#subtlety is for lesser creatures

[spoonyruncible]

One of the dumbest sweetest things is that my cat is obsessed with my shoes and socks. She will sleep on them regardless of how many beds and perches she has. She will chew them (hate this). She will drag them out of the tidy spots I put them in so she can better sleep on and chew them. She will hide them in her secret nap spots like a dragon with its bed of treasure but the treasure here is foot odor.

And I am no Jackson Galaxy but I know enough about to cats to know this is her loving me. She's picked the thing that stinks the most of my scent and wrapped herself around it. Shoes are something I only wear when leaving the house to go out into the world and she has made certain they have her scent on them so everyone knows that, should they want to claim me, I have been laid claim to already

[ladysif8]

Alpine's Guide to Surviving the Holidays

•Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers •Rating: General Audience •Tags: Recovering Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Steve Rogers, Introducing Alpine, Domestic Bliss, Flirting, Kissing, Boys In Love, Christmas Time, Alpine Is A Furry Demon Kitty, Alpines POV, Alpines Guide, Alpine is Supreme Queen.

Summary: This festive, feline-centered tale offers a glimpse of the holidays from Alpine's perspective, filled with chaos, humor, and a little holiday mischief as she reminds her humans who's really in charge.

Author Note: This is dedicated to my wonderful friend Jess, whose friendship, endless support, and creativity inspire me every day. Thank you for being such an incredible part of my journey. This one's for you!

Greetings, lesser creatures. I am Alpine, supreme ruler of my domain, and it has come to my attention that humans behave even more ridiculously than usual during the "holiday season." As the authority on all matters feline, I have compiled this guide to help my fellow cats navigate—and exploit—this baffling time of year.

Step 1: The Tree

Humans will drag an entire tree into the house (or worse, assemble a fake one) and decorate it with shiny, dangly objects that they insist you must not touch. Nonsense. Those ornaments are clearly meant for us.

Here's how to assert your dominance:

• Start small. Bat at the lower ornaments when no one's looking.

• Once you've mastered subtle swipes, go for a bold climb up the tree. Bonus points if the humans scream in panic.

• Knock over at least one ornament a day. This keeps the humans on their toes and reminds them who's really in charge.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, twinkling with strings of lights and shimmering with delicate ornaments, a picture of holiday perfection. It practically radiated smugness, as if it were daring anyone to disrupt its pristine beauty. Alpine, lounging a few feet away, had other plans. Her blue eyes narrowed as she sized it up, her tail flicking rhythmically against the floor. Bucky had told her no at least a dozen times since the tree had gone up, but Alpine wasn't one to take orders. Rules, as far as she was concerned, were for humans—and besides, this tree was asking for it.

She started small. Subtlety was her specialty. Creeping toward the base of the tree with slow, deliberate steps, she kept her movements light and quiet, her tail held low to avoid catching attention. Once in position, her paw shot out, quick as a flash, batting at a low-hanging ornament. It spun lazily on its string, catching the glow of the twinkling lights. Perfect.

Satisfied with her work, Alpine swatted at another one, her claws grazing the shiny surface with a satisfying tink. The sound echoed faintly through the room, and she froze, her ears swiveling toward the kitchen.

"Alpine," Bucky's voice boomed, sharp and warning. "Don't even think about it."

She turned her head slowly, fixing him with her most innocent stare, wide-eyed and sweet. The picture of a good cat. And then, with a flick of her tail, she swatted the ornament again—harder this time, sending it flying across the room. It bounced once on the rug before disappearing under the couch.

"Really?" Bucky groaned, his head poking out from around the corner. He glared at her, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "That's one a day with you, I swear."

Unbothered, Alpine slunk back to her spot by the couch, watching him retreat to the kitchen. She stretched luxuriously, her claws extending and retracting, before shifting her focus back to the tree. The lower branches were fine for a warm-up, but the real challenge was higher up.

She crouched low, coiling her muscles like a spring. With a sudden leap, she launched herself onto the tree, her claws digging into the branches for stability. The ornaments swayed and jingled with her weight, the lights trembling as she climbed higher. A spray of tinsel fell to the floor, sparkling like confetti in her wake.

From the kitchen, there was a crash of pots, followed by a sharp, familiar yell. "ALPINE!"

Bucky stormed into the living room, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. "Get out of the tree!"

Alpine paused midway up the trunk, one paw wrapped around a branch for balance. She tilted her head and blinked at him, feigning confusion. What tree? her expression seemed to say.

"Seriously?" Bucky muttered, rushing forward as the tree wobbled dangerously under her weight. He wrapped his arms around the trunk, trying to steady it, but Alpine was already on the move, climbing higher. She batted at a glittering snowflake ornament, sending it tumbling down.

"Alpine, come on!" he pleaded, his voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Deciding she'd caused enough chaos for now, Alpine leaped gracefully from the tree, landing on the coffee table with a soft thump. Behind her, the tree swayed violently but, miraculously, stayed upright. Bucky let out a relieved sigh, muttering to himself as he began straightening the disheveled branches.

But Alpine wasn't done. Not yet. Spying an ornament she'd knocked loose earlier, she padded over and batted it across the floor, chasing it as it rolled in uneven circles.

"Of course," Bucky grumbled, shooting her a tired glare as he fixed the lights. "You're lucky it's Christmas."

Victorious, Alpine flicked her tail and nudged the ornament under the couch, where it would live forever. The tree might have survived round one, but Alpine knew she'd be back. After all, this was her domain. The tree, like everything else in the house, was hers. And it would never truly be safe—not as long as she was around.

Step 2: Wrapping Presents

Humans love to take perfectly good objects and wrap them in noisy, crinkly paper. This, dear friends, is your playground.

• When they roll out the paper, sit directly in the middle of it. This is your territory now.

• Attack the ribbon. It's sparkly, it moves, and it's yours. Shred it mercilessly.

• Bat bows around the room like the tiny foes they are.

• If they attempt to shoo you away, give them your most innocent look. Trust me, it works every time.

Remember: the true purpose of wrapping paper is not to hide presents but to entertain us.

Bucky had barely unrolled the first sheet of wrapping paper when Alpine appeared, materializing from thin air like some kind of crinkly paper clairvoyant. Her ears perked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she trotted toward him. The sound of paper rustling was like a siren call, and Alpine couldn't resist. She hopped onto the pristine sheet and plopped herself dead center, her tail curling smugly around her paws like a queen settling on her throne.

"Alpine, move," Bucky said, already sounding defeated.

Alpine blinked at him, her wide blue eyes radiating an air of innocence so pure it was borderline insulting. She didn't flinch, didn't budge—didn't even acknowledge his request. When he leaned forward, his hand hovering to shoo her away, she stretched luxuriously, rolling onto her side and making sure to crinkle the paper as loudly as possible.

"Seriously?" he muttered, glaring down at her.

Unfazed, Alpine flicked her tail in slow, deliberate defiance. Bucky let out a heavy sigh and tried working around her, carefully trimming the paper without slicing it into fur. But as he reached for the spool of ribbon, Alpine's ears twitched. Her eyes locked onto the shiny strand as it unfurled, glinting temptingly in the light.

It was too much. With a swipe of her paw, she snagged the ribbon and pinned it to the floor like she'd just caught a wriggling snake.

"Alpine, no!" Bucky snapped, yanking at the ribbon.

Alpine growled softly, swatting again as the ribbon slipped from her grasp. He managed to pull it free and loop it around the box, but Alpine was faster. She pounced, grabbing the ribbon midair and rolling onto her back, clutching it triumphantly in her claws.

"Unbelievable," Bucky groaned, carefully untangling the ribbon from her paws.

He thought he was in the clear, but as soon as his attention shifted back to the gift, Alpine's gaze darted toward her next target: the bows. Shiny, colorful, and scattered across the floor, they were practically begging for her attention. She darted toward the nearest one and swatted it across the room with a triumphant chirp.

"Alpine!" Bucky's voice thundered, but the cat didn't even glance back.

She was already onto the next bow, batting it under the coffee table. It disappeared into the shadows, but Alpine didn't care—there were plenty more. She pounced on another, sliding it across the floor in a spectacularly clumsy arc.

Bucky dropped the roll of tape in his hand and ran both hands down his face. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered to himself.

By the time he turned back, Alpine had returned to the wrapping paper. Now re-rolled in an attempt to salvage it, the paper was no match for her claws. She flopped onto it with theatrical flair, purring loudly as she kneaded her paws into the sheet, puncturing it in several places. The noise was deafening, each crinkling like a personal victory.

Bucky crouched down, trying to salvage what little was left of his materials. "You are literally the worst," he grumbled, gathering the shredded remnants of the bows Alpine had massacred.

Alpine looked up at him with a satisfied gleam in her eyes, her purr vibrating through the room like applause for her own performance. She stretched lazily, flicking her tail in his direction as if to say, You're welcome.

To her, Bucky had it all wrong. Wrapping paper wasn't for gifts—it was a playground. Ribbons weren't for tying; they were for hunting. And bows? They were trophies meant to be batted under furniture where they'd remain for eternity. Judging by the chaotic mess around her, Alpine knew one thing for sure: she was using all of it exactly as it was intended.

Step 3: The Fire

Humans seem to think the fire is the heart of the holiday. While it's not bad—it's warm, after all—it's still no radiator.

• Claim the spot closest to the fire. If a human is already sitting there, stare at them until they move.

• Beware of stockings hanging nearby. They dangle tantalizingly but are oddly difficult to swat down. (Still worth a try.)

• Don't trust the fire's crackling noises. They're suspicious. Stay vigilant.

Alpine padded into the living room, tail high, ears twitching at the crackling sound coming from the fireplace. There it was: the humans' precious fire, flickering and glowing like it owned the room. Warm? Sure. Cozy? Maybe. But it wasn't a radiator, and Alpine wasn't about to let it think it was better than her favorite heat source.

Steve and Bucky sat on the couch, chatting and sipping from their mugs, perfectly positioned in the prime spot near the fire. This was unacceptable. Alpine needed that spot, and she needed it now.

She sat down in the middle of the rug, facing Steve with unblinking eyes. He caught her stare after a few seconds.

"What?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alpine kept staring, adding a soft, purposeful flick of her tail for emphasis. Move, human.

Steve glanced at Bucky. "Why is she looking at me like that?"

"She wants your spot," Bucky said without looking up, his tone dripping with familiarity.

"Well, she can't have it," Steve replied, leaning back as if to assert his dominance.

Challenge accepted. Alpine stood, marched over, and sat down directly in front of Steve's feet. She turned her head and gave him her best wide-eyed, sorrowful look. If her tail flicked a little too close to his mug, well, that was just a coincidence.

"Oh, come on," Steve muttered, already shifting uncomfortably. Alpine stared harder, her gaze now a mix of judgment and expectation.

"Just give her the spot," Bucky said, smirking from the other end of the couch. "You're not gonna win."

With a dramatic sigh, Steve stood and moved to the armchair. Alpine hopped into his vacated spot immediately, circling twice before curling up with smug precision. It was warm, sure, but not quite warm enough.

She turned her attention to the stockings hanging above the fire. They dangled there, swaying gently, clearly mocking her. Alpine stood up, stretched luxuriously, and then leapt onto the coffee table for a better angle.

"Alpine," Bucky warned, setting down his mug. "Don't even think about it."

She didn't think. She acted. Her paw shot out, claws extended, swiping at the nearest stocking. It swung wildly but didn't fall. Alpine tried again, harder this time, but the stupid thing just wouldn't come down. Frustrated, she let out a chirp of protest and glared at it.

"She's gonna take the whole mantel down if you let her," Steve said, crossing his arms.

"Alpine, get down," Bucky ordered, but she ignored him, swatting one last time for good measure before leaping gracefully back to the rug.

The fire popped loudly, and Alpine froze, her ears flattening. Suspicious. She crept closer, sniffing the air, her eyes narrowing at the flickering flames. It crackled again, and she backed up a step, tail puffing slightly.

"You're scared of the fire?" Steve asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"She's not scared," Bucky said quickly, watching Alpine stalk the edge of the rug with exaggerated caution. "She's... being strategic."

Alpine shot him a glare. She wasn't scared. She was vigilant—a big difference.

Deciding the fire was sufficiently warned of her dominance, she returned to her spot on the couch and sprawled across the cushions. The humans were lucky to have her here, keeping them safe from suspicious crackles and rebellious stockings.

The fire might've been warm, but Alpine was still the heart of the holiday, and everyone in the room knew it.

Step 4: Snow

At some point, humans may open the door and expect you to appreciate "the snow." Do not fall for it.

• Snow is cold and wet and sticks to your paws like some form of winter torture. Avoid it at all costs.

• If they force you outside, make your disdain known with the most pitiful meow you can muster. Drag your feet dramatically and glare at them over your shoulder.

• When you come back inside, immediately seek out the warmest spot to recover from the betrayal. Preferably their lap, so they feel guilty.

The indignity of it all.

Alpine, supreme queen of her household, ruler of the warmest laps, and thief of unattended chili had endured many affronts in her life—but this? This was a betrayal of epic proportions.

They had dragged her out of her cozy suburban paradise and into the woods. She lifted a delicate paw and shook off the offending snow with a flick that was half disgust, half Shakespearean drama. Her little blue coat, while admittedly snug and warm, was nothing short of a betrayal. It wasn't fashion; it was imprisonment. She looked like a stuffed marshmallow, and the harness? Don't even get her started.

The leash tugged lightly, urging her to move forward. Alpine responded by planting all four paws firmly in the snow, her tail flicking sharply. The snow clung to her pristine white fur like a personal insult, the icy crystals melting into chilly droplets that seeped through her delicate coat. Why? she thought, her narrowed eyes shifting between the two lumbering buffoons who dared to call themselves her caretakers.

"Come on, baby girl, just a little farther," Bucky cooed, crouching down a few feet away with that infernal camera in his hands. The man had no shame; snapping pictures like her suffering was some kind of artistic masterpiece.

Alpine leveled him with a look that could have frozen the snow beneath his boots. Little farther? Farther from where I belong, you mean. My couch, my radiator, my perfectly curated kingdom? She huffed loudly, the frosty air curling from her mouth in a visible display of disdain.

Steve, the other giant, stood nearby, bundled in so many layers he looked like an overstuffed burrito. He grinned down at her, clearly finding her predicament amusing. "She's doing great," he said, his breath fogging in the cold.

Great? Alpine's tail lashed behind her. I'm being dragged through the frozen wilderness like a common peasant, and this is 'great'?

Her delicate paw lifted from the snow with an exaggerated flourish. She shook it violently, flinging icy flecks into the air before setting it back down with as much reluctance as she could muster. Every step forward was a performance of melodramatic resignation, but they didn't seem to care.

"Oh, she's so photogenic," Bucky muttered, clicking the phone camera again. "Look at that sass. She's got attitude."

Attitude? Alpine's ears flattened, her eyes narrowing. I'll show you attitude. Just wait until you leave your cereal bowl unattended tomorrow morning.

But it wasn't just the snow. No, the real insult was where they'd brought her. The cabin. The cabin. She glanced around at the surrounding woods with a mix of horror and disgust. Bare trees loomed overhead, their skeletal branches creaking in the icy wind. The ground was a patchwork of snow and uneven earth, with no sign of the soft carpet or gleaming hardwood she was accustomed to.

Alpine sniffed the air cautiously, catching the faint, earthy scent of pine mixed with something wild and unfamiliar. It was offensive. This place was a far cry from her suburban home, with its cozy nooks and warm sunbeams streaming through the windows. The cabin had its charms, sure, but it wasn't hers.

And now they wanted her to explore this frozen wasteland? She flicked her tail again, letting out a low, pitiful meow for emphasis.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," Bucky said, reaching out to scratch under her chin. She dodged his hand with a dramatic head tilt, making it clear she was not in the mood for his placations.

As if to make things worse, the leash tugged again, and Alpine begrudgingly took another step. This time, her paw sank deeper into the snow, and she froze in place, glaring down at it with wide, horrified eyes. She lifted her paw slowly, staring at the clumps of snow stuck between her toes like they were the cruelest form of punishment.

Bucky doubled over laughing. "Oh, my god, Stevie, look at her face. She's so mad."

"I don't blame her," Steve said, though he was grinning too. "We did kind of spring this on her."

Spring this on me? Alpine let out another theatrical sigh. You dragged me from my kingdom to this frostbitten hellscape without warning, and now you expect me to be grateful?

Bucky crouched again, holding up the phone and aiming it straight at her. "Come on, baby girl, just a few more shots. Give me that fierce model look."

I will knock that phone off into the toilet the next time your in the shower, Alpine thought as she stared directly into the lens with a withering glare.

When they finally—finally—seemed to get the message, Bucky scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "There we go," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "All done, baby girl. Let's get you inside."

Alpine hissed softly but allowed the indignity; it was too cold to put up much of a fight. At least his arms were warm, and the cabin's glow was growing closer with every step.

As they reached the porch, Bucky grinned over his shoulder at Steve. "I'm putting these pictures on the Christmas card."

Alpine buried her face in his coat with a low growl. Not if I get to them first.

Bucky carried Alpine into the cabin, the warm air hitting her like a soft, cozy blanket after the betrayal of the outdoors. She let out a long, theatrical yowl, her voice echoing off the walls, just to ensure her displeasure was properly noted. You dare bring me out there and expect me to act like it was fun?

"Alright, alright, you little diva," Bucky muttered, setting her down on the bench by the front door. His tone was annoyingly affectionate, as though her suffering was adorable. Adorable? She wasn't adorable—she was a wronged queen demanding justice.

Her tail lashed as Bucky started unfastening her puffy blue jacket. She let out another mournful cry, a detailed list of grievances disguised as a single, ear-piercing yowl. Dragged me into the snow, stuffed me into this hideous contraption, laughed at my misery—your crimes will not go unpunished!

"Don't yell at me! You needed the jacket," Bucky protested, working the tiny zipper free. "It's freezing out there. You wanna catch a cold?"

Cold? Alpine narrowed her eyes at him. If I were meant to be cold, I'd have been born as a snowshoe hare. But I am not. I am a cat. A creature of warmth, comfort, and dignity, all of which you've stolen from me today.

As soon as the jacket came off, Alpine leaped off the wooden bench with all the grace of someone who absolutely did not appreciate being handled. She stalked away from the front door and her abuser, her fluffy tail held high, flicking once for emphasis. Behind her, Bucky muttered something about "ungrateful furballs," but Alpine didn't dignify him with a response.

Her mission was clear: she needed to find the other human.

Alpine padded into the living room, each step purposeful, her tail swishing behind her like a banner of disdain. She paused at the threshold, her sharp green eyes sweeping over the cabin's decor. It was... underwhelming. Cozy, sure, but in a way that felt manufactured—like the humans were trying too hard to make it seem charming. She sniffed as if to physically draw in all the reasons she disliked it, her whiskers twitching with disapproval.

Her gaze locked on the Christmas tree, a nearly identical twin to the one at home. It stood smugly in the corner, draped in twinkling lights and shimmering baubles, its branches heavy with ornaments that swayed invitingly. It was practically begging her to reach out a paw. But she knew better. This was just another of their pointless rules.

What is the point of hanging shiny, dangling objects if I'm not allowed to touch them? Alpine thought, her ears flicking backward in annoyance. She swished her tail, remembering every time her paw had been batted away at home. A tree with strict "No, Alpine!" rules was no tree worth respecting.

As her inspection of the room continued, her opinion of the cabin remained resolute: unimpressive. The furniture was soft but mismatched, the kind of pieces you'd tolerate, not cherish. The rug beneath her paws was too coarse for her liking, and the cushions on the couch looked lumpy. Everything here screamed temporary, and Alpine did not care for temporary. She liked her home: the routines, the warm, well-worn spots on the couch, the radiator she'd claimed as her personal throne.

I'll never understand these humans, she thought, her ears twitching as the fire popped again. They hang shiny, tempting objects on a tree and then act like I'm the unreasonable one for wanting to touch them. And those stockings? Useless. They don't even have treats in them. What's the point?

This cabin was tolerable, she supposed, but only because she was here to make it so. It wasn't home, and it certainly wasn't up to her standards.

There he was—the other human. The spare one. Steve. The one who didn't put her in silly outfits or shove a phone in her face. Steve was sprawles out on the couch, holding a book, his big frame sprawled out like he had nowhere else to be.

Perfect.

Alpine hopped onto his lap and immediately began her campaign. She stared up at him with wide, soulful eyes, her most effective weapon, and let out a soft, plaintive meow. Feed me, loyal subject. Prove your worth.

Steve's face broke into a smile as he set the book aside. "Oh, so now I'm the favorite?" he asked, reaching down to pet her.

Alpine leaned into his hand, purring softly as his warm fingers trailed along her back. Finally, someone was acting appropriately.

From the kitchen, Bucky's voice carried over. "She's probably trying to con you into feeding her. Don't let her win, Stevie!"

Con? Alpine's ears twitched at the insult, but she didn't look away from Steve. Instead, she meowed again, a touch louder this time, making her demands crystal clear.

"Too late," Steve said, chuckling as he gently set her back on the floor. He stretched, then headed to the kitchen, Alpine trotting at his heels like the commanding presence she was. "Can't have our little queen going hungry, can we?"

She shot Bucky a smug look as Steve opened the sacred cupboard and retrieved the most precious of treasures—a can of wet food. Her tail flicked in satisfaction as he popped the lid and scooped the fragrant feast into her bowl. See? This one knows what he's doing.

As Steve scooped the food into her bowl, Alpine purred loudly, her tail flicking in satisfaction. Finally, some justice in this household. She devoured the meal with gusto, savoring every bite. It wasn't that long ago that she'd been scraping by, scrounging behind gas stations and dodging cold, sleepless nights. Life here wasn't so bad—not with food like this.

While Steve washed the spoon, Alpine dined like royalty, savoring every bite. Life hadn't always been this good. Not so long ago, she'd been a scrappy dumpster kitten, scrounging for scraps behind gas stations and braving cold, lonely nights. She didn't like to think about those days, but they made moments like this all the sweeter. Her life wasn't all that bad—not with food like this.

When her bowl was empty and her stomach full, Alpine padded back into the living room, her paws light, and her mood improved. The fire crackled invitingly, and she jumped onto the couch, curling into a perfect ball right in front of the warmth.

The two humans joined her shortly after, Bucky flopping onto the couch next to Steve, the blonde's arm slung over the brunette shoulders. They both looked at her, their expressions soft, and Alpine allowed herself to feel a little smug. She had them wrapped around her paw, just as it should be.

"What do you think she's thinking about?" Bucky asked, leaning into Steve.

Steve laughed, rubbing his hand over Bucky's shoulder. "World domination, probably. Or figuring out how to knock over the Christmas tree."

Perhaps both, Alpine thought, cracking one eye open to glance at them. She offered a slow blink, a silent acknowledgment of their loyalty. They were idiots, but they were her idiots.

With a contented sigh, she tucked her nose under her paw and drifted off to sleep. Life with these two wasn't perfect, but it was warm, full of food, and—when they weren't stuffing her into coats or dragging her into the snow—pretty good.

Step 5: Christmas Cards

Humans love to send pictures of themselves during the holidays. Unfortunately, they will try to include you in these.

• If they attempt to pose you next to the tree or in front of the fire, resist. Go limp, twist around, or give them the back of your head for every shot.

• If they succeed in taking a photo, ensure you look unimpressed. This will make the card more authentic.

• When the cards arrive, sit on them. Knock them off the table. This will remind the humans who the real star of the holidays is—you.

