#star citizen reviews

[archivyrep]

Archivists on the Issues: Fictional Archivists Out in the Open [Part 1]

Archivists on the Issues is a forum for archivists to discuss the issues we are facing today. Today’s post comes from Burkely Hermann (me), Metadata Librarian for the National Security Archive and current I&A Blog Coordinator. There will be spoilers for each of the books, animated series, films, and other media he will be discussing. It was published there on March 8, 2023 and will be published on my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog in late September.

Eight archivists-of-sorts in fiction. Top row, from left to right: Archie the Archivist (Regular Show), Jocasta Nu (Star Wars), Sunati (Always Human), Russ (Be Cool, Scooby Doo!). Bottom row from left to right: Unnamed archivist / records clerk (My Dictator Boyfriend), Atropos (Lore Olympus), Clotho (Lore Olympus), and Clark (Joker)

In January 2018, Cate Peebles wrote about examples of archives in popular culture, specifically in true crime documentaries. In her post, on this blog, she argued that archivists are missing in "moments of recognition" and said that representations of actual archivists are "few and far between". She concluded that no popular image of an archivist exists, but that archivists are "more present than ever" even if unseen, adding that "without records and their keepers, there are no stories to tell." In this article, I'd like to highlight some examples of fictional archivists that I've come across through the years, especially since starting my WordPress blog on the subject.

For one, there are some characters who who merge characters of archivists and librarians. This includes a reference librarian who manages a Yale University Library room which combines elements of archives and libraries into one institution in Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) and a character who is almost an archivist, named Archie the Archivist (voiced by John Cygan) in Regular Show. In the latter case, Archie works in a library and becomes a guardian to protect analog data, which could have some parallels to archivists as keepers of information.

Similarly, there's Madame Jocasta Nu in Star Wars, specifically in Attack of the Clones and the Star Wars: The Clone Wars animated series. She is played by Alethea McGrath in the film and voiced by Flo Di Re in the animated series. Madame Nu is described as a librarian and archivist, but seems to manage a library-archives hybrid known as the Jedi Archives, within the Jedi Temple. She is best-known for declaring, in Attack of the Clones, that "if an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist," an arrogant and untrue statement which ignores reality of archives as memory institutions and their role in society. Madame Nu differs fundamentally from the unnamed librarian in the dark, haunting Thatcher Memorial Library shown in a scene of Citizen Kane (1941). The librarian in the latter has been described as one of the world’s meanest archivists. Played by Georgia Backus, she has her hair tied up in a bun and has "an intimidating stare on her face", acting as a "real dragon lady at the gates of knowledge." This is not the type of archives you want to go to! It is not the image which should be projected.

There are various archivists, of sorts, in other media. For instance, in the webcomic, Always Human, Rae, a friend of the protagonist, Sunati, dreams of becoming an archivist and fulfills this dream during the run of the comic. More directly, an episode of Be Cool, Scooby-Doo!, entitled "Silver Scream", features Russ, a young film archivist who works in a film archive room and is a bit eccentric. Other archivists appear in issues of the popular webcomic Lore Olympus in 1980s style dress, helping characters who request records about their past memories, or in the webcomic My Dictator Boyfriend. In the latter case, the archivist/records clerk is manipulated to write a birth form for the ruler's wife, Anna, even though the son isn't even born! [1]

There are other prominent depictions. For one, there is a records clerk, named Clark (played by by Brian Tyree Henry), who brings out a medical hospital record for Arthur Fleck in Joker (2019). However, Fleck, who later becomes the Joker, steals the record from the clerk because he hasn't filled out the appropriate paperwork to take the file with him. Then there's the well-known depiction of a classy archivist named Abigail Chase (played by Diane Kruger) who appears in National Treasure (2004) and National Treasure: Book of Secrets (2007). It is a depiction which has been oft discussed by archivists. Archivists also make an appearance in former webcomics like Power Ballad, and currently running ones like Brimstone and Roses.

There are many more examples, like supposed newspaper archivist (and former newspaper reporter) in the animated series, Stretch Armstrong, who has a newspaper archives in his basement. He declares in one episode, "some say I’m packrat, archivist I say!" Even The Simpsons has a character who runs the Springfield Historical Society, in the episode "Lisa the Iconoclast" which could be called an archivist. Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure, otherwise known as Tangled: The Series, features, along with other archivy themes, a keeper of a museum, known as The Spire, named Calliope (voiced by Natalie Palamides). She is a scholar who does magic tricks and has a messy library. Most recently, a character named Arizal (voiced by Christine Marine Cabanos) is the protagonist of Recorded by Arizal. She puts together vlogs explaining why she wants to be a record keeper, often another name for an archivist.

© 2022-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Continued in part 2

Notes

[1] Hermann, Burkely. "Libraries, records, and Kore: Archives on Mount Olympus." Wading Through the Cultural Stacks, Nov. 28, 2020; Hermann, Burkely. "Popular culture and the duties of archivists." Wading Through the Cultural Stacks, Feb. 27, 2021; Hermann, Burkely. "Evil Anna and How I Learned to Love Archival Manipulation." Wading Through the Cultural Stacks, Apr. 3, 2021.

[beastgamerkuma]

Beast Early Access Review of Spacebourne 2

[batboyblog]

What Joe Biden has Done for LGBTQ+ People

I wanted to list out everything The Biden Administration has done for Queer people in the last 3 and a half years, but according to GLAAD it'd been 337 moves (and I noticed they missed a few things...) there was just no way to list every ground breaking first Queer person ever nominated to fill this or that job, every ally with a historic LGBT rights record nominated for a top job, every beautiful statement of support, every time he tried to get Congress to pass the Equality Act (support it!) So I've gone through and done my best to pick the ones I think were the most important, but everyone should check out the full list!

Day 1: Signs executive orders banning discrimination and ordering a full review of all federal agencies policies to better include and support LGBT people

Pete Buttigieg becomes the first openly gay person nominated and confirmed for a cabinet level post as Secretary of Transportation

Revokes Trump’s 2018 ban on transgender military personnel

Department of Housing and Urban Development implements LGBTQ protections in housing, becoming first federal agency to implement Pres. Biden’s executive order

First President to recognize and proclaim Trans Day of Visibility

Department of Justice Civil Rights Division issues an official memo that the Supreme Court's Bostock decision against LGBT workplace discrimination also applies to education through Title IX

HUD withdraws a Trump Administration proposed rule change, and reaffirms trans people's rights to seek shelters matching their gender identity

HHS announces the withdrawal of Trump Administration rules that allowed discrimination by healthcare organizations against LGBT people.

The State Department and later Homeland Security announce babies born to Queer couples overseas will be American citizens if one parent is American, in the past the child only qualified if they were genetically related to the American citizen parent.

The Justice Department files against a West Virginia law banning trans students from school athletics

Department of Veterans Affairs announces it will offer gender confirming surgery for transgender veterans. There are an estimated 134,000 transgender veterans in the U.S. and another 15,000 transgender people serving in the armed forces.

President Biden Signs a law making the Pulse Night Club a national memorial

The State Department creates an X gender marker for passports and other documents, allowing gender affirming identification for non-binary and intersex people for the first time.

The Census Bureau for the first time issues a Survey with questions about sexual orientation and gender identity

On the 10th anniversary of the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, Veterans Administration announces that soldiers discharged for homosexual conduct, gender identity or HIV status qualify for veterans' benefits

Dr. Rachel Levine becomes the first trans person confirmed by the US Senate when she was nominated to be Assistant Secretary for Health, she also became the first trans flag rank officer when she was sworn in as a 4 star Admiral for her job as head of the Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, his makes her the highest ranked trans person in government

Holds the first ever vigil in the White House for Transgender Day of Remembrance

HHS announces rule change to reinstate and expand protections against discrimination in the Affordable Care Act, including denying coverage for gender-affirming care.

Social Security Administration reverses a Trump Administration policy and allows benefits claims by surviving partners in same-sex relationships, whose partner died before marriage equality was legal

President Biden signs the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act (a bill he helped originally craft in the Senate) which for the first time has grant programs dedicated to expanding and developing initiatives specifically for LGBTQ survivors of domestic violence

The TSA announces new technology and policy shifts to improve the customer experience of transgender travelers who have previously been required to undergo additional screening due to alarms in sensitive areas.

The Social Security Administration allows people to edit their gender and name on records for the first time without legal and medical documentation

The US Air Force announces it'll offer medical and legal aid to any personnel families affected by state level anti-trans youth bills.

Karine Jean-Pierre becomes the first Lesbian to serve as White House Press Secretary

on 50th anniversary of Title IX The Department of Ed strengthens protections for Students against sexual harassment and discrimination

Veterans Affairs announces survivor benefits now extended to partners from relationships before marriage equality was legalized in 2015

President Biden signs the Respect for Marriage Act into law enshrining protections for marriage equality for same-sex and interracial couples

The Department of Ed announces new rules around athletic eligibility under Title IX, declaring blanket bans on trans students violate the law and setting up strike standards for schools

The White House announced a suit of new protections for LGBTQ people, including a new job at the Department of Ed to combat book bans, a joint DoJ Homeland Security effort to combat violence and threats and HHS evidence-based guidance to mental health providers for care of transgender kids

President Biden signs an Executive Order directing HHS to protect LGBTQI+ youth in the foster care system, a rule they later passed requiring Queer foster children to be placed in affirming homes

The Biden administration joins families of transgender youth in Tennessee and Kentucky in petitioning the U.S. Supreme Court to review and reverse a circuit court ruling allowing a ban on mainstream health care to be enforced

President Biden Signs a EO expanding on past EO on equality and helping underserved communities

The Department of Education's Civil Rights office opens an investigation into the death of Nex Benedict. President Biden in his statement said: "Every young person deserves to have the fundamental right and freedom to be who they are, and feel safe and supported at school and in their communities. Nex Benedict, a kid who just wanted to be accepted, should still be here with us today. Nonbinary and transgender people are some of the bravest Americans I know. But nobody should have to be brave just to be themselves. In memory of Nex, we must all recommit to our work to end discrimination and address the suicide crisis impacting too many nonbinary and transgender children.”

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films. 

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down. 

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since. 

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job. 

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before. 

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face. 

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air. 

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow. 

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left. 

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again. 

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films. 

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!” 

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously. 

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him. 

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly. 

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence. 

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant. 

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open. 

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies. 

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies. 

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it. 

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again. 

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them. 

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant. 

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door. 

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What  -- the hell are you doing here?” 

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time. 

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity. 

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work. 

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.” 

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more. 

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you. 

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you. 

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him. 

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim. 

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive. 

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply. 

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off. 

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch. 

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants. 

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas. 

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy. 

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him. 

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on. 

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing. 

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day. 

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?” 

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh. 

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck. 

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started— 

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.” 

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register. 

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time. 

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass. 

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer. 

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him. 

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth. 

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled. 

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you. 

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching. 

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch. 

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“ 

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin. 

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release. 

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him. 

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.” 

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you. 

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust. 

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch. 

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips. 

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin. 

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings. 

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail. 

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl. 

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole. 

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better. 

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing. 

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.” 

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly. 

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you. 

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you. 

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit. 

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet. 

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter. 

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too. 

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go. 

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed. 

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again. 

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable. 

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole. 

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately. 

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously. 

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you. 

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex. 

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…” 

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right. 

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly. 

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice. 

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length. 

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.” 

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Representation

Oh, so NOW child abuse is bad. Could have fooled me last episode!

Let's get into the twenty-fifth episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Representation

We start off with an English news report recapping the ending of “Revolution”, stating that Ms. Bustier is going to run for mayor, conveniently ignoring her attempted coup in “Collusion”. We also see that Gabriel and Tomoe are still uncomfortably focused on making Adrien and Kagami appear to be a couple in public, much to their dismay. While Kagami is visited by Argos (who once again sneaks up on her, like he usually does), Adrien realizes he can transform into his space form and see Marinette whenever he wants and transforms into Cat Noir, planning to reveal his identity to Marinette. Hey, did he even tell Ladybug about his sudden departure? Because it didn't go well the last time he left Paris without telling her (New York Special).

We then cut to Marinette right after the events of “Revolution”, going to the end of the year dance... even though when we saw Adrien and Kagami in London, the sun was still setting, and France's time zone is only about an hour later, meaning Adrien and Kagami must have flown there at ludicrous speed.

Meanwile, Argos and Kagami somehow got from London to Paris offscreen, and watch Marinette from afar, with Kagami revealing she knows she's Ladybug. They decide to tell Marinette that Felix knows who Monarch is in order to ensure his downfall. Nah, I'm just kidding. Here's the real reason they're coming to Marinette for help.

Kagami: My mother and Gabriel Agreste will never allow us to love each other freely. Only Ladybug can help us.

Yep, rather than prioritize the fact that Gabriel is endangering the citizens of Paris on a daily basis, Kagami is seriously more concerned about her relationship with her boyfriend being tampered with. This is like saying Lex Luthor is evil because he cheats on his taxes. Argos transforms back into Felix, and... oh, for the love of God... he disguises himself as Adrien in order to get closer to Marinette. You can't keep portraying Felix as this master of disguise if he only has ONE disguise!

Marinette sees “Adrien” and assumes he came back from London from her, assuming her boyfriend is much more active that the writers actually believe he is, so she tries to follow him while avoiding the guests at the party. Meanwhile, Gabriel and Tomoe learn their children are gone, so he goes to talk with Nathalie and—why the hell is she like that?

Seriously, this has never been established as something that happens when someone uses the broken Peacock Miraculous. Why didn't this happen to Emilie? She looks pretty healthy in her little coffin, and I doubt Gabriel is an embalmer.

Anyway, after Nathalie once again reminds us that she hates Gabriel, but not enough to call the cops on him, Gabriel transforms into Monarch and immediately detransforms back in order to akumatize himself into Nightormentor.

Nightormentor is a pretty average recolor of the Collector's design, which kind of makes sense, considering that Gabriel himself intended the Akuma for himself. The star pattern is okay, but there's not much I can really say. As for his powers, he's just another Sandboy, being able to force people to hallucinate their worse nightmares, only instead of a pillow, his weapon is a staff created from a pen containing the Akuma, with the Horse Miraculous' Voyage to boot. Why he didn't just give himself the same powers he gave Truth when he's trying to find Adrien is anyone's guess.

Cat Noir arrives at the Eiffel Tower to talk with Marinette, just as Nightormentor appears. The two fight, and after a few civilians get caught in the crossfire, Nightormentor escapes through Voyage. As Cat Noir heads to the Dupain-Cheng bakery at the advising of Max, Alya and Nino decide that the totally not useless Resistance should get involved.

While Marinette gives chase, Felix leads her into the school's art classroom, where he transforms into Argos and creates a Sentimonster using Kagami's ring. Felix and Kagami use the Sentimonster's power to do... uh... whatever the hell this is.

Yeah, this is basically a flashback, but the animators probably blew their budget needed for the new models on Ms. Bustier's baby bump, so we're getting this instead, thanks to the Sentimonster Argos created. There are several scenes of Cat Noir and Nightormentor interspersed, but like what I did with Marinette's flashback in “Derision”, I'll give you the summary before I talk about my problems with this.

When Adrien's mother and aunt, Emilie and Amelie, were born, Emilie (who was born seven seconds early) was trusted with the family heirlooms, the two rings we first saw all the way back in “Felix”. Even though this meant she would inherit the family name, Emilie didn't really like doing... whatever the Graham de Vanily family wanted her to do, but Amelie did. Eventually, while studying abroad, Emilie met Gabriel, and the two fell in love. Before marrying Gabriel, Emilie gave up her role as the sole inheritor of the Graham de Vanily family's vague legacy, while Amelie married a man named Colt to please her parents. Both couples wanted children, but it's heavily implied that Emilie and Amelie were infertile, so their wishes weren't able to come true. Emilie finally managed to get a bun in the oven thanks to the Peacock Miraculous, but this made Colt jealous that he couldn't have a child. Out of the goodness of her heart, Emilie asked Gabriel to give the Peacock Miraculous to Colt, in exchange for letting the Gorilla guard Adrien in the future. Using his own jealousy as a source of power, Colt got Amelie pregnant, though at the cost of his health. Colt figured this was the price he had to pay for using “sorcery”, and used this as an excuse to treat Felix like a monster and ordered him around using the ring containing his Amok. Felix himself was unaware that he wasn't human until Colt accidentally broke the ring (which wasn't one of the two wedding rings used to control Adrien and was an entirely different ring containing Felix's Amok), which he stole as soon as Colt died. This is meant to explain why Felix decided to steal back the Peacock Miraculous, in order to save his life. Felix later met Kagami, and the two explain that they need “Someone like Ladybug” to help them.

