#for the sake of equality i need to rank the women too. but for now take this

[skipppppy]

Just remembered that instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour last night I made a tier list ranking every male pokemon npc based on how divorced I think they are. This is a catastrophic discourse waiting to happen

#for the sake of equality i need to rank the women too. but for now take this #pokemon #pokeboys #professor turo #giovanni #larry #hardenshipping #perfectworldshipping #i cant. tag all of these characters. i just can’t

[cinnamonest]

Alright, we need to know. Who are top members of the "looking at women, who're minding their own business, and talking about how sad and concerned you are for them because 'with the way they are, they'll end up single and childless for the rest of their lives and no high value man would give them a chance," club? Like on a sclae of 1-10 how delusional would they become after they realize said woman doesn't give a shit?

Honestly one of my favorite tropes is the whole, “nooo what are you doing living your own life you're supposed to be someone's wife and having babies” thing. Like it has both benevolent aspects (the whole “you'll be happier this way” part) while also having malevolent aspects (the “you're a resource to be used and the resource is being wasted” part).

Like, even irl, there are some men who are like. Discombobulated. Baffled. At the suggestion that a woman can have other priorities in life. The sheer reeling disbelief when he sees a woman that's like 30+ with NO kids, NO husband. Unbelievable. It must be so awful for you, you must be so sad and desperate. Equally worrisome is that you might end up accepting some inferior, unsuitable guy that doesn't have the same Husbandly Quality™ of someone like himself, tragic…

But yes I’ve been thinking about this concept ever since the Diluc escape fic, and I know I’ve talked about him with that concept before, but consider CHILDE would be such a major candidate.

Childe is hopelessly drawn to you if you’re mean.

It’s honestly not healthy for his sake either, but it’s far worse to be on the receiving end. He can’t help it, it’s like waving meat in front of a hungry dog, an irresistible urge to have you.

You’re not exactly high rank, but not much of a subordinate, you’re more of an “other” category, you keep records and files and do a lot of scribe work for a division of units you’re assigned to. Unfortunately for you, higher-ups such as harbingers end up consulting you quite often for records and information… well, most of the time, they send someone else to do such a menial task for them, but he always comes in-person, waltzing in all cheerful and full of youthful energy — and loud, God. You wonder if parents these days have stopped teaching their kids about having an inside voice, because this kid certainly is unfamiliar with the concept.

You scowl, evident disgust on your face as you lazily sort through your records, not about to show any urgency for someone so annoying. You were kind of hoping to irritate him, even. But alas, he’s equally smiley and talkative when you hand him what he’s looking for.

Far too talkative. You’ve already handed him what he needs. Why is he still in here? Now he’s talking to you, asking you the dumbest questions about if you like working here and what you do and blah, blah. You didn’t ask for this. You force yourself to give answers, albeit blunt and short as possible, mostly consisting of yeah-s and sure-s, before the annoyance becomes too much and you ask through clenched teeth if he needs anything else or if he’s done here, an all-too-obvious hint to leave.

Thus marks the beginning of the bane of your existence, because unfortunately, by the will of some malicious higher power, he comes back. Regularly. Habitually. Eventually you start noticing that he isn’t even retrieving anything, half of the time, he’s coming in just to annoy you.

See, for him, it’s not just attraction, but a weird sort of pride thing. That initial coldness draws him in, because it presents a sort of challenge. He’s now overheard other people say the same thing, that you’re cold and mean to everyone.

Based on looks alone, he thinks, you’re old enough that you should be married. Maybe that’s why you’re so mean, you’re just bitter or something. Maybe you had bad luck and got hurt a bunch and now you’re all guarded. That’s actually kind of cute.

Naturally… well, naturally for him and whatever’s wrong with him, at least, it sparks an obsession. He likes chases, challenges. Things that are hard to get are that much more satisfying to obtain, you know? The feeling of having won, the feeling of being better than everyone else, knowing that he accomplished something other people can’t and now reaps the rewards, and the pride and ego boost that comes with it — that sort of thing is an intoxicating fuel, a motivator unlike anything else one could offer him. This does not combine well with the fact that he’s young and hot-blooded and in possession of a hair-triggered sexual aggression, not to mention a sense of pride for which the word ‘no’ doesn’t have any meaning.

It’s kind of sad though. Wasting your life away in some menial job, you’ll be so lonely and regretful.

You’re very lucky, then, that he takes pity on your plight. It will all work out.

Because he can fix you.

And he knows that that's just how you are — he's already composed multiple potential sad backstories that explain your behavior in a way that makes you seem cutely pitiable, that writes off your attitude as being ultimately due to being sensitive and afraid of vulnerability, very endearing — he's not deterred by you pushing him away.

In fact, he realizes, once you've opened up to him and he's forced you to expose the vulnerable side of yourself, you'll probably feel bad for all the times you were mean to him. You'll shuffle even closer (in the scene that plays out in his mind, see, you'll be in bed, naked, face buried against his chest, all clingy and needy) and quietly sheepishly mutter out apologies and ask him to forgive you.

Or maybe after a while, if he keeps being nice to you, you'll break down and cry and be more honest about how sad and lonely you are and how much you need him and then he'll be right there to hold you close and promise to be there for you, it'll be really sweet and will make him very happy. He's already planned out several lines to say that should elicit enjoyable reactions.

It will be so cute. It will feel so good. It’s just a matter of winning you over at this point.

Which, you see, proves to be the difficult part.

He’s getting there, he’s certain, you’re just a little more stubborn than he anticipated.

He’s already started trying to work his way there, during his regular visits. He’s already asked you if you’re married, watched the way your face turned all sour the moment the word came out and the way you rolled your eyes before you muttered a no. Ah. Sore spot, then, as expected.

And then asks if you have kids — because the first answer doesn't necessarily negate that possibility, and ‘jaded single mom with a bad ex' is one of the potential backstories he's theorized for you, so, it's worth asking. You still say no.

The ideal response, then, is—

That's too bad. You would make a good mother!

You narrow your eyes and glare like he's just said the most vile thing you've ever heard. But it's okay, it's cute that you’re so defensive (because you know he’s right and it’s what you really want).

It doesn't matter what you say, any words that come out of your mouth will be filtered through his delusions to match the reality he's already decided is the case.

You say you don't want to get married, this means you actually really do, you say you don't need a man, which means you actually really do and are aware of it and it bothers you, you say you're fine by yourself, which means you're very lonely, it's practically a cry for help.

He'll keep being nice, no matter how much you push back. He can tell it's just because you're sensitive. Maybe you think someone as young and charming as him wouldn't sincerely like you, and you're being defensive? That's probably it. Aw. That makes him feel good.

Poor thing. You're so defensive, so guarded. It's endearing, even if it's starting to get a little frustrating. But it will just take a little more work before he gets through to you, and then everything will work out perfectly… and then he’ll have a nice trophy for all his efforts, can savor the defeat and vulnerability you’ll show. You'll become so meek and submissive and it'll be just for him and no one else. It’ll be so nice. Just a little more time.

#i cant help but believe this man has the worst 'i can fix her' complex of any guy to ever live #.ch #.miso

[sidxlune]

Differently than before, he now looked upon people, less smart, less proud, but instead warmer, more curious, more involved.

When he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind, childlike people, businessmen, warriors, women, these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them, he understood and shared their life, which was not guided by thoughts and insight, but solely by urges and wishes, he felt like them. Though he was near perfection and was bearing his final wound, it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers, their vanities, desires for possessions, and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him, became understandable, became lovable, even became worthy of veneration to him.

The blind love of a mother for her child, the stupid, blind pride of a conceited father for his only son, the blind, wild desire of a young woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men, all of these urges, all of this childish stuff, all of these simple, foolish, but immensely strong, strongly living, strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for Siddhartha any more, he saw people living for their sake, saw them achieving infinitely much for their sake, travelling, conducting wars, suffering infinitely much, bearing infinitely much, and he could love them for it, he saw life, that what is alive, the indestructible, the Brahman in each of their passions, each of their acts.

WORTHY OF LOVE AND ADMIRATION WERE THESE PEOPLE IN THEIR BLIND LOYALTY, their blind strength and tenacity.

They lacked nothing, there was nothing the knowledgeable one, the thinker, had to put him above them except for one little thing, a single, tiny, small thing: the consciousness, the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. In all other respects, the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men, were often far superior to them, just as animals too can, after all, in some moments, seem to be superior to humans in their tough, unrelenting performance of what is necessary.

“I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much, I needed lust, the desire for possessions, vanity, and needed the most shameful despair, in order to learn how to give up all resistance, in order to learn how to love the world, in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished, I imagined, some kind of perfection I had made up, but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it.” — Siddhartha, Hermann Hesse (1922)

#photographers on tumblr #original photographers #hermann hesse #siddhartha #monochrome #words

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

I've Got You

So, I had noticed that I haven't written much Loceit recently either and I really wanted to!

This one is based off the TV show 9-1-1! Which is the show that Blue and I realised that we were both watching recently! While we were talking about some things from the show, this idea came to mind so I sat down and wrote for two hours straight- it was a lot of fun! 😊

I've gifted this story to @red-imeanblue! She's been a fantastic writing partner and wonderful friend, so this is just a little something to show my appreciation for everything 😊💛

I hope you enjoy reading this one! The story and warnings are under the line! 💜

Read on Ao3!

General writing taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @writerwithtoomanyships @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue (If you would like to be added to the general writing taglist- let me know! 🌟)

I've Got You

Logan/Janus

Warnings: Death/murder mention (not of main characters), coping with death, weapon mention, angst, overwhelmed moments.

Logan’s leg bounced rapidly as he sat in his police car outside a familiar house. He fiddled with his LAPD badge making sure it was completely straight before working up the courage to open the door, just like he did six years ago. He never thought that he would be doing this. The case had no leads, no suspects and it was declared ‘cold’. All resources were taken away from him and the department working on the case, but Logan refused to give up on it. He needed to find out who murdered the man that he had loved, damn the consequences. His mind raced back to where this all began. He couldn’t stop the memory from completely consuming his mind.

He was a young officer at the time. Young and in love. He had grown to hate this part of the job, where he had to knock on the door and tell a loved one the horrible news about their family member. Watching them cry and collapse in front of him, begging him to tell them that it was a mistake, it was hard to do. He wanted to cry with them, but he needed to be calm and composed for their sake. Throughout his training, he was always called so many things; determined, calculated, a little-closed off… but damn good at his job. This night, this night was the ultimate test and he knew he would fail. He pulled up outside the house he had been to so many times. He had family dinners here, parties here… he had got engaged in this very house, and now… now that was gone. Logan looked at the shining gold band on his finger, and immediately felt the tears start to form in his eyes. He couldn’t do it, he insisted that he would despite everyone’s objections… how do you tell the woman that has been a mother to you, that their son… your fiancée was never coming home? He took a deep breath, felt a hand pat his shoulder in sympathy before he opened the car door slowly. The flashing lights of the car stayed on in solidarity, the red and blue colliding in front of him was oddly reassuring. Every step he took towards his second home was agony, he wanted to turn and run but he shook that thought away. Logan knew he had to do this… for her… and for Sam. His composure was intact for a brief shining moment, until he looked up at the room where Sam proposed and his resolve began to crumble instantly. The blue front door opened frantically, and his heart broke when he saw Bea’s face. The woman he wished was his mother, this women supported him at every turn. She came to his graduation from the academy despite Sam graduating the year before, she held him after rough cases and she gave him advice whenever him and Sam ever had a fight. That was never often though, they were completely besotted with each other, even if it took them so long to realise it. It was the best three years of his life, and it had been destroyed by a single gunshot.

“Bea…” His voice came out in a strangled sob, and that was the only word he could sound before he lost the small amounts of composure left.

“Logan?! Are you hurt?!” He shook his head frantically and his body wracked with sobs when Bea tried to gently lift his head to get him to look at her. When their eyes met, she knew instantly and her eyes filled with tears in shock and realisation.

“Sam? No, no, no it can’t be! He’s not…” All he could do was nod his head, he couldn’t even find the courage to say the word out loud. Bea screamed and pulled Logan in for a tight hug as both of them mourned together.

Ever since that day, he became a completely different person. He would still be described in the same way; determined and calculated, but there would be more added on now. The rumours that flew though the department said he was now; cold, unfeeling, fighting a lost cause. Those weren’t true. He still felt the emotions after every case, when talking to every witness, talking to family members but it just never showed anymore. The whole department knew about his determination to find out who killed his fiancée, but he was equally determined to keep the streets safe. He didn’t take any shit from anyone, and that’s how he rose through the ranks like he did. He was a damn good cop, but a very lonely person. The brick walls around his heart were stood strong, and it was clear that they were never going to break down again. At least that’s what he thought.

The day that he started getting calls with the LAFD, that’s when things began to change. Janus, the fire department head was a mysterious man with a dangerous and unknown past, but he understood Logan. He understood why he closed himself off, they were both fighting demons that they didn’t want their teams to know about. As they got closer and opened up to each other, they realised they could help each other.

When Janus dealt with an extremely difficult job where they fought a fire for five hours, and managed to save an entire family in the process, Logan took one look at his face and knew that he needed to find him straight away. He got another police officer to keep the people behind the tape and he ran after Janus. Logan found Janus hiding behind the fire truck gasping for breath, and without thinking he wrapped his arms around his shoulders letting him know he wasn’t alone. Logan didn’t understand why Janus took this one badly, he had just saved a family… but it turned out that a few years ago, he couldn’t save his own from a terrible fire that he unintentionally caused. They sat together just holding onto each other until Janus was okay again.

“Janus. It’s going to be alright. The images in your head are wrong. What you did today, that was real. I’m real, you’re real. Let’s work things out for real, together.”

They got closer immediately, and Logan could feel the walls around his heart starting to crack and fall down brick by brick. He remembered the nerves on their first date, they stumbled around each other until they found their feet, and agreed to meet again. They snuck off away from prying eyes during calls, stealing kisses and flirting like a couple of kids. It didn’t take too long for their co-workers and friends to notice, and although Logan thought he would mind… he couldn’t care less what people thought. It was him and Janus against the world. They fell in love, moved in together and started their lives afresh. When Logan came home to find the room covered in rose petals and Janus kneeling holding a small box in front of him, he couldn’t believe that this was happening… again. He sighed and kneeled next to Janus, and told him everything about his past in a dramatic stream of consciousness. Janus listened patiently and wiped away his tears when he cried at the memory. When he was done, Janus was still holding the ring box in front of him.

“I haven’t scared you off?” Logan asked as a genuine question.

“You were… feeling. You’ve spoken from your heart for the first time since we got together… and it’s one of the many things that I love about you. I don’t want to wait another minute. I want to take every step with you, for the rest of our lives. Marry me, Logan.” Janus smiled as Logan nodded frantically and launched himself at Janus into a hug. As the ring was put on his finger, he saw how perfectly it fitted… just like it did before. He realised that was okay, he wasn’t forgetting Sam. He was taking a different path with someone new.

Everything was perfect. They were living the perfect life and Logan had finally found the passion for his job once again, and he pursued every opportunity with determination. They watched each other’s backs when they were on calls together, and they worried for each other when they were in dangerous situations. They were just grateful when they came back home to one another at the end of every day. A gift that Logan appreciated just as much as Janus.

Today, two years later, it was the sixth anniversary of Sam’s murder when he got the phone call. They had finally found some concrete evidence for the case. He almost dropped his phone before running out of the house, not even saying goodbye to Janus. He raced to the police station and barged through the doors to find out the evidence. They had found the gun, and in turn, the guy who owned it. Logan’s heart pounded in his chest… had they finally done it? Had they caught the son of a bitch who destroyed his life? He stayed calm and searched for the last address of the gun owner. When it came up on the screen, he immediately grabbed his car keys and drove like his life depended on it. Rage filled his veins as he pulled up outside the house, but he could hear Janus’ voice in his mind telling him to calm down, getting angry wouldn’t help. He nodded before clearing his mind to shut off his feelings as he walked up to the door. As a scraggly man opened the door who thankfully matched the image he was given, his eyes widened in horror as if he recognised Logan.