The humans had outdone themselves with their ridiculous holiday traditions. Alpine watched from her perch on the back of the couch as Bucky and Steve shuffled around the living room, setting up some sort of photo shoot. The tree twinkled, the fire crackled, and a neatly folded blanket had been draped over the armchair like they were expecting royalty.

"Alpine!" Bucky called, holding a Santa hat in one hand and a determined look on his face. "Come here."

She narrowed her eyes. Absolutely not.

Bucky sighed and tried a new tactic, kneeling and holding out his hand. "Come on, girl. Just one picture, and we're done."

Alpine considered her options. She could stay here and make them chase her, but where was the fun in that? Slowly, she stretched and leapt down, sauntering toward him with exaggerated disinterest. Let them think she was cooperating.

The moment Bucky tried to pick her up, she went completely limp, her full weight dropping into his arms like she'd forgotten how bones worked.

"Oh, come on," he grumbled, shifting her awkwardly. "Steve, help me out."

Steve approached, camera in hand, and Alpine twisted suddenly, wriggling free and darting under the coffee table. From her vantage point, she watched as the humans sighed in unison, already looking defeated.

"I told you we should've just gotten a dog," Steve muttered.

Bucky crouched down to look at her. "Alpine, we're just trying to make a nice card. Can you work with us here?"

She blinked at him slowly, then turned her head, giving him a perfect view of the back of her ears.

"Fine. You win," Bucky muttered, standing. But Alpine wasn't done. As they reset the scene, she emerged from her hiding spot, climbing onto the chair they'd so lovingly prepared.

"Hey, she's sitting still!" Steve said, raising the camera.

Alpine waited until the perfect moment—just as the camera clicked—then yawned dramatically, her ears flattening and her expression one of sheer boredom.

"Really?" Bucky said, glaring at the screen.

"That's actually pretty funny," Steve chuckled, showing him the shot.

By the time the humans gave up and printed their cards, Alpine had moved on to her next target: the cards themselves. They sat in a neat stack on the coffee table, practically begging to be knocked over. She hopped onto the table, settled directly on top of the stack, and began grooming herself like she hadn't a care in the world.

"Alpine, those aren't for you!" Steve said, reaching for the cards.

She swatted his hand away and stretched out further, crumpling the envelopes beneath her.

"She's just reminding us who the star of this holiday is," Bucky said dryly, crossing his arms.

Alpine purred, satisfied. She didn't need to be in the humans' silly pictures. Everyone already knew the truth: this holiday—and the humans' sanity—revolved around her.

Step 6: Holiday Food

Humans feast during the holidays, but they will selfishly guard most of the food. This is unacceptable.

• Station yourself near the kitchen or dining table. Look adorable but hungry.

• If subtlety doesn't work, leap onto the counter and help yourself. Turkey, ham, and anything involving gravy are top-tier.

• Avoid candy canes. They smell strange and are disappointingly inedible.

The smells wafting from the kitchen were overwhelming—roasting meat, buttery rolls, and the tantalizing richness of gravy. Alpine crouched just outside the doorway, her nose twitching and tail flicking as she watched Bucky shuffle between the oven and the counter. He had been at it for hours, muttering under his breath about timers and seasoning. To Alpine, it was obvious: all this effort was clearly for her.

The humans were predictable. They always shared—eventually. But the trick was timing. Alpine stationed herself strategically near the dining table, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at Steve, who was slicing bread with precision. Occasionally, she let out a soft, pitiful meow for effect.

"She's giving me the look," Steve muttered to Bucky. "Like I haven't fed her in weeks."

"She's playing you," Bucky shot back without even looking up from his mashed potatoes. "Don't fall for it."

Fine. If pity wasn't working, it was time to escalate.

As Bucky turned to check on the ham, Alpine seized her chance. She leapt onto the counter with the agility of a gymnast, landing silently next to the cooling dish of turkey. The smell was heavenly, and before anyone could react, she snagged a piece with her paw and ducked under the table.

"Alpine!" Bucky's shout was immediate.

From her hiding spot, she could hear the slap of a dish towel against the counter. She took a victorious bite of the turkey, savoring the juicy perfection.

"Seriously?" Steve said, trying not to laugh. "She's like a ninja."

"She's like a menace," Bucky growled, bending down to glare at her. "Give it back!"

Alpine licked her paw, feigning innocence, the half-eaten piece of turkey tucked safely under her. She blinked slowly at Bucky, the picture of feline arrogance.

"Oh, come on," Bucky groaned, standing up and muttering to himself.

Alpine watched as he turned back to the counter, now more vigilant, but she wasn't done yet. She leapt back up a few minutes later when his guard was down, this time going for the gravy boat.

"Alpine, no!"

The commotion sent the humans scrambling, but Alpine was too quick, darting away with a gravy-dipped paw. The humans were shouting, but all Alpine heard was a triumph.

Candy canes, however, were another story. One sat abandoned on the counter, its shiny wrapper catching the light. Curious, Alpine sniffed it, only to recoil at the strange, minty scent. With a flick of her paw, she sent it flying to the floor where it could bother someone else. Disgusting.

By the time dinner was served, Alpine had claimed a seat under the table, strategically positioned to catch any falling crumbs. She watched smugly as Bucky set down the dishes, glaring at her like she was the villain of the holiday.

Little did he know, Alpine thought, licking her gravy-soaked paw, she was the hero this feast deserved.

Step 7: The Gift Exchange

Humans will gather around the tree and exchange boxes of things they don't need. Occasionally, they will give you gifts too.

• Ignore the gifts they give you. It's likely a toy you'll never touch or some boring treats.

• Instead, focus on the empty boxes and discarded wrapping paper. These are the real treasures.

• Jump into every box. Claim it. It's your throne now.

The living room looked like a holiday battlefield—a sea of torn wrapping paper, empty boxes, and shiny ribbons strewn across the floor. Alpine was in her element. Sitting primly in the center of the chaos, she watched her humans, Bucky and Steve, exchanging gifts under the tree. They were making far too much fuss over things that clearly didn't matter. The true treasures were right in front of her: crinkly paper, dangling ribbons, and boxes—oh, the glorious boxes.

"Look, Alpine," Steve said, holding out a small package wrapped in green paper. "This one's for you."

Alpine glanced at the box, then at Steve, her green eyes narrowing slightly. Did he honestly think she'd care about what was inside? She was far too busy surveying the mess to waste energy humoring him. With the dignity of a queen dismissing a court jester, she turned her attention to a crumpled ball of wrapping paper lying just out of reach.

She crouched low, tail flicking, and pounced, batting the paper across the floor. It skittered under the couch, but she didn't mind—there were plenty more.

"Guess she's not interested," Steve chuckled, setting the package aside.

"Typical," Bucky muttered, tearing into a box of his own. "We could've saved twenty bucks if we just gave her the garbage."

Alpine ignored their commentary. She had more important tasks at hand. A stray bow caught her eye, its shiny surface catching the light. She stalked it like prey, her claws unsheathing as she pounced. The bow slid across the floor, but she was relentless, chasing it under the coffee table and batting it back out into the open. Finally, she trapped it under her paw and gave it a triumphant bite before losing interest. There were still other treasures to claim.

And then she saw it: an empty box sitting near Bucky's feet. The perfect size for sitting, lounging, or both. She padded over, sniffing it with the cautious curiosity of a professional investigator. Satisfied, she hopped inside, turning in circles until she'd found just the right position.

"She gets a catnip toy and ignores it for a box," Bucky said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Priorities," Steve replied with a grin, watching Alpine settle into her new throne.

Alpine stretched luxuriously, her tail dangling lazily over the edge of the box. For a moment, she closed her eyes, basking in the triumph of her find. But peace never lasted long in her world. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a ribbon dangling from the arm of the couch. It swayed gently, taunting her.

Without hesitation, Alpine leapt from the box and tackled the ribbon mid-air, rolling onto her back as she shredded it with wild abandon. The humans' voices grew louder, but their words were irrelevant. She had won.

"Alpine, come on," Bucky groaned, crouching to pick up the pieces of ribbon. "That's the third one you've destroyed!"

Unbothered by his protests, Alpine sauntered back to her box and hopped in, resuming her royal position. She gave Bucky a slow blink—the feline equivalent of a mic drop.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "I think she's having the best Christmas out of all of us."

Bucky sighed, glancing at the pile of toys and treats they'd bought her, now abandoned in favor of the box and wrapping paper. "Next year, we're just getting her an empty box and some paper. Save ourselves the trouble."

Alpine flicked her tail, smug satisfaction radiating from her small frame. Finally, they were starting to understand who the real star of Christmas was.

Step 8: Holiday Cheer

Humans will sing, laugh, and generally act even more absurd than usual. They'll also cuddle more, which is... tolerable.

• Indulge them when they try to include you in their "holiday spirit." Let them pet you for exactly as long as you feel like it.

• If they dress you in a Santa hat or a ridiculous sweater, go limp. Make them regret their choices.

• Occasionally grace them with a slow blink. This will make them feel like they've earned your approval, which keeps them manageable.

The living room buzzed with holiday cheer, the kind humans seemed to find contagious this time of year. Laughter and chatter filled the space as Bucky and Steve lounged on the couch, mugs of steaming cocoa in hand, trading stories and enjoying the cozy warmth of the fire. Alpine, perched on the arm of the couch, observed the scene with her usual mix of disdain and reluctant fondness. Humans were absurd creatures, but at least they served a purpose—sometimes.

Steve reached over, his hand hovering near her ears. "You feeling the holiday cheer, Alpine?" he asked, his voice soft and coaxing, like she was some simple-minded puppy who could be swayed by tone alone.

She allowed the intrusion, tilting her head slightly as his fingers scratched behind her ears. For a moment—just a moment—she leaned into the touch, her eyes half-closing in approval. But then, inevitably, he pushed his luck and scratched the wrong spot. Her tail flicked sharply in warning, and she sprang down from the arm of the couch with an air of offended dignity, leaving Steve mid-scratch and chuckling to himself.

"Guess that's a no," he said with a grin, watching as Alpine sauntered toward Bucky's chair.

Bucky snorted, one hand resting on the armrest as Alpine approached. "Yeah, that's her version of holiday cheer—gracing us with her presence until we overstep."

Despite his words, his hand reached out to stroke her head. Alpine tolerated it for a beat or two, closing her eyes briefly before pulling back. She had better things to do than indulge human attention all evening. Or so she thought.

That's when she saw it—the Santa hat.

Bucky held it up with a mischievous grin, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Come on, Alpine. Just for a second. You'll look cute."

Cute? Alpine didn't need some ridiculous human prop to be cute. Her ears flattened immediately as she glared at him, her tail twitching in annoyance. She considered bolting, but before she could make her escape, the hat was on her head.

Her response was immediate and dramatic. She went limp, collapsing onto the arm of the chair like the weight of the world—or at least the hat—was too much to bear.

Steve burst out laughing. "Oh my god, she's playing dead! Look at her!"

Bucky groaned, trying to adjust the hat as Alpine flopped over onto her side, her legs splayed in the most exaggerated display of misery she could muster. If he wanted her to wear this thing, he was going to suffer for it.

"She's fine," Bucky said, though even he was laughing as he wrestled with her limp form. "You're such a little diva."

Alpine didn't budge, her green eyes narrowing into a judgmental glare that could have peeled paint off the walls. After a few more failed attempts to make the hat look presentable, Bucky finally sighed and removed it, tossing it onto the couch with a defeated shake of his head.

As soon as the offending accessory was gone, Alpine sprang to her feet with an indignant shake; her fur fluffed as if to rid herself of the lingering humiliation.

"See?" Steve teased. "You ruined her mood."

"Yeah, well, she ruined my hat," Bucky muttered, gesturing to the crumpled mess now sitting on the couch.

Ignoring them both, Alpine climbed back onto the armrest she'd claimed earlier, settling down with her tail neatly curled around her paws. She gave Bucky a slow, deliberate blink—a signal of forgiveness, but just barely.

Steve grinned. "That was a mercy blink. She's letting you off easy."

Bucky groaned, slouching back in his chair. "I don't know why I even try with her."

Satisfied, Alpine tucked her paws beneath her chest, her eyes closing as the warmth of the fire and the sound of human chatter filled the room. Holiday cheer, she decided, was tolerable—so long as it remained on her terms. Naturally, she was winning.

Conclusion

The holidays can be chaotic, loud, and full of baffling traditions. But remember: you are the true center of the household, no matter what these humans celebrate. Use their festivities to your advantage. Play with their decorations, dominate their wrapping sessions, and claim their cozy spots.

And most importantly, when they look at you with those ridiculous grins and call you their "holiday miracle," accept it. After all, you are the greatest gift they could ever hope for.

Happy holidays, peasants.

-Alpine 🐾

Moodboard

Sif's Masterlist

Series Masterlist

[shachaai]

[Hetalia Version] The Lindworm’s Lullaby

Chapters: 2/14 Rating: Explicit (For Gore) Main Relationships: Arthur Kirkland (England)/Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal) Characters: Arthur Kirkland (England), Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal), Original Child Character(s), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Julia Blumenschien (Fem Prussia), Kiku Honda (Japan), Lovino Vargas (South Italy), Assorted Others Other Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human AU, FBI Murder Mystery/Thriller, Case Fic, Adapted from a Hannibal Fic, Baby Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Gabriel Fernandes, Omega Arthur Kirkland, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Single Parent Arthur Kirkland, Violence and Gore Canon-Typical to Hannibal Levels, Cute Moments and Murder, Murder Scenes, Dead Bodies, Poisoning, Discussions about torture/infidelity/rape

The FBI is called in to investigate when a series of bodies shows up around Ohio: all of them alphas, and all of them skinned alive. With the killer’s motives a mystery, Ludwig Beilschmidt pulls Arthur Kirkland from the classroom and his vigil at the comatose Madeline Williams’ bedside once more to lend his insight to the case - with very little mind paid to the fact that the busy Arthur, omega and single mother to a six month-old daughter, might have some scheduling issues. Necessity - and pressure from Ludwig - drives Arthur into reluctantly asking Gabriel Fernandes for a favour at short notice. Gabriel is delighted to help Arthur with babysitting - once he has, of course, recovered from both the surprise of learning that Arthur Kirkland even has a baby to care for and, presented with the adorable armful that is a sleepy Lenore Kirkland, feeling a little skinned raw himself.

*****

CHAPTER 1

*****

*****

Chapter 2: Lenore

Gabriel spends longer than he would care to admit - even to himself - simply standing there in the Quantico lecture hall after Arthur Kirkland leaves him. The minutes pass like seconds and the seconds are inconsequential, Gabriel outwardly calm even as his thoughts churn and roil, a frothing storm surge sweeping through the ordered corridors of his mind.

Arthur Kirkland, truly, is a force of nature: wild, chaotic and difficult - if not impossible - to predict. As much the swift stream running, silent, calm and deadly, through the forest as the lightning-struck pine crashing down into the undergrowth. Not one for subtleties outside of his own sharp mind, his general speech and attitude are as forthright as his behaviour.

In lesser creatures, Gabriel might find such conduct to be rude, but Arthur Kirkland is no lesser being. Fascinating, diverting, uncouth and inconvenient, the omega is ever true to himself. One cannot blame the wind for blowing, the sea for its tumultuous waves or the thunder for its rumbling and roar - and so to rage against Arthur Kirkland’s nature seems as pointless and arrogant a pursuit as Cnut and the tides.

The evening’s events are only proof of concept: Arthur Kirkland - with not more than a little assistance from Ludwig Beilschmidt - has, once more, upended so many of Gabriel’s preconceptions of him. Thrust news of his motherhood, of his six month-old daughter, at Gabriel with the same fumbling gracelessness as his itchy scarf (some mixed wool and polyester blend. With too much emphasis on the polyester).

Gabriel rubs the scarf’s fabric between fingers and thumb, resisting the temptation - for now - to raise it to his nose and inhale all that it has to offer. The texture of the material makes his mouth twist but pulling lightly at the weave releases a little of the scent trapped in its fibres - of bittersweet tea, of woodsy apples roasted in a smoking campfire, of the clean sharp tang of the cold fresh air. Arthur. Chaotic nature distilled… and then doused in a gallon of some truly appalling aftershave. Another one of Arthur Kirkland’s forts against the world: perhaps one of both his simplest and strongest in a society where so much is observed and assumed about an individual based upon the scents emanating from their skin.

The cologne - cheap, mass-produced, and likely marketed to nose-blind betas - had hidden the manifold scents rearing an infant would leave on a parent from even Gabriel’s keen nose: the particular floral odours of baby shampoos and lotions, the unfortunate but necessary smells of spit-up and dirty diapers. The cologne had even hidden the scent of lactation on Arthur until the omega had stood close enough to Gabriel for the doctor to hold or bite or kiss, close enough for Gabriel to take in great lungfuls of Arthur’s natural scent and all the hormones thrumming under Arthur’s skin. The deep collar of Arthur’s shirt that day had gaped open just enough for a little of the rich, mingled perfume of milk and warm skin to escape, the wrap-style of the clothing no doubt making it easy for Arthur to either pump or breastfeed his child whilst leaving one side of his chest still covered, the double-lined material of the front an aid in hiding accidental leaks.

Put on the spot about the existence of his infant daughter, Arthur had been self-conscious and yet refused to be shamed. Defiant in his status as a single mother with no ring on his finger, no bonding bite left on that lovely long neck of his, and no glimpse of marks left by fangs on the scent glands - just - peeking out from under Arthur’s tight cuffs. More embarrassed, in truth, by the need to rely on another person in the care of his child, by the practicalities such an endeavour requires, than being known as used goods to society, the flustered bloom of blood rising up Arthur’s throat and across his cheeks like red dye drawn up the stem of a thirsty white rose.

Gabriel had had plans to make a hearty Italian beef stew for his dinner that night, a dish meant to be simmered for almost an hour. It would have been a time-consuming creation but one more than worth the wait, the stew enriched with butter, juniper berries, herbs and a generous splash of a robust red wine, served on a bed of buttery polenta stirred with Fontina cheese. Another large glass of wine on the side.

Now, instead, Gabriel must gather all his whirring thoughts together and focus on a child. Because Arthur Kirkland has a child - and not just any child, but an infant still on the teat. A daughter at that.

(How much of his girl does Arthur see when he looks at the still sleeping Madeline Williams?)

The Quantico Academy crèche is more prepared for Gabriel’s arrival than Gabriel himself is. Naturally, with Arthur’s text messages already in his pocket confirming the Kirklands’ address and other such important information, Gabriel is the very image of perfect composure as he reaches crèche’s reception, tacking an amiable smile onto his face even as a frustrated toddler located somewhere in the establishment’s confines begins to let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“Dr. Gabriel Fernandes.” He introduces himself to the crèche worker fronting the desk, both of them pretending that the screaming going on somewhere in the closed-off area behind her isn’t trying to drill a hole in both of their skulls. “I’m here to collect Lenore Kirkland. Professor Kirkland informed me that he would call ahead…?”

The crèche worker - an omega, by the sweet pheromones Gabriel can scent from her as she ducks her head, and called Katya according to the hand-written name-tag pinned high on her shirt - bends over to consult the screen of a nearby computer.

(Politely - and not unsympathetically as a fellow member of the Overworker of Shirt Buttons Society -, Gabriel averts his eyes. There is no way to avoid noticing that Katya is particularly well-endowed when it comes to her bosom, and, when she leans forward, her breasts do their best to fall out of her straining shirt.)

Katya chews on her lower lip as she clicks the mouse once, twice - and then smiles, looking back up at Gabriel. “I have you on the list. If I could just check your ID?” Gabriel unclips his visitor badge for a moment to show her more closely. “Thank you, doctor. If you’ll just give me a few moments, I’ll have Lenore brought out for you.”

Gabriel nods and the crèche worker disappears into the restricted area behind her. Distracting himself by silently critiquing the terribly ugly cartoon clown someone has painted on a nearby wall until another worker returns to the reception to hand Gabriel a large leather bag in dark blue.

“Miss Kirkland’s go-bag. Katya’s just getting her into her cardigan.” His name-tag reads Valentino.

Valentino leaves again, and Gabriel checks the bag - clean diapers and baby onesies, baby wipes, medicated cream for diaper rash, two pacifiers, and one full bottle of milk with its cap screwed tightly in place - before slinging the main strap over his shoulder. One arm now fully occupied with the go-bag and his own briefcase, breathing a sigh of relief when the one-toddler shrieking disaster siren finally quietens down.

Katya returns, her own arms full with what looks like nothing more than Little Red Riding Hood in miniature, a pair of big, drowsy green eyes and a mop of dark curls. “Somebody decided to take an unscheduled nap, so they’re a little sleepy right now.” She smiles at Gabriel conspiratorially, mock-whispering: “Should make for a quiet ride home.”

“We can hope,” Gabriel answers on autopilot, inwardly marvelling at the curious blankness of his thoughts in that moment as he is handed the terribly precious, warm little flour-sack weight that is Lenore Kirkland for the first time.

Lenore has no such vacuity to worry about; her opinion on being disturbed from dozing off again and then transferred from the arms of the familiar Katya to those of a stranger is obviously and immediately clear. Small starfish hands immediately splay themselves on Gabriel’s chest and push to put as much distance between Lenore’s little baby body and Gabriel’s as possible, Lenore screwing her face up at Gabriel in a perfect imitation of her mother’s little thundercloud of a scowl.

Something strangely soft and curious blooms in the space behind Gabriel’s sternum. He examines it, turning the emotion this way and that as he settles Lenore more comfortably into the crook of his arm, and is surprised to realise that it’s fondness.

It really has been some time since Gabriel last held an infant. At some obligatory social event celebrating the birth of a new baby, perhaps? Surely not so long ago as his days as a surgeon, but long enough that he feels mildly confounded by how much attitude the six month-old that has just been transferred into his care manages to convey. Lenore has, it seems, decided upon continuing to scowl at Gabriel rather than cry about the strange alpha holding her, continuing to push indignantly at Gabriel’s chest with her red mittens dangling from the sleeves of her hooded cardigan. 

What had Gabriel expected when he had first learnt that Arthur Kirkland had a child? Gabriel isn’t sure now, cannot quite say if he ever reached any definite theory to settle upon - but is not surprised in the slightest that Lenore Kirkland is a beautiful little girl.

She has her mother’s pale, English Rose complexion, dainty snub nose and eyes of absinthe-aurora borealis green. Her features do, of course, have smaller proportions than Arthur’s and she has soft, round baby chubby cheeks in place of his high, thin bones, but the main thing that differentiates Lenore from her mother is her hair. Rather than Arthur’s messy fluff of relatively straight blond locks, Lenore seems to have inherited a head of longer wild curls, her tresses glossy black in colour, with all the gleam of a raven’s wing.

Arthur, too, has dressed his daughter in more stylish clothes than he wears himself: dark blue footed pyjamas, covered in embroidered red roses, over her cotton bodysuit and socks, and a hooded cardigan in red cotton over that with mock-wooden buttons. The cardigan’s hood has a face knitted into its weave and small floppy ears attached, but the tail sewn to the back of the clothing is too stubby for Gabriel to tell whether the animal depicted is meant to be a red panda or a fox. A wooden pacifier with a silicone bead clip is attached to Lenore’s pyjamas, tucked underneath the cardigan, and a stretchy red headband keeps Lenore’s tousled curls from off her face. Dangling red mittens - their string threaded through the cardigan’s sleeves - complete the look and do their best to keep the infant wearing them warm.

