#so i felt like using more extreme and striking colors fit them better

[mortysmith]

i mainly got good at colors because of rick and morty hashtag skull emoji

[writing-in-april]

Manicured

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Spencer finally lets Reader do his nails.

A/N: Another short cute fic here for my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! I wanted to make it short but sweet- it’s based on this request (this is not my first fic with Spencer with painted nails- check out on my MGG masterlist Painted Nails if you are over 18) Side note someone recently stole my work- please do not upload anything of mine to another site without my permission. Feel free to leave an ask in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Nothing 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.2k

It wasn’t often that Spencer and I had a day to ourselves, even an hour sometimes felt like a rare occurrence. Today, there was no case, no bad guys to be chasing, and there was even no paperwork to be completed. You were sat on the bed peacefully with Spencer, not daring to point that out out loud as it would obviously jinx it.

“Can I paint your nails?” You absentmindedly asked while fiddling with Spencer’s fingers in your grasp. You didn’t expect a response right away, or any at all as you had been asking to paint his nails for a while. Everytime he always said no, maybe later. So, you kept asking until he said yes.

Today seemed like a random day for him to finally agree, but Spencer tended to get you by surprise often. You almost bolted up in surprise when he simply replied, “Yes.”

Now you were sitting across from him, his hand in yours and a towel placed underneath to collect any spills. Eagerly you started immediately, already having the perfect design in mind for him. Using the brush to swipe over his nails, you then coated his nail in purple colored polish. It was his first experience having polish on his fingers.

Naturally he was intrigued staring down at you intently with his tongue slightly peeking out from his lips, like he was putting all his effort into analyzing exactly what you were doing. Just as you finished that finger he said, “This is so fascinating, you have such control over the brush.”

That had made you burst out into a fit of giggles, his tone making manicuring nails sound like the most serious thing in the world. “Practice makes perfect.” Was all you could manage to say as you tried to hold back your laughs and continue your job.

Eventually you finished his first hand, it already looked like a masterpiece to you, accentuating Spencer’s features in a striking way. He of course continued to stare down at them like he was trying to somehow see each molecule of the polish and understand how it dried on the nail so perfectly.

“I don’t think you’ll figure out all there is to know about nail polish yet by staring at it.” You said as you moved to his thumb on his left hand while he looked at his finished right.

“No, I’ll need to read some books for that.” He replied while his focus was still completely on the nails that were covered in shiny lacquer. Until he then looked up to ask you with eager eyes, “Do you have any books on it?”

“No, I don’t Spencer- I’m not a nail tech.” You laughed out once again, but found it very endearing that he thought you might have some.

“We’ll have to go to the library for that then.” Some people would say the internet would be the best bet to learn about this, Spencer always learned best by books however, and despised all technology for the most part. You then finished up with the design on his pointer finger, immediately going to the next to repeat the design on a new nail.

It was a call, of course from Spencer’s work phone, suddenly interrupted your progress on his nails. You hoped it wasn’t another case you’d both get whisked away on. He picked up the phone with his right hand, which was already completed, but still drying. Carefully with extreme precision, he answered the call and brought it up to his ear, making sure he didn’t smudge any of your hard work.

“Hello- this is Dr. Spencer Reid.” His voice had switched into his purely professional mode, while you continued to add the finishing touches to the matching design. You did make an effort to speed up the process in case he had to up and leave, though you did wish you could’ve taken your time like with his opposite hand.

“Hey- kid check who’s calling before you answer. It’s me, we have a case.” You could faintly hear Morgan’s voice come through the phone and you had to fight a groan when you heard the end of his sentence. Seems like you both were already jinxed.

“Y-yeah, ok Morgan we’ll be there in about 20.” He was now squinting down at his watch, hunched over you almost hitting your head in the process while you tried to finish up the last nail.

As soon as he hung up you were just about finished with the last little bit of your design that was a range of Spencer’s favorite color purple with some dashes of black and grey. It would certainly match most of his work clothes he normally wore, you hoped he’d keep the polish on.

“Done!” You shouted triumphantly at the last swipe of clear polish, sealing in your art. When he peered down at the finished hand curiously another pang of worry that he’d want to immediately wipe it off shot through you. “Are you- going to keep it on for work?”

He looked at you incredulously, and then completely squashed your worries with his sweet words, “Of course I’ll wear it to work, it’s perfect and- you did this for me.”

—

“Reid- what is on your nails?” Morgan clocked them as soon as Spencer entered the bullpen with you. He had walked in with pride, not necessarily flaunting them, but certainly not hiding them. And, when Morgan pointed them out he jutted out his fingers in pride, showing off the pretty polish that had by now dried. Though it had been a challenge for him to get all his clothes on, he didn’t end up getting them smudged thanks to you.

“It’s nail polish? Have you never seen it before Morgan?” Spencer quipped at him which seemed to have taken Morgan by surprise as his eyebrows raised up high.

Any answer Morgan could give to him was swallowed up by the giddy voice of none other than Penelope Garcia, “Oh. My. Gosh. Spencer got his nails painted!”

“Y-yes I did!” He withered a bit under the attention as he was not used to it. He bounced back quickly when he realized she wasn’t going to make fun of him.

“Where did you get them done they’re amazing?” Penelope was now holding up Spencer’s hand, and the congregation grew as more members of the team arrived to get a look at his nails. Little did everyone know who was the real artist that did them, and Spencer was happy to correct her with the real answer.

“Actually, Y/N did them.” Penelope almost immediately shifted her focus back on you bombarding you with questions on your technique. Spencer happily played a hand model, which you swore could be a career for him in an alternate universe, while you explained everything to the people around you. It was mainly Penelope who was interested, but Emily and JJ really seemed to like your color choice for Spencer saying it was ‘his color’. Even Morgan peered over inquisitively a few times, mainly when your voice jumped higher because of excitement.

“What are you all doing?”

“Looking at Spencer’s nails, Sir. Y/N did them!”

“Are you sure that’s a very professional look, Spencer?” Hitch’s hard face was difficult to read as always, you couldn’t tell if he was about to demand he take it off right away or not. He hadn’t seemed to mind when you came in with nail art on, or Penelope, you hoped this would be no different. When his lips that were almost always pressed into a thin line turned upwards you were taken aback, and even more so at what he said next, “Looks good- you’re really getting better at your manicuring skills.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

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[senadimell]

The Mysterious Benedict Society as an adaption

So far, The Mysterious Benedict Society adaption feels very faithful to the books. There are definitely changes (Constance, for instance, has been aged up, and likely has a different background. This is understandable. It would be nigh impossible to portray her as she is in the books in live action format--for example, none of the kids in the book suspect she’s a toddler, let alone two years old). However, most changes have all felt reasonable and add to plot and pacing.

I especially enjoy the additions: showing the adult side of the team, for example, or Ms. Perumal’s growing concern about Reynie’s whereabouts, or the girls’ nighttime conversations. Some changes are more extreme. The Mr. Curtain of the books is clearly a villain. He’s condescending and rude, and the only people who like him are bullies. Mr. Curtain of the show is much smoother. It’s easy to see how he’s managed to influence people. Similarly, the L.I.V.E. curriculum is much less obnoxious in the show (not just memorizing nonsense by rote), and as a result, the school’s students seem less stupid and cruel. You can see why they enjoy attendance.

I’m particularly pleased that Number Two’s weirdness has been amplified. Mr. Benedict’s found family is delightfully strange, and I love watching their unusual rhythms. It will be easy to believe when (or if) it’s revealed that the women have been legally adopted into Mr. Benedict’s family.

Similarly, I love how they intensified the quirky feel of the setting and characters. Of course Number Two built a house in the woods in a day because she has a woodworking hobby. Of course there’s secret tunnels and drawers and compartments in Mr. Benedict’s house. Of course Milligan’s disguises and mannerisms are wackily memorable instead of just matter-of-fact. The books themselves have a stylized feel at times (they kind of remind me of Lemony Snickett’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, though with none of the grimness).

I love the overall aesthetic. When I first read the books, they didn’t strike me as being set in the past, but the vaguely vintage feeling works excellently. (I was also a fully grown adult before I realized that the Incredibles wasn’t set in the present, so...) The color schemes, costumes, and sets have distinctive feelings and coordinate well. The effect is stylized rather than naturalistic, which is appropriate and amplifies the tone of the scenes. The bright colors and rough textures of the wooded hideout and its inhabitants’ costumes contrast nicely with the clean lines of tL.I.V.E.’s vintage-pastel interior and sleek exterior.

I also enjoyed the way they did Kate’s flashback as rough home footage. Similarly, I enjoyed the way they showed four kids solving problems on the same screen, how they illustrated Reynie’s thought process with overlaid sketches of the problems, and the way words show up on the screen during the tests for emphasis. The combination of animations, showing multiple things at once, and creative angles for emphasis did a great job conveying the feeling of the tests. (Unfortunately, I lack the vocabulary to describe the techniques they used here).

There’s two things I didn’t enjoy. The first was killing Sticky’s parents to make him an orphan. It mattered in the books that he felt rejected by his own parents. Making it his aunt and uncle who (seemingly) care more about money and fame than the child they’re raising feels a little too much like the wicked stepmother trope. I don’t know why the showmakers decided that Of Course They’re All Orphans, because while most of the book characters are orphans, Sticky isn’t, which serves to show that you can feel rejected and hurt by your parents even when you’ve got an ordinary, non-abusive nuclear family. It’s about feeling isolated, whether or not you’re technically alone.

Secondly, all the wheelchairs have been removed from the adaption. I’m not sure why this was done. Sticky’s mother has bad arthritis and requires a wheelchair. In the books, this was done without fanfare; it was as normal as anything else to oil Ms. Washington’s wheelchair in damp weather, or load and unload it from cars in later books. She was more of a background character, so it didn’t affect the plot, but the casual background representation was a welcome contrast to many books that assume being disabled is strange and uncommon, and that disabilities only exist when they’re plot-significant. The aunt who replaced Ms. Washington used no mobility aids, which disappoints me, especially as the woman she replaces in the books is ultimately shown to be a flawed but loving parent who’s dedicated to making up for her mistakes.

The other person missing their wheelchair is Mr. Curtain, the villain. I’m also not sure why this was removed? It could be to avoid the Evil Disabled Villain trope, but in the book, I didn’t feel like his disabilities were treated as a moral flaw or an excuse for his villainy. He shares his narcolepsy with the unquestionably benevolent Mr. Benedict, so it didn’t feel like his condition was used to vilify him.

He and Mr. Benedict act cope with their condition differently: Mr. Benedict relies on trusted family members for support and chooses to sit on the floor and avoid positioning himself in tall places from which he could fall, whereas Mr. Curtain disguises his narcolepsy by wearing mirrored glasses and using a wheelchair that secures an upright posture, so that no one knows when he has an episode. He does use his wheelchair aggressively, banging through doors and zooming around and forcing people to jog and keep up, but it felt like his use of mobility aids grew naturally from his character.

The books also include a scene where he shocks the children by leaving his wheelchair to chase them. They assumed that using a wheelchair=completely unable to walk, a common view in US society. Importantly, I didn’t feel like the scene was framed as particularly deceptive, like he was lying to them by using a wheelchair when he could walk. Rather, it fit into a pattern of Mr. Curtain managing assumptions and expectations: he doesn’t want people to take advantage of his weaknesses, yet wants to hold a few cards close to his chest. He doesn’t have to lie to people, just let them see and hear and assume what they will.

I don’t use a wheelchair or have narcolepsy, so I’m not in a position to say whether or not the books have good representation. Maybe the fact that Mr. Curtain is evil, and also zooms around and bangs through doors, is uncomfortable. Maybe the fact that his nefarious devices are wheelchair-accessible and in fact designed around his chair sends the wrong message. Maybe using mobility aids to conceal a disability sends a bad message, or maybe it would be better if the good guy was the one to use a wheelchair to cope with his disability. I don’t know. I do know that Mr. Benedict’s condition is played for laughs in both the book and show, and that might be uncomfortable. I do think it’s worth noting that Mr. Benedict’s narcolepsy is seen less and less as funny as the books go on, and grows to be seen as an endearing quality that emphasizes how much he loves people, since his attacks usually underscore with strong emotions and convey worry for his loved ones or joy at their company.

My own sense is that both approaches to narcolepsy make sense, and neither is shown to be inherently faulty. Rather, it’s Mr. Curtain’s character that’s to blame for his villainy--his arrogance, condescension, and mistrust. Both characters feel well-developed and consistent, and their disability is only one part of them. Their disability is colorful, but it’s colorful in the same way as the main characters (Sticky’s anxiety and memory, Kate’s gusto, eye for measurement, and bucket, Constance’s precociousness, etc).

As for why Mr. Curtain’s wheelchair was cut, I’m not sure. Maybe the show writers just didn’t want to deal with the ramifications of depicting a villain in a wheelchair, and decided to cut it altogether (a lazy reason, I think). Alternatively, it seems like they’re depicting narcolepsy without cataplexy, eliminating the need for a wheelchair (a better reason).

On the other hand, Mr. Curtain’s attitude and mannerisms bear the least resemblance to his book counterpart of all the show’s characters. They’re incorporating some backstory from the other books to build a secondary plotline, and I’m not sure how it’s going to play out. From what we’ve seen of him so far, S. Q. Pedalian is also drastically different (shy, cloistered, and openly acknowledged as Mr. Curtain’s son, instead of the gregarious, bumbling, misfit Executive of the books). The TV dynamic between him and Mr. Curtain is largely unrevealed as of yet. Since these changes constitute departures from the book, I’m not sure how the future story’s going to play out around them, and what that reveals about why the wheelchair was cut when it was so characteristic of Mr. Curtain’s mannerisms while other things (like Mr. Benedict’s use of plaid) were included.

Still, it does disappoint me that two wheelchairs were erased, and no one in the show uses one, not even background students. 

Overall, though, apart from the orphan and wheelchair situation, I’m very pleased with this adaption and think that the pacing works wonderfully. It’s a near-ideal format for a video adaption (I think animation would be best, but this is a close second).

[lem-cup-rev]

Going Under (2020)

⭐️⭐️⭐️

God damn the gamefeel and difficulty were terrible! I loved everything else.

And of course, when I say that, I only mean my subjective experience, because clearly the devs must have been able to play through and enjoy their own creation and others will too.

It’s a top-down action game in enclosed spaces with goofy, bouncy 3D graphics, and for me it achieved a nightmarish level of stiff, mushy, confusing clunkiness. I could definitely have fun and enjoy the madcap chases and satisfying weapons when it was easy, but at a certain difficulty I felt like I hit an absolute ceiling where I had no real control and no way to do better whatsoever. Wanting to see the rest of the game, I juiced the accessibility options up to max and shoved my way through, but even that didn’t make the final final final boss fight easy, so I gave up.

I also would have LOVED if the gameplay actually focused on scrambling around the office throwing any and all of the fully interactable objects at your enemies, but this is made entirely useless compared to the stronger weapons provided.

The gameplay problems had to work hard to overcome my affection for the aesthetic, humor, story, characters, themes, and cute gameplay ideas.

It’s an extremely charming, quirky, acidic, cartoonish modern-fantasy parody of startup culture, and I was so into it even without any connection to the subject. The entire game is portrayed in a version of the “corporate art style”, the mild, pleasant, stiff and noodly colorful figures that populate advertising material and web services. All of the gameplay mechanics are ciphered through corporatespeak – power-ups are skills on your resume, doing quests for characters is gaining mentorship, your score for a dungeon run is a performance review.

The game’s structure and narrative cuts deep and lampoons the over-intimate small team corporate nightmare world in extremely clever and cohesive ways. The dungeons you fight through – they’re previous failed startups that yours is literally built on top of, their workers cursed to become monsters in endless shitty jobs! And there are so many more layers from there. After what I fully believed was the final boss fight, a second half of the game opened up revealing not only the hard modes of the dungeons, but an exquisitely weird thematic change undergone by every single character.

The characters have really distinct, striking designs and distinct, funny personalities, each representing a different facet of the startup ecosystem, and all of them are a joy to talk to every time you get the chance. I especially like the two women, a stocky pessimistic programmer and a pretty people-pleasing marketer who are initially at each other’s throats.

Every little element is laden with weird, ghoulish, creative humor, from the gig worker goblins crashing rideshare cars around the levels to the amazon drones delivering purchased items in ‘2-5 business encounters’ to the cans of your own soda product in bizarre flavors used as explosive area weapons, etc etc etc. There are so many over-the-top gameplay ideas meant to add irreverent, thrilling chaos to the adventure.

Honestly, probably the majority of the fun I had was from exploring all the creative, funny stuff they fit in every aspect of the experience, more than from the gameplay itself. It sucked so hard to end up wanting to quit playing this game because it wasn't fun! Se la vie.

[mistaeq]

Saturday, 26th December

Romeo!Don Giovanna x Juliet!Reader: The Masque

TW // mafia is mentioned, please don't take it lightly. Mista x Trish is implied, but I've aged her up.

Today I offer you this, which I'm proud of, and it doesn't happen often. So I hope you all enjoy this.

A darker point of view on Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Naples, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their ancient strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

Is now the two hours' traffic of my fic;

The which if you with patient eyes attend,

What here shall miss, my toil shall strive to mend.

"I will be honest to thee, if thou do not mind me saying so, Don Giovanna. But I am still struggling to understand why thou wanted to show up to the event." the golden haired signore slightly chuckled, after his councilor's words, who was now helping him with fixing the bow which perfectly fit his elegant braid. He never gave up on styling his hair the same way, and now that he was showing up to an event out of pure spite, he was not going to change that.

"It is not that I wanted it, my dear Guido." the Don said, fixing his cream colored jacket's sleeves, an amused grin animating his relaxed features. "They don't expect me to show up at all, all they did was inviting me, thinking I would have chosen to not to go. And make fun of thy lord's attitude. It would be rude of mine, to not to let them know how good I am doing, despite their several attempts to push me down."

"Indeed, signore. Thy reasonment sounds just right." the young councilor Guido Mista agreed with the Don, crouching to give a better look at the lord's image in the mirror and nodding in satisfaction when he made sure the bow was symmetrical as he wanted. "In addition to this, I am pleased to inform thee about my choice of asking Lord Diavolo's daughter's hand in marriage, as soon as she will turn eighteen. Lady Trish." Giorno's grin, if possibly, widened. His councilor marrying his worst enemy's daughter? Sounded just perfect, since she was gonna move in their mansion. By her own choice. She hated her father, and had agreed to the marriage. Great to hear.

"Thou spoke music to my ears, Guido. And I thank thee for thou fixed my bow properly." the golden haired Don stood up, and started walking towards the door, eyeing at his councilor's outfit. "Get ready, we are going." Believe me, he was about to touch the door handle, when a rough voice, who always allowed itself to speak too much, interrupted his actions.

"What about thy heart, signore? No love story nor marriage for thee?" The gunslinger dared to say, perfectly knowing his Don thought he had to keep on being focused on his own affairs, rather than have love related ones. He just liked to drop the question every now and then, but started being genuinely worried. Guido know how romantic Don Giovanna could get, and the thought of him getting old without getting married, weirded him out. At first, he used to think Giorno needed time to get used to his role as a boss in the neapolitan mafia - the biggest reason of his strife against Diavolo -, but now, years had passed, and it was getting worse.

"Tender is the way love might make this man change. Thy lord is not ready to face such a thing. Unless it is really worth a try." Don Giovanna's hand lingered around the doorknob, caressing it in an attempt to examinate a thin layer of dust. "Do me the favor to tell Ghirga that cleaning up every little thing, even the most insignificant one, is definitely not optional." the blonde said, finally tightening his grip on the door handle and exiting the room. Left in the whistling silence of the place, the councilor proceeded to get ready for the event himself. He knew his signore didn't like to make someone wait.

As soon as he came in the hall, everyone turned around him and his councilor, Guido Mista, who soon blended into the crowd, for his betrothed Trish Una gripped on his arm and pulled him somewhere else. "Bothering thy councilor is not my intention, Don Giovanna. I am asking for thy permission, to take him for a while." What else could the blonde man even answer, if not agreeing with it happening. Without any doubt, he was left alone so fast, he had now nobody to cover him, as his golden hair didn't blend at all into the crowd.

A pleasant smell of cooked food and wooden furniture penetrated the Don's nose, as he gripped a glass of wine from the servant who was walking around with a tray holding some. The man shook the crystal glass a little, before he smelled the alcoholic liquid, and took a sip from it. Then, he quietly snorted. "And this would be wine. I consider myself lucky, being these people's foe. This truly doth be terrible."

Giorno mentally commented almost everything in the hall, judging the furniture... "Outdated.", the people... "Seeing them stare at me pleases me. If they are willing to criticize my appearance and attitude, I will be even more pleased.", and the service as well. "These servants are just what Lord Diavolo likes. Being so useless, it pains me." he took the last sip from his crystal glass of wine. "Let me see how much will it take for some servant to notice."