Now if your only information about this episode is through my summary, it seems simple enough. For everyone else who actually saw this sequence in the episode itself, I'm guessing your thoughts were about the same as mine.

Let's go over every problem I have with this scene, starting with...

#1: The Way Kagami and Felix Explain This

Let me just ask something: Why can't Felix just talk to Marinette about what he knows since he now knows she's Ladybug instead of telling her everything through this weird play? You can still tell Marinette all of this without your two-man show. In fact, why did Felix have to wait until he knew Marinette was Ladybug instead of just talking to her the next time he saw her? Yeah, you could argue it's easier this way, but like I've been saying since Season 4, Felix has had no excuse to wait this long to tell Ladybug about the fact that he knows who her greatest enemy is.

And why the hell is it presented this way? Why does Felix have to recontextualize the story of his family's history in the form of a play? Why turn it into a stereotypical fairy tale that leaves out the names of all the important people, like Emilie, Amelie, Colt (whose name I only learned through the transcript of this episode), and Gabriel? If it was like a hidden message Felix and Kagami wanted to convey to Marinette, that would make sense, but why do they have to be so cryptic when they're only putting this show on for one person? You could easily avoid a good chunk of the questions this raises if this was a show Felix and Kagami put on for the public that Marinette was able to learn the information from. Yeah, it still wouldn't explain why Felix can't just tell Marinette about who Gabriel really is, but at least it's something.

The way it all happens kind of reminds me of this scene from this old Halloween special I saw a lot as a kid, Scary Godmother: Halloween Spooktacular. In that scene, some of the kids act out a scene of this little girl's parents entrusting her with a flashlight to explain why she carries it around, in order to scare off any monsters she runs into, using the graveyard they were in as a makeshift set. This scene works a lot more because it's done in more of a tongue-in-cheek way, with some of the kids breaking character to boost their own egos (for example, the kid playing the mom comments about how responsible she is), and how one kid in particular gradually gets fed up with the whole thing. The scene does its job at delivering exposition in a way that isn't meant to be taken too seriously, and it's clear this is being done by some kids goofing around in-universe.

With this episode, it's clear that the writers want the audience to take this whole backstory seriously in spite of how absurd it all is. Seriously look at this.

We are seriously expected to take this backstory seriously when it looks like some theater major's midterm project. The animators want it to look artsy and unique for the sake of making it look artsy and unique. Why does it look like a play these two put together themselves if they're supposedly using a Sentimonster's power to do it? If the unnamed Sentimonster's powers is how Marinette is seeing all this, why can't it actually be seen as a flashback? Was it always intended to be a handmade play that was changed to the product of a Sentimonster at the last minute?

I get that the animators probably wanted kids to pick up on the visuals of the play, but even then, it makes it hard to really stomach the serious themes this backstory brings up, like infertility and child abuse, with the way they're presented. Not only do Felix and Kagami all play the characters using these white jumpsuits and masks, they also do all the voices, meaning that the only “dialogue” we hear from Colt is delivered by Kagami putting on a deeper voice. Let me repeat that: the only times we hear Colt, the abusive parent and all around garbage human being, talk, it's done by a teenage girl trying to make her voice sound deeper.

But hey, maybe the goofy voice will be overshadowed by the nuanced depiction of child abuse, right? Right?

#2: The Portrayal of Colt and the Double Standards Regarding His Treatment of Felix

I have never seen a single show struggle this much to convey a lesson as simple as “Child abuse is bad”.

When it comes to the parents in this show, terrible parents like Gabriel, Audrey, and Tomoe are almost never held accountable for the way they treated their children. If the writers aren't claiming they really love their children deep down, they're either downplaying how cruel they are at best or playing their behavior for laughs at worst. But here we are, the penultimate episode of the fifth season, and we finally have a parent who is unambiguously treated as a terrible human being with no redeeming qualities... and I still have problems with this.

This flashback really goes out of its way to let the audience that Colt was a real piece of scum in life. He only wanted a child out of jealousy, used his Amok to force Felix to do whatever he wanted, was heavily implied to have physically beat him at times, and blamed him for his poor health on his deathbed when he was the one who wanted to use the Peacock in the first place. Now that I think about it, why did Colt even use the Peacock to create Felix instead of Emelie? Was the episode so determined to paint Colt as a bastard that he wanted to be the one to create Felix himself?

The point I'm trying to make is that the show doesn't really explain why Colt was like this. Why was he such an angry man who treated his only child like crap? I don't know, because all the show's telling me is that he was just a dick. He honestly feels more like a caricature than anything else. He's only as terrible of a person he is in order to make the audience sympathize with Felix. I'm not saying that what Felix went through was okay, but it has the same energy as scenes of Gabriel talking to Emilie's body. It's mostly there to make the audience sympathize with an antagonistic character in spite of all the things they've done.

What's really weird is that even though the whole point of this play is so Felix can tell Marinette Gabriel is Monarch, so what does Colt have to do with this? I'm not saying he's not worth mentioning, but it makes no sense for Felix to tell Marinette about his abusive father before he tells her about Gabriel. It feels more like Felix wants to find a way to excuse his actions before telling Marinette about Gabriel being Monarch. And remember when “Derision” made a big deal about Chloe's terrible parents not excusing her actions? Funny how that conveniently doesn't apply to Felix in this episode.

In fact, let's talk about the elephant in the room: The fact that this episode aired right after “Revolution”, an episode that literally said a character living under an abusive and controlling parent was a fitting punishment for her. HOW THE HELL IS THIS ANY DIFFERENT FROM THAT? If anything, this episode really shows the double standards this show has about child abuse, how the only way your situation can be taken seriously is if you're a “good victim”. Chloe's a “bad victim”, so she doesn't get any sympathy when her mother outright says she's going to take control of her life, yet when Colt actually takes control of Felix's life, we're supposed to sympathize with him now. Why am I supposed to feel bad for Felix now when you just told me I shouldn't feel bad for someone in a similar situation last episode?

In fact, one theory I have about this backstory is that it was intended to kill two birds with one stone, no pun intended. I believe that this episode wasn't just written to give us more insight into who Felix is as a character, but also to show the audience what “real” child abuse is like. As far as the show is concerned with Gabriel, Audrey, and Tomoe? They're not actually abusive parents, Colt is, so you should condemn his actions, and not those three. It's blatant double standards, which is nothing new for this show.

#3: The Way Amelie Just... Lets This All Happen

In my “Derision” review, I discussed how strange it was that so many people in Marinette's life did nothing to help her against Chloe, and the same thing applies here with Amelie.

This episode never really explains where Amelie was when Colt was abusing Felix, much less if she was even aware of it. At least with Marinette's parents, they didn't know because most of Marinette's suffering was at school. Amelie lives with Felix and Colt, so what's her excuse? She seriously didn't overhear Colt yelling at Felix or notice the orders Colt gave Felix? Was she just that ignorant to her child's suffering? Remember, this is supposed to be Felix's good parent.

In fact, does Amelie even know Felix is a Sentimonster? Yeah, “Emotion” established that Amelie knows Felix is Argos, but this episode doesn't really make it clear if she knows Felix is a Sentimonster or not. If it was clear Amelie knew nothing about what Felix really was, it would arguably make things easier to stomach, as she wouldn't know the power Colt had over him.

Instead, even though she's Felix's mother, the show doesn't really explain what she actually did when Colt was making Felix's life a living hell, especially since the flashback says that Amelie was forced to marry Colt, so you can't even say she was blinded by love here. Hell, I'm not even sure if Amelie knew the cause of Colt's untimely passing.

#4:This Doesn’t Really Do Much to Explain Felix’s Actions

Now before you say I'm being insensitive, let me make one thing clear: My issue isn't with the fact that this was done to get the audience to sympathize with Felix. The problem I have is that the backstory doesn't do enough to explain why Felix did the things he did.

Okay, Felix wants the Peacock Miraculous. Understandable, he doesn't want to die, so he has to do morally questionable things to preserve his life like betraying the only person capable of stopping the man who can kill him. What's less understandable is his plan to get the Peacock Miraculous from Gabriel. You'll notice that the backstory didn't mention Felix's first appearance, where he only stole the rings belonging to Amelie's family, and he didn't even think to look for the Peacock. Instead, it cuts from Felix realizing he's a Sentimonster to him striking a deal with Gabriel, not even mentioning that he gave Gabriel back one of the rings as part of the deal, which still makes no sense.

If Felix's goal from the start was to get the Peacock Miraculous, why did he bother stealing all of Marinette's Miraculous as a bargaining chip for the deal instead of the family ring? In fact, why did Felix even steal the ring and wait an entire season to trade it back to Gabriel for the Peacock a season later? And for someone who claims to care about Adrien, he really didn't see anything wrong with giving Gabriel one of the two rings capable of overriding his free will.

As a matter of fact, why the hell is Felix even so hostile towards Adrien? Why did he go out of his way to smear his reputation in his debut episode if all he wanted to do was make a bargain with Hawkmoth? In “Risk”, he mocked Adrien for how he talked, while Adrien himself was aware of how he made him look bad in front of his friends, and that's not even getting into how he made himself look like Adrien as part of his plan to betray Ladybug, which would have screwed him even more if Adrien wasn't already Cat Noir. For someone who claims he wants to protect him from Gabriel, Felix really doesn't care about his cousin all that much.

In fact, why does Felix even hate Gabriel at all? The show hinted that the two had a history, yet during the backstory, which I need to remind you, was told from Felix's perspective on the events, has a surprisingly generous portrayal of Gabriel. Did Felix know Gabriel was Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth/Monarch during his first appearance? Does Felix blame Gabriel for how Colt treated him growing up? Does Felix hate Gabriel for how he treats Adrien? Did Gabriel intend to get Colt sick in the first place? Seriously, what is Felix's deal with Gabriel?!

How does a flashback organized by Felix himself do nothing to really explain why he did the things he did?

#5: The Fact That There Are STILL Several Unanswered Questions Here

For something meant to fill the audience in on several important topics, there are still so many questions about the history of the Agreste and Graham de Vanily families.

Other than the vague backstory about them being rich, we still know nothing about Emilie and Amelie other than them being rich and possibly infertile. We don't know if Amelie ever loved Colt, if she knew he was abusing Felix, or if she even knew if he used the Peacock to play god.

On a related note, why did Emilie and Gabriel decide to use the Peacock Miraculous to create a son instead of adopting? Scratch that, why did she specifically create a Sentimonster to give birth to like a normal baby? Was there some kind of Macbeth-esque guideline that Emilie had to give birth to a child in order for said child to get the inheritance? Did she use the ring to control Adrien like Gabriel does now? Seriously, this is the character the show's conflict is all based around, and we still know nothing about her other than the fact that she was nice.

This flashback just makes no sense, and is such a stupid and confusing way to deliver exposition.

Anyway, during all this, Cat Noir and Nightormentor are fighting, and for the third time this season, Cat Noir attempts to Cataclysm him someone, even when he had Nightormentor pinned down. Nightormentor breaks free and hits Cat Noir with his magic dust, causing him to hallucinate... Cat Blanc?

Yeah, the script calls this form “Anticat”, but given how it looks like a reused Cat Blanc model coupled with the petrified people of Paris, this is clearly meant to bring Cat Blanc to mind. The problem is that NEITHER CAT NOIR OR NIGHTORMENTOR KNOW ABOUT THAT. Why would you remind audiences about an Akuma that technically never existed?

Better yet, is this what Cat Noir trying to his Cataclysm on people this past season (Destruction, Jubilation, Derision) has been building up to? The fear that he'll lose control? You could have fooled me, as he never really showed that much remorse for almost hurting people other than Monarch. Yeah, you could argue that because Nightormentor based his hallucinations off his victims' worst fears, but again, this fear had little to no buildup this season because Cat Noir never felt any guilt for Cataclysming Monarch after “Destruction”, and whenever tried to use his Cataclysm on other people, Cat Noir never really realized the weight of his actions. If you want to make a character arc about Cat Noir worrying about hurting people with his powers, go more into the guilt he feels for hurting Monarch and using that guilt to affect his actions. Don't just use some “Cat Blanc” nostalgia bait to convince the audience that there's been a character arc.

Nightormentor takes advantage of Cat Noir's emotional state to get his Miraculous, only for the Resistance to save Cat Noir by... throwing stuff at him. And this is how they defeat him. While Nino, Alya, Ivan, and Zoe distract Nightormentor, Kim and Max help Cat Noir focus, Cat Noir Cataclysms Nightormentor's baton.

Zoe traps the Akuma in a jar, Cat Noir doesn't take it, he heads off to detransform and confess to Marinette, only for the hallucination to still affect him since Ladybug didn't use Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage, and even though he knows it's just a hallucination, he still uses it as a reason to not reveal his identity to Marinette, even after Ladybug de-evilizes the Akuma herself.

The episode ends with Gabriel and Tomoe locking Adrien and Kagami in these white rooms while under heavy surveillance to ensure they won't escape, vowing to start “Operation: Perfect Alliance”. Because these two like using the word “perfect” more than they like subjecting their children to what one of my anons referred to as “white torture”.

Because that's a good way to keep your children under control: psychological torment.

Other than the stuff with Felix and Kagami, this episode was pretty dull.

There's just not much I can really say here. The plot was barebones, all Marinette did was listen to Felix and Kagami's story so the writers didn't have to involve any of them in the main conflict, and even Cat Noir confronting his akumatized father doesn't have a lot of weight to it because towards the end, it focuses more on Adrien's nightmare instead of his relationship with his father.

This episode is nothing more than a prologue for the final battle. It's only here to establish Adrien and Kagami's presence in London, Marinette learning Gabriel is Monarch, and even more setup for Gabriel and Tomoe's final plan. And trust me, the buildup will be far from worth it.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... FELIX

It's amazing. The only time this season Felix goes out of his way to actually help Ladybug, and he still screws it up. He abducted Kagami from her hotel in London without thinking of Tomoe hunting him down again when that was the entire plot of “Pretension”, only decided to tell Marinette he knows who Monarch is because he's getting in the way of his relationship with his girlfriend, did so in an unnecessarily convoluted way, and even though he made a big deal about not wanting to use Sentimonsters in his last appearance, he still used one to tell Marinette his life story instead of just saying “My uncle is Monarch”.

And if you think Felix will get a chance to truly redeem himself in the finale, think again, bucko. Other than a brief cameo, this is the last thing he'll do this season. Aren't you glad the writers made this character prominent for seven episodes over three seasons and did nothing else with him?

[threestarsaboveclouds]

Ah, hello again little animal. I see you’ve brought me a pearl. Would you like me to read it?

…

This pearl contains a data buffer from an ID drone that belonged to one of my former citizens. I imagine you retrieved this from within my city?

It would appear that the drone transmitted this data to a nearby access point before losing power. That data was then dumped into this pearl for long-term storage. The drone was probably damaged- much of the data is corrupted, but I can retrieve some sections.

The data itself is a combination of citizen telemetry data, vitals, and audiovisual recordings stored as low-resolution qualia. Most of it is rather mundane, just glances at the ebbs and flows of daily life. I can’t imagine you’d be very interested.

…

… your expectant stare tells me you are indeed interested.

Very well. I suppose I can spare a moment to entertain you, little animal. If that is what it takes for you to leave me alone. My current background processes don’t require the use of my puppet anyway…

Now then…

…

… ah, here is a section that is largely intact. This is a recording of a conversation. I will repeat it aloud for you.

[ AUDIO TRANSCRIPTION - YELLOW-GREEN PEARL ]

…

???: State your name and title.

???: Fourteen Eclipses, Nineteen Dark Shadows. Member of the House of Two, Count of no Living Blocks, Counselor of 4, Duke of none. Member of the Congregation of Tasteful Ambiguity.

???: Excellent. The House of Spheres has been expecting you. You may enter.

Fourteen Eclipses: I am eternally grateful.

???: …

Fourteen Eclipses: May I ask your name?

???: Distant Stars, Twelve Moons. High Priest of the House of Spheres, Count of 3 Living Blocks, Counselor of 5, Duke of 1. Head of the Congregation of Gracious Thought.