“Roy Williams? You’re under arrest for murder. Move, before I make you.” He tried to run, but Logan stuck his leg out and watched him fall unceremoniously in front of him. He dragged the man to his feet before handcuffing him and throwing him into the back of the car. They drove back in silence, his hands turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. As he got back to the station, his commanding officer was waiting to take him in. As much as he wanted to be in that interview room, he knew he was too connected to the case. He was promised that he would be notified as soon as possible as to the conclusion of the interview. Logan sat at his desk, clicking meaninglessly though emails on his computer for what felt like hours. His commanding officer came out of the interview, Roy Williams still in handcuffs and being taken away. The look on his face said it all.

“He’s confessed. We got him.” Logan stood up and thanked him sincerely before racing off once again. He knew where he needed to go.

His mind brought him back to reality as his hand rested on the door mechanism of the car. He was as ready as he would ever be. He walked to the front door timidly, then knocked on the door and stood to attention. The door opened softly and a frail, exhausted woman looked shocked at what she saw. He had to admit, it was good to see her again, but there was a crippling sense of guilt that he hadn’t come back sooner.

“Logan?? Well, look at you!” She smiled that smile she always gave when she was proud, and it made him glad that he was coming back with good news.

“Bea… we made an arrest.” She gasped and put her hands over her mouth before rushing forward and embracing him. He hesitated for a millisecond before hugging back.

“I knew you’d never give up. Thank you.” The warmth and gratitude in her voice pierced Logan’s heart, and he let one tear roll down his cheek before letting go. He squeezed her shoulder lightly before heading back to the car. A huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders, he felt free… genuinely and completely free for the first time ever. He sighed before realising the time and he once again raced home to his husband. He ran a couple of red lights, but it was okay. He just wanted to be with the one he loved.

His keys rattled in the front door and Janus was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, there was a mix of worry, relief and happiness in his eyes. Logan walked slowly, almost in disbelief and put his keys down delicately on the table.

“Hey you, I’ve been worried! Is everything okay?” Janus asked with a raw sincerity.

“Yeah. Yeah. We… er… we made an arrest. For Sam. We got him.” He looked at the floor, feeling a catastrophic amount of emotion threatening to break free. Janus stepped forward, Logan could feel his eyes on him, and he could feel the smile radiating off of him.

“I... I can’t believe it’s finally happened.” Logan nodded. It was at that point that he knew, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Everything he was feeling… the pain, the fear, the relief, the love. He cried out and began to collapse to the floor. Janus’ eyes widened before lunging forward and grabbing Logan in his arms. He held him as Logan gripped onto him as tight as possible.

“It’s okay. I’ve gotcha. I’ve gotcha.” Janus whispered reassuringly as Logan sobbed into Janus’ shoulder. Janus kept hold of him and guided them gently to the floor, he held him tight and refused to let go until Logan let out everything he was feeling. It was raw, painful but beautiful. Eventually, Logan stopped crying but refused to let Janus go, so he picked Logan up and they sat on the sofa and eventually fell asleep firmly wrapped in each other’s arms. They both knew that everything would be okay.

They were two halves of the same coin, they had both been to hell and back… but despite everything they were running away from, they were the best thing for each other. Logan thought about one thing as he slept, something that Janus said a long time ago.

They really were like two pieces of different puzzles that somehow fit together perfectly. They were both on completely separate paths, but were thrown onto a new one... Helping them to move on from their demons, together. For now and always.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #ts logan #ts janus #source: 911 on fox #romantic loceit #tw death mention #tw murder mention #tw weapon mention #angst #fluff #hurt and comfort #tw overwhelmed emotions #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #firefighter au #police au

[flodaya]

Rank the druck couples. I really want to hear your thoughts on them

Oh wow ranking the druck couples, I was just trying to rank the kisses (which I will still do with a later ask) but I’ll gladly talk about the couples too. druck really knows how to write couples with chemistry

tbh I think I can categorize the couples better than I can actually rank them because I can see that eg. for me as a lesbian kieutou is just closer to my own experience and more what I have always craved as representation (also because i am currently invested in them) than davenzi but I can absolutely see how for someone who is a queer man and/or a trans man this can be the total opposite, and I don’t think one is better than the other necessarily. so rather than ranking them I will put them in six tiers (and low-key rank them within the tier on how much I personally subjectively love them)

tier 1: god tier couple, druck has done it again

1. Kieutou - okay look, we don’t know how this will play out, we don’t really know how kieu my feels about fatou, maybe I’m reading this all wrong and there will be so much hurt and angst between them that even I can’t take it anymore. but as of right now I really feel like that these two have been quietly and secretly crushing on each other for an agonizing period of time which makes their dynamic so refreshing, you know? they seem so equally awkward around each other. kieu my is intimidated by fatou because fatou has been open and familiar with her sexuality for longer and probably has more experience dating and crushing on women. Fatou is totally infatuated with kieu my and thinks she hung the moon and she is way too cool and “popular” for her. so they both think the other one is too good to be true, which ensures us more pining over the next couple of weeks because this kiss for sure did not seal the deal. they will still think the other one wasn’t as into the kiss as they were themselves, they will probably both pretend to regret the drunken kiss for the sake of staying (becoming lol) friends since they both in their own words wouldn’t date their girl-friends. honestly, mutual adoration and infatuation with lots of miscommunication is my favourite trope (add a little jealousy and you have my exact ao3 searches)

2. davenzi - I feel almost bad for ranking them second but I mean second is still top top tier and I still adore them. I think those two were very much equals from the beginning. That’s why I personally love them more than any other evak couple’s dynamic because it never felt like David was either out of matteo’s league or was just toying with matteo. they were just silently falling in love with each other more and more every day. it’s love and acceptance all around

3. Josh/nora (I still refuse to use spiderwitz as their shipname despite it really growing on me lol) - no love triangle, full support, lots of good communication. What else do you want from a relationship. seriously, those two are a perfect example of a healthy relationship and I hope teens see them and strive to find something similar. no more “changing the fuckboy”, wait for your josh, it’s worth it. technically a straight evak in their own special way huh, but idk, so different too. like all druck couples, but especially for them, I love how much fun they have together, they love teasing each other in such an adorable way

tier 2: super cute and healthy but needs more development

4. mazzouk - remember summer 2019, remember their palpable chemistry, remember how druck was like “whelp we don’t know how to write couples who don’t kiss, so let’s turn back to mia and hanna” okay that was enough pettiness, but honestly I think they work really well, they had the clearest and most honest communication out of all the druck couples because King mohammed just loved openly communicating. but they’re ending felt way too rushed, the clip in the park was cute but they should have talked about everything more, delved deeper into what it means for them, how they will go forward etc

5. Kiki/carlos - obviously as a background couple they need more development, but I feel like we have seen enough over the past 4 seasons to call them one of the healthiest skamverse couples. they support each other, they encourage each other, they take interest in what other one is doing and interested in! definitely the best vilde/magnus variation and even without the comparison just a super good couple

tier 3: I have a soft spot for them but objectively not the best example of a relationship

6. Winterberg - i do have a tiny place for them in my heart (especially because they were the first skam season I have ever watched live) but..... any noorhelm couple overall is just a bit yikes for me. They had their very cute moments though rare, but fuckboys is just not a trope I personally ever enjoy. tbf they were still light-years better than most other noorhelm couples. and I really appreciate that they broke up, that definitely gives them a bonus point

tier 4: super indifferent yet somehow disappointed 🤷‍♀️

7. Sam/abdi - they didn’t work for me at all, Sam was very clear about not wanting a serious relationship and abdi still got his hopes up. also I’m just overall a bit eh about how Sam was written very one-dimensionally and boy-crazy.....

8. hanna/stefan - award for the most unnecessary couple, I’m glad we got Carl though. I also feel like this relationship didn’t add anything to hanna as a character, it actually did her a great disservice imo, Stefan was purely another obstacle between Jonas and her....

tier 5: Jonas Augustin s2 ruined this ship

7. Jonas/hanna - Seriously, Jonas ruined this ship bc if it wasn’t for how he behaved in s2 I would have ranked them in the healthy and cute tier...... but wow, Jonas in season 2 really was Constantin and that is just a big yikes from me

tier 6: YIKES

8. Nora/construction - I still hate the fact that there are actual fan videos for them on youtube

#druck #skam ranking #ask #my posts

[cherriesink]

Maeda Yoshinobu - Murmurs

Murmurs are snippets of character reflection earned by increasing Explore Points during Exploration. They usually include 6-7 monologues about other characters and 3-4 monologues about things important to the specific character.

These lines are taken straight from the English translation of the game, so fair warning of bad grammar.

About Yatsufusa “It looks like Yatsufusa won’t join Code Zero no matter what... If I remember correctly, “Yuuki” is the last name of the gentry in the navy. Is he related to them? 

He held a strong aversion towards to the military. He also isn’t suited for the military. Although, differently than Kurusu. He rejects the military under his own strong belief.

...Well, he won’t become a threat to us. It’s unthinkable that he will become a suspect in a special case at least while he’s living like a decent human being at Tenman-ya. 

Never did I imagine that I will be running a top-secret vampire unit when I signed up to become a soldier... But look at me now, going back and forth between humans and vampires. I don’t want to accept it, however- I’m not much different than Yatsufusa in that sense. I’m neither a human nor a demon myself...” 

About Kurusu “Shutaro Kurusu- the strongest vampire in Japan ranking in A-Class. But why did such power go to a rookie like him above all people... It gives me a headache just thinking about it. Even if he’s physically A-Class, he’s useless in battles if his heart and soul are unranked.

On top of that, he shows sympathy for both vampires and humans. How did such a spineless one make it into the army in the first place... Sheesh. Our hearts and soul are the only things we cannot train to get better at... Perhaps it’s what we call a quirk of fate.

Even so, I must build up the unit for Code Zero to function. Especially Kurusu. Practice makes perfect- I must teach him how to move before thinking anything. I’ll teach him how to become a proper soldier that slays a vampire with his reflex. 

First and foremost, I must change the way he talks... What in the world did the army teach him? He’s no different from a civilian on the streets...”

About Yamagami “That fool, Yamagami and I graduated the same year from the military academy. He is incompetent as a soldier. He wasn’t as smart as me but he wasn’t bad either. That is why he was assigned as the military attaché to the Embassy of Japan in London. He was posted in Great Britain as a military diplomat... His assignment was to look into the highly confidental information of Britain’s special unit. So how did it end up being “Many go out for woll and come home shorn”?

That fool! How can he be so foolish, turning himself into a vampire?! And an unranked one... Even I can beat him. But like they say, “Fire and water make good servants but bad masters,” he can detect vampires that are stronger than him- in other words, every vampire that’s hiding in Japan because he’s unranked. He is the eyes of Code Zero so to speak.

...But did you really have to become a vampire yourself? You fool...”

About Takeuchi “Takeuchi is indispensable for Code Zero. Vampires are full of weaknesses. And Japan does not have that many vampires compared to other countries. Kurusu is the only A-Class. The the rest are C, D, or unranked...

We will fall behind foreign countries on special missions at this rate. That is why Takeuchi’s inventions are crucial to cover up our weaknesses so we can equally compete with western ones. Some weapons are ready to be used in an actual battle.

...But I’ve heard rumors that he’s selling his inventions in department stores since he has been whining about the recent budget cuts... Apparently, the sunscreen for vampires are popular amongst women and bringing him loads of money... It’s a military secret for god’s sake.

What in the world is he thinking...?”

About Suwa “It is impossible to understand what Suwa is thinking. It’s nearly impossible to control a vampire that’s been living since the Azuchi-Momoyama period. He can’t even control himself because he’ll lose himself the second he smells human blood. Therefore- the deodorize mask is a necessity for him. 

I’m sure the only ones who’ve killed a human being in Zero are Suwa and myself. He was a stray vampire for a long period of time. Therefore, dangerous. He is a bare sword. The only element that allows me to control him is his loathe against vampires. Apparently, he hunted vampires as a hobby before joining Code Zero and was feared by other vampires.

In any case, I shouldn’t have to worry about him as long as he has blood, the deodorize mask- and a target to hunt for.

...If he ever becomes a threat against mankind, I will have Kurusu take care of him. I must train Kurusu hard enough until that day though...”

About Defrott “Honestly- I want Defrott on our team. There is nothing more reassuring than having an S-Class vampire in Code Zero. However... sadly, that is impossible. Since he is only interested in plays and nothing else. His pride as an S-Class vampire will not allow let alone being used by the military.

On the other hand, he does not attack people. We cannot beat him either, even if we use all our resources. There’s no other way but to keep a certain distance from him. 

That’s where Yatsufusa comes in. Because it seems that Defrott likes his company. I don’t quite get them but Yatsufusa is essential in order for us to keep a good relationship with Defrott. Either way, I’ll let him be for the time being.

...Wasn’t Suwa into plays too? Perhaps I can make Suwa go undercover. It’s combining pleasure and profit for him.”

About Tenman-ya “Tenman-ya deals with vampires for a different purpose as Code Zero. It’s surprising that they’ve been protecting vampires since the Edo period- long before Code Zero was established. And the owner being human. Shinnosuke doesn’t know the exact history of the shop either but he is the 13th proprietor. 

Honestly, it is no ideal that another organization has the same amount of information as us- if not even more than Code Zero.

However, I must acknowledge that they are the reason why the vampires living in the Imperial City are quiet. We do no need to make waves if vampires are buying blood in exchange for their labor.

That manager- Ishikawa was it? He makes me curious but we should keep our relationship as is since he shares information with Code Zero while supporting Shinnosuke.”

About Code Zero “Like they say, “Only God knows what will happen,” who would’ve imagined that there are vampires in this world. I was living as an earnest soldier and now I’m in the middle of a war with vampires.

It’s as if I’m in one of those nursery tales. I never understood the story of “Momotaro” even as a child. Because if I was going to fight the ogre, I will never choose to take the dogs, monkeys, or pheasants with me as a fellow companion. They’re useless.

However, my fellow companions turned out to be... Yamagami, an unranked vampire, Suwa, an irrational one, Takeuchi, a science geek, and Kurusu that refuses to fight. Suddenly, Momotaro has better companions than me.

...Either way, I must go fight the demon with these subordinates of mine. What a pathetic Momotaro I am...”

About the Right Arm “I amputated my right arm because I got bitten by a vampire... If I didn’t act with my impulse, I would’ve probably been long gone by now. Or be sleeping in one of the coffins that Takeuchi invented. 

It was inconvenient at first, but this prosthetic arm isn’t so bad anymore. It can act as a shield against a vampire’s fangs and a weapon if I swing it around. Being able to fight with one arm is actually an advantage when putting it into practice.

The only problem is that my heart suffered serious damage when I lost so much blood from amputating my own arm. Either way, I would’ve died if I hadn’t cut it off on the spot. I should be glad that I was able to extend my life. Other than that, I just have difficulty driving...

I just remembered that I punched a vampire so hard the other day. I have to get Takeuchi to fix my arm. I should have him reinforce it even if that means a few extra kilograms.”

About Vampires “I’ve never even heard of vampires when I lived in my hometown of Saga. People went missing sometimes. Was it a vampire’s doing now that I think about it?

I’m sure I’ll get mocked by myself if I tell myself from just a few years ago what I’m doing right now. Nobody signs up to join the military thinking that they’ll become... a colonel of a special unit for vampires.

I’m glad I trained hard in swordsmanship to the point where it hardened my hands. Bullets are useless with vampires. Even if it hits, it won’t cause much damage. They’re easy to read because they all do the same move. They come up to you and try to bite you on the neck. That’s when they slow down for a split second. The most efficient way to kill them is to slice them at that moment.

...All this knowledge that I have is only useful against vampires. Even if I told anyone, they’ll laugh at me for sure.

Oh well. You never know what happens in life.”

#mars red #maeda yoshinobu

[wittyvitale]

Names (A Trepha-Focused Castlevania Drabble)

Summary:  Sypha is expecting her first child and has a conversation with Trevor about possible names.

Author’s Note/Warning:  So in addition to some fluff, there's also mild discussion about sex/penis spells and some graphic violent imagery consistent with the series. I also included some of my OC Belmont and Belnades ancestors. Enjoy!

Sypha, who was 7 months pregnant, curled up on Trevor’s lap and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“We still need to talk about names, Trevor,” Sypha started. “I know you want to name our child after one of your Belmont ancestors. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Trevor looked up and hummed in thought. “Yeah, I have been thinking about that. If it’s a boy, I’d like to go with Christopher, after my great uncle.”

Sypha frowned. “Wasn’t your Uncle Christopher the one who had trouble getting an erection and constantly needed to use the penis spell book?”

