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caelestis-composition · 3 years

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killshot anon! YEAH i totally agree w/ your view on kaeya. it's so weird to me that people will blame him for his role in a situation he was forced into as a child through no choice of his own. that itself had to be traumatic, not to mention everything that happened later. i hate when people say he's untrustworthy - like yeah, he's lied, so has everyone? it's clear he does it mostly to protect himself. not to mention that (& sadism) can be symptoms of trauma. kaeya deserves nothing but happiness

take a seat folks it’s time for a “brynn should’ve been an english major” lesson! today we’re gonna learn some literary theory; specifically, we’re gonna apply psychoanalytical trauma theory to kaeya’s backstory and current character. killshot anon i bet you never thought this would result in a whole ass essay.

disclaimer one! you are allowed to dislike kaeya! i am not saying you need to like him or his character, you’re entitled to your opinion and i’m not here to change your mind.

disclaimer two! i am in no way an expert and this is all for fun! this is just my silly little analysis of one of my favorite characters as someone who’s studied literary theory and rhetoric and can also apply personal experience. seriously analysis is like a hobby to me and this is just an excuse for me to ramble about kaeya.

disclaimer three! this contains lots of spoilers! basically for everything we know in-game, general knowledge as well as stuff from his voicelines and character story. don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers.

since this is going to be filled with spoilers and is about to get really long, everything will be under a cut. for those who wanna read my dumb super informal essay: enjoy!

final note: yeah this is over 2000 words long can you tell i like analysis

⭒

let’s start by getting a quick rundown of trauma theory out of the way. to begin, what is “trauma?” in this case, trauma is going to refer to an experience that greatly affects and changes one’s life; attitudes, memories, behaviors, mental state, etc. while not all changes may be bad, per se, the overall effect of trauma is generally a negative one, which is why it’s so significant. literary trauma theory, then, explores these changes and the impact of trauma in literature. it analyzes the psychological and social effects of trauma, explaining what those effects are and why they happen. in the context of a specific character, trauma theory breaks down said character’s behaviors, feelings, and general mentality in relation to their past experiences; trauma theory hopes to explain to others the reasons for why a character may act or feel the way they do, all based upon the character’s experiences, particularly traumatic ones. our character today is the lovely kaeya alberich, with the “literature” being genshin impact. i’ll be referencing kaeya’s wiki page to ensure i get all details correct for his character story and voicelines.

it would be good to review kaeya’s backstory before delving into the actual analysis. though we don’t know much about his life before living in mondstadt, we’re told he was sent as an agent of khaenri’ah. and by “sent,” i mean his biological father abandoned him in a completely unfamiliar land to serve khaenri’ah’s interests and fullfil his mission—what this entirely entails hasn’t been revealed. mondstadt, however, welcomed kaeya “with open arms when they found him.” crepus ragnvindr took him in as his adopted son, with diluc as his adopted brother. kaeya and diluc were “almost like twins,” so close they “[knew] each other’s thoughts and intentions without a word.” he’d began a new life in mondstadt, one surrounded by friends and family that loved him; one that was completely shattered by crepus’s death. kaeya arrived at the scene of the disaster, and was led to believe diluc was the one who killed their father to “set his father free” from the effects of his delusion. there’d always been one big question in kaeya’s life: if it came down to it, who would he support? the nation that abandoned him, but he still felt loyal to, or the nation and family that took him in and really loved him? overrun with guilt, kaeya confessed his purpose to diluc, sparking a fight between the two brothers. in this fight, kaeya receives his cryo vision. though both brothers stepped away alive, they’ve never been able to make peace with one another. now, kaeya is the eccentric and charming cavalry captain of the knights of favonius; a man who gets his way by using any means necessary, regardless of whether or not it seems right.