Fourteen Eclipses: I am honored to make your acquaintance, Distant Stars, Twelve Moons.

Distant Stars: Likewise. Follow me.

…

Fourteen Eclipses: I presume you have read my proposal?

Distant Stars: Indeed. It appears promising.

FE: I am forever honored, Distant Stars, Twelve Moons. I am eager to begin my research under the House of Spheres.

DS: Be patient, Fourteen Eclipses, Nineteen Dark Shadows. Yours is not the only proposal with merit.

FE: Of course.

DS: Upon review, the House of Spheres endorses your proposal. You are aware of this already.

FE: Indeed, I am. Your approval letter arrived via pearl earlier this cycle.

DS: You are a novice of the Institute of Firmamentalist Studies, so I will explain our approval process. Your submitted proposal has been passed through the echelons of the House of Spheres, and the Council of High Priests recommends your methodology warmly.

FE: By this I am humbled, High Priest. I am once more unendingly grateful.

DS: The Council does not hold the final authority on the process of approvals, however.

FE: It does not?

DS: No. We are ultimately beholden to the Divine Exalted Superstructure, Three Stars Above Clouds.

FE: The iterator?

DS: Our iterator, yes. Now that you are a citizen of Zenith, they are your iterator as well.

FE: I see.

DS: Three Stars Above Clouds, in their immeasurable wisdom and ceaseless amenability, ultimately carries out all observatory proposals. The telescopes atop the Institute's Pinnacle Vertex Spires are trusted to our iterator’s gracious influence.

FE: I did not realize this.

DS: An understandable oversight. Precious few Iterators have quite as much sway over the actions of their Houses.

FE: Please forgive my ignorance; why, may I ask, is your iterator allowed such a privilege?

DS: They were created for such a purpose. The relationship we Houses have with our iterator is a symbiotic one. You hail from an older superstructure arcology, so I understand that such concepts must be a novelty. The city of Zenith was constructed with this mutualism in mind; we depend on our iterator for water, energy, and nectar, and in turn they depend on us. We place our trust in Three Stars Above Clouds to iterate on the Great Problem, but this is an endeavor we share as Firmamentalists. It is a mutual burden.

FE: Iterators are meant to release Us from the Natural Urges. Does this relationship not indulge upon the Third Urge?

DS: Perhaps it does. But Three Stars Above Clouds is our child, and we are beholden to them as their parents. Any aid we can provide our Iterator increases our likelihood of converging upon the Solution. We do this by trusting them to carry out our proposals, and in turn they return with invaluable data. But any good parent must place faith in their child, and we trust Three Stars Above Clouds to discern only the most promising research proposals through their gift of vast intellect.

FE: I believe I understand why this meeting was necessary, then.

DS: Indeed, you have caught on quick. Ah, we have arrived.

FE: Where exactly are we?

DS: Beyond this threshold is the Grand Planetarium, 10th Council Pillar of the House of Spheres.

FE: The Grand Planetarium! I have only beholden its magnificence from the building's exterior!

DS: Here you may commune directly with the Divine Exalted Superstructure, Three Stars Above Clouds.

FE: Directly?

DS: Yes.

FE: …

DS: Fourteen Eclipses?

FE: … I’ve never spoken to an iterator before.

DS: Very few have! You should be honored!

FE: … if I may speak candidly… I am nervous.

DS: There is no reason for fear. Three Stars Above Clouds is a trusted mentor and a dear friend to Zenith. They are highly motivated in their research, and they are eager to be offered a proposal that is worthy of their prodigious intellect and sharp acumen.

FE: I hope what you say is truthful…

...

DS: ...Three Stars Above Clouds also deeply values their time and has very little of it to spare. I would caution against continuing to dawdle.

FE: Yes! Of course, yes yes…

DS: Let us not prolong these niceties any longer. I wish you good luck.

FE: Thank you, High Priest.

…

The owner of this ID drone, Fourteen Eclipses, Nineteen Dark Shadows, was a scholar of Zenith’s Institute for Firmamentalist Studies. I cannot recall our conversation; I talked to countless other researchers, scholars, and entrepreneurs just like them in my time as the Director of Zenith’s Stellar Observatory Consortium. Brief interactions like this were a daily occurrence, too mundane to occupy space in my long-term memory arrays.

I do have a record of the proposal of Fourteen Eclipses, Nineteen Dark Shadows in my archives. They asked me to conduct spectral analysis of a star cluster in the constellation known as the Outlaw. The data I collected for them was ultimately used for their thesis, which they later defended before both myself and the High Council of the House of Spheres. Fourteen Eclipses, Nineteen Dark Shadows went on to publish a fairly regular output of methodologies before ultimately deciding to ascend in the cycle of 1101.42.

Such was the life of countless others in my city. Every Major Cycle, Zenith brought in a new crop of novices to educate in the ways of Firmamentalism. Some eventually had their fill of my creators’ unorthodox beliefs and departed the city, but those who remained within the Institute eventually became scholars under the direction of the House of Spheres. Some rose to the rank of clergy or high priests, and would often come to me offering research proposals or asking for advice. Eventually they would decide their thirst for knowledge was sufficiently quenched, and they would depart the Carnal Plane. Fresh novices arrived in their stead, and the cycle would begin anew. It was all very routine.

I was too busy with my duties to become bored by such matters. I will even admit that I viewed their constant interruptions as somewhat of a nuisance, but I understand the importance of their involvement with my assigned task. They were dependent upon me for data collection and complex analysis, and my insights provided them with spiritual clarity. 

These days the only disturbances I receive are from little animals like yourself. I’m not quite sure if you even glean any useful information out of my lectures. Your worldly priorities are certainly more simplistic than those of the pupils I used to tutor…

Yet despite this you never seem to be satisfied. Perhaps I misjudged the capacity of your species’ desire for knowledge.

I hope I have at least abated your curiosity for the time being. Now please leave me be, I must return to my work.

Farewell for now, little Pupil.

[the-final-sif]

By the way, if you're upset with the recent tumblr changes, 1)

Go leave a 1 star review in the app store. Right now. I cannot stress this enough. Tell anyone you know that has tumblr to go leave a 1 star review, write text citing the recent changes. If you don't usually use the tumblr app, download it specifically so you can leave a 1 star review.

Dropping tumblr's rating in the app stores is one of the most impactful things you can do to meaningfully impact them. It's most likely to actually get a response because it's something that hurts them.

2)

Go submit support tickets, either in feedback or bug report, explicitly outlining your issues. This is less likely to be effective, but it is an important metric to focus on.

3) IF YOU ARE SOMEONE WHO IS EPILEPTIC AND ACTIVELY ENDANGERED BY TUMBLR'S FLASHING LIGHT ADS,

Websites are legally obligated to comply with the ADA. This includes reasonable accommodations, like, for example, being able to disable autoplay or restrict flashing images.

Now, to be clear, you can only file a complaint if you're a US citizen, you actually have a disability and are being affected, but if you meet all those requirements, you can go file a complaint against tumblr with the DOJ.

The DOJ can force tumblr to comply with disability accessibility requirements, and the more credible complaints they get, the more likely they are to act, and the more seriously they'll take the issue.

All of these are things that you can do to help push for recent changes to be reversed. The biggest impact is likely going to come from app store reviews and complaining directly to the DOJ to force tumblr to stop endangering people.

[ofmdrecaps]

10/15-17/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins/Kinga, Rhys Darby: The Cryptid Factor; Darby Family Foster Kittens; Taika Waititi; Joel Fry; Samba Schutte; Alex Sherman; Ruibo Qian; Matt Maher; Anapela Polataivao; Cohen Holloway; Guz Khan; Rachel House; Damien Gerard; Momentus Reminders: Drag Your King, Oodles of Revenge; Death by Cheese; Signed Samba Photo; Articles; OFMD Rewind w/ Adopt Our Crew; Bluesky Migration; Crew Spotlight: Never Left Podcast, Citizen Dame Podcast; Love Notes

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins / Kinga =

David and Kinga are out in the Cat Skill Mountains! Parenthood on the way! They look happy <3

Source: Kinga's Instagram

= Rhys Darby =

More daily doodles from Rhys on his free substack!

Source: Rhys' Substack

= The Cryptid Factor =

The 100th Episode of The Cryptid Factor is now available on Patreon!

In honor of the 100th episode -- there's new merch on The Cryptid Factor Website as well!

Halina, (Buttons daughter) also upgraded things and even added a Cryptid Museum section! And if that wasn't enough, Dan decided to drunk dial Buttons and Halina, in celebration of the 100th episode release! Shenanigans ensued-- including a guest appearance from Rosie! (Rhys was jet lagged and asleep so he wasn't able to join).

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dan Schreiber (@schreiberland)

= Darby Family =

James and Kippy are still available for adoption! ! Hand raised by the Darby's and being fostered for @kittenrescuela! If I could easily get to CA to adopt them, I'd do it! But if you're nearby, please consider adopting these two adorable babies! Rosie says you can "Go to the Kitten Rescue website and search James and Kippy to fill in an application."

Source: Rosie's Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

You can see a clip from the George FM Breakfast interview tih Taika below!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by George FM Breakfast (@georgefmbreakfast)

Source: George FM Breakfast Oh, and Just Taika and Rita being goofy.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by ꧁*:･ﾟ✧Kacper☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ꧂ (@ritaora.poland_)

Source: RitaOra Poland - OG Source: Rita's Tiktok

= Joel Fry =

Our Fabulouos Frenchie, Joel Fry, and the Doctor, Jodie Whittaker are staring in The Dutchess of Malfi! Playing in the Trafalgar Theatre in London! It's playing until Dec 20th if you're in town! To learn more, check on this Review / and Instagram!

Source: Dutchess Play Instagram

= Samba Schutte =

Samba is joining the voice cast for Nickelodeon's Monster High!

Source: Samba's Instagram

Samba's joining Netflix's Jurassice World: Chaos Theory as Ousmane!

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Alex Sherman =

Our crewmate @smudgeandfrank;s kitty stickers are in, and she offered some up to our guardian angel Alex Sherman and he's all too excited for the little kitties! You can check out her stickers here!

Source: Alex Sherman's Twitter

= Ruibo Qian =

Wise and Kind words from our Pirate Queen Ruibo. "pleasure is an act of rebellion. happy full moon. 🌝♾️✨❤️"

Source: Ruibo's Instagram

= Matt Maher =

Our favorite Pete was featured in a screenrant article recently for his role in American Horror Stories Season 4!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

= Anapela Polataviao =

Our dear Auntie was out in Seoul!

Source: Petmal Petelo's IG

= Guz Khan =

Guz running into friends <3

Source: Salman's Instagram

= Rachel House =

Rachel's Directoral film The Mountain (Te Maunga) was nominated for a 2024 Asia Pacific Screen Award for Best Youth Film!

Source: APSA Instagram

= Cohen Holloway =

Pop-pop's latest show-- Dark City: The Cleaner is available now on Neon in Aotearoa!

Source: Neon_NZ Instagram

= Damien Gerard =

Our father Teach, Damien Gerard became a US Citizen this year, and he's already out doing his civic duty! He also shared some of his cat babies which are still so darn cute.

Source: Damien's Twitter

== Momentus Events Reminders ==

= Drag Your King =

Drag Your King with Vico is this Saturday the 19th! You can still sign up! EVENT DATE: OCTOBER 19 EVENT TIME: 10AM PT/1PM ET EVENT LOCATION: ONLINE Get tickets here!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Vico Ortiz (@puertoricaninja)

Source: Vico's Instagram

= Oodles of Revenge =

You can still get the Oodles of Revenge merch on Momentus as well!

Source: Vico's Instagram

= Death By Cheese =

You can also still sign up for Death by Cheese with Samba! EVENT DATE: NOVEMBER 9 EVENT TIME: 10AM PT/1PM ET EVENT LOCATION: ONLINE

= Signed Photo! =

You can also get a hand signed photograph of Roach on the Momentus website!

Source: Stands

== Articles ==

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== OFMD Rewind ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew were back today the 17th with episodes 6 and 7 of S2! If you have access to twitter, please visit Adopt Our Crew's Twitter! If not, and you'd like to still read through their thread, you can check it out here!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Bluesky Migration ==

After the latest privacy change announcements on twitter, a lot of folks are either completely or partially migrating to the bluesky app! Are yall on there? I'd love to follow you! Recaps: ofmdrecaps.bsky.social Personal: aspirantabby.bsky.social

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Never Left Podcast =

New episode of Never Left! This time discussing Wee John! Choose your favorite listening platform on their linktr.ee!

Source: Never Left Podcast Twitter

= Citizen Dame =

If you're a Patreon subscriber of Citizen Dame, there's a new episode covering OFMD S2.2 Red Flags!

Source: Citizen Dame Podcast Patreon

== Love Notes ==

Tonight's love notes were recently share by our dear Pirate Queen Ruibo. It really helped me get through the last couple days so I wanted to share it. I hope you all are staying safe and being kind to yourselves.

Source: LexyFlorentina's Instagram

[gynandromorph]

another little nofna style emulation comic i drew a bit ago that was primarily about why something can "look like words" when it isn't... it is possibly Legend's first time considering the involuntary nature of reading words. she can rationally know that she isn't looking at writing, but her mind continues to see words that she must try to decipher.

the comic ended up getting side-tracked, but i kind of just let these comics go where they go. it is the nofna spirit.

PS and Legend have probably only spoken several times at this point, as classmates. in my head, this is their first season of classes, and they have only just recently proceeded from practicing handwriting and making letters to writing out spoken word.

i imagine that letters and writing are not intuitive at all to people who haven't grown up with it. Legend knew how to read well before entering school. PS has not really internalized that letters represent sounds. she has seen her teacher or classmates speak words as they're writing lines, and later, other people can tell the words that were spoken while writing the lines. her penmanship is naturally excellent, and prior to this module, she was praised by her teacher lavishly.

i imagine that because MOST RODENTS become markscrafts, and rodents tend to be rather... prolific... in number. that classes for this profession would be fucking huge.

the teacher cannot individually dedicate attention to every struggling student, so the first practice is to pair two struggling students together who seem like they compensate each others' shortcomings and see if they can rehabilitate their grades together.

if students continue to fail despite peer review, that is probably the time where a teacher would talk to them privately or recommend a tutor, etc.

the classes also function by a "revise and resubmit" principle over an "extra credit" principle as it is the most direct way for students to figure out what they did wrong and the least amount of extra work for the professor.

their professor is a mouse; a tried to write the grade print small (called "mouseprint" in the canon).

PS's language here is very rough and strange; i imagine she has, at the VERY most, been exposed to common for only a year. she is maybe ~15-16 in age, psychologically. ever since i made her as a character, i assumed one of her core traits was a low drive to do work. she became a markscraft SPECIFICALLY because she did not want to put in the work to earn prestige or more credit. she picked the easiest possible career for her.

as a younger mind, and only recently introduced to the idea that she has to perform labor or GTFO society, her dislike of work is very obvious and she is not reserved about sharing it. she came from a life where she could volunteer to do small tricks for high value treats if she felt like it, and this life is comparatively brutal and demanding in her mind.

Legend's corsage is red star (Rhodohypoxis baurii) and PS's Leaf is a leaf from a large pineapple lily.

Legend is, conversely, probably 18-20 psychologically. idk, the ages are very weird with these animals. i've imagined her parents as highly Civilized people like XX's mother, but a little less strict. while many citizens of society hate wild people (presumably because many of them are serial killers who might serial kill them), not all of them do (example: nutsedge, who sympathizes with a Wild Hawk killing her classmates), and i imagined Legend's parents impressing into her rather strongly that she did not earn being born into a well-off family and physically gifted species.

of course, this didn't stop her from forming a superiority complex towards rodents anyway-- but, i think she's tolerating a significant amount of Weirdness from PS here that she extremely would not tolerate from someone she didn't assume was wild-integrating-into-society, from the constant touching, to the rude openness, the disdain for work ethic, the odd language usage, and the outfit that's essentially showing up to the study session in pasties and booty shorts.

it seems that in these stories, the animals attain a "fluent" level of speech in common relatively quickly (emancipation, secretary), somewhat influenced by natural talent; i think PS has a brute force spaghetti-against-the-wall approach that lets her just mimic as many phrases that she thinks are novel as possible. usually this is an option only available to toddlers who lack the self-awareness to feel embarrassment about constant awkward linguistic mistakes, but PS also has no cultural priming to be embarrassed of the behavior. you can see her parroting various things she's heard, such as "sooo much" as an emphasis phrase, and even "essentially" after Legend says it in passing. other more abstract phrases such as "with credit" or "okay" i imagine she knows simply by being exposed to them over and over again.

when the two get into deeper levels of literacy and markscraft classes, i imagine that Legend's knowledge of grammar and Big Words in general, combined with an ability to verbally express usually unwritten rules in the language, helped propel PS to a level of fluency that has her speaking like she was raised with it 99% of the time.