“No no, that was my Uncle Frederick. He was kind of an asshole. Never stopped talking about his bloody limp dick, really pissed off my Aunt Marie. No, Uncle Christopher was the one who single-handedly defeated 3 water dragons and barely got a scratch. A true Belmont warrior.”

“Well in that case, I like the name Christopher. How about for a girl?”

“Sonia. Definitely Sonia,” Trevor said with no doubt in his voice whatsoever. “After my Grandmother, who we all called Nana Sonia.”

Sypha smiled. “Sounds like Nana Sonia was very special to you, Trevor. I would like to hear more about her.”

“She was special, all right. One of the toughest women I ever met in my life. Hell of a monster hunter. She took me out on one of my first hunts when I was about 10. We were ambushed by a fire drake, and since I was still new to the hunts, it took me off guard. He knocked the short sword out of my hand and slammed me against a tree. I remember going in and out of consciousness and seeing the fire drake towering over me. I really thought I was done for. But here comes Nana Sonia, and do you know what she did?”

“What, what did she do?” Sypha asked, completely invested in the story.

“Nana Sonia took out her short sword and sliced the fire drake’s dick off. Just cut it clean off like the way you chop a carrot. And that wasn’t all. Nana Sonia took that severed dick and shoved it right into the fire drake’s throat. He screamed for a long time, tried to breath more fire, but the dick was lodged in too deep. Eventually he choked on his own dick and died. And that was when Nana Sonia became my favorite family member. That was also the day I learned that I should never fuck with Nana Sonia.”

Sypha’s mouth hung wide open in amazement. “My god, what a story! She sounds like quite a woman. Were all of the women in the Belmont family that skilled with weapons and combat?”

Trevor nodded. “Even if the Belmont women decided that monster hunting wasn’t what they wanted to dedicate their lives to, they were all trained on how to use the whip and the sword. That’s Belmont tradition, regardless of gender. The Belmonts never believed in that whole “traditional gender roles” bullshit the church put out. Our women were just as strong as the men, if not stronger. I mean, Nana Sonia could cut off your dick for Christ’s sake.”

“The Speakers feel much the same way about gender,” Sypha started. “The church believes that women are inferior to men and therefore must be subservient to men. Speakers believe that all genders are equal. We even have a few in our ranks who don’t use a gender at all.”

“Speaking of, are there any names you have your heart set on, Sypha?” Trevor asked. “We’ve only been taking about the Belmonts. How about the Belnades clan? You said sometime ago that you wanted to raise at least one Speaker magician.”

Sypha looked up thoughtfully. “When Speaker Magicians marry outside of their tribes and reproduce, there’s only a 30% chance that the child will possess any magic power. The mother can feel the magic in the womb as early as 3 months. This child I’m carrying now… I don’t feel any magic power. This child is more Belmont than Belnades. It doesn’t mean we’ll never have a child with magic power, but that is not the destiny of this little one.”

Trevor hummed thoughtfully. “We’ll have a little Belnades eventually. It may take a few tries, but I’m up for it if you are.” He said the last sentence with a grin. Sypha grinned back.

“Well of course! We’re definitely having more than one child, and one of them will be a Speaker Magician, I know it already!”

“So what names are you thinking of for our little Speaker Magician?”

Sypha shifted her body so she could lay on Trevor’s lap. “I’d probably name our child after my parents. My parents had beautiful, lyrical names. Alma for a girl and Lorenzo for a boy. I could also name a boy after my grandfather, Mateo. Our Belnades baby would be an amazing magician just like their mama. And they will practice their magic by setting their papa’s hair on fire while he sleeps.”

Trevor gave a low chuckle and began gently stroking his wife’s swollen belly. “Honestly, I’ve been woken up in worse ways.”

Sypha reached up to comb her fingers through Trevor’s hair with a yawn.

“But no matter what the baby’s gender is or what they grow up to be, I know they’re going to be amazing.” Sypha said in a contented purr.

“Because they’re ours?” asked Trevor.

Sypha closed her eyes and continued smiling. “Because they’re ours.”

#netflix castlevania #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #trevor belmont/sypha belnades #trepha #fluff #penis spells #oc babies #oc ancestors

[sol1056]

wuxia: a general yet probably too verbose introduction to the genre, pt2

and now we get to the actual conventions -- although more accurately, these are just the ones that I either noticed the strongest or had the most difficulty adjusting to, when I was first getting into wuxia. 

Not all stories have these elements, and of course in a genre as varied (and as old) as wuxia, there are twenty exceptions for every rule. What’s more, one story’s mild admonishment (”well, X is frowned on, but I guess if you’re just low-key about it”) can become the next story’s worst taboo (”omg you did X, you must be shunned! SHUNNNNNNNNNNed.”). 

Like any other living genre, authors will shift/tilt convention as needed to drive a story’s conflicts. 

btw, it’ll probably be a few days before I can do an introduction to MDZS, which should give time to @guzhuangheaven, @atthewaterside, @dramatic-gwynne, @the50-person, @drunkensword (and anyone else) to point out everything I misunderstood, over-emphasized, misinterpreted, or just plain missed. 

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

1. Hierarchy still matters. A student’s respect for their teacher, a child’s respect for their parents, younger siblings/students to elder. You’ll see this in how people are called (ie 3rd uncle, elder sister, 2nd brother), but this doesn’t mean everyone goes around dutiful and obedient. Err, wuxia is actually more of the opposite. I mean, a good story requires conflict between characters, and what better way than someone overturning (or at least appearing to overturn) the hierarchy?

In that vein, creating new relationships that take precedent over old relationships is anywhere from disrespectful to a full-on violation of natural law. As in, learning from someone other than your teacher, joining a new family in lieu of your birth family, running away to get married -- hell, just running away! -- are all potential sources of trouble. At the same time, wuxia has a really strong comedic streak (all the martial arts also make for great slapstick). Squabbling families with headstrong, misbehaving kids who break the rules, well, that’s a classic that can be played for melodrama, comedy, or both.

2. Swordsmanship is the pinnacle (or the most prevalent) of martial arts. The protagonist is either going to be (or end up) the best swordsman (or swordswoman) ever, or they’re going to use a weapon that’s unlike any other -- and if the latter, they’ll either be reviled for it, or lauded.

3. Despite the fact that swords are heavy and a real pain to carry around, characters carry their swords. All the time. Everywhere. In historical dramas, swords hang from belts, but not wuxia. Plus, characters will place swords on the table, across their lap, lean them against chairs, put them on the floor, and it doesn’t seem to map to whether they’re among allies or enemies, on guard or relaxing. The sword goes with them everywhere, and is always within reach. (And again, this general convention can go strict in some stories, like MDZS, where the failure to carry a sword is seen as a major breach of etiquette.)

4. The general term for ‘members of a sect’ or ‘people who study martial arts’ is ‘cultivators’. To cultivate is to grow something: cultivating [internal or spiritual] fields to gain a [skillset] harvest. Cultivation isn’t just going to the practice hall and swinging a sword three hundred times; meditation, study, even copying out texts are also ways to cultivate. 

5. Wuxia characters may also be called swordsmen/swordswomen, wandering heroes, or martial heroes. If the story pivots on getting into a sect (or achieving some rank in a sect), then the characters will be considered cultivators (of a given path). If they’re introduced as just swordsmen, that seems to indicate it’s a story where sect politics plays less of a role. Or both terms may be present, to differentiate between sect-members/students versus people who defected (or are self-taught). 

6. Wuxia as a genre is remarkably egalitarian. Expect women martial artists to throw down with (and hold their own against) male opponents. Learn to fear the older women in wuxia; they’re often the most dangerous. Not to say there aren’t damsels in distress in wuxia, just that there are usually as many female warrior characters, too.

If the story has multiple sect leaders, usually at least one is a woman -- and if not, one of the men is married to a woman that everyone knows is the truly powerful/skilled one. Near-equal cast percentages are common, too, both in the foreground (and not always for the sake of pairing off for romance), and in the background, when you catch shots of the rank-and-file sect members.

Basically, you can expect the average wuxia to pass the Bechdel test with flying colors. It may not always pass all the other gender tests, but conversations (and deep friendships) between female characters are usually on-screen (not just implied), and often a strong part of the storyline.

7. The super-hero-like skills -- leaping from or to an extreme height, tossing someone a great distance, getting thrown far and getting up again -- are a good map to things like gunslingers who can shoot a playing card at eighty paces blindfolded. Or Robin Hood getting a bullseye through the arrows of someone else’s bullseyes. Wuxia tends to expect even superlative skills at a beginner’s level (so you’ll see student-characters doing such), but it’s all just ways to say, these characters have studied the sword while the rest of us were waiting for the translation team to release the next episode.

8. Those skills are not magic, which occupies a different category. Whether shown or implied, wuxia’s ‘martial arts’ (if exaggerated and unrealistic) are still studied. When magic shows up, it’s often derided, because it’s a shortcut. There’s an insincerity, a kind of bad sportsmanship. The reaction in-story is much like real world reaction to athletes using performance-enhancing drugs. It’s cheating, and it’s disrespectful towards your opponents, that you refused to match their efforts with equal effort of your own.

9. Every story has its own definition of what is, or is not, ‘magic’ and thus a shortcut. Wuxia is usually pretty good about making clear what the story considers ‘orthodox’ or ‘right’: look for characters introduced as authoritative voices in the story’s world, and what they do is probably a good indication of accepted skills (that is, not-magic). Well, unless the character cackles a lot, in which case they’re probably an example of magic/unorthodox approaches.

9. Qi -- energy -- is the root of a character’s power (or lack thereof). Plenty of wuxia only reference this concept in passing, but some codify it into a necessity -- as in, some people have the ‘right’ kind of qi, and some do not. Or that it takes years to develop so the hero is permanently behind until they finally get to doing the work. Whether nature or nuture, this qi is how a cultivator can leap high bounds while the background farmer or merchant characters must scramble to find a ladder.

10. Over the years of television, ‘manipulating qi’ -- shoving energy at someone through the hands/feet, a sword, a musical instrument, something else -- has developed its own set of stylized movements. It’s a lot of arm-waving and finger twirling and whatnot (often circular). I think of it like riding an invisible bike to charge the generator; releasing it means the TV has the juice to kick on. Or the tazer can release, or whatever.

11. There are a bunch of virtues being promoted by wuxia, from a tangle of daoism, buddhism, and confucianism -- things like loyalty, sincerity, honesty, humility, respecting one’s parents (or teacher), benevolence, and justice (or righteousness). Plus a disregard for wealth or glory for personal gain.

The good (or enduring) wuxia stories seem to be the ones that find a way to make a virtue into a point of conflict -- as in, loyalty to what/who, questions of what it means to be righteous in this circumstance or that, and so on. The virtue is still at the heart of things, the conflict lies in how it’s interpreted or applied.

12. Wuxia predates Confucianism and Buddhism (and possibly Daoism), so it’s got a long history of cherrypicking to mix and match as it pleases. Some things you might see, and the influencing source:

horsetail whisks, used for purifying a space and removing evil influences, traditionally carried by Daoist priests as a sign of their rank. 

an emphasis on Yin and Yang as driving opposing energies (sometimes good and bad, sometimes required to be balanced), also a Daoist concept.

most mystical elements are also Daoist influence: like qigong (coordinated posture and movement to increase/improve health, spiritual strength, and martial prowess), alchemy, astrology, etc.

mudras (hand gestures, cf Naruto) are predominantly Buddhist, meant as a way to focus oneself. When these show up in wuxia, the origin is still ‘to focus oneself’ but being wuxia, the result is usually a burst of visible power.

if a story revolves around learning to forgive/forget and to have compassion (over vengeance), that’s the Buddhist influence showing.

if filial piety, the observance of rites, or questions of ethics/morality are significant themes, that’s probably confucianism’s influence.

The lines are way blurrier than I’m going into, here. After all, the three perspectives have competed and coexisted for hundreds of years. There’s a fair bit of cross-contamination, as it were. 

13. A lot of wuxia -- and I mean a lot of wuxia -- can be boiled down to coming-of-age stories: a young hero faces trials and tribulations on his (or her) way to finding a place in society. Sometimes it’s working their way up through the levels to claim the top spot; sometimes it’s being rejected from the school they wanted, and continuing to fight that fate until they’re accepted and demonstrate they deserve to be there.

This focus on younger heroes also means that wuxia is rife with idol dramas, where the majority of the cast are young/first-time actors, chosen for their looks and their similarity to the character (so as to not require too much of a stretch for them, acting-wise). On the other hand, this does often mean the pretty is almost overwhelming, since it’s looks and not long-time acting experience that set the bar.

14. Compared to other Chinese literary genres, wuxia is somewhat unique in its emphasis on individualism, but this isn’t to say you should expect full-throated american-style rugged individualism. I’d say it’s less about the individual breaking free of social rules, and more that the individual must find a way to interpret those social rules and forge a compromise between what they’re required to be vs who they want to be.

The best illustration I can think of is a parental dictate of “I want you to marry and have a family,” that sets off the story’s conflict. By the end of the story, the now-adult child realizes the message wasn’t meant literally so much as a way to say, “I want you to grow up, have a place in this world, surrounded by people who love you.” The error wasn’t in the parents’ blindness to the child’s needs, but in the child’s interpretation of the parental message. 

(Unlike historical or modern dramas, which often have a lot of daddy issues -- thanks, Confucius -- wuxia is relatively free of that. Child-parent conflict is common, but truly dysfunctional on the level of modern melodramas, not quite so much.)

15. The fights are balletic and acrobatic; they’re meant as an abstract representation of a fight. You want reality, go watch an HK or Korean action movie/show. Wuxia is where you go for the twirling, the leaps, the spins, all the kinds of moves that no decent fighter would ever do, ‘cause turning your back on the enemy gets you killed -- but wuxia isn’t about that, it’s about the cool visual factor.

16. Historically and aesthetically, the costumes are closest to the Ming dynasty  -- layered and belted ankle-length robes with long, flowing sleeves. Partly because the Ming dynasty seems to be a favorite setting (for whatever quality of actual time period a story even bothers to identify), but also (at least, my theory is) because those big sleeves make for dramatic gestures when swinging a sword.

17. There are newer wuxia that show some Game of Thrones influence (or, in the movie adaptations like The Four, some grimdark-slash-steampunk influences) but for the most part, wuxia is rather brightly-lit. My theory is that it was traditionally designed to be visible on (literally) smaller TVs, out in rural villages and whatnot. Frex, the darkest things get in wuxia, visually, is a day-for-night blue, since filming at night for real makes for an awful dark screen. 

This is changing -- I’ve seen a lot more wuxia that are genuinely filming at night -- but the same show may also do day-for-night just cause they’re on a tight schedule and can’t sit around until it’s dark again to shoot the next scene, so they make do. 

18. Older filming styles still dominate in wuxia, and the one you may notice the most is a particular move where the speaking character turns away from whomever they’re talking to, walks towards the camera, and speaks in the direction of the camera. It’s just not something people normally do, but it happens all the time in wuxia.

I think it comes from the days of only having one camera, so either you took the time to reshoot to get reactions (not really possible on shoestring budgets with tight deadlines), or you made sure the frame could include the speaker and the listeners. (Or it might be coming from the stage, where the actor must face the audience to be heard.)

The basic blocking, lighting, and so on sometimes reminds me of afternoon soap operas from the 80s, done with videotape rather than film. Not cheap so much as lower budget. 

19. If you want historical authenticity, this is the last place to look. The costumes will be flashy, especially for the hero and his love interest: layered and embroidered, with modern fabrics in bright, sometimes neon!, shades and combinations (Nicholas Tse, I see you).

Older wuxia, the characters rarely got dirty, a wound from a fight was represented by a streak of clearly-fake (and somewhat diluted) pink syrup, and plenty of times a character will go through an entire battle and not even be sweaty or dirty. (Game of Thrones is changing this, too, though -- I’m seeing more dishevelment, though it’s still relatively minor compared to post-battle LotR or GoT.)

20. You can tell the budget from two things: how many costumes and how many wigs. A lower-budget wuxia (or one made at rapid pace) means characters go to bed in their day-clothes, with headpieces still on. Wigs are expensive, and a quickly-made wuxia means you get one wig, and that’s what you’re always wearing, rather than a wig for sleeping and another for waking. Same goes for showing characters in their day-clothes versus what they’d wear for night, or when relaxing, or whatever. (Or having two versions of the same costume, one pre-battle and one post-battle.)