No wonder, the signore was really full of himself, and he was right, for all the people's voices murmuring when he passed by, were coming from pure envy. Diavolo staring at him, from the top of a huge flight of stairs. Don Giovanna had not noticed him, for he didn't consider necessary the action of looking above his own head. Giorno knew he was the one to be already at the top. If so, it were others who had too look up to him. He had learnt he had to stand up to ferocious beasts too, and he managed, in his life, to dominate the worst out of all the beasts. Humanity.

Plus, he was extremely focused on what was happening in front of himself, for he could see, in the middle of the hall, several couples dancing. No need to specify, that was the place where Lady Trish had brought the councilor Mista. Don Giovanna couldn't help but slightly smirk. That man had always been so loyal to him, and he was genuinely proud of him for he had found a wife and helped his affairs at the same time. He watched at the curly, dark haired councilor moving his betrother around with grace, until they accidentally bumped into another couple who was dancing beside them. The Don was now elegantly chuckling, he was amused, he was...

...Love-struck. The couple who Mista and Una had bumped into, consisted in a young lord and a beautiful creature who probably came from heavens above. The angel apologized to the pink haired Lady with a laughter, and bowed to Guido in apology. The angel... were you. Diavolo's niece/nephew had made the impenetrable heart of Don Giovanna fall in love. Could he talk about love? He wanted to. All in a matter of two seconds, the golden haired man imagined you dressed up for a luxurious wedding. What he did not know, was that there would have also been Diavolo in the crowd, watching his archenemy marry you. He had no idea you were related to him. As the same servant he had taken a glass from before passed by, Giorno gripped her arm, and pulled her closer.

"What angel is that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?" he frantically asked, his tone was serious and imposing, as if he was ready to squeeze the information out of the poor servant. But she knew nothing about you, it was not like she was a family servant. She was just there to serve for the event. "I know not, sir", the poor waitress said, holding the tray on her chest and trying to go back into the kitchen. "I apologize. Uh. More wine?" The girl also asked, as Don Giovanna remembered he had ran out of wine. But he shook his head and left the empty glass in the servant's hand, moving towards you to have a better look, not noticing he was right under the flight of stairs where Diavolo and a follower of his were standing. Then, he started to talk to himself, contemplating you.

"O, they doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems they hangs upon the cheek of night." he moved his hands together, in a similar motion as one of a prayer. "Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear. Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder angel o'er their fellows shows." Don Giovanna's fingers intertwined with each other as he spoke. "The measure done, I'll watch their place of stand, and, touching theirs, make blessed my rude hand." with his intense gaze, Giorno's left hand moved to slide on the side of his body, as the right hand touched his chest. "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

He made the mistake to melt right under the sight of Diavolo, who smirked in seeing him so vulnerable for such a thing. Nobody was there to tell him that falling in love with you would have been his end. The pink haired lord was not irritated, for even if Giorno had tried to humiliate him, the golden haired boss was humiliating himself now, over a fleeting love. The man on the stairs wouldn't even have needed to do anything. Not that he wanted it in the first place. He would have behaved, to show his superiority off.

But Diavolo's loyal servant, lord Cioccolata, had other ideas. "This, by his voice, should be Giovanna. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave come hither, cover'd with an antic face, to fleer and scorn at our solemnity?" the green haired man bent over the banister to take a better look to the supercilious Giorno, who, again, had no clue of what was right above him. "Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, to strike him dead, I hold it not a sin." Cioccolata murmured, but felt his arm get gripped from his boss.

"Why, how now, kinsman. Wherefore storm you so?" the servant's jaw dropped.

"Signore, this is literally Don Giovanna, our foe, a villain that is hither come in spite, to scorn at our solemnity this night." as the same servant who Giorno had talked to approached Diavolo and offered him a glass of wine, the pink haired boss smelled it and took a little sip from it. Then, grinned. He was not in the mood for violence. For now. So he had to keep Cioccolata back from every kind of bad decision. It wasn't easy, to keep such a man from murder. Out of pure honesty.

"Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, Cioccolata. He bears him like a portly gentleman, and, to say truth, Naples brags of him to be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth." Diavolo explained. It would not have been good if something happened to that man in his mansion. He was part of Naples' pride. "I would not for the wealth of all the town, here in my house do him disparagement: therefore be patient, take no note of him. It is my will, the which if thou respect, show a fair presence and put off these frowns, and ill-beseeming semblance for a feast." was he asking his most violent servant to have... patience over his archenemy? Yes, he was, and Cioccolata was speechless.

"It fits, when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him." the angered man replied, trying once again to get his signore to reasonate and realize they could get rid of him so easily if they wished so. The councilor Mista was even too distracted by Diavolo's daughter to keep an eye on his boss. It could have been so simple, for Cioccolata, to...

"Am I the master here, or you? You'll not endure him? God shall mend my soul! You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! You'll be the man!" the pink haired man slightly raised his voice - not enough for Giorno to hear - and made himself clear, so that if the green haired made any possible mess during his feast, he would have had to take his own responsibility.

"I will withdraw, then." the servant gave up on his ideas, but rudely. His one almost felt like a poisonous gaze. "But this intrusion shall now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall." he said, indirectly threatening an oblivious Giorno. Talking about him, during their conversation between the two men on the stairs, he turned unnoticed until Cioccolata left. When Diavolo looked down on him again, the golden haired boss was now in the middle of a crowded mess of people who was dancing, people who was eating and conversing. He was with you. Finally.

Giorno Giovanna approached you in a way you couldn't help but notice. He looked like the sun, a golden being, it caught your heart as well. Neverending seconds of staring at each other followed, until... "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this." he gently took your hand in his. It felt warm. "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." as the man said so, he leaned in to leave a soft kiss on the back of your hand. His sweet scent overwhelming you as he moved. How gentle.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this." you withdrew your hand and slightly chuckled, reassuring him it was fine. Someway, the two of you found yourself moving away from the crowd. In a more intimate spot. Diavolo couldn't even find you. "For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch..." your sweet voice was soothing the man more than you would realize. "...and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Giorno bit his lip in anticipation, and gently exhaled. "Have not saints lips... and holy palmers too?" he asked, leaning down right towards your soft mouth, before you moved aside and, chuckling like an angel playing in a field, avoided the gentleman's kiss, jokingly scolding his mind with a mischievous smile.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." You provoked him. Where had Giorno Giovanna's temperance gone? He had swore to his councilor, just before leaving his house, that he wouldn't have let love blind his senses. And there he was. Plus, you did not know each other. You did not know who you were. You did not know you should have not been there together. Due to this, he gladly accepted your game, and chuckled back. God, he was so ethereal and he did not even realize it.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do." he begged, looking almost afraid of touching you, or your waist, or your own hand. How can someone fall so deep in love after having just met someone? Does love at first sight even exist? "They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." Don Giovanna's tone sounded impatient.

But you had accepted to play his game, and now you would have played it until the very end. You smirked, staring at the blonde man's trembling lips. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." you said, implying the fact that you wouldn't have made the first step. It made sense, though. It was him, who had compared you to a saint first. Little did you know, you were playing with fire, for that man you felt love at first sight for, was your uncle's archenemy.

Giorno grinned, and hid you more against the wall, as your hands automatically wrapped around his figure. Though you didn't move in for a kiss. Until... "Then move not... while my prayer's effect I take.", said the man, grazing with his lips against yours, and finally pressing. You felt all your senses relieve and relax, as your hands grasped on the fabric of the Don's jacket. You didn't like your uncle's crimes. You wouldn't have liked Giorno's ones too. But you had no clue. And he had no clue you were Diavolo's niece/nephew. And you were in love.

His sugary sweet lips clicked against yours a last, neverending time, when he pulled back and thought staring right in your eyes was a good idea. "Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged." Don Giovanna whispered, breathing hard against your giggling mouth. He hadn't stopped playing, you noticed with a pleasant feeling.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took...?" you slyly asked him, clearly wanting the kiss to continue, clearly wanting more, having no idea of how wrong it was. Having no idea of how dangerous is was. Though his eyes widened, and got even closer, so close to giving you what you wanted for the second time. You felt yourself growing so enamored.

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!" he paused for a second, before he bit his own lower lip. "Give me my sin again." Giorno whispered, grabbing your waist with his hand and kissing you, almost desperately, but romantically, against the wall. He had been so focused on anything else, that he had forgotten the true flavor of love, and living it all again after he had swore he wouldn't have done it, was way too intense. Way too beautiful. Better than the art he'd been collecting the latest years.

When he pulled back, you instictively smiled and raised an eyebrow, silently chuckling a little. "You kiss by the book..." you told him, caressing his neck gently and carefully. If it were for him and you, that beautiful moment could go on for hours, days, even an eternity. But beautiful things never last. The two of you almost had a heart attack, when the arm of a blonde, long haired man grabbed your right wrist, ripping your dream in half.

"Madam/sir, your uncle craves a word with you." he almost managed to get you away from Giorno, when the Don grabbed your left wrist, and pulled you towards him, not letting the man, Tiziano to be precise, bring you away.

"What's their uncle?"

At that question, the almond eyed man smirked, as if he was ready to drop a heavy bomb on the snooty Don. "Marry, bachelor, their uncle is the lord of the house, and a good man, wise and virtuous. I nursed his niece/nephew, that you talk'd withal." as if Tiziano had read into Don Giovanna's mind, he added something else, just for the sake of making it even heavier. "I tell you, he that can lay hold of them, shall have the chinks."

Then the blonde haired Don followed the two of you around the hall, until he saw you get pulled upstairs by Tiziano, and connected his brains to what he saw. Diavolo, waiting for you upstairs, and Tiziano holding your arm so that you wouldn't have been able to run away. Four painful words formed on Giorno's whispering lips. "Are they an enemy...?" he asked to himself, looking at you up there, until Trish didn't appear as well behind you.

Trish wasn't happy to be there, she loved Guido Mista, but apparently Diavolo had called all his family back. And your presence there, only confirmed his fear. You were about to step back towards him and say something, but Tiziano caught your shoulder just in time, and pulled you close enough to whisper you the words you would have never wanted to hear. "His name is Giorno." he added more details. "Giorno Giovanna. The only appearance you should match to your great enemy."

You stood there. Empty. You and your forbidden lover had understood what was going on. And both your hearts clenched. And both your hearts suffered. How could love be so beautiful yet so evil, to make a man live and die on the same evening. How...

We all know how this story ends, we know about the pain, we know about the sorrow. But what if this time it made sense. One of the lovers is dirty with criminal blood, running through his veins, and you accept him, in the good and in the bad. Is this right...?

Or is death the punishment, for the sin that in reality your lips hadn't purged at all?

[makecableboyfriendoffical]

Blame it on the alcohol ( working title)

Beom-Pal really hated his life sometimes. Maybe hate is too strong of a word, but that’s how he felt tonight. He had a rough day at work (more like month) thinking his luck had changed when his cousin Cho Beom-il actually agreed to go out with him. Beom-pal should have known that it was too easy. They were only two drinks in and his cousin bailed on him because his fuck buddy called. So of course, when this particular fuck buddy called Beom-il drops everything (including to his knees Beom-pal thinks bitterly of his cousin).

  Now here he is alone drinking by himself looking extremely pathetic even for him. Well, if Beom-pal was going to drink by himself, he might as well drink at home. Just as he was about to signal the bartender that he wanted to pay his tab, feeling a hand on his shoulder. “Can I buy you a drink?” a voice asked.  Beom-pal turned around very quickly because he never got ask to be bought a drink. He tried to be the pursuer but gave up after being shot down one too many times. To his surprise it was Min Chi Rook, Lee Chang’s second-best friend (Seo-bi held first no questions asked).  Min Chi-Rok and Lee Chang were usually joined at the hip when out on the town.

  “Hello Min Chi Rok. What a surprise to see you. I can’t believe that you are here alone.” Beom-pal commented.

  Min Chi-Rok laughed and shook his head answers “I was supposed to meet Lee Chang but something happened so he owes me a raincheck.” Beom-pal just nods he as three guesses on what came up for him to bail on his friend.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Can I buy you a round of drinks?” Min Chi-Rok asks again

  “Sure, why the hell not. I’ve got nothing to lose. Beom-pal answers. He signals the bartender Two more of these and put it on his tab.” Pointing to Min Chi-Rok. The bartender just nods and gets to work on the drinks.

  “Why do I feel like it’s going to be some bougie drink?” Min Chi- Rok says as he takes stool next Beom-pal.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Beom-pal ask knowing full well what he means.             

  “Somehow no one in your family strikes me as just a beer crowd.” Min Chi-Rok remarks

Beom-pal is about to make a witty comeback when the bartender comes back with two drinks. Min Chi-Rok at this point as raised one eyebrow because the drinks are a slight rose color with very pink sugar encrusting the rim.

“What? Who says one cannot enjoy the finer things in life.” Beom-pal says as he grabs a glass putting it to his lips.

  “What exactly is this finer thing anyway?” Min Chi-Rok ask as he picks up the other glass to inspect, now he can see raspberries floating.

  “This my dear friend is a raspberry royale.” Beom-pal says as if that explains everything.

“Again, what is this?” Min Chi-Rok repeated

  “This is champagne, raspberry liquor with of course fresh raspberry. Topped off with sanding sugar to finish the effect.” Beom-pal answered. Taking sip at his drink. Poor Min Chi-Rok was still eyeing the drink suspiciously.

“After this round, I’m going to show my drink of choice.” Min Chi-Rok said Beom-pal just nodded in agreement. They were only going to have maybe two drinks and be on their merry way.  

    Beom-pal is leading a very buzzed Min Chi-Rok to his apartment a few hours later. As he fumbles with his keys to open door, wonders how they got here. Well after having the “bougie” drink, Min Chi-Rok order some foreign beer he’s never heard of. Beom-pal can’t be outdone so he orders them lemon drop martini. Then Min Chi-Rok orders them two rounds of whiskey. Here is where things start to get a bit fuzzy around the edges. Downing the shots like a pro, he states that Min Chi-Rok cheated by ordering two rounds at the same time. Min Chi-Rok argues that two shots are about the equivalent of one drink, Beom-pal tries to argue why he disagrees with this. They must have been getting loud because the bartender announces that he’s cutting them off and offer to call them a riding service.

    Beom-pal scoffs at this and pulls out his phone to start dialing his car service. Well technically it’s Lee Chang, who is always saying the Beom-pal should use it more often. they spill into the SUV that was called. Min Chi-Rok said he wasn’t done drinking when the drive asks where they were going. Seeing that it’s almost 2am and for some reason he doesn’t want to share Min Chi-Rok with anyone else tonight. So, he gives the driver the address to his apartment and tells Min Chi-Rok that he has scotch that he has to try.

  Once in the apartment Beom-pal directs Min Chi-Rok to the couch in his while he pours the scotch. He drops a single cube of ice into their glasses and walk towards the couch. Min Chi-Rok grabs the glass and immediately starts to sip. Beom-pal thinks he hears a comment about of course the scotch is also sweet.  The place is too quiet and Beom-Pal reaches forward and starts fishing around in the basket that’s on the table. After about the third remote, he pulls out the one he wanted. Pretty soon there is poppy club music filling the room. He can see Min Chi Rok eyebrows slightly raise up. Beom-Pal doesn’t care, its his place and he can put on any music he damn well pleases. Beom-Pal sips his drink and slowly swings his shoulders to the rhythm, awaiting the snide remark from Min Chi Rok.

  “Well, I never thought I would spend my evening with a scotch and club music.” Min Chi Rok says as he sips his drink.

  “You got a problem with it?” Beom-Pal ask maybe sounding a bit defense. He knows he doesn’t fit into anyone mold of what a Cho is supposed to be.

  Min Chi Rok actually smiles at him before answering “Not one bit. It’s nice to see the many layers of Cho Beom-Pal. I feel like the only one is see work version.”

  “Well, you’ve never really interacted with besides work. Min Chi Rok opens his mouth to respond but Beom-Pal cuts him off coming to hang out with Lee Chang while we are working does not count. The rest of you may be able to play but I’m not.”

  “Your right. I’m sorry. I think what I know about you is from Lee Chang and your cousins. And that is not a full picture.” Min Chi Rok responded.

  Beom-Pal snorted “Well for one you can only believe like every other word from my cousins. And fairly certain Lee Chang thinks at any moment I’m going to stab him in the back.”

  “Don’t take that too personally. Lee Chang’s father instilled that he has to be paranoid about everyone.” Min Chi Rok tried to reassure him.

  “So, what does the great Min Chi Rok do beside burning corporate business to the ground?” Beom-Pal ask. Though he knows the answers because he’s in control of his boss schedule.  He asks because he doubts that Min Chi Rok remembers.  The man in front of raises his eyebrows and takes another sip before answering.

  “Well, I know you know this but I’ll play. You know about the basketball and baseball league. But after that archery we did a couple weeks ago, I picked that up again.”

  “Jealous that Yeong-shin was better?” Beom-Pal asks. He does not want to be caught in that weird triangle. Whenever his boss gets his head out his ass and admits he’s got the hots for his head hunter.

  “Contrary to what everyone thinks me and Lee Chang haven’t slept with each other in like 3 years.” Min Chi Rok tried to defend himself.  Beom-Pal snorted at that, they flirted way too much for it to be that long.

  “Fine don’t believe me. So, tell what does Cho Beom-Pal do when he’s not preventing the whole world from falling apart.” Min Chi Rok ask.

( Scenario 1)

“ Well most days I don’t have any time but when I can get the time I play pickle ball.” Beom-pal answers

  Min Chi Rok starts to laugh  “ You mean you play that old man game?”          

  “ It’s not any old man game. You have to be in good shape to play.” Beom-Pal tried not to whine. This only made Min Chi Rok laugh harder, once he settled a bit the other man said “ Oh I’m sure it keeps you in perfectly good shape.”

  “ It does!! Beom—Pal raised his voice If it didn’t would I feel like this? Beom-Pal reached forward grabbing Min Chi Rok by the wrists placing his hands right on Beom-Pal’s pecs.  Does this feel like someone who doesn’t get a full work out Beom-Pal asked. Min Chi Rok looked at with wide eyes looking a bit shocked. Beom-Pal looked down and could feel the blood rushing to his face. This was a bit forward and intimate then they actually were. Before Beom-Pal could say he was sorry and removed Min Chi Rok’s hands from his chest, he felt a firm but gentle squeeze on the forementioned pecs. A low hmm came from Min Chi Rok lips.

  “ Not bad from just pickle ball. Is there any other parts that benefit from the sport?” Min Chi Rok says with a what Beom-Pal called a naughty glint in his eyes.

  Scenario 2

  “ Most days I’m too damn tired to go out and do anything. But I do turn my stero on and just dance.” Beom-Pal answered.

  “ Ah I heard from Beom-il that you got two left feet.” Min Chi Rok remarked.

  “ What did I tell you about listening to my cousins? I dance perfectly well thank you.” Beom-Pal answered back.

  “ I’d rather believe you cousin in this I think.” Min Chi Rok responded

  Beom-Pal huffed and slammed his glass onto the table, grabbing the remote he programed one his favorite songs. As the bass start to fill the room he grabs Min Chi Rok by the forearm pulling him up from the couch. Beom-Pal starts swing his hips to beat and bring Min Chi Rok close to him. Beom-Pal puts his hands on Min Chi Rok shoulder and drops his body to floor. And as rises back his whole body sways to the rhythm of song. Once he is face to face again with Min Chi Rok, he feels the other man put his hand his waist and leads him around living. They seem to get closer with each Beom-Pal close to his chest. Beom-Pal can hear his heart beating out his chest. Whether its from the dancing or being close to the other man, he’s not sure. Min Chi Rok changes the positon of his hand that’s been on his waist.  Now  his arm curls around the waist to the back as to support Beom-Pal as he dips him. Before he can react he’s back up doing several more spins.

  Back to being chest to chest to his dance partner the song ends and goes into another one. Beom-Pal really not paying attention anymore to the song, he’s trying to get his heart not to leap out of his chest. He stares at the Min Chi Rok who looks like he’s trying to control his breath.  Two things at all at once , Beom-Pal feels the hand that was on his waist move lower to the inside of back pocket and Min Chi Rok moves his face closer to Beom-Pal’s face that they might as well be sharing the same breath.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: It was tradition for Initiates to challenge a Knight or a Master to debate them to pass their Introduction to Diplomacy I course. Anakin didn't mind it, but he’d prefer it if all these kids would stop running up to Obi-Wan he’s practicing ‘sabers with his Master.

AN: The idea came up in a talk with @alabasterswriting I hope you like it!