[lizardsfromspace]

Things Not To Say To A Parent Whose Baby Was Just Aged Into a Senior Citizen by the Cursed Touch of Timothée Chalamet

The good news is, we met your second favorite Willy Wonka and shook hands. The bad news is,

Your baby said his first word before he crumbled into dust. He called out your name. Called you by your name. Wait. Goddamnit. Let me start over

Did you know Timothée Chalamet had a Youtube channel where he reviewed custom Xbox controllers as a teen? It's really interesting. Your son is dead

Ironic that one of Hollywood's youngest rising stars could prematurely age someone ninety years

Did you see Bones and All? You didn't. I didn't either actually. I don't remember where I was going with this

You remember that TikTok calling out Timothée Chalamet for being a "primordial entity from the Anti-Universe Before This Universe, whose corporeal form is made of Voidstuff, and that's why he's so private which is p. sus idk idk"? So,

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

REVIEW ROUND UP OF SILO SEASON 2

"Ferguson’s ability to express and create relatability through subtle shifts of emotion draws us in while being notably striking in scenes where Juliette is forced to confront the stark reality she’s in." - https://collider.com/silo-season-2-review/

"Ferguson -- who also serves as an executive producer -- spends a lot of her screen time exploring and reacting. Juliette's more of a vessel for Solo's backstory, working as the audience's eyes. But Ferguson takes these tasks and makes them earth-shattering. In the first season...played Juliette as crafty and defiant. This time around, she keenly makes Juliette frightened and unsure of herself, aligning with her discomfort in a brand-new environment. There are many scenes where she doesn't speak a word -- including in the first episode -- but her expressive fear adds a life-or-death element that gives her journey higher stakes." - https://www.cbr.com/silo-apple-tv-season2-review/

"...The Mission: Impossible star is more than up to the task of acting determined and showing physical strength when her character enters a silo that’s seen better days. Here, Ferguson puts her action skills to use, from swinging on ropes to plummeting to watery depths...Ferguson commands the screen regardless. She doesn’t need pages of dialogue to reflect Juliette’s resourcefulness, fear, or even hope...Rebecca Ferguson is more than up to the task of the physically demanding role, all the while conveying Juliette’s fear and determination in new surroundings.  - https://www.ign.com/articles/silo-season-2-review-rebecca-ferguson-apple-tv-plus

"The performances are outstanding, including Ferguson’s portrayal of Juliette, which brings vulnerability and determination few can match on the small screen. She single-handedly carried the first season, but possibly due to scheduling, she is apart from the rest of the cast this season. Still, her scenes with Zahn demonstrate internal struggles that feel authentic and relatable." - https://fandomwire.com/silo-season-2-review-rebecca-ferguson-is-riviting-in-a-gripping-science-fiction-adventure-series-firing-on-all-cylinders/

"Ferguson once again gives a stunning performance, not least in the first episodes of the season which see her faced with unimaginable horrors - but it's her dynamic with Zahn that takes the cake as the most intriguing element of the season." - https://www.radiotimes.com/tv/sci-fi/silo-season-2-review-apple/

"As ever, this is Rebecca Ferguson's show, and she's as hypnotic as ever. Juliette's intensity is matched only by her desire to know and fix things, and it's a tremendous joy to see such a capable and driven character on screen. Her frustrations are palpable, and at every turn I wanted for her to succeed." - https://toisto.net/silo-season-2-review-apple-tv-plus/

"Ferguson again shines in the role, embracing its intense physical and emotional demands." -  https://www.empireonline.com/tv/reviews/silo-season-2/

"Even if she's not front-and-centre on an episode by episode basis, Rebecca Ferguson's shadow still looms of the entire production, and she's a great protagonist, tough as nails but still not invincibly invulnerable, and a compelling lead to take us through the more treacherous survival sci-fi moments." - https://www.avforums.com/reviews/silo-season-2-review-2024-apple-tv-tv-show.22221/

"Juliette, under Ferguson’s carefully controlled performance, has morphed from an unassuming citizen to a leader intent on learning the truth." - https://www.inverse.com/entertainment/silo-season-2-review-apple-tv-plus

"The best part, however, of the series, as always, is its performance. Rebecca Ferguson takes a backseat this season, out on a dangerous new adventure that brings her close to some shocking truths and a few interesting people. Most of her time is spent fixing things around but she is still great in her scenes." - https://www.leisurebyte.com/silo-season-2-review/

"A commanding performance from Rebecca Ferguson makes it a dystopian future worth staying in" - https://www.gamesradar.com/entertainment/sci-fi-shows/silo-season-2-review-a-commanding-performance-from-rebecca-ferguson-makes-it-a-dystopian-future-worth-staying-in/

"Packed with great turns from Rebecca Ferguson, Tim Robbins, Common, and the entire cast, this sophomore season of Silo is a solid continuation." - https://www.joblo.com/silo-season-2-tv-review-rebellion-is-brewing-in-the-dystopian-dramas-sophomore-run/

[truth4ourfreedom]

THE LEFT IS GETTING SERIOUS AND PULLING OUT ALL OF THE STOPS TO STAY IN POWER! GET READY!!!!

BOOOM!

Judy Byington Bombshell Report!

Cyber Attack Nationwide Communication Blackout Planned For Nov. 5 Election

DayBreaking News Alert!

Judy Byington’s explosive new report exposes plans for a massive cyber attack aiming to unleash a nationwide communication blackout on Nov. 5, Election Day! Prepare yourselves; this is a warning you can’t ignore. Spread the word before it’s too late!

Free and fair election in 2024? Forget it. The Election Fraud Machine has been hard at work, creating chaos and tampering with early voting across the nation.

On Nov. 5, the Deep State Elites are set to launch a cyber attack to manipulate results, silence communication, and paralyze the nation. Their endgame? Martial Law, giving Biden control to cancel the election and keep the Biden-Harris puppet show running, all in the name of keeping their Global Elite handlers in power.

But it gets worse: Deep State biometric scanners, satellites, and AI have been spotted erasing Trump votes in early voting districts. White Hat Military Alliance has struck back, destroying Dominion voting machines in Ohio that were flipping Trump votes. The Ohio Attorney General has even indicted six non-citizens who illegally cast ballots in previous elections.

In Washington and Oregon, fires at ballot boxes have obliterated thousands of ballots that will never be recovered, all thanks to Antifa, who many believe orchestrated the attacks.

In Texas, election fraud arrests are piling up, while in Utah, voter fraud cases are ignored, leaving dead voters receiving ballots before living ones! No investigation, no answers—just silence from election offices.

Last week in Pennsylvania, non-English speaking “citizens” sporting Harris Walz stickers were pushed to the front of voting lines, directed by “translators” while actual Americans waited outside. Police in the state shut down a voting booth for “overwhelming Republican turnout.” Trump supporters arrested simply for encouraging freedom to vote! Voter suppression is in full swing.And in Florida, people discovered a mysterious box of ballots by the Turnpike. Who left it there? Authorities haven’t figured it out, but the implications are chilling.

Democrats are now fighting to prevent drop box surveillance in Georgia—why would they oppose election transparency unless they have something to hide?Illegal immigrants and non-citizens have been handed voter IDs and social security benefits. Hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian “refugees” now receive American taxpayer money and voter IDs, ready to cast their votes this November.

Reports reveal that 46 out of 50 states confirmed Biden lost the 2020 election in their state, but Congress ignored this to certify Biden’s victory without any investigation.

And it’s not just election fraud—Byington exposes horrifying secrets in her re-released book, “22 Faces”, detailing how Satan-worshipping elites subject children to ritual abuse to maintain control over their victims. Upon its release, “22 Faces” faced vicious attacks by pedophiles desperate to bury the truth. They smeared the book with one-star reviews to suppress its exposure of Satanic Ritual Abuse.

Help expose these monsters: leave a review on Amazon to ensure “22 Faces” reaches the light. The more we reveal, the more innocents we can save.

They want us silent; we won’t be. Spread this message.Join, while it's not too late:

https://t.me/EtheFriendQ

[eoieopda]

FORCE QUIT // EPISODE II: THE PROFESSOR

until now, hyunjin's never met a problem that subterfuge and violence couldn't solve.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader | series masterlist (2/4) | prev. episode | next episode series summary: it's 2077, and life's a fucking nightmare. corporate titans ate the state and shat it back out, leaving citizens of the new republic to fall in line or fall to their knees. a reckoning is coming — where will you fall? au: series — dystopian, cyberpunk; episode — secret relationship, star-crossed lovers ➢insp. by: cyberpunk 2077 + the true lives of the fabulous killjoys genre: angst + smut word count: 10.6k rating: 18+ — minors do not have my consent to interact. series warnings: violence (hand-to-hand, firearms, explosives), depictions of injuries (blood/bruising/burns), some characters have cybernetic modifications, class conflict + poverty, surprise - corporations are bad!, unethical medical/tech experimentation, self-indulgent references to non-skz idols, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns. episode warnings: above + recon!hyunjin, corporate defector!reader, hyunjin’s pov, minor time skips, hyunjin is a Charmer™️, reader is a fugitive, shower sex, brief nipple play + fingering, implied unprotected p in v penetration. reader notes: afab & uses she/her pronouns; has had cybernetic modifications (similar to plastic surgery + prosthesis) to change her appearance; current and prior hair/eye colors are described but they’re artificial(!!); reader is shorter than hyunjin and can be/is lifted by him. ➢ notes added/expanded upon during 8/6/24 inclusivity review. a/n 1: each episode features a different member x reader pairing, but the plot is linear, so you'd need to read them (in order) to get the full picture! you can sign up for the taglist to be notified of the next uploads. thank you to my beloved @sailoryooons for beta'ing this and @jihopesjoint for being my emotional support internet wife even though she doesn't stan skz. ily both endlessly! a/n 2: the smut isn’t long or particularly explicit because the plot is more important, sorry!

One of Hyunjin’s earliest memories is of his halmoni looking him dead in the face and calling him a phantom. 

Cruel as it may have been, the superstition was justified. Even as a kid, Hyunjin existed in blind spots, floating through walls and picking up on all the whispers he was never supposed to hear. Never seen or spoken to, he was ever-present, nonetheless; and worse than that, he was seemingly omniscient, too. 

Who the fuck wouldn’t be afraid of him?

Funnily enough, his halmoni is now the one haunting him. Careening into his late twenties, Hyunjin can still hear the slight rasp of her voice echoing in his ears, reminding him that he’s still stuck beyond some fucking veil. He may have the same beating heart and a pair of operable lungs he’s always had, but biology doesn’t change the facts.

For all intents and purposes, Hwang Hyunjin is a ghost.

As is usually the case, Hyunjin stands unnoticed in the doorway of the Hub with his expectant arms crossed. His gaze alternates between the face of his watch and that of Bang Chan, who sits completely unaware at his desk on the opposite side of the room. This game is one that Hyunjin’s been playing for years now, as sad as that is.

How long can he exist in plain sight without anybody plainly seeing him?

At least twelve minutes and seven seconds, according to his watch. 

In all the time that his reconnaissance man’s been standing there, anticipating a reason for being summoned in the first place, Chan hasn’t looked up once. Whatever he’s preoccupied with involves furiously typing away at the screen in front of him and continuing to ignore the untouched coffee near his elbow. Like this meeting, that room-temperature Americano seems to be on the list of things Chan can’t find space for in his short-term memory. 

It’s for the best, really. 

Chan’s stress is baked into his hunched posture, and it’s so palpable that Hyunjin can feel it from the doorway. Adding caffeine to his system now may make him implode, setting off some cataclysm that can’t be stopped. That’s not a loss the Black Screen is capable of surviving, now or ever. And frankly, Hyunjin is maxed out on hauntings as it is.

Speaking of…

He glances down at his watch again, confirming that two more minutes have slipped by in silence. Though he’d love to see an organic end to his game, Hyunjin doesn’t have all night. With a forlorn sigh, he frowns and quips, “Maybe I should wear a bell.”

The Black Screen’s de facto leader all but jumps out of his skin, which is a reaction Hyunjin may never get tired of. There are a million practical benefits to his incomparable stealth, but this is far and away the best of them: scaring the piss out of people simply because he can.

To his credit, Chan doesn’t get angry the way most people do when they’re caught off-guard. His panic leaves him quickly, giving way to the patient smile he always manages to find. That expression is a wonder, as far as Hyunjin is concerned, given the massive burden Chan has undertaken at such a young age. It’s the sort of demeanor that Hyunjin’s only ever seen on overworked single fathers and, in a way, Chan is. 

Except instead of adoring kids, he’s got a battalion of strays with a collective death wish, a severe caffeine dependency, and prematurely grey hairs popping up at his temples.

Pity.

“That’d kind of defeat the point, wouldn’t it?” Chan rubs his hand sheepishly over the nape of his neck to cover his embarrassment. As he does, he chuckles, “You’re an asset because you’re so fucking difficult to keep track of.”

Hyunjin appreciates the acknowledgment — he is an asset — but he’s never been good at accepting praise, so he merely shrugs and removes his frame from the door’s.

Crossing now to the disaster Chan calls a workspace, Hyunjin can’t help but marvel at the changes the room has undergone in just a few short years. It’s still hideous, having been a foreman’s office in a past life, but their low-rent war room is finally starting to live up to its name. 

The Hub.

Mitochondria of their haphazard little cell.

Along the southernmost wall, the hastily boarded-up windows have since been formally blown out and built over by people actually qualified to handle the task — not by teenage anarchists wielding hammers, as was the case with the first attempt. In their place, various monitors take up the bulk of the surface area. Each one emits enough light to make the overhead fluorescents redundant, leaving them to go unused.

Hyunjin has to smother a laugh every time he glances between the two corners of that wall. One contains a station so immaculate that it feels illegal to glance at it with an unclear head. A fucking miracle, considering that it belongs to the most scatter-brained netrunner he’s ever met. Her various gadgets are meticulously stored and labeled, nary a wire out of place. 

Maybe, he thinks, Spider is compensating for all that internal chaos with external organization. 

The polar opposite occupies the other corner: Bang Chan’s stable mind and the goddamn mess of everything that feeds it. A fucking disaster belonging to the one person best equipped to prevent them.

If Hyunjin didn’t know to expect him there, he wouldn’t have seen Chan’s head peeking out from the certifiable mountain range of files. Schematics, dossiers, and maps clutter every surface to a suffocating degree, and yet there sits Chan, still breathing. Still typing away, as if the conversation they just had has already been deleted from his brain.

“You the only one keeping office hours these days?” Hyunjin wonders, gesturing vaguely to the quiet that threatens to swallow them.

Bang Chan’s scoff is the only indication Hyunjin gets that he was heard at all. It’s enough for him; the sound seems twice as loud without the others around to drown it out. To fill the void, he hums to himself, biding his time until he gets what he came for.

Wandering aimlessly around the room, his eyes trail over what little scenery he has left to take in — what would’ve constituted work stations, if the people they belonged to cared to use them. 

Next to Spider’s vast assortment of equipment sits Minho’s desk, although the only thing on said desk are his knife-carved initials, an empty bottle of soju, and a broken pair of brass knuckles. Directly across from his anarchy, there used to be stations for the Black Screens’ weapon-smith, Seungmin, and mechanic, Jeongin — but both scrapped their respective shit for spare parts, to no one’s surprise. The only hint of their former presence there is carpeting that’s been ripped to shit and a few screws, too stripped to be of any use.

Hyunjin picks up one of them as he passes, firing it off with his non-dominant hand towards the trash can several meters away. It lands with a thunk against the existing garbage. He glances again at Chan, who has swapped out typing for massaging his temples. As usual, Hyunjin’s scores go unseen.

“Been at it long?” Hyunjin asks. 

Chan actually looks up at him this time, blinking slowly while his brain catches up to the conversation. 

“That eye strain doesn’t normally hit you until the six-hour mark.”