kaeya’s not evil; he’s morally ambiguous, and that stems from what appears to be a general distrust of others. his life is one shrouded in secrecy. from the moment he stepped foot into mondstadt, he was surrounded by secrets. even now, he doesn’t talk about a lot of things, namely his past, vision, and feelings. though he’s always willing to get information out of others, kaeya never reveals anything about himself. he repeatedly tells the player they can confide in him, but whenever you try and pry into his life, he deflects your questions with some sort of witty comment or flirty remark. anything he does reveal is vague, or spoken in some sort of “code.” for example, his “interesting things” voiceline. he tells us about the owl of dragonspine, how it “seems to look right through you, while letting go of none of its own secrets,” and then tacks on a “quite fascinating, don’t you think?” it seems like an awfully accurate parallel to himself; kaeya does all he can to get information from others, but never gives anything about himself. now, this whole thing—his relationship with diluc falling apart and his need for secrecy—could have probably been avoided if he had just come clean about his mission years ago. so why didn’t he? to start, kaeya was a literal child. not only are children unable to properly tell the difference between right and wrong, but they’ll also typically follow their parents’ orders blindly. kaeya had just been abandoned, and he wouldn’t want to risk being cast out by mondstadt as well if he came clean right away. you see, there’s this thing about trauma, something that trauma theory states. traumatized people feel a sort of shame or guilt regarding their traumatic experience; they’ll keep quiet because they don’t want to cause problems or bother others with their issues. of course kaeya wouldn’t tell the truth about his past, he doesn’t want to destroy the genuinely loving relationships he’d built in mondstadt. his fight with diluc only proves what he was afraid of: if he’s honest, he’ll be abandoned again. and if kaeya’s used to all the lies, why should he bother changing?

another thing, if he’s not going to tell the truth, then why would he have initially gone along with his father’s plans? again, he was a child. he really had no choice, and was forced into a very wrong and cruel situation. there’s a good explanation for this, too, which is also stated in trauma theory; traumatized people will still do their best to please their abusers. especially if said abuser is a parent, that will drive traumatized people to work even harder to please them. although his father hurt him by ruthlessly abandoning him, kaeya still sought to make him and his homeland proud. he was willing to be used as a tool for their gain; that is, until he found people who actually cared about him. he was an impressionable child, of course he’s going to obey orders. but as he gets older, he feels torn. does he serve those who abandoned him, or those that took him in? his father—and arguably, khaenri’ah as a whole—hurt him, sure, but he still feels some loyalty and connection to his former home. instead of revealing anything, he lets the situation play out. that way, he can’t be blamed when things fall apart.

the thing about claiming he’s untrustworthy is that hardly anyone in-game believes that. he’s adored by the older folks in mondstadt, and foes and allies alike find him easy to talk to. despite seeming lazy and uninterested in work, kaeya takes his job very seriously. in fact, his story states that crepus’s death was the “first and only time kaeya failed in his duty.” the “only time” is especially important, because it signifies kaeya still fulfills his duties successfully. he’s had a total of one slip-up, and hasn’t failed since. no, kaeya is not untrustworthy. rather, kaeya finds everyone else untrustworthy. it’s not unlikely that this is a direct consequence of being abandoned as a child. although it’s been established that kaeya and diluc were very close as children, when crepus dies, kaeya assumes diluc is the one that killed him. in order to jump to such an extreme conclusion against someone he was so close to, there had to be some underlying sense of distrust. furthermore, kaeya expresses feeling as though he doesn’t belong anywhere. he was abandoned by khaenri’ah, and then worried he wouldn’t be accepted by mondstadt. he is, but there’s still that worry. if you place him in your teapot as a companion, he tells you that your home feels like someplace he belongs, following it up with a “heh, who’d have thought…” kaeya still feels as though he doesn’t belong in mondstadt; despite the fact that he’s a high-ranking knight of favonius and rather popular, he still feels like an outsider. he doesn’t trust that anyone actually wants him around, and he finds joy in testing peoples’ trustworthiness. it’s noted in his story and through his voicelines that the beloved cavalry captain has a rather sadistic nature. he likes putting people into difficult situations, to see what decisions they will make. he does this to both opponents and allies, testing to see who’s going to back out and who’ll keep fighting; in the sake of allies, who can he trust? or who will turn tail and abandon their teammates at the slightest hint of danger? i mentioned it previously, but kaeya doesn’t care what measures he has to take so long as his job gets done and he gets the answers he wants. it’s a sort of self-preserving mindset, putting himself above the safety of others. kaeya’s trying to protect himself, which makes sense with all he’s been through. he doesn’t want to be hurt, and instead finds pleasure in threatening harm upon others. it’s twisted, sure, but it’s because he can only trust himself in a world that he believes is out to get him. he’s got as many enemies—if not more—as he does allies; of course kaeya focuses on protecting himself first, whether physically or through keeping his secrets, well, secret.