A rose, a red panda, and a fox. A princess, a pixie, and a dumpling.

The strength in Lenore’s young arms gives way at last, and the little girl flops forward against Gabriel’s shoulder and chest with a small and huffy yah. A little chirp of confusion follows: Lenore has found herself with a faceful of her mother’s brown scarf, the familiar smoky apple-spice-and-pine scent imbued into the fabric completely at odds with the strange alpha wearing it.

“She took her evening bottle as usual,” Katya says as Lenore reaches up with one hand to begin curiously patting at Gabriel’s face, Gabriel clearly having passed a silent test from both of them, “so she shouldn’t want her next until the usual time.”

Gabriel has no idea when the usual time might be, but he is quite sure that Lenore will let him know when she is hungry again.

Lenore smacks Gabriel on the nose, and then squeals in ticklish delight when Gabriel blows a long stream of breath onto her palm to make her take it off again. Her little covered feet softly kick-kick Gabriel under the ribs - and the mitten attached to her one flailing hand decides to whap Gabriel in the eye.

“You will make your mother jealous if you manage to give me a black eye before he does,” Gabriel quite seriously informs the child, blinking away the brief pain of synthetic wool smacking into his eyeball. If they’re at the point of grievous bodily harm already, formal greetings are probably long overdue. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Boulette. Enchanté de vous rencontrer.” He means it too. Surprising himself once more.

Lenore blinks back up at him for a moment before bursting into a burbling stream of - what sounds approximately like - kikiahyah.

“Oh, of course,” says Katya as though this pronouncement makes perfect sense to her. She beams at Gabriel. “Let me just grab you her kitty.” To Gabriel’s blank look: “Her comfort toy.”

Gabriel is beginning to wonder whether babysitting Arthur Kirkland’s child will require him to surgically attach a third arm to his body. “Of course,” he echoes Katya with draining optimism, sighing as the crèche worker leaves him - them - again.

Lenore pats him consolingly on the chin, and giggles when Gabriel playfully bares his fangs at her. She reaches up to touch those too, wholly unafraid and laughing again when Gabriel gently nips at her inquisitive fingertips. Fearless little thing. (So much for her being sleepy.)

It is easier to scent Lenore now that she is more comfortable with Gabriel, this soft, sweet little sucking pig made plump and tender on her mother’s rich milk. As an unpresented child, she has no real scent of her own outside of that creamy smell of milk and the mild, almost powdery scent all infants share, but, under the bright apple-and-pear scent of her shampoo, beneath the apricot, vanilla and sandalwood of Lenore’s body lotion, Gabriel can detect traces of Arthur: the spiced apple, ink and old paper notes from Arthur holding his child, the same laundry detergent and softener that Arthur uses on his own clothes. The scent of Arthur’s love all over Lenore, holding her even when Arthur cannot.

“Ba,” says Lenore in response to Gabriel’s nose tickling her temples, squirming around in his hold until she can snuffle him back. She squishes her small - and thankfully, after some minor miracle has no doubt been worked by the workers at the crèche that day, clean - face up against Gabriel’s jaw, clumsily copying what the alpha is doing to her and scenting Gabriel in return. Picking up the scent of her mother at the same time, Arthur’s scarf marking Gabriel as safe.

Gabriel resists the urge to rub his cheek over the crown of the little girl’s head, unsure what Arthur’s response might be should he return and find his infant daughter with Gabriel’s scent mark on her, smelling so strongly of an unrelated alpha. Omegas have - quite instinctively - murdered for less in the past when it comes to protecting their beloved offspring.

“I haven’t introduced myself to you properly yet, have I?” Gabriel inquires of Lenore instead, setting down his briefcase for a moment so he can gently tug Arthur’s scarf out of the infant’s mouth and place her pacifier there instead. “That’s rude of me. I am Dr. Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes, a colleague of your mother’s.”

Lenore, eyes wide now, has nothing more to say to that - but erupts into a delighted stream of kikikiki when Katya returns from the back area of the crèche with a small brown stuffed toy in her hands.

The worker spares Gabriel from a display of his juggling skills by handing the toy directly to Lenore, the infant bubbling over in delight with a pronounced “Kiki!” as she spits out her pacifier and stuffs one of her toy’s soft floppy ears into her mouth to replace it.

“Couldn’t let you go home without her now, could we?” Katya coos to the child, giving one last pat to Lenore’s round cheek before she retreats again.

Gabriel does not wish to imagine the kind of baby temper tantrum he might have had to endure if they had. He pulls Kitty’s ear from out of Lenore’s mouth and tries to give the girl her pacifier back - sighing inwardly when he realises Kitty is actually a small stuffed dog.

Arthur Kirkland, contrary as always.

Katya looks at him expectantly, friendlier than ever with one more of her charges safely dispensed with for the night. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Dr. Fernandes?”

“We should be fine from here,” says Gabriel as he picks up his briefcase again. “Thank you.” He has his work, all the keys he needs for Arthur’s home and vehicle, the diaper bag and Lenore Kirkland, and Lenore has her dog toy named after a cat stuffed in her mouth again.

They head for the Academy parking lot. Much like Gabriel expects her mother might be, Lenore is terribly unimpressed by Gabriel’s lecture en-route on the oral phase as presented by Freudian psychoanalysis. She doesn’t stop chewing on Kitty, at any rate.

Arthur’s Volvo presents a much more riveting diversion for both of them, as Gabriel must first find where Arthur has parked the vehicle before he can set down his bags and begin the calculations for how he’s going to get Lenore’s seat from the back of Arthur’s car and across the parking lot into his own Bentley. Strapping Lenore into her seat, locking the Volvo and then going to bring his Bentley around seems like the most sensible option to Gabriel - but he has no idea where to even begin when it comes to removing the baby seat from the back of the Volvo. It might as well be riveted in place for all the movement it makes when Gabriel jiggles at it, and the fabric covering the backseat of the car strains ominously under pressure. Gabriel imagines the same forces at work on the luxury cream leather covering the seats in his Bentley and winces.

“Huh,” says Lenore from her vantage point against Gabriel’s shoulder, Kitty dangling from one of her chubby little hands and smearing drool all down the arm of Gabriel’s overcoat. “Ahnooyah.”

“You said it,” Gabriel sighs, looking down at her - only to have some immediate concerns that, judging by her face, the little one may be concentrating on a particularly complicated bowel movement.

A moment’s consternation and a blink later and - Lenore blinks as well before she resumes staring up at Gabriel’s face with rapt fascination. She’s… trying to mimic his expression, her young mirror neurons hard at work to improve her social skills. Gabriel makes it easier for her by smiling a smile he hardly feels and Lenore smiles too - but not without tilting her head curiously, those big green eyes of hers bright with a keen sort of understanding that Gabriel is more accustomed to seeing in the gaze of her mother.

How marvellous.

“‘Thou art thy mother’s glass,’” Gabriel murmurs to the child, brushing a rebellious lock of dark hair from off her forehead even as little flapping hands, mittens and a stuffed toy come up to bat at his fingers again. Only time will tell how much of her mother’s skills Lenore retains as she grows older.

Gabriel accepts the inevitable (or least disastrous) option and buckles Lenore into her seat in the back of the Volvo. Sliding behind the driver’s wheel of the car himself and placing both his briefcase and the diaper bag in the passenger side’s footwell beside him.

A very faint note of dogs hangs in the air inside the Volvo alongside the scent of Arthur, but the car’s seats are a great deal freer of canine fur than Arthur’s person might - occasionally - make one assume they might be. It speaks volumes as to Arthur’s dedication for cleaning - though Arthur’s taste in music is still a lost cause, Gabriel’s face twisting as the radio comes on as he’s still readjusting the driver’s seat to accommodate his legs.

In the interests of lulling Lenore into sleepiness again, Gabriel switches the radio over from the local soft rock station Arthur had had it on to a classical one instead. Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu in C♯ minor should be a soothing enough piece to send Lenore off into a light doze at least, Gabriel’s eyes flicking between the road in front of him as he pulls out of the Academy parking lot and the little girl still idly chewing on her toy in the car seat behind him. Lenore smiles and burbles a nooba around Kitty’s ear when she meets Gabriel’s eyes in the front mirror, but otherwise seems quite content in her car seat, watching the world pass by the Volvo’s windows. A much happier little soul than her mother.

And just as stubborn. (Perhaps the world-altering effect of the Kirklands is something genetic?) Fantaisie-Impromptu fades into Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, Prélude and still Lenore is awake.

“I will talk about Freudian psychoanalysis again,” Gabriel threatens her half-heartedly as he sets them on the road to Wolf Trap. “I have a degree.” He has several degrees to his name, in fact, not that any of them will mean much to a six month-old except as something new for her to chew on.

Lenore only gurgles with another bout of baby laughter, her cheeks pink and eyes bright as she squishes Kitty to her chest. Charming but vexing - and infinitely preferable to her filling up her diaper.

“Ma boulette,” Gabriel sighs at her. Fofinho. He knows a lost cause when he sees one. “What am I to do with you?”

*****

*****

Katya - Ukraine Valentino - Seborga

With thanks, still, to the FAD server who originally helped me brainstorm ideas for the name of Lenore’s plushie, and Doc who came up with Kitty!

Gabriel is less likely to specifically name his recipes than Hannibal is, but the Italian stew he mentions in this chapter is a Carbonade Valdostana: https://www.greatitalianchefs.com/recipes/carbonade-valdostana-recipe

Thou art thy mother’s glass - Sonnet 3, by William Shakespeare

I’ve always headcanoned Port as a polyglot, and it’s partially why he works so well for the Hannibal role in this adaptation. In this ‘verse, there are dark places in his mind associated with his childhood where he spoke Portuguese, so his babytalk will tend more towards the language of his early adolescence - French.

NEXT CHAPTER

[wardensantoineandevka]

There's something incredible and skillful on Travis' part about how little Nathaniel actually directly says about suspicions of institutional weaknesses in Candela and how in the conversation in the carriage, he doesn't really directly lodge any serious accusations against Candela—the others all do, and Marion even encourages Nathaniel to be less hesitant and hedging in his verbiage. Travis as Nathaniel bolded and italicized, just for highlighting:

BRENNAN: They told the kid she was dead? TRAVIS: Yes. BRENNAN: How sick do you got to be where you go, "Hey, we got to break it to the kid soft. Just tell them she's dead." LUIS: Right? I guess there's things worse than dead. I guess. Well, clearly we know there's things that are worse than dying, but. TRAVIS: I know there's an amount of trust we all have with this organization. We see what we're fighting against. We know what sort of evil there is in the world, not just the kind that we make. But-- LUIS: But they withhold a lot. TRAVIS: It feels that way. LUIS: It is that way. Would you have risked everything we did for what they explained was in that container? A creature that's used to get people high? That's all there is to that. ZEHRA: There-- Marion, if I may, there may be-- It's deeply disappointing to understand that money seems to move a lot of these organizations through the world. There may have been monetary gain that Candela was trying to prevent by stopping the androphage transfer. There are certain groups that would pay a great sum for it. All I'm saying is maybe Candela isn't immune to some of these capital gains. MARISHA: Well, look. Any institution, even an institution that stands up against institutions, well, I mean they're not immune from their own organizational flaws. However, I would still like to believe that out of all of the other capitalistic and governmental factions that rule our day-to-day lives that hopefully we're choosing the one lesser evil. TRAVIS: Ms. Monroe. Beatrix. You've been with the organization longer than any, and I've looped my men into this with a certain amount of trust. Have you ever seen anyone marked by bleed changed? Have you ever seen them made whole, amended? MARISHA: I tend to find sometimes the best route is to just keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. Oftentimes you'll learn far more than what people can tell you. We've all been touched by bleed, whether we want to accept that or not. No, I guess, to answer your question, not to, what it sounds, the severity of Allison's level was. But I would still like to believe that that's why we're fighting. You certainly had no problems standing up and calling out the organization to Mr. Kingsley. Which is a little bit surprising, I got to say, Nathaniel, for someone who's quite the institutional man himself. TRAVIS: Force of habit, I'm afraid. ZEHRA: Well, speaking of Mr. Kingsley, what did he mean when he said it was someone above his head who made the decision to tell Lucas, was it, the boy? TRAVIS: Lucas. ZEHRA: That his mother was dead? Someone above a Lightkeeper's head. LUIS: Everybody answers to somebody else. BRENNAN: I don't know if that's true. I guess there's got to be a few people don't answer to anybody.

Generally, the way Travis handles Nathaniel's exposition in the carriage is blisteringly efficient on an informational and emotional level without ever feeling heavy-handed, but I think this sowing seeds of doubt in an institution (which seems to be a major theme in this chapter) is very skillful in its subtlety. Given that he's emotionally close to this incident and is a character conceptualized around corruptions and abuses of power, Nathaniel is unexpectedly spare in this sequence of exchanges, most significantly only delivering a set-up and pulling Beatrix in. He interestingly takes more of a listening role in this sequence, despite the fact that he is delivering almost all information and doing most of the thematic set-up.

His accusations are few and the ones he makes are mild and hesitant. The most he directly says is an interrupted "but" that leaves a hanging implication. But that tiny crack drives everyone else to start speculating about the whys and hows and whats of what is going on, and it feels very natural and is very skillful. Nathaniel clearly has his doubts and his experiences and doubts are the center of this conversation, but by holding off on actually voicing them directly, it gives everyone else space to guess at where he's going and leaves it open for others to contribute.

It's really skillful work as a player and a scene partner, especially as someone who is setting up the episode's plot and seeding what feels like may be one of the major themes of this chapter about institutional distrust and power and capital.

[hrodvitnon]

Abraxasverse Headcanons - Titans and Classification

Some headcanons of mine about the Abraxasverse’s monsters. ;)

1. After Godzilla’s crowning at the end of the Mass Awakening, with both Protectors and Destroyers submitting to him, Monarch needed to instigate a new Titan classification system to distinguish the “ally” Titans from new “hostile” Titans. Apart from Alpha Titans whom are their own category in this new system, the other Titans, Sub-Titans and M.U.T.O.s fall under two distinct categories:

(a) Monsters that directly acknowledge and submit to an Alpha Titan like Godzilla or Kong as their head honcho, and serve them when called. (Shall we call this category Subjects? Lord Titans? Subordinates? Thralls?) Rodan, Scylla, Methuselah, Barb, and the Hawk Monster from the Skull Island series (if it exists in Abraxasverse) would all fall under this category.

(b) Monsters that don’t answer to/won’t answer to any Alpha Titan, and strictly serve their own wants, urges and ambitions even if it brings them into direct conflict with an Alpha. Camazotz, Skullcrawlers, the 2014 Mutos, and creatures which fight to the death trying to kill Kong like the Mire Squid, and Killer Chameleons (if they exist in Abraxasverse) would all fall under this category. (Shall we call this category Rogues? Independents? Autons? Solitaries?)

2. The Titans/Sub-Titans/other M.U.T.O.s overall vary in intelligence and sentience depending upon the species:

Most to all of the “big ones” (Godzilla, Kong, Ghidorah, Rodan, Mothra, Thor, most Mass Awakening Titans) we already know are human levels of intelligent and self-aware.

But a lot of other creatures, mostly lesser M.U.T.O.s and Sub-Titans have much more primitive, basic, simple and animalistic minds - they’re just animalistically semi-sentient or non-sentient. If Abraxas or another Titan tried to communicate with a semi-sentient lesser M.U.T.O., it would only be able to understand or communicate back select things mostly related to their natural instincts and habitation and memories, and its Animal Talk would probably just be broken words and phrases rather than the fully-intelligent Titans’ complete “sentences.”

---

I dig it! “Lord Titans” sounds cool honestly, as it indicates a position of power and responsibilities that being a lord would come with, albeit from a giant monster standpoint. Rodan would love being called a Lord Titan, of course. “Rogues” seems an appropriate category for Titans who are only interested in doing their own thing. Sub-Titans having more halted communications is a good idea too, as it shows they’re still intelligent but in a more clearly animalistic way.

Man, you know the brainrot ain’t letting go anytime soon when you read “communications and airwaves [...] mindscrews” and your knee-jerk reaction is hearing the Three Note Oddity play in your mind... which I can imagine Gigan or even his followers employing for more subtle fuckery. Gigan handles the more overt and visceral radio mimicry when tormenting his prey. The members of the fleet however are fascinated by these old number stations humans used, adopting the old transmissions and adding their own subliminal subtleties to them...

Achtung, achtung...

[dailycharacteroption]

Deity Drop 6: Daclau-Sar

We’re back with more deities, and we’re starting off with another lesser divinity in the form of our first nascent demon lord!

With extremely rare exceptions, demon lords do not emerge fully-formed from the Abyss. Usually, such paragons of evil arise over time, though the starting point may vary. Some demons spend millenia rising through the ranks of their kind, while some mortal souls were so wicked that they immediately ascended to nascent status immediately upon entering the abyss.

No matter where they start, however, nascent demon lords have become powerful enough to take on a unique form separate from the rank and file of demonkind. Such a form may be influenced by who they were in life, or the circumstances of their ascension or the forms of evil they favored. However, they are not quite as powerful as true demon lords, and not strong enough claim an abyssal realm of their own. Instead, they lurk in semi-private corners of individual layers of the abyss, including those ruled by true demon lords, whom they live in concealed fear of, hoping to grow in power enough to ascend before they decide that the newcomer is a threat to their power.

In any case, that brings us to today’s subject: Daclau-Sar, the Lord of Carrion!

Long ago, the demon lord Lamashtu tricked the god Curchanus into a trap and slew him, taking his dominion over beasts, an act which fueled her ascension into true, terrible godhood, leaving the slain deity’s carcass to rot.

From his defiled corpse, however, arose a new demon-lord-to-be in the form of Daclau-Sar, the patron of carrion, the scavengers that feed on it, and the defilement of corpses. However, unlike other demons of his status, he has no interest in subtlety or politics, and if he has any plans of ascending to become a demon lord in his own right, it is through the gradual process of continuing to indulge in his foul hungers and gather worshippers until he accumulates enough sinful power to do so.

While not spawned by Lamashtu, Daclau-Sar has an appearance befitting the Mother of Monster’s progeny, resembling a six-legged hyena with two heads and a pair of vulture’s wings on his back.

As mentioned above, Daclau-Sar has no realm of his own, and instead dwells in the Xorian Mountains, a region on the border of Lamashtu’s realm of Kurnugia, where he rules over the lesser monsters there and feasts upon their slain.

Like all of his power level, Daclau-Sar has few worshippers, but he does have notable followings among some remote tribes of the orcs in the Holds of Belkzen, who emulate their Lord of Carrion by picking battlefields of corpses for use as trophies, as materials for undead war-beasts, or as the main course in their rot-blighted feasts. It is likely they and other such worshippers believe they gain some power over death by utilizing mortal remains, as well as demonstrating their right to survive by consuming those who failed to.

As a nascent demon lord, Daclau-Sar doesn’t quite move in the circles to have a lot of relationships with other powers, not that he has much interest in other powers unless they get between him and a meal, or look like they’d be appetizing once bloated and rotting to perfection. It can be assumed, however, that he has a wary fearful respect for true demon lords and deities, especially Lamashtu, and does not care to know or learn about non-evil entities beyond their role at the dinner table.

High in the Xorian Mountains, the Lord of Carrion rules over a petty court of monsters and lesser demons on the outskirts of Lamashtu’s territory, though calling it a court gives it far too much credit. In truth, Daclau-Sar makes the rounds bullying the other denizens of his territory, giving them full knowledge that he will devour their corpses when they are dead, and that will be very soon if they do not obey. Only the knowledge that his target is a servant of the Mother of Monsters might give him pause, the emphasis being on “might”.

As a creature barely above a beast himself, it only makes sense that Daclau-Sar favors the Animal domain, as well as Destruction, and of course Chaos and Evil. Meanwhile, he favors the subdomains of Demon (by way of Chaos or Evil), Feathers, Fur, and Rage. All of which reflect his nature as a master of the corpse-devouring beasts and his viciousness.

Sadly, nascent demon lords have not been given the deity treatment in Second Edition, so we have nothing much to go on here.

He does, however, have an obedience, albeit granting only a few spells. In exchange for eating a pound of carrion each day, the worshipper becomes more resistant to disease, and can cast magic to devour the ebbing life of the dying, spread disease, and take on powerful beastial forms.

Daclau-Sar hasn’t been mentioned in Starfinder, so he might have been slain, ascended, or remained as he was. He might have an influence on any world or civilization where it is considered unclean or taboo to devour the dead.

In any case, that does it for today, but the week is just beginning, so look forward to more as the week progresses!

[pure-garbage]

Moniker For A Gastropod? Multiplying Enemies And Diminutive Allies!

Lana watched through the eyes of the transponder snails as a host of events played out across the island. There wasn't much that made sense to her. She saw enormous children being shepherded through the halls, steered carefully clear of a wide path of devastation that she recognized at once as Zoro's handiwork. The sight brought a little smile to her face.

"Not one for subtlety," she noted with some amusement.

She saw men outside struggling to gain entrance to the lab and watched with grit teeth as the situation grew ever more dire for her crew. In a hallway, one scene tore her attention away from all the others.

The swordsman who'd defeated her was getting his ass absolutely handed to him by a man wielding a bamboo shoot. Lana shuddered a little.

"Guess the smug bastard had a beating coming, but... how powerful is that other guy anyway?" she wondered. "His haki must be outrageously strong if he can handle that swordsman so easily."

She wouldn't have been able to tear her gaze away from the spectacle, but something else caught her attention.

"Zoro's not the only friend I have the lab right now," she realized, zeroing in on one snail's feed in particular. "Chopper? What's he doing in there? Mixing up some kind of medicine? Ugh, there's too much going on! None of it makes any sense because I have no idea what's going on... okay!"

She took a deep breath, hoping to calm her agitated thoughts and slow her racing heart.

"I need to focus. Luffy's been captured, my focus needs to be setting him free. That's the first goal. Obviously, duh."

She rose, releasing the influence of her power on the room around her and lifting the library Feng-sui. The footsteps she heard from outside were faint and far away. A quick peek back inside the mind the transponder snail informed her that no one was close.

"What a useful little slimy thing you are," Lana purred, stroking the snail's shell. She could feel its apprehension, yet unsoothed by the time they'd spent together. To be fair, Lana could only assume her trips inside its consciousness weren't exactly pleasant for the little creature. "Maybe I'll take you with me... would you like to come along with Auntie Lana and be her cute little eye-in-the-sky pet? Hmm? Good snail..."

She dashed through the halls, using the snail to find the blind spots of its comrades and avoid patrol groups. A quick peek across the other channels informed her that Luffy, Robin, Franky and the marines had all been tossed in a cage along with the power-holder swordsman. Zoro, meanwhile, was on the move. She slapped a palm to her face in consternation.

"How the hell did he get all the way to the other side of the lab so fast?! What's he trying to do anyway? Gah, I guess it would just be too convenient if we could meet up and he could help me defeat the two holding our crewmates... Do I have time to chase after him? There's no way I can take on the guy that beat up that swordsman with the fluffy hat. That would be suicide... but Zoro's just getting farther away by the minute! Damn it! I need a plan!"

Another straw hat caught her attention, streaking past a video feed in a furry blur. Chopper wasn't far away at all. In fact, he was currently making himself as small as possible, peeking around corners to keep an eye on Luffy and the others.

"Hm... Chopper, huh?" Lana mused. She changed direction and made a beeline for the gaggle of her crewmates. "He can't beat haki man either, but... with the right plan..."