If Anakin didn’t know better, he’d say that Obi-Wan was attempting to dissuade him from using two lightsabers. His Master’s attacks were downright brutal and savage, the sixteen-year-old hadn’t really known that Obi-Wan was capable of such aggressive attacks. Anakin had been aware that Obi-Wan could fight like it, he had seen the recordings from his battle against the Sith on Naboo and studied them relentlessly, but it was very different to experience Obi-Wan fighting seriously. None of that harshness in his moves translated to his mind, of course. Obi-Wan was the perfect picture of serenity and even amusement in the Force. Anakin could feel his joy every time he managed to block one of his strikes, happy that his student was learning, yet his strikes didn’t lessen in power.

“Right arm up!” Obi-Wan ordered as he attempted to strike Anakin from the right, where before he had left himself defenseless.

Anakin parried his blade successfully, even if his grip on the training ‘saber he was using slipped. He, therefore, wasn’t fast enough to twirl the blade around when Obi-Wan initiated the next attack. The low-level blade halted right in front of Anakin’s throat.

“Solah,” Anakin called and watched as Obi-Wan stepped back into the ready-stance.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and adjusted his grip on his lightsaber. His own sat perfectly in his hand. He had tinkered with it relentlessly, still sometimes found a way to change or improve it. Obi-Wan had commented on it a few times since it apparently wasn’t so usual for a Jedi to work as continuously on their ‘saber as Anakin, but he couldn’t deny the results. Anakin just felt like his weapon needed to reflect every lesson he had learned, the path of the Force was always easier to follow when it rang harmoniously.

“I still think practice would be more fruitful if I actually had a blade that fit me,” Anakin said as he fell back into the first stance of Jar’kai.

He had trouble sticking to the very basic form and not immediately try to work in the stances he knew from other forms. Obi-Wan insisted that the groundwork had to be there first before he could branch out, but to Anakin it was all instinct.

And his instinct said that he needed two blades that both fit the hands they were meant to be wielded with.

“You’re not building a second lightsaber, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, faking an exhausted sigh.

“Yet,” Anakin added and attacked Obi-Wan once more. He held himself against his Master a little longer this time but was soon pushed to the defensive again. Anakin definitely wasn’t a fan of staying passive, but Obi-Wan cared more about having a good defense than a good offense.

If you could counter your opponent’s every strike and had more endurance than them, a passable offense could defeat them. If your defense sucked, you died.

Obi-Wan had cited old Jedi philosophy when he had begun instructing Anakin in combat, but that was what his lecture had boiled down to.

The next thing he had told Anakin was that if you could fight dirty, you should. Anakin had been taught that lesson years ago on Tatooine. Survival was never about pride or honor, but about enduring and not losing yourself.

Anakin blocked another strike, then feigned an attack towards the right. Obi-Wan adjusted his steps only minimally, but Anakin knew that he had fallen for it so he threw himself to his right faster than Obi-Wan could react and managed to reach his side to a far closer degree than he had expected. Obi-Wan jumped back again before he could connect, but Anakin had succeeded in breaking his offense regardless.

He spun his ‘sabers around with a victorious grin. “How was that, Master?”

Obi-Wan smiled and turned off his blade. “Well done, Padawan. Or what do you think?”

Confused, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, needing a moment to realize he wasn’t speaking to Anakin at all. Instead, he had turned to a group of Initiates standing at the entrance of the training hall. There were about seven of them, all around the same age, staring at Anakin and Obi-Wan with big eyes.

“Super cool!” The first Initiate cheered and soon after the rest of the group joined in.

Taking Obi-Wan’s acknowledgment of them as an invitation, the children entered the training hall, all babbling and asking questions. Anakin felt his cheeks heat under all that praise. He was good, he knew that or Obi-Wan wouldn’t have moved up his training or he wouldn’t score so high in his classes, but Anakin always felt like he wasn’t good enough yet. There was something he had the strange feeling that there was something he had to be prepared for and his current level wouldn’t be enough.

He had to get stronger.

“What can Padawan Skywalker and I help you with?” Obi-Wan asked the children kindly.

Anakin could still go a couple more rounds before he needed a break, but he figured he might as well use the time to grab a drink. He deactivated his blades, clipped them onto his belt and then walked over to the benches where he had stashed his water.

The Initiates all looked amongst themselves, suddenly shy. After a few seconds, they seemed to have agreed on a speaker as a young Nautolan Initiate stepped forward.

“Master Kenobi, we are here to ask whether you would do us the honor to debate us for our Introduction to Diplomacy I final exam.”

Anakin couldn’t help himself, he snorted, earning himself an annoyed look from Obi-Wan. This was the third group of Initiates to approach Obi-Wan about their final exam. Obi-Wan’s reputation as a genius negotiator had started to make the rounds – praise his Master more than deserved in Anakin’s opinion – and many had decided that challenging him and having him accept that challenge was a great honor. Anakin himself had debated Quinlan for his final exam. He wasn’t a particularly good speaker, likely also never would be as he got too invested too quickly and tended to bulldoze through arguments. However, no amount of Jedi Shadow training and secret undercover missions Anakin wasn’t supposed to be aware of but knew about anyway because Quinlan tended to leave Aayla in their care when he was gone, could defeat first-hand knowledge of how the Hutt’s reign in the Outer Rim worked. Anakin had won that debate based on personal experience, but he had won it.

Anakin didn’t mind that all these Initiates were now crowding around Obi-Wan so often, honestly, he thought it was pretty adorable actually, but he would prefer it if they chose to approach Obi-Wan when he wasn’t training with Anakin.

Resigning himself to the fact that the rest of the afternoon would be spent watching Obi-Wan trying to talk himself out of being one of the examiners for the Initiates, Anakin began to put his water bottle away and collected the tunics he had thrown on the floor while sparring.

“Padawan Skywalker?”

Anakin looked up to see that one Initiate had separated from the group. She was a little shorter than the other children her age, but she looked twice as determined.

“Can I help you?”

The girl nodded seriously. “I’m Initiate Shallan Rom and I request your aid in preparing for my Introduction to Diplomacy I final exam.”

She clasped her hands behind her back and bowed once formally before resuming her previous position. Anakin smiled apologetically at Shallan.

“I’m sorry, I’d love to help, but I’m really not good at all that diplomacy stuff,” Anakin explained. He shrugged and then ran his hand through his grease hair. “I’m better at fighting.”

“My rhetoric marks are excellent,” Shallan continued, proving her point as she spoke with carefully selected words. “I’d like your help when it comes to finding arguments.”

“Arguments?” Anakin repeated. “What topic do you want to debate?”

Now the girl blushed slightly, though the dark color of her skin and the green tattoos on her cheeks almost hid it completely.

“You’re the only Padawan who has been granted early access to the upper-level greenhouses by Master Windu. I want to go there as well and have decided to debate Master Windu for that right. My crèchemaster told me you might be able to help me.”

Anakin’s face split into a grin as he heard her words. He had pretty much bullied Master Windu for the right to get access to that greenhouse when he had been eleven so he could keep taking care of one of the flowers he had inherited from Qui-Gon and didn’t have to hand it over to somebody else. The plants in those greenhouses were extremely delicate, hence not wanting any children in them without supervision. Most of them only wanted in there to prove they could sneak in and not to actually care for the greenery in there.

“And why do you want in there?” Anakin asked.

“We keep a couple of plants from Kiffu up there,” Shallan slowly. “It’s my homeworld. I’d like to see something real from it.”

That was a sentiment Anakin could relate to. He glanced at Obi-Wan, but his Master was still busy fending off the other Initiates.

“Alright, sit down,” Anakin said. Shallan smiled at him, practically vibrating with happiness and excitement. “First things first, the plants up there are very sensitive and/or dangerous, so you will want to show you can be responsible and know how to deal with poisons…”

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 8

This is the eighth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Next

Gray-blue eyes darken like a storm cloud.

“You want to kill the vampires who killed your mother.”

It’s not a question, but Eren nods, and Eren watches as thin black eyebrows dip slightly, Levi’s lips pulling into a tight frown. For a moment, Eren expects Levi to reprimand him, to tell him that he shouldn’t stoop to their level, or some other self-righteous bullshit. He hasn’t told anyone about the burning in his chest, the desire to hurt those monsters as bad as they hurt his mother. He’s been hesitant to admit the desire to himself, a part of him truly afraid that revenge will make him a monster too—as if he has any humanity left in him.

But he also knows that he’d want to kill them even if they hadn’t turned him. He wants them dead with every fiber of his being.

Maybe Eren was already a monster, even before he was turned.

So, he waits for it. The disgust, the disdain, the feelings he’s felt towards himself these past few months. He expects to see it on Levi’s face, for Levi to view Eren as he views himself. Levi has willingly given up killing vampires because he thinks that they’re still human. Levi has put that sort of violence behind him. He was a vampire hunter from birth, and he chose to quit.

Eren is the opposite.

Where do his mother’s murderers fit in Levi’s criteria for vampires who deserve to live and vampires who deserve to die? Where will Eren fit if—when he kills them?

Levi pulls his hand out of Eren’s, and Eren braces himself, his gaze locked onto the table.

“We need to go.”

It takes Eren a moment to process the words, and by the time he raises his head, Levi is across the room, his hand already on the break room door.

“Go where?”

“Somewhere I can teach you properly.”

That’s how Eren ends up following Levi into the parking lot, and then driving with only the taillights of Levi’s car to guide him through the darkened streets. Levi hasn’t said a word since they left the restaurant, so Eren just blindly follows, taking turn after turn until they’re in a suburban neighborhood Eren has never been in before.

Levi marches purposefully to a narrow, two-story house after parking on the sidewalk, and Eren hurries to follow him.

“The easiest way to kill a vampire is to ambush them in their sleep and drag them into the sun,” Levi says as he unlocks the door to the house.

He steps inside and swerves to the left, throwing open the door to a coat closet just beside the entrance. Eren watches him curiously, closing the door behind them.

“Obviously, you can’t do that, or you’d die too,” Levi continues, kneeling on the floor as he rummages through the small closet.

Eren glances around the still dark house. Levi has yet to turn the lights on, but Eren is more than comfortable in the dark these days anyway. He scans the area, takes in the living room, the winding staircase and the small kitchen down the hall from the entrance. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for—though perhaps a part of him was hoping that Levi would have a wall of knives and stakes and weapons, like a vampire hunter from a movie—but there’s nothing unusual about the place, other than the fact that almost all of Levi’s furniture appears to be black.

Levi emerges from the closet and tosses something at Eren’s feet. Eren frowns once he realizes what it is.

“So I should use a water gun?”

“It’s a possibility,” Levi says. “It was a personal favorite of mine when I was younger. I’d fill it with holy water and spray them in the eyes; it doesn’t kill them, but temporarily blinding them provided good opportunities for other tactics.”

Eren swallows, staring down at the colorful toy with a mix of awe and apprehension. He can imagine it for a moment. Young Levi—in his early teens maybe?—armed with a water gun and a stake, spraying vampires in the face and stabbing them while they claw at their eyes.

Eren is extremely glad he’s on Levi’s nice list.

“The most important thing is the element of surprise,” Levi continues, back to sorting through his closet. “I’m human, so vampires have every advantage over me. Strength, senses, healing… For you, the vampires you want to kill will likely have more combat experience than you. You’re at a disadvantage by default, so you need to create your own openings.”

The next thing that Levi pulls out of the closet is a metal crossbow, and Eren stares incredulously at the weapon as Levi holds it out to him.

“This is always effective; it’s quick and simple,” Levi explains as Eren takes it into his hands, trying to make sense of the mess of metal bars and wires. “But only if you nail the first shot. You have to get them in the chest.”

Eren frowns.

“And if I miss?”

“Best case scenario, you’ve alerted the vampire to your presence but have injured them enough that you have a chance at close combat.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?”

“You didn’t hit them, and you die.”

Eren’s not sure why he asked.

“In any case, you need to prepare for close combat no matter what method you choose.”

Levi gets to his feet and kicks the closet door closed. As he turns back to Eren, he throws something, and Eren is used to the man’s sudden tosses, so he catches it with ease. As he examines the object in his hands, he realizes it’s a wooden knife, blade and all.

“Alright,” Levi says, stretching his arms out for a moment before crouching slightly, flipping the knife in his hand. “Try to kill me.”

Eren blinks.

“...What?”

Levi rolls his eyes as if Eren is the ridiculous one here.

“It’s a simple task, brat. Try to kill me.”

“I’m sorry—what part of what you just asked me to do is simple?”

“Don’t get queasy now. You’re the one who wanted to learn how to murder people.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll give you ten seconds, or I’m striking first.”

Eren’s gaze locks on the knife gripped in Levi’s hand.

“Ten.”

“Levi—”

“Nine.”

“Will you just—”

“Eight.”

Eren watches the man’s grip on the wooden handle tighten, sinking a bit lower into his crouch.

“Seven.”

“Oh for fuck’s—”

Eren grips his the knife tightly and it feels large and foreign in his hand—and a part of his brain realizes how fucking stupid he is because how the hell is he supposed to murder a vampire if he doesn’t know how to hold a knife—and he rushes at Levi, knife raised. He’s halfway to him, pushing his feet to run as fast as they can in the small room. He’s looking at Levi’s chest, trying to pretend that the hunter is a vampire. He pulls the weapon back like he’s pulling back for a punch.

When his arm shoots forward, he accidentally glances up at Levi’s face because the man has yet to move a muscle, and he swears for a moment that Levi is on the verge of a smirk—

Levi catches Eren’s arm before he can land a blow on him, twisting the limb sharply until Eren yelps and drops the wooden weapon. A swift kick to his ankles sweeps Eren off his feet, and Levi releases his arm to shove him to the floor, dashing any hopes Eren had of regaining his balance. Eren’s eyes squeeze shut as his back slams into the ground, and when he opens them again, Levi has a hand against his throat and the point of the knife hovering above Eren’s chest, where his dead heart is unable to portray the panic surging through his veins.

“You sure you thought this through?” Levi asks.

“I have!” Eren exclaims at first, but a raise of Levi’s eyebrow makes him frown and avert his gaze. “Maybe not so much about the execution of the plan, but…”

Levi scoffs and pulls away, tossing his knife in the air and catching it with enough ease that it makes Eren want to snap at him for showing off.

“Again.”

“Can’t you at least give me a few pointers about what I’m supposed to do—”

“Ten.”

“Are you really going to—”

“Nine.”

Eren glares at Levi, but the man tilts his head slightly, sinking back into his defensive stance.

“Eight.”

“Fuck you.”

Eren closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before scrambling to his feet. Okay. Trying to just rush him from the front is stupid anyway. He needs to think of something else.

“Seven.”

By the time he rushes towards Levi, he has not thought of something else.

He pulls back his arm and then practically throws himself forward. Levi reaches out to grab his arm out of the air like he did before, and Eren watches the movement, thinking that he can just dodge Levi’s grasp and try again—

Except it’s far harder to stop his own momentum than he thought it would be.

Levi grabs him and yanks Eren closer, and Eren feels the knife on his chest before he sees Levi’s arm move.

“You’re too slow,” Levi says, and Eren grits his teeth, yanking himself away.

He rummages around in his pockets, dropping the knife on the floor once he finds a hair tie in the back pocket of his pants. He’s already sweating, and his long hair flying in front of his eyes is not helping. Levi simply stares as Eren pulls his brown hair into an impromptu bun.

When Eren bends down to pick up the knife, he hears, “Ten.”

Eren scowls, but he readies himself. He switches the way he holds the knife, trying to hold it the way Levi does. Levi's grip is a bit looser, with the blade angled upward, sharp end facing out.

“Nine.”

He stares at Levi, trying to understand why he’s positioned the way he is.

“Eight.”

Eren plants his feet firmly on the floor and bends his legs slightly.

“Seven.”

He looks at Levi’s feet. The man is leaning forward slightly.

“Six.”

Eren leans forward, puts his weight on his toes and the balls of his feet.

“Five.”

He gets it, for a moment. It’ll be better for when he moves. It’s like he’s poised at the starting line of a race, waiting for the gun to go off.

“Four.”

Eren pulls his arms up in front of himself, shielding his face and his chest. He doesn’t know about knives, but he’s been in more than his fair share of fist fights.

“Three.”

He clearly doesn’t know anything about attacking just yet.

“Two.”

Maybe he’ll be better at defending.

“One.”

If nothing else, he’ll have the chance to observe Levi’s approach.

Eren watches Levi dash forward, and he pulls his knife in front of himself, thinking he can block Levi’s attack—

Levi’s arm moves like a flash, and Eren’s vaguely aware of pain in his hand before he takes in the crack of wood slamming against wood, before he realizes that thing flying through the air is his knife. He sees Levi shift his feet, his arms low, and Eren tries to jump out of the way, but Levi is too quick, his arms shooting upwards and forwards, and Eren can fucking hear the air whizzing around Levi’s arms, and for a second he thinks, this is where I die—

The wooden knife stops an inch away from his throat, but Eren is still trying to lean away and he loses his balance, stumbling backwards and falling on his ass.

Levi stands over him, knife loosely in his hand. He’s frowning, but there’s something different about his eyes. Eren isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but something in Levi’s eyes looks like it’s shining, like there’s something about this whole ordeal that excites him, thrills him.

His voice does not carry that same excitement.

“Never let the vampire attack first.”

Levi turns abruptly on his heel, marching back to his previous position. Eren takes a deep breath, wiping the beginnings of sweat from his forehead.

“Again,” Levi snaps, and Eren hurries to his feet, scrambling to find his knife as Levi continues to count down.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, and Eren is a tired, sweaty mess on Levi’s living room floor. He’s just been knocked off his feet for the umpteenth time. His chest is heaving, damp locks that escaped from his hasty bun sticking to his face like thin strands of glue. Levi is still standing, staring impassively at the big vampire sprawled on his carpeted floors, long limbs spread out, besides the arm over Eren’s face.

“Fuck,” Eren says, and Levi huffs.

“Let’s stop for today.”

“No!” Eren exclaims, hurriedly pushing himself upwards, though the action makes him dizzy, and he falls back to the floor. “Not until I get you at least once.”

“Eren,” Levi says, “today was just practice. You don’t have to be ready within one day.”

“Maybe I would do better if you explained something instead of just beating me up,” Eren grumbles.

“Today was just for me to get a sense of how you fight. You’re not going to magically be ready to hunt even if I told you what I thought you should do.”

Levi sighs, and Eren shifts his arm away from his face to squint up at the man.

“In any case, this is how I learned. I don’t know any other way to teach you.”

“Pity me,” Eren says, covering his eyes with his arm again. “We’re not all prodigies.”

“That’s why I’m telling you we can stop for today, you shitty brat.”

“No,” Eren says again. “One more… give me one more try.”

“Eren—”

“Just one,” Eren insists, pushing himself to his feet. “Then I’ll stop.”

Levi sighs, running his fingers through his own damp hair.

“Fine. One more.”

They slide back into their positions, and Eren takes slow steady breaths. He’s tired, but he’s not exhausted—his brain is far more fatigued than his body is. Eren wants to get it, and he wants for it all to click. Because he wants to kill those bastards who hurt his mom, and he fears that they’ll be out of his reach if he waits for too long.

He barely remembers what they look like, and it was months ago, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be lucky if the vampires are anywhere near enough for him to even attempt to find them.

“Ten.”

His chest is burning and not just from exertion. His muscles tense at just the thought of those fuckers getting away. He’s pissed at himself for not going after them right away, or at least sooner than this, even though he knows that his lack of knowledge and experience would’ve gotten him killed.

“Nine.”

Eren grits his teeth, and his fangs feel heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t care about the reality of the situation. He doesn’t care if it’s reckless or if he’s not ready. He wants to find them, and he wants them dead. He wants to be the one who kills them. He wants to make them pay.

“Eight.”

He wants to make them scream, just like his mother did.

“Seven.”

His body feels incredibly light as he rushes forward. The knife is in his hand, but he’s rushing face first, fangs bared, his mouth open and ready to snap. He sees his mother’s throat in the back of his mind, bloody and fragile, and it’s far too easy to envision those red-eyed monsters in front of him, thanks to the darkness of Levi’s house—

Levi.

The man’s eyes are wide, and even though Eren sees that his hands are already coming up to block, even though he knows that Levi is a vampire hunter, that it’ll be easy for him to dodge, he freezes midstep, close enough that he can hear Levi breathing.

The fire in his chest has stopped burning, and he feels sick to his stomach.

“Eren?”

Eren’s whole body feels stiff. He brings his hands up to cover his mouth and looks back to the spot where he was previously standing. He moved so fast. He doesn’t remember taking more than a single step.

“I’m sorry,” Eren says, his voice muffled by his hands.