his most obvious traumatic effect is definitely his alcoholism. but he uses it as a distraction, not just to wallow in self-pity. this is seen again in his story, particularly in story 3. it’s found that when his favorite drink, death after noon, is out of season, mondstadt’s crime rate is decreased drastically. at face value, this just means kaeya spends more time working when death after noon is low in supply. but kaeya doesn’t skip work to go to taverns; it’s already been established he takes his job very seriously, so this means he actually patrols and tracks down threats while off work when he can’t indulge in his favorite alcoholic drink. he doesn’t get drunk simply because he’s depressed. if he did, there wouldn’t be a drop in incidents when death after noon is out of season. no, kaeya uses both the alcohol and fighting to distract himself. after all, it’s a little hard to think about feeling sad when you’re either drunk out of your mind or fighting for your life.

despite being so secretive, kaeya gives us glimpses of his true emotions from time to time. as previously mentioned, his flirty attitude is nothing more than a mask to hide how he really feels; and kaeya is terribly, terribly lonely. that may be why he seems so extroverted. constantly being around people should, logically, drive away that feeling, but it doesn’t work like that. when he talks with the player, he frequently expresses disappointment when you have to leave. each time, though, he dampens the weight of his words with playful or flirty language. he’s lonely, but doesn’t want you to know that, like he’s afraid of asking you to stay. he takes the seriousness of his feelings, and basically bends it into some sort of lighthearted joke. kaeya hides his true feelings—negative feelings, to be exact—so that he doesn’t bother anyone. which is, again, something that happens with traumatized people. he displays that hesitance to reveal his true feelings, because there’s a shame or guilt that comes with his past. he doesn’t want to bother others or hold them back, so he puts on a smile and amps up the charisma. one other very important thing—but very small detail—i would like to note is his feelings toward family. his fell apart not even once, but twice, and kaeya still holds familial relationships in high regard. we know he doesn’t exactly care how he goes about getting his work done. he doesn’t pay attention to what’s “right” or “wrong,” so long as he gets what he needs. but one of his informants, vile, notes that the cavalry captain has one exception: he won’t work with those who threaten others’ families. in fact, kaeya claims those who do should be hunted down and destroyed. even though his own families have caused him so much pain—and he ended up estranged from both—he still understands the importance of having people who love you in your life. because he didn’t get that.

kaeya’s not evil. ultimately, as a knight of favonius, his goal is to protect others, because no one was there to protect him. and because no one was there to protect him, because he’s been hurt time and time again by people who were supposed to love him, kaeya has taken to protecting himself. he hides any and all negative feelings with a charismatic, friendly façade, because he thinks it’ll drive away his persistent loneliness. any “bad” actions of his were hardly his fault; he was forced into a life of secrecy and lies, and then abandoned by the first people who truly loved him. kaeya’s a multi-faceted, tragic character, one that toes the line between good and evil, and that’s what makes him so interesting.

#brynn yells #brynn answers #killshot anon #brynn's writing #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya

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thefact0rygirl · 3 years

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ROUGH BOY, SWEET WORDS | Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: praise kink, affirmation play (is that a thing?), tied up/restrained hands, mention of face sitting, grinding, teasing, penetrative sex (p in v), cowgirl, creampie, alluding to a breeding kink, cockwarming, soft!din

Summary: Din just wants to be held and whispered words of affirmation. He just doesn’t know it.

{masterlist} {cross-posted on ao3}

Din Djarin has no qualms praising you and showering you with affection, but struggles when you return that same affection.

And "struggles” is putting it lightly.

He is a Mandalorian, a warrior. Being treated like porcelain is the exact opposite of what has been ingrained into him.

Din is also your partner, your riduur. It has taken him so long to become comfortable with the idea that someone as morally grey as him could be likened to a rare stone in another person’s eyes. Over time, he has let down his walls to bathe in your warmth and affection, but there are still moments when he shies away from it.

Like now.

Since reuniting Grogu with the Jedi, Din has grown wary of your compassion and sincerity. It feels alienating to him, like it’s wrong for him to accept love when your little clan is torn apart. With your ad’ika gone and your lives in shambles, Din slowly returns to the one stability he knows all too well: roughness.

Rough bounties, rough words, rough hands.

Reuniting with his old persona as the big, bad bounty hunter, he finds shallow solace in insults and the camouflage his beskar provides. It’s what he knows best.

Even sex is rough with Din manhandling you in place as he fucks his frustrations out onto you. Not that you don’t enjoy it, oh no. Not at all. Rough Din hits different, but you're worried about him. He is in a state of perpetual tension, shying away whenever you go for something gentler. It’s hard to miss the way he stiffens whenever you try to adore him with genuine flattery.