21. About that historical bit -- at least up to the Qing dynasty, Chinese men usually wore their hair in a top-knot once they reached adulthood. Wuxia’s aesthetic is for everyone -- including elderly men -- wearing their hair mostly down with only a small top-knot to pull back their bangs. This just isn’t how anyone wore their hair, but it’s a massive visual clue that the story takes place in the jianghu, where normal society’s rules don’t apply.

22. I think I mentioned the Ming dynasty -- not sure why, but it seems to be the most favorite target. (You’d think it’d be the Qing, since they were outsiders, but nope.) The literary precursors of wuxia had a strong streak of ‘the government is corrupt and/or full of idiots, we’re better off doing our own thing over here,’ which led to various dynasties cracking down on wuxia as a kind of rebel literature.

It’s kind of ironic that wuxia’s history of overturning the natural order confucian principles (that is, treating individualism as an equal virtue, and elevating commoners to hero-status for *gasp* leaving their place of birth to wander around and do good deeds) is what made wuxia immensely popular during the cultural revolution, when China was busy deconstructing (often violently) so much of its cultural past. Wuxia stood apart, as something that had been quietly deconstructing all along, and thus shot up in popularity for finally being in tune with the zeitgeist.  

(Wuxia in all its forms has always, perhaps unsurprisingly, been massively popular among the common classes. Wuxia is not, never has been, a high literary form; watching wuxia means you’re watching the latest iteration of an ancient yet truly pop-as-in-popular-as-in-common culture.)

I get the impression the chinese authorities have an uneasier relationship with historical dramas (which can walk a fine line of implying that imperial past as a good/positive), whereas wuxia’s place in the mythical jianghu diminishes its ability to threaten via social commentary. This isn’t to say wuxia isn’t in dialogue with the social and political environment in which it’s made; all literature is, by virtue of being of its time. It’s just a bit more coy about it, and its loudest political-type trait -- of dismissing the imperial system/capital as corrupt, evil, or otherwise contemptible -- fits with a desire to see the dynastic past as something to be discarded and/or dismissed, not emulated.  

23. Oh, and one last thing: wuxia is very, very, very chaste. A lot of the romantic relationships are almost entirely implied -- a lot of longing looks, maybe the exchange of a significant gift, I mean, we’re talking a genre that considers holding hands to be pretty daring. I’ve seen entire series where you know those two will end up together, but if you can’t read the visual cues, you’d think they were just close friends (if not socially-awkward acquaintances).

That said, when wuxia breaks that so-chaste rule, it’s like having a table dropped on you. There’s a drunken makeout scene in The Legends that had my jaw on the table because holy smokes, that was unexpected. Mad passionate wild abandonment just isn’t a thing in wuxia.

[ETA: don’t get me wrong, wuxia in general is hugely passionate. Just not on a sexual level; it’s on the emotional level that wuxia will go to eleven, repeatedly.]

...okay, that wasn’t even in the neighborhood of brief. hell, it wasn’t even in the same state as brief, but I did warn you. Wuxia’s a huge genre, after all. An entire book might still only scratch the surface, but hopefully this suffices as a general introduction.

#wuxia #come for the brief essay stay for the dissertation #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 9

Crown of Thorns

Before they set off for Seireitei the next morning Ichigo hands a backpack to each of his friends.

‘Backpack’ isn’t the right word. It’s a sling bag that will strap across one shoulder each. Kukaku had been nice enough to provide him with them. They’ve got basic medicines, rations, a small flashlight and a bowie knife, a few other things that came in strangely useful in Ichigo’s experience. Like a roll of tinfoil, and a ball of rubber bands.

“Once we get into the seireitei, we’re gonna make a flashy entrance. People are going to see us and they’re going to report on what we look like. As soon as we land we need to find the laundry, or the barracks, and steal uniforms.”

He holds a hand up to keep Uryu from objecting.

“I know you hate it. Deal with it. Orihime and I will be the most distinct. Chad and Uryu can probably change clothes, maybe hair styles and be fine. She and I will have to change hair color.”

They won’t have time to dye their hair, and even if they did Ichigo knows they were both loath to do so. Orihime prided her hair for Sora, her brother. Ichigo was just plain stubborn.

“There’s wigs in both of our bags,” and in Ichigos, his Chaldeas combat uniform in all its white and black glory. It will cover the rather distinct mark on his chest. He turns to their guide.

“Yoruichi. There’s different squads, what do we need to know about them? Characteristics, duties, positions. Anything.”

The cat has been staring at him this entire time. Ichigo doesn’t quite know what to make of it. She shakes herself out of it.

“You’re right. Each squad has different duties and different specialities. There’s also rivalries between certain squads. Each squad has approximately 200 individuals.”

“That’s not good,” Ichigo grimaces. “200 is small enough to be able to recognize people by face if not name.”

“Yes, but the turnover rate for unseated officers is low enough I don’t think it will pose a problem,” Yoruichi continues. She gives them a run through of symbols and squads associated with them, before moving on, “the first division is made up of those who are able to take charge. They rank highest, besides seated officers. They will be the second worst to masquerade as. The absolute worst will be the second division, who work as covert operations. They handle wetwork.”

“Assassins,” Ichigo understands. “And spies?”

“Sometimes. That also falls to the Third division, which serves as a secondary source of information gathering and is in charge of media, communication, and, for lack of a better word, propaganda. Fourth division is medics and combat medics. The fifth has historically been an emergency response system, and are one of the most combat ready.”

Ichigo nods along. Orihime would be best suited to the forth then. Chad, perhaps the fifth?

“The sixth division runs internal affairs. Even if Rukia had not been their captain's sister, it would have been someone from the sixth sent to retrieve her. Seventh doesn’t have a particular speciality as far as I know, but they are typically sincere people. The eighths division is made up almost entirely of women, and they are the reservists and jacks of all trades. They work closely with the thirteenth. Rukia’s own division.”

“Are they mostly women as well?”

“No. They typically do the most work outside of the soul society, sending people to the living world and protecting people from hollows. Ninth division is also combat oriented. They are entrusted with the defense of the seireitei. They count the paperwork of all high ranking officers as well. The tenth is in charge of inter squad cooperation and joint task forces. The eleventh is full of heavy hitters and combat specialists. They are one of the largest divisions, and also the one with the highest mortality rate. Twelfth is research and development. We should avoid them as well.”

Ichigo taps his fingers along his leg. “Orihime should find something from the fourth. She’s the only one who can heal, and can probably pass her abilities off as a zanpakuto if needed. None of the rest of us could be in the eighth, and the thirteenth seems too close to each other to be fooled. I don’t know enough about science for the twelve.”

“I could probably pass, but I would rather not,” Uryu agrees.

“That’s fine. I think it’s best if I say I’m in the eleventh. I have the sword and the fighting ability too. Chad, I think you’d be best for ninth. And Uryu, sixth. We need to avoid one through three if we can.”

“Ichigo…”

Ichigo looks up at Chad. “Huh?”

“When did you start planning like this?”

Ichigo doesn’t know how to answer that. He learned on the battlefields of france. He learned in the streets of london. He learned on the decks of the Golden Hind, the plains of america, the mountains of the middle east and the deserts of egypt. They had been weaker, they had been lesser. They had heart and desperation, but they had to fight smarter not just harder. It was the only option. He had to learn or he had to die.

“Chaldea, I guess,” he finally says. “We need to be quick and careful. This is a rescue mission, not a war.”

Chad looks at him for a long moment. Finally, he nods.

“Okay.”

They break apart and come back together around the ball that Kukaku hands them. She looks at Ichigo intently.

“This energy needs to be balanced between all of you equally. Your power is insane. You’ll have to put barely any into it.”

“That’ll suck,” Ichigo says bluntly. “I’m not good at holding back.”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “No choice though. Let’s go.”

Before they can start, Ganju grabs his wrist. Ichigo keeps himself from elbowing him in the face.

“What?” Ichigo asks, turning to look at him.

“Why are you going through all of this for one shinigami? Why is she so special?” Ganju asks. For once he looks absolutely serious. Ichigo stands straighter and lifts his stubborn jaw.

“It’s because she saved my life. And my family’s lives. She gave her power to me, and because of that she’s going to die. I owe her,” he said again, “And I will repay that debt.”

Ganju searches his face for something. Whatever he finds must satisfy him. He lets go of Ichigo, but Ichigo grabs his arm before he can get far.

“Why are you coming along? It’s not like you have a stake in this. You’re not one of our friends. You’ve never even met any of us before this, and you clearly hate shinigami.”

Ganju looks ready to say something, but Kukaku shoves her way between them and cuts it off.

“Enough chit chat, let’s go already. You’re wasting daylight, idiot.”

Ichigo can’t argue with that. They circle the sphere and Ichigo lets only the barest of his reiryoku bleed into it.

He’s not oblivious. He knows the difference in his power and theirs is about where he and Mash had been when they’d first began. She was endowed with the power and skills of a great warrior of ages past and he was little more than an amateur mage who fought punks on the side.

Now he’s got his own power, his own sword, and he’s been trained by the best warriors to ever walk the earth. He’d learned at the knees of literal legends. He’d faced down gods and demons and he’d lead armies.

He had the power, he had the experience.

It’s time to go.

They climb into the canon, form the sphere, and the chant begins.

Kido isn’t so different from magic. The only difference is the type of energy that’s being used. Reiryoku and mana are the opposite of two coins, the body and the soul. The living and the dead.

Ichigo figures now he stands somewhere between the two. He doesn’t fully understand. He doesn’t need to.

All he needs to know is how to fight and win, for the sake of his friends.

*

Ichigo will admit, it’s somewhat terrifying how  big this goddamn continent is. They’ve been marching for what feels like forever. He knows that the northern army has been holding the celts back for at least a week. He doesn’t know how much longer they can last, and they themselves are still a good week from the white house.

The stress of the situation was still heavy on Ichigo’s shoulders, but Kyo was a good person to carry part of it. Mash is under just as much stress as he is, but she must be made of stronger stuff than he is.

She presses on with all the faith in the world that they will stand victorious when the dust settles.

Ichigo has less faith, and more bullheaded refusal to accept any other outcome.

Kyo, he can tell, doesn’t understand this.

They stand in a field of death. Celts lay at their feet, blood drips from Ichigo’s sword and stains his cheek. His orange hair is dyed red in places.

These are soldiers who were born only to fight. They were made to die at the behest of a wicked queen and an artificial king. They never knew childhood. They never knew joy or a future. They only knew the present, they only knew what they were made to do.

To fight. To kill. To die.

“This is wrong,” Ichigo says, his hands fisted at his side and his jaw set in stubborn anger. In one hand his sword weeps bloody tears into crushed flowers at his feet. A mansion sets in the background, once grand, and around them stretches the ruins of a garden. A headless cherub gushes brown water into a red basin.

Kyo reaches down and plucks the flower from its place on the ground.  Ichigo knows well he has the heart of a poet and the mind of a scholar.

“Orchids,” he says, showing Ichigo where the violet petals stretch through the violent stains.

“I doubt we can get perfume from them.” The stench of rot and death hasn’t set in just yet, but it will. Ichigo would rather not stick around.

“No, but they’re out of place here, don’t you think?” He must see the scowl on Ichigo’s face, for he goes on without prompting. “Orchids are a spring flower. One of the four gentlemen. They’re a rather old concept in art.”

“Old for you must mean ancient for us,” Ichigo tries to turn the subject, but Kyo merely shrugs.

“You humans live short, scared lives. And we, long and terrible ones. It’s the way things are…”

It’s there again. The look in Kyo’s eyes. The one he’d had when he was first telling Ichigo about Rukongai and seireitei, and the empty throne that sits atop the world. There’s a longing for change, Kyo is too stubborn and ambitious not to have it, but there’s something else holding him back.

Ichigo scowls and closes the distance between them in a single stride.

“You just sound defeatist. So it’s hard, so you’ll have to fight. So you just give up? Are you going to give in to the status quo when you return to Soul Society?” Ichigo demands. He grasps Kyo by the front of his shihakusho and drags him so close that their noses almost touch. Brown eyes meet brown, one set wide and the other narrowed. “Half the fight is always mental. If you talk like that, you’ll never win, and nothing will never change!”

Ichigo bites out his hardest truth. “A victor should talk about how the world should be. Not how the world is.”

Kyo opens and closes his mouth, gaping like a fish. Ichigo has never seen the man so wrong footed before. Even when Ichigo had shoved part of his soul into Kyo’s body, there hadn’t been time for him to be so stunned.

Now he gets to see those brown eyes shift. From shock to understanding to a near burning determination that his calm demeanor barely betray’s.

Ichigo is getting good at reading him.

He can see the blossoming dream inside his heart. Soon time will erase everything, but maybe, just maybe, some things will remain. Impressions, hopes. Dreams.

Kyo lifts the orchid up between them, purple and red in equal turns, and incinerates it with only a whispered spell.

* *

They’re forced to split apart upon entry.

It’s not ideal, nothing about the situation is. All the same, Ichigo deals with it.

He finds himself spat out into a street with no name and no distinction with Ganju, who lands in a pile of sand while Ichigo himself land catlike on his feet. Yoruichi still sits on his shoulder, steady and growing familiar. She isn’t Fou, but the presence is welcome all the same.

It takes all of ten minutes for someone to find them.

Typical.

Ichigo glances at Yoruichi on his shoulder. “Are you staying, or do you wanna step to the side?”

Yoruichi considers him with those wide golden eyes of hers. He always feels like she’s looking more than skin deep.

“I’ll be off to the side. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Give me some credit,” Ichigo rolls his eyes and bends down enough that Yoruichi can hop to the ground comfortably.

He tilts his head at Ganju. “Hey. I’ll take the stronger one. Do what you want with pretty boy.”

“Oh?” one of the opposing shinigami smiles and flutters his weird feather eyelashes at him. “You really think I’m pretty?”

It wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Ichigo grimaced at him. “You look like you spend twenty minutes in front of a mirror every morning. If you don’t exfoliate, I’m a hollow.”

“Well, Yumichika, looks like this guy has got you pegged!” the other one, a blond man who has his sword propped on a shoulder, grins at Ichigo. There’s red around the corners of his eyes. Make up? Tattoos?

“I’m not pegging anyone, thanks,” Ichigo says dryly.

The three dead people stare at him blankly.

“Huh?” pretty boy, Yumichika, asks.

Ichigo shook his head swiftly. “I’m not explaining that.” At least Yoruichi snorted at him.

“Well, doesn’t matter. All I need to know is that today…” the bald man started bouncing around on his toes with his sword out in front of him. Dancing? “I’m lucky! Lucky, it’s my lucky day!”

“Ichigo!” Ganju hisses, grabbing his shoulder. “I’m not fighting these guys, they’re way too strong! I’m gonna run.”

“What? No. If you run we might get split up! That’s a terrible plan, just hold him off until I finish my fight.”

“Hah?” Ganju scowls at him. “Since when are you the boss?!”

“Since I knocked your ass flat on the ground, that’s when!”

“I don’t care what you say,” Ganju scrambles out of the sand box he made. “I’m outta here!”

Ichigo watches him go sprinting before he looks to Yoruichi. “Oi. Keep an eye on him, would you?”

Yoruichi gives a long suffering sigh. “I suppose I must. He is Kukaku’s brother, after all.”

Without another word the cat trots off at Ganju’s heels, keeping pace easily.

Ichigo is left with the two locals.

“...Did that cat just… talk?” Yumichika points after the runaway, his perfectly trimmed brows furrowed.

“Ee-yup.”

“Yumichika,” the bald one nods to his companion, who grunts in response and takes off after Ganju. Ichigo has no choice but to let him go and trust Ganju to handle himself. He doesn’t know if he can take the both of these guys at once. They’re clearly close. He’s sure they’re a terribly effective tag team too, and he really doesn’t have time for this.

“Your friend. He could tell we’re stronger, and he ran. You would have been smart to do the same,” the bald man says, eying Ichigo speculatively.

Ichigo merely shrugs. It’s not in his nature to back down from a fight. It never has been, and now it is even less.

“I figure, if you are stronger you’ll catch up,” They aren’t, he can see clearly.  “I’ll have to fight you either way. Besides, if you’re not then I’ll just kick your ass now and move on.”