“For what?” Levi asks, trying to step into Eren’s line of sight, but Eren jerks his head away. “That was good; we should’ve been practicing like that this whole time. With the way you are, sometimes I forget. But you should be using all your abilities. Your fangs are a better weapon than any shitty knife.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t—I don’t want to practice like that.”

“Why not?”

Eren wants to vomit. He squeezes his eyes shut, and he’s reliving that day again. But it’s different. He sees himself at the party, thrashing about. He’s throwing his cake off the table, breaking all the windows in the house. His mother is screaming at him, Stop Eren, please! He’s the vampire. He’s the red-eyed monster tearing his mother’s throat out.

His mouth—his fangs throb.

It’s not true. He knows it’s not. He was human before that night.

But a memory that is most definitely real flashes in his brain. One he’s been trying to push down.

It’s the morning after his birthday. He’s in a panic, calling the police, begging them to save his mom even though she’s already gone. And he sees himself in the reflection of the glass scattered around the house. There’s blood on his mouth. He wipes it off, and that’s when he sees the scar, the fangs. And somehow, a part of Eren knows that the blood in his mouth isn’t his own.

“Eren!”

Levi’s voice drags him back to the present, and Eren is still pressing his hands over his mouth. He’s crouched on the floor, curled in on himself, and there’s something wet spilling over his cheeks, his hands.

Levi kneels down in front of him, and Eren realizes he’s crying. Again.

He feels pathetic.

“I don’t—” Eren chokes out. “I don’t want to fight like that. Like them.”

“Okay,” Levi says, and his voice is soft.

“I don’t wanna be like them,” Eren says, “but I… I—”

“It’s okay,” Levi says, “you won’t be.”

“But I—”

“Eren,” Levi says, and his firm tone makes Eren press his lips together, dropping his gaze to the floor.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and then it slides lower, to the center of his back. And when Levi pushes his unsteady body forward, Eren falls without complaint. His head drops onto Levi’s shoulder, and he feels like a child as he reaches out to grasp Levi’s shirt in his hands. The man’s arms wrap around him, and Levi sits there, silent, as he lets Eren cry into his shoulder, wide shoulders shaking with the effort to regain control of himself.

“Am I a monster?” Eren asks, his already quiet voice muffled as he speaks the words into Levi’s shoulder.

“No,” Levi whispers, and his head drops to rest on Eren’s. “You’re human. Fuck, you’re more human than me.”

“What do you…?”

Levi just shakes his head and pulls Eren closer. Eren sighs, sagging against Levi.

“Don’t wanna be like them,” he mumbles again.

“You won’t be,” Levi whispers. “You won’t be.”

[ksbwnotes]

Chapter 9, Part 1

Ahhhh...poor son of a bitch.

1. Heyyyyy, green tape

Hmmmn, Koogi seems to use green a lot...is that just more common a color for duct tape in Korea? But thing is, her main outfit for Bum is green tones. And he likes froggies, which are green. 

Also, we never do see Sangwoo use this tape with CEO daughter girl (just ropes, a cloth for her mouth, and this weird metal thing to cover her eyes). Or with Bum, for that matter (I only saw it so far used with Koogi’s illustrations, which are a different matter altogether...I might be mistaken, I won’t skip to that part, but Sangwoo might have used it on Bum in the last chapters, which could signify how far his mentality has deteriorated). 

But this guy is different. Sangwoo has no emotional attachment to him.  The duct tape could be, in a way, signifying how worthless this person is to Sangwoo. That he’s nothing more than a box full of unsavory memories he would rather tape shut forever and throw away to rot.

2. Ooohp. Bastard’s bringing out his iconic apron

Sangwoo the butcher.

But this is something new that we haven’t seen before. Again, Sangwoo has never once wore this with Bum. So that means Sangwoo truly has no intentions of going easy on this guy. Blood is going to be pretty much spurting every-the-fuck-where. 

So even though Sangwoo doesn’t consciously plan to kill someone, he has his habits and ideas down to a pat so that once he does get into that territory, he can more or less get right down to it. Sangwoo seems to do what he can to ‘separate’ himself from his atrocious acts, but also fulfilling an ‘aesthetic’ that fits with the atrocity he has become. 

Like, that apron.  Too risky to wear regular clothes, so apron is the next best thing and can act as a barrier of some sort once the blood goes flying. It’ll reduce how much splatters onto his skin and how much of his body he has to actually clean. It’s also just keep things less gross and more sanitary that way lol.

3. I am the type to find this funny and really be amused by Sangwoo’s smartass-ness

I suck at being a smartass and I can’t do it, so I really appreciate it whenever someone else can, even if it’s mean lol. But if it’s mean, it’s a guilty pleasure for me, like right now. x’D

4. Honestly, Sangwoo, how did you get yourself into this situation...

Oh!  So he was able to get out of the blow job. Nice. The guy was actually respectful. If Sangwoo were sane, he’d understand this and just run away instead of luring this guy in to kill him. 

But, really, why did Sangwoo put himself into this position?  I don’t have anything foolproof as evidence, but I really don’t think Sangwoo is the type who actually needs to kill at specific intervals as an outlet.

If anything, Sangwoo has a more...instinctual response to sexual situations, like Bum. For Bum, he becomes hyper-aroused and zeroes in on the pleasure to a point that it overrides his more logical line of thinking. The “he’s a killer I should be scared” becomes “it feels so good and nothing else can exist but this pleasure”.

For Sangwoo, he has two modes. The first one is passive, where he’s just following his partner’s whims and saying that he’s enjoying things but he’s actually just powerless to resist. It’s his instinctual reaction after being forced to just...take his mom’s advances. He feels empty, like a doll that is just meant to be used and taken for pleasure. It’s no better than being a corpse that is fulfilling another’s necrophilic tendencies.

The second mode, I believe, came to be as a self-defense mechanism to the first mode. In order to avoid ever feeling like that, he is in control of everything. He has complete dominance over his partner. In a way, the extreme violence is the only way he can genuinely feel pleasure because he’s ‘safe’. He can literally go one way or the other, his trauma has made it impossible for him to have any other mode than ‘docile’ or ‘predator’. 

5. Well, even without the possibility of murdering someone, Sangwoo choosing an alias is no surprise

He did go into a gay bar, lol.

I also find it interesting that this is where we get a look into Bum’s thoughts. And it’s regarding Sangwoo’s alias. 

Also, now I am wondering if Sangwoo ever resorted to using aliases with his other prey. Because if he had, then this does add a whole other layer of premeditation to his serial killing. Even if he’s not purposefully scouting for prey, it would at least mean he’s always prepared in the event that he comes across prey. 

That is what makes Jieun such an outlier and also Sangwoo’s downfall in terms of getting caught. Jieun knows Sangwoo personally. There is a connection between them. And her disappearance could easily be traced back to him. Sangwoo isn’t an idiot. He knows how to pick and choose his prey and he probably makes sure to never make it so that the prey can call him by name. 

That is also what makes Bum such an interesting outlier. Because Sangwoo is risking A LOT just to keep him--someone who knows Sangwoo’s real name and actually has witnessed his personal life, both in the outside world and behind closed doors. Sangwoo chose him over the girl. Sangwoo broke his legs, not only to keep Bum from escaping, but to keep Bum with him. 

This does suggest that Sangwoo is not serial killing for the thrill of it (at least, not just for that), but because he’s in search for something that could replace the kills. Sangwoo doesn’t want a pile of dead bodies under his feet--he wants one alive body to stay by his side and love him, in spite of those dead bodies. 

6. ....cute motherfucker

Koogi, I resent you so much for making him this cute...

Honestly though, it just strikes me how Sangwoo keeps trying to keep on a carefree and happy facade even during times like these. We do later see him doing that as a habit as a child, so it fits that he does that on steroids during his adult years, especially considering the things he does. I’ll refer back to this when we get to Jieun’s death scene.

7. Shows of weakness

Ah damn I’m going to have to revisit this part. I have a lot of thoughts on it, but I’m too sleep deprived to actually make sense of it. But this part is important in understanding Sangwoo’s mentality and the ways he tries to train Bum to fit a certain image.

Aaaaaand today is a new day!!  So going forth:

During the times Bum showed fear and was trembling, I do think a major part of why Sangwoo hates it so much is because it reminds him of how much of a monster he is. But I also think it’s because it reminds him of his mom, which he does say about Bum’s trembling. Because no matter what happened to his mom, she never learned her lesson. If she were able to change, then Sangwoo’s childhood would be less painful. 

But Bum being quiet and looking scared, but still able to meet Sangwoo’s eyes...that reminds Sangwoo of what he was while with his parents. And even though Sangwoo does hate himself--to a point where he doesn’t want to change because he has no belief he can be better--I do think he’s grieving for that child who had no clue that things will just get worse and worse from there. 

Especially since, from what I’m assuming, he knew how to manipulate his image so that he could avoid being beaten and locked up like his mother. So he would hold more respect towards his conditioned response versus his mother’s conditioned response. He probably refused to admit to himself how he felt back then, because obviously that’s a cruel thought to have and Sangwoo’s level of empathy was still average to high at the time. But it still doesn’t erase his resentment towards her inability to be better (I think this also contributed to why Sangwoo presumably felt ‘free’ after his first kill).

I think I’ll have a better grasp over my thoughts once we get to Jieun’s death >_< 

8. *opens mouth, then silently closes it*

That first sentence probably is not meant to sound the way Sangwoo makes it sound. xD  Which is a bit too gay for someone who firmly claims he is wholly hetero.

Oh actually this is funny. Since the only other person in the basement is a guy, the card dude probably thinks Sangwoo really is gay or internalized-antigay or something. But the truth is a lot more complex and sinister than what it appears to be on the surface.

9. Ooooooh, high stakes indeed

Lol, this does drive home the idea to me that Sangwoo is really pissed at Bum. Because, again, he would’ve never went to that gay bar had it not been for Bum. So, in a way, even though Sangwoo internally knows Bum isn’t the one going out in a body bag, this instillation of fear is a punishment for making him question his sexuality in a way that triggered Sangwoo’s trauma. Because there is literally no safe way for Sangwoo to explore his sexuality considering his past and his current lifestyle.

On the other end of the spectrum, I wonder how Bum is feeling about this. He probably genuinely believes that Sangwoo is genuinely putting Bum’s life on the line, in a way that if he fails the card game, he’ll die. Like. I definitely would. No matter what past form of affection Sangwoo showed, if he says he’ll kill me, I would full-heartedly be like “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t doubt you, hun.”

And, still, Bum knows better now than to complain or beg. Because unlike his mother, despite his own mental issues, Bum can be trained and that is why Sangwoo keeps him around.

10. Where do you come up with these things, you bastard

I mean, seriously, he has so many ideas on how to break a person. These are more psychopathic than sociopathic tendencies, I think, so that’s why Sangwoo right now, is a high-functioning sociopath.

11. Oh my fkkn god tho, this smart boi XD

Or maybe I’m just dumb and have no clue how to play cards. 

Or maybe Sangwoo has been spending time with Bum playing cards.

Or maybe Bum is just good at cards and has spent his time practicing them.

Either way, the fact that Bum is able to fkkn pay attention during these times shows that his own trauma and mental issues have no bearing on how smart he actually is. He doesn’t have strong observation skills and is slow to understand people, but that’s more of a natural character trait, even if it is more emphasized by his mental disorders...mmmn, I do kinda wonder if Bum could have some traits shared with autism but I’m too neruotypical and untrained to say whether or not he does.

12. No seriously, we have creative Sangwoo here with this card game from hell...

...Then we have Bum here able to pull out logical conclusions like his mind is clear despite the immense anxiety and pressure of the situation. There’s a reason why Bum is still alive. For some reason, the longer Bum is stuck in his situation, the more 

13. Seriously, I could stab him in the eye for being so cute despite being revolting, it’s not RIGHT KOOGI

Stab stab stab stab

14. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I still can’t help but point out how Sangwoo is making sure to be close to Card!dude and facing Bum

This would be the most logical choice since it will ensure his victim doesn’t try to escape. And even if he does, he can quickly do shit like pulling back his hair if he tries to be ‘bratty’. Also, being behind someone like this is meant to represent a menacing appearance and being the ‘controller’ behind the scenes. Sangwoo has the upperhand since card!dude can’t see him and Sangwoo can do whatever he wants to the guy. 

But this also puts Sangwoo and Bum on more equal ground. Sort of like “partners in crime” because they can face each other and communicate via body language. In a way, Sangwoo can help Bum or make Bum do things, influencing his next move. While, at the same time, keeping a literal eye on Bum but without the upperhand he has on card!dude--because Bum can also keep an eye out on him. 

15. I’d probably laugh if I were Sangwoo too lol

I bet you Sangwoo didn’t expect Bum to actually get the goddamn ace. The fact that Bum is this fkkn lucky is indicative of how Bum is lucky enough to even be alive at this point. Bum has been able to avoid his ‘fate of death’ over and over again that, honestly, the sheer disbelief of it is ridiculous. But it’s also like Sangwoo is saying ‘Of course you’d get the goddamn ace. Of course you would, you little shit, why am I even still surprised by you at this point’.

In a way, Sangwoo might also be thinking that ‘Huh, it’s like I meant to mess with the cards so that’d they be in your favor.’ But of course, he can’t have that because Bum being ‘too’ happy about things means he won’t be able to control Bum. So, for Bum’s case, he’s doing a second round to train Bum further, rather than to fuck with him before he kills him (like what he’s doing with card!dude).

Other than that, this is also indicative of just how well Bum is dealing with the anxiety of this moment. Card!dude might have done better (though he can’t have that much control over the cards) under normal circumstances, but between the both of them, Bum is actually calm enough to think things through. It says a lot about his capabilities lol. It makes me wonder what kind of person he could’ve been had he been raised well.

ALSO, AGAIN WITH YOU BEING CUTE SANGWOO. NO. ESPECIALLY NOT UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES YOU ASSHOLE. STOP IT.

16. Lol, even though this is a throwaway line, I think this is indicative of who Sangwoo has already chosen

This is really like a “come on, partner in crime, get up to my level here and let’s fuck with this fucker together”. But the thing is, Bum is just as much a victim as this guy. There is literally no way for Bum to think any other way but Sangwoo fucking with both of them, not just card!dude. 

Because the thing is, if Bum forgot himself and reacted the same way as card!dude, Sangwoo would kill him, along with card!dude.

But yeah, it does make me think of how Sangwoo would’ve reacted if card!dude actually won. How would his script go? Would he still do a practice round? Or would that have been enough for Sangwoo, and he would’ve skipped to the next part of his plan?

I don’t think this second round was something Sangwoo expected. And that really drove home to him how Bum keeps surpassing his expectations again and again. 

17. *wince* Oohp.

The trembling and slight protest. Definitely not what Sangwoo wants to see. I can’t blame Bum for responding like this, BECAUSE A FKKN SERIAL KILLER IS PRETTY MUCH TRYING TO SCREW HIM OVER, but at the same time, he should know better than to respond this way. 

I also do think, other than the threat to his life, Bum is perceiving this as Sangwoo ‘choosing’ card!dude over Bum. It’s like a rejection and that probably hits Bum’s rejection sensitivity. If it was just a threat to his life, Bum would probably be able to still stay silent at this point (uh, most likely not because again, life is on the line, but still maybe). However, there’s also this sense that Sangwoo doesn’t actually want him to live--that the card game is just an excuse to kill Bum.

18.  think it says a lot that Sangwoo still responds to Bum’s protest via ‘patting’ him on the head rather than pulling on his hair. 

If card!dude was more intuitive, then he probably would’ve noticed that something was off in the way Sangwoo was treating Bum. More leniently. Because any small variation in treatment is not a promising outlook for card!dude.

But the thing is--now that I know how the ending is--Sangwoo is just doing this as a way to fuck with the other dude.  Actually he was probably proud of Bum winning so that he could further fuck with card!dude and make him taste the bitterness of false hope. Sort of like a “heh, you did better than I thought you would”. 

Sangwoo does want him to live because this card game is not about ‘who’ to choose. Sangwoo has already chosen Bum. This is just a matter of how much satisfaction Sangwoo can get against his revenge on the other guy.

Though, Bum is genuinely worried because why would he think that lol. There is also this thing where Sangwoo chose to kill a pretty girl and keep him, a skinny male loser, alive. So from his stand point, Sangwoo’s choices are difficult to pinpoint. Bum also won’t see himself as more ‘attractive’ than card!dude, so he most likely was scared that Sangwoo’s choices has changed once again and he would be thrown away like CEO daughter.

19. Hmmmn...

Now that card!dude has been given a second chance and can see Sangwoo’s willingness as a show of ‘favorability’, he has more control over his anxiety (which I do think is different from Bum, who has this sort of ‘on-off’ button for his anxiety, versus card!dude who seems to have more of a ‘reduction-enlargement’ slider). He probably feels more confident. 

And this is probably exactly what Sangwoo wanted, because then that will make the fall so much sweeter, the look of horror that much more gratifying.

20. Really, and there were people who wanted Sangwoo and Bum to have a happily ever after

The psychological warfare Sangwoo is putting onto Bum is so brutal that it’s really difficult to keep reading. Again, Koogi making it so that Sangwoo got better, then got worse when he realized he couldn’t handle what it means to ‘improve’, and then die...it made me respect this work so much, because nothing about this is romanticized.  And furthermore, Bum didn’t die, but at the same time, he was scars that will never be able to heal. His mentality was worse in the end than it was in the beginning, which is a goddamn feat because there wasn’t much left for him to fall.

Another alternative that I saw float around was Bum and Sangwoo dying together and...no. No no no. That’s too romanticized as well. And Bum being left alive while Sangwoo dies has this very...god I don’t even know how to explain. It’s not a happy ending. For me, there’s no vindication for it because I got to see just how deeply Sangwoo was suffering, which made it impossible for me to enjoy his death despite every incredibly shitty thing he has done. It was literally just...a masterpiece. One that showed just how, really, there are places on earth that truly have no hope and the suffering only ends with death. 

I usually never like nihilistic stories like these. Like seriously, there’s a reason why I avoided Killing Stalking like the plague. But after so many stories where things have a happy ending just because they MUST, it doesn’t only get tiring, but destructive for me. 

And Killing Stalking is special to me because instead of showing that everything was hopeless in the beginning just BECAUSE life is hopeless, period...it shows that things could’ve gone differently because Sangwoo and Bum were never truly without hope in the beginning. Sangwoo wasn’t a classic serial killer. Bum just needed better guidance. They just needed to be given a goddamn chance, like so many people in the world in general.

Instead of outright nihilism, it’s more in line with existentialism and that things reach the point of no return if nothing is changed. Or that if there are changes, it’s the type of change that makes things worse and doesn’t allow for healing.

Anyways, I don’t quite have all my thoughts on this together, so this is something I have to revisit once I’m done reading KS.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Well This is Strange and Unexpected [Toshinori x Reader] [Part 1 of ?]

Part 2 ->

I tried to resist completely weebing out over My Hero Academia, but Toshinori’s siren call pulled me in. It’s weird writing for a fandom with more than 5 people in it, but oh well… I AM HERE! 

Summary: Female reader with a healing-ish quirk rescues a sickly stranger, and impulsively asks him out. Toshi is touched that someone would be attracted to him in his weak form, but weirder still… you don’t like All Might?!

3,990 words | SFW

A couple of guys were harassing him. One of them had him by the cuff of his shirt (which hung loosely on him, accentuating his shriveled size), snapping shark-like teeth, while the other one stood back and threateningly produced sparks from his fingertips. This wasn’t what you expected when you walked into the corner store, but not really surprising—this isn’t the best neighborhood.

They didn’t seem like real villains, at least. They were being careful not to actually use their quirks to do anything beyond intimidate, or else heroes might get involved.

Just assholes bullying an easy target.

The guy they were picking on didn’t seem too worried either, despite being the most fragile-looking man you’ve ever seen. Gaunt cheeks and deeply sunken eyes—everything about him, in fact, giving the impression of a zombie—with a mop of blond hair that was just as oversized as his clothes. He looked more annoyed at his current situation than anything, glancing over his shoulder and scowling like he’d left the oven on at home.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attitude.

Shark-face and sparky weren’t as charmed. “Hey! Are we boring you, grandpa? Learn a little respect!” They shove him forward and back between each other until he doubles over in pain, wheezing and coughing blood. That can’t be from anything they did. Come to think of it, they’re in the medicine aisle. Wow, they decided to pick on a sick guy. They push him to the floor while he’s still hacking and convulsing, struggling to breathe. Your fists clench at your sides.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” the zombie growls, wiping the blood from his lips like a boxer who just took a punch and is ready to deal it back. Except they barely had to touch him. He could be in trouble if this turns into a serious fight.