It’s then in a rented room on Nevarro that you decide to try something different to make him feel your love. You know he is expecting something kinky when you use your old blindfold to tie his hands to the bedpost. You don’t confirm or deny his assumptions either, opting instead to straddle his head between your thighs, riding his face until he is drenched in your release.

Sliding down his body, you hover over his hips until your pussy is inches away from his throbbing cock. You coo his name like it’s a melody until he looks at you. The room is dim, save for a small lamp in the corner, but to Din, you look like the sun itself, sweat shimmering off your body like the finest silk.

With a coy smile, you ignite his world when you lower your hips until his cock is nestled against your heat. He gasps when he feels your pussy pulsing against his shaft, desire ripping through his veins as his nerves crackle in pleasure.

Din’s hands twitch against the restraining cloth that keeps him mounted to the bedpost. He could easily break through the flimsy material, you both know that. All it takes is a flick of his wrists for the fabric to tear before he does the same to you.

But he doesn’t.

He stays put, watching as you gyrate against him.

The restraints were figurative, anyway, something you wanted to try and he was more than happy to oblige if it meant seeing you in such a salacious position. So luxurious, so spoiled with your head thrown back as you use his body for your pleasure.

Tugging on your nipples, you pant out, “Stars, I love your cock.”

You start small with your praise, a simple comment he’s heard countless of times before. Something to add that extra spark to your rocking hips, but not enough to scare him.

You don’t expect him to respond, and your guess is correct. Din groans in response, letting the comment roll off of him without a second thought. Your mouth is open in an ‘o’ and all he can imagine is shoving his cock down your throat.

“Yeah? My pretty baby wants her pussy stuffed?”

A low gasp escapes you when Din’s thighs twitch under you, the sudden movement causing the head of his cock to catch against your clit.

Biting your lip, you nod, “I love your body. You’re so big, so strong.”

Now that gets a reaction out of him. His brain stutters for a moment as every part of him pauses. His body stiffens under you, but doesn’t reply.

Din tries to reason with himself as each drag of your hips propels him farther in arousal. You don’t know what you’re saying. He doesn’t even know if you really did say…that. Your pussy is throbbing so hard against him he wonders if this is actually a wet dream. Probably best to just avoid it all together.

Yeah, just don’t say anything.

But then you lower yourself until your hard nipples are pressing into his scarred chest. Nuzzling your face over his heart, words continue to spill from your mouth, “I love your scars. I know you hate them, but I adore them. They mean you fought and survived.”

Without his helmet, Din is an open book. You see it when he averts his eyes to the ceiling, his tan skin flushing to a rosy brown. You could practically hear his mind puttering, the gears working overtime, to rationalize your words as if they were some riddle.

Because why else would his riduur see anything but adoration and love for him? Right?

Before he can fall further into his unease, your finger tips rub light circles around his nipples as you pucker your lips to assemble a line of kisses. Starting at his sternum you kiss up his neck, over his Adam’s apple, and stopping to lick up your cum that soaks his chin.

Din wilts from your touch. Your skin is so soft, your kisses so delicate, he whimpers as he feel your hands move to cradle his head. He just wants to feel you, run his rough hands against your silk skin, revel in your softness and forget about the nonsense spewing from your mouth. The bedpost squeaks as he tugs against the cloth.

Feeling your thumb resting at the corner of his mouth, he turns until he places a kiss against the finger pad, as if trying to push away his uneasiness.

Feeling your breath on the shell of his ear, you confess quietly, “You’re so much stronger than you think and you amaze me, Din.”

Embarrassment and confusion blend together until they form a strangled protest in his chest, working its way up his throat. He should be the one praising you, not you praising him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, pushing his face into your hand in an attempt to hide the blooming red tint on his cheeks.

“Doing what?” Your hips continue to rock in a steady pace.

“The compliments.” He voice grits out like it’s dragging across sandpaper.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He lets out a breath, “I…” He stops, not answering the question.

Din shies away from the praise instinctively, having trouble reconciling his self-esteem with the way the remarks make his cock twitch. He feels warm and tingly, draped under a pleasant haze of affection, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it.

But he wants to. He wants to so fucking bad. After everything that has happened, he wants to feel okay. He wants to hear words of affirmation from one of the only beings in this forsaken galaxy that matters.

You.