He shifts himself, draws his sword and bares his teeth.

The man laughs, sounding far too delighted. This is someone who revels in combat.

“That’s a pretty good reason,” he praises, drawing his sword from his scabbard. Ichigo blocks the blow that comes, and ducks the swipe of his sheath. Ichigo bounces back and comes against him again, a whirl of blade. He twists out of the way of another blow and smashes his elbow above the man's eye, splitting his brow. He barely moves back from the blade that slices through his own. Blood drips into his left eye, a mirror of the damage he’s inflicted. They separate.

It’s the bald man, his opponent, who brings them to a pause. The air isn’t as heavy as he would expect. This man may want him dead, but Ichigo can tell; he’s fighting for the fun of it.

(Ichigo loathes to admit it, but he is too. Rukia is going to die, Ganju is being chased by someone dangerous, and Ichigo is here having  fun )

(It makes him sick to realize that the life of one person weighs less heavily than all of human history.

Rukia is his friend, how can he think such a thing?)  

“That was good. You’ve got good reflexes. You’re stong. What’s your name?”

Ichigo doesn’t see a reason to pretend to be anyone he’s not.

“Ichigo,” he says easily. “And you are?”

“Ikkaku Madarame. Third seat of squad eleven. Ichigo huh? That’s a good name.”

“You think so?” Ichigo arches a brow, privately waiting for him to say something about strawberries.

“Yeah. They say guys with ‘ichi’ in their names are strong and forthright. So…”

He lifted his sword again, his scabbard in a reverse grip behind him and grins like mad. “What say we be friends, Ichi?”

Ichigo wishes Urahara were here, if only so he could crow an ‘i told you so’.

Ichigo levels his sword and can’t help the curve of his mouth. “Fine. But only if I win. If I lose. I figure I’ll be dead.”

“Deal!”

They come together again.

“You seem young,” says the chatterbox, Ikaku. “But you’ve adapted to my fighting style well.”

Well? What can he say, he’s met a lot of dual wielders. EMIYA, other EMIYA, Diarmuid saber, Diarmuid lancer, Scathach, Jack the Ripper, and more. He’s fought with them, trained under them. His hand still itches to hold a sword that isn’t there.

He settles it on his hilt instead.

“Who taught you to fight?” Ikaku asks. He wipes away the blood on his brow with an ointment. Ichigo makes mental note of it. For now he settles on keeping one eye closed, and waits for Ikaku to try to take advantage of his ‘weakness’.

“Who’s to say? I pick up what I can from everyone I know,” he says truthfully. “Are we gonna talk or fight?”

“Fight, obviously! Now,” he slams his sword and scabbard together. “Extend! Hozukimaru!”

Huh. A duel wielder and a lancer all in one. What an interesting person.

It doesn’t matter. Ichigo crosses the ground between them. He pours his power into his blade, until it shines pale white and blue. Ikkaku brings his halberd up to block, but Ichigo cuts through it like butter.

Zangetsu slices through Hozukimari like it’s not made of wood and steel and soul.

Zangetsu carves through Ikkaku’s chest and stomach. It’s not deep enough to kill, but the blood flows heavily. Ichigo finishes it with a hard elbow to his jaw, and Ikkaku falls to the ground.

Zangetsu returns to his resting place on Ichigo’s back and Ichigo gets to work. He has no intention of killing if he can help it. In this case, he can.

He uses part of Ikkaku’s own balm and his first aid kit, one of the things he’d packed in his bag, to seal the injuries. Ichigo hasn’t got time to wait around for Ikkaku to wake up, but this is a good chance for him to get information.

So he sits and changes his hair color, and watches the clouds roll by while Yoruichi plays cat and mouse with the pretty boy.

* * *

The whitehouse is a twisted vision.

Ichigo has seen pictures of his classmates on vacation in front of it, and pictures online or in books. He knows, at least vaguely, what it’s supposed to look like. It’s not supposed to be a twisted desecration of red thorns eating away at pale stone dragons.  

Ichigo eyes one of the macabre statues, wrapped in thick, strangling vines made of the same blood red bane that Gae Bolg is. So many thorns. Scathach had called them unbearable. Ichigo is caught somewhere between pity and anger at the berserker that’s caused so much pain and suffering. He was born for this, created from a wish and twisted by Medb’s black heart.

A pitiful creature to be sure. Ichigo knew Cu Chulainn well. He was a creature of duty and loyalty, of compassion and determination. Once he decided he wanted to protect someone that was the end of it. He would battle an entire army on his own, suffer uncountable pains, and still die with his pride intact. He had.

Ichigo doesn’t miss the way his own Caster eying the thorns, his red eyes dark. If Ichigo remembered right, he had died at the point of his own spear during Medb’s quest for vengeance against him.

Ichigo bumps his shoulder with him and gives him a questioning look.

“ ‘m fine,” he assured, touching Ichigo’s shoulder. “I sworn m’self to you, Master. Have faith in me.”

“Will my loyal dog not use my name?” Ichigo rolls his eyes. He still manages to get a cracked smile from the druid. Caster lifts his staff and settles his shoulders.

“After you.”

Ichigo leads the way inside.

It’s just them again. His core servants, and now Florence Nightingale. For a medic, she’s one of the scariest berserkers he’s ever seen. He’s not sure even heracles would win a fair fight with her when she’s determined to save someone.

Indeed, when they finally step into the interior, where Cu Alter and Medb are waiting for them, she wastes no time explaining that she’s going to cure them.

Although, Ichigo has never heard someone say that the best course of treatment would be  suicide .

He privately agreed with the king of savages. Nightingale is crazy.

That doesn’t mean she’s not wrong. Ichigo can see it plainly. Cu Alter, the king that Medb created, really has had his joy sealed away by his duty to destroy. There’s no pleasure in the fight for him, and for a warrior such as he it must be equal agony to the red thorns that pierce his hide.

Ichigo shift, Kyo at his side, while his band steps forwards in formation. Mash and Rama take the front, a strong defense and a strong offense that can switch easily to long range at a dimes turn. Cu Cullainn and Nightingale bring up the rear, supporting them with runes and healing spells, while Medusa stays staunchly at Ichigo’s side.

Her hair floats around her, a hissing halo that rattles with chains. Her scythe has manifested in her hands.

Ichigo lifts his right fist, the command spells burning in his skin. He only has two left, and three spells in his combat uniform. This will be their final fight. They have to win. They have to.

If they lose, they lose the world. Everyone’s suffering and sacrifice will be wasted. Yuzu and Karin, and even his dad will be lost forever. His mother will have never even been born.

“Go!” He shouts, his voice cracking through the air.

Rama aims at Medb while Mash tries to keep Cu Alter at bay. Ichigo’s Caster uses the distraction to start weaving runes into deadly traps, while Nightingale reverses the worse of the damage as she’s able.

It’s going well. They’re this close to overwhelming the duo when Medb does something that Ichigo will never be able to forgive.

She summons 28 demon god pillars to the northern army.

Cu Caster get’s in the final shot.

Gae Bolg still does not kill the wicked Queen of Connacht, but it’s master does deliver the last blow that sends her glittering into dust on the wind.

That one instant of victory, however, is all Alter needs.

Gae Bolg leaves his hands.

Ichigo knows the details of the Noble Phantasm. A spear that affects probably, and turns ‘trusting the spear’ into ‘piercing the heart’. Once it’s active, there is no dodging it. There is no blocking it with anything shy of a realty marble.

It does not pierce Rama again. Nor does is strike down Mash, or Nightingale, or Meduse, or even their own Cu Chulainn.

Ichigo chokes.

He doesn’t feel it, not really. But he sees it. He sees the red jutting out of his chest. The hole that has pierced through his heart. ]

He chokes. Blood drips from his lips, down onto the spear. Brambles crawl beneath his skin, spreading the hole until black gapes within the red. Blood pours down his chest, staining the white of his shirt.

Ichigo chokes. Black bleeds into his vision from all sides and his mouth tastes like blood and chalk and void dust.

White drips down his lips.

Darkness consumes him.

* * * *

“Alright,” Ichigo tugs his wig in place one more time, double checking that there’s no orange hair poking out to give him away. Ganju is next to him, tying the shihakusho in place with a grimace over his face.

“I hate this,” he grumbles. He secures his sword back in place. His armor is barely hidden under the sleeves of his new uniform.

“You didn’t have to come with us,” Ichigo pointed out.

Ganju scowled at him. “Yes I did.”

“Your sister didn’t tell you to-”

“It’s not about my sister!” Ganju snaps. Ichigo shuts his mouth at the look in his eyes. Burning with anger and grief.

“It’s about… my brother,” Ganju’s hands were shaking. “He was killed in cold blood by a shinigami. He was a genius, a lieutenant, and a good man. But he was betrayed and killed by his partner. I was young… So I don’t know everything. But I will never forget that shinigami’s cold eyes, when she dragged my dying brother back to our home. Or the way he  thanked her for it. I’ve never understood. But you.”

Ganju grabs him by the front of his shirt. “You’re different from other shinigami. So I followed you here, so I could understand. Why he loved the shinigami until he died. I want to see for myself what shinigami are like!”

Ichigo meets Ganju’s eyes squarely. “I’m not a real shinigami, so I can’t and won’t speak for them. I’ll let you see for yourself, Ganju. Just as long as you watch my back.”

Ganju gives him a short, single nod.

Yoruichi, who has spent the entire time standing in the corner while they ready themselves, flickers her tail and stands.

“We should get going. The longer this takes, the more danger we will be in. Everyone will be on high alert, and while this can help us blend in in the confusion, we still need to stay on our toes.”

Ichigo nods sharply.

They duck out of the barracks they’d stolen into and start down the pathway. Ikkaku had told him Rukia was in a white tower, and they could see it from here. The problem was that none of them knew the way to get to the white tower. They’re just wandering around blindly.

There’s nothing for it.

They walk on.

Ichigo looks around as they go. Some of the walls carry Lily of the Valley on them, stamped in careful black ink.

“Mary’s tears,” Ichigo muses, mostly to himself.

“Huh? No, they’re plants,” Ganju argues, looking at Ichigo like he’s just lost his mind.

Ichigo scowls at him. “I know that. They’re Lily of the Valley, but some people call them Mary’s Tears. There’s an old legend in the west in the living world that they grew from the tears Mary cried when her son was crucified.  They’re a sign that their messiah is coming back.”

“That’s very interesting,” comes a smooth (terribly, awfully,) familiar voice from behind them.

Ichigo feels his heart tighten. He turns.

Kyo stands behind them. Brown hair, brown eyes. He’s older now. His face is more angular, the last of his puppy fat has melted off his face, and he’s finally taller than Ichigo. His smile is polite and geniel. Ichigo is almost fooled. He can still see the sharp intellect behind them.

A white haori hangs off his shoulders. Kyo has been made a captain.

It’s all Ichigo can do not to reach for him and hiss out the truth.

But this isn’t the place. He cocks his head and frowns.

“I’m friends with Jeanne d’arc,” he says straight faced. Ganju at his side has gone tense and still. Ichigo elbows him. They’re more than a little suspicious out here like this. Two men and a cat.

Except, Yoruichi is now gone.

Two men and no cat.

“Is that so?” Kyo looks faintly amused, even as he assesses them sharply. It’s barely hidden in his deep eyes. Ichigo knows him well enough to see it, and to see something unexpected. A faint recognition. “It’s rare for someone in the eleventh division to be so knowledgeable.”

“How did you know…?” Ichigo is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kyo does not speak his name, he does not broach any subjects. It stings far worse than Ichigo had ever imagined. Hadn’t Nero felt something familiar about them too? But she hadn’t remembred them, and neither does Kyo.

“You were with third seat Madarame after he lost the fight with the Ryoka, weren’t you? The eleventh rarely tolerate people who aren’t in their own squad.” He had waited at Ikkaku’s side for field medics, with his own choppy work keeping the barely conscious man stable. It shouldn’t be a shock that someone saw them and spread the word. But how did Kyo recognize him from just that?

“Oh, right,” Ichigo says like that makes sense. In his mind he’s screaming.

  Kyo, kyo! Don’t you see me? Do you remember? We’re friends, we’re friends! We fought in america, we travelled the continent, look at me goddamn it. I know the name of your sword, I know where you were born. Kyo-  

“Excuse us,” Ganju grabs Ichigo by the back of the neck and forces him into a sharp bow. “We need to get going. Invasion and all that.”

“Yes, of course,” Kyo says smoothly. He gestures behind him. “I won’t keep you. We all must do our best to protect Seireitei.”

“Right…” Ichigo barely keeps his hands to himself.

He’d promised. He  promised .

His mouth opens to say something, to beg time between only them, to send Ganju away if he must. But down the street comes a pack of blood hungry shinigami, looking for a piece of the invaders, and Ichigo has no choice but to let Ganju drag him away by the collar of his shihakusho.

A woman with a badge on her arm appears at Kyo’s side as they’re being pulled away, her brown eyes wide and curious. Kyo draws her attention away and that’s the last Ichigo sees of him. It drives him insane.

* * * * *

He comes in the dark.

Silver hair and a white haori, he manages to go utterly unseen by all. It’s a skill even Sosuke Aizen has trouble mastering without the aid of his illusions. Gin’s footsteps are light, barely a whisper against the hardwood of the office building. Even the omniskido would be hard pressed to beat his skill with sneaking around.

It’s one of the things that Aizen prizes him for. The other being his unfailing loyalty and his willingness to do whatever he was told, with or without answered questions.

These things include going out to spy on the young would-be Ryoka. Everything is happening exactly as he’s expected. They’ve even brought the Shihoin heiress back to Soul Society with them. How useful.

“Well?” he asks, without further prompting. Most of his attention is still on one of the monitors in front of him that details the boy sitting outside the Shiba house. A camera fly can only get so close with Shihoin around, so he must settle for watching the human stare at stones in his hand like they’ve personally offended him.

The boy must be mad, to come with such a small group, but this is a while different type of crazy. Sosuke is fairly certain he’d seen the human-shinigami- possible -hollow speak to the rocks.

“He’s got good reflexes,” Gin says, peering over Sosuke’s shoulder. His presence is familiar and not unwelcome. Few get so close, even when Sosuke pretends to be gentle and kind. He keeps them all at arms length, the brown nosers and sycophants.

“I saw that much. You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

Gin smiles widely at him and lifts, from out of his pocket, the innocuous looking marble. It swirls with blacks and blue’s and glows faintly it’s own ethereal light. A faint red in the center bleeds purple into the blue. Incomplete as it is, it still reacts to interesting things and people.

Gin drops it in his hand. It’s warm to the touch, nearly burning. He’s never seen the red in the center flicker so bright before, like a tiny ball of fire in the very center. There’s something not quite right about this intruder. Ichigo Kurosaki. Sosuke has known him for many years, even if he’s never gotten close enough to see the boy in person. That would involve getting far to close to Urahara and Shihoin, and if he is honest even Sosuke is not foolish enough to go up against legendary assassins in their own home field.

“It tried to burn a hole in my pocket when I got within fifty feet,” Gin reports succinctly. “What does that mean?”

Sosuke has no idea what that means. But one of his rules of his own behavior is that he never admits to not knowing something. So rather than say as much to Gin, he offers him his own faint smile, the kind that puts other people at ease but sets his most faithful companion on edge.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he says instead. “Now. Are you ready to be the bad guy, Ichimaru?”

Gin’s smile, snakelike and cold, only grows. His eyes curve upwards.

“What other kinda guy would I be for you?”

* * * * * *

#bleach fanfiction #Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #kyo (SCoF) #sosuke aizen #gin ichimaru #yoruichi shihouin #Ikaku madarame

[k-keira-k]

Hate me , Hate me

Bangchan x fem reader

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word count 1.2k

Listen to: hate me (juice WRLD)- Ellie Goulding

——————————————————————————

Here I am at this stupid fucking party. I am no mood to be hear. I was only made to come as my boyfriend Chris thinks it’s a good idea to introduce me to all the staff and band mates he works with. This did sound nice idea a few weeks ago when me and Chris where in a good place in our lifes but recently we have been cracking under the stress of being in a committed long term relationship, some point in our relationship we have had to try and make long distance work, it was just getting a lot for us and we need to talk it out. Understandably talking about out minor problems was not Chris number one priority he’s a busy man. But I can’t help but feel like I hold no importance to him what so ever. So hear I am at this party trying to put on a smile for everyone and be polite and make a good first impression. But I am getting angrier by the second, Chris has not said a word to me all night I just feel like a souvenir he is showing off and not actually talking to me. As I am talking to a few staff members I take a quick glance across the room to see if I can spot him so I can ask him if we can leave. I catch him in the corner of my eye, he is talking to an important looking man and his band mate jisung. I strategically end my conversation with the staff member I was talking too and make my way over to my boyfriend.I sway my hips as I am rather feeling myself as the anger and desperation for attention is taking over.