His ice-colored eyes dart around the room, looking for something, anything he can turn to his advantage, like a desperate, wounded animal. A news report of some big drawn-out fight with All Might earlier today plays on a TV above the register. The cashier doesn’t look up. Other customers are in the store, but nobody is paying any attention—nobody wants to get involved.

You don’t want to get involved either, but…

The shark-tooth guy lands a kick to his ribs, shooting more blood out of the thin man’s mouth, while his accomplice cackles wildly. “That’ll wipe that smug look off your face!” He goes in to kick him again—

“STOP IT!” you shout, rushing forward to insert yourself between the bleeding man on the floor and his assailants. Adrenaline pulses in your veins. Your muscles shake. Thanks to your quirk, you’re not too scared of getting hurt, but you have no idea how to fight, or what to do next.

“What’s this?” the shark menaces, with a harsh laugh. “You his little girlfriend or something?”

Your cheeks flame, but before you can deny it, you think—they probably think a guy like that couldn’t get a girlfriend. They’re already bullying him for being weak. So you announce defiantly, “Yeah, maybe I am!”

“Really? This loser?” His jaw drops.

“All the more reason to break his face in,” the fire-starter snarls. “Then you can date a real man.” He steps in to your space, uncomfortably close, and runs his tongue over his lip. Your skin crawls. Ugh, why did I go and provoke him?

“M-miss, please don’t get involved.” Shaking, the pale blond struggles to his feet behind you. “It’s fine—” The other criminal shuts him up with a hand around his throat. His cold eyes narrow fiercely at the assailant, but his struggling does nothing to loosen his grip.

“Sure, I’ll go out with a real man. Know any?” you spit.

“Bitch!” he growls, and winds up to strike you, his fist suddenly engulfed in flame. Smoke (or is it steam?) begins to fill the room.

You drop to the floor before he ever touches you.

Then you start screaming.

“AAAHHHH, HELP!!!! WAAAHHH!” you cry in your most pathetic, high-pitched wail. “NOOOO, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!! HELP!!! POLICE! POLICE!!!”

The blond guy has stopped kicking against his attacker’s grip, and the attacker has lost his zest for choking. They’re both just staring at you. So is everyone else in the store. Other customers are peeking over the tops of the aisles, or rushing over to help. Somebody asks, “Are they beating up a girl?”

“AAIIIIEEE!!! OW, OUCH!” you sob, clutching the imaginary wound on the side of your face.

The two troublemakers glance at each other. Then at the growing audience.

They drop the stranger and run.

Everyone is a little surprised when you’re suddenly all better, but they turn and go back to their shopping. “That was disgraceful,” says a stern voice above you. His ego was clearly hurt being rescued that way, but his eyes are warm as he offers you his hand and helps you up.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a cheeky grin, brushing off your clothes.

“You didn’t have to get involved, you know. What was your plan if they didn’t run away? That was a risky gamble.”

“Nah. I know their type. They were counting on not drawing too much attention, that’s why they were going after a weak target… uh…”

The guy is pouting with a tragic look on his face. “Weak,” he repeats in a long, extended squeak. His shoulders fall, “It’s true.”

“Are you alright, anyway?”

“Me?” he perks up, giving a big smile to show he’s OK, and pointing a thumb at himself. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. Thank you for hel—”

Blood gushes from his mouth, and he falls to the floor, unconscious.

****

Dammit, why’d I have to get jumped when I’m already way past my limit? I hate this weak body. Pathetic. I can’t protect anyone. Not even myself.

Everything is dark. Everything is quiet except for the steady pulse of his heart. Then he hears your voice, distant and small, calling to him. Slowly, the voice gets closer. The darkness fades. Yagi Toshinori feels himself coming back to life.

As his eyes open and his vision clears, he sees you, hovering over him. His lungs aren’t filled with blood anymore. In fact, he hasn’t felt this good since the last time Recovery Girl healed him. He looks up at you smiling back at him.

“Thank goodness,” you whisper. You cough, and blood runs down your chin.

****************************************************

“I don’t have a healing quirk. Not really,” you explain, wiping blood from your face. “I can’t make injuries go away, but I can transfer them between people. The neat part is, it isn’t all-or-nothing: I can absorb, say, 10 percent of a wound, and share the burden so we can both recover. But if I wanted to heal somebody all the way, I’d end up just as hurt. So, my quirk is honestly pretty useless.”

“That doesn’t sound useless at all. You helped me, didn’t you?” The stranger’s bright eyes are piercingly kind as they gaze up at you from their dark sockets. Even on the floor of the medicine aisle of a convenience store, with drying blood speckling his white shirt, he has an inspiring aura that makes you want to believe his compliments instead of brush them off.

“How are you feeling? I couldn’t heal you anywhere near all the way. Your body is… pretty messed up. UHHHH, sorry for using my quirk on you without permission! I… kind of know some private medical information about you now. Sorry.”

With great strain, he sits up on his elbows, and struggles to get to his feet, but is caught off balance by a fresh fit of coughing, and slumps back down. You offer him a hand. As soon as you’ve pulled him up, you are wracked by a bloody cough, and he quickly grabs your shoulder to keep you from stumbling.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice, lanky bangs falling in front of his face. “You’re suffering now because of me.”

“It’s nothing, really. I only took a little; you’re the one who’s been suffering. Can I help you get home? Do you have anywhere close you can rest?”

He shakes his head. “You’ve already done too much for me, don’t worry. I’ll get a taxi.”

“In your condition?! No way. Why don’t you come home with me—my apartment is right across the street.” Your pulse starts racing. Did you just ask a stranger home? “Just to rest for awhile! Until you’re sure you won’t black out in the back seat of a cab.”

His razor-sharp cheeks flush with a tinge of pink. “That’s very kind, but… Really, this is normal for me.” He gives a carefree grin which is actually extremely tense.

“Then…” you ball your fists in determination, “will you go on a date with me?”

He stops cold. All he manages to make is a short, nonsensical string of vowels. You’re in shock at yourself, too. Your heart is pounding like crazy, but you’ve already gone this far.

“I mean, you said I’ve done too much for you, right? So, you can pay me back with a date!”

“Wha—” His entire face turns bright scarlet and his nonexistent eyebrows fly off his forehead. “Wha… but… uhhh. I. Um. What kind of date? (Is it really OK to ask for that kind of payment??)”

“I’ve got the latest Space Adventure movie and a bowl of microwave popcorn back at my apartment. I was going to watch it alone, but it would be more fun with company.”

His brow tents upward, and he gives a defeated whine, “You’re kind of devious, you know, miss!”

“What do you think about curry for dinner?”

His mop of hair falls over his face, and his shoulders begin to jerk. You can hear him laughing beneath it. Finally, he tosses his head back smiling—as his twin bangs fly upward, for a moment it reminds you of a certain hero. “OK, OK, I surrender!” he puts his hands up. “I’m clearly outmatched here. I’m Toshinori, by the way.”

 ****

After checking out of the store, you slowly limp your way home, practically carrying each other down the block. You offer him your arm for support. He insists on supporting you instead. You counter-insist. In the end, you wind up leaning against each other like a pair of drunks staggering home from the bar.

“So, you said you can ‘transfer injuries between people,’ not that you can transfer them to yourself. Does that mean you can transfer them back?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you should give it back to me right away!” he clenches his fist, and announces it with so much passion that passers-by stop to see if someone is being robbed. He softens his voice to a low rumble, and leans closer. “You shouldn’t be hurt on my account.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’d pass out again. You’re pretty thin but I still don’t wanna carry you.”

He mopes silently for a moment. You had him there. He bounces back from the sulk with academic curiosity. “Can you use your ability to transfer injuries to a third party, as an attack?”

“Yes, but…” You drop your gaze to the sidewalk. “I don’t ever want to use it that way.”

“Why not? It sounds like it would be a strong power for a hero.” Imagine how useful a quirk like that would be to pair with young Midoriya, healing him when he uses One For All at full strength, and simultaneously dealing out more damage to the bad guys.

“Are you kidding? Sucking wounds out of allies to use against an enemy? Their bones spontaneously snapping and shattering with a single touch? Their organs failing from an attack that never even hit them? Deciding who lives and who dies? It’s horrific.”

“Battle is always horrific, no matter how it’s done. But I understand what you mean.” He smiles. “It’s good that you don’t want to hurt people.”

“Besides, it only works through touch; I’d have a hard time grabbing onto a villain with my body broken.”

“That’s not the only way you could use it. If you honed your reflexes, you could reflect back the damage from a punch instantly. It would be like your opponent was punching themselves!” He excitedly throws a jab at the air with his free hand. “I’ve never heard of anyone with a quirk like that. You’re pretty special,” he adds with a smile.

A warmth blossoms in your chest. You’ve never been proud of your weird quirk, but the way he talked about it made you feel like maybe it was special. You never even thought about using it that way, and he came up with it in thirty seconds!

“Yeah, we could call you Mirror Girl, or Stop-Hitting-Yourself.”

“Well, I’m a little old to go after a hero license now, and naming things is clearly not your forte,” you stick out your tongue. “But thank you. What about you? Quirkless, right?”

“Something like that,” he answers nervously.

 ****

Your apartment is a small-but-cozy, slightly messy space at the top of a flight of stairs you would have described as “short” before having blood in your lungs. As soon as the door is open, Toshinori spots the couch and gratefully slumps onto it without hesitation, letting out a long sigh of relief. Remembering manners, he turns to you.

“Thank you… for everything, really. It was embarrassing to have to be rescued like that, but you were very brave, helping me even though you didn’t have to. You even thought of a way to get me to stop being so stubborn,” he laughs. “You were joking about the date, right? I promise I’ll take it easy and rest, you don’t have to pretend to be interested.”

Your skin grows hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything your face is doing. On the walk over you’d gotten comfortable leaning on him, and kind of forgot you asked out a random guy you just met like some kind of psycho! But…

“I wasn’t kidding. Unless you don’t want to—I mean—not to pressure you, th-that is… I was kidding about the ‘you owe me’ part! I was just trying to get you to not run off on your own in this condition.” Maybe you can just dig a hole in your living room floor and hide in it? “But… I would like to go on a date with you.”

He’s completely taken aback. “You really want to go out with someone like me? Who can’t even protect himself?”

“Sure. You’re kinda my type, actually.”

“Are you serious?!”

You laugh a little at how shocked he’s acting. “Come on, it’s like you’ve never been asked out before.”

“Not like this I haven’t!” He blurts, then claps a hand over his mouth like he spilled a secret.

“Like… this?”

He grumbles and drops his shoulders. “You must have sensed it when you were using your quirk on me anyway, so there’s no point hiding it. I wasn’t always this weak.” He pulls up his shirt and reveals a grizzly web of scars and inflamed tissue taking up half of his left side. “An accident damaged a lot of my organs and completely destroyed my stomach. I’m barely patched together with everything medicine and healing quirks can do. There was a time those guys wouldn’t have been a problem for me.”

“Oh, wow.” Without thinking, you’re beside him on the couch, and your hands are on his mangled flesh, studying it with fascination. He draws in a sharp breath between his teeth.

You quickly take your hands off him. “Does it hurt?”

“N-no, just…” His eyes dart away.

Gasping, your hands fly to your mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! That was completely inappropriate, I should have asked! You must think I’m some kind of—I’m so sorry!”

“It’s OK, you just surprised me. You can go ahead, if you really want to…”

You bite your lip. Having to consciously decide to touch his bare skin makes it so much more embarrassing. It’s way too forward, right? Then again, you both agreed it was a date…

Slowly, you examine his wounds with your fingertips. You could tell something was off about his internal organs when you were hunting for damage to absorb from him, but this is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Ridges of scars and sutures extend from his chest to his lower abdomen, and unlike an old wound that has properly healed, the tangled flesh is red and angry. There are a few fresh bruises blooming on his ribs from the kicks he took, which you have a matching set of, and some other recent injuries of mysterious origin. The most surprising thing is how muscular he is, considering his emaciated frame. He probably could have taken those guys in a fight, if not for the internal bleeding.

His breathing becomes rapid and shallow as you explore his body. Goosebumps raise on his skin everywhere that isn’t scar tissue. He swallows, hard.

“Aren’t you disgusted? I don’t usually show this off on the first date.”

“Not at all. I think it’s cool! Ah, I mean—ugh—sorry. It must be really painful for you, of course it’s not ‘cool,’ I just mean…” You hide your face in your hand with a groan. “I’m really messing this up, aren’t I?”

He chuckles softly at you. “I’m just glad you’re not freaked out. Most people react… differently.”

“Heh, well, honestly…” you peek out from between your fingers. “Frankenstein is my favorite book, so this look is actually really appealing.”

“Are you comparing me to the monster? That’s not a compliment!” he scolds theatrically, with a playful light in his eyes—before blood erupts from his mouth.

“Sorryyyyy!!!!” you laugh—before blood erupts from your mouth.

Tentatively, he reaches out, and rubs your back as you recover from coughing. His face was built to frown, and the deflated expression of regret etched deep into its sharp lines effortlessly slips back into place over the brief moment of levity.

“Did you absorb my respiratory damage? Those injuries are permanent, they’ll never heal— you have to give them back, right now.”

“Stop worrying so much. Chronic injuries are different; I’m not even sure if I can transfer them. Pretty sure it’s just inflammation that got aggravated from exerting yourself.”

His frown deepens. “You should still give it back.”

“I told you, don’t worry. It’s already feeling better. Anyway, if I did that, I’d be hurting you, and you know it’s illegal to hurt another person with a quirk.”

“…in that case, it was illegal to use your quirk in public in the first place…” he grumbles.

Quickly changing the subject, you point at the TV. “About that movie!”

 ****

Because of his total gastrectomy, Toshinori can’t eat anything too sweet, spicy, fibrous, or fatty, among a host of other things to avoid. Moreover, he can’t eat very much at once, so he has to be snacking constantly through the day.

Luckily, popcorn fits the bill, so you both sit on the couch with a big bowl of it between you, while laser weapons flash through space on the screen.

Halfway through the movie, he yawns sleepily, stretching his lanky arms over his head. As they come down, one of them lands awkwardly on the back of couch just behind your shoulder. Your head swivels. Your mouth hangs open. You stare at him, aghast.

“DID YOU JUST DO THE YAWN TRICK?”

“Uhh…” He stares stiffly forward at the TV screen, arm discreetly inching back up from whence it came.

“Seriously, this is a date. If you wanna cuddle, just go for it.” You move the popcorn bowl to the side, and snuggle into him under the offending arm. It is the world’s tensest cuddle, as you both question whether this is way too fast. But soon he relaxes, lowering his arm around you.

By the time the end credits roll, he’s laying with his head in your lap, half asleep, while you stroke his messy hair. “C-captain Wan…” you sniffle, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. Toshinori stirs.

“I don’t get it. What were those snake things about?”

“What?! Haven’t you seen any of the Star Adventure series?”

“It’s a series?”

You sit, sputtering, opening and closing your mouth again. He sits up as you explain that this is the latest movie in a really famous franchise that has been out for decades, spanning television and the big screen—you thought he knew that!

“Ohh. I’m not really into nerd stuff.”

Before you can vibrate into an antimatter weapon and explode with enough force to tear open the space-time continuum, he laughs “kidding, kidding!” and tells you he still had fun. Charming bastard. Good thing he’s cute.

Next time, you promise to show him the first movie. Or make it up to him with something he’s more interested in. And you’ll be sure to have more snack options on hand!

“Next time, huh?”

What does he mean by that? He was smiling but his eyes looked kinda stern, like he was teasing? It means he’s looking forward to it, right? Or is he saying it’s absurd? You did totally shanghai him into this and he didn’t even like the movie. “That is,” you start sweating nervously, “If you wanted a second date.”

He stares into the distance, squinting in thought. Not immediately reassuring.

“I should warn you, most days I don’t have any free time,” he says in a low, serious voice. “Today I got so far past my limit, I had no choice but to rest awhile… but I wouldn’t be able to see you very often. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Slow down there, Yugioh! I’m asking for a second date, not your hand in marriage,” you quip, flicking one of his floppy bangs. Your shoulders fall. “Oh. Wait. Unless you’re just being polite. You can be straight with me, I don’t pick up on hints very well.”

“No, I meant it!” He takes your hand and draws it close, interlacing his bony fingers with yours. You think he’s about to kiss it, but he just holds it to his chest like a precious possession. “This has been interesting. To know someone could still want me like this…” He rubs circles over the back of your hand with his thumb. The sensation sends shivers radiating through your arm, making your heart flutter and ache for more. “I just don’t want to make promises to you I can’t keep. My schedule doesn’t leave much downtime, but… the hospital is in this neighborhood, so I could visit you whenever I’m nearby. It isn’t as much as you deserve, but…”

“Second date. Not marriage. I just want to see you again sometime, and keep getting to know you.”

Maybe it’s just that you love his angular, skeletal figure, and his grim but friendly eyes. Maybe you just love taking care of wounded birds. But maybe it’s something deeper. There’s a fire within him that draws you in, and you just want to see where this goes.

A PHONE CALL IS HERE! A PHONE CALL IS HERE! A PHONE CALL IS HERE!

The moment is abruptly interrupted as Toshinori drops your hand to hastily pull out his phone, and fumbles to silence the ring. He’s so mortified he spits blood.

“Is that All Might’s voice?” you ask, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What? No, it’s just a novelty ringtone!”

“That is totally All Might! Oh my god, you’re…”—he winces—“a fanboy!”

He lets out a held breath, visibly relieved, then laughs boisterously. “You caught me, I love that pillar of justice!”

“Ugh, no!” you groan, head sinking into your hands. “I can’t believe you’re into that obnoxious meathead!”

“Haha… Wait, what?”

[taww]

Review: Furutech DSS-4.1 Speaker Cable & DPS-4.1 Power Cord

Furutech DSS-4.1 Speaker Cable & DPS-4.1 Power Cord

The Audiophile Weekend Warrior (TAWW)

TAWW Rating: 5 / 5

Attainable ultra-high-end performance.

PROS: Incredibly quiet, transparent and open-sounding; powerful and resolving frequency extremes; pure and organic midrange; fast and unfettered dynamics; remarkable sense of space.

CONS: Only sold in parts form, so you'll need to figure out termination; power cord can put some strain on jacks.

My first couple decades as an audiophile were relatively frugal. I bought a pair of used Merlin TSM speakers out of college that I used for 16 years. I rolled my own DIY speaker wire and bought $400 Sony and Onkyo CD players that I modified. My amplifier was a defective review sample that I repaired and got for pennies on the dollar. But after years of self-restraint, I started to slide down the slippery slopes of system upgrades. It started innocently enough with some used pieces... an Ayre integrated here, a Cambridge Audio streamer there... then came DAC upgrades, followed by nicer amplifiers, which naturally necessitated a better preamp. But things really took a turn for the crazy last year (I blame pandemic cabin fever) when speakers were upgraded to Audiovector SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté, which then led to the Gryphon Essence preamp and amp. Along the way I picked up the excellent Audience Au24 SX cables which, combined with Audience powerChord SEi's and a hodgepodge of other wire from Cardas, DH Labs and Mogami, have held me over. But with the system now scaling new heights of resolution and realism, the cable upgrade itch needed scratching... which leads us to the Furutech DSS-4.1 speaker cables ($395/m bulk; $3,138 as tested) and DPS-4.1 power cord ($480/m bulk; $1,458 as tested). While that might seem pricey for wire, they’re positioned to deliver the kind of ultra high-end performance associated with far more extravagant products. Could they deliver on that promise in the new TAWW reference rig?

DIY Ultra High-end??

Furutech is a Japanese cable and accessory manufacturer known for their fanatical attention to material and construction quality. Their AC power components are particularly acclaimed, and the distinctive NCF-series AC plugs and outlets can be found on the finished products of many other high-end marques. Similar to how manufacturers like Dynaudio used to sell raw drivers to other manufacturers while also building complete loudspeakers, Furutech seems perfectly content with anyone in the industry using their parts while they also sell finished products. The enterprising audiophile looking to construct or upgrade their own gear can find Furutech components readily available for purchase, though be warned - there are apparently a large number of knock-offs being peddled as genuine Furutech on eBay and other online marketplaces, so you'll want to stick to an authorized distributor. Fortunately for us in the States, we can turn to reputable online stores such as Music Direct, The Cable Company, Douglas Connection or any number of authorized dealers. The very friendly Scot Markwell of Elite A/V Distribution, Furutech's US distributor, provided the units under review here.