Lana knew haki man was out of her league, but the lab was full of lesser minions that wouldn't pose her any challenge at all. On top of that, she knew the lab held more than just enemies.

"I can use their own stuff against them," she reasoned. She had one hand in her pocket, maintaining contact with her abducted transponder snail. She used it once more to search through channels, flipping her attention from one set of bestalked eyeballs to the next while she looked for the items that would help her rescue her crew.

"I should give you a name," she mused as she browsed through the differing fields of vision the snails had to offer. "Do... do you already have a name?"

The snail was deaf and mute, but it could feel the intent of her question. It responded with vague intent of its own. Lana got the feeling that it did not, in fact, have a name.

"Let's pick a name," she grinned while she flew through the halls. She had found what she was looking for. All she had to do now was get it. "How about... Reggie? Marie? Claus? Oh! Kipper!"

The snail offered nothing but dismay at the suggestions, so Lana kept cycling through the random names popping into her head, hoping to settle on one that her little pet would take a liking to.

________________________________________

'This is bad!'

Chopper watched the events unfolding around the corner from him with growing concern and alarm. He hadn't forgotten the reason he was in the lab to begin with, but he couldn't just walk away from his captive crew either.

"Psst! Pssst!"

"Huh?"

Lana summoned Chopper's attention from the end of the hall to avoid startling him. His eyes grew wide and he dashed over to her at once, all but knocking her off her feet with his enthusiasm.

"Lana! I'm so happy to see you! Where were you?! Everyone was so worried when we woke up and you weren't with us!"

He spoke in a whisper, but his tone was fervent.

"I'm fine, I got in a fight and it took me away," Lana explained briefly, dismissively.

"A fight?! When, after we were all gassed?!" Chopper asked with confusion as he tried to envision the progression of events. "Did you wake up before the rest of us?"

"I never passed out."

"What?!"

"Yeah, it's a crazy coincidence, but the gas they used to knock the crew out was derived from grey clover," Lana explained. "I've got a tolerance."

"Why would you have a tolerance to... oh."

Chopper's expansive medical knowledge lent him an understanding of what must have happened, albeit one that he didn't realize until a second later.

"Oh! That's right, I've read that grey clover is commonly used as a means of birth control in the West Blue. I uh... wow, yeah, I guess it would make sense for you to have a tolerance if you've been using it," he reasoned. His cheeks flushed slightly under his fur as he was filled with eagerness to move on from the topic. He noticed the sack Lana was dragging with her and seized the opportunity it presented. "Hey, uh... what's in the bag?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Lana replied with a grin. "This bag is full of stuff that's gonna help us free Luffy and the others."

"It is?"

"Yep. Now listen close. Here's the plan."

_______________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[thatghastlyghoul]

80s-horror-movies-nostalgic-cheesy

Dive into the spine-tingling world of 80s horror movies! From the nostalgic charm to the iconic soundtracks, these films are a must-watch for any horror enthusiast. Join us as we explore the cheesy yet captivating world of 80s horror and relive the thrills and chills that defined a generation.

A New twist on the Age of Horror: 80s Flicks That Still Haunt Our Dreams

Welcome, horror aficionados, to a time when big hair, neon colors, and synthesizers ruled the silver screen. The 80s were a golden age for horror movies, where practical effects reigned supreme and suspense was served with a side of cheese. Join us as we take a trip down memory lane and revisit the spine-tingling world of 80s horror, where nostalgia, soundtracks, and cheesy goodness collide.

Section 1: Nostalgia Strikes Back

Ah, the 80s, a decade that still holds a special place in our hearts. From the iconic slasher flicks to supernatural horrors, these movies defined a generation. Whether you were hiding behind your popcorn or laughing at the absurdity, these films left an indelible mark on our collective psyche.

Section 2: The Soundtracks That Haunt Us

One cannot talk about 80s horror movies without mentioning the unforgettable soundtracks that accompanied them. Synth-heavy melodies, eerie compositions, and haunting tunes became the heartbeat of these films. From John Carpenter's chilling scores to Beltrami and his atmospheric soundscapes, the music added an extra layer of terror and excitement.

Section 3: Cheesy Delights

Let's face it, 80s horror movies were not known for their subtlety. They embraced the cheesy and the over-the-top, delivering a unique blend of horror and humor. From killer dolls to man-eating plants, these films pushed the boundaries of absurdity, leaving us both terrified and entertained.

Section 4: Slashers Galore

The 80s gave birth to some of the most iconic slasher villains in cinematic history. Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, and Michael Myers became household names, haunting our dreams and inspiring countless sequels. These masked maniacs carved their way into our hearts, forever cementing their place in horror lore.

Section 5: Practical Effects Magic

Before the era of CGI, practical effects reigned supreme in 80s horror movies. From gruesome creature designs to jaw-dropping gore, the talented artists behind these films brought nightmares to life. The result? A visual feast that still holds up today, reminding us of the craftsmanship and creativity that went into making these terrifying tales.

Section 6: Cult Classics and Hidden Gems

While some 80s horror movies achieved mainstream success, others found their cult following years later. From lesser-known gems like "The Changeling" to the campy brilliance of "Basket Case," these films offer a treasure trove of hidden scares for those willing to explore beyond the mainstream.

Section 7: The Final Girl Phenomenon

The 80s introduced us to the concept of the "final girl" – the resourceful, resilient female protagonist who outwits the killer and survives until the credits roll. These strong female characters became an empowering symbol for audiences, breaking the mold of the helpless victim and paving the way for future horror heroines.

Section 8: The Legacy Lives On

Decades may have passed, but the influence of 80s horror movies can still be felt today. From modern homages to remakes and reboots, the spirit of these films continues to captivate new generations of horror fans. The 80s may be long gone, but their legacy of fear and fun lives on.

Section 9: Lights Out, But the Nightmares Remain

As we bid farewell to the 80s horror movie era, we can't help but feel a mix of nostalgia, excitement, and a tinge of fear. These films may have been cheesy, but they left an indelible mark on our souls. So, grab your popcorn, turn off the lights, and prepare for a journey into the heart of 80s horror – a world where nightmares come alive and the scares never fade away. It's never a true farewell as horror fans know.

[yogeshblogs]

Explore The Culture And Traditions Of Jaisalmer With Heritage Tours

Jaisalmer, home to the celebrated Brilliant Post, is a little city settled in the Thar, with a magnificent craving for experience and euphoria. This once hustling and clamoring stronghold city might have lost a portion of its sparkle, yet that doesn't imply that an excursion to Jaisalmer wouldn't be worth the effort.

The city has a large group of choices to engage yourself with. Whether it accompany an exceptional one or with the entire family, Jaisalmer is a one of a kind encounter that you should visit on your visit through Rajasthan. With our Visit Bundles Jaisalmer, you are ensured to get the best visiting and convenience offices, so you can partake in the legacy and culture of the land while getting the highest level of solace on your outing. In this way, gather your sacks and prepare for an outing of legacy, social experience, and rush!

Folk Performance On The Thar

Among the numerous attractions that our Visit Bundles Jaisalmer gives to our visitors, this is a hot number one. Plan for a night you have never seen before as you get to partake in a live fork execution, complete with routine, as you watch the stars shoot about and the whole night sky opens dependent upon you. At the point when you have gone through your whole time on earth in the midst of structures and lights, you fail to remember how lovely the open sky really is. Witness it firsthand and remind yourself to make a couple of efforts on the desert sands at Jaisalmer.

We bring to you a one of a kind encounter as you get to set up camp in the desert and carry on with the conventional and roaming life of local people. Partake in your night out in the desert from the wellbeing of your tent and rest the hours away or watch as the sun ascends over the rises to illuminate the skyline like a gleam worm in obscurity.

Camel Back Ride To The Horizon

In the event that a basic night camp doesn't depend on your speed, unwind, in light of the fact that we have something that will make your hair closes stand up! Presently as a feature of the bundle, you can get to partake in a loosening up cavort through the desert on the rear of your occupant camel! Camels are a permanent piece of the desert as well as Rajasthani culture, and an excursion to Jaisalmer is deficient without a ride on these eminent monsters. Try not to take them to be slow however, these creatures can undoubtedly keep any vehicle honest, so make sure to hang on close!

Get on a camelback and investigate the great hills of Total and Khuri. As one observer the huge expanse of sand before them, one can genuinely fathom their irrelevance according to nature and become unassuming with its acknowledgment!

Dive Into The Royal Heritage Of Jaisalmer

On the off chance that you are a greater amount of the quiet and insightful sorts, hoping to get a visit through the old legacy of this marvelous city, we have quite recently the thing for you too. We offer a total visit through the most popular spots in Jaisalmer as well as a few less-eminent ones. Jaisalmer Post is a must-watch, a sparkling building of human resourcefulness and designing. The design of the post is astounding, with its smart utilization of designing procedures and methodologies to make a construction that has been representing hundreds of years.

Visit Bundles Jaisalmer likewise gives a profound plunge into the neighborhood castles and Havelis where you can get to see the exceptional primary subtleties that individuals have used to adjust to both the environment as well as actual restrictions. The whole land is loaded up with houses and castles, however Jaisalmer offers to a lesser extent a sham, which is the reason individuals can partake in the environmental elements in harmony.

Witness The Rich Variety Of Jaisalmer’s Flora and Fauna

Encircled by the desert on all sides, individuals of Jaisalmer have consistently needed to develop and consider more up to date methodologies to address their water issues. Hence, came the development of man-caused repositories that to give unending water supply around the year to the occupants. In addition, to envision that old human advancements had the expertise to make supplies that wouldn't hamper the climate is genuinely amazing.

The absolute most notorious ones incorporate the Gadisar Lake and the Amar Sagar. Both are misleadingly intended to make a repository that won't ever dry up. In addition, this has likewise prompted the encompassing being loaded up with rich plant life which welcome the most outlandish transitory birds and species. Come evening, the whole region is loaded up with the noisy bedlam of thousands of birds calling immediately! It is a straight thing out of a storybook, and except if you visit yourself, you won't trust your ears!

Experience The Local Culture At The Jaisalmer Local Bazaars

They say to know a city, know its food. However, this is India, and here the food is tracked down in the market, so an excursion to the marketplace is justified one way or the other. Visit the nearby Jaisalmer markets, to get a genuine feel of the spot. The paths might be thin and the shops grimy on occasion, yet no doubt about it!

These road side counters are to be loved, and you can experience the genuine ethos of the city. Totally not quite the same as the grocery store culture of the metropolitans, these marketplaces are filled to the edge with nearby materials, unique handiworks, little journals cut out of the renowned brilliant stone, etc. When you begin strolling through these limited roads, there is no limit to what you can find. In the event that you are a shopaholic, this is heaven for you! What's more, recollect, remember to deal, since that is the manner by which the ball turns here!

Enjoy A Lip Smacking Burst Of Flavour

An excursion to the marketplace is unfinished without a significant piece of eatables, right?! Assuming you are stressed over getting your stomach wiped out, don't, on the grounds that once you taste the lip-smacking eruption of flavors that Rajasthani food is, moving ahead is the only real option. Rajasthani food is generally vegan, yet beyond a shadow of a doubt, they know how to cook their meat! Lal Maas or Red Meat is a dish of legends, that contains slow cooked sheep in a red sauce enhanced by the neighborhood chilies. It is hot and shockingly delightful! Aside from that point are different roads to give a shot like Dal Baati Choorma, Gatte ki Sakzi as well as Rabri Malai. All of this will guarantee that there won't be a dull second on our Visit Bundles Jaisalmer!

Go Down Memory Lane With A Heritage Tour Of Jaisalmer

Thus, experience India as you have never finished before with our Visit Bundles Jaisalmer this year! Rajasthan is a land saturated with its extraordinary culture and customs, and one should visit this popular land once in their life. Why not let that time be currently?! There could be no greater time than the present, so make great of it and plan your excursion at this moment!

To remain at the most lavish areas at the best costs, pursue our administrations today! We give a sample of Rajasthan that is remarkable and unique in relation to other generally ordinary visit bundles. We comprehend that individuals need to keep away from the sham, which is the reason we bring to you the most credible Rajasthani experience you can go anyplace! Allow us an opportunity, and lose all sense of direction in the wizardry of this legendary land! If you are looking for visit these place that i have mentioned above then, I recommend you the best taxi service in Jaisalmer named as Jaisalmer Taxi Service Cab. Jaisalmer Taxi Service Cab is one of India's most dependable, cost-effective, and high-quality taxi services. They offer low-cost, high-quality cab services that guarantee a pleasant journey.

[storm-inside-my-mind]

Chapter 3

Cyril quickened his pace to keep up with her, finding her connection with her horse admirable as the two of them seem to move as one. When they met with Rowan, he looked the other man over. In his tribe, he would be considered a lesser male, as he looked weak between Faenoina and Cyril. Based on his clothing, he was similar to Faenoina when she was found in the woods, wearing elven garb that was not meant at all for traversing the woods. He caught the look of deep displeasure that the elven man did not even try to hide at the presence of the centaur. Cyril returned a similar look of disgust, knowing that his elf would not even be able to take him down, in a sanctioned fight or not. He was not unaware that his tribe was looking up at them, as they would have the deepest displeasure at the fact that he was associating himself with two-legged, who would try to tame the mighty centaur and pretend that they are friends after he has plowed their fields and worked himself to the bone. They had a deep distrust for the elf that had come and singled him out by name.

The three now stood on the ridge, the centaurs below looking up at the two elves sitting on horseback and the one centaur who was standing with them. The only thing that moved were the horses that the two were seated upon. The difference between the woman elf and the man elf was the fact that the woman’s horse looked closer to Cyril’s horse half, being larger, and looking like he could drag along heavy things with ease. The elven man’s horse was smaller and daintier, as it was used mostly for looks and not for work like Faenoina’s was. Her green eyes turned to her current elven betrothed, Rowan, as a slight wind blew her brown hair that looked almost like red fire in the slowly setting sun behind her, giving her an unearthly halo of red, almost like the heavenly body was showing how she felt inside, anger. She was angry and upset. Was it Rown’s fault, not necessarily, but he was part of the reason. Her lips were slightly pulled up in a sneer, looking more like a wolf pulling its lips back to reveal sharp teeth before attacking its prey, and attack she did.

“Rowan,” she spoke sharply to the elf, “I am officially breaking off our engagement and taking Cyril as my betrothed. You cannot hunt. You cannot ride well. You cannot make anything useful other than art or music. You celebrate nature in such things, yet you fail to capture the subtlety of the nature around you, and any introspective poem you have given me about yourself has been empty, hollow, and nothing but a prostration of showing your skill in old elvish language, and even then, you do not use it correctly. You enjoy nature when it is bent to your will and not in its pure form of wild wonder and primal beauty. You have grown slovenly for an elf, as your playing of the harp is subpar,” she said simply, “and I know you have been cheating on me while waiting for me to come of age. I know of the other women you have been laying with, the concubines you have in your kingdom. You couldn’t even leave your bed pure for me to lay in with you and decided that a whore’s cunt is better than the woman you're betrothed to. I do not wish to be married to a man slut.” Rowan sat in stunned silence as the woman who normally was cold to him had suddenly given a fiery monologue or speech right after she said she was breaking off her engagement to him. He was berated and insulted and emasculated all in one moment, in front of a filthy four-legged creature that she was bringing with them for some reason. He couldn’t seem to fathom that she was intending on betrothing the centaur instead of him. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked at her, and she scoffed at his stunned silence. She looked like a fiery angel of passion if she had not been so harsh on him, or uttered those words, he might have actually enjoyed marriage to her.

Cyril listened with a smirk as she laid into her elven betrothed with harsh words and a fiery spirit. He liked that, as the mares of his herd were so intoned into tradition that they hardly thought for themselves more than their station in the herd. It was almost comical watching her ire being thrust at Rowan. Scratch that, it truly was rather funny, as the man couldn’t even get out anything even after she had given him space to speak afterwards, or rebuke what she had said. Yet he had said nothing back. He only stared like a fish with a gaping mouth, staring at her while ignoring him for the time being. He had also learned that this elf did not value the idea of monogamy or marriage. He also learned that in some aspects, Faenoina seemed to be loyal to an extent when it came to relationships. She expected loyalty back, and apparently this ‘Rowan’ character couldn’t even maintain that.

Now that the elven princess was done with her anger and had put it out there, she started to lead the two men back to the kingdom from which the elves had come from. They passed through paths and through places she had practiced her archery and trapping skills, but also her whittling. She was silent as she showed off the skills she had gained over time, as hundreds of arrows could be seen on trees and targets and in knots on trees. Dummies that she had made of straw and wood and moss sat dangling in the breeze as they passed through. There were carvings of centaurs, looking similar to Cyril hanging up on branches as they passed through, along with feathers and horns and antlers and skins and furs from her hunts, showing her founded skills of being able to precisely cut the skin and fur off of a kill cleanly. She was aware of the disgusted looks that Rowan was making at the barbaric sport of hunting, or even the want, much less the need, of having to hunt for your meals.

As they traveled to her kingdom (at least he assumed that was where they were going) he noticed the arrows dotted around some decayed and broken as age had taken them. But the shots were precise and pinpoint, he could tell she had been practicing and had gotten good. What was even more impressive was the fact that she was quiet and not bothering to point out her abilities but rather let the proof speak for itself. He had grown tired of all those suitors prostrating their achievements and abilities as they tried to win him over. Though the carvings were most intriguing as they seemed to be markings she had made to denote where his herd was. Had she been keeping close to him all these years? Even as a hunter it seems that Faenoina's innate abilities as an artisan still existed despite her will to be a hunter. But he continued to look around, taking in the different skins. Rabbits, foxes, moose, deer, bear, hawk feathers, owl feathers, robin feathers. He swore he even saw a butterfly, nailed onto a tree with an arrow in it, its wings on display.

She seemed to have the trails memorized in her mind, as the trio broke from the brush. She paused. “Rowan, you can go ahead to the castle and make my father aware of our coming and my intention to break my engagement with you,” she said simply. The elven man stared at her with anger in his eyes in the now soon to be setting sun. He scoffed, and turned his horse, being ruffer with his horse than need be, as he made his way into the gates that had opened for them. His beautiful hair whipping behind him as he stared ahead, trying to mask how angry he actually was.

When they were alone, she looked at Cyril with the same curious eyes as before, putting her bow on her back. “Would you take me as your mate? Or take me as your betrothed.” She stood quietly with a somewhat bated breath. Faenoina needed him to agree, or else this could not go through, and her fate would be assigned for her, and she would have to be married to a man-whore who found earthly pleasures more appealing than allowing himself to explore who he was internally. The centaur had remained silent the whole way there, so she was a bit nervous in all honesty to herself. He was just watching her with his dark and scrutinizing eyes.

Cyril had remained silent the whole journey simply following her lead as she guided them easily through the forest and brush. Only once they were alone did he make noise and even then, it was nothing more than a scoff. "You definitely have greatly improved your hunting abilities. Far have you come from the fledgling hanging upside down from her own trap." He says with a hard tone and not a frown, but not a smile, almost like he couldn’t decide what facial expression he wanted to make. He then opened his mouth and continued before she could even respond to his praise, his next words were like a backhand to her ego.

"And you even come proclaiming to want to be my mate? Do you even know what that entails in my world? The duties a mate should fulfill?" He questions her to see just how serious she is about wanting to be his. How much knowledge did she have regarding centaur society? Even though his words and tone were harsh his horse tail betrayed that he was rather intrigued by all of this, perhaps even happy to find himself here. He questioned her about his own society but honestly cared little for her own as their union in his mind was unlikely at best. He was expecting her to become discarded or not wish to continue, after all, they were completely different races, and they may even be incompatible.

The princess only turned her horse so she may look at him better, her eyes becoming hard as she stared at him. Part of this was out of necessity, the other part, deep down in her stomach, craved to have him as hers. As much as she left an impression on him, he made an impression on her, and she would admit to no one that her cunt squeezed around her fingers when she thought of him in the darkness and silence of the night. When her thoughts were able to wander as she fantasized, only to feel shame afterwards, that she was glorifying a stranger in her mind, but the more carnal part of her didn’t care. She looked at him with her own hard green eyes, her face emotionless as she answered him.

“Do I know? No. Do I care? Not really. I will do what I am required to do for you if you wish. Whether that is pleasing you or carrying your children. But I do not want to marry that…. creature,” she said with a fiery tone about her betrothed. “He betrayed me and I will not forgive it. Even if it is a farce you wish to put up. My father will approve. You are a strong hunter and have your wits about you. Since elves do not naturally die, I have no need to take the throne. My status would only elevate your own in our world. I will learn your culture if you ask me to. And if I must, I will make you mine and do all I have to to prove to my father that you are my betrothed.”

She sighed, and for a moment, she debated. She pulled out a talisman. It was made of wood, and looked like a centaur, though it was not painted, it seemed to have runes burnt into it in gold and black. It looked plain and simple, but she held it around her belt, as it swayed on her hip as she sat upon her horse. “I had it enchanted so that I may either become a centaur female, or if you wish, so that you may temporarily become like an elf. I do not care if you want me or not. I will continue to hunt, and even expand your lands. You have haunted my mind since we first met, while I swung upside down in my own trap. I would be honored to call you my betrothed, despite how…. full of yourself you are. There is one thing I cannot deny, your knowledge and skill as a hunter.”

Pleasing him? Carrying his children? This elven princess was offering far more than he expected. Originally, he went with her just to spite her father as she appeared to have become a rather superb huntress despite her father's desires that she create art. But now that she laid out for him how strong her desire was for him and to be his mate, he couldn't help but be a bit moved. "I see you have hardened herself into a true hunter willing to do what you must in order to hunt your prey." He says praising her grown attitude, his tail whipping excitedly behind him. His head tilted slightly to look at her in a very realistic sense, a much better light. But his mood was soured as before he can continue Faenoina shows him the amulet which causes his upbeat mood to dissipate slightly once she explains its use. He clenched his fists a bit at the insult the amulet represented to the both of them, but mainly him.

"So, you wish to either defile me by having me turn into a weak elf?" He growled, seeming to have completely missed the first part of that in his anger. His brow furrowed and his head tilted forward, and his brow creased at her blatant attitude towards having such a truly revolting item. However, the other use for the amulet soon bore into his mind and he stopped fists unclenching as surprise and shock graced his hard features as he finally started to realize what she was saying to him. "You would give up your appearance to carry my foals? You truly desire to be my mate that much," he asks in a slightly awed and humbled tone, as the dedication and offer touches him far deeper than any of his own kind. She did not want him for how he could elevate her position, no she just truly wanted him. At least, that is what the conclusion he had come to base on the claims she had just declared to him about learning his ways and changing her form for him.

Instead of answering Faenoina circled her large horse and led them through the imposing stone carved gates. They were as tall as the walls that currently loomed over them with carvings of an elf that looked neither male nor female could be seen carved into both sides. They wore a robe that looked like it was either made from a sunrise or set blended beautifully. Its hands were held up to its chest, near the middle where a large circle was being held, and within it, it looked like a star dotted sky. They had long flowing hair that seemed to fade into the background as it spread out, and depictions of the world around them were surrounded by trees reaching taller than the figure to the top of the gate. Each tree had green foliage that seemed to be either jade or glittering or granite. The figure had a peaceful look on their features as the gates opened, splitting the creature and orb perfectly down the middle.

They were now allowed to enter the kingdom from which the elven princess who had declared a centaur as her betrothed hails from.