He wants to hear your voice, even if he isn’t ready to admit it. So, he shuts his eyes, his hips involuntarily twitching as you continue to grind against him. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Weaving your hands in his hair, you tug on the curly brown mess at the nape of his neck. You bury your nose against his neck, inhaling his comforting blend of musk, soap, and metal.

“I love your smell.”

Your tongue drags along the protruding vein on his neck, following it down to the dip between his neck and shoulder.

“And the way you taste.”

Din calls out your name in an attempt to fight off the warmth of your words, but his throat betrays him, constricting to keep his protests down.

“And, stars, the sounds you make,” You moan, sucking tiny bruises into his flesh. “Those little whines when you come. I think about those when you’re gone.”

You lift your head so your lips ghost over his. You’re so close and your words are making his stomach churn as blood rushes to his weeping member.

There’s something in the way you keep grinding against him paired with your sweet words that reminds him of his better self. The one that traveled all across the galaxy, risked his life, all to reunite a little, green boy with his people. He wants to drink your words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling of intoxication.

He lifts his head up to attempt to kiss you, but you sit you up before he can. With your hands letting go of his hair, Din trashes his head to the side at the miss. You don’t miss the way his tenses in anticipation.

“Cyare,” He insists, rosy cheeks turning bright red.

“My strong and beautiful riduur.”

“Okay, stop.” Din pants, arms pushing forward to break free.

You don’t miss the sound of breaking threads and you shove his chest with enough force to push him back into the mattress.

“No,” You growl, eyes narrowing at him.

Eyes widening in disbelief, he chokes out, “Fucking tease.”

“I just can’t enough of you.” You move your arms behind you, hands holding onto his thick thighs as you arch your back and rut faster against him.

“But you know what’s my favorite?”

You don’t wait for an answer, you weren’t expecting one. You just keep rocking against him, coating him in your wetness until he’s soaked, your juices dripping down to his balls.

“When you cum inside me. I love it when you drip from me. Stars — feeling your seed filling me, I feel so close to you.”

“Stop,” Hr grunts your name. “Just, f-fuck—S-stop. Before I cum.”

Din hisses for the split second that cool air hits his cock before it’s enveloped again in warmth. Smirking down at him, you hold him tightly in your hand as you lower yourself down, wincing at the familiar stretch as he fills you.

Finally feeling your pulsing cunt consume him, Din lets out a surprise grunt, his hips jumping up, and you have to give him a second to get under control.

“Fuck, cyare,” He whispers, struggling not to melt back into the bed as you grip him like a silk glove, your inner muscles flexing around his intruding length.

Not wasting a second, you start swaying immediately. You’re both too desperate to go slow anymore, you’ve been at this for ages now. Din leans his head back, tilting his chin to take in the breathtaking sight of you, blissed out and lost in the growing pleasure between your legs. Your body rolls with your movements as you bounce on his cock, your breasts jiggling from the force of your hips. Din can’t help but moan at the thought that his tattered body could bring you so much bliss.

Din is close to his own release, his orgasm carrying him along the edge of climax. And then you start up again with saccharine words.

“Feel how wet I am, Din?”

“That’s all you, riduur. Only you can do that.”

Cracking your eyes open, you look down to see Din’s skin colored red in embarrassment. He can only nod, eyes screwing shut as he tries to gain control of himself. He is so close after being teased for so long. He jerks his hips upward, impatient.

You want to whisper more praise at him. You don’t want to stop until he feels your love, but for now you stop. Din is still hiding, breathing heavily as his hips move in involuntary motions, hard cock throbbing desperately inside of you.

Leaning down to nip at his ear, you listen to his breath shake, as you bounce on his lap. His cock is easily sliding in and out of you from how wet you are. You’re soaked.

“Din,” You call, kissing the side of his mouth. “D—Din. Look at me.”

He groans, but follows your request. His pupils are blown out from need and a haze of conflict clouds his brown irises. For all the teasing and mixed emotions your words bring him, he craves them.

He craves you.

Your loving eyes, your soft whispers, the purple patches you paint on his neck — they’re the things that show him he is in your thoughts. He watches your eyes as you look at him like he has the stars in his hands. You are just as consumed in him as he is of you. If he captivates you, then he will happily be your captive.

In that moment, all he wants is to touch you. Add a physical stability to your words. He wants to roll between the vowels, let the words sear into his skin like another one of his scars.

“What is it, Din?”

He shudders, pushing his chest up against yours, desperate for the skin to skin contact. “I—I want…Keep talking, but just let me — L-Let me touch you.”