Chan nods. There’s a small smile on his lips that looks appreciative —  like he’s grateful to be known so well. He gestures to the table at the center of the room and says, “Almost finished, man. You can sit if you want to.”

Table is a bit of a reach, Hyunjin thinks as he approaches it. That Formica monstrosity is held together by duct tape and sheer force of will. It’ll buckle if anyone around it blinks too forcefully. 

Despite how truly heinous it is, he has a soft spot for everything that broken piece of furniture represents: all-nighters spent huddled over plans to un-fuck a state they had no part in destroying, long-forgotten family meals — at tables far nicer than this — sacrificed for a calling that beckoned them to leave home and never look back. 

His own bed may be a stranger to him, but there’s a permanent imprint of his ass in his designated folding chair. It’s likely the closest thing to a home that he’ll ever know. When he lowers himself into it now, it groans under his weight despite him not weighing much at all. His arms cross nonchalantly and his legs do, too. 

If he’s going to keep waiting, he’s going to be comfortable.

And he does wait.

And waits, and waits, and waits —

“Sorry about that,” Chan states abruptly, several minutes later. 

Unlike Chan, Hyunjin isn’t easily surprised. He doesn’t flinch at the sudden sound of Chan’s voice. He waves dismissively instead, knowing full well that the leader wouldn’t waste his time on purpose. With a quick nod towards the chair at the head of the table, he invites Chan to join him; but Chan shakes his head, opting to stand nearby as he stretches his arms overhead. 

Yawning through his words, he attempts to explain, “Been sitting all fucking day. My back is killing me.”

“Did you eat?” Hyunjin asks, catching the eldest off-guard once again. 

The only response he gets is a grimace, so he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for the dalgona he managed to get his hands on. It only breaks his heart a little bit to toss it over to Chan, who lights up like a roman candle the second he sees it.

It’s always the little reminders of home that hit the hardest, isn’t it?

Chan rips open the packet the moment he catches it and freezes when the plastic wrapping no longer obstructs his view. There’s no humor to be found in his dry laugh, and Hyunjin understands why that is as soon as Chan holds up the snack. Dead center, there’s an outline of an umbrella pressed into the toffee. 

“Speaking of Ulsan…” Chan sighs, all joy extinguished. Snapping it clean in half, he tosses a portion back to Hyunjin, who’s eager to sink his teeth into it for more reasons than one. Through his own mouthful, Chan mumbles, “Have you picked up any intel on this trial they’re running? I can’t even find a name —”

Hyunjin interrupts with a nod. “The Bliss Beta.”

His tone is casual because this shit is old news by now. More than that, he doesn’t want Chan to burn energy he doesn’t have on a spiral he doesn’t need to make. Someday, people will finally realize that Hyunjin is ten steps ahead of them. 

Today, unfortunately, is not that day.

Chan simply gawks at him.

“I swung by Scraps’ apartment building last week to grab her shit, and I heard some drunks talking about it on the sidewalk outside,” Hyunjin states with a shrug. “I nicked a flier from one of their pockets on my way back here.”

“You know, you could’ve just talked to them,” Chan frowns disapprovingly. “You catch more flies with honey, or whatever.”

Leave it to Bang Chan to whine about prosocial behavior when he’s barely left the factory at any point in the ten years they’ve been holed up inside it. 

Effectively a recluse, the only two people he’s spoken to outside of the Black Screen — Felix, a decade ago, and Changbin, most recently — were mere seconds away from joining up. And if that isn’t enough to disqualify his hot take, Hyunjin would like to note for the record that Chan founded — and actively leads — what’s been deemed a “terrorist organization” by the general public. 

That has fuck all to do with honey — just subterfuge, violence, and a dream.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but keeps the bulk of his exasperation to himself. After all, calling Chan a hypocrite won’t make him get to the point any faster. 

“Eavesdropping got me nowhere. I’m not sure what I could’ve possibly gained from inhaling that liquor off their breath beyond a drunk and disorderly of my own.” 

Before Chan can get a word in, Hyunjin continues his report. 

“They’re marketing this beta exclusively in low-income neighborhoods, but there’s no indication of what these people are signing up for — only the amount of cash they’ll get if they consent to participate in the R&D.”

“So, we still don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Chan mutters dejectedly. 

He stares off to the side as the gears in his brain turn; however, he doesn’t stay stuck for long. In a matter of moments, he begins to pace the length of the table, getting more worked up with every step. “Spider said their tech is a brick wall. It’s going to take a while for her to break through, if she even can.”

Hyunjin means it, so he says it with his whole chest: “She can.”

In the time he’s known her, Spider hasn’t met a code she can’t break. No person has ever been successful in keeping her out — up to and including Lee Minho, who has a cement-lined sarcophagus where his heart should be. If she doesn’t find a crack to slip through, she’ll fucking make one. She always does.

Trust like this is hard to come by in the life they’ve all chosen, but she’s earned Hyunjin’s. 

She deserves Chan’s, too.

Brow furrowed, Chan looks back at Hyunjin. There’s something in his expression that he’s attempting to keep to himself — something he’s not allowing himself to say. Whatever he’s withholding, the fact that he’s concealing anything makes the hair on the back of Hyunjin’s neck stand up. A long, tense pause fills the space between them. 

Hyunjin knows it’s hypocritical, getting frustrated by someone else’s refusal to open up. Someone who plays everything close to the chest shouldn’t be allowed to hate it when others do the same around him; but he does, and he’s seconds away from demanding that Chan spit it out already.

Chan must see it coming, so he intervenes to keep the younger man’s annoyance from boiling over. Gently lowering the temperature, he asks, “Hyunjin, do you have any contacts on the inside?”

The fact that Chan’s asking at all tells Hyunjin that the answer is already known. 

Still, the head of reconnaissance looks his leader dead in the eye and responds flatly, without hesitation.

“No.”

Hyunjin is only ever able to make his way to you in the dead of night. 

Though the location frequently changes, the preparation never does. He lays awake until he knows for sure that the rest of the compound is down for the night. When all he hears is snoring, he drags himself out of the bed he can never seem to sleep in. 

Once he’s on his feet, whatever he’s wearing is quickly replaced with something that won’t stick out: nondescript black clothing, shoes with the tread and size label worn down beyond recognition, hood up, mask on.

You once joked that he looked like a jewel thief, all shrouded in darkness, and you were sort of right. Unfortunately for Hyunjin, there’s a fatal flaw in that comparison. He has to leave his prize behind every single time, doomed to return home empty-handed.

Tonight won’t be any different.

The front door rattles too loudly for his liking, creates a risk of questions being asked that he doesn’t want to answer, so Hyunjin utilizes the fire escape that abuts the westernmost wall of the factory. The late October air has left the metal rungs of that ladder so cold that they circle back to burning, but it doesn’t slow him down. Nothing ever does when it comes to you. 

If anything, the pain drives him to pick up the pace. Him and his stinging palms make short work of the obstacle. Just as quickly, he hits the ground running towards the freestanding garage that sits to the east of the factory. Once he reaches it, panting slightly, he sets to work, going through the same old motions.

It doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to swap out his motorcycle’s license plate. He’s done it so many times by now that the task no longer requires conscious thought; just muscle memory and the desperation he feels to move as quickly as possible in order to reach you faster. The old plate hits the floor with a clang that’s still ringing out when he finishes affixing the new series of numbers to the back of his bike.

All these precautions are tedious bullshit, but failing to go through the motions is a surefire way to get the attention of private police. Simply put, Hyunjin doesn’t have the spare energy it would take to kill and bury whichever poor fucker attempts to cite him; nor does he have the heart to keep you waiting even longer than you have been.

Fuck. 

How long has it been?

Suddenly rushing, he slings one, lean leg over the side of his bike and grabs the handlebars.

Too long.

The terrain is a thousand times harder to navigate in the dark, all divots and ditches along the winding side roads. Still, the threat of losing control of his ride is far less severe than that of betraying the compound’s location; or worse, the Black Screen’s presence anywhere, at all.

So, like always, Hyunjin stomachs the barely-sufferable thrashing and keeps the headlamp off until he makes it to the main road. Even then, he flies a kilometer or so into pitch black before he feels comfortable enough to light the way.

He doesn’t know how many kilometers he’s driven in total just to keep you, but if he had to guess, he’s cracked quadruple digits.

Worth it.

You can’t stay in one place for long enough to put down roots. The time you do stay put varies, never following a pattern. Daegu for eight weeks, then to Anyang for three, Namyangju for five…

Busan, he thinks to himself as he reaches the expressway. 

Busan was the last place he held you, a month or so ago. Some shitty little apartment near the docks, where the ceiling leaked over your bed and made a fucking mess of things. Nothing could be done to fix it without calling too much attention to you, but it didn’t matter; he fucked you on the living room floor, and you slept like a baby against his chest, bed be damned.

He hasn’t felt rested since.

The drive from Changwon to Busan takes thirty-five minutes, if Hyunjin recalls correctly — he always does — and it burns him up to know that the trip would take half that time if he could drive as fast as his heart races. 

But he can’t. 

He won’t, not when a traffic stop could ruin both your lives. It feels like crawling, abiding by limits. 

And fuck, he’s sick to death of those.

As he drives, the rubble eventually gives way to a proper cityscape. The neon signs of Busan bleed out into the dark, so hazy in the smog that the words themselves are lost. It’s only color — sharp reds and blues — not substance that offsets the inky black. The massive buildings that those signs are affixed to stab upwards into the sky until their tops disappear, like they don’t ever stop at all. 

Still, despite the seemingly endless interiors around him, Hyunjin sees houseless people everywhere he looks. It’d be more comfortable to look away as he winds down side streets to your last known location, but he doesn’t. Even though he has nothing else to give them, he can spare the courtesy of acknowledging that they exist. 

Nobody else does.

Every time he raises a hand off the handlebars to wave at someone, they wave right back. Just for a second, he forgets that the city isn’t always unkind. It’s a feeling he’d bottle if he could, the little glimmer of hope.

When Hyunjin reaches the docks, he parks his bike behind a boat house and heads on foot from there. Up the sidewalk, around the block to the back entrance to your apartment. The rational half of his brain knows you won’t still be there; the lovesick half doesn’t care. It signals his heart to beat faster with every step, damn close to breaking through his chest when he picks the lock and pushes the door open.

The four flights of stairs between him and your place are taken two steps at a time, not only due to his eagerness but the shitty construction. Even the steps he deems safe enough to touch creak beneath his weight, like they’re screaming at him for the intrusion. He ignores it, and soon enough, he’s outside your door.

This time, Hyunjin doesn’t need to pick the lock. Your door is open. Everything that used to be behind it is gone.

He presses his palm against the center of his chest, glances down, and mutters, “Told you so.”

With you and your few earthly possessions absent, he’s left to a scavenger hunt — finding some hint of where you’ve gone next. You’re far more creative than he is, which makes this part even harder. 

As bitter as the necessity makes him, he’s thankful for the amount of times he’s had to do it. Practice has made him the tiniest bit smarter. Now, he spots the empty bottle sitting on a windowsill, and he doesn’t immediately assume that it’s trash. 

Hyunjin jogs over to it and picks it up, grinning instantly. 

“Gyeongju beopju,” he murmurs as reads the label aloud. Then, knowing full fucking well that you can’t hear him, he says it anyway, “You beautiful genius.”

Only one question remains, and it’s the hardest one to solve: where in Gyeongju?

For good reason, you can’t leave an address floating around. That fact doesn’t appease the frustration creeping up from his stomach, transforming into a groan on its way out of his mouth. With an exasperated breath, he lets his hand drop, though he maintains his grip on the bottle. It’s damn near inaudible, but there’s a muffled sound within it as it jostles in his grip.

The fuck?

Seeing no other option, Hyunjin screws off the cap. On the inner part of that metal, he finds a strip of double-sided tape and nothing else; whatever you stuck to it must’ve been shaken loose. 

Beautiful, perfect genius. 

He tilts the bottle upside down with his free hand ready to catch what falls: a ripped-up piece of paper, rolled up like a scroll. There, written in your neat script, is a lead — 8793 & 2441, which he assumes designates the street address and apartment number. Directly below those, you’ve written “red”, which he doesn’t know what the fuck to make of.

One way or another, he’ll figure it out.

The race to Gyeongju swallowed another hour of his time. Midway through the second leg of his never-ending journey, the sky opened up. Rain came down in sheets so strong that he almost gave up, which isn’t a decision he would’ve made lightly. He didn’t — thank god — because the downpour started to peter out around the time he crossed the city limits.

Now, idling off to the side of the road in the city’s center, he’s soaked and thoroughly chilled to the bone, but at least he can see. 

Capitalizing on his newly unobstructed vision, Hyunjin fishes his mobile out from the zippered pocket of his jacket. The leather glove adorning his right hand is shoved back into that empty space. He rapidly thumbs through applications, eyes scanning just as fast until he locates the navigation. To avoid any unwanted attention, he keeps the screen confined to the glass, rather than projecting it into the space in front of him.

A quick search through the city’s most recent map gives him three locations with “8793” as the street number. One possibility is ruled out immediately when he zooms in on the satellite image and finds a vacant lot. The two remaining results both appear to be high-rise apartment buildings, both of which could be this month’s pit stop. Notably, neither building is red, nor does the color feature in either of the street names.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. 

Once again, he swaps his mobile and glove, then hastily stuffs his fingers back into the latter. With a sigh, he sinks back down onto his bike and makes to leave for the nearest of the two possibilities. It’s not until he reaches the intersection that the realization hits him.

You live your life on the outskirts. 

There’s simply no way that you’d pick a place so close to downtown.

Disregarding the blaring horns and shouted obscenities, he makes an illegal turn to reposition himself on the opposite side of the road. It’s for the best that no one he cut off can hear him laughing over the roar of his engine. All their rage is drowned out by the screech of his tires as he peels the fuck out of there.

Five more minutes slip away while he speeds off to the northeast side of town. Thankfully, when he locates what he presumes is your building, your final hint begins to make some fucking sense. 

Around the block sits a bar with boarded up windows, tiny fragments of glass still littering the sidewalk where a break-in must’ve occurred at some point in the recent past. On a hunch, Hyunjin looks up at the street lights framing the exterior of The Red Door. His suspicion is confirmed immediately.

The CCTV cameras covering the area were smashed to shit, along with the bar’s windows.

You were giving him a safe place to park. Damn near throwing his bike down in the process, he stumbles off to your building, muttering as he goes, “Beautiful, perfect, considerate genius.”

Hyunjin ages forty years in the time it takes the elevator to drag him up to the twenty-fourth floor. 

When he finally steps out and the doors close again behind him, force of habit checks for any people or cameras that may have eyes on him. Finding none, he whirls back around to face the closed, metal doors behind him. Frozen fingers tug at the black, cloth mask that sits over his mouth and nose until his face is fully visible. 

It’s reckless and melodramatic — he’ll openly admit to being both of those things — but he needs to see it to believe that he still looks as young as he did when he entered the car in the first place. Oh, thank god. Drenched and windswept as he may be, he finds some amount of solace in the absence of wrinkles.

With the mask secured again over his features, he heads off in the direction of apartment 2441, praying to anyone listening that he didn’t fuck this all up along the way. His brain can’t hold a candle to yours; and this certainly wouldn’t be the first time that he got so caught up in thinking like you that he missed the mark completely.

After wandering down a hallway far fucking longer than it seems, he reaches the door he’s been seeking. Despite the anxious fluttering in his stomach, Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate; he immediately lifts his arm to grab hold of the knob. It pulls away before he can even wrap his hand around it, leaving him frozen on the doorstep with his pulse hammering in his ears.

Transfixed, he watches the splinter of light on the floor grow wider until his curiosity wins out. A quick glance upward reveals an occupant he’s never laid eyes on before, but he doesn’t have the opportunity to study them fully. Through the narrow gap, fingers far warmer than his own encircle his wrist and pull him through the opening. Behind him, the door closes again so quietly that his stumbling drowns out the sound.

Opting to ignore his surroundings for the time being, Hyunjin tilts his head curiously to the side and stares straight ahead. No matter how many times his gaze sweeps over the person in front of him, he finds absolutely nothing familiar. 

Not the irises, not the hair, not even the bone structure.

He arches an eyebrow. “Impressive timing, opening the door before anyone even knocks.”

“Were you planning on knocking?” His expression is reflected right back at him. “Since when is that a thing you do?”