The DSS-4.1 speaker and DPS-4.1 and power cable represent the very highest-end Furutech wire you can buy in bulk - anything fancier requires factory termination. The two are effectively the same cable design, with the DPS version adding the requisite third conductor for grounding. I got a heads up to the remarkable properties of the power cord from my late friend Marty DeWulf a couple years back. Marty had been quietly consulting with an electrical engineer specializing in high-voltage power line transmission to construct his own power cords from scratch, and had reached a point where he felt his DIY concoctions outperformed the dozens of pricey high-end cords he had tried over the years. Marty sent me a number of development prototypes and I can attest that the cord was indeed superb and elevated the performance of most every amp I had at my disposal. Marty was feeling pretty happy with his effort until Scot @ Elite AV sent him some Furutech samples to try out, including the DPS-4.1. Sure enough, the DPS-4.1 performed at a different level from anything else Marty had tried before, including his own creations, and recalibrated his expectations for power cords - it was that good.

I later picked up the DPS-4.1 cable myself, along with the Furutech e-TP80 power distributor he praised, and confirmed their high level of performance. My appetite was whetted and I got in touch with Scot about kitting out the new reference rig with Furutech speaker and power wire throughout. This includes DPS-4.1 power cords on everything save the DAC, a GTO-D2R power distributor (review forthcoming) and DSS-4.1 speaker cables. All my samples were terminated with Furutech’s top-shelf rhodium-plated connectors - NCF plugs on the power cords, locking bananas and spades on the speaker cable. For the Gryphon Essence power amp, I had a 1.5m DPS-4.1 power cable made with 20A connectors. Since the Audiovector SR 6 speakers have tri-wire terminals, Scot also provided bare-wire jumpers made from the same PCOCC copper employed in the finished cables.

Using Furutech's PCOCC wire as tri-wire jumpers

Buying the Furutech parts and assembling the cables oneself can yield a considerable savings vs. finished cables, and most enterprising DIY'ers should be able to manage the job. However proper termination is critical to performance and safety, especially for the power cord, so if you're in any doubt, ask a dealer such as Douglas Connection to terminate them for you. Excluding any such labor, the retail cost of my 2.5m set of DSS-4.1 speaker cables with CF-202 bananas and FP-201 spades is $3,138. The 1.5m DPS-4.1 power cable with the FI-50/50M NCF plugs runs $1,458. High-end prices to be sure, but as you'll see below, I'd have no hesitation using these in systems that many would kit with far more costly wire.

The massive IEC connector is gorgeous and fits surely, but will put some stress on your jacks

Handling-wise, I'd call both on the lighter end of "garden hose," neither supple nor particularly stiff. At 19mm (0.75") thick for the speaker cable and 17mm (0.67") for the power cord, they're substantial but manageable. They'll bend easily enough into gentle curves, but the power cord will put strain on the chunky plugs if not given a good amount of clearance so don't expect to cram it into tight spaces. The speaker cable comes with an attractive woven sheath; the power cord has a purple PVC jacket, but my cables were clad in a silver Techflex sleeve for a more finished look. Both have 11AWG conductors which should allow for plenty of current flow in a typical run, and the speaker cable's capacitance is rated at 51.7pF/m (15.6pF/ft) @ 1kHz. This is an exceptionally low figure - for comparison, Kimber Kable 8TC is rated at 346pF/m, while Cardas Clear is a whopping 912pF/m - nearly 18x the Furutech! The tradeoff is a higher inductance of 0.7µH/m, but at typical lengths the effect of this should be benign.

Furutech DSS-4.1 Speaker Cable

Before we begin: since it’s impossible to say what any one component sounds like in isolation, I made most of my comparisons of the Furutech DSS-4.1 to my current reference cable, the excellent Audience Au24 SX ($3,300/2m pair). I also had Cardas Clear Light, DH Labs Q-10 Signature and a few other things on hand, but given that the Audience is the best of what I had available and is closest in price to the Furutech, most of my comments are relative to the Audience.

The best way I can describe the sound of the Furutech cable is "wide open." Compared to other cables I've had at my disposal, swapping in the Furutech sounds equivalent to the visual effect of renovating your living room from normal-sized windows to floor-to-ceiling glass. Suddenly everything feels more open, airy and illuminated. Notice that I didn't say "brighter - there’s a difference. The Furutech allows more sonic light to pass into your listening room, so when the music is brilliant and luminous, your room is suitably illuminated. But once the sun sets, that wall of glass becomes as pitch black as the night sky - and so the Furutech can be quiet and dark when called for.

In less fanciful terms, the Furutech gives the feeling of extremely wide bandwidth with no attenuation of energy or dynamics across the frequency spectrum, particularly at the extreme highs and lows. This helps it unlock more of the capability of my recent system upgrades - the top-to-bottom dynamics of the Audiovector speakers and ultra-wide-bandwidth of the Gryphon separates. In the lower frequencies the Furutech is a big step up in bass energy and resolution, transmitting more of a recording's energy and tone in the bottom three octaves. Note that this is different from having “big” or “warm” bass - similar to my illumination vs. brightness comment above, those denote colorations that constantly tilt the perceived spectral balance in a certain direction. There is no lower frequency hump or resonance here that could sound favorable on first listen but get a little monotonous in the long run. The Furutech simply allows what’s present in the signal to be transmitted more unimpeded than I have heard before in my system. This gives music tremendous “surprise” factor - it can go from ethereal to thunderous in a heartbeat. And this applies not just when used on the big Audiovectors; it's also a quality I heard on a scaled-back system with the Silverline SR17 Supreme 2-way monitors.

The top end has a similar level of transparency and dynamism, revealing all sorts of harmonics and textures as well as the air and ambience of the venue with striking transparency. Triangle, cymbals, trumpet, violin, and harpsichord are a few examples of instruments with complex high-frequency structure that sound exceptionally realistic via the DSS-4.1. At first, I felt the treble of the Furutech was a bit coarser vs. the Audience, which I have always found to be notably smooth and natural. I initially ascribed this to break-in, and gave the wire a couple hundred hours with a 4 ohm dummy load to try to burn it off. It improved, but it still had a bit of lingering grain. With time, two things became apparent: this cable takes a REALLY long time to break in - things kept getting smoother and smoother over the next couple hundred hours - and the Furutech simply refuses to cover anything up. Once I made the substantial upgrade to the Gryphon Essence combo I realized that grain was mostly endemic to my previous components, which were no slouches themselves - we’re talking all Class A discrete electronics from Pass Labs and Valvet. That just shows you the level of resolution the Furutech brings into play.

Once integrated into a system of even higher caliber, the Furutech sounded close to invisible, with great openness, clarity and detail from top to bottom and little discernible artifact. That said, at some points I did adjust the top end a bit by moving the Furutech's connection to the Audiovector speakers from the tweeter terminal to the midrange terminal. When connected to the tweeter terminal as per Audiovector recommendation (and my standard practice with other cables), things could get a hair bright, and some of the aforementioned coarseness would pop up now and again. Again, the Furutech was just telling it like it was, because later after further improvements to the system (a dedicated 20A power line, IsoAcoustics Gaia feet, breaking in the latest firmware on the PS Audio DAC), the top end sweetened and I was able to return the cables to the tweeter terminal for best transparency. In my system's current state, the Furutech brings out a top end that's wonderfully sweet, extended and natural.

A few other standout aspects bear mentioning. One is the sheer size of the soundstage, both in width and depth. I'm not sure exactly how components that have no effect on actual channel separation can affect the perceived width of the stage so much. Maybe it's a phase thing, maybe it's low level resolution that helps with ambient retrieval, maybe it's dynamic capability to bring out instruments that tend to be at the edges of the stage... whatever it is, the Furutech is able to convey a stage of substantial depth, width and dynamism. Another standout is the Furutech’s ability to convey dynamic contrasts. This is a quiet and fast cable that responds adroitly to the most minute changes in dynamic character, conveying both the undulations of a quiet melody and the surge of an orchestral climax with great color and intensity. Finally, the midrange is wonderfully dense, pure and harmonically complete, with great solidity in the lower range. Unlike many audiophile cables that provide lots of detail and speed at the expense of fullness or balance, the Furutech can better most comers in the "hifi" aspects while bringing out all the natural warmth of a great acoustic recording. Baritones, grand pianos, french horns and celli have never sounded better.

By comparison, the Audience Au24 SX is still a wonderful if more midrange-centric cable. Its slightly laid-back perspective and silkier treble are appealing for a variety of systems, particularly those on the forward side of neutral. There's a roundness and sweetness to the midrange, but at the expense of sounding a hair more congealed, bunching instruments together on a narrower stage. It also isn’t quite as responsive to quick and subtle dynamic contrasts, and the top end isn't as realistic and extended. Prior to hearing the Furutech the Audience was actually one of the best cables I had heard in many of these regards, so we're already talking about a very high level of performance here. And compared to something like the Cardas Clear Light, the Furutech was far more resolving while having a warmer, purer midrange and a sweeter treble.

The DSS-4.1 is an exceptionally transparent, balanced and complete speaker cable that can bring greater levels of realism and naturalness to a commensurate system. It delivers the type of detail and energy one would expect from an ultra high-end wire, but in an honest and unforced manner that draws one to the qualities of the source material and music without distraction. The net musical result is music has wider variation in color, texture, nuance and ultimately emotional impact - or as another reviewer put it, "expressiveness is their strong point."

Furutech DPS-4.1 Power Cord

Remarkably (or perhaps not?), virtually all the qualities that the DSS-4.1 exhibits as a speaker cable also shine through with the DPS-4.1 as a power cord. My longstanding reference is also an Audience cable - the moderately priced powerChord SE-i ($930/6 ft). It’s an incredibly consistent performer that imparts greater body, dynamics and life to most any component vs. a stock cord, not to mention a good number of aftermarket ones.

Compared to the Audience powerChord, again, the Furutech felt wide-open, more transparent and better balanced. The powerChord was a bit meatier in the mid bass and slightly sweeter on the top end - certainly more forgiving, but a little filtered compared to the Furutech. The Furutech also had a much wider and better-spaced soundstage; I won't say "twice as wide and 3x as deep" or anything with such false precision, but it certainly felt significantly bigger, with a lot more air between instruments and a stage that consistently spread beyond the width of the speakers. On pop mixes, this exhibited as stereo reverb and hard-panned effects that popped much more distinctly. Compared to the Audience and anything else I had on hand, the Furutech allowed whatever was plugged into it to transmit more recorded nuance with a sense of effortless transparency, particularly at the frequency extremes.

But like any cable regardless of quality, the Furutech wasn't the best match for everything I had on hand. I found the Audience cable more competitive with the PS Audio DAC; the Valvet A4 Mk.II monoblocks have a bit of upper midrange shine that was slightly prominent with the Furutech; and with the Class D Legacy i·v2 amplifier it was actually the very affordable Audience Forte that clicked better than the rest. But otherwise, the Furutech really shone with the majority of preamps and amps I tried, especially anything Pass Labs.

With the Gryphon Essence preamp, switching from the Furutech back to the Audience wasn’t a huge let-down by any means. And at first blush, the Audience sounded a bit more dense and focused than the Furutech, particularly in the lower midrange. But a few notes into Billie Eilish's "iomilo" [Qobuz] I realized what I was hearing as density was actually a bit of congestion, and the soundstage was quite a bit narrower than with the Furutech... everything sounded a bit more congealed around the center image of Eilish's voice. With the Furutech, the Gryphon preamp was able to eerily float effects around the entire space of the front of my living room, with percussion flourishes sprinkled throughout the track twinkling in ethereal fashion. With the Audience, everything lost some luster and became more confined between the speakers, and the frequency extremes lost some speed and impact. The DPS-4.1 cable really unleashed the wide-bandwidth capabilities of my system, maximizing both the epic bass depth, power and control of the Gryphon electronics as well as the purity and extension of the Audiovector's AMT tweeters. None of this is meant to beat up on the Audience, which costs about half as much as the Furutech and remains one of my favorite cords, but rather to elucidate how a cord like the Furutech can further elevate the performance of a system. At some point, I'll have to get around to trying Audience's latest models, such as the Studio ONE powerChord (closer in price) or the FrontRow (though that one costs 3x as much as the Furutech).

Testing the DPS-4.1 with the Gryphon Essence stereo amplifier was a bit trickier due to the need for a 20 amp IEC connector, so I special-ordered one for this purpose. Once set up, the Furutech rewarded me with incredible detail, an ultra-wide and deep soundstage that extended far beyond my walls, deep and impactful bass response and a heightened sense of purity - the "blackness" between the notes. Transients were immaculate, with perfectly clean attacks and decays - not excessively sharp, not softened, but just natural and energetic. This helped create the sense of greater macro and micro dynamic range; lots of subtle shadings and nuances in the music became clearer, while sudden transients were more explosive. There was a greater sense of both calm and energy with everything, where quiet moments felt finer and more delicate, while pops of energy in the performance burst forward with an effortless impact more akin to the live event. Separation, pitch, and articulation of bass notes were made more exceptional as well. It brought out the more rarefied capabilities of ultra high-end gear like the Gryphon - that ability to hear every element of a performance distinctively, yet perfectly integrated into the overall fabric of the music. All these qualities came to the fore listening to complex, dynamic material such as Strauss Don Juan [Qobuz]. I was struck by just how much clearer a window the Furutech gave into the dense, at times cacophonous orchestration, while making tranquil moments such as the idyllic oboe solo even more delicate and nuanced. The overall performance of the Gryphon + Furutech pairing was exceptional.

One combo where the Furutech power cord worked even better than the speaker cable was with the Pass Labs XA30.5 amplifier. With the DSS-4.1 speaker cable, there was a bit of a tradeoff where the enhanced resolution revealed some of the shortcomings of the amp vs. the more refined (and expensive) Gryphon Essence. However the DPS-4.1 power cord was dynamite with the Pass, helping maximize its dynamics and balance out its midrange warmth with bottom-end impact and top-end extension. The Pass Labs XP10 line stage also never sounded better than with the Furutech cord, with improved dynamics, soundstaging and clarity. The lack of noise and grain further strengthened the quietness, purity and sweetness that many find so endearing of Class A gear. The outstanding synergy with the Pass Labs components makes the Furutech DPS-4.1 cord about as no-brainer a recommendation as I can make for any Pass owner.

Conclusion

The Furutechs were remarkably consistent in their sonic impact. Both the speaker and power cables impart a wide-open feeling, with striking resolution at the frequency extremes, powerful low-end response, highly agile dynamics, super low noise floor and no readily-discernible coloration. They are extremely fast and clean without curtailing any sweetness or richness intrinsic to the music. Both cables are a tad more forward than my Audience reference wire, the Au24 SX speaker cable and powerChord SE-i power cord. There’s a hair more upper midrange energy and treble resolution that will require care with some systems, though it’s less prominent than, say, something with silver or silver-plated conductors such as DH Labs Q-10 or Nordost Valhalla. And the power cord in particular took the extension and resolving power of my system to a different level. They both strike me as reference-caliber cables, exacting enough to round out a tweaked-out $100k system, yet balanced enough to elevate something more modest, with plenty of headroom to grow into more ambitious gear. In particular, if you have a system with significant extension at the frequency extremes, they’ll help extract the most out of those capabilities. And as well as they work with my reference Gryphon separates, I absolutely love how they elevate Pass Labs gear, enhancing their intrinsic warmth and musicality with greater clarity, dynamics and precision. They'll be staying in the system for the long haul as a TAWW reference cable. Very highly recommended!

[frstbiitten]

cw: blood, violence

At what time had she arrived home the night before? She didn't feel sore in her head, maybe a little in her body, didn't know exactly what time it was, much less why she felt so exhausted. Heard the cell phone ringing from somewhere in the room, it was a loud and unnecessarily annoying noise, she waited a few seconds for it to stop. It stopped ringing for a moment, only to start ringing again. By the end she had no choice but to leave the mattress and go for the cell phone, inside of one of the pockets of her jeans, they were laying on the floor near the front door. The number belonged to no other than Violet.

"Violet, please, I swear I'm fine." Frost answered somewhat exasperated, her body still trying to shake off the sleepy feeling, again she wondered what time it was, noon? She came back somewhat tired last night, that explained it.

"Ah, Frost, hello, sorry, I thought you had woken up some time ago, did you get through your adventure alright at least?" Oh, she was referring to Jason, she still had the feeling of his lips saturating various areas of her body, places that might be somewhat embarrassing, she didn't know how to feel about that yet.

"Well...yeah...it was kind of interesting."

"Well, well, at least one of us got some action, but I'm calling you for something urgent: you see, since Jasper died, Kit has been distancing herself from me a lot, we've never gone this long without talking to each other, you know? And I'm worried, I've been following her and I haven't been able to call her, it's like her number's been blocked, so I need you to help me find her."

That put Frost in a very compromising place, she could either say no and go on with her day, or be gentle and less selfish and tell her she would help her find Kit.

"Yes, I understand your concern, I gather that if you've been following her, you know where she is."

"Yes, that's the problem, that's what I need you for, and I'm hoping you can help me with this, I've seen her getting out of fancy cars, accompanied by men who I can tell are not simply members of a criminal street gang, I mean she may be involved in something much more serious."

"And why are you so concerned about that, not that it's the closest thing to her previous work?"

Heard Violet let out a huff as she headed for the bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror, there was a very striking purple mark on her pale neck.

"You're missing my point, Kit was never like this with me, she's my friend and I'm worried I can't have contact with her, I'm sorry about Jasper's death but I'm sick of being alone, maybe I've started over again but I need her in my life still." It was something almost touching, Violet's voice seemed to break from moment to moment, maybe she was teary-eyed by that specific minute and was even choking back a sob as she spoke.

"Okay... I'll be waiting for you, literally, I have nothing else to do."

"Okay, then I'll see you in the evening."

"By the way, where have you seen Kit?" to Frost, this was a question of great importance.

"I don't know if you've been to Hollywood or Beverly Hills before, you know, places where you and I would be seen in the worst possible way, but I have a bad feeling about this." 

Frost had almost no memory of seeing those places before, she knew very well what they were but beyond that, she had never set foot in those places, Frost wouldn't know exactly what she would run into. Something inside her told her it wouldn't be a night like others.

"I understand... see you later."

***************

The best way to enter these places is not by walking but by car, in a cab to be precise, although the cost of the trip would be somewhat exorbitant, it was to be expected that it would not be a cheap visit at all. Both paid out of their pockets with what they had, Violet gave clear instructions as to where they would end their journey, at least a less suspicious distance from the club, but close enough to not walk too far. 

Maybe for Violet, this world was unfamiliar to her but it wasn't completely unfamiliar, for Frost this was new, the flashing neon lights, the bright signs, and the sound of a Saturday night in a city where it was more than obvious that someone like her couldn't fit in safely. Frost followed Violet closely, not wanting to get lost in all the hustle and bustle or she wouldn't know how to get back. Suddenly Violet stopped and held Frost's hand for a moment, she had spotted something near the club.

"See that car, the white one with tinted windows?" She didn't want to point it out so as not to raise any suspicion, they were close enough to notice who was arriving or who was leaving. "Look, that's Kit." They both watched as Kit stepped out of the luxury car, she had always been someone posh but now it was clear she had received more money these past few weeks than either of them. "I don't know why she's coming here, nor do I know how we could get in, maybe the back of the club I guess."

"Maybe, although there are probably bodyguards watching."

"But you know how to beat up people... I don't think it's going to be a big problem for you."

In response to Violet's advice, Frost simply sighed, so this was what she had brought her along for.

Well there was no turning back now, much less when she left two cameras and three bodyguards disabled, she decided not to kill them, that might make things worse for the two of them, and Violet had no combat skills, even if she was much taller than Frost. The unlucky guys ended up passed out on the ground, near a trash can, and with their communicators out of function, hands and feet wrapped in ice, maybe it would have some long term side effect, but it wasn't part of Frost's main concern, it wasn't her problem.

Through the back door they entered a dark corridor, from the ceiling appeared two rows on each side of LED lights that changed colors continuously, from there they could smell the aroma of the room perfumer, something fruity, but also the smell of cigarettes was present. They didn't have much time until someone would discover what they had done, they passed near the back section of the kitchen, they couldn't see it but they could hear it, it didn't take long for Frost's stomach to start growling, it was better not to pay attention to it.

"Where do you think it could be? This place is huge." The young woman heard noises coming from all corners, footsteps, laughter, glasses falling, whatever.

"I want to believe we're not too far away, but I don't know, I've never been inside this place." Violet was confused about it too, it seemed like they were never going to make it to the dance floor, let alone the stairs to the second floor.

At the end of the hallway there seemed to be nothing but a dark space, dark curtains hung from the ceiling and behind the metal door, the sound of music could be heard clearly. Frost walked towards the door, it appeared heavy but without the need to use a key to open it. Before even touching the lever, she felt a stabbing sensation in her shoulder, at first it didn't seem worrisome but the scream she heard was enough, whatever had pierced her shoulder now was only inserting it further into her muscles and something pushed her to the floor.