Nodding, you move to the bedpost, but Din is faster. He pushes forward, tearing your old blindfold to shreds while pushing his upper half up until he is sitting up. His hands hold your back to steady you from the sudden movement and to keep you still impaled on his cock.

With you cradled in his arms, his lips crash down to yours. It’s messy, but steeped in a passion that ignites the purest and most vulnerable versions of yourselves. It’s between your moving tongues that there is a promise of realness that Din embraces, allowing your affirmations to crack his defenses.

Pulling away, he sees love in your eyes, and when you speak, he welcomes the burning on his cheeks, rolling around in honeyed words.

“I love you. You’re so strong, so beautiful.”

You sit up straighter, bouncing in Din’s lap. You dig your heels into the bedspread to gain momentum, but you had been at this for an hour, riding his thigh, tying him up, and your movements get jerky and unsteady as the sensation grows more pleasurable.

“I love you, too,” Din gasps, dropping his head until he is hunched into you. You’re wrapped around him, his protective cocoon, as his breath tattoos Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum into your skin.

“D—Din! Oh, stars,” You babble into his hair. “So close…”

He growls at the announcement, pulling away from you as he propels himself forward to push you into the bed. You’re now under him, your legs instinctively locked around his waist.

You’re right where he wants you. You’ve had your fun, now it’s his turn. Holding himself up, he slams back inside your tight pussy.

You cry out, your body seizing and shaking and you struggle to keep your eyes open so you can watch Din’s reaction.

His lips are bruised and red, hanging open on sounds of pleasures and ragged inhales. His eyelashes fan out over his flushed cheeks and his hair is slick and mussed on the top of his head.

“F—Fuck, how did I deserve this?” Din cracks, watching you trapped under him. He’s driving his hips against yours, your body thrusting up from the force of his snapping hips. He may be the one on top, but you are in control. With your little whines and adoring eyes, you’re squeezing his heart and setting his lungs is on fire.

Chanting his name like a prayer, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he loses control. There is no rhythm and rhyme to it, he just fucks you deeper and harder. It’s too easy for him to lose himself to you, in you.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes screwing shut as he feels his length enter you, going deeper with each thrust.

“You’re lovely. Love you so much,” You tell him and Din sobs, clutching at you tighter to him.

“Riduur, my riduur.”

Your heart skips. Not from his words, but the way his voice shakes with the first vowel before entirely shattering my the end. It’s the little whines that escape him as he fucks you harder into the mattress, his need for you spilling into something so powerful he can’t help but moan.

As Din’s movements become more frantic, you lodge a hand between your bodies and find your clit, rubbing sloppy circles until you moan. The growing arousal ignites your core, ripping through your body as your walls clench around him. Your muscles shake as the wetness between your legs pools, splashing against Din’s groin as you ride out your peak.

“G-good girl, milk my cock,” Din whispers, chasing his own release.

His own orgasm takes him by surprise. He can feeling it building, but he doesn’t expect it when his balls draw up and his cock throbs, hot liquid spilling inside of you.

It’s intense — more intense than it has any right to be.

Moaning, he paints your walls white. He continues thrusting through his orgasm, a meager attempt to push his seed deeper inside of you. Maybe even deep enough to reach your womb…

You move against each other, involuntary, shallow shivers as your orgasms drag out, pulling pleasure from ever nerve inside of you.

“You’re beautiful.” You say, swallowing precarious gulps of air.

You drop your legs from his waist, releasing at least part of him from your hold. But he doesn’t move, staying lodged between you as he softens.

Din lets out a dry chuckle, “You’re going to have to wait for round two.”

“I mean it, Din,” You say so much conviction, he is unsure of what to say.

He leans towards you, pressing his lips against yours in soft kiss. You smile gently at the connection and lay back, pulling Din to follow you as he remains inside of you. He lays his head against your chest, letting your erratic heartbeat lull him in a peaceful state.

He whispers, “I know.”

mando’a translations

Riduur - spouse, partner, husband, wife

Ad’ika - little one, son or daughter at any age

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - I love you (literally, “I know you forever.”)

Cyare - beloved

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bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

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Dazai Osamu character breakdown as I understand him

Meaning that this might be inaccurate and your opinion and visage of him might differ from mine, which is just fine. We perceive the world and the people around us through our experiences and expectations. I'm curious to know how you guys see a complex character like Dazai, just please respect everyone's opinions.

Warning: Manga plot mentions, s2