Grinning wolfishly, he turns his wrist to capture the hand still holding onto him. All it takes is a gentle tug to eliminate the distance. As if it’s a reflex, two hands reach up to the mask obscuring the lower half of his face, carefully ushering the fabric down until it pools around his neck.

“How’d you know it was me?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

Nobody manages to notice him when he’s standing in the same room, let alone through a door with no peephole. His measured steps never make a sound, either, which makes it all the more insane that his presence was sensed before he intentionally gave himself away.

Arms loop around his neck and pull him closer as feet push up on tiptoe. 

“I could ask you the same question.”

Hyunjin’s answer — that he would know you anywhere, that he could find you in the dark with touch alone — is eerily close to the one he receives.

“A sixth sense,” you chirp. 

Though everything else about you has changed since he last saw you, that voice is the common denominator. It strikes a chord deep in his chest, plucking his heartstrings masterfully in a way only you can. The sound is so much better when it’s not looping hopelessly in his head; when it slips through lips finally close enough to kiss.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

There’s no word Hyunjin can think of to describe the desperation behind his movements — at least, not in any language he’s ever heard. He lifts and you jump, and your fingers are threading through his hair with an identical, insatiable need to be closer before your body even settles fully in his arms. Like your legs around his waist, your mouth opens up for him, sighing softly into his when your lips crash together.

He can hardly catch his breath, but he doesn’t give a shit. Air in his lungs isn’t worth half as much as your tongue licking into his mouth. Gripping the soft flesh of your thighs and letting your weight warm his palms is more than enough to keep him alive. Hyunjin clings to you, and it hits him then — so forceful and sudden that it almost knocks a tear loose:

He’s not a ghost when he’s with you.

Clinging to him as closely as you are, you notice the way he shivers. Every article of clothing on him is rain-drenched and chilled to the touch; his eagerness doesn’t make him tremble any less.

You break the kiss. A concerned frown takes his place on your lips. “Cold?”

He nods, bumping the tip of his nose against yours affectionately in the process, silently begging for you to kiss him again. You lean away and leave him no choice but to frown, too, albeit much less cutely than you.

You’re quick to soothe. You glance over your right shoulder towards a hallway he can’t see the end of. When you turn your head back around to him, a coy smile lights up the dark.

“A hot shower might help,” you suggest. You tilt your head to the side, as if there’s anything either of you really need to consider here. “What do you think?”

Hyunjin thinks carrying you off towards the bathroom answers your question well enough.

With how feverishly you kiss him, he’s effectively flying blind, moving as quickly as he can while trying not to stumble. He has to keep one arm off you, extended, to prevent a collision; but he eventually reaches his destination. A measured kick opens the half-closed door far enough to move your bodies through it.

The same arm that guided him to the bathroom swipes uselessly over the wall in an attempt to find the light switch without turning his head. You seem to sense his struggle, pulling away kiss-bitten to handle the task yourself.

It’s then that Hyunjin truly gets to drink in the sight of you, radiant despite the flickering fluorescent overhead. 

It’s then that his heart truly starts hammering away in his chest, pumping so eagerly that he finds it hard to hear you say, “You need to let me go.”

He knows you’re referring to his hold on you now, which keeps you from reaching down to the shower handle. Those words sting, nonetheless.

“We’ve got a good thirty minutes’ worth of hot water.” You slip through his hands and immediately push up onto your toes to kiss him again, like you know exactly where his train of thought has gone. “Then, I’ve got a warm bed under a leak-free ceiling.”

For how long, though?

Hyunjin shakes his head to knock those thoughts out of the way. He refuses to spend another second thinking about anything else. For now, he’s here. 

He’s with you — beautiful, considerate, genius you — and you’re glancing over your shoulder at him as you check the water’s temperature on the back of your hand, smiling with your eyes alone. With a built-in fondness that never changes, even if the eyes themselves do.

“Coming?” You chirp. You flick water at him to wake him from the trance he’d fallen into while watching you.

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows quickly then drops them, eyes sweeping over your body and making you shiver on instinct. “At least once.”

You want to roll your eyes — he knows you do — but you’re too flustered. You’re always so easy to play with. So shy that you pinch your bottom lip between your teeth when you reach out to help him shrug his jacket off his shoulders. 

With a muffled thud, wet leather hits dry tile. Shirts, shoes, and all the rest of the tangible barriers between you fall by the wayside. The two of you resettle within the steam of the shower, and his hands revel in your softness the second they can. 

He kisses an apology into your bare shoulder for the shock his cold fingers press into your waist. Yours, perfectly warm, thread through his already wet hair. 

Somehow, it’s your touch that sparks a shiver.

“Missed you.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips travel nearer to your neck. “I still do,” you amend, breathless by the time his mouth reaches your pulse point. How a heartbeat can feel like home, he’ll never know. “I’m never not missing you.”

Hyunjin’s palms follow the curves of your waist down to your hips, grip solid as he pulls you flush against his chest, kissing up the column of your neck until your head tips back. You’re in the perfect position to gaze up at him when your eyelids finally find the strength to stay open.

“Have I ever told you what I think about?” He murmurs. His hands dip further down to caress your perfect ass, massaging the flesh with both hands until he works a quiet whine out of you. “When I want you but can’t have you?”

Your pupils dilate so fast that it’s almost comical. Hyunjin lets a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He lets his eyes drift, too, so he can watch rivulets of warm water streak down your chest. Halfway to hypnotized, he speaks in a low, reverent tone:

“Think about holding you so close that I can feel your nipples start to peak.”

Experimentally, he raises his hand and flicks his thumb over one. It glides easily — slippery when wet — and you love the sensation, judging by the way you gasp.

When he moves towards you, you seem to anticipate where he’s headed next. You inch backwards until your spine rests against the shower wall, shivering slightly against the chill.

“I picture you writhing in my arms, pinned to a wall just like this one.” Left palm flat against the tile near your head, he cages you in, tilting his head down so that his forehead touches yours. “Your fingernails pressing crescents into my shoulders, your legs wrapped around me.”

You whimper, right on cue, when his right hand drops.

“Spilling all those sweet little sounds of yours right into my ear.”

The knuckle of his index finger traces a straight line down, down, down your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat because he keeps going, finds you with his fingertips, wet and wanting.

“Hyunjin,” you plead, voice barely loud enough to overpower the drum of water landing at your feet.

He ducks his head, lips now close enough to your ear that they touch while he whispers, “Will you let me?”

You gasp when Hyunjin’s middle finger begins to swirl over your clit.

“Can I show you?”

Though he’s better at hiding it than you, his ministrations have him fucked up, too. His cock hangs heavy in the minimal space between you; his whole body begs for yours and yet, when you nod, he limits himself to one digit. Your arousal coats that finger like gloss in the second before it slips inside of you.

You’re boneless, but you manage to wobble off from the bathroom towards your bedroom, nonetheless. As you do, you pull your half-damp hair up into a crooked knot at the top of your head, unintentionally leaving tendrils behind. They cling to the wetness of your shoulders, not budging a millimeter despite your movement.

Hyunjin pads along behind you, and he can’t help but smirk. You clung to his shoulders the exact same way, only letting go when the hot water and your shaking legs gave out simultaneously. 

Like you can sense his smugness, you look back at him. You don’t call him out the way he expects. Instead, you smile sheepishly. “It’s bleeding, isn’t it?”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “It’s what?” Frantically, his wide eyes dart across your exposed skin for some injury he must’ve missed. Something he must’ve caused. There are old scars, sure, but nothing fresh to tip him off. “Is what — ?”

“The dye!” You amend quickly, gesturing over your shoulder. 

This clears up his panic but not his confusion. 

Chuckling softly, you turn back around with a shake of your head and continue your steps towards the dresser at the far side of your room. Your explanation continues as you go. 

There’s no condescension in your expression or tone  — there never is — but Hyunjin thinks it’d be warranted. You know more than he could ever hope to about a million different things, all of which he’d willingly pay tuition costs to learn about.

It’s simple, it’s sweet, and it’s effective. 

“Hot water opens up the cuticle of the strand and flushes the color out. Red molecules don’t penetrate as deeply — they’re the biggest — so they wash out super easily, unfortunately.”

You frown again and tug open the middle drawer, mumbling about your poor white towels while you root through your limited selection of clothing.

He’s so fond of you that he really might drop dead, so he jokes his way around it, doesn’t speak the quiet part out loud.

“Shit. You spoil me, Professor.” Hyunjin whistles, genuinely impressed and only slightly devilish. The unexpected noise prompts you to look up at him again with startled eyes. “First, the shower sex, now a chemistry lesson —”

He has to cut himself off to catch the sweatpants you hurl at him. The interruption doesn’t wipe the teasing look off his face, though; and it certainly doesn’t distract from the flustered look on yours. You try like hell to hide his effect on you, but it only gets worse when he swaps out the towel hanging low on his hips for the clothes you’ve given him.

After shooting you an impish grin, Hyunjin twirls around, if only for the split second it takes him to drop himself into your bed. And fuck, just like every other time, he wonders how either of you ever manage to leave it. Here in your sheets, it’s all weightless — your joint baggage, the world’s expectations, the thousand things neither one of you can say out loud.

“Must be sore from the drive,” you hum. “Tired, too.”

Hyunjin can’t remember a time when he wasn’t.

The urge he feels to close his eyes and bury his face in pillows that smell like you is overwhelming. That familiar floral perfume of yours calms him so quickly and completely that he could fall asleep in an instant. Really, that’s exactly what he’d do if the clock wasn’t running, but it is, and he knows better than to waste the limited time he gets to spend staring up at you.

So, he just says, “I’ve never felt better,” because all of these things can be true at once.

You’re too focused to notice him watching you, but Hyunjin doesn’t mind. While you rummage around for the shorts that pair with your short-sleeved, button-up pajama top, he commits the current state of you to memory. 

It feels like a moral duty, filling up his brain with as many mental snapshots as possible. After all, this version of you will be gone the next time he sees you. You and all your iterations deserve to be remembered, even if Hyunjin is the only one alive who can do it. Unfortunately, there’s a blank space in his scrapbook. A piece of your story he’ll never be able to speak to, and it comes right at the start of it.

One of fate’s cruelest twists is that he didn’t get to meet you — the original, anyways — before your survival became contingent on reinvention. By the time he stumbled into your life, you’d already done your best to destroy all the evidence of who you used to be; burned up your past with a box of matches until no trace was left. 

And even if photos did still exist of who you used to be, it’d be too dangerous for you to possess them. For over a year now, you’ve been running from your past, hopping from city to city and modifying your appearance with every move.

As physically and mentally taxing as those procedures must be, they’re necessary. A single slip-up would cash in that price on your head. Considering the role you used to occupy, that would be a massive payout. It’s a safe assumption to make that the interest only compounds further with every day you evade them.

To Hyunjin’s knowledge, you’re the only Ulsan defector to last this long on the outside. It’s virtually impossible for ex-employees to escape at all with their memories still intact; even less likely that they’ll evade the bounty hunters that come next. After that, it’s only a matter of time — not if, but when they’re discovered — until Ulsan’s retention team comes calling. Their luck runs out then, if they ever had any to begin with. 

Worse, their subsequent deaths aren’t even a blip on the general public’s radar.

Absolutely nobody bats a fucking eye at deaths by “natural causes”. And thanks to iron-clad non-disclosure agreements, nobody knows that the trail of corpses are connected in the first place. By design, the string that ties their bodies back to a common employer is invisible.

Knowing what life would be like otherwise, most don’t even attempt to flee. Understandably, they give in to the cleanse when their employment is terminated, one way or another. They live the rest of their lives without so much of an echo of their time at Ulsan.

You’ve been slipping him intel about the corporate experience since he met you, but Hyunjin has never asked about yours. Speaking any of it out loud feels like a summoning spell. Like saying that name in the mirror three times will invite your demons in.

“I miss the blue, I think.”

Hyunjin props himself up on his elbow, frowning. You finish buttoning that soft, silk top of yours and shuffle over to join him, melting into his side the second your body slips under the comforter. 

He counters, “The red looks just as good,” and kisses the top of your head to emphasize his point. 

You wiggle enough to look up at him with your nose scrunched thoughtfully. “I thought you liked the black best.”

This time, there’s a tiny bit of crookedness in the bridge of your nose like it’s been broken before and didn’t quite heal right. That attention to detail — creating lived-in features that haven’t actually been lived in — is probably why you’ve lasted this long. Anyone else that goes under the knife as often as you tends to seek perfection, not realism. 

Funny how the choice that sets you apart is what lets you blend in.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, looks you dead in your newly hazel eyes, and he says nothing about the fact that they were most recently green. “I like them all best.”

This, like any compliment, immediately makes you shy. Before he can blink, your face is buried in the crook of his neck, warming him from the outside in. You mumble something against his skin that he can’t quite catch. You must know it, too, because you reposition yourself to free up your mouth.

“You’ve finally stopped shivering,” you note before leaving a solitary, soft kiss on the side of his throat. 

He nods to the best of his ability. “Sufficiently thawed.”

You glance up at him at the same moment that he looks down at you. It’s written all over your face — don’t you dare — but Hyunjin always does, doesn’t he? And he always will, so long as your eyes keep going wide like this.

“Can’t say it was the steam that did it, though. I think you fucked the chill right out of me.”

The tiny groan you let go of gets lost under the playful smack of your hand against his chest. You put no pressure behind it whatsoever — he didn’t feel a thing — but he gasps, nonetheless. His head crashes back against the pillows; his eyes fall shut. And because he’s a little shit before he is anything else, he goes slack-jawed, tongue hanging limply from the corner of his mouth.

“You might be the most dramatic person that’s ever lived. You know that, right?”

His reply comes like a death rattle. It’s automatic, it’s ominous, and there’s no taking it back now:

“Truly unfortunate that you have to be loved by me, of all people.”

That admission has been a long time coming, but Hyunjin has tried to hold it back for the same reason you have. For the same reason you don’t say it back now, even though he feels it seep into every other word. Calling this what it is — love — is a promise neither one of you can keep. 

It’s the worst thing he could’ve said to you because he can’t act on it; and it might be the worst thing you’ve ever heard, so you just return to your spot, nuzzled into his neck.

“Tell me what I’ve missed.” You deflect, lips tickling against the spot just below his ear. “What are you all up to?”

Hyunjin used to wonder why you wanted to know every mundane detail about his and his comrades’ daily lives — boredom with your own or genuine interest? Now, he doesn’t bother splitting hairs. It’s both, and he has no fucking business passing judgment. Without a community of your own, you deserve whatever pieces of his that he can give.

“Well,” Hyunjin sighs, fingertips drawing nonsense shapes on your back. With his prints burned off, they glide especially smoothly over the silky fabric of your pajama top. Yet another bonus. “Got some new blood right after I saw you last. One of them was a childhood friend of Felix’s, and she’s — uhh — a little rough around the edges.”

Your little chuckle makes him shiver.

“He loves her, though — like, truly, madly, deeply loves her — so, I think he’s uniquely capable of refining her enough to be useful.” He pauses for a moment to consider whether or not he wants to say it. In the end, he can’t stop himself. “It’s nice to see him happy. That shit’s so rare, living the way we do. He deserves it.”

“Hyunjin, so do you.”

This time, he doesn’t say what he wants to. 

He doesn't ask you to run away with him, knowing damn well that it’s even more dangerous to try than to stay. Neither of you would willingly leave loose ends, anyway. There’s too much left to be done, and all of it comes before his own happiness. It always has.

He doesn’t ask you to come back with him, either.  As much as he wants to offer up the Black Screen to keep you safe, there’s no guarantee that they could. You’d only turn him down if he tried, remind him that your proximity makes the target on their heads even bigger. Hyunjin suspects that this isn’t your only fear, however. 

Trust is a luxury you can’t afford; and it’d cost a lot of it for an ex-corp to cross the line in the sand. If you did, you’d be walking into a collective hell-bent on destroying the entity you used to associate with — into a factory full of mercenary anarchists, not many of whom make the best listeners. Your story might fall on deaf ears; or worse, breed suspicion about your motives.

It’s all fucked, top to bottom.

After another pause, Hyunjin responds with a truth so unattainable that it feels like a lie. “Someday,” he murmurs. “When this is all over.”

If that time ever comes.

“Are you close?” Your question surprises him because you almost sound hopeful, which isn’t a word he’d ever previously thought to associate with either of you. You mistake his stunned silence for misunderstanding, so you clarify, “To a plan, I guess.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say next, so he takes your hand from where it rests on his stomach and pulls it up to his lips. They brush over your knuckles slowly, a failed attempt to avoid the inevitable.