The object came out of her body and went in again, knowing full well that it would cut her back once more. But that didn't happen, she heard Violet struggle with the attacker and ask her to stop.

"Shit, Kit, you asshole stop! She didn't do anything to you for you to do this to her!"

"Because of her Jasper is dead! If we had never met her, she'd be alive!"

Hearing those last words, Frost did her best to pull herself up from the ground, noticing that blood was pouring down her shoulders and arms. They were deep cuts, deep enough that she had to take care of every move with extreme detail or the pain would start hitting her again. Kit was holding the knife with both hands while lying on the floor and Violet was trying to calm her down at the same time, it only took Frost a few seconds to remove the knife from Kit, pressing her chest with one of her feet and freezing her hands slightly.

"Wow, I guess that's how you greet everyone, do you know why we're here?" Frost was going to keep her foot on Kit's chest until she calmed down, Violet decided to let go of her arms just in case, worrying mostly for Frost now and her wounds.

"Why would that matter to me? You're not welcomed here, you're scum Frost!" Had never seen Kit act so aggressively, she even tried to hit her leg, but at her touch she felt the coldness of the young woman's skin.

"I've been trying to track you down, you weren't answering my calls and I got worried to the point of tracking you down, I had to come with Frost because I didn't know how dangerous this would be." But Violet was on the verge of running away now, this is not the Kit she knows, her words aren't true at all, perhaps coming alone without Frost would have been a better option, she risked her life after all without knowing. "Frost, are you okay?"

"I've been worse."

It was only there when Kit calmed down, Frost took her foot off her chest and decided to give the two friends a moment. This was of no concern to her, she only came to help Violet in case something more serious happened. She focused from moment to moment on their conversation, leaning against one of the walls in the dark, they talked about pacts and fears, Kit was recruited by a Russian mafia boss, she was a companion but also an informant, had her charms and skills that were useful for them and her mostly. At times she lost the thread of the conversation, keeping her attention on the knife soaked with her blood in her hands, her own blood, she felt the wound closing slowly although she could not ignore the intense pain in her back. She cleaned the blade by covering it with a layer of thin ice and removing it, leaving the shards to melt on the ground.

She felt like leaving them both alone, as they had a lot to talk about with each other and she didn't want to be in their way, it was clear that Kit didn't like the idea of her being there with Violet. Frost was a curious person and of course, the metal door caught her attention, heard music and people on the other side, she rested her hand on the lever and gently opened it, but the squeak caught the attention of the other two girls.

"If I were you I wouldn't let them see me, especially after what you did a few months ago." Kit decided to stop Frost before opening the door, placing her hand over hers, she didn't want her to leave for good reasons. "Look, it's a small world out there, and even if you, you insufferable snowball with anger issues, think you live tucked inside a bubble, believe me, your head already has a price on it, and more than likely someone or more than one person is looking for you, and for very good reasons."

"First of all, I don't have anger issues, got it? Okay, second; I know how to defend myself." And she was insistent besides, as she opened the door backward.

"Yeah, I saw how you defended yourself against me, if it wasn't for Violet, you'd already be getting torn to pieces in some machine and ending inside of a garbage bag."

Violet was already wearing herself out from this argument, pulling Kit away from Frost before they both started fighting again. 

"Kit... please...don't make the night any more difficult." She left her friend behind to accompany Frost who was already about to leave, as she was curious about it too, maybe she would never set foot in a place like this again. Kit only rolled her eyes, irritated almost, for her friend was not in favor of her decisions and now the girl she wanted to kill had her knife, she was going to ask for it later. There probably wouldn't be a "later".

The club was packed with people, the music was loud and they were pretty close to the bar. There were glasses in the shapes of crystals hanging from the ceiling in some areas, velvet-lined furniture and expensive drinks, well the two girls were in for a surprise if they were thirsty, most of it was out of their budget. It was entertaining for Kit to see Violet so amused, even walking while dancing, but Frost's presence was what she hadn't expected, though it was a good opportunity. She pulled out her cell phone, several contacts on it were there that night, and to all of them, she sent them the same message:

"She's here."

[rayless-reblogs]

the effect of The Caligula Effect

I just beat The Caligula Effect, a game I heard about years ago, but always understood to be a semi-bad Persona clone full of angsty-looking high school kids with superpowers. But I was eventually convinced to play The Caligula Effect: Overdose, an expanded rerelease that allows the gamer not only the opportunity to play alongside the Go-Home Club – a group of students who are searching for a way to escape the virtual utopia that entraps them – but also the chance to simultaneously join the Ostinato Musicians, another group of students who are determined to preserve the utopia and their idealized lives within it at all costs.

I'm a big fan of Persona, and this isn't the first clone I've played. Last year I tried out Falcom's Tokyo Xanadu. As far as I'm concerned, neither game approaches the quality of the latter three Personas, but in terms of visuals, gameplay, and story, Xanadu has Caligula pretty well beat.

I like Xanadu. But between the two, Caligula is the one I like more and care much more about.

Justifications below the cut. Also some extremely vague spoilers.

The Bad: The Caligula Effect has major shortcomings in many, many areas. For me, the battle system is clunky and bland (though if I raised the difficulty, I might find it more interesting). The character models are awkward. The environments are repetitive and the levels are too long. And as far as battles go, you are literally just fighting other students – no interesting monster designs anywhere. Those are a few points, but there are definitely more flaws that could be gone into.

But if you've followed me for a while, you know that the games that end up grabbing my attention aren't necessarily the most deserving. So here's what I like:

The 2D art is lovely. The characters have changeable portraits based on their emotions, as per Persona, but the menu features two full-length portraits for each character, Go-Home and Musicians alike. The elegant, silvery art style is gorgeous, and it's a shame it wasn't used more prominently and creatively, rather than the awkward 3D models. The main visual motif is flowers, and to that end each Go-Home member has unique (and highly symbolic) flowers associated with them. When they access their superpowers, each of them is shown with a stake driven through their heart, surrounded by their flowers – a striking and unusual effect. The desaturated colors in the characters' designs make their flowers stand out all the brighter.

And definitely check out each character's status screen because their portraits hint towards their true personalities.

Speaking of which –

Caligula mimics Persona's Social Link system (it doesn't use the term Social Link, but that's what I'll use here), allowing you to grow closer to your teammates on both sides of the ideological conflict. Not all of the Social Links are written equally well – some are more interesting than others – but a number of them are intertwined (even across both teams in the Overdose release) and become very engrossing as you try to figure out how events fit together. And who these people you're working alongside really are.

Like Persona, several of your teammates are motivated by personal trauma. As great as Persona 3 is, it can start to feel ludicrous how many of its characters have dead parents. (In fairness, their traumas aren't just that they have dead parents – but most of them have at least one dead parent and it gets old.) In Caligula, the traumas feel varied and more unexpected, touching on subjects I haven't often seen in JRPGs. For example, I guessed Mifue's trauma fairly early on, but was surprised at how seriously it was eventually depicted. I thought I figured out Ayana's quite quickly, only to have my theory pulled out from under me. Izuru's Social Link ended up shocking me at one point, then made me more thoughtful as I listened to him analyze himself. I've heard Kotono's arc wasn't universally liked in Japan, but I was really happy to see her specific backstory handled, even if it made her more complicated than a typical pretty girl in a high school game. And when it came to Shogo's, I immediately started to downplay the seriousness of his past – only to be proven quite wrong.

And it's not just the heavy stuff. Going through characters' Social Links (and talking to them on the game's texting feature) often changed how I felt about them. When I first met Suzuna, I was instantly fed up with her timid personality and thought I was going to hate her. She ended up being one of my favorites, the change not so much due to big story events but because of small details about her personality. I disliked Ayana and Naruko early on, but softened as I got to know them. This is especially noticeable with the Musicians. If you only encounter them as the Go-Home Club, they'll be rather flat, easily dismissed antagonists. Getting to know them on their own turf reveals characters who are often as fleshed out and interesting as the main cast. And again I was surprised at who I ended up really liking, like Sweet-P and Shonen-Doll.

Another, more subtle, thing I enjoyed – in different Persona games, a number of your teammates are very cool people. Eriko's mysterious and interested in the occult, Mitsuru's this unattainable school celebrity, Akihiko's a star boxer, Ann's a professional model, Yusuke's an artistic prodigy, Rise's a literal teen idol. There are certainly talented people among your teammates in The Caligula Effect, but for the most part, you're all nerds and losers. And that goes for the villains as well. Most of the characters aren't that socially impressive, either because of their personalities or they have very powerful reasons for turning away from the mainstream. And while many of them grow and change, they're not really wish-fulfillment characters.

One last thing I want to touch on – this virtual utopia our characters are struggling in is rather deceptive. Everyone within it takes on the role of a high schooler, but this doesn't always reflect who they are in reality, adding another layer of interest for me. Without going into specifics (because one of the most fun things for me was trying to figure out who people really were), a (vague) number of these characters are adults, not teenagers. And many of them are motivated by very adult concerns, such as dissatisfaction with their professions and questioning their positions in their adult lives. One of the main tensions of the game is whether it's better to direct yourself as an adult in the often-disappointing real world or whether it's better to remain a child free from responsibility in the virtual world. Despite all the game's high school trappings and tropes, I found myself wondering who the intended audience really was.

Caligula's main story is pretty flat and basic, much less sophisticated than the plots of the Personas or Tokyo Xanadu. But because of the characters and the multitude of B-Plots you go through with them, the game still has a compelling, and even adult, quality.

It's not a great game. I can't stress that enough. The first handful of hours are terrible. I think one reason I'm so into it is that I entered the game with very low expectations. But its characters have a lot to offer, and for me that ended up being the heart of the game. So I liked it.

[forgetmenotaftg]

It Gets Better

Dan wasn’t one to scream. It took a lot to faze her, to surprise her.

Still, she felt that she wouldn’t be completely alone if she screamed at this.

This being a kid standing in her kitchen, wielding a kitchen knife.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The boy asked.

Dan shook her head, confused, but she caught on. She responded, “I’m Dan. We’re at Palmetto State University.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Liar.”

She shook her head, but the boy’s eyes only squinted further. When Dan looked closer, she could see a purple shadow on the kid’s cheekbone. She held up her hands like she was trying to calm a wild animal, which this kid might as well have been.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

The boy paused, took a long, drawn out breath, and spoke. “My name is Andreas.”

Dan was surprised for a moment. She hadn’t expected the kid to respond. Dan studied the boy while he gave her a scrutinizing look. He had blue eyes, light enough to be blue, but dark enough that it was hard to see in the dim lighting.

His hair was a dark brown, but what troubled Dan the most were the bruises all over the child in varying colors.

Violet, yellow, green, red, each mark was of a different spectrum.

Like a rainbow made of pain, Dan thought.

It was hard to see in the dim, but as Dan’s sight adjusted, she could see that the bruises were everywhere. Up the boy’s collar, his arms, his legs, his face, they were covered in sickening shades.

But what troubled Dan the most was his hands.

There were fresh, dark marks, and tiny slices overlaying them.

It looked painful. It must have stung to even make a grip, but the injured hands holding the knife didn’t waver from their target. She didn’t even know what sorts of marks decorated the boy under his clothes.

And that was when Dan spotted a stain on his pant leg. It looked red.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine,” He said.

It struck Dan then, how similar that sounded to Neil. The boy said in the same way as Neil did, too, when he first came to Palmetto.

The boy’s tone said, I’m used to this, and I need to be fine.

It was then that the boy collapsed onto the cheap plastic and wood floor, knife clattered to the side, mouth open in a silent gasp of pain.

His eyes shuttered once, twice before closing.

Oh no.

>>

“What the hell are you talking about.”

“I don’t know! I just- there’s a kid in my dorm, he’s like twelve-ish, and his leg is stabbed. I do not know what to do. Just- just get here quick.”

The line clicked off.

Dan took a shaky breath, then clutched at her phone harder.

Down the hallway and through the first door on the left, lay a boy with bruises on every inch of skin, and a stab wound in his left leg.

On highway 62, Andrew Minyard was driving twenty miles over the speed limit to get to the Fox Tower.

In Fox Tower, Danielle Wilds was attempting to barricade the room where the boy lay with a dresser without making a sound.

In the first room in the left dwelled Nathaniel Wesninski. He was dreaming.

(It was a nightmare)

>>

“You stupid child, I have explained this to you seven times.”

Mary brought the ruler down on Andreas’ hand. He didn’t wince, though. He just erased the incorrect word and scribbled down the correct letters. But still, his mother wasn’t pleased.

“How are you going to fit into the sixth grade when you cannot even spell? If you do not learn quickly, your father will come. You know what happens then.”

Andreas ducked his head down and nodded. His hands ached with every movement of the pen, but he ignored it and jotted more words and pronunciations.

Eventually, through enough swats and cuts, Andreas stopped seeing his hands as his.

Instead, he imagined that his hands were petals. Delicate, soft, but still unwilling to tear. Marks upon marks appeared, but still, Andreas saw lined blossoms instead of injured hands.

>>

Andreas startled awake on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. He counted to ten in english, then in german in his head.

That was how long it took for Andreas to steady his breathing and compartmentalize his injuries.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room with Andreas, so he opened his eyes and sat up as quietly as he could.

His leg felt strange.

It seemed as though someone had bandaged it. Maybe his mother had done it. Probably not.

The wound wasn’t important enough to waste supplies on.

Andreas wasn’t important enough to waste supplies on.

>>

The door was unlocked.

It was unlocked, but it wouldn’t open.

The door was unlocked, but Andreas couldn’t get out.

Trapped. That was what Andreas was.

He’d tried pushing the door open, but something blocked the entire doorway. Somebody had heard him, too. Softened footsteps had sounded right after the groan and creak of his attempts.

Eventually, he’d given up on escaping. There was a window, but it was too high up and steep to climb down from.

But through the glass pane, Andreas could see cherry blossoms whirling around in the wind.

>>

Dan decided that the kid was Neil. It was too unlikely to be anyone else.

Neil had been in her dorm to avoid Andrew and Kevin’s argument, and Dan had gone out to buy some food. That was when she discovered the boy. He did look suspiciously like Neil, too.

But all of that reasoning didn’t explain why Neil was suddenly a child. There was no plausible reason for that, besides magic.

And magic didn’t exist, did it?

>>

Andreas woke up to the door opening.

It was almost silent, but he’d learned to wake up at any sound while sleeping. At the doorway, a blond man stood. He didn’t look surprised that Andreas had woken up.

He watched the man carefully, when he spoke two words that froze

Andreas’s very blood.

“Nathaniel Wesninski.”

The man continued, unfazed by Andreas’s shock.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” The man said.

Andreas let himself breathe shakily for a moment, then spoke in the calmest voice he could muster.

“That’s not my name, sir. I think you are confused.”

At that, the man seemed amused, as his brow twitched up and he looked disbelieving.

“Liar. You are Nathaniel Wesninski, and are pretending to be someone else.”

Andreas’s eyes darted back and forth, trying to find a way to escape this man, who clearly knew who he was.

He opened his mouth, and got ready to lie, lie, lie.

>>

Dan almost screamed when Andrew walked out of the room with the kid in tow.

“Hello.”

The boy’s voice was surprisingly smooth. It was high, too, still containing just a little trace of childhood in it.

“H-hi!”

“You’re Dan, right?”

Dan eagerly nodded, and the kid’s mouth tightened at the sight.

“And you’re Andreas?” She asked.

He nodded.

“Do you want some lunch?”

Another nod. Fake brown eyes angled at the ground.

“Then let’s go eat.”

>>

Andrew watched Neil- no, Andreas sit in the backseat of the maserati. Andreas didn’t sit like a normal twelve year old would. He didn’t swing his legs, or look out the window, or fidget.

He just stayed perfectly still. Like a statue. Andrew didn’t know why, but it bothered him. Maybe it was because the kid was what Neil had once been.

Andrew knew that at this point, Neil had already escaped Nathan with his mother. But there was still a minor stab wound in Andreas’s leg, and bruises all over. Andrew knew that Mary had been abusive to Neil, but he’d never pushed it, seeing as Neil still believed it was for the best.

Andrew had learned to accept that, but the new marks on Andreas’s hands and body brought up the old hatred he’d kept inside when Neil had first told him about Mary.

But Andreas wouldn’t want to hear about his dead mother, so Andrew ignored just how silent the boy was.

>>

Andreas was picking at his fries at McDonalds, when he looked up with his fake brown eyes, and asked, “Is my mother dead?”

Next to Andreas, Dan sucked in a panicked breath, and Andrew watched the kid with a calculating gaze. A normal person would probably say something about she was somewhere else, but there was no reason to lie.

“Yes.” Andrew said.

Dan’s hissed “Andrew!” was lost in Andreas’s quiet voice.

“How’d she die? Did my father die before her, or after?” He asked.

Andrew answered both questions unflinchingly, while Dan looked more and more panicked, probably scared that Andreas would cry or run. He did neither of those things, but Andrew saw him clench his fists under the table, and his mouth tremble.

The kid was good at hiding things, Andrew could give him that. A sob story that the rest of the foxes would probably fuss over. He knew that they would find out eventually, so when Andreas said he was done with the Happy Meal, despite not having eaten a bite of his burger, Andrew sped to the Fox Tower with Dan watching nervously in the backseat.

>>

The reactions of the Foxes was just what Andrew had expected. Nicky had been shocked at first, then started to coo over Andreas. Renee had watched from a distance, with Allison. Aaron hadn’t cared, and Kevin had almost immediately asked about the upcoming exy game, while Andreas looked extremely shocked at the sight of Kevin.

Matt had attempted to strike a conversation with Andreas, to no avail. And all throughout the whole ordeal, Andreas had looked very uncomfortable. When he’d requested to go the bathroom, he hadn’t come out, even after twenty minutes had passed.

Surprisingly, Renee was the one to knock on the door first. Her normally sweet voice was rougher, more real.

“Andreas? Are you still in there? It’s Renee. I know it’s a bit overwhelming, meeting us, but I promise, we won’t make you go out if you don’t want to,” she said. “I won’t lie. We all know what happened with your father, and I know it must be a shock, finding out that both your parents are dead in a day, but we all understand. The Foxes are a family of messed-up people, and you might find that some of us have more in common with you than you think.”

A moment passed, then Andrew could hear shuffling behind the locked door.

“I want to speak to Renee. Alone.” Andreas said, muffled.

Turning away, Andrew said, “Everybody get out.”

For once, the Foxes all listened, shuffling outside, undoubtedly to try to listen through the door.

At Renee’s meaningful glance, Andrew stepped outside as well.

>>

Renee knocked again, and said softly, “Andreas? Everybody’s out. I swear.”

A pause, and then the door came open.

Andreas came out, and Renee’s heart broke at how his shoulders curved in, how his battered hands clenched as he walked over the threshold.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Renee asked.

She watched Andreas breathe for a minute, before he spoke.

“I don’t know what to think. I woke up in a stranger’s bed, and apparently, my mom is dead, my father’s dead, there a bunch of people who apparently know my whole life’s events, and the craziest thing is- I’m supposed to be twenty.”

Renee was silent.

“Can you tell me what happened to your hands?” she asked.

Andreas immediately looked suspicious, and put his hands behind his back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Renee said.

And for a tense moment, he didn’t. Then Renee watched as he crumbled.

“I mess up sometimes. In German. Mom doesn’t like it when I do.”

Renee clenched her fists, but didn’t say anything, until Andreas looked up, and his scowl lessened.

“I’m glad he-I have all these friends. They seem okay. This life seems okay.” he murmured.

And Renee, dropping her nice-christian-girl face for a moment, answered back, “Trust me. It gets a lot better.”

>>

Neil Josten woke up in the dorm room of the Fox Tower, surrounded by his friends, his family, the reason it got so much better, and took the day off to watch the cherry blossoms fall, while Andrew sat with him.

Written by @alvarez-sara and posted here with permission.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #281

“is there a method to your madness, is it all about pride? ‘cuz everyone i know, they’ve got a demon inside.”