[monstersdownthepath]

Scourge Spotlight: Ephilates

CR 16

Lawful Evil Huge Outsider

Adventure Path: Council of Thieves: The Twice-Damned Prince, pg. 86~87

These hideous butcher-beasts are actually something of an unfortunate remnant from the time between Bestiary 1 and 3 where the entirety of the Kyton species--which would eventually become the Velstrac--consisted of exactly one creature: the Evangelist, referred to simply as “the Kyton.” When TDP came out, it would be another year and a half before the velstrac were anything other than the torture-happy sexy blue men and women who lived in the Plane of Shadow but frequently worked for Hell. It’s especially horrifically dated because the Ephilates were stated to rule the Kyton (aka Evangelist) society, which obviously is no longer true.

The Ephilates looks so horrifyingly unlike any other velstrac specifically because it was presented as something of an evolved version of the Evangelist, the result of an Evangelist becoming so saturated with violent, corruptive evil (specifically by way of damning 999 souls, one way or another) that their bodies simply cannot contain it and they require a special ritual to be performed on them in order to give them a shape capable of handling it. They are twisted and mutated by this ritual into something so utterly unlike any other velstrac that I hesitate to even call these creatures canon anymore, but for the sake of completion and my love of obscure beasties, I must. I will do my best to blend their existing lore into the current velstrac lore as it’s known, which is admittedly fairly simple, as the Ephilates are already the tireless hunters and retrievers of the damned.

Sometimes, velstrac need victims, but their usual tactics just aren’t cutting it. When subtlety and coercion do not work, when temptation and falsehoods fail, there is always brute force. The Ephilates are that brute force, the battering rams that smash in castle walls to drag victims screaming into the shadows, to rip open homes and kidnap victims for their masters’ experiments, and to retrieve the runaways and escapees, tracking their quarry with their 1/day Discern Location. They are the velstrac equivalent of dragons, being mountains of HP and AC with a flurry of natural attacks: a bite (2d6+8), two claws (1d8+8), a swat with its tail (1d8+4), and finally two whipping chains (2d8+8). They also have the Evangelist’s Dancing Chains, able to animate any chains within 30ft of them to let them make up to four chain attacks each round... but their chains are significantly more dangerous than their lesser kin’s, because whether it’s the two chain attacks they have normally, or any of the four attacks from their Dancing Chains, being hit by two consecutive chains in one round Rends the victim for 2d8+12 additional damage.

They also, like dragons, project a Frightful Presence, and even have a Breath Weapon that’s an important part of their kit! This 50ft cone of hooked chains fires out of their many maws, thankfully only targeting up to six creatures within the area instead of the whole thing. It’s not much mercy to anyone who fails the DC 27 Reflex save, as such victims take 2d8+8 damage and get grabbed by the chains. If that damage (and the damage from their natural attacks) seems low, there’s a reason for it: The Ephilates wants its victims alive. Any creature that fails to escape the chain before the velstrac’s next turn is pulled 10ft closer to it, and any creature that begins its turn grappled and adjacent to it can be subjected to its Entrapping Chains, pinned directly to the horror’s bulk. Once it has its subjects in tow--either because they’re knocked out and in its grip, or bound to its surface by Entrapping Chains--the Ephilates can use its 3/day Shadow Walk to abscond with its quarry, which will likely never be seen sane again.

Think you can stop it from skittering away? Not when it has Deeper Darkness at 3/day to make its own escape route, you can’t. Think you can get away from it? Not when it has Dimensional Anchor at-will, you can’t. It also does a wonderful job at shutting down spellcasters, able to use Silence 3/day; with no need to speak and no powers that rely on sound, it can slap the bubble on itself and either shamble forward or drag enemies closer. There is also the startling surprise of it having Silence applied already and using it in tandem with its +15 Stealth modifier to get the drop on the party, something a giant jangling dragon-shaped beast would never otherwise be able to do.

You can read more about them here.

[adamworu]

The Subtle Horror of Evangelion

What keeps us all hooked to Eva time and time again? You get through your initial, confused watch of either Evangelion endgame, probably sometime in your adolescence wondering what the hell it is you just watched. The original source material is suffused with unsettling imagery, and sometimes too-close-for-comfort shorts. It’s so much to process that one watch is never enough. The imagery isn’t enough, however, because the mid-to-late-90s series comes with things you’ll pick up the more you focus on certain characters’ struggles or the interesting world-building. They arise little by little with every re-watch, adding onto what interested you in Eva to begin with.

There’s always that little voice asking you “What it is that really draws me here?”

Oh. The horrors.

The tragedy of it all.  

These things never leave you the second you bear witness to them, whether you become aware of them or not. You’re disturbed over it, a tad worried, no doubt, but you’re strangely hooked.

Horror works better on limitation, it’s why found footage capturing pale, ghastly, monstrosities of the deep wood will always stand as exponentially terrifying. While most all of us have taken cracks at Eva’s budget at some point, that’s what really drives these terrors home. Its low budget nature made it work.

Evangelion has commentary which forces a viewer to reflect. Most no one enjoys that. It’s the fear, however, that has its audience come back. Evangelion’s reflection alone isn’t what gives Eva it’s charm decades after its run. It’s the little things, most everyone misses, the anxieties, the terrors, all of it. Most of those things, fly over a lot of fans’ heads.

Buckle up, there’s a lot to go through…. (warning for mentions of abuse, body horror, means of suicide, nudity, blood, and gore)

Table of Contents

I. Icebergs for Dummies

Tier 1: The Tip of the Iceberg

II. The Hedgehog’s Dilemma

III. The AT-Field as a Universal Metaphor

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

V. Shinji is the Audience Surrogate

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

Tier 2: Just Below the Tip

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

VIII. Naoko + Casper

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

Tier 3: The Body of The Iceberg

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Scene

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

XIII. Kaworu + Adam’s True Power

Tier 4: Pre-Abyss

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

XVI. Unit 01+ MPE Gorging Scenes

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arka

Tier 5: The Abyss

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

XIX. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

XX. The Ultimate Paradox

XXI. Conclusion

I. Icebergs for Dummies

For those unaware, the iceberg image illustrates that things are much deeper than they appear, just like an actual iceberg. You’ve probably seen this selfsame iceberg--- separated by tiers--- a few times looking through late night internet rabbit holes (Putting it out in the open: I’m personally guilty of this!), fictional or non. It helps you understand why you’re so enticed to certain material, that you’d revisit them. The highest parts of the iceberg are the things in the material most everyone knows, the surface level stuff. The lower you go, however, the lesser known the parts of the material are. These are the things the person are aware of.

Eva has some iceberg illustrations if you look around, albeit they don’t go through the more saddening, sometimes graphic factors of Eva, only theories navigating through Eva’s universe. Evangelion is so deceptively packed with blink-and-you’ll-miss-it subtleties that if an iceberg were centered on that, the diagram would be packed. And I’m being generous as I write this.

A few ground rules, before we begin: The iceberg will deal with the more obscure and dark material as the tiers get higher rather than it only being relegated to obscure bits. The lower the tier, the higher the iceberg and the more subtler the anxieties which graduate into horrors the deeper you go.

Yes, Evangelion is occasionally horrifying. No, Evangelion is not lovecraftian. I think people use the term lovecraftian way too freely. It’s not enough to see something with (sometimes too many) limbs twisted in ungodly angles. Or legs where legs shouldn’t be. The same applies for creatures assuming forms we don’t entirely comprehend. Eva has never delved into the angels being incomprehensibly terrifying specifically because they come from a cosmic expanse.

Some of these actual horrors, big and small,  hit you after adolescence, something that makes you feel deeply for the characters’ dilemmas. It’s a feeling that grows and sometimes aches, rather than fades over time for many of us.

Tier 1: The Tip of the Iceberg

II. Hedgehog’s Dilemma

III. The AT Field as a Universal Metaphor

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

V. Shinji As the Audience Surrogate

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

II. Hedgehog’s Dilemma

Evangelion has its hand in so many psychological and philosophical cookie jars, from Freud, to Maslow, Johari, as well as Dostoevsky. The very tip of the Subtle Horrors of Evangelion Iceberg is something viewers are introduced to in the fourth episode of the series. It is one of the many psychological concepts dotted throughout the original show. Out of all those psychological concepts, this is the most explicit and most recurring.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma describes the conundrum of two hedgehogs. The closer two hedgehogs become to one another, the more they harm each other with their spines. If you want to properly live, you need the closeness and intimacy of others. By allowing yourself to be close, however, you end up at great risk of being hurt. It’s the very reason what drives those who live to become guarded. Being perpetually apprehensive or building up walls isn’t a remedy for pains, however. The Hedgehog’s Dilemma isn’t just about why people become guarded after relationships ended on bad notes. It’s about the overall inevitability of pain.

Life is a continual push-pull of relationships, because we’re all creatures of comfort. We guard ourselves to varying degrees and sometimes even tell ourselves we won’t get close again, but personal comfort is one of our most ultimate drives.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma not only describes that harm happens to us anyway, but illustrates that because comfort is universal we seek companionship regardless.

III. The AT-Field as a Universal Metaphor

The AT-Field is the most crucial rabbit hole in understanding the largest meta-narrative of Evangelion.

If Hedgehog’s Dilemma explains the what and the why people become more or less guarded, then AT-Fields explain the how. People build up walls around themselves all the time. You walk away from someone because they crack a smile at you... and it seems off.

Because you feel an anxious pang.

That’s an AT Field.

AT-Fields, or Absolute Terror Fields bear a few metaphors, one of which being boundaries. You see it as Shinji’s fear of becoming intimate, knowing the future implications or Asuka’s masculine protest (putting up a front). We can see an excellent example of the AT Field used by Asuka, her “Wall of Jericho” in episode 9.

You also see it manifested through the angels, the strange creatures in Eva who supposedly desire to merge with Adam, their mother. Seeing this in the angels makes you realize that the AT Field is actually a metaphor for boundaries which implicates us all. In episode 22, Arael, 15th angel, seeks to understand Asuka. The angel uses its AT-Field (a beam of light) no, its boundary, to breach Asuka’s boundaries. 

AT-Fields can be used to not only build up personal walls but to breach them as well. The irony of Arael’s action is that Arael’s AT-Field being erected while it floats just over Earth’s gravitational field makes it immensely similar to the Second Child; they’re both guarded.

The AT-Field is a funny sort of thing because it also sometimes explains how two people who are so alike can be guarded from one another. Sometimes you gain contempt for someone because they’re too much like your least favorable traits. You see this with Shinji and Asuka, both children without their mother desiring validation. Shinji calls Asuka a child midway into episode 9 and Asuka isn’t shy on voicing ideas of Shinji as dense or immature. They’re throwing stones in glass houses.

AT Fields are used to get the user out of dangers both physical and perceived. Sachiel, 3rd angel in the original series’ pilot episode, uses its AT-Field, in the form of flotation, to get itself from enemy fire. It never shows this until it is attacked first.

AT Fields are also responsible for one’s identity and physicality in Eva. Without the AT Field you don’t really exist. When Rei assumes the form of the person the character being cast into Instrumentality loved most in End of Evangelion, she’s causing the character to give up their AT Field. With that gone, they lose their physicality, turning into LCL (given the lovely term ‘tanged’ by fans). The ‘tanged’ individual suffers metaphorical death. Evangelion argues that in order for one to exist, others must perceive you and you must perceive you, a point best illustrated in episode 16. Since everyone is converted to LCL, no one really ‘exists.’ Rei describes this unnerving state as the inability of differentiating who you are and others, since everyone lacks a physical state without AT-Fields. Metaphorical death can be argued as worse than physical, since we all exist to make an impression of some sort. It’s what ties all the Eva cast together and the cause of their dilemmas. Validation. You can be living, yet very much forgotten or simply unknown.

There is living and there is “living.”

You can’t “die” unless someone knows you. You were never there. AT Fields are the thing that make us live, but as a drawback, prevents us from understanding each other fully. Kaworu states in episode 24 that AT Fields are the wall of the mind and the heart of the soul, an unapproachable piece of sanctuary. When all else is taken from us, all we have left is our place of respite.

I’d also like to pitch the saddening reality that the AT-Fields are what prevent us from understanding angels as a whole, our genetic siblings as scared of this world as we are. The psychological angels want to understand us, that much is true. The angels, however, use forms of communication at the expense of our boundaries. Because people greatly value boundaries it makes it hard for us to comprehend angels. The creatures are hardly malicious when you realize they wonder why we all do things that actually hurt us, as well as the fact that they do understand our minds. But, because they breach our boundaries, we become even more wary of the (mostly) unknown. Angels may be us, but the strange forms they take are something we aren’t familiar with. The feeling is mutual with angels, wondering why there are many of us, our forms and outward appearances so identical. It’s a truth as old as time that we all fear the unknown.

The anxiety of an AT Field means comprehending that there’s very little chance to 100% get others. Because we’re all wary in some degree, because we’re set in an idea or perception of someone, even if the someone in the past no longer applies. It’s not healthy for you to continue dwelling on relationships not meant to be, keeping yourself up at night asking why, because both of you have closed off each other for good. There’s always that chance the other can come back and if they do seek to understand despite past hardships, that’s good. If they don’t, all you can do is move on and accept it.

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

Kensuke is one of Shinji’s classmates, a supporting player in the series. He’s close with Toji Suzuhara, a boy who takes his anger on Shinji, after finding out that his sister has been injured during Shinji’s fight with 3rd angel Sachiel. As Suzuhara beats him down, Kensuke downplays the incident. Kensuke’s and Toji’s relationship is particularly interesting because the latter is affected to some degree by war (the war by humanity to prevent our destruction by angels). Kensuke glorifies the sentient, implicitly eldritch, multi-armored war-machines.

Kensuke can be best described as the ‘wow, cool robots’ drawing you’ve probably seen floating around. This is in relation to Gundam’s war commentary, but replace Gundam with Eva. Kensuke is enamored with the Evangelions and totally, willfully ignorant to the war horrors. Adolescents are forced to be the salvation of humanity, feeling every bit of damage to their own bodies whenever the Evangelion takes any hurt. Even after the war for humanity is long over, the pilots will be afflicted with traumas that will always hang over them.

Kensuke’s glorification is also what draws him to be Shinji’s friend. He uses Shinji’s status as a way of becoming a pilot himself by meeting up with Misato, putting himself at the cockpit of a strange creature magnificent machine.

When Toji becomes hospitalized after his battle in a hijacked Unit-03 vs. A Dummy System-controlled Unit-01, Kensuke expresses discontent at not being a pilot. He’s annoyed because “everyone” but him is a pilot.

Thing is, Kensuke isn’t heartless, just ignorant. Idealism is one of the uglier things that runs thick in the heart of Evangelion. His is one of many cases of unhealthy idealism in Eva, another example of making it difficult for those living to understand one another.

V. Shinji as the Audience Surrogate

Shinji as the audience surrogate isn’t always touched up on, but is sort of understood subconsciously by a lot of the viewers. Shinji’s character is specific, yet so generalized that him being a surrogate for the audience just… works. Don’t believe me? Shinji gets two psychological exploration-based episodes whereas Asuka and Rei each have one. Episodes 16 and 24 are both psychological angel episodes, albeit the latter is more in-series subversive. The 24th episode doesn’t involve a breach of subconscious boundary, but the pilot (Shinji) is in the hot-seat, being made aware of their issues. Leliel, 12th angel, contacts Shinji in the former of these. Both characters talk to one another, shown as a series of horizontal lines and vertical lines, sometimes intersecting. These lines are a strong reference to the Johari Window, a tool in psychology which helps someone become more aware of themselves. The Window’s quadrants are as follows

1. the part known to the self

2. the part known to others

3. the part known to the self and others

4. the part known to no one

Leliel also states that the self only exists of one perceives themselves as well as others. The angel also states that Shinji could better his reality, to which Shinji absolves himself of responsibility by arguing the horrible state of his reality. It’s a subtle pushing to Shinji and by extension the viewer into free will. Kaworu builds up on these concepts with Eva’s in-universe concept for boundaries. Free Will versus Determinism is brought up here, with the idea that AT-Fields are brought up because the living (again, not people – emotional complexities aren’t only human) will them into existence. By exercising free will, it means enduring pain, one of Shinji’s, and again the audience’s greatest fears. Any relationship has pains and conflicts. This is all a buildup of free will, determinism, self-awareness, and the Hedgehog’s Dilemma. Understanding all of these means swallowing the “pain is inevitable” pill. The problem with much of us is that we like the idea of relationships rather than being in one. We want to feel validated but without the conflict, even if the conflict can be solved. We’re all Shinji because we’re all aware to life’s hellish catch-22s, so we run. There’s times in our lives where we run as far as possible from these woes, these truths, but there’s pain in running too. It’s why escapism seems like such a viable action for some of us.

Pain is inevitable, but pain can be mitigated.

More damning evidence to Shinji being a viewer stand-in lies in either endgame of Evangelion (pun intended). In EoE, after the Komm Susser Tod sequence of everyone on Earth being tanged, we’re treated to a shot of EoE’s live audience.

We hear Shinji’s voice about his reality while he talks to Rei toward EoE’s end. There are shots of the city, of people going about their daily lives cementing that this is about us. End of Evangelion shows us a less favorable side of Shinji, a departure from the lauded end series “Congratulations” scene, in which he does understand free will rather than perpetually dwell on negatives. Shinji reacts unfavorably toward Asuka in EoE after his mother’s speech to the audience that ‘anywhere can be paradise’ and Shinji stating he doesn’t know where his happiness resides. Shinji (We) still has a ways to go if he wants to be a better person.

It’s probably why many of us are either inclined to champion Shinji or harangue him, and either reaction is fair. Many of us are aware of audience surrogates, but never to this extent. Shinji isn’t his best person, but he can be. Being his best means self-reflection. Droves of people who first were exposed to Evangelion were teens, and again many of Shinji’s woes are specific yet so generalized, hence our feelings of defense and possibly disgust.

No one likes scathing, yet accurate call-outs on their person, but they’re paramount for us to understand ourselves and others.

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

One of the worst things recurring in all of original Evangelion is a bevvy of abuses.

Abuse comes in many shapes and forms and it’s many characters’ realities. Abuse happens not because the universe ‘wills it’ (determinism aka, ‘that’s just how people are’). Abuse, be it conscious emotional absence, actual neglect, among other ungodly acts fly though the cast.

Abuse is cyclical and a lot of those doing it often get away with murder because they have power.

Much of Eva is comprised of children being forced to sort through adults’ emotional baggage. Those children become adults and the cycle continues.

We all know a Gendo. Or even perhaps a Misato. Hell, even a Ritsuko.

Anno states that Gendo’s character is of a societal meta-text, which explains many viewers’ ire in relation to the character.  He’s responsible for many of the seedy goings-on in Evangelion be it the financial (see: Jet Alone’s orchestrated out-of-control nature to give NERV more funding) or abuses (see: Rei, Shinji, Ritsuko, and, Naoko). It’s for this reason why Gendo’s actions are a sore spot for a lot of fans.

Anno: I’m not sure that it’s a real father [that Gendo represents]. Well, not a father in the sense of a parent with a blood relation to his child, but more, I think, [in the sense of being] a representative of society or the system. That’s why he has that expression.

Takekuma: So, he’s kind of amorphous.

Anno: The angels are the same. I made them appear amorphous in that way because, for me, society is unclear, the enemy is unclear.

Takekuma: Gendo is [a representation of] the boundries or the pressure of society itself.

Anno: That might be it. Perhaps Gendo is [a representation of] society itself.

http://wiki.evageeks.org/Statements_by_Evangelion_Staff

After many re-watches of certain Eva episodes, it just hit me, as I’m writing this why I’m sometimes apprehensive on an adult-exclusive lens of the show. This happens a lot in adolescence and our struggles are made trivial because of the mishandled baggage. As children, you’re meant to be subservient to parental whims. You have this sort of obligation to solve their problems. Give them closure. It doesn’t even need to be parental baggage, but just from adults in general. You see the way the adults act not just with the children but with each other. You see the way Gendo justifies neglecting Shinji, objectifying Naoko and Ritsuko or Naoko’s emotional absences as a mother to her daughter (also manifested through the MAGI). It’s these immature excuses as to why they can’t extend empathy to those around them.

It’s always excuses.

Eva’s original series has always been a show about children.

Tier 2: Just Below the Tip

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

VIII. Naoko + Casper

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

The Elevator Scene is a sequence that sometimes gets glossed over due to Evangelion’s fleeting budget.  It took me years to realize the true gravity of the awkward silence of both the 22nd episode and its Director’s Cut version. The Director’s Cut version has Asuka abruptly jerking in the silence,  but that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment speaks volumes. Understanding the scene means understanding why Asuka quietly stews in her anger. Understanding why Asuka stews means understanding Asuka from her debut to her emotional breakdown.

Asuka’s appearance in the 8th episode, Asuka Strikes!, is marked by a bold persona that carries on until the end. She isn’t shy on imparting her prowess to Shinji, stating that Units 00 as well as 01 were the prototype and the test type, respectively. Her Evangelion, Unit-02 is the finished product. She even states that she graduated from university. Despite these impressive feats so early in adolescence, the only time in which they’re noted is when Asuka talks of them. Misato takes in both Shinji and Asuka, but only ever “dotes” on Shinji. Gendo pays attention to Shinji because he pilots Unit-01, and 01 contains the soul of his late wife. Rei is the clone of Gendo’s late wife, hence Gendo’s attention and overall creepy, selfish obsession with her. Asuka and Shinji’s relationship, with Misato as their caretaker strongly mimics a Golden Child and the Second Fiddle. The only difference is, Shinji gains more attention due to Gendo’s and Misato’s respective baggage. Again, Eva is a series where children are forced to handle the baggage (with no break in the cycle) and when the child doesn’t have anything the adult particularly can clue in on, they become neglected.

That’s Asuka’s dilemma.

It’s why Asuka forces herself to grow up.

It’s why Asuka is driven to be competitive to Shinji and Rei, later growing contemptible at both.

Asuka suffers a few curses, one of which being the youngest, the inevitability of being consciously sidelined dawns on her, leading to her selfsame breakdown toward series’ end. She aligns youth with trivialization, so naturally, she’d front with the opposite. She never gets help in relation to her period. Misato and Ritsuko realize something is up with Asuka but they never really offer her the support.

There’s also the flashback to her trauma in episode 22’s beginning. She’s replaced by her mother post-Contact Experiment (which led to a deterioration of her mental health) via a doll that looks like her, red hair in pigtails. It’s the leading factor to her feigned boldness, her ego. The way in which she is marginalized in the series brings it all back.

Rei breaks the silence with a few words of compassion and all Asuka can do is express disbelief. She mistakes compassion for contempt.

For pity.

The idea that anyone would extend kindness, especially now of all times, is unbelievable.

Asuka also experiences a dilemma here, a dilemma those like her face. She already knows what it means to be vulnerable and deeply hurt, but she needs to make herself vulnerable because now, more than ever, she needs the support. Being vulnerable will cause past traumas to flood back in full force, but by stewing she deprives herself of any support. Rei offers that support, but a few words of support in a wave of trivialization can’t help but feel a bit too strange.

Asuka’s greatest anxiety is realized in the twenty second episode. It’s of being and staying second fiddle, that she’s always been set up to fail. Even 2 episodes after the fact,  in which she actually starves herself does she realize once more how she’s permanently ‘below’ others.

Asuka’s curse finds itself in real life, and it’s for that reason why I believe some find themselves resonating with her. Asuka’s gradual descent into bitterness is something I find myself waking up some nights thinking about after 7 years going through Eva; hers is a cautionary tale on being emotionally distant to cries of a damaged youth. Casually imparted knowledge of past achievements, and the competitive attitude mixed with embitterment, some of which from a genuine place but also a product of neglect. We were forced to play second fiddle, we forced ourselves to grow up to feel more legitimate, forced to carry an ire that stews because it seems no one listens.

VIII. Naoko+Casper

The late Naoko Akagi is a woman of multitudes. Those multitudes are compartmentalized into the 3 MAGI. They are Balthasar, Melchior, and Casper.

Casper shows itself to be the most prominent aspect of Naoko’s personality, her as a woman. Ritsuko states that, after the defeat of Iruel, 11th angel, that Casper is the part of her mother which remained that way to the end.

Balthasar and Melchior have been bested, be it by rival MAGI, or Iruel’s assault. This calls back to the fact that Naoko’s other facets aren’t anywhere near as prominent. Naoko has cited her own emotional negligence, of only showing emotions should it ever benefit her.

Casper on 3 occasions fights tooth and nail, Iruel’s assault, an attack by multiple MAGI in End of Evangelion or the defiance of Ritsuko activating the self-destruct sequence. Ritsuko does this to seek vengeance against Gendo for coming to the immense realization that he never genuinely cared for her. Gendo has always used Ritsuko for her body. This would destroy NERV, meaning killing herself and Gendo.

Then you realize why Casper overrides the sequence.

Casper’s stubborn behavior wasn’t actually to defend NERV but to protect Gendo. Casper’s defiance aka Naoko’s emotional absence toward her daughter allowed Gendo to kill a bewildered, rightfully angered Ritsuko.

The saddest part of Casper’s, no, Naoko’s choice is that Naoko got away with murder. Evangelion is a story about children dealing with the selfishness of adults and the adults never receiving justice for their wrongdoings. The relationship between Ritsuko and Naoko is an excellent example that this doesn’t just implicate the young pilots. Ritsuko dies in End of Evangelion with the truth that her mother, as a woman, in the end chose the man who manipulated both of them.

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

Some spend their whole lives trying to make a mark. Others can’t help but be known.

People get smart sometimes to get themselves out of a current situation. Kaworu and Rei’s existences are such that they’re deadlocked from living. Their existences are the product of an experiment, to be later heavily watched and raised as the Last Messenger. The latter is the result of Gendo’s obsession with his late wife.

Kaworu and Rei’s existential crises are opposite from the rest of the cast; while others do their damndest to become known, they cannot be unknown. Rei’s character centering more around her identity than other characters is also initially and sneakily alluded in the opening.

The Johari Window is a tool encouraging self-awareness in the person, alluded to twice in the show, with the second time being in the sixteenth episode. Both usages of that illustration, for Rei, and Shinji drive home crucial aspects of the meta-text.

This would also tie Rei to Shinji in End of Evangelion forcing Shinji to reflect on his own awareness and will. Rei is an astute, young girl whose arc is about her personal relationship with identity, something she is all too familiar with due to her objectified nature. Rei’s arc is even more so entrenched in identity than other characters that she is one of the characters imparting personal and universal realities.

Ayanami Rei’s existence from start to finish is inundated with the issues of others, causing her to internalize being always expendable. In Rei’s Poem in episode 14, it becomes clear that she sees herself based on usage. She likens herself to a field of flowers, which slyly alludes to the Dummy System’s “parts” 9 episodes later, other Reis.

  Rei is seen as malleable vessel which houses thoughts rather than her own person and she can’t do anything about it. So she resigns to her reality. Even if she does tell off Gendo in End of Evangelion for his objectifying, she’s not even out of the woods. She never will be.

I used to think Rei’s “slap” to the face to the man with the (most) baggage was empowering. Then I learned about abuse during adolescence, how kids who lack a support system act while away from their abusers. Even saying an emphatic “fuck you” to your abusers isn’t enough to be a happy ending. Rei is a girl who lacks a support system and she suffers from it. Start to finish.

Kaworu’s crises are much trickier to pinpoint because there’s so little to work with. He doesn’t get an episode dealing with personal, subconscious explorations. Getting his character means first getting how Evangelion re-contextualizes what “Ode to Joy” symbolizes. It also means understanding the AT-Field and most people won’t pick that up on an initial foray. Or maybe even a second. Most people don’t pick up that the AT Field implicates anything living and physical or its metaphor for boundaries and identity. There’s the common misconception that Evangelion is a “human” show.

Kaworu marks off his appearance humming “Ode to Joy” while Shinji wonders who to turn to. It’s a song generally known for its jovial nature, but most importantly, Ode to Joy is:

known also as the “Choral” Symphony. Its finale is a musical setting of Friedrich von Schiller ’s “Ode to Joy,” a hymn to the unity and freedom of humanity.

http://www.dictionary.com/browse/ninth-symphony

The Choral Symphony assumes a more horrific context later on. Kaworu is the last messenger and what his action is would lead to the mass annihilation to lilin/human or angels. ‘Unity of man’ is changed in Eva’s context – it marks either unity of man or the death of man. It doesn’t matter who Kaworu allows unity to, because his hands would be stained with death anyway. Then you realize why Kaworu deploys his most powerful AT Field during his descent to Heaven’s Door.

This is his reality.

Kaworu’s status as the Angel of Free Will isn’t about him being the only complex angel, as a lot of people think. It’s about being the sole individual handing that freedom to others.

You realize his terrifying dilemma goes to the tune of being feared for his own existence as an angel (which he notes to Shinji) and not being able to properly live.

Sometimes you ”hurt” people by existing.

Sometimes people hate you for the simple act of existing.

Kaworu’s and Rei’s terror is the other end of existential horror, that you can’t help but forced to be known. Sometimes you have knowledge but aren’t allowed to do much with it.

Tier 3: The Body of The Iceberg

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Scene

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

XIII. Kaworu + Adam’s True Power

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

Episode 18 is where anxieties graduate into horrors both implied and visceral. Unease hangs over the episode, with the mystery of Unit-04’s disappearance and tests being done on Unit-03. Misato tells Shinji that because tests would be done, there’d be a pilot there. Misato uneasily withholds this info from Shinji and Kensuke breaks the silence with his recurring desire of being a pilot, still ignorant of the war horrors. There’s a subtlety that Shinji picks up on with Toji but not enough to put two and two together: that the big-eater himself isn’t feeling so hot.

The continual chirp of cicadas and birds nor the peel of the school bell are enough to break the unease of the viewer or of Toji. Toji goes from indirectly being affected by war vs angels to being chosen, drafted even, a child at the first line of defense for the apocalypse. We get a flashback of him beating down Shinji, before it cuts back to present day Toji. He will be in Shinji’s shoes.

Toji balls a fist, a recurring theme in Eva, to the tune of “What is your hand for?” Toji is finally  about to take things into his own hands.

Asuka takes a few cracks at Shinji to Hikari that he hasn’t quite gotten the memo, but when Shinji asks her even she’s halted in words.

Then the day comes.

Tests are being done and suddenly Unit-03 goes  rogue with Toji in her (note the Evangelions have the souls of the pilots’ mothers, save for Rei). Unit-03’s’s strange behavior is revealed to be the work of the 13th angel, Bardiel. Shinji’s ignorance is made worse by Misato’s absence (with Misato telling Ritsuko she’d tell Shinji the pilot’s info after the tests). Units 00 through 02 are sent out for the new threat and Shinji sees this new threat. Anxiety rises.

The song “Marking Time Waiting for Death” accentuates the anxiety. Unit-03’s silhouette eerily contrasts with the sun, her body slightly hunched and approaching slowly.

Fear washes over Shinji when he deduces that with an Evangelion inside, there must be a pilot.

Yet he still doesn’t know.

The other pilots are aware, and show reluctance to the revelation. A hijacked Unit-03 sets herself on Asuka, Rei, and even strangling Shinji. Shinji allows the angel-hijacked-being to strangle him, because killing another human being is simply horrific.

 Eva has its hand in the war morals cookie jar here because Shinji stands at a conundrum, to other let this creature take his life or to murder flesh and blood. This dilemma goes double-time in war. Gendo asks why Shinji hasn’t dealt with the 13th yet, with a somewhat horrified Shinji pleading  about the pilot. Gendo commands for the unfinished Dummy System to override Shinji’s controls and then suddenly...silence….

The Dummy Controlled Unit-01 springs back and we’re treated to a close-up of Unit-03/Bardi3l being strangled. 

A nauseating crunch sounds and the unit goes limp. A controlled Unit-01 proceeds to raise hell on the incapacitated enemy, resulting in the unit’s blood and guts flowing through the streets. NERV’s personnel can’t do anything save for become fearful at the Dummy System’s capabilities. Terrible, visceral noises sound one by one as blows strike, as the unit’s severed limbs and blood splatters riddle the urban battlefield. Shinji hears every second, every squelch and splat.

Imagine the pain of 03’s pilot.

But the terrors don’t cease here. 

01 doesn’t stop at just raising hell on the incapacitated 03, and we’re treated to another close-up shot of 01 tightly holding onto 03’s entry plug, before crushing it.

Somewhere away, Misato receives news that Unit-03 has been dispatched as an angel. Shinji feels the weight of having actually killed someone, before Misato actually breaks the news that the pilot is not only alive but that the greatly injured pilot is his classmate.

It never really hit me until now how this scene holds another horrifying subtlety. Compare this to episode 3, where Toji’s first interaction with Shinji involved him punching him, the very scene playing at this episode’s beginning. The 18th episode ends now with ,Toji and Shinji are both joined in the same camp, of children emotionally and physically marred by war, not able to fully control their situations.

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Sequence

Shinji stands in a situation where he can no longer take the terrors aligned with the Evangelion. He’s gone from sustaining injuries great and small from combat with the eldritch angels, to indirectly harming a friend through it. He resigns from his position as a pilot, understandably running away even with the approach of the 14th angel.

After a talk with Kaji about how he can control his future and he only, Shinji once again puts himself at the forefront of further pains. He must once more thrust himself to the terrors that align with the war-machines whilst struggling with other traumas.

During his fight against Zeruel, his Evangelion dies out and it all floods back to him. Shinji once again finds himself at a position of no power, frantically pressing at his controls to no avail.

He can only hear blow after blow of the 14th’s onslaught. He and Unit-01 are at their most vulnerable.

Until Unit-01 springs back.

W hat follows is the famous Berserk sequence, a scene whose terror can be thanks to Evangelion’s low budget.

We see the Evangelion in all her terror and the sort of off-ness that carries in this scene.

Episode 19 has no problems on treating us to front-row tickets to terror.

Unit-01 snatches part of Zeruel’s appendage and adds it to her mass. A sickening squelch sounds and her new appendage contorts into place in an instant. 

She moves over to her incapacitated, angelic meal and doesn’t hesitate to chow down. The shots feel too personal yet nowhere near in the sense of the show’s meta-textual reflections. It’s almost like stumbling on a cryptid and when she shoots a look at the viewer, it feels as if she’s looking at us, like we’ve interrupted her dinner. Or perhaps she did finish the meal... and she’s in the mood for seconds? Perhaps even thirds?

The bizarre and eldritch nature of the Evangelions goes full force with this imagery. Episodes 2 and 16 laid the foundation of how off the Evangelion Unit-01 was with how she openly mutilates her targets. Or even the unsettling roar of Unit-01 that’s not entirely bestial. The sound is straddles a line between the blood-curdling bestial and the human. But here? Eva Unit-01’s position, from her hunched figure, to her more feral position as she feasts, feels far too organic...and far too human.

The Evas themselves aren’t human, but the souls housed within are. Eva’s souls are souls of the respective pilots’ mothers, an example of the mother and child symbolism omnipresent in Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Shinji’s mother is Yui and as we go through the series, we realize the s2 engine appliance was intentional. An s2 engine offers infinite stores of energy and this is needed for Instrumentality. With the s2 engine within her grasp and the fact that Evas don’t subsist on anything, this would make the consumption of 14th completely recreational.

It’s super tempting to frame this scene as containing some abomination that now stands unchained and indiscriminate in its targets, but it isn’t. It’s sort of understandable because Units 00 and 02 don’t come close to exhibiting this sort of behavior nor were they in this circumstance. Neither Unit-00 nor 02  have any desires in regard to Instrumentality. In the end, we should look to Yui and her own endgame, because Yui’s running the show here.

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

Ritsuko states the Dummy Plugs are machines which imitate pilot’s thinking. There’s a bit more than the possibility of this being 100% AI due to the apparatus Rei is in.

This very likely implies the respective person’s thought processes added with AI programmed in a way which best “describes” the pilot (basically how they are perceived). In episode 17, Rei is situated in this apparatus strongly resembling the central nervous system, the brain and the spinal cord.

{The central nervous system CNS is responsible for integrating sensory information and responding accordingly. It consists of two main components:

1. The spinal cord serves as a conduit for signals between the brain and the rest of the body. It also controls simple musculoskeletal reflexes without input from the brain.

2. The brain is responsible for integrating most sensory information and coordinating body function, both consciously and unconsciously. Complex functions such as thinking and feeling as well as regulation of homeostasis are attributable to different parts of the brain.

https://mcb.berkeley.edu/courses/mcb135e/central.html

Ritsuko imparts the unsettling revelation about Rei and by extension the Dummy Plant itself (after Misato coerced her into learning about Rei). The Reis are the core of the Dummy Plugs (and the System used to brutalize a hijacked Unit-03 and its trapped pilot). This scene adds more to the extent of Rei’s objectification, of her being replaced. It adds on to Rei III’s comment of being ‘the third.’

Rei isn’t savage by any means but the sheer brutality of Dummy System’d Unit-01 5 episodes prior may hint at her straightforward nature.

I’d like to pitch that Ritsuko’s approach to Rei’s Dummy Data was also the product of her subtle animosity toward Rei. When she refers to the Dummy Plug as a machine which mimics human thinking, she’s talking about Rei. She also refers to her similarly in episode 23 by referring to Rei as spare parts, as if Rei herself is some soulless machine whose parts can be switched out if need be. This could also call back to Rei’s poem, in which she calls herself a vessel which holds human thoughts.

Another question remains: how does Kaworu play into this?

The MPEs (the Mass Production Evangelion series) use Kaworu’s Dummy data, meaning that there are cloned Kaworus stored off somewhere, perhaps floating with soulless smiles the same as Rei has.

Treated as spare parts.

This also implies that Kaworu is more or less reduced to an object.

What’s more disturbing is the nature of the MPEs gratuitous method of ravaging and mutilating Unit-02 and by extension Asuka.

Kaworu hasn’t ever demonstrated any degree of malice, so this can’t really insinuate a ‘Kaworu is secretly evil’ narrative. But this can tie back to a recurring theme of humans fearing and despising angels. It’s because of this that the revelation of our genetically identical nature or the fact that they can comprehend our psychology is framed in-show as kind of shocking. It is because we’re so disturbed at the angels’ existence (or anything else we don’t comprehend) that we view them as inherently savage in nature. Kaworu’s quick-to-perceive personality most likely translated itself along with the AI. This would also rule in the somewhat strategic way in which the MPEs act against Asuka, exploiting her attack patterns through surprise attacks.

Some of Kaworu’s as well as Rei’s Dummy Data are the product of universal (Kaworu) and personal (Rei) contempt by people. Let that sink in.

XIII. Kaworu’s + Adam’s True Power

The bottom of the fridge horror portion of this iceberg is something that has subtly plagued me for years. We’ve only ever caught glimpses of Kaworu’s abilities in his debut episode. I picked up on it little by little with each re-watch of the episode, with every other time his abilities dawning on me. If I wasn’t focusing on how his character fits in the greater framework of Evangelion, I was cluing in on his abilities.

One of his abilities is being able to block out light, magnetism, and subatomic particles. Some of the forces which make up the universe. This witnessed by the viewer when he realizes the whole of humanity’s welfare hangs by a thread, due to the coexistence of angels and Adam.

Adam.

Adam’s soul lies within Kaworu. Adam. Who utilized an Anti-AT Field which caused Second Impact. An Anti-AT Field, which killed off much of the Katsuragi Crew in Antarctica.

This makes Kaworu the most powerful angel in the original Evangelion series.

Eva has shown that ownership of an angel’s soul (or partially, if you’re onboard the Rei I is in Unit-00 theory) allows the person to inherit the angel’s abilities through Rei. Rei blocks off Kaworu’s immensely powerful field with one of her own, canceling out both as a result. As we know, AT Fields for people are a figurative affair. People lack the physiology to exhibit a physical AT Field because they don’t have cores like angels do. Angels’ souls when possessed by humans have a sort of ability to circumvent parts of human physiology (if you’re looking for the whole package, you should eat angel’s flesh too). Rei also shows the ability to float, implied in episode 24 and shown explicitly in End of Evangelion.

But this raises a few questions about the last messenger is the ability to block out some of the forces of the universe Adam’s powers or Kaworu’s? Another ability that continues to plague me the more I think about it is Kaworu’s AT-Field usage on Heaven’s Door to bypass its lock.

We haven’t actually seen Adam’s other powers (if the angel has any) because the it’s anti-AT Field was halted via Lance of Longinus. Other than its ethereal appearance in flashbacks, we only see an incapacitated Adam in embryonic form. That’s it. We don’t know if Adam exhibits any other powers due to this impediment. If Adam does have more powers, this would add onto both the fridge horror factor of Adam and Kaworu.

Tier 4: Pre-Abyss

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

XVI. Unit 01+ MPE Gorging Scenes

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arka

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

There’s something that implicates the whole cast. Something that goes beyond the meaning of the AT-Field, and the all-too-known Hedgehog’s Dilemma.

Eva is filled to the very brim with psychological concepts, but there’s one thing which ties this all together. It goes much larger than the desire to become validated or cycles of abuse and unresolved issues to a newer generation.

Free Will Vs. Determinism ties the entire cast together and is disturbing in its own right. It not only ties the cast together but also contributes to Eva’s meta-narrative.

Episode 16’s sequence with Leliel, Shinji, and the Johari Window gives little breadcrumbs to this psychological dilemma.  Leliel teaches Shinji about his own identity as well as slowly ushering him to a sense of self-awareness. Leliel also attempts to usher Shinji out of filtering reality with only convenient parts. Shinji argues that he can’t really be held culpable for his actions, because the one and only reality is that reality is awful, bar none. Not his reality, but reality as a whole. This deterministic stance becomes ever more blatant 8 episodes later with the appearance of Nagisa Kaworu.

Kaworu’s designation is the angel of free will. The irony of this stands in the fact that Kaworu isn’t the only angel who can exhibit free will (with some of the angels before him taking the time to try comprehending people). Kaworu’s status comes from his identity as the last messenger, bringing about freedom for one species (humans/lilin or angels) at the expense of the other. Kaworu knows his reality well and in the end, seeks to better the reality of those around him. Eva doesn’t romanticize the prospect of free will, however, because Kaworu is so aware of his own person and how he can hurt those around him that it greatly bothers him.

The metatext doesn’t just position Shinji as being in the wrong, but also the audience. Remember the point I made before about Shinji being the audience substitute? It’s further hammered home from the series’ tail end and into End of Evangelion.

“That’s just the way things are.” is a common response to things in life we feel resigned on changing, because we don’t know how to change them. This quote is a parallel to Shinji’s “humans aren’t made to float!” in episode 16.

Shinji does know how to change much of his reality, but by doing so he’d be pushed into free will. Free Will is the solution and it means holding yourself accountable rather than believe that it’s everyone else with the problem. With the idea that you can change your reality, it offers you the opportunity to love yourself.

If you love yourself, then it becomes much easier to love others.

Eva’s free will and determinism metatext hammers home the extension of empathy.

Shinji/the viewer’s greatest problem is that because we don’t love ourselves it makes it difficult to extend the love to everyone else. Shinji’s love translates as idealism. Because of his unhealthy idealism, he is hindered from understanding people.

By ascribing your beliefs from determinism to free will, it opens your mind to an entire world of possibilities, but therein lies the terror. It is because of these possibilities that Shinji and by extension, the viewer, likely fears free will. Shinji finds ways make himself validated, but with free will, the argument could be made that it doesn’t matter. There’s the anxiety-crippling likelihood that none of it actually matters, because your existence doesn’t matter. If we’re going on this bent, acts of making an adequate impression on others are acts of personal denial. In the end, these are what they are, possibilities.

The greatest terror of it all is that we don’t know.

User power-chords makes an excellent point about the inherent darkness of an internal locus of control.

User power-chords posits the idea of existential absurdity for Shinji not as a certainty but a possibility. There’s always a likelihood that our desires to comprehend the world around us, to find ultimate understanding are in vain.

Cheesy as it sounds, people fear ambiguity because we seek a satisfying end. We don’t just seek answers. We want outside closure and inner peace, but we won’t always get it. It’s why we rationalize relationships that end on bad notes. Sometimes you worry about your falling-outs...and it hurts. You never got the answers your wanted so this pain carries, for months, sometimes even for years. Dwelling on the issue serves no purpose other than to keep that hurt with you. The best thing to do sometimes is to find your own closure, your own meaning.

No, Evangelion isn’t actually pro-nihilism, but it presents us with that likelihood. That’s what makes this aspect of the narrative so terrifying: The consideration that we find meaning in the meaningless.

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

The nature of injuries and having them in adds onto the innate horror --be it war or otherwise-- and themes of the Evangelion. The severity of the injury is based on how high the pilot’s sync ratio is. An average rate while sustaining damage will bring hurt to the actual pilot in the respective spot. Some examples:

Sachiel makes multiple headblows to Unit-01 and Shinji in episode 2, causing head trauma.

Ramiel’s, (5th angel), particle beam attack in episode 6, an attack so severe that Shinji needed medical care.

Unit-00 and Rei being infected by a Bardiel hijacked Unit-03 in episode 18. Toji’s condition in episode 18 stands as a large example of the innately disturbing nature of sustained injuries.

Toji’s condition becomes all the more nauseating when you see Evangelion parts and blood flow through Tokyo-3.

Toji could feel every last second of strangulation, body blow, and feel the unspeakable pain of his arm being severed.  Let that sink in.

Asuka receives the worst of these considering the nature of her sync rate being high. The higher the rate the more kept the damage is. The circumstances behind Asuka getting the worst of it goes back to the AT-Field. Asuka understood the meaning of the AT-Field, that the more you open yourself up to others, the more hurt you become. The realization dawns on Asuka as her mother from within the Evangelion shields her from the onslaught of JSSDF troops.

It’s then that Asuka finally comprehends what the Absolute Terror Field is. Despite her emotional needs being neglected, realizing she’s set up to fail, and going comatose she still goes on.

Asuka, despite everything, takes a chance and opens her heart knowing the double-edged nature of the AT Field. What happens next?

Asuka took a chance.

She opened her heart...

...and she got hurt all because she opened herself.

XVI. Unit 01+MPE Gorging Sequences

The brutality of both Unit-01 and the Mass Production Evas holds three layers: of visual horror, implied horror, and thematic horror. Unit-01, after taking Zeruel’s s2 engine into herself, proceeds to then brutalize the 14th angel by way of still gorging on it. The feeding was entirely recreational considering Evangelions don’t subsist on food to function. This was more about the sheer act of brutality for brutality’ sake.

The Mass Production Evas also fall under this category, the way in which they deal with Asuka after incapacitating her with a replicated Lance of Longinus is also sadistic and gratuitous. They also proceed to gorge on Asuka, her fate made worse through the simple fact that her sync rate is heightened.

The MPEs don’t even swiftly finish her off.  She is in a state of tremendous and unimaginable pain. They fly above her slowly, circling above her mangled Eva.

They are almost mocking her as she can do nothing, save for writhe. Asuka’s seething, repeated “I’ll kill you...I’ll kill you….” is then silenced by the MPEs spearing her down.

The brutality doesn’t end there, as we see much darker implications of the damage sustained toward the end of the first half of End of Evangelion.

Shinji bears witness to the implications after seeing the decimated remains of Unit-02 being carried off by some of the Mass Production Units. The sickening reality of it all dawns on him and he is once more exposed to the woes of war and the nightmarish aspect tied of the Evangelions.

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arqa

We’re ending the pre-abyssal end of the iceberg with Evangelion’s original proposal.

Eva’s proposal, a far cry to the show today, had a more sci-fi angle to it. Psychological concepts weren’t exactly pitched nor was it self-aware. The angels weren’t even referred to as the angels, but as the Apostolos. Instead of the 18 we were presented with in the original show and the movies, there were 28 Apostolos.

The Apostolos designs stand as testament to how far of a departure the proposal was to the final cut. They look far more menacing than the more amorphous, much softer defined, beady-eyed angels we’re used to. To top it all off, the Apostolos were the de facto villains of Evangelion’s prototype pitch. The Apostolos in the Proposal, toward the end, proceed their onslaught as a group rather than the series’ one by one. Toward the series’ end, the 12 strongest Apostolos begin their assault on North America, annihilating the continent in its entirety.

Only 12 of the creatures laid waste to a singular continent.

Episode 24: "Now, the Promised Time"

Rei breaks down. Her secrets are revealed. At last awakened, the twelve strongest Apostolos descend from the Moon. Both Eva Unit-06 and the American continent vanish completely. Humans acknowledge their helplessness in the face of the Apostolos' crushing power. The promised time, when people will return to nothing, approaches. A human drama in the depths of despair.

Episode 25: "Arqa, the Promised Land"

The laboratory holds the ancient ruins of Arqa, which have become key. In order to stop the twelve Apostolos, the United Nations' head members annul the Human Instrumentality Project and resolve to destroy the Apostolos. Shinji's father objects. Shinji and the others stay at the laboratory for Rei. A drama of people conflicting over incongruous objectives.

https://wiki.evageeks.org/Resources:Neon_Genesis_Evangelion_Proposal_(Translation)

The aforesaid creatures were so powerful in the original pitch that Human Instrumentality and the ancient ruins of Arqa would be the way of stopping the onslaught.

Tier 5: The Abyss

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

XIX. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

XX. The Ultimate Paradox

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

As the last and most explicit aspect of original Evangelion, it would only make sense that EoE specific content would take its place in Tier 5. End of Evangelion is a 90 + minute tour de force with disturbing imagery back-to-back. Split Second Misato Death refers to one of the most unsettling images sprinkled all throughout the movie. Here are a few of the many examples of EoE’s building up on Evangelion’s ugliest parts.

Everyone cites the infamous hospital scene not even 5 minutes into the film as the first proof, but user power-chords has pointed out, Shinji has actually attempted suicide (refer to the ‘Free Will v. Determinism’ part of the iceberg.)

After Misato is mortally wounded and sends Shinji off in an elevator not long after, the JSSDF blow up that part of NERV. A few people have pointed out the most disturbing facet of this scene: through freeze-framing that you can actually see Misato’s body during.

The JSSDF scene partway through End of Evangelion in which NERV personnel are summarily annihilated.

For those missing the small detail of Shinji’s attempted suicide ,Shinji’s depressed state is made more clear when the JSSDF locate him. When they do they attempt to kill him execution style. Shinji doesn’t move.

“I don’t want to die…!” during the JSSDF’s assault, Asuka is awoken from comatose state. She is protected by her mother via an AT-Field by Unit-02. She gains back her self-preservation after this realization, and multitude of images play. One of them is an extremely gruesome close-up of Asuka’s face. (extreme body horror warning, proceed with caution)

The Komm Susser Tod scene beginning with Shinji strangling Asuka in harsh coloring, Naoko’s same action toward Rei plays right after. A few disturbing child drawings follow after, predominantly featuring death. (seizure warning, body horror warning)

End of Evangelion’s flooring nature comes from the fact that it builds up on the subtly horrific and makes these terrors explicit. Whatever existed beyond closed doors becomes now available for us to see,

XVIII. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

At the penultimate point of the abyss lies a horror as old as much of time. Of the humane being more disgusting than the monsters.

That we can be monstrous.

This fact becomes known with the appearance of the JSSDF as dispatched by SEELE, methodically mowing down NERV personnel with little to no weaponry of their own. We’re treated to NERV’s personnel in their hallways, some forced with the moral dilemma of leaving their own to die while surviving or helping their own while both end up being gunned down. 

It becomes apparent that SEELE has been gradually, intentionally chipping away at NERV’s Defense Budget, getting rid of the (little) competition they have after the defeat of the Last Messenger.

There’s a degree of contempt and casual sadism that comes with how they kill the personnel. In one instance, a NERV worker surrenders to the JSSDF, before being killed off in execution style in the distance (one headshot plus two extra shots for good measure).

When you look back at it, this sort of sheer, unabashed brutality wasn’t felt about the angels. Human attitude about the angels is largely fearing, anxious. This attitude accentuated itself through a sometimes nervous soundscape. Of observing these weird, ghastly creatures as they creep and swim. And the feeling’s mutual. The problem is that we don’t know.

But here? We do know.

When the JSSDF move in, the anxiety of angels graduates to the full-force dread of creatures that have killed before. The greatest enemy to humanity has always been with them all along, forcing them to a catch-22. The dread falls on Maya because she understands this perfectly. NERV has only ever shot at targets rather than living flesh…

...and SEELE knows this.

SEELE’s slow, but sure suppression of NERV’s budget is kicking a man while he’s down, but the man in question is a child instead. The JSSDF have more than enough firepower, calling it overkill goes beyond an understatement.

The JSSDF demonstrate the lack of remorse further with the discovery of Third Child, Shinji Ikari. One of the members presses the barrel to Shinji’s head before Misato steps in and kills the members.

The JSSDF isn’t the only damning evidence of how ugly members of humanity can be, however.

Humanity’s on-occasion grossness shows itself in small ways throughout the series, in dislike and conscious emotional distance for individuals, or beliefs of the angels being unintelligent and/or savage. Other times it manifests fiscally, in orchestrating more ethical approaches to stopping certain destruction to go seemingly haywire in order for NERV to receive more funding. This all due to a rival company of NERV challenging the very idea for its usage of child soldiers.

The worst of this damning fact is that many of the morally repugnant members exist on a higher echelon of society. There are Gendos running around, doing as they so please and they’re the tip of their echelon iceberg.

XIX. The Ultimate Paradox of Evangelion

“Anywhere can be paradise as long as you have the will to live.”

We’re treated to these words as Shinji finds himself on shores surrounded by an isolate hellscape, with Asuka next to him. The strange and altogether horrific nature of End of Evangelion has gotten fans  believing on End of Evangelion’s endgame was in certain, nihilistic. But Eva dipping its hand in the likelihood of meaning in the existentially meaningless isn’t even the ultimate terror of Eva’s self-aware universe, nor is it the tendency for man to become contemptible towards itself.

Evangelion greatest terror is the paradoxical nature of free will.

Yui’s words to her son as she drifts off into the ever-expanding cosmos, her status as a deity realized, is that paradise is universal. EoE assumes this unconventionally positive approach to a whole series worth of characters’ woes. The issue is: finding paradise is ultimately conditional.

Free Will’s paradoxical nature is what gives credence to the ongoing Free Will vs. Determinism dilemma. People can use their free will to take away yours entirely and this is most evident with Rei. Her existence is the result of a man’s unhealthy attachment to his wife, her lack of self-preservation the result of being conditioned as a multi-purpose vessel; her desire to merge with Lilith to become an omnipresent mother-figure was not hers. The nature of disallowing free will exists on a spectrum, as people can use their free will not to take away the whole of others’ freedoms, but to disallow them proper emotional growth. The adults around Asuka weren’t around for her during the series, leading to her eventual downfall.

Unit-01, throughout much of the second part of EoE holds the power to give or deny people’s physicality due to her status of having both Fruits of Life (the s2 engine held by angels) and Wisdom (from the Lance of Longinus merged with the Eva earlier on). This gives Unit-01 her deity status and while within Lilith-Rei, Shinji realizes that not everyone would be there in his life, that he can’t be in the center of others’ lives. It’s for that reason why he denies people’s physicality (“They can all just die.”), which turns people into LCL.

Shinji gives allows people the ability to come back from Instrumentality after realization arises that without other people, there’s no way to tell if Shinji, himself exists or not. Kaworu and Rei also give him the reality that with people back, pain will become an inevitability once more. With all the souls gathered by Lilith-Rei, they are released after her death.

With the souls of those cast into Instrumentality dispersed, those turned into LCL now hold the ability to come back from Instrumentality if they so choose.

While the idea of anywhere being paradise rings true, it’s not entirely satisfying to say that EoE is unconventional in its uplifting message to the viewer. Evangelion is at its core a cautionary tale. It warns the viewer into extensions of empathy and openness that others would properly live. This goes double for those with power. Without that compassion, we’ll have Asukas, Misatos, Ristukos, as well as Reis, those in the world whose downfalls come from emotional absences, neglect, objectification, and forced baggage. We would have Shinjis, those wanting to be at the nexus of others’ importance because they were deprived while young.

Kindness is a powerful thing and the lack of compassion present in all of Eva implicates most everyone. It leads to yet more abusive cycles, with the only thing breaking that cycle being a hand for those in need.

XX. Conclusion

What more can be said over this juggernaut which is a host to a bevvy of darkness? Evangelion is testament that anxieties and horror don’t need to start out as blatantly shocking or visceral to make an impact years down the line. They also don’t need to be out in the open to initially hook you either. You pick up on a few anxieties as well as horrors and you realize deep down, there must be more, which drives many of us to engage in this often times unabashedly dark source material.

Some of us are doing it later in the throes of adolescences, others are doing so well into their 20s, possibly dipping into their 30s. Point is, it draws in a lot of us and for a lot of us, it doesn’t ever let go.

Some of its charm could be chalked to the visceral ways in which characters interact. Even after years of re-watches, I’m still learning new things about the child soldiers, and I’m quite sure there’s others finding small details. There’s also the possibility of Eva’s approach to terror. I think Evangelion “humanized” its horror. It didn’t make horror a universally human feeling, but made it so that the true big bads looking to cause apocalypse weren’t actually the eldritch. Many of the angels are more or less lost kids looking for their mother (I still think Ramiel’s “singing” in episode 5 was it calling for its mother!).

With those newer details after 20+ years, there will be more added to the iceberg. Hell, there should be more added to the iceberg. This iceberg is the tip of an even greater iceberg. I’m still learning about their adults and their desires as well, how cyclical their actions are. For others, the draw-in factor lies in its low budget. Personally, it’s all of these for me: the low budget helped cement these darker aspects of the series due to horror and the genre’s overall relationship with limitation. It works best on limitation and had Eva worked with a much higher budget, I don’t think the content would be as effective, or perhaps it’d be much more difficult to make it so.

Evangelion is such a well-done, deceptively compact series that each lens a fan assumes has its own interesting rabbit hole. Your circumstance shapes the experience, and this too involves how you navigate the series’ menagerie of terrors.

I’d also like to thank the reader for getting through the largest rabbit hole in Evangelion. I’d also like to thank you for getting through the whole of this meta from a fan who slowly began to resonate with the characters as the years went on!

[zombified-queer]

"We make the best team." with leshy and grimora?

Leshy adds shimmering weight to the scale as Grimora grins. It's a friendly game tonight, a form of parley and socialization between the eastern Scrybes.

"You sacrifice too many cards," Leshy complains in his own rumbling telepathy.

"Oh?" Grimora places down a squirrel, sacrifices it, and places down a worker ant in the squirrel's place. "I hadn't noticed."

This is a lie and they both know it. Grimora's the only challenger who actively keeps track of bone tokens when playing with Leshy's cards. Where Magnificus lets the tokens fall where they may and P03 ignores the tokens at all, Grimora always stacks them neatly. Her rotten fingers memorize the weight and feel of each token.

Now, she plays with them like poker chips, assessing the moves she can make. Only one lane free. And plenty of bones to spare.

She plays the turkey vulture, which takes most of her stack. But it was worth it to avoid Leshy's porcupine. At least for now.

"Are you about done?"

"Thinking of sacrificing more," Grimora teases, making a show of tapping her painted nails on the table and lingering over her cards laid out on the table. Then she pulls her hand back. "Perhaps...but no."

She rings the bell instead. Leshy adds up the damage. He weights the scales with more gold teeth. So far, they’ve been trading blows equally but now Grimora’s scale rises above Leshy’s own.

He should stop her. She’s terribly clever when it comes to the game. Instead, Leshy rumbles, "Grimora..."

"Yes?"

Leshy plays his beehive but seems to consider his next words carefully. His unfocused thoughts hum like a hive of busy insects. Each word runs into itself half-finished or barely formed at all and, had she been a lesser creature, the subtlety would be lost entirely on her.

But she knows the question. A game they play during the card games. It’s always the same question.

"Your deck," she assures him, same as she always answers. “There’s some, what does P03 love using? Synergy? There’s synergy to our decks.”

"Oh?"

Grimora tracks the damage. Her worker ants are taking a nasty hit. One falls to Leshy’s bloodhound. But she draws the ever resourceful possum. Not terrible but nothing fantastic. Perhaps, if they were playing a longer game, she could find a use for it.

But tonight’s a plain game. One round. One winner. So she smiles at the possum.

"Blood and bone." She shrugs and places the resourceful possum in the dead ant's place, bone tokens given back to Leshy without the Scrybe of the Dead ever lifting a finger. "We make the best team."

Leshy hums, content with her answer. Enough so, that he's not mad when she wins tonight's game of cards.

[rodeoxqueen]

Keeping Up With A Himbo: Vergil (I)- Lost In The Sauce

Series Summary: A series of domestically fluffy snippets where the s/o of a Sparda learns just how much of a himbo their lover is.

Work Summary: Vergil tries to cook for you and loses a fight with a salt grinder. 

Tags/Warnings: Gender-Neutral S/O, Domestic Fluff, SFW, Vergil Is A Disaster And We Love Him, Meme References in Title and Story, Implied Touch-Starved! Vergil, 

Vergil always noticed that ever since he moved to your place, he had yet to move a finger when it came to making meals. Usually, it was you who chose to go to the grocery stores and come back home to cook. 

It always brought him good feeling, to sit beside you and have a hot meal with you. However, he soon realized how the scale of responsibilities was becoming lopsided, tipping in his favor. 

You would return exhausted from work, only to cook and clean once more. Vergil was also working at his brother’s shop, slaying demons and all sorts of nasty creatures. 

But he was a subhuman of ungodly stamina, he rarely felt exhaustion as quickly as you did. You knew that. And yet, here you were, still insisting to do most of the cooking. Although it was nice to be pampered, reading a book near the counter as you chopped up ingredients for a hearty lunch or dinner, Vergil knew it was unreciprocated for some time now. 

As of late, your work had become harder, with longer hours and lesser benefits. You found yourself pushing against the clock, having to prepare the evening meal despite the time crunch. You woke up earlier to sleep later. And yet, you staunchly refused to not provide for the two of you. 

He grumbled a bit on the inside, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His eyes glanced at the clock. You would be home in an hour, at around 9 pm. Much later than you had already been working. 

Humans are easily tired, and it was a Friday. For you to come home and deal with such a chore would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Vergil cursed himself. He was more than capable of doing some tasks around your shared home. After years of living alone, he was not used to all of this-this bliss. How could he be so foolish to not give back to his beloved? 

With strife, he promptly rolled up his sleeves and grabbed your apron. A bit small around his chest, as he was much more muscular than you. 

Thinking of the sight of your face brightening if you came home to a prepared meal, he set out to prove himself as more than capable in the kitchen. 

And perhaps garner some praise from you. Not like he’d ever admit he wanted it.

He opened the cabinets and fridge. Careful hands took out pasta and tomato sauce, setting it on the counter. Vergil read the instructions for the spaghetti, doing exactly what the box told him. 

It was already his job before to open the cans, and the glass jar popped freely of its lid within seconds. 

He tasted the sauce with a spoon, observing that the sole acrid taste of tomatoes did not sit well with him. 

What did you always add? Obviously salt and pepper. 

He did as such, taking out the old salt grinder. He proceeded to grind the salt into the pan of simmering sauce, bubbling perhaps too rapidly and violently. Somehow, no salt seemed to come out. He tsked and incessantly continued his motions for what seemed like whole minutes. 

When that didn’t work, he changed his clockwise motion to counter, and no avail. It must have been jammed in the inside, he deducted. 

He shook the grinder. 

The lid of the grinder fell into the saucepan, a cup’s worth of salt tumbling in also.

Vergil cursed, trying to take out as much salt as he could before it dissolved in the sauce. 

The hands of the clock comforted him, you were yet to be home for some time. 

The sauce was ruined and it was salty like the sea, ten-folded. 

“What can counteract salt?” Vergil thought to himself.

A dusty lightbulb flickered in his mind, and he reached for the little canister of sugar. 

He poured some sugar into the sauce, hoping to revert it back to normal. Years of consuming demonic flesh would do this to a man’s sense of culinary logic. 

The pasta, which he forgot to strain out earlier, flopped miserably into the pan. Vergil gave his attempt a try.  

As if salt wasn’t bad enough, the sugar combined in it made Vergil actually recoil. How on earth did you cook everyday?! 

More over, how on earth did he derail a simple recipe to this? 

Sauce, burnt, salted, sweetened, and pasta forsaken and soggy, Vergil had officially lost his mind. 

He went to take off your apron in shame, and all the hairs on his body stood up when the door opened, earlier than he presumed. 

You came home to a strange smell, kicking off your shoes and leaving your coat on the rack. 

“I’m home!” You called out wearily, ready to make some dinner. 

You expected to see Vergil sitting in his loveseat. What you got was Vergil standing awkwardly in the kitchen, as if he did something wrong and didn’t want to tell you. 

“He looks like that Robert Pattinson meme?” You half-smiled at your internal monologue.

“Ah! You’re cooking.” You say, making your way over to the stove. 

He murmured grumpily. It appeared he tried to make some noodles in tomato sauce. You went to take a forkful of it, when a strong hand caught your wrist. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“Why not? You made it!” 

“I don’t want to poison you.” His grip was strong, refusing to let you move your hand to your mouth. 

Instead of putting the pasta to your face, you put your face to the pasta, tricking the devil with your conniving reflexes. He released you with a sigh, his lover Loki-incarnate. 

Vergil expected a look of disgust akin to his own, yet you didn’t allow that reaction to appear on your features. 

“Not bad.” You say with endearment, looking up at him. He scoffs when your eye twitched at the soured taste. 

“You would be a fool to lie to me.” 

“I mean, it’s-it’s something.” You laugh, stirring the very-past-al-dente noodles. 

The fork clinks against something solid in the pot. You fish out the lid of the salt grinder. 

“Oh, oh you really got lost in the sauce.” You deadpan. He stiffens in embarrassment. 

“This was a waste of resources and time. I should’ve been better.” 

“Not to me it’s not. You did do your best. Were you trying to cook for me?” He nodded, refusing to look at you. 

You take another mouthful, noting sweetness. 

“Did you add sugar-” Your answer lies in the half-empty container of sugar. You cover your mouth to laugh. Vergil grumbles again. 

“It’s okay, Vergil!” He still won’t look at you. No matter how much you chant his name, he refuses to turn his head. 

“Hey. Hey.” You try to move his face to look at you. His jaw clenches and he relents his gaze at the wall, opting to be eye-to-eye with his beaming lover. 

“You tried. And that’s all that matters.” 

“And I have failed to make something edible. It’s not fair for me to serve you this after such a toiling week of work-” He glances at the pan with this scorn. 

“But you made something for me. And that’s very thoughtful of you.” You cup his cheek, your boyfriend subtlety leaning to your palm. 

“I’m still not letting you eat the rest-” 

“Oh trust me, I don’t want to.” You butt in, taking out your phone. 

 Takeout?” You offer, pointing to the GrubHub delivery app. 

He agrees, letting you pick out what you think he would like. 

Your grumpy devil sits on his dark blue loveseat, forgoing to untie the apron. You wait for your delivery, sitting in his lap. Your exhaustion from work and the emotional sauce rollercoaster is seeping away from you-

-and into the plush pectorals against your cheek, framed nicely by your usual cooking smock. 

“This man could burn down the kitchen with that apron on and I’d just let him.” You think to yourself. 

He’s lucky he’s cute. 

[andypantsx3]

war paint | 7 | conflict

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

It was months before the spy struck again, and by that point you’d almost forgotten them.

In that time, it felt like everything had changed.

You were no longer left behind in drills, instead matching and recently besting your peers in almost any exercise. Kaminari and Sero had wised up and refused to pair with you for partner sparring anymore, both tired of a month of humiliating defeats at your hands.

Sero had made the mistake, at first, of cooing at your shorter, slighter sword. “Aww, a bitty baby sword for a bitty baby,” he’d cackled, just before you disarmed him a mere minute into the match. He’d caught on quickly and no longer made the mistake of patronizing you.

Your letters to your parents were also getting notably happier, filled with a constant stream of comments about Kaminari and Sero, gossip from Mina and Hagakure like the ongoing servants’ hall thefts, and even ponderings on Captain Bakugou, who was perhaps the strangest change in the last few months.

You’d thought the staring and the disturbingly pleasant-adjacent behavior would dry up after he'd given you your new sword, but you had been wrong. If anything, Bakugou’s focus narrowed on you with an intensity you’d never been subjected to before. He routinely kept you after drills for extra practice, sought you out during trainings, and completely bypassed the confines of subtlety in the mess hall, staring almost through anyone who blocked his line of vision to you.

“It feels like the skin is melting off my back,” Kaminari complained one afternoon when he’d sat on the bench across from you. “Is he channeling his explosions through his eyeballs now?”

Sero had smothered a laugh in his rice. “It is kinda creepy how he stares at you, L/N. It’s like he's trying to murder you with his eyes. But our captain would never wait so long to strike.”

Privately, you’d agreed. You had no idea what he thought he was doing, but the intensity of his focus never wavered, even as the two of you spent more time together. Though he'd gradually become more lenient with you, it felt like the red of his eyes never left you.

After many months of evening drills together, and as Bakugou's manner with you shifted into something easier, you finally decided that you had built up just enough of a rapport to ask him what was bothering him. And so, one hot summer afternoon, you did.

“Do you still think I’m the spy?” you asked, dropping into the grass after a long spar. You mentally blessed the you from a few hours ago who’d had enough forethought to fill a water skin, and you drank from it greedily.

Bakugou dropped into the grass next to you, grunting. “The fuck gave you that idea.”

You looked at him nervously. “You do all that staring. I know you’re watching me.”

Bakugou smirked wickedly and your face went hot. “Maybe it’s your looks, pretty boy.”

You forced your features into a scowl. “Captain, be serious. What is it? Are you afraid of me fighting with Nishimura still...?”

He scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Nishimura would beg to differ, as he still routinely planted all manner of creatures in your bedsheets and had taken to hissing variations on “captain’s little bitch” when he saw you, but you didn’t bother to disagree. You certainly weren’t eager to escalate any arguments. Bakugou would probably run you through with your own sword.

“Then what?” you asked, tipping your head back to look up into the afternoon sky. Soft touches of sunset orange were beginning to brush over the edges of the clouds, and a late summer breeze ruffled your hair.

“The fuck kind of idiot gets a spy their own special sword?” Bakugou asked by way of an answer.

You laughed. “Maybe you wanted a challenge.”

A booted foot planted itself in your side, pushing you over. “You’re hardly a challenge, princess.”

You spat out dirt and grass, whirling on him. “I could be!”

Bakugou’s crimson gaze swept you from your hair to your boots, and a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you could be.”

A wave of hot embarrassment rushed over you like a rising tide. Lately, he had a way of speaking to you that sounded like it was more than it could have been, and the implication of his words unnerved you despite the fact that you were safe in your secrecy.

“Captain, really,” you said, sitting back up, “do you think I’m the spy?”

Bakugou grunted, pinning you with a scarlet eye. “No, shrimp. I don’t think you’re the spy.”

You warmed. “How do you know?”

He let out a breath, turning to you. In the early evening light he looked even better than usual, his hair ruffled and uniform in disarray from your spar, and his skin glistening with sweat. He looked thoroughly debauched, like he'd just rolled out of bed after a long time pleasing a woman. You might have continued on this embarrassing turn of thought had his words not jerked you straight out of your fantasy. “You’re hiding something. But it’s not that.”

The warmth in your chest immediately morphed into a hot stab of panic. “C-captain? Hiding something?”

He shifted, mouth pulling into a smirk, and leaned towards you. “That reaction, right there. You’re squirrelly as hell. Wanna tell me what it is, princess?”

Your heart darted into your mouth. “No! I mean--there’s nothing to tell.”

Bakugou leaned closer, and you felt trapped in his gaze like a fly in honey. “Really, princess?”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was close, so close that you could pick up that maddening scent of smoke and sweetness that clung to him. Something like a challenge glinted in his eye, and you felt like you might catch fire from the intensity of his focus.

You panicked, leaping to your feet and almost tripping over him in your haste. “I have patrol!” you all but shouted, stumbling away from him.

He glanced up at you in surprise, looking a little lost for a moment, before a sly smile crossed his mouth. “Wouldn’t want to be late for that, princess. Heard the captain can be a demon.”

You choked out a shocked laugh and stared at him. Then you thought better of it and turned quickly on your heel, rushing away toward the castle. Stay and you might well give yourself away. The captain couldn't find you out.

When you arrived at the meeting point for evening patrol, it dawned on you that Bakugou’s inquest might have been the lesser of two evils, however. Your patrol partner leaned sourly against the doors to the courtyards, looking as irritated as you'd ever seen him and your mood instantly darkened.

“Glad you finally deigned to do your job,” Nishimura hissed, straightening at your approach. “Captain’s little bitch.”

Your temper immediately skyrocketed. “I’m not in the mood, Nishimura.”

He smirked, his blue eyes narrowing in on you. “Bet you never say that to the captain when he comes sniffing around.”

Your hand involuntarily twitched over your sword. “Captain Bakugou is nothing but professional. Which is more than I can say for you.”

Nishimura let out a derisive laugh, turning his back to you and sweeping into the castle halls. “You think he’ll still want you when you grow out of that little baby face? Think he’ll treat you real special when you look less like a girl? Lord knows why he doesn’t just go into the palace if he wanted a real one.”

“The captain helps me with swordwork,” you ground out, following Nishimura begrudgingly. “That’s all. You yourself complained about how bad I was at the beginning. You know I needed help.”

Nishimura acted like he didn’t hear you, sweeping down the hall several steps ahead of you. What had put him in such a horrible mood? Was he going to spend the entire patrol like this? You didn't know if you could handle hours of this without snapping.

“Swordwork,” he finally scoffed. “Is that what you call it?”

Your hand shot to the grip of your sword. “Enough, Nishimura. I don’t know what your problem is with me but leave off!”

He whirled on you without warning, stalking over to tower above you. You took an involuntary step back. “My problem with you is that you’re an upstart little brat who gets special treatment. You started shit with me that first day and made a fucking scene, and now the captain watches me like a hawk and I can’t get him to leave me alone.”

Your temper boiled over like a kettle on a hot fire. “The captain watches us both, Nishimura! You think you’re the only one he was pissed at that day? In case you forgot, we both got extra training! He fought us both that day, and has watched us both since!”

Nishimura took a step closer. “And now look at you,” he sneered. “Warming the captain’s bed these days, aren’t you? Are you the one getting him to watch me? Trying to get me discharged so you can have a little revenge?”

You let out a noise like a growl. “If you weren’t doing anything wrong then you wouldn’t be afraid of the attention he pays you. Maybe you should knock it the fuck off.”

Nishimura’s eyes widened like he hadn't expected you to call him on it. “Knock it--? What do you know, you little fuck?”

His hand suddenly gripped your collar and he all but threw you through a doorway, into an empty office. He slammed you against the wall, snarling into your face. “What do you know?”

You stared at him, shock rendering you dumb.

He’d been putting the fucking animals in your bed for as long as you had been here. What the hell did he mean?

“Tell me,” he spat again, shaking you.

You reached up to grab at his wrist, but a movement at the corner of your eye disturbed the otherwise dark room. Your head whipped around, and you caught sight of a familiar cloaked figure rushing to the window.

“Look, there!” you shouted, and Nishimura turned around, puzzled.

His hand loosened and his mouth dropped open as he caught sight of the fleeing figure and you used his distraction to duck out from underneath him. Before you could get two steps, though, Nishimura caught the back of your uniform again.

“Let go of me!” you hissed, hand grabbing for your sword. “This is not the time! That’s the thief, Nishimura!”

The figure glanced back over its shoulder, looking startled anew when they saw Nishimura. A moment’s hesitation, though, and they were dropping out the window frame as they had once before.

You ripped yourself out of Nishimura’s grasp, running over to the window and hauling yourself up on the edge. A glance down into the garden, however, revealed no sign of movement, no swish of a cloak around a corner. Only a soft summer breeze rustled the trees. You let out a frustrated noise and whirled on Nishimura.

“We could have caught him!” you shouted. "What the fuck did you think you were doing!"

Nishimura looked a little pale, but he composed himself enough to turn back on you. “Why were you so slow?”

"Me?" you threw your hands up. "You held me back because you still wanted to fucking fight with me! You gave him time to get away!”

Nishimura let out a cold laugh. “You’re an upstart little brat making a scene as always.”

You curled your first, clambering down from the window. “Nishimura, put it aside just one time, my god. We have to go report this to the captain.”

Nishimura smirked, raising a hand to swipe through his dark hair. “Always running to the captain.”

You ignored him, stomping back through the room. “He’s trying to catch the thief. What good does it do us to not report this to him?”

Nishimura scoffed, but you felt him follow you out of the room, trailing you back through the halls of the castle. The hallways were mostly empty, the nobility tucked up in the great hall for dinner, and you made swift progress to Captain Bakugou’s rooms in the barracks.

You knocked on the door, and it pulled open almost as soon as you’d stopped.

Red eyes stared down at you. “What, shrimp?”

You heard Nishimura shift behind you and Bakugou’s gaze flickered up to him. “We saw the thief, Captain. In the south wing. He jumped out the window before we could corner him.”

Bakugou's expression hardened and he gestured the two of you inside.

You took in his quarters as your entered, noting that they were brutally neat, almost spartan, not a thing out of place. A desk took up most of the space in the room, papers stacked immaculately on top of it, two cramped chairs in front of it. There were no knick knacks or displays of personality to draw your gaze. Over Bakugou’s broad shoulder, you spotted another door that must have led into his private chambers.

“What’d he look like?” Bakugou asked, not bothering to gesture you to a chair.

Nishimura helped himself anyway. “Tall, captain. Taller than you I’d say, though it was hard to gage with him running to the window so quickly.”

You nodded, standing awkwardly. “He wore a cloak again -- it looked the same as last time though I didn’t get a closer look. It obscured his face, but he was definitely a man.”

Bakugou’s handsome features were impassive. “Did you fight?”

“No,” the two of you answered. You briefly considered ratting Nishimura out on his momentary mistake, but thought better of it. The thief had escaped and it would only serve to further sour Nishimura on you. It would not bring the thief back.

“What else can you tell me?” the captain asked, dropping into his own chair. Your gaze caught on the undone top button of his uniform where it bared his throat, lingering for a long moment. Then your eyes traced over the rest of him, flickering absently over blonde hair and golden skin, until you caught him watching you. You flushed and looked away.

Nishimura filled him in on the room, its contents, and the thief’s movements as he crossed to the window and leapt out. As he talked, you wondered idly why the thief had chosen to make a break for it this time instead of fighting as he had the last. Had it been the fact that there were two of you, you and Nishimura? Would he not fight two opponents?

When Bakugou had pried every detail he could out of you and Nishimura, he rose from his desk, impatiently shepherding you out of the room. Nishimura all but bolted, saying a quick farewell and beating a hasty retreat back to your bunkroom. Bakugou caught your elbow before you could do the same.

“Come see me tomorrow,” he said in low tones. His fingers were warm, almost hot through the fabric of your uniform.

You looked up into his face, and his scarlet gaze pinned you where you stood.

“For training, sir?” you asked, bewildered. Tomorrow was your half day of rest and you’d hoped to make the most of your afternoon, posting more of your wages to your family and hunting down a more unobtrusive place to bathe. You’d still been sneaking off to the servants’ baths, taking care to keep to the women’s side for fear of encountering the captain again, but there had been too many close calls with a set of laundry maids in recent weeks for you to be comfortable.

Bakugou looked you over. “No. Meet me here. We have a conversation to finish.”

A stone sank in your stomach. He wanted to know what you were hiding. Could he tell you’d been fighting with Nishimura again? “Am I in trouble, captain?” you asked nervously.

Unexpectedly, a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. It looked perfectly at home on his handsome features and you found yourself strangely out of breath. “You do something to get you in trouble, princess?”

Panic shot through you and you took a wild step back. Bakugou let you go easily, his fingers trailing over your arm as he released your elbow.

“No!" you gasped out. "I mean--there’s nothing! I’m um, tired. Good night, Captain.”

You turned and darted away to the barracks, your face burning.

As you left, you couldn't help but feel red eyes hot on your back.

[bosspigeon]

(hope the blood letting goes well :( ) nate/adam prompts??? lips chapped from the cold // warming the other's hands (or lips, 'cause, i mean)

in the dark, i can hear your heartbeat

Pairing: Adam du Mortain/Nate Sewell Word Count: 2603 Summary: Being sidelined during a mission isn’t too bad, if you ask Nate. Gives him plenty of time to ogle his commander. And maybe, if he’s very lucky, he’ll get to do a bit more than just ogle.

THIS PROMPT REALLY GOT AWAY FROM ME, HUH? Sorry it’s taken me so long to post it, I was just possessed by the spirit of Nate’s Intense Emotional Horniness. Title from “Cosmic Love” by Florence and the Machine~

Mild CW for some intense kissin’ and a bit of fondling, as well as some adult humor, but it doesn’t actually dip into anything too risque. Not for lack of trying on Nate’s part tho 👀

Watching Adam has become something of a self-soothing ritual for Nate over the centuries, even when it hurt him to do so. There was an odd sort of comfort in watching, in tracing the familiar paths of his silent, shackled longing with heavy eyes and quiet avarice. Then, he had to be careful not to overdo it, to make it obvious, however desperate he was to memorize every inch of his commanding agent, as if every moment with him would be the last. Adam’s eyes are sharp, his awareness of himself and how people observe him sometimes bordering on paranoia (though he would gut himself before admitting such weakness) and Nate learned to watch him when he was otherwise occupied, honed in with an intense, single-minded focus on whatever task the Agency had for them.

It became easier, over time, for him to contain the hunger of his gaze, to pick and choose the correct time to indulge himself in admiring the man who gradually became more than simply his superior, but his friend. Nate learned to play it off well when he was caught, to corral his racing heart like an errant beast, and he fervently thanked whatever power would listen to a lost creature like him that Adam’s interpersonal skills were not nearly so sharp as his observational ones. There was guilt, of course. A dark twist of shame that took far too long to shake, the niggling idea that there was something wicked about wanting the way he did, but Adam drew his gaze relentlessly from the very first moment they met. Nate was bedraggled, exhausted in a way beyond the physical, and no longer human, but meeting this steadfast, powerful, beautiful man lit a fire in his belly that warmed him, and even dulled the gnawing there, in a way he could never hope to explain.

He smiles to himself under the cover over darkness as he watches now, flushed with the knowledge that he does not have to hide it anymore.

Adam, body vibrating with restless tension as he watches the shadows, stiffens further when the weight of Nate’s gaze finally breaks through his focus. His spine somehow manages to straighten even further, and Nate’s smile widens, curling with mischief.

“What?” his commander hisses, breath fogging in the chilly gloom. The streets are quiet, and though this area is mostly condemned warehouses and abandoned factories, they lurk in the shadows and avoid the sparse yellow streetlights.

Nate’s smile does not falter, and he simply raises his brows. “Pardon?” he asks innocently.

Adam’s eyes narrow at him. “You are staring. Why?”

And, oh, he really can’t help himself, not when he is still all aflutter with the intoxicating freedom of having what he’s yearned for so long the ache had almost become a part of him. “You look quite striking in this light, is all,” he says. His gaze traces, unbidden, along the strong angle of Adam’s jaw, the proud curve of his nose, the breadth of his shoulders that strain enticingly against his coat, and when it finally drags itself back to his eyes, they are wide and startled. “What? Am I not allowed to admire you?” he teases, daring to slink closer.

“We… we are on a mission,” Adam protests, but his voice lacks the sharp edge of reproach it usually does when he is, say, chiding Mason or Felix.

“Chase, Mason, and Felix are on a mission,” Nate corrects gently, still smiling. “We are keeping watch until they return.”

Adam’s mouth twists, clearly sour about the reminder that they’ve been sidelined. Unfortunately, the mission is one that requires speed and subtlety, and the fewer of them to get in the way, the better. Chase was a rather last-minute addition— one that Adam did not approve of at first—until it was pointed out that his particular talents would be useful getting into the trapper hideout undetected. He even proved his skills by breaking into their Agency SUV without setting off the alarm. “That is still part of the mission,” Adam grumbles, turning away. Nate takes the final step that will get him where he wants to be, which is within touching distance of the brooding commander. Adam stiffens, but stubbornly keeps his gaze turned in the direction of the hideout, little more than a nondescript, barely-lit grey building in the distance. The radio silence makes them both antsy, but Nate takes comfort in knowing their team is a capable one, and if anything were wrong, they would be alerted. Nate allows himself another indulgence, and slides his hand over Adam’s arm. He’s done it countless times before. Even before this change, this new territory to chart, Adam allowed him and their team more intimacy than he allowed anyone else. Casual touches are not new, but now they feel strangely loaded. They carry a new weight.

An intent.

Nate squeezes the hard, tense muscle of Adam’s bicep, and Adam spins to face him again. He seems startled to realize Nate's gotten so close, and one hand comes up to press against his chest. Nate stops, lifts his head, and cocks his brows, waiting. There is a flush creeping up Adam’s cheeks, his breath seems to have frozen in his lungs (luckily he doesn’t really need it), and for a long moment, they simply stare at one another in silence.

Adam exhales in a plume of white mist, leaning forward ever so slightly. A hardly perceptible movement, but Nate has long since learned to read Adam’s gestures, his expressions, his silent requests. He slides his hand over the one on his chest, curling his fingers around it tenderly. “Your hands are cold,” he observes. Adam opens his mouth, likely to make some remark about Nate’s obvious comment, but it freezes before it even reaches the chilly air when Nate pulls the hand to his mouth to breathe warm air over it and rub it between his own. His eyes never leave Adam’s, wide and bright in the darkness, and that enticing flush only deepens when Nate presses his mouth softly to his knuckles. He kisses each one, slowly and sweetly, all the while rubbing circles into Adam's palm. Adam swallows, eyelids fluttering, and his lips part, but all that escapes them is a wordless, shaky little sigh.

And then Nate is being backed into the wall of the building behind them, Adam’s hands balled into the lapels of his coat. Nate’s shoulders hit the drab brick, and Adam crowds in close, green eyes flashing in the gloom. Nate’s hands find his hips, slipping underneath his coat, in part because his hands are somewhat cold as well, but mostly to get as close to skin as he can possibly get. He licks his lips, waiting. He’s waited three centuries for this, he can be patient a little while longer, and allow Adam to come to him when he’s ready.

The first kiss is quick, hardly more than a chaste peck. Adam's lips are cold, a little chapped, and Nate tries to follow them when they pull away. Thankfully, he isn't left wanting for long. Adam seems bolstered by his reaction, and kisses him again, more forcefully. His lips part in a sweet little gasp, and Nate takes the invitation, running his tongue along his lower lip and pulling it playfully between his teeth. He feels the sound that rumbles in Adam's chest more than he hears it, and he can't help but smirk. He hopes Adam can feel it pressed against his mouth, hopes he knows how much Nate delights in every reaction, relishes every little sound, and commits them to memory.

Adam's lips warm quickly against his, and his hands do too, sliding into Nate's open coat to brace against his chest. Nate warms his by tugging Adam's shirt from his belt and slipping his hands underneath. Adam gasps, his belly shuddering and twitching reflexively under his chilly fingers, but he doesn't pull away. If anything, he presses closer, clinging like a man drowning, soft, rough noises slipping helplessly from his mouth into Nate’s. Somehow, his thigh winds up between Adam’s, his hands creeper higher and higher underneath his shirt, inching it up over his belly. They’re pressed so close together, though, that his bare skin doesn’t meet the air.

Nate breaks away from the kiss with a heated gasp, and his wet lips are almost immediately stinging with the cold. It’s Adam’s turn to chase his mouth now, pushing up onto his toes to close the distance between them. He kisses at Nate’s jaw almost frantically, his fingers curling into his shirt, and when Nate doesn’t give him what he wants immediately, he growls.

It should be threatening. Nate has heard Adam growl before. He’s seen him bare his teeth and snarl to intimidate an enemy into backing down, or simply out of annoyance. Adam is a fierce presence when he wants to be, the very picture of an apex predator. Powerfully built, strong, and proud, with eyes that could gut a lesser man with a simple look. Now, growling as he mouths and nuzzles against Nate’s jaw, he just sounds needy.

Nate might die here, but it won’t be because Adam is any sort of threat. It’s easy enough to reverse their positions, pliant as Adam has gotten. It’s shockingly easy, really, and Nate is taken back to their conversation in Adam’s room, the way he simply let himself be spun around and pinned against his own desk, let Nate take whatever he wanted from him. They have sparred, however little Nate cares for it, and Adam’s beaten him every time. There’s no question which of them is physically stronger. The only reason Nate could push him anywhere is if Adam let him do so.

He shudders at the realization, an almost pained groan tearing free of him, and dips his head to catch Adam’s mouth again, earning another growl that he swallows up desperately. He wastes no time in slipping his tongue past Adam’s lips, tasting him with a feverish hunger that blisters with heat so intense he forgets the cold entirely. He gets his thigh between Adam’s legs again, and he pushes up, reveling in the choked moan it earns him. He swallows that too. Nate knows hunger, feels it gnawing at him even now, but even that ever-present, aching reminder of what he is drowns in the wake of this clawing need to get as close as possible, to taste as much of Adam as possible.

He is blearily considering how easy it would be to undo Adam’s fatigues and slip his hand inside, when he is nearly blinded by a sudden light washing over the little alcove they’ve sequestered into.

He snarls, lifting a hand to shield his eyes, and once the starbursts clear from his vision, he sees Chase standing at the mouth of the alleyway, shining his phone’s flashlight over them.

Nate doesn’t need the light to see the smirk curling the detective’s full lips, the wry quirk of his brow. He is flanked by Mason and Felix, who are wearing eerily matching, leering grins at the compromising position in which they’ve found their commanding agent and his second.

Heat rushes to his cheeks, and he peels himself away from Adam’s front (reluctantly, of course—embarrassed as he is, he still yearns to wrap himself around that powerful body and simply refuse to let go) with a sheepish cough. He finds his clothes are a bit… disheveled, to say the least, so he busies himself putting them back into order, risking a glance at Adam to find him hurrying to do the same.

Chase shakes his head disapprovingly and tuts at them. “Really, you two? Canoodling? In the middle of a mission?” He’s still smirking, eyeing them over with that sharp, knowing gaze.

Felix giggles helplessly and whispers “Canoodling” to Mason, who snorts.

“The mission,” Adam snaps, straightening his posture admirably, considering he is still hastily tucking his shirt back into his trousers. “You’ve gotten the information we need?” He sounds faintly breathless, but he hides it well. The pinkness of his lips, noticeably wet and swollen, less so. Nate wonders, a bit hysterically, if their accelerated healing mitigates things like beard burn.

Chase produces a manila folder from inside his jacket and waves it smugly. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“How did it go?” Nate asks, raking his fingers through his hair. “No difficulties, I hope? It’s still quiet.” He glances towards the building in the distance. Still and dimly lit. He breathes a sigh of relief. Even with the distraction, he does worry for his team, and is glad to see they seem no worse for wear. He is also, perhaps, glad to have a distraction from the heat still surging under his skin, the tangle of arousal still burning in his gut, the sharp awareness of Adam standing stiffly at his shoulder,  a person-shaped knot of tension.

“In and out,” Mason says with a nod and a little smile playing about his lips. Felix snickers again. “So easy it was almost boring.” The smile widens, and Nate braces for impact. “We definitely didn’t have as much fun as you two did.”

Felix collapses against Chase’s shoulder cackling.

Adam tenses even more, and Nate is concerned he’ll break something with how hard he’s clenching his jaw. “We'll return to the Warehouse and debrief there," he says stiffly, refusing to even deign the teasing with a response. Nate can't help but risk a touch to his lower back, light and barely there, in hopes it will soothe him even a little.

Adam meets his eyes for a fraction of a second, but Nate can feel the way his body loosens ever so slightly, and presses his palm more firmly to his back, smiling.

"Oh, yeah, I bet you're real eager to debrief at least one of us," Felix manages to wheeze out, still recovering from his last little fit.

Adam's spine snaps straight again, and he begins to draw away from Nate's touch, to retreat into himself, to overthink. Chase sees it too, and he elbows Felix sharply in the side to quiet him. Nate takes the moment of distraction and loops his arm around Adam's waist and reels him in to brush a quick kiss to his temple. "Relax," he breathes into his ear.

He waits for Adam to react, keeps his grasp loose, so he can escape if he needs to. He wants this to be easy, but knows it may not be for Adam. This is uncharted territory for them both, but they have always handled uncharted territory in vastly different ways. He cannot expect Adam to simply be ready just because he is.

Adam doesn’t relax, so he begins to step away, keeping his face neutral, his posture loose. The rejection stings a bit, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. A strong hand latches around his wrist before he can withdraw it completely, and Adam’s eyes are stubbornly narrowed when they meet his. Nate smiles, warmth blooming bright in his chest, and curls his arm around Adam even tighter, slipping two fingers through his belt loops. He finally begins to relax, if slowly, and Nate can’t stop smiling.

Mason stomps his feet noisily against the cracked asphalt, interrupting the little moment, and Nate tears his eyes from Adam’s to see him rubbing his arms. “Can we go? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“Is it?” Nate asks brightly, turning towards the black SUV parked deeper in the shadowed alleyway and steering Adam along with him. “I’d hardly noticed.”