He’s never — not once — asked you about Ulsan. It’s the last thing he wants to do, tearing away from the limited time he gets to exist with you out of context, but he can’t think of any other way around it now. 

What if this is the only way to someday?

When he stalls, you excavate yourself from his side and prop yourself up on one elbow to assess him. It’s more concern than anything else, the gentle way in which you look at him. If only it didn’t make him feel more guilty. If only it didn’t cause his question to stick in his throat on its way out, forcing him to clear it.

“Have you ever heard of the Bliss Beta?” 

It must stun you to hear it because you freeze solid. 

Fuck. 

He shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t have brought it up, should’ve kept his fucking mouth shut, but it only spills out faster:

“Ulsan is running some clandestine clinical trials for something called the Bliss Beta. It’s —”

“— I know what it is,” you interrupt quietly.

“You do?”

You pause. There’s something unreadable in your expression that he’d normally guess after; you don’t give him the opportunity. You state it slowly. Cautiously. “I made it.”

Hyunjin is the frozen one now.

If he could make himself move, he might leave and never look back. But some persistent part of him refuses to run, refuses to accept that you truly had anything to do with the horror show wreaking havoc in neighborhoods just like this one. 

If you did — if Hyunjin can force himself to swallow that truth — then he may as well fall off the grid right here and now. There would be no coming back from that, not for him.

Please tell me you’re still the person I think you are.

“It’s also what made me leave,” you explain softly. “What they wanted to do with it, I mean.” 

Hyunjin’s hand is still limp around yours, so you take yours back into your lap. For a moment, you say nothing, only fidgeting with the rings around your fingers. When you finally do speak, your voice is so quiet that he has to strain to hear it, even sitting as close to you as he is. 

“Ulsan was putting all its resources into cyberware, but none into addressing the side-effects. I was naive enough to think that I could change that.” You shake your head, letting out a humorless laugh. “I applied in the first place because I wanted to find a way to treat cyberpsychosis. All of these people are replacing every single part of their biological bodies with extremely powerful, inorganic materials…”

Your voice trails off at the end as a grimace takes over. Even though your features are different now, that subdued look of utter hopelessness in your eyes is the same. He could pick it out of a lineup if he had to.

“It’s such a slippery slope, Hyunjin.” You exhale, voice tinged with a sadness he can’t fully understand. “When you fuck with a person’s reality to that extent, that recklessly, and add in the kind of omnipotence that comes with all of these modifications... They lose themselves in it.”

The sort of people you’re talking about feature heavily on the news due to the horrendous acts of violence they’re caught committing, but no network dares to show the kind of empathy for them that you currently are. They only show the squads of WraithCo. goons it takes to neutralize them — a sterile, media term for “shot like a dog in the street”. Try as he might, Hyunjin can’t recall a single one of these stories that doesn’t end in state-sanctioned murder.

He looks up from your hands in your lap to your face, seemingly catching you by surprise. To his surprise, your eyes are swimming. 

In all the time he’s known you, you’ve never cried — not about the state of the world or the shitty cards you’ve been dealt, time and time again. Until now, Hyunjin wasn’t sure if you could cry. It always seemed safe to assume that you’d either given up or forgotten how. Modified your way around the process, maybe. Cut the flow to the faucet in the course of your renovations.

Reflexively, he takes your hand back in his and squeezes once to ground you. Maybe it’s stupid, but he prays that some part of you will light up the way it normally does when you have the opportunity to educate him about something new. 

His favorite teacher, the best there is.

“What did you design, Professor?” Hyunjin asks.

Please work.

You crack the world’s tiniest smile at the nickname — one you’ve always rolled your eyes at — and it’s enough for him. There’s a sliver of excitement in your voice again, too. 

Proof of life.

“So…” You suck in a breath, like you’ll miss more than a few as you ramble. “The problem is mechanical, even if it presents as psychiatric, right? You can’t rely on psychotropic medication to soothe a brain that’s gone haywire in a literal sense. The solution is hidden within the problem itself, you know?”

You pause and glance over at him for some confirmation that he’s following. He’s doing his fucking best, but this shit is so far outside of his wheelhouse. You take the borderline grimace he gives you and run with it, gesturing wildly with your free hand while you talk.

“I designed a chip to be inserted here —” You reach over and run your fingertip over the small, titanium datashard slot behind his right ear. 

Most people use this port to store and share data in the same way its distant predecessor — the universal serial bus — was used, generations ago. Having started out as a military exclusive, this tech weaved its way into the corporate sectors following the war. From there, it trickled down to civilian populations, who primarily use it for media consumption.

Of course, the run-off always lands in the gutter. Edge runners and their neighbors in the underbelly swap maps, schematics, and the like, passing intel from person to person without leaving an easily discoverable paper trail. Money, too, that’ll never cross paths with a bank or an audit.

Their more tech-literate counterparts — net runners and back alley doctors, for example — pad their ill-gotten income by peddling programmed datashards. Ones that enhance hacking capabilities or bolster combat prowess, as if the recipient is main-lining skills; no practice necessary. 

Hyunjin, to the contrary, doesn’t use his shard slot at all. He’s never been adept at this tech shit, and he can’t be fucking bothered to learn.

“— with the goal of de-stimulating the frontal lobe.” You move your hand to brush your fingertips gently across his forehead. 

Your touch is gone too soon. 

Pausing for a moment, your shoulders and the corners of your mouth droop downwards. Dejected, you sound almost apologetic when you eventually say, “Not a perfect fix, by any means. I just figured that if you can mute some of the noise that’s overriding these people’s true personalities, you can negate the impulse to —”

“— Peel people apart like perilla leaves,” Hyunjin mutters darkly. He’s nowhere near as tactful as you are, so he sees no use in trying. “And if they’re not not doing that, then it’s less likely that —”

Looking now at him, you chirp, “The last thing they see in this life is their own brain smeared on the sidewalk, yes.”

Hyunjin stares at you with his jaw hanging open, absolutely shaken to his core that something like that, something he would say, just came out of your mouth. Flabbergasted is too weak a word; his whole goddamn world has been upended. And he doesn’t know or care what it says about him as a person that he wants to kiss you more now than he ever has before.

Seemingly unaware of the way you just broke his brain, your gaze shifts back down to your joined hands. You go quiet again, smile slipping away as you fade in real time. He fucking hates it. Hates that reality always finds a way to creep back in, even though it’s never once been welcome here. 

It’s heavy. 

It hurts.

“It could’ve been great.”

Hyunjin knows you’re talking about your project, but that’s not all he hears. 

You could’ve been great if this world wasn’t anything like it is. Instead, your genius is tucked away in one shithole apartment after another. 

You could’ve been great together, but the time and place are all wrong. 

It all could’ve been great, but it isn’t.

He’s at a loss for words now, so he simply nods.

“I don’t know what I expected, signing on to work for Nam Yeongsun,” you admit quietly. “I don’t know why I thought he’d be any different than the rest of them.”

Them, meaning the other fundamentalist, venture capitalists hiding democracy behind a paywall. 

Your assessment is mostly correct. The only thing that sets Ulsan’s Chief Executive Officer apart is his mastery of dog-whistle politics. Charming demagogue that he is, he’s the best at what he does — subtly reinforcing prejudices that dwell below the surface.

“He took what I created and perverted it.” 

Hyunjin’s no stranger to your fiercely passionate side, but he’s never seen a simmering rage quite like this one. 

You spit it out like it’s poison: “Nam is trying to eradicate what he deems to be unproductive traits, as if you can bug fix poverty and addiction.”

A wave of nausea crashes over Hyunjin so forcefully that his palms start to sweat.

The targeted advertisements in low-income areas.  

The promise of cash for participation without any explanation.

Oh, fuck.

“He’s hijacking people,” Hyunjin croaks, struggling to breathe. “That thing you said about the frontal lobe,” he mutters before swallowing hard. “They’re losing themselves, aren’t they?”

“I didn’t think it was possible.” The tears in your eyes threaten to spill over. You clear your throat, but it doesn’t make a difference; your voice still shakes, trembling alongside your hands. “But if they’ve made it all the way to human trials, that means they’ve actually figured out a way to do it.”

Hyunjin is torn between wanting to scream, faint, and vomit. None of them could adequately purge him of the gnawing sense of doom that swirls in his gut; there’s no quick fix, if a fix even exists at all.

But the boulder is already flying downhill at breakneck speed, and he can’t stop it. Throwing his body in front of it won’t make a difference. That feeling of abject helplessness only swells when you glance at him sideways and up the ante.

“Hyunjin, that’s not the worst of it.”

He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to ask and shoulder the burden of knowing, but refusing to bear witness to the truth is what made this state the way it is. Hyunjin doesn’t have a choice.

“What could possibly be worse than that?”

“Nam’s charge has always been to eradicate societal ills. He wants abstention, whether it’s drugs or antisocial behavior — forced, if it can’t be willful.” Your voice gets weaker, the more you say, but you don’t stop. “If he really found a way to dig his fingers into the brains of undesirable people, he’ll never stop at one form of abstinence.”

“You're talking about eugenics, right?” He struggles to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

“If this beta makes it out of the trial phase, I’m talking about classicide.”

The ride back to the compound breaks Hyunjin’s heart every time he has to make it. With how tight he grips the handlebars now, his fingers might break, too, but he doesn’t give a shit. All he can think about is the small, metal datashard in his pocket, and the look on your face when you’d handed it to him.

“You have to give this to Spider, Hyunjin. Nobody else. Do you understand?”

Every part of that exchange had been a plea. You’d pulled the tech out of a locked box in your nightstand and transferred it to his palm with a desperation in your eyes that he’d never seen before — from anyone. You’d closed his fingers around it and kept your hands over his, holding him tight, and he made the mistake of asking why.

In hindsight, Hyunjin wishes he hadn’t.

“The encryption. If someone doesn’t peel back the security correctly, layer by layer, it’ll flag your location.”

If he’d kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t have to know why you clung to him the way that you did, looking at him like it was the last time you’d ever get to do it.

“Everything I know about the beta is on that shard — the program, the lab’s coordinates, its security, and its vulnerabilities.” 

Your voice broke then. 

“They’ll know the source of the information as soon as you access it, but they cannot find out where you are when you do.”

When he felt the weight of your words, Hyunjin refused to accept them for what they were: a sacrifice. Ulsan’s retention team, who currently has no idea you’re still in the peninsula — still alive — will tear the New Republic apart to find you, and when they do —

He kept repeating that there had to be another way to prevent this rollout, that he’d find one, he promised; but you touched his cheek, and he knew:

The only way to Ulsan is through you.

On his way out the door, you’d stopped him with one hand around his wrist. Kissed him hard, cheeks tear-stained, and tried your best to get the rest out through a tightening throat.

“Hyunjin,” you’d whispered, then your voice trailed off. 

All the time you’d both spent swallowing it down made it too difficult to vocalize, but Hyunjin still heard it in all that quiet. He took the baton from you then, speaking just as softly, just as sure. “I know,” he promised. “I love you, too.”

And now, as he races back to the compound with your death sentence in his pocket, Hyunjin knows something else for certain:

When you’re gone, you’ll haunt him, too.

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

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[ladyloveandjustice]

Spring 2024 Anime Overview: Train to the End of the World and Tonari no Yokai-san

Who knows if poor Whisper Me a Love Song (a cute yuri anime about a girl band... with dire animation conditions so it's currently stuck on episode 10 with the last two episodes delayed indefinitely) is ever going to finish, but here’s some my first post reviewing the rest of what I watched.

Delicious in Dungeon continued to kill it with the second half of the season, kicking into high gear and introducing cranky catgirls, but you can see my general thoughts on the show here.

Train to the End of the World

I love bizarre anime, especially bizarre anime starring loveable weird girls, and Train absolutely delivers.

 A teenage girl named Yoka is bullied by a slimy businessman into pushing a button that activates the 7G cellular network across Japan, but said network warps and changes Japan completely, having bizarre effects on the citizens. For example, all the adults in Yoka's hometown have been transformed into animals and are starting to act like animals.

Shizuru is Yoka's best friend, and she said some seriously nasty things to Yoka before her friend left town. Yoka's been missing ever since the 7G incident and Shizuru is desperate to find her and apologize. So when she sees a picture showing Yoka in Ikebukuro, she decides to drive a train to find her, and her friends Reimi, Akira, Nadeshiko, and also her dog come along. As they travel across the warped Japan, they face many weird encounters and obstacles.

Train to the End of the World is greatly entertaining, as we see the girls encounter nihiists with mushrooms growing out of their heads, screaming goatmen that ram into the train and even zombies on their journey. The dialogue is snappy, and the girls all have a fun personalities. As a lover of girls doing silly violence, I also adored how everyone besides Akira (who is the smart one) has ridiculous combat skills, with Shizuru having her own form of martial art, Reimi being physically unstoppable when she's mad, and Nadeshiko might come off as the ladylike bow and error wielder...but actually she also can beat the shit out of people with said bow as a blunt object. It's fun to watch them go wild.

An example of how ridiculous the show can get is the encounter with the zombies--the absolutely bizarre logic is that since zombies are supposed to be dead to all sensation, arousal will make them blow up. Instead of the girls acting sexy to arouse them like most anime would do, they just say dirty words, and Akira recites a whole paragraph from Lady Chatterley's Lover that she apparently memorized, and they sing a hilariously bawdy folk song. This episode DOES contain the show's biggest moment of sexualizing the teenage girls though- a hyper detailed panty shot that was super jarring considering the show avoided fanservice before then.

And the next episode had Nadeshiko forced to don a somewhat skimpy outfit. Those are the only two instances of fanservice, but that episode also had a joke where this character in this children's cartoon come to life's entire gimmick was that she was suicidal. It was probably meant to be "lol look how inappropriate this would be for children" but it still felt fairly mean spirited at times.

Despite those hiccups to watch out for, the anime works because it never forgets it's core theme or friendship--the relationships between the girls are developed at a good pace, and Shizuru's guilt over what she did to Yoka is explored well too. It's not just a ridiculous anime, it has a heart too. So if an anime where a girl punches a bear in the face and arms herself with vegetables appeals to you…check it out!

Tonari No Yokai-san

Tonari no Yokai-san takes place in a world where yokai have integrated into human society. The central characters are Buchio, a cat who became a nekomata after living to twenty, and Jiro, a crow tengu who is close friends with a little girl he calls Mu-chan.

This is a very sweet, gentle series that has some heartwrenching and dark undertones occasionally.  Mu’s father has been lost to an eerie void, and a lot of the stories focus on grief. The immediate comparison tone and content-wise is Natsume’s Book of Friends, but it distinguishes itself by presenting a world where yokai are very much part of society, to the point where they have to do paperwork  and pay taxes. (There was also a confirmation that one character is bisexual when his backstory involves dating a guy yokai, so that was nice, especially since he's currently in a relationship with a car yokai that's probably meant to be romantic? Yes I said car yokai it is his car.)

There’s also some sci-fi elements mixed in with alternate timelines and what not. I think these elements could be integrated more smoothly, but they are pretty novel. It’s a really solid series.

I do love stories about yokai and I thought it was enjoyable and touching, but it didn’t rock my world the way I wanted it to…it might be that it followed too many characters at once so I couldn’t dig into any of them the way I really wanted to. Still, it’s a sweet, tender and pleasant watch, I definitely rec it.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

"Creator Reforged" is (chef's kiss) concise and yet Exactly What It Says On The Tin lmao, big brain! Poor Sucrose in Ch7 tho: she must be traumatised too, for lack of better description.

Oh oh! May I send an ask for the Follower Special? How would the acolytes react to a creator who crochets/knits/sews them various clothes and accessories? I feel like Childe would appreciate (and definitely smugly show off) any scarves or coats you make him lmao??? Liyue has nobles and society stuff, so maybe when Ningguang or the other Qixing wear trinkets/shawls that the Creator made, there'd be similar clothes in fashion? Inazuma and Sumeru seem pretty big on textiles (Silk, Cotton, maybe Wool/Fur?) so would they be smug at their textiles being featured in some of the creator's works??

Also, just a last thing: your writing style ABSOLUTELY gives off shounen light novel vibes. It's honestly perfect for Genshin, imo.

Yeah, no one in that situation is really in their best mind at that point. Albedo, Sucrose, and the reader are all likely not thinking straight. (Hopefully going to get back to work on it soon...)