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? No, just a video game character and an animated movie girl when I had black hair. What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? Brown. Do you have a favorite day of the week? Tuesday because it’s reset day in WoW and as a mount farmer, that means I get to try my raids for the week again to continue to be denied. :’) Have you ever been in an art show? An art show, I don’t think so. I’ve had two or three things in an art museum, though. Would you consider yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I’m pretty split down the middle, I’d say. I’ve seen far more emotional pain than I think most young adults have, but at the same time, I’ve very under-exposed to adult experiences. How high is your pain tolerance? It depends on the type of pain. I can particularly say I do NOT handle stomach pains well, though. Have you ever played the game Halo? Nah, those weren’t my type. Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Only songs sung together for plays in elementary school. Never solo. Do you like your nose? … Sure? Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I don’t care. Would you ever like to be a stunt person? I’m fucking dumb, I read this and thought “you mean little people?” until I read the last person’s answer lmaooo. Anyway, no. I’m not ballsy enough for that shit. Are you a pyromaniac? I find fire pretty, but it still can scare me if I’m too close to it. Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? 110%, it’s literally what I’m doing now lmao. Can any of your friends sing very well? SARA. Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? No, no, no, no. I really don’t support pageants of any type I can think of, beauty in particular. What a way to scream “HEY THEY’RE BETTER THAN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, again, especially in beauty pageants. That fucks people up. What a way to start things like self-loathing, eating disorders, body dysphoria, etc. Do you have piano fingers? Mom has always told me that, “like Grammy.” Have you ever slept on a beach? YIKES, no. I ain’t fuckin’ with the tides going in and out or just a massive wave. I’d also feel WAY too vulnerable. Would you like to be taller? I’m cool with my current height. Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? I just like piercings in general. Have you ever been attacked by an animal? No, besides play getting too rough. Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? It’s easy to do that lol. The Notebook in particular will 100% make me tear up. What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? He’s an incredibly talented actor that I find very attractive, but I don’t know him as a person. Can you speak in different accents? Just British and southern. Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? My nephew, playfully of course. If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? THE ABSOLUTE WORST. What size shirt do you normally wear? Ugggghhh generally 2XL, I think. It can be one size smaller or one size larger depending on the shirt. Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? Yikes, no. Have you ever written a song? Just poems. Do you believe there is life on other planets? It’s possible, but I don’t particularly lean a certain way, I think. The universe is just… infinite, you know? But also the circumstances that life rose within Earth were so remarkably perfect to support it that I don’t entirely know if it’s been duplicated elsewhere. When was the last time you fell? Around two weeks ago? I have extremely low blood pressure naturally but also amplified by medications’ side effects, and I got out of bed too fast when I woke up. Hurt my knees pretty bad and barely missed my head hitting the couch. Do you have any sort of debt? I do NOT want to think about this. Is there a specific time period that interests you? The era of dinosaurs of course, as well as the Renaissance, just to name a couple. Do any of your friends own an expensive car? *shrugs* Have you ever been on a train? No. Have you ever been in a parade? No. Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? I know plenty. Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? No. Have you ever been in a musical? No. Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Yeah, Sara’s. Even though I’ve only been with them not that long of a time, they’re wonderful and made me feel so welcome. Do you ever have a fear of getting close to new people? Boy, do I!!!!! It’s funny though, because at the same time, I want to be close with people; I want to rush to the point I have a close friend. It’s weird. What is the worst things about work? N/A And the best? N/A Do you like to sleep in? Not really, honestly. I feel groggy and lazier than I naturally am lmao. Do you like to be an early bird? Well I’m in my best mood in the morning, but I don’t like waking up early. However, I’ve been planning a morning routine to adopt once we move that involves waking up at like 7 or so, so we’ll see how much I enjoy mornings then. But oh boy do I have a habit of saying I’ll do something and then not doing it, so… What is something you notice you just don't watch? History stuff and usually action. Last thing that bothered you even if just a little bit? Something Miss Tobey said to me a few days ago. Last thing that seemed a blessing from above? I don’t believe in supernatural “blessings,” but I’ll bite. The thing that made me happiest recently was uhhhh… I actually don’t know. Nothing that REALLY felt “blessing-ish.” Do you usually drink diet or regular soda? Regular; I can’t do diet. It tends to taste horrible but more importantly the artificial sweetener gives me a wicked headache. Are you on a diet? Not a diet, no. I’m more so just trying to make it a habit to simply eat better and not snack. Someone you highly respect who is not in your family? Sara’s dad. Did you say 'goodnight' to anyone last night? I don’t think I did. Does anyone ever comment on the appearance of your handwriting? People tend to point out it’s really nice. Have you looked at anyone's Facebook profile lately? Whose? Nah. Did you have a cake for your last birthday? What kind? Yeah, red velvet. Can you recall the first horror film you ever watched? How old were you? I actually don’t think I can. Maybe Paranormal Activity? Or The Blair Witch Project? When’s the last time that you mailed a letter or a package to someone, and who was it to? Sara’s bday gift I think. The last book that you checked out from the library? I haven’t done that in years. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman got neutered, and the only time I took Venus to the vet was when I first got her and she refused food for almost a year. Changed the tactic of warming the mouse up and she was more than happy to snag it. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at the pet store? The reptiles, because they’re closest and also my favorite section. Last medication or item that you picked out from the drugstore? Nicole picked up a bunch of my prescriptions that needed refilling. Do you usually have a big list or a small list when you go to the grocery store? I don’t do the shopping here, so it’s not my choice. How much was the last check you deposited? How about the last amount that you took out? I have no clue. Have you ever been admitted into the emergency room? For what? Being suicidal and then a suicide attempt. Have you ever been arrested before? Ridden in the back of a police car? No to the first, but yes to the second because that’s just how you’re transported from the ER to the psych hospital here. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? Thank God no. When did you graduate high school? 2014. How much gas can fit in your gas tank? N/A Does your vehicle break down a lot? N/A What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a sit-down restaurant? I want to say at LEAST 45 minutes once. Can’t remember why it was so busy, though. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? I’ve had cavities and braces, but thank Christ no root canals, and I’ve never had to have a tooth pulled by the dentist, either. Which art forms do you appreciate the most? Man, you can’t ask this to someone who enjoys art so deeply. Like I really don’t know what I enjoy *most*. Music can give me chills, poetry can be so rich and, well, poetic, and traditional artwork strikes awe and makes you wonder how they do it. I just adore art. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? To start, I have very mixed feelings about zoos, but I guess I am *mostly* in favor of humane, adequately providing captivity to a certain degree as this allows for conservation of especially endangered species, and zoos also make it easier to study and understand the silent voices of those we share the earth with. As well, they offer a safe environment to expose the fearful to all sorts of animals, and I feel it is very, very important for humans as the alpha species to care for and understand (as best our language barriers allow) our wonderful neighbors. That being said, I definitely believe that a lot of zoos under-provide for their animals, and this is horribly heartbreaking so that I absolutely disagree with their “right” to own and display animals, but for this specific question, I am going to use my state’s zoo as the standard here. Ashboro, imo is pretty damn great and generous to their animals (you should see the miles of land the elephants, bison, antelope, and rhinos have!), but the exhibit that comes to mind first when mentioning animals I’d like to set free iiiis… you know, I don’t know. I was going to say the polar bears since it can get STUPID hot here in the summer and their abode doesn’t have a great amount of ice that survives the sun, but at the same time I’d be very wary about returning a polar bear home for… obvious reasons. I say “I don’t know” because I’m not gonna pretend to know what ample space is for so many different kinds of animals. Damn, now I really wanna go there. Wow this was a long answer to a p simple question lmao. Favorite kind of fish? I don’t have a distinctly “favorite” fish, really. I don’t know enough of ‘em, but I can say I really like clownfish and angelfish. What kinds of museum artifacts fascinate you? Whew, as someone who took Art History just last year in school, ancient art pieces of all sorts! It is so, so fascinating, watching the evolution of art and to see how the urge to just create extends so, so far back into history. Have you ever gone to court before? For a disability case, yes. Also to convince a judge that I didn’t need to stay in a mental hospital for I think the original plan was around six months. What is the last song that you danced to? Ha ha I watching Hotel Transylvania with my niece and nephew and did the macarena with ‘em. What’s your favorite alcoholic drink? Margaritas or sangrias. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No. Are you more likely to fly in an airplane, or pick people up/drop them off at the airport? Historically, pick people up. Which sporting event would you be most likely to sit through? Dance competitions. Favorite flavor of ice cream? Cone or dish? Any sprinkles? My favorite Basic Bitch flavor is vanilla, just with chocolate syrup. Cone or dish just depends on what I’m feelin’, really. I hate sprinkles on anything; the texture throws me off. Have you ever cut your own hair? No. What do you eat most frequently? Uggghhhh some form of bread, probably. Are you a fan of video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to be. What's your favorite color combination? Idk really, I like a lot. I will say though that orange and black excites me bc Halloween Vibes. Did you share a locker at school? No. What's one sport you could never play? Wrestling, ew. Have you ever sung karaoke? Oh god no. What is the oldest age you think should wear makeup? lmao BRO tell me this a joke How old were you when you went on your first date? Idr, sometime in the 7th grade, if group dates in middle school even count? lol Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? Yeah. If so, who? An ex and probably doctors at some point? Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child? Sunday school, really. Have you purchased any cool objects from a foreign country? Considering I’ve never left the country, no. Are you on a laptop or a desktop computer right now? I only have a laptop. Do you remember anyone's number by heart? No, but I seriously need to memorize my mom’s. Do you live above, below, or on the Equator? Above. Do you know how to use Photoshop? I know how to do a decent number of things, but I’m definitely no expert. Where was your first job? I was a sales associate at GameStop. What's the best place you have ever eaten? Olive Garden is fucking fantastic, fite me about it. Do you own a hair straightener? No, I don’t need one. Are you barefoot right now? I always am at home unless it’s cold enough to need slippers. Are you subscribed to any magazine? Nah. Do you need AC right now? No; it’s actually pretty cold inside rn. Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name? It’s just a derivative of my first name; “Britt.” But I guess that classifies as a nickname. Name something you're proud of. Deciding to actually *try* to move on and making massive progress through it with That Person. Lately I’ve wondered if I truly have, though. My PTSD has been really bad of the late. Does any accent annoy you? I can’t say it “annoys” me, given you can’t really control your accent, but I do find it difficult to understand extremely southern accents, even as a local. Do you take vitamins? This just reminded me I’ve been out of my Vitamin D prescription for a while… oops. I’m supposed to take it for my legs. When was the last time you took aspirin or some other pain reliever? Yesterday, actually. I had a pretty bad headache. When was the last time you deeply regretted something? God, last night, I was remembering and accepting some things. Lemme just say I regret the everloving fuck out of the subject. What is something that you regularly wear that makes you stand out? Besides my lip ring, nothing in particular. Do you prefer small birthday parties or big ones? Small. I just don’t like big gatherings in general. What song are you listening to now? “Creatures X: To The Grave” by Motionless In White. What was the most traumatic experience of your life? The breakup w/ Jason. I’ve told the story enough in surveys and I don’t wanna recite it again. Who was your childhood best friend? Brianna. Are you still friends now? On Facebook, anyway, but we don’t talk. If not, why? We just drifted apart. What is one career you don't think you could do no matter how much it paid? Butcher. No fucking way. Have you ever edited Wikipedia? No. Have you ever edited any other wiki? Oh yeah; I’m an admin at the Silent Hill wiki and have invested hours upon hours upon hours helping out there for years. I’m also a content moderator at the Team Ico wiki, and I’ve also assisted a lot at the meerkats wiki because it is a fucking grammatical and formatting catastrophe. I think that’s it? Wait no, I did a few fixes on the Dragons of Atlantis wiki when it was still at the Kabam website, too. Is there a website [besides social networking] that you check almost daily? Yeah, a few. Do you get scared when you know some virus or sickness is being passed? I wouldn’t say I get scared, no. Just more aware and cautious. What’s the worst illness you’ve had? I’ve had a fucking wicked stomach virus before. (TMI alert?) I would not stop puking to the point it was agonizing to the point of tears because my muscles were so exhausted. Which do you prefer: M&M's, Skittles, or Reese's Pieces? BITCH can I choose all???? But in almost any chocolate-related case, I will choose a Reese’s product. Where on your body would you never get a tattoo? I don’t plan on getting a face tattoo, or at least a big one. Maybe something small and cute. OH YEAH EW absolutely never getting my sclera tattooed. That looks painful as a motherfucker. Honestly, have you ever stuck gum under a table or desk? No, that shit is disgusting. If your parents could read your thoughts, would you be in trouble? Not usually. Mom might be mad sometimes when I’m angry at her. Have you ever egged somebody's house or car? No, that’s childish as shit. My childhood house was egged once, so it pisses me off especially. Do you like licorice? UGH no, that shit is disgusting. Did anybody ever read bedtime stories to you when you were younger? My mom did. Which natural disaster do you find the most terrifying? Tornadoes or earthquakes. Do you have a favorite Johnny Depp movie? What is it? Alice in Wonderland. If I gave you a Yo-Yo right now, could you do any tricks? Nope.

[dickd0c]

STRIKE

CHAPTER FIVE — “my turn”

With the weather cleared up, Nic found herself at a protest the very next day.

The car ride was interesting, to say the least. She had fucked three out of four of the people, who were all talking amongst themselves but would smirk whenever they made eye contact with her.

Nic wondered, since they were such good friends, if they got together and talked about how she was in bed.

As they neared the protest, all four of them put their helmets on. Seeing them all suited up gave Nic an odd feeling. It was pretty hot, she had to admit, seeing them in their badass uniform. She did tend to be a sub, so something about a powerful get up gave her butterflies.

Nic's eyes looked over to Alpha, who was grumpy as ever. Logically speaking, since she had fucked three out of four of them, wouldn't he be next?

Nic shook her head. She was going to a protest for something more important than sex. Get your priorities straight.

The protest turned out to be peaceful, for once. The pigs were lined up as usual, pretending they were hurt by the insults some brave people spat in their faces. Nic was near the front, as usual, shouting "hands up, don't shoot!" with her palms up in the air.

She got distracted, however, when she saw a very tall man move in the corner of her eye. She turned her head and immediately knew that it was Tank. Who else towered at seven feet tall? Nic bit her lip, thinking about that night. She hadn't seen his dick, but she had felt it. And proportionately speaking, it must have been pretty damn long.

Snap out of it.

Nic watched Tank get in the officer's faces, smiling slightly as he pointed at them aggressively and no doubt spat out some pretty lethal insults. As he got closer to her, she could hear his words.

"Damn, you're pretty short," he sneered, using his hand to compare heights with a very average height officer. He moved on to mockingly salute the next, and then to invade the third's privacy by putting his face directly in front of him.

Specops. That's what Nic learned they liked to call themselves. All suited up, especially when as tall as Tank, Nic couldn't help but wonder how intimidated the cops must feel.

On the drive back, everyone was rather chatty, probably because the protest was going relatively well. Even Alpha chipped in a few sentences, though none in response to Nic. She had a feeling that he was just trying to ignore her existence.

You must be making that hard for him to do with all your moaning.

Nic smirked to herself. That would usually embarrass her, but Alpha was the only person in the apartment who hadn't heard her firsthand. He didn't seem to like her either, so if she was annoying him, she considered it a win.

Athena cleared her throat. "So, Nica," she started, making Nic smile at the new nickname. "Have you thought about it? Moving in? I know we'd all like to... get to know you better." She added that last bit rather suggestively, but Nic chose to pretend that the conversation they were having was a lot more normal.

"I have," Nic replies lightly. "I think I want to."

Alpha made a strangled noise, but everyone ignored him. Instead, they all started cheering as Tank wrapped his arm around her and gave her a side hug.

"Great, then you can get the fifth bedroom!"

Nic's jaw dropped. "Are you telling me there was a fifth bedroom this whole time?!"

Tank chuckled beside her, making her smile slightly despite her annoyance. "Yeah, but we use it as a storage room. We didn't want to clean it out for you if you were just staying for a day or two."

"Wow, thanks guys," Nic droned sarcastically, but she couldn't help giggling when the others (minus Alpha) all snickered.

It took a few hours, but soon enough, Nic had her own room. She brightened up looking around at it, even though the walls were bare and the bed sheets were extremely ugly. But at least her closet was full of clothes. The next step would be for her to get her phone, and maybe she could find a way to get the rest of her belongings sent to her.

After a late dinner of pasta, Nic found herself in her room, changing into her pajamas. She nearly blushed when she saw the pajamas that Athena had bought for her to wear. She picked one out carefully, one of the only ones that weren't see through. It was a gentle lilac color, made of silky material. She slipped the tank top on before sliding on the tiny matching shorts.

"Nic."

Startled, Nic turned to see Riot at her door. She flushed, vaguely aware of her nipples pointing at him even through the tank top.

"I think it's my turn." Riot closed the door to his room, standing in a powerful stance with those darkened eyes.

Fuck. Nic walked over slowly, stopping with her back to the wall. Riot turned so he was facing her. Nic watched the tan male ravage her body with his eyes, lingering at the lacy trim over her chest. He then stepped in, pressing his lips to hers. Nic was pleased to feel his kiss being gentle this time, his tongue  running over her lower lip before meeting hers in her mouth.

Nic places her hand on the top of his chest, dragging it down slowly so that she could feel all his abs. Her hands reached his sweatpants, where she didn't hesitate to undo the knot and slide her hand inside.

Over the cloth of his briefs, Nic began rubbing gently. Riot groaned softly against her mouth before pulling his head away to rest in the brook of her neck. He placed gentle kisses under her jaw as she kept rubbing his cock, feeling the member grow so large that the briefs must have been restraining it painfully. Nic gave a suddenly squeeze to his throbbing dick, making him hiss and bite her neck.

Riot's hands were suddenly on top of Nic's head, pushing her down. Normally, Nic couldn't stand a headpusher, but she would certain make an exception for Riot.

She knelt in front of him, her feet hitting the wall, and pulled his sweatpants down a few inches. She was met with his dick begging to be released from his briefs, so she did just that, bringing the briefs down just enough for Riot's massive dick to come out.

Nic's jaw dropped. There was no way she could fit all that in her mouth. She could hear Riot practically growl in impatience, but she took her time examining his cock before finally placing her lips on the tip. Her hand slowly pumping the length, she got to work swirling her tongue up around the tip and swallowing down his precum. Nic was going to make Riot wait for that orgasm.

Nic let herself put more of his cock in her mouth, peering up at him innocently to see his eyes flared up in anger—but in the sexiest way possible.

Next thing she knew, he had her hands pinned up against the wall with one of his. His other hand was cupped behind her head as he suddenly started thrusting into Nic's mouth.

Nic gagged as his large cock hit the back of his throat, but she didn't protest as she let him fuck her mouth. He was doing most of the work, leaving her to run her tongue over him and groan against him.

"Fuck," he whispered as threw his head back, tightening his grip on her wrists. "You like this, don't you?"

If Nic could speak, she probably would've said something like "yes, sir."

"You like it when I fuck your mouth, huh?"

Nic moaned in response, making Riot mutter more curses under his breath. He tangled his fingers with Nic's hair, pulling tightly as his last few strokes slowed down but stretched out. With one last thrust, he came inside of Nic's mouth and pulled out, panting.

Riot dropped Nic's hands and quickly put his briefs and sweats back on. Nic swallowed all the cum, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood up slowly. When she was standing, Riot was still in front of her, his hands on either side of her head. His eyes were closed as he was still trying to catch his breath.

Nic gave him a quick kiss, pushing her chest up against his, before pulling away and ducking under his arms to sit on her bed.

Riot turned to her, gave her a tired wink, before turning to the door and twisting it open. Both he and Nic were caught by surprise to see Tank leaning against the doorframe with that bold smirk on his face.

"My turn," he said in an oddly low voice, walking past Riot and over to Nic.

Nic, her mouth tired from pleasuring Riot, almost wanted to say no until she saw the dangerous look in Tank's eyes. That night they had sex, he had been fairly vanilla. But right now, just seeing his dark blue eyes ravage her body and his tongue lick his smirking lips, Nic decides that her mouth could definitely go for round two.

Riot had found a place leaning against the wall, watching the other two interact.

Somewhat shakily, Nic stood up, nearly chest to chest with Tank. With a finger to his chest, she slowly backed him up to the wall, pushing him firmly against it. Tank locked his lips, clearly ready.

Lowering herself onto her knees, Nic realized she'd have to hold herself a little higher to reach Tank's cock. She smiled to herself as she pulled his shirts down with his underwear, revealing his already hard dick. The girl looked up, brown eyes meeting blue. She made sure not to break eye contact for even a second as she slowly pumped his cock up and down, feeling the already large cock grow into something massive.

Taking a deep breath, Nic wrapped mouth around as much cock she could handle at first, her hands pumping the rest. Her tongue swirled around the tip as she moved her head up and down on his cock, listening to his mains fill the room. She couldn't see him, but she tried to imagine the look on Riot's face in that moment.

As Nic took more of Tank's cock into her mouth, she sped up her pace, resisting the urge to gag. Soon enough, he filled the back of her throat with cum.

Swallowing, Nic lifted herself up to her feet, seeing Tank's eyes still closed in bliss and Riot's mouth agape. She smirked as Tank closed the space between them, rubbing his hands all over the side of her body as he covered her lips in a kiss. A few moments passed before she felt another muscular body press up against her from behind, placing biting kisses all over her neck and shoulders.

Nic smiled in between a kiss, imagining what her life would be like living in that apartment. She couldn't help but to thank the heavens for birth control.