“Oh Y/N perfect timing I wanted to introduce you to someone this is ____” he raps his arm round my waist .

My boded tenses.

Even this type of physical contact I have be denied of in the past couple of weeks, but he has no problem making our relationship look good in-front of this seemingly important man.

Jisung clocks the uncomfortable and impatient Ora and walk of probably to have a nice conversation and not one full of passive aggressiveness.

“So nice to meet you sir” I say holding my hand out squeezing it a bit too tight.

Not that I have a Specific problem towards this man it’s just that I am no mood for the encounter of another stranger.

I smile and turn to Chris

“Humm babe don’t you think it’s time we go?” I say raising my eyebrows and pulling away from his body.

“Nah it’s okay Y/N we can stay for a couple more hours” he says not even looking in my direction. But rather starting to strike up another Conversation with the people around them around him.

Oh fuck this.

I obnoxiously open my bag and pull out my phone.

Dialing the taxi rank number I hold it to my ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Who are you calling?”

Chris whips his head to you as he released that his co-workers attention was now on me.

You put your finger up to his lips and shush him. His eyes go wide in anger and he grabs your wrist.

“I am calling a taxi”

I say with a sarcastic smirk and rip away from his grasp.

My call is eventually answered by a women asking me my location for the taxi to Collect me. I say the address.

Chris who had yet to retract his glare

Mumbles.

“Hang up the phone”

I do nothing of the sorts.

“Hang up” he says again with equality amount of anger.

It’s his turn to know what it feels like to be ignored.

“Y/N hang up the fucking phone” at this point everyone has stepped back. And started to look

I let out a laugh as I finish up the conversation with the taxi caller as she lets me know that it will be at my location soon.

I hang up putting you phone away In my bag as I need both of my hands for the dramatic affect of the next

Sentence I am about to say.

“Who the fuck so you think you are telling me what to do?” I squint my eyes and lower my brows.

“I have taken time out my day to come hear and enjoy this one night with you and all you do is ignore me for hours and pay no attention to me” I say getting more frustrated

“what are you talking about? “ he says getting louder witch means In his terms he’s really annoyed.

“Fuck you Chris I am so over this bullshit excuse for a relationship” I say looking fed up.

“Fuck me ? FUCK ME?” He is full on yelling at this point.

“Y/N you the one constantly in a bad mood, waiting for me to make it all Better that’s not how this works” he continues his agreement by saying

“I do everything for you I buy you everything”

OHHHH THATS IT.

“WHAT YOU CALL BUYING ME MEANINGLESS SHIT ‘ a relationship’”

“WHAT THE FUCK ELSE DO YO WANT THESE DAYS” he’s says holding his arms out looking around the room everyone is in shock at the sight of us having a a screaming match in the middle of this party.

“Look at me, LOOK AT ME” I scream he laughs and looks at the floor

“For fuck sake Chris look at ME” his eyes finally meet mine

“I am your girlfriend not some trophy for you to show off and then Polish me off and put me back in my case , I am hear to support and love you but you are not letting me do that” I say this time I feel the waring sings of tears as a lump forms at the back of my throat.

“I fucking hate this.”

I feel the words impact before I say them “ I fucking hate you”

It almost feeling like we are Preforming in a pantomime where the crowed gasp.

Chris sucks in a sharp breath and says

“Fine tell me that you that you hate me, tell me that I am trash, and that you CAN ESALY FUCKING REPLACE ME”

“I CAN ! YOU WHERE NEVER ANYTHING to me. And I was never anything to you.” I say

“ good because I wish I never dated you in the first place” he says back

We both have lowered our voices.

“Well you did! , and your fucking broke me I hope you can find someone who cared for you as much as I did”

The room falls silent and just the sound of my phone going off letting me know my taxi has arrived fills the room.

Chris chest is rising and falling is Brows furrowed and fists clenched

I feel the words that we just spotted to each other hit like a tone of bricks then the tears start to spill.

I turn towards the exit.

Scruning up my eyes to attempt to stop the waterworks that’s about to form.

“Y/N if you leave now we are done” I hear his voice he sounds just as broken as I feel.

But all this pain could of been prevented if he just gave us time to talk.

So I leave.

#stray kids #bang chan #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #jisung #woojin #skz felix #jeongin #skz blurbs #skz scenarios #skz jisung #skz lee know #skz memes #skz hyunjin #skz smut #skz series #skz suggestive #skz seo changbin #skz seungmin #skz fanfic #skz han #skz gifs #skz drabbles #double knot #hanjisung #leefelix #leeminho #kimseungmin #kimwoojin

[pcygoldenchild]

𝑅𝐸𝒟 𝒮𝐼𝑅𝐸𝒩 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 9

🚨summary: You’re a dangerous woman in the mafia who gets a rather interesting relationship with 9 equally dangerous men who fall to your feet willing to please you.

🚨warnings: NSFW, violence, anal, cunnilingus/ fellatio, dirty talk, BDSM, sexual intercouse, gang bang, masturbation...(does not pertain to all parts)

𝐹𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 7𝓅𝓂

Everything was going so well. You were flourishing as a siren and seemed to get even more irresistible to the filthy scum in your cities. EXO have made you feel like the luckiest woman in the world for the past 3 months. They always seemed to know what you wanted, what you needed, before you even said anything. Life was good. No, life was great; a dream. And with most great things in life, things get fucked up. And you were really fucked up right now.

You just finished a case and thought it was was too easy. You’ve faced cases like this all the time; fake cases to set you up. But you were always faster at execution than they would be to try to hurt you. Only this time, that wasn’t the case. You were leaving the abandoned warehouse that you left the body of your victim at when you were ambushed. You really had no idea how that many people got into the building. It was secured for only you and your clean up guy to get into. But somehow 4 guys were able to get in and render you defenseless. You put up a good fight, killing one and breaking the arm of another but you were overpowered. That was 3 hours ago. Now you were tied up to some pole in another warehouse you are unaware of.

“So Red, or princess as EXO call you, what should we do with you?” a female voice said. You had a feeling you knew who kidnapped you. But to be sure you had to wait until they came out of the shadows and masks.

“You’ll have to be very careful. I’m all sore and what not from last nights events, if you know what I mean. Oh wait, you don’t.” you laugh. It didn’t matter that you were tied up, bleeding from your mouth and head and rather dehydrated. You weren’t one to break under anyone’s pressure, especially someone beneath you. She didn’t seem to like your answer and came forward and pistol whipped you for the 10th time this hour. Only now could you see who it was. Irene of Red Velvet.

“Brave little girl to be tied up like a slut. That’s what you are right? I hear that’s what my factory worker said right before you killed him. The thing is, I don’t see what the fuck you were doing being the one to kill him. And then I understood. You’re EXO’s whore! They made you do the dirty work and got you tied up in something you would rather not be involved in.” she said pacing back and forth in front of you. What she didn’t know was that you lived for this kind of excitement. This surge of adrenaline that shoots through your veins when danger is standing right in front of your face.

“I’m not dumb princess. I don’t put bullets between peoples eyes without know what I’m doing. I did it because he was a lowlife scum who put his filthy fucking mouth on me. And because your factory worker crossed my loves. He deserved what he got. And if you didn’t know, you’re beneath me. I have no reason to be even remotely afraid of you.” you barked out with a laugh. You weren’t afraid of anyone in this room. One thing you knew for a fact was that you were too valuable to kill. The most someone would do is torture you. And that wouldn’t end well for them, especially now that EXO have thier hold on you.

“It’s a shame really. Us women should really be sticking together. Instead you all have your panties in a bunch because you’ll never be me or have EXO. Instead of being your own people, you try your hardest to out rank me. You even went as far to try to steal my name ‘Red Velvet’. Sorry to say there is only one Red and I’m not fond of sharing. Not that they’d ever want you anyway.” you laugh. It was no secret that they were threatened by you in every way. Your rank, title, connections, looks and the one thing that sparked their need for vengeance, EXO. Speaking of the handsome devils....

“Looks like our dear boys are calling. Should I answer? Maybe I should give them some motivation.” Wendy says as she cuts down your shirt with a pocket knife. Your chest and stomach are exposed with nothing but your silk bra covering you.

“Hello EXO. What a pleasant surprise hearing from you. I hope you’re all doing well.” she chuckles dragging the blade over your skin.

“Where is she?” you hear Junmyeon say. You can already tell from his calming and demanding voice that he’s out for blood. You smile when you hear it which makes RV very unhappy. Wendy pushes the blade into your skin until a semi deep cut is present on your side. You wince and groan at the sudden pain, tears beginning to emerge.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Suho. I’m just having a nice conversation with my friend here.” she laughs as they watch blood seep through your fresh cut.

“Wendy, she has nothing to do with this. You have a problem, you come to us. Or were you too scared you’d end up like your partner? Or maybe you thought kidnapping our baby would give you all a chance with us? How dumb of you all.” Junmyeon retorts. His voice is more stern after hearing your groan indicating you were hurt. Wendy pushes the blade into your cut clenching her jaw; Jun clearly struck a nerve. You scream st this particularly sharp pain.

“Jun what the fuck? Don’t patronize her; she’s got a fucking blade to my side.” you say through gritted teeth. She continues pushing the blade into your skin making you scream again only this time you can hear the pain.

“Princess? So help me God, I’m going to fucking kill you all!” you hear Minseok say before the line goes dead. Wendy removed the blade from you making you groan. She then traces the blade lightly up your chest to your neck before making a small cut on your jaw.

“It’s a shame really. That you all have to die. I always wondered what it would be like to have them to myself. But if we can’t have them, no one can.” she laughs standing right infront of you, her face just barely touching yours.

“It is a shame that one of us has to die. But it won’t be me or EXO. You know why? Because they have me. And they’ll kill the devil himself before they let anything happen to me.” you say before spitting in her face. She laughs and licks around her lips before kissing you. You bite her lip hard drawing blood making her pull away. You were starting to go crazy; turning into your darker territory. You did not tolerate girls like them touching you nonetheless kissing you. You loathed women who didn’t stay in their place. Loathed women who didn’t know that you were the one and only. They could see it in your eyes and the way you had your signature wicked smirk on your face.

“Okay tiger calm down. I just wanted a taste. To see what all the hype is about.” she said backing away with her hands up in surrender. They left you alone in the cold dark room after that. You were bleeding quite a bit from your cut and if you weren’t out soon, you’d be in trouble.

»»————-　————-««

𝐹𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 7:30𝓅𝓂 𝒥𝓊𝓃𝓂𝓎𝑒𝑜𝓃 𝒫𝒪𝒱

“Why didn’t we see this coming? For fucks sake she was right here and now she’s in the hands of those jealous bitches. I’m going to rip them to sheds.” Baekhyun all but yells. Everyone is on the verge of killing just about anyone at this point.

“They’re...they’re hurting her. They’re fucking hurting our baby.” Sehun whispers out making everyone look at him. Sehun was always pretty quiet on missions. He was never one to show emotion or even speak until the next day. But this was different. This was our baby. And he was taking it pretty hard like the rest of us.

“Listen to me everyone. We should have seen this coming. Red Velvet have been far too quiet ever since we got involved with Red. It was only so long before they tried to get rid of her. And us letting her kill one of thier factory men the night of our dinner wasn’t smart. But we know what we have to do. And we’re not stopping until she is back with us and they are not a threat anymore or dead.” I had to make sure we all had our head on straight. We can’t risk anything right now. One mess up and our baby could be gone. We are not letting that happen.

“Do you remember the last time we were in this situation? We nearly killed ourselves out of blood thirst. We went on a rampage. I went on a rampage. This is our baby. This will be a disaster. I’ll kill everyone of them myself if I have to.” Chanyeol said. The last time we had to go hunting was when our first boss, Lee Soo Man, was taken. He was the man that made us become the men we are today. And when he was kidnapped, we killed over 100 people to get him back. Chanyeol, Jongin, Yixing and Baekhyun specifically had to be rehabilitated afterwards. It was a mess that still comes to bite us in the ass today. But he was right. This was different. This could flip the whole city if we don’t control ourselves.

“No, we have to be smart about this. Our priority is our princess. We know where she is and how to get her. We get in and get out. If and only if Red Velvet provoke us, we will do what’s necessary. They can be dumb but they can’t possibly be that dumb. This isn’t some drug trader. This is our love. This is the one person no one should try to hurt if they want to live.” I said. Listening to my own words, I was getting overly angry. I couldn’t be a leader to them and lie. I wanted to rip out those girls throats for even having my baby. For holding her and hurting her.

We pulled up to the warehouse where they all were. It wasn’t hard to find them. Between us and our Red, there were only 4 warehouses not owned by us. And Red Velvet owned one; this one. We all got out of the two cars and walked around the side. We have connections, Red has connections. In the mafia world, hearing Red is in danger really brings everyone on high alert, especially high ranks. We found her in less than 2 hours we heard she was missing and had a team of men surrounding the area. We broke into the side of the building and had our tech tell us the layout and where everyone was.

“Tech says Red Velvet are in the rec room right next to where Red is. She’s...she’s in a fucking freezer room.” Jongdae says anger laced in his every word. This was just getting worse and worse for those girls and I didn’t care anymore.

“Ok so we’ll split up. Minseok, Kyungsoo, Jongdae, and I will go get Red. The rest go deal with them. Do as you please.” I said. But I should have know that wouldn’t work.

“Fuck no Junmyeon. I’m going to get her!” Chanyeol shouted. Followed by the many other men who all wanted to get her, which was all of them.

“Ok fine. We’ll all go get her and then take care of them.” I say. There was no point in arguing about that. We all just needed to get her with us and arguing was waisting time.

We start to walk towards the freezer room located in the basement of the warehouse. There was a surprising lack of any guards on this floor which made no sense. You’re supposed to put guards around you then spread out, not spread out and void of you and your position. God, how did they manage to take my baby with such little knowledge? As we neared our destination we hear screaming. We hear our baby screaming. We all freeze. Our minds going rouge as we listened to her screams. Then there was silence. There were two men standing outside the door laughing, fucking laughing.

“Junmyeon I’m going to flip.” is all Baekhyun has to say for me to know what he meant. The look on all of their faces said exactly what we were all thinking. We were killing them all, a brutal death. Baekhyun and Chanyeol went up to the two men catching them off guard. With the barrels of their gun to their heads they made them kneel down. Baekhyun and Chanyeol were unstoppable when they were in a frenzy. We thought they’d both just shot them in the head but we were very wrong. They both looked at each other and smirked before snapping the necks of the two guards with ease. We’ve seen some fucked up things and done some pretty brutal things of course. But nothing compared to seeing them like this. They were terrifying and happy but looking from the outside in, I guess we all were.

We walked up to the freezer and stood outside the door. We were afraid of what we’d see. Why was it so quiet now? With a nod of my head we all pushed in. And there she was. There was our baby. She was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists tied by a rope. Her clothes were gone. Her sides had two deep cuts on them that poured her dried blood. Her face, her poor face, had a busted lip and cut on her jaw and cheek. Her eyes were red and tears ran down her delicate skin. Her head was bleeding with a gash on her temple. She looked so broken.

Next to her was a man. He had a blade to her stomach and his pants were down. He stoppped once he heard a gun click. He turned around and before he could say or do anything Jongin shot him directly between the eyes. If it wasn’t for the silencer, we’d be exposed but we were smarter than that. The man fell to the floor and we ran up to our baby. She didn’t seem conscious but knew it was us. She cried more and fell into our arms once Yixing cut her down. Jongdae quickly dressed her in the sweatpants and hoodie he brought while I held her in my arms. I held her lifeless shaking body in my arms and all I could think about was ripping those girls apart limb by limb. Until I heard her.

“Junmyeon..” she whispered with her hoarse little voice. My heart swelled as we all stilled like a deer caught in headlights. I quickly took her face in my hands and kissed her. I couldn’t help but cry as I felt her lips on mine.

“Shhh baby. I’ve got you. We’ve got you. And I’m not ever letting you go. Ever.” I try to say over my own tears but my heart was beating so fast. If we weren’t so lucky she could have been dead. We could have found her hanging here already gone. And the thought of that made me hold her tighter.

“Junmyeon...I can’t breath.” she whispers in my chest. I was suffocating her from how tight I was holding her. I let her go a bit and looked at her. She was smiling a little. Her beautiful face and beautiful eyes. She wiped my tears before kissing me again.

“I think you have business to finish.” she said to all of us. We all just looked at her. Did she really think we were going to leave her?

“We’re not leaving you.” Chanyeol said coming up to us and kissing her. He was shaking bad. His nerves and emotions malfunctioning with the sight we walked in on replaying in his head. He was on a rampage but had the one thing he needed most right in front of him. She caressed him, smiled at him, eased him like no one has ever been able to.

“Chanyeol we have to deal with what’s at hand here. I know baby. I know you don’t want to leave me. I know you all just want to make sure I’m ok, but that has to wait until the job is done.” she says. She was the one being tortured and yet she was the most level headed one, as always. She looked at me with pleading eyes and I of course fell to her request.

“She’s right. We have to deal with those bitches before anything. But baby we’re not leaving you here alone.” I say. We all wanted a piece of Red Velvet after seeing our baby like this, but we all also wanted to keep our baby with us.

“I’m gong with you. You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun. Those bitches did kidnap me.” she laughs as she tries to get up letting out a loud hiss and groan. Minseok and I quickly go to hold her up.

“You are too hurt baby. You’re bl-bleeding.” Minseok says with tears in his eyes once he sees the gash on her temple. She just smiles and kisses him. That seems to be her magic weapon for us to let her do what she wants.

“Minnie I’ve been in way worst shape than this. I’m fine and we need to go now. No more wasting time.” she demands and we follow. We’d follow her anywhere.

We walk out of the freezer room and stop outside of the room Red Velvet are in and something in Red changes right before our eyes.

»»————-　————-««

𝐹𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 8:30𝓅𝓂

You stood outside the door of the girls that tourtured you for the sake of you being better than them. And a sense of pride swept over you. You were at the top and loved by everyone and hated by more. You let out a laugh as you stood facing the door.

“Baby?” Yixing asks. You look back at all of them and see them staring at you confused. They must have thought you were hit in the head. Why would you be laughing right now? But Junmyeon understood.

“She’s back.” he said while smiling at you. You went over to him and kissed him before taking the spare gun he hid in his pants. Just incase you needed it if they tried anything.

You turned to go back in front of the door. You fixed your clothes and fluffed your hair before entering the room. And boy were they surprised to see you and EXO standing in front of them. They all jumped up from their seats around a table and walked to the far end. You walked to the front of the table while the boys stayed behind, they knew a show was at hand.

“Hello ladies. Bet you thought you saw the last of me.” you smirk taking a shot of what turned out to be whiskey from the table.

“No, it was only an amount of time before they came and saved their little princess.” Irene said. You admired her fearless attitude.

“And you still somehow thought it was a good idea to kidnap me. You signed your own death certificate.” you said laughing. How could they be so dumb? Something had to be going on that you just didn’t know of. If not, it was a very poorly planned kidnapping.

“Junmyeon...wouldn’t you rather have this?” Joy said coming forward and removing her coat. Underneath she wore a dainty set of red lingerie. You had to admit she looked good, but she wasn’t you.

“I actually only like the color red on my baby. It compliments her skin like no other. But looks nice. Where’d you get it? I’d like to buy her a pair to wear around the house.” he teased. You weren’t looking at them but you could just see the smirks on all thier faces. One thing no one could do better than you, around the billion other things, was wear red. It’s like the color was made for you.

“I think you look great Joy. You were actually always my favorite, so quiet and cute. Maybe if you didn’t go for something you couldn’t have and didn’t kidnap me, we could have been friends. But they are mine. This title is mine. This life is mine.” you say slightly angry all of a sudden. You were tired of people not respecting you and thinking they could just walk all over you. You saw Seulgi move a bit like she was reaching for something and you reacted as such. You pulled the gun from behind you and shot her in the leg making her fall. They all screamed and went to hold her. Cute.

“Oops.” you said laughing. You could hear the boys laughing behind you and it made your heart swell.

“Now how do you all want this to go? I’m done talking to you.” you say coming closer to them. You were angry enough to pull their heads off but you knew the boys wanted some involvement. You looked back at them and suddenly had an idea. You smirked and they started to walk forward. It’s like they read your mind. They grabbed five chairs and lined them up in the freezer room. Red Velvet were brought into the room and the boys began tying them up.

“It was really uncomfortable in here. And you’re not naked or hanging from your wrists while this fucker played with you like a toy. Thank good karma that you’re not all in the same position you put me in.” you snap out at them kicking the dead man before them. It was cold and pretty soon he’d start to smell. They’d be in here for a while before anyone came to look for them because, well they had a terrible team.

“Why don’t you just kill us? Maybe you do love us after all.” Yeri says smiling at Jongdae who was tying her ankles to the chair. He laughed and got up and walked to you wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“This is who I love. This is who we all love. And this is where you kept her to freeze and be touched by some deranged animal. So this is where you’ll die. Princesses orders.” he says before kissing your neck. You couldn’t help but smile at how angry they were seeing you be the center of your boys attention.

“Trust me, we would love to cut this short. But you deserve to suffer. And she’s letting you ride out your death wish. And what the princess wants, the princess gets. And in the case you do get out of here, which is highly unlikely, you’d know to stay far away, won’t you?” Sehun said. He was never this scary around you. He was always Sehun, your big baby. Unless he was fucking you or in this position. And it turned you on a little too much. He caught you biting your lip staring at him and walked over to you to give you a kiss. He pulled away once he heard one of the girls let out an angry scoff. He slapped your ass and walked back to them with Chanyeol. He signaled you over and handed you a pocket knife. The girls eyes practically fell out of their sockets.

“When I was under my first boss, I had to do knife training. He told me it’s important to know how to properly remove a mans penis so he feels the most pain. I asked him what I’d do for a girl and you know what he told me? He said to cut off thier nipples in a cold space. I thought, wow he’s right; a real genius. But I never got the chance to. But now...” you said waving the knife around. They were all squirming around trying thier pathetic escapes from the ropes. You brought the knife up to Irene’s face and kissed her forehead.

“Which ones first leader Irene?” you ask cutting her on her jaw similar to yours. She doesn’t hesitate to say Seulgi never breaking eye contact with you. You smile at how easily she turned on her own sister. But nonetheless, the leader has spoken. You walk over to Seulgi who was already in enough pain from the shot earlier.

“Sorry about that but you were reaching for your little pistol and I couldn’t risk it. Although you should have just went to shoot one of them since they really don’t care for you. Now stay still. This will hurt.” you say sitting on her lap. You rip her shirt open and pull down the left cup of her bra exposing her cold nipple. You lick your fingers and pinch it a bit and laugh.

“Such a waste, these are so nice.” you say before you cut it off in one smooth move. You were a pro at this and it didn’t take much. She screamed out at the flesh now cut off of her skin. You throw the nipple somewhere behind you and place the knife on her sternum.

“The most important part here is to sign your work of art.” you say. You carve a ‘R’ in her sternum and smile at your work. You get up and take a step back to look at all of them. The guys looked absolutely amazed. They were letting you do as you pleased because even as dangerous men, they just didn’t feel right torturing women. They’d just put a bullet through their heads or leave them here to freeze. You did the same to the rest of them and called it a good punishment. If they made it out alive, they’d be without a nipple and reminded of who did it with the permanent R on their chest. A real beauty.

“Wow princess. This is almost as good as us doing it ourselves. A real Red Siren masterpiece. Should we gag them?” Chanyeol said wiping your hands of thier blood.

“No daddy it’s fine. No one will hear them anyway once the door is closed.” you say grabbing his and Sehun’s hands. You were tired of being there and just wanted to get home and cleaned up.

“Can we go now? I have cuts that need taking care of and I really want you all to hold me.” you pout with puppy dog eyes. You didn’t need to pout because they were literally always willing to take care of you. But the smiles on their faces at you being a pouty baby was worth it. Junmyeon picked you up and carried you with your legs wrapped around his waist out of the building. You noticed once Yixing closed the door, he turned to temperature down a lot. They’d be popsicles come morning time. Yum.

“You let them off pretty easy princess.” Jongin said as you sat next to him in the back seat. He was right but you had your reasons.

“I have nothing to prove. You all came for me and saved me like I knew you would. You’re all mine and I don’t care if they die or live, they know who your hearts belong to.” you say playing with his hands. You were not threatened by them. You were completely happy with having people jealous of you. It meant you were doing something right and you had quiet a bit of jealous enemies. And now you’d have 5 less if they didn’t get out of their very own freezer. What a shame.

#exo #exo smut #exo fanfic #kyungsoo smut #sehun smut #baekhyun smut #chanyeol smut #jongin smut #mafia au #minseok smut #jongdae smut #yixing smut #pcygoldenchild #Red Siren #exo scenario

[magaprima]

Part 2 Episode 1 Thoughts (Part 4 of 4)

“If demons are hunting you with any regularity, perhaps you should transfer back to Baxter High”

When Hilda asked Lilith to encourage, she was very disinclined, but seeing that a demon, and a major one at that, was willing to defy all rules and kill her, concern for Sabrina’s welfare is coming into play. Now, at this point, it’s not genuine concern (as it does become later on in the season), but entirely out of the concern that if Sabrina is killed, Lilith is the one who will be made to pay the price. Their survival and protection is intrinsically linked via the Dark Lord. 

“It would...please your Aunt Hilda and..I could keep an eye on you”

I love how Lilith uses reassurances rather than arguments to convince Sabrina to come to back to Baxter High. She already knows telling Sabrina she must do something, that she can’t protect herself and do things by herself, will just make her dig her heels in, so she’s using emotional connections; her Aunt Hilda is all worried about her and her favourite teacher wants to look after her.

Also notice the box to the side of Sabrina; it is a cardboard box filled with all of Hawthorne’s things. Lilith has literally dumped them in a box and isn’t even bothering to hide it, and the fact no one is questioning the man left without any of his stuff, shows how heavily disliked he was. People, most especially women, are too relieved he’s gone to question how and why. 

When we begin talking about Sabrina’s issues at the Academy, Lilith seems to switch from manipulative talk to genuine conversation, genuine interest, revealing some of those early stages of the attachment she is inevitably (considering their similarities and the amount of time spent together) developing towards Sabrina. And Lilith doesn’t even take a second to correctly guess how people are viewing Sabrina’s bid to be Top Boy. 

“Oh, I see, and erm, stab in the dark, the warlocks, aren’t too keen on the idea of a female Top Boy are they?”

This is a story Lilith knows well and knows personally. Her very first conflict, very first experiences, were her saying she was equal to men, that she was entitled to the same role as men, and she’s spending thousands of years trying to prove to everyone, not just Lucifer, that she is deserving and worthy of being Queen of Hell. 

“Well, with a name like that, I can only imagine he’s trouble”

Well, needless to say, from this comment alone, Lucifer has not shared with Lilith that he’s told a warlock to get close to Sabrina. This is clearly the first time Lilith is hearing about Nick, but the fact she gauges from his name-- both of which are names consistently associated with the devil in Christian mythology- that he’s going to be trouble reveals a lot of how she views Lucifer, even before she has admitted it out loud to herself. 

Lilith looks genuinely and really amused when Sabrina tries to dismiss the idea of Nick being the one behind everything and dismissing her attraction to him. We’re seeing more of Lilith’s genuine interest in Sabrina’s welfare etc, the attachment is there, even if it’s only minorly showing itself and even if Lilith is in complete denial of it, but the way she engages with Sabrina here, her interest, teasing about a new boy in her life the way a Mother might tease a daughter is extremely revealing about what Lilith’s role is truly becoming towards her (the fact in the finale Lilith literally takes Sabrina’s birth father’s place in hell kinda seals the metaphor). Even the language she uses, the words she chooses, are very much maternal. 

“Oh, Sabrina, Sabrina, Sabrina. Is someone having a rebound crush? Is some handsome, young warlock clouding your judgement?”

It’s all very familiar, affectionate, caring, and it all comes too naturally and easily for it to be entirely down to manipulation. The bond is already there between them, whether Lilith likes it or not. Even the way she refers to Nick as ‘this provocatively named’ is another maternal thing, like a Mother immediately pointing out the issues with a potential boyfriend, warning against having interest of the boy with the motorbike (metaphorically speaking).

But when Sabrina says Nick is a conjurer and both of them realise this means Nick could very well be the one summoning the demons to attack her, Lilith’s expression is so resigned and unsurprised like ‘well there we go, it took a man exactly 2 seconds to disappoint and betray. How shocking’. 

The heavy sigh when Sabrina leaves, and Lilith is sat alone, is so freaking exhausting. Like this is a woman whose job is literally never done. She is always cleaning up something, sorting out something, fixing something, and getting no reward, no credit, and this is just another item to add to the list. She’s basically like Bob in The Incredibles when he’s like ‘I feel like the maid! I just cleaned up this world, can the world not stay saved for five minutes?’

And then we come to Lilith getting read to summon Satan. The woman doesn’t feel she can just summon him, that she can just cast a spell and have a chat; she has to get ready. She dresses herself nicely, she styles her hair, she applies lipstick; like the very last thing she does before casting the spell, is her make-up. She then messes with her hair, pulling her forward, she is obviously trying to make herself look as sexually attractive as possible. Now, remember this is not how Lilith originally looked. It may be her body now, through that flesh-copy spell she cast in the first episode, but for thousands of years she’s always looked like she did when Lucifer first met her, which among many things, looked a lot younger than her new form, and Lucifer is prideful, vain, arrogant, and no doubt Lilith is more than aware how much image and appearance matter to him. 

She has been playing this role of Ms Wardwell for absolutely months and months now, constantly, 24/7 and perhaps is even starting to feel sometimes that she is losing herself in the role, that she can’t see her original self in the mirror anymore. And what if Lucifer can’t see it either? What if he looks at her and all he sees is the ‘spinster school marm’ (to quote Zelda)? Lilith is, after all, very much aware of how easily men dismiss women due to looks and age, and Lucifer is a fallen angel, yes, but he’s also a man. So she tries to make herself look as much like her old self, even in this new form. She wants him to see her and still want her, and that, considering his treatment of her, and how worthy Lilith is in her own right, so tragically revealing of the existence she has been suffering through for so long. 

She looks at herself in the mirror like she’s getting ready for battle. She swallows, nods at herself, and is clearly tense as hell about the idea of summoning him. But she does it, because Lilith has never let fear stop her before, not when things need to be done. But we are very aware that this is a far from easy task, on so many levels. 

And then when we see her sat in the chair, working on the talisman, we see how she has styled herself; her hair, her makeup, her dress, all of it is more reminiscent of her old self rather than her ‘Ms Wardwell’ self. She has a very youthful style here, proving that she is trying to ensure Lucifer sees through her new appearance to her true self, the way she has been looking past his twisted form to remember his true self (It’s interesting to note that they’re both trapped in forms that aren’t their own, but the only difference is, it simply happened to him, a cause and effect, but Lilith was convinced to do this at Lucifer’s request, for the sake of getting Sabrina to join their ranks). 

“Forgive me impudence in summoning you”

She is quick to apologise, to assure him that even though she has commanded him here (and so proving that despite everything he says, she does have the power to do that. She is extremely powerful, enough to control him, even if only for a time; which obviously happens to a greater extent in the finale, when she fools him with a glamour and grabs him by the throat) as a way to stop him from being too angry, to remind him she knows that he is charge.

She avoids his eye so much though, even as she makes her challenges, She only glances at him briefly, as if afraid too much eye contact would make him lash out. It’s only when she finally gets to the point about Sabrina, and her suspicions about his secrecy, perhaps even betrayal, that she finally looks directly at him as she says ‘than you’ve led me to believe’. And we finally get the very first glimpse of the rebellion to come. 

#episode stuff

[goddamnitconnor-a]

I’d mentioned something about this a little bit ago, but there’s been something on my mind for a while, now, and I want to finally write something down. This is mostly because I was asked on the sidelines if I could make a post like this-- so here goes.

I’ll put most of this under a cut so anyone not interested can just scroll by without too much fuss, but first I’d like to say what this is all about.

Anxiety. Or, rather, how to not let it consume your life. Because we all experience it, most of us on a daily basis, but I’ve seen so few people actually do the right things to stop it from escalating to a critical point or try to do anything to manage it when they’re not in a critical mode. So, the rest of this will be cut for sake of length, but please:

If you have struggles with anxiety and recognize that it’s holding you back from enjoying any part of your life to the fullest extent, give the rest of this post a look over. These are honest, tried and true methods of reducing the impact of anxiety, both the obvious and less obvious, and I promise I wouldn’t offer them as suggestions unless I knew they’d have a beneficial impact on your overall health.

I’ll say this one last thing: if you’re thinking anything along the lines of ‘none of this will work for me’ or ‘my anxiety is too bad to do anything about without medication’ or ‘I’ve tried everything before and nothing really works so why bother’, then I’m speaking directly to you: please read the rest of this post. I don’t say it often, but you are so wrong.

Firstly, before I begin spewing out suggestions, everything I talk about here I have seen take a positive effect on both myself (dealing with bipolar depression and I’m sure other shit by this point) and people with severe intellectual disabilities (autism being the primary diagnosis), whom I support and work very closely with. I’ve also taken two college courses focused entirely on managing anxiety through very different strategies (mental vs physical activities) and a handful of others on building mindfulness, confidence, and self-image. Honestly, though, I’m drawing mostly from the former experiences because there’s nothing like seeing the words in action.

These techniques will be listed here only briefly because talking about each of them at length would make this an entire book. I might go into more detail in additional posts, if enough people would like me to or I’m feeling especially talkative another day. They are listed roughly in the order of most effective or most necessary, but honestly they all work in tandem with each other, so saying one is better than the other is a little misleading.

Attitude: We’ve all got it. Some are better than others, and some are just downright-- wait. Not that kind of attitude. I’m talking about our attitude towards our own mental health. I’m sure a lot of people believe they’re just supposed to suffer as much as they do or that it’s not really so bad and changing is too much effort. Essentially, the message is saying ‘I don’t care enough about myself to make the effort for my mental health’ no matter how you say it. Point blank, that’s a pretty shitty attitude to have, and no one wants to have a shitty attitude. No one likes feeling like shit, we just kind of get used to it and grow numb to it out of self defense against our own brains. Not the best habit to pick up. But one thing is certain: if you don’t believe you can help yourself and if you don’t believe you’re worth the effort, then nothing else is going to leave much of a mark. It all starts here, friends, and it’s usually the hardest step to take.

Deep breathing: Has to be next, doesn’t it? And it’s a very easy next step after that last one. The rules are very simple: block yourself off from outside stimuli (whether this means closing your eyes or fixating on a fixed spot in the distance to focus your attention or doing whatever you need to in order to take a minute to yourself); take a deep breath in through your nose for at least five but ideally seven seconds (breathe in so your stomach expands and not just your chest-- your shoulders shouldn’t rise more than they do when you’re yawning or sighing); hold the breath for up to three seconds; release your breath through your mouth slowly (take at least three but ideally five seconds) and make sure to fully push all of the air from your lungs. Repeat at least three times and up to ten times, depending on how high your stress and anxiety are at the time. The idea of the numbers is equal parts providing a structure so that the breath is under your control and providing a distraction from any other thoughts that might intrude. If you’re focusing entirely on counting the seconds of your breath or focusing on how the breath feels going in and out of your lungs, then you’re much less likely to worry about anything else. So don’t get too hung up on the specific numbers; understand their purpose and adjust them as you need to in order to fit your current situation. Do this before you go into a full-blown panic attack. It’s much more difficult to focus on deep breathing when you’re in panic mode, but taking a few deep breaths when you feel the first signs of something coming on could lessen or negate the physical and mental strain. Remember: It takes less than three minutes, even if you do all ten breaths, and there’s no equipment or special requirements. That makes this by far the easiest thing on this list to do, and the effects it can have are fucking mind-blowing.

Diet: Okay, maybe this will be the hardest step. But it doesn’t have to be! Diet changes can be huge, cold-turkey everything bad or small, subtle changes that ease you into a better lifestyle over the course of a few months or even a year. Both are totally cool! In fact, I’ve done both. There is so much I have to say about dieting, but I’ll list out the major points. Stop counting. I don’t care what it is, just stop counting it. Right now. Because guess what: you’re not counting the right things. Things you should be looking at? Sugar content. How processed the food is. Artificial flavoring and high fructose corn syrup. Things that really aren’t that important if you’re organizing your diet to be balanced and actually healthy? Fat content. Calories. What a coincidence. Also, eat breakfast. I know it means getting out of bed a little earlier, but for all that is good in this world, eat breakfast. Snack more often (not on potato chips; try some fruit), especially in the morning when your body is trying to balance out everything from the previous night (or, you know, whenever you sleep). Fruit, vegetables, nuts, protein bars (check that sugar content!), hard-boiled eggs, cottage cheese, and yogurt are all super easy and cheap snacks to grab and most of them are portable if you’re out and about often. Lunch doesn’t need to be big, but it needs to exist on some level. Heavy lunches will weigh you down and make you tired much earlier than you would be otherwise but no lunch will sap your energy and also leave you feeling drained earlier in the day. Dinner should be focused on protein and this is usually where people actually eat their vegetables, so keep that up! If you’re going to have a lot of empty carbs (like fries, mashed potatoes, rice, etc.), you better plan on having a post-dinner workout because guess where that belly fat is coming from. If you have anything to eat before bed, make sure it’s at least an hour before and it should have as little sugar and calorie content as possible. Protein is ideal for this time of the day!

Exercise: Oh boy. All of these steps are sounding pretty hard, aren’t they? Good news! You don’t have to go to the gym. You don’t even have to go outside. And I’m not about to preach youtube workout videos and giant squishy balls to roll around on. I am about to preach yoga. I know we only ever see super attractive and skinny women perching themselves in ridiculous poses on a fucking mountaintop at sunrise with some inspirational quote plastered everywhere and that’s what we think when we hear yoga, but you know what? I’ve taken yoga courses, and the only one even half-capable of flipping herself upside down on her head was our instructor-- because she’s been doing it forever. Most people had to use blocks and bands to assist them with most of the poses. Yoga is not for the fit and bendy only; in fact, the less fit and bendy you are, the more you’ll probably benefit from the practice. A few simple stretches in the morning isn’t going to change your life, but it’s a start. There are plenty of free videos and apps around to help you get started with easy things that will make the rest of your day a little easier, and I guarantee you’ll start feeling so much better that you’ll get addicted to it. If you happen to already be a reasonably active person, then just make sure you’re getting at least 30 minutes of at least moderate activity in order to get the most benefit out of your workout. The most beneficial time to do any exercise is first thing in the morning after you wake up, but right before meals or mid-day when you might be feeling a bit of a drag are also ideal times. Anything above low-intensity exercise before you go to bed will definitely hurt your sleep cycle, but there are some yoga poses and other kinds of exercise that are actually very beneficial to relaxing and getting a better night’s sleep.

Meditation: This should be higher on the list, but again the list really isn’t a ranked thing. I’m only putting it this far down because I believe that meditation doesn’t always stick out to people as something especially helpful. That’s because meditation doesn’t show instant results and a lot of people do it very wrong, so they don’t get any results at all. Because of this, I think if the above techniques are implemented then meditation will become more attractive because some control and balance in your life will have already been established with the other things. I would recommend starting with guided meditation no matter what, if you’ve never done it before or even if you think you’ve been doing it ineffectively. Meditation is very flexible, which is one of the things I love most about it. Once you understand the real purpose of meditating and how to handle any potential distractions while you’re meditating, you can do it almost anywhere and at any time-- and you can spend five minutes with yourself or two hours. Any amount of quiet and calm for your mind will help it immensely! Also, if you’re feeling drained and are unable to do any stretches or exercises to wake yourself up, meditation can actually make you more alert and refreshed. This is especially helpful for people trying to focus on a task that needs to be accomplished but that attention span just isn’t cutting it. Meditation should center you, calm your mind, boost your focus, and clear your head of distracting thoughts and worries unrelated to the task at hand. Stress and anxiety should reduce and if you go into a deep enough trance, a sense of euphoria (similar to that infamous ‘runner’s high’) will accompany you for a while afterwards. If it’s not doing that for you, then you should probably seek out some sort of guide to help you meditate more effectively.  

Water: Just drink it. I won’t say that you can’t drink too much, because of course you can, but chances are high you aren’t drinking as much as you should be. It depends a lot on your activity levels, what you’re eating throughout the day, and your exposure to the sun or other high heat elements, but a few signs that you’re not drinking enough water are: if you get frequent headaches, especially near the top/crown of your head; if you get muscle cramps-- they can be anywhere, but leg cramps are very common and I experience stomach cramps easily when I’m dehydrated; if you’re thirsty (simple as that); if you find yourself yawning/breathing deeply excessively. Drinking water first thing in the morning will help you wake up and cold water before meals will reduce your appetite so you don’t overeat. 

There is so much more I could say about anxiety and so many other, little things that can be done to make things easier on yourself, but these are the really big ones. The ones that I guarantee, if practiced together even on a minimal level, will improve your health both physically and mentally to the extent that you’ll never believe you lived so miserably for so long without doing these simple things. Because here’s the hard news: We weren’t meant to sit in a dark room in front of a computer screen all day. We weren’t meant to play video games for 12 hours a day. We weren’t built to digest the obnoxious amount of empty carbs and overload of sugar that is basically forced in our face every time we turn around. Our bodies are meant to work and they’re meant to be maintained-- and if you feel like that statement doesn’t apply to you, you probably don’t understand your body as well as you think you do. I’m not saying I know anyone’s specific situation and of course there are always outrageous exceptions to even the most reliable of rules, but for the majority of people reading this, the only real block against you and a healthier you is just plainly you. That’s not an easy thing to accept or make peace with, but the sooner we realize that we most often are the only ones holding ourselves back, the easier it will be for us to help ourselves get better. These are just steps and suggestions. Just words on a screen. Any time they’re put into practice and any time they give anyone any sort of benefit, that victory is not mine. Don’t give me the credit. Because you’re doing all of it. And you’ve been able to all along, so I’m glad you’re finally waking up and realizing it.

#i could never pull the trigger // ooc #this got long anyway #and trust me #i could have said so much more #share this around if you think it'll help someone #reblog it or whatever #or just share the information yourself #just get some helpful info out in the world #the more you know

[batneko]

Golden Ball

here’s something I wrote a while ago, a sequel to Drinking Buddies. I meant to do a whole long fic from Golden Ball’s perspective and keep going until the boys start a proper relationship, but I only got as far as backstory.

So here it is. Maybe I’ll finish it later.

Golden Ball was good at compartmentalizing. You had to be, when you looked like him. He absorbed the lesson very young that if he wanted to be accepted in certain circles he needed to adopt the mannerisms of those circles.

He spent almost a decade in khakis and collared shirts, pocket protectors and ties with caffeine molecules on them. And hell, he appreciated a chemistry joke as well as the next nerd, but he saw his colleagues cross the street to avoid men who dressed like he did when he hung out with friends, and...

He was 25 and his father was helping him look over job offers. They hadn't exactly been rolling in, not for a mere grad student, but everyone in the lab was getting them after their breakthrough. The gold shape-memory alloy wasn't superior to the other kinds on the market, but it sure looked cool as hell, and was relatively cheap to produce. Somebody was going to get very rich once they figured out what to do with the damn stuff.

Just having a hand in creating it gave Gold opportunities. And he was letting his father, who worked in HR, take a peek.

"I don't like this clause," he said, poking the paper with a bitten-down fingernail. He'd been doing that since they lost mom a couple years ago. Gold suspected his pale nerdy father had always been a secret nail-biter, and it was only the influence of his wife that held it back. He couldn't blame him. Gold was chewing pen caps like a damn hamster.

"It's standard," Gold said, though he didn't like it either.

"Taking the rights to things you might create in your spare time? Your lab gave you equal rights over that stuff you guys invented, and there was ten of you!"

"There's a big difference between a university lab and a commercial one."

He father sighed. "It's more money, but this one," he indicated the other offer, "has that non-competing clause too. You can't work in your own field of study for five years if you leave them? That can't be legal."

"It is if I agree to it." Gold pushed the paperwork away and let his eyes drift to the television in the next room. Absently, he put the end of a pen in his mouth.

"If this is what you want, you should do it," his father said. "You're smart enough, that's for sure. I know you can have a- a great career in... metals?"

"Chemistry, dad," Gold mumbled around the pen. The news was covering that new thing in Z City again, they were calling it a Hero Association now.

"Metal is a chemical?"

"Everything's a chemical, dad. We're all made of them."

Open applications, the ticker on the bottom of the screen said. There were investors pouring in after some guy named Blast saved the city from a giant centipede. The Association needed heroes to associate, and they were taking anyone who could pass a strength test.

Gold was strong. Okay, he mostly worked out for vanity's sake, but he was strong. And he'd figured out some pretty neat tricks with the memory alloy while they were testing it.

Behind the reporter, he saw people lined up. Young, old, men, women. Some wore t-shirts and jeans, some wore workout gear, some wore custom spandex suits. Nobody matched. They were all unique.

A box popped up with the starting salary of each rank of hero, and Gold bit through his pen.

It wasn't much compared to what the big companies were offering, but it was a hell of a lot more than he was making as a grad student. And it would mean wearing whatever he damn well pleased. It would mean not hiding half of himself from people he saw every day. It would mean no more worrying about coming off as "aggressive" just for disagreeing with someone.

Fuck it.

***

He met Spring Mustachio a year later. A large group of heroes had been dispatched to do something about a swarm of dog-sized spiders, and Gold took in the old guy with the tux and the stupid hipster mustache with the same quick dismissal as the dude in the cowboy outfit, or the one in a wrestling singlet. Most of the heroes had their gimmicks. Gold's only concession to a look was to get his name (and an explanation of his name) embroidered on his jacket.

He wasn't trying to be memorable, or a hip-hop hero (he'd nearly punched the PR guy who suggested it); he dressed this way because he wanted to.

Then the fight started and Gold was forced to admit he wasn't prepared for it. Fighting as a team was a lot different than working alone. He almost wasn't able to do anything for a while; the other heroes kept getting in the way.

Then, as the biggest spider yet burst from the ground, he found the path clear and the old mustache guy impaling three spiders with one thrust, and shouting, "Go! Take the shot!"

Gold didn't thank him after, and he would regret that for the rest of his life.

***

They met in another group situation months later, and this time Gold was better educated. He was a long-range fighter, that meant it was his responsibility to be aware of teammates and vantage points. Even if all he contributed was taking out the monster's eyes so the other heroes could get in close and finish it off, he was still the one who made their victory possible.

"You're not suited to these big missions," Spring Mustachio said, after properly introducing himself and offering a handkerchief for Gold's split knuckles.

"I did just fine," Gold protested, trying to knot the fabric one-handed.

"You're a long-range specialist."

"I ain't afraid to get my hands dirty."

"I see that." He smiled. He really wasn't bad-looking behind that awful mustache. "May I?"

Gold sighed and held out his hand so Spring could finish the bandage for him.

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Spring said as he carefully wrapped the handkerchief snugly around Gold's palm. "You're capable in close range too, obviously. But your specialty is long range. That's where you shine."

"Uh..." Shit. His heart rate was starting to go up, from one lousy compliment that was barely a compliment at that. "What, you think should be some lone sniper?"

Spring chuckled. "If that's what you want. These big chaotic battles only suit a couple types of fighting styles. I think you'd do just fine as part of a tighter squad, or with a partner." He tied the knot, perfectly, neatly, and his fingers slid over Gold's hand as he checked the fit. "It's nice to have someone to watch your back. Don't you think?"

It wasn't a come-on. Gold wasn't stupid. He could tell Spring was more trying to mentor him, pass on some knowledge or something. A few questions confirmed that Spring had actually been training with the sword for over a decade before the Hero Association began. He knew what he was talking about.

So Gold pushed aside his attraction. He was good at compartmentalizing. It had nothing to do with being a hero, so as long as he was working he ignored it.

If he mentioned how well he'd worked with Spring Mustachio in his after-action report, that was just because it was true.

#spring mustachio #golden ball #golden mustache #one punch man #batfics #opm