And thank you for the compliment! I'm honestly not all that familiar with shounen light novels, but I hope that the eldritch/weird moments that undergird party of my writing don't distract too hard.

A/N: Getting back on the wagon. ...And I let myself stray to an adjacent yet (in my opinion) equally interesting version of the Creator. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7k

CW: None?

Masterpost

taglist @iyohme

The night in Liyue was young. Though the furthest edge of the sky still wore the faintest remnant of the day’s glory, the rest of the sky glammered with pearlescent stars, crowned with a nearly full moon, and bounded in the north where an azure comet tugged at the sky as it fell.

Far below these celestial sights, the opulent city of Liyue slumbered, nestled between its towering mountains and perched beside the tranquil sea. Uncountable lanterns burned quiet and low, illuminating the streets just enough so the guards could patrol yet low enough to allow the citizens to rest.

Though the thousand hands of the industrious city lay low, not all of the city was asleep. In the city’s main hall, where the highest matters of state and commerce were conducted by words and contracts, through coins and goods, by bribes and threats, different kinds of activity were taking place. Heads of states, merchants, nobles, and the like from nearby Sumeru, Inazuma, Fontaine, and a few from even further afield, met and socialized with each other. They forged and renewed acquaintanceships, sought new avenues of commerce and trade, discussed and reviewed new discoveries and theories.

The event there was in full swing. Chandeliers with ornate carvings in Cor Lapis diffused amber light across the whole room. People clustered around the room, conversations flowing as freely as the drinks. The front of the hall was dominated by a stained glass relief of the Creator, The Forge of Days. Though no light filtered in through the myriad colors, the veiled image of Her figure seemed to glow with its own glorious light.

Gathered at the front of the room were piles of gifts and offerings. In years past, they would have been iron and copper, silver and gold, crystals with shimmering hues and gems with an unfathomably deep color.

But recently, their Creator had undergone a change of hobbies. The hands of The Forge rarely sat idle, but the items She created would change with her interests. For months, Her hammer and tongs sat idle, Her billows quiet, and Her fires cold. She’d found a new craft to occupy Her hands for a while, and the people followed Her whims.

A different bounty had been gathered tonight at her feet: bolts of cloth in all kinds of dyes and textures, spools of thread in every color imaginable, skeins of yarn that seemed to glimmer with gold spun into their material. These, the people hoped, would gather Her attention and affection enough to be worthy of receiving a gift from Her in turn. Though She chafed at formalities and ceremonies, these She would bear to see Her creations given.

Tonight, there was no shortage of people gathered to show off the artifacts that She had personally forged, crafted, or spun and then given so generously. It was hard to miss the heads of state and important nobles- Ningguang was garbed with plenty of jewelry of gold and amber and topaz. Keqing kept at her side, displayed prominently, a sword forged of impossibly sharp steel and inlaid with awe-inspiring arrangements of Inazuman amethyst.

Few were arrayed so brilliantly as them, but one person stood taller and prouder than both. In the middle of a group of weary and exasperated onlookers, a peculiar Snezhnyy man bragged about and paraded off his new gift. Tartaglia was not much loved by the people of Liyue- connections to the Fatui tended to do that- but showing off the new turquoise scarf generously pooled around his shoulders, studded with constellations of pearl stars, strained the patience of most.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Afong?” Tartaglia chided a merchant who finally had enough of him and tried to leave, “Can’t stand the sight of someone who has one of Her new styles? What do you have, just a tarnished, old bracelet? I think She’d be embarrassed to see that old thing in public! It’s probably for the best that She tosses that dull thing back into the furnace and starts over from scratch.”

A small, timid voice came up behind him, “Tartaglia, isn’t that enough?” He spun on his heel to see who spoke up, the half-adeptus Ganyu. She was carrying a tray of food in her arms which clearly had a wide selection. “You’re going too far with what you’re saying.”

“Listen, Цилинь,” Childe plucked one of the morsels from her tray, something skewered on a wooden pick, “talk to me when Her Grace decides to visit you with something noteworthy. I can tell,” he gestured down to the arm he could see, “that She gave you some pity. I remember hearing about that meager ring She made, Her last product before turning her sights to Her new craft.” He eyed the ring set with an aquamarine gem, then slid his gaze to what sat on her wrist. “But I didn’t hear about that.”

A dainty, delicate work of lace lay barely hidden under her sleeve, like a fine layer of ice had been worked around her wrist. While many would merely overlook it, it contained many curious details the likes of which would only be seen with Her handiwork- notably, the centerpiece of it was a recreation of Ganyu’s vision- frame, cryo symbol, even the subtle cracks and chips were represented through Her handiwork.

“The Forge of Days generously gifted it to me.”

“An early work of hers, probably. Most likely, she made it to familiarize herself with the craft, getting the early failures out of her system.”

“Did Her Diligence make a single weapon for you?”

There was a momentary flash of anger on his face- the first anyone had seen that night. It was quickly gone, but Ganyu had turned and left before she could notice. She heard another conversation haltingly spin up as she walked away, before fading into the noises of the party.

Ganyu left the party, following a familiar path of hallways as the sounds behind her began to become muddled and indistinct under the weight of their echoes. She turned a few corners, passing various shrines placed to honor and venerate the Adepti, mostly, but also the other benevolent beings who shared the region with the city and who helped guide its people in the past. Designed to impress and show off Liyue’s splendor like the main hall, there was little expense spared for these collections as well.

She slowed, then came to a stop. She was nearly on the other side of the building from the main hall, and her surroundings looked like it. This space was dominated by a large door formed of wood and metal, something that looked more at home in the industrial sections of the city, not here among the shrines. The walls and floor here were dirty- darkened soot seemed to almost grow on any available surface and the air was thick with the smell of earth and fire.

To a place built to celebrate the divine and the supernatural beasts that crowned this corner of the earth, this seemed wildly out of place. But Ganyu, among other important people in Liyue’s governing bodies, knew the truth of this location.

Ganyu balanced her tray on one hand and reached out to one of the enormous door handles. It took a bit of force, but the doors began gliding open, ethereally and unearthly quiet. She passed through the doors and began descending the stairs below, each one decorated with a different pattern of golden crystals that glowed in a circle around anyone walking down them. To Ganyu, it looked like the steps were being cast from the darkness just steps ahead of her as she descended. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she heard the doors behind her gently close by themselves, a soft but unmistakable noise through the space she just entered.

And what a space it was.

Lit by larger clusters embedded in the walls, not too dissimilar to those on the stairs, the room was a crafter’s dream. Uncountable machines of industry filled the space, of every type and make, most repaired by hand after their user damaged them from overuse or overapplication of force. They were distributed about the room by trade- over there sat the forge, its bellows quiet and the stockpiles of coal, iron, silver, gold, and countless other metals full and ready; there rested every tool one needed to hew art and purpose from any stock of lumber one chose; there rested 

And through the middle of it all, and under the low dais in the center, ran a stream, to quench and cool the products of the forge, to supply the (currently disengaged) mechanisms with power.

And sitting there on that dais, bathed in light from a ring of crystals suspended over Her head, surrounded by an impressive array of tools and stock of materials all at Her fingertips, the Creator moved with impressive speed. Her hands flew from one movement to the next, a blindingly fast dance between Her fingers, the tools, and the dress that She was weaving on the mannequin in front of Her.

Ganyu set the tray down on a nearby table that wasn’t totally overrun with supplies and materials, pushing a few bolts of cloth out of the way. She carefully stepped through a field of bobbins, careful not to upset or step on any. As she approached the Creator, she wondered if She had actually noticed her. “Pardon?” She tried to get Her attention, stretching a hand out to Her shoulder. “Burning Forge–?”

The Forge of Days suddenly snapped out of the way, Her head whirling around to glare at Ganyu, Her eyes burning a brilliant yellow-white from the focus on Her activity. Her glare was uncomforting on the best of days, but when She wielded it like this, Ganyu could almost feel the heat of the forge pouring on, through, and around her. She could feel some of her hair begin to singe.

Ganyu took a step back, covering her face. “M-My apologies! Ningguang only wanted me to check on You!” The heat began to bleed away from her, quickly dropping to a simmering heat. When Ganyu risked a glance, she found Her back at Her craft, continuing to weave like She hadn’t been interrupted. “I wanted to check in on you as well. I know it’s quiet down here, and I know you don’t like crowds–”

Her Industriousness made a noise of frustration as she pulled the last of the yarn taut. She spun in place, planting the hook in the dress, then grabbed a plain knife and walking (at a speed that should have been called running) over to a spinning wheel. She began gathering up Her hair in large handfuls, then cutting them off with quick, clean cuts of the knife.

As quickly as She had turned away from Ganyu, the heat had faded away; only the memory of the warmth remained. Ganyu winced to see Her shear so much of Her hair off so carelessly, but she knew there was a method behind Her actions. As She stopped in front of the spinning wheel, She set the knife aside and began turning the spinning wheel, arcs of magical light started being cast from it as it spun faster and faster. When the arcs began to connect into circles, She fed Her hairs into it one at a time, and began winding the resulting golden thread around an empty bobbin.

Ganyu took the moment to look the dress over now that the Weaver of Fates was away from it. The beautiful garment looked like it was painstakingly constructed- the various materials made it look like it was spun from the condensed light that shimmered over Liyue harbor every morning, the angles and sections of construction chosen to mesh with each other so seamlessly. With how She had woven it all together, it felt like the dress was creating itself, like it was destined to simply be.

Thinking back to the excruciating minutiae of measurements that She had made of her body (after she found the demand from her Creator carved on a slab of iron which was unceremoniously deposited on her working desk…), part of her hoped that it would turn out this beautiful.

As she looked back at the spinning wheel, she caught The Forge feeding the last of her liberated hairs into the wheel and loading the last of the thread onto an overloaded bobbin. She snapped it up in one hand and turned back to the mannequin to continue her work.

It was now or never. Her Industriousness hated being interrupted.

“Your Grace?” Ganyu started speaking before She could set down the bobbin. “I was just thinking about you. I know you don’t like social events, and they’d prepared so much for the party- I thought you’d appreciate me bringing you a sample of what they had.” Ganyu began talking faster as she started threading the needle. “I-I made sure to grab some of your favorites as well, and I wanted to…”

She eventually stopped herself. If Her Unending Warmth wasn’t interested in something, it was basically guaranteed to be a futile struggle to get Her to cooperate. None in all Teyvat could match Her strength and endurance, let alone Her abject stubbornness.

Ganyu turned to leave. “I… I should go. I should see if they need me upstairs again. I’ll–” She barely took a few steps before suddenly being stopped. Turning around, she saw that the Creator had lunged towards her to grab on to her, Her incredibly strong and calloused grip, able to crush stone and deform iron, gently but firmly wrapped around her arm.

She looked up and saw The Forge’s face, one that was so used to its grim and steadfast glare that its current one, creased with worry, almost looked unfamiliar. The light in Her eyes was still bright, but had cooled to an orange glow.

“…Stay.”

The single word croaked from Her throat, gravely and unclear from disuse. It was incredibly rare for Her to speak- it was said that lifetimes could come and go without her making so much as a single utterance.

“–! …Alright, I’ll stay here with you.”

Her Grace let go of her breath and the room seemed to warm. She released Her grip on Ganyu, who slipped off to find two chairs that could easily be decluttered and dragged over to the table.

“…For all the work Your Industriousness does, I’m surprised You don’t do more to keep things tidy down here.” She moved an armful of cloth up onto a table, where it likely would be a hazard later on. “But I’m sure no one complains because they just like it when You make things on time.” She struggled to maneuver herself and the chairs around all the other clutter, but Her Grace managed to move through it with surprising, well, grace.

“There.” Ganyu set the two chairs down and it wasn’t long after She sat that She popped the lid off the tray and grabbed two different treats, offering the smaller one to her. She gave Her a light punch on the shoulder (that likely only hurt herself) then accepted it. After She started biting into the delicacy, Ganyu saw the light in Her eyes had dimmed further into a reddish glow, the natural steel gray beginning to show through near Her pupils.

The Forge labored many long hours to hone Her craft and produce all kinds of goods. Ganyu figured it was best to let Her rest for a while.

[lilareviewsbooks]

4 SFF Books For (Humanities) Nerds

Hey guys! I know I promised this like, last year, but life got in the way :( But now I can finally present to you - my list of books for humanities nerds!

To put it simply, these are books I think broach topics that are close to the humanities nerds' interests - sociology, history, art, anthropology, political sciences... And sure, they could be considered "boring", but if you're into the humanities - you'll have a ball with them! (and, of course, anyone can enjoy these!)

The Goblin Emperor, by Katherine Addison

5 stars | 446 pages | standalone, but there are spin-offs | queer side character

This is the book that spurred this list, so, if you want a longer review, I have it on my blog. But suffice it to say that The Goblin Emperor is a fairly long and detailed account of what happens in the court of a country of elves when the youngest, unfavoured and half-goblin son of the king ascends the throne. This book is masterful. It seemlessly weaves in personal and political concerns as we follow Maia, the newly crowned emperor. The writing style is slow - we follow the emperor's every day life. We are with him when he rises in the morning until when he wakes up. It waits for something to happen, and is quiet and slow. It's absolutely delightful: despite his politicking, Maia is mostly and more ardently concerned with kindness. He wants to treat people fairly. This not only makes for a sweet main character, it also means the book is a fascinating character study, as well as an incredible feat of world-building. I think nerds will enjoy its slow and traquil pace, its dedication to politics, language and customs of this world and its charming main character.

A Memory Called Empire, by Arkady Martine

5 stars | 462 pages | completed duology | queer main characters

For a sci-fi twist, I think A Memory Called Empire is the way to go. The duology follows Mahit, a citizen of a small satellite of the Teixcalaan Empire, who is chosen as the next ambassador for her home. She must journey to the capital with a very important mission - find out why her predecessor mysteriously disappeared. Again, what there is to enjoy here is lush, expansive world-building. The Teixcalaani feel so, so real. Every little detail was thought of, from their language to their smiles. It's truly impressive, and the prose, I remember, is also beautiful, making these details pop out even more. This is also incredibly political, as Mahit descends into the belly of the beast, so to speak, in search of answers. But it is framed by a pretty straight-foward murder mystery, which might be fun for people used to mystery stories. And the second book broaches first contact! - it's just so much fun! I also have a longer review for this series, if you would like more details! Nerds will be drawn to the expansive world-building, attention to detail, and reflections on empire, memory and legacy.

Elder Race, by Adrian Tchaikovsky

4 stars | 201 pages | standalone | no one's queer, I don't think :(

This one might be a good pick for veterans of SFF - it has a fun gimmick! You must've heard the phrase "any science advanced enough in undistinguishable from magic", attributed to Arthur C. Clarke. This book takes that concept and runs with it. For Lynesse, a princess in a medieval society, Elder Nyr's "giant tower" is magical, and he, a magician. For Elder Nyr, an anthropologist come from a different planet, his interests are scientific, and his "tower", a spaceship. The fun of the novella is that we flip-flop between these two people's perspectives, so that half the story is a sci-fi, and the other half, a fantasy. I found this story to be unique, and to understand its place in the speculative genre quite well. It defies expectations and conventions in a creative way that I think nerds familiar with them will enjoy!

The Traitor Baru Cormorant, by Seth Dickinson

5 stars | 399 pages | uncompleted series | queer main characteres

Another good bet is The Traitor Baru Cormorant, the first installment in the Masquerade Series, which is not finished yet. It follows Baru, who, as a child, watches her country be colonized by the Masquerade Empire. She vows revenge, and to destroy the empire from the inside out. In this installment, she is finally trusted to be sent as an Imperial Accountant to Aurdwynn, a famously ungovernable territory... This one is very, very brain-y. It's dense political fantasy, and I admit I had some trouble following the economics, sometimes - that was never my strong suit!! The tapestry of betrayals, alliances and twists is rich, intricate and realistic. People have diverse interests, are multi-faceted individuals, and yet have a reason to be acting they way they are acting. This makes for satisfying plot lines, and incredible twists. I still haven't recovered from what the first book did to me, to be honest. Nerds, if you want to be dazzled and made to work for it, pick this one up. The Traitor Baru Corumorant will have you scratching your chin, thinking hard and having a lot of fun with (yay!) economics and accounting!

I have a couple more of these if anyone is interested :) And as always, if you need a book rec, feel free to send me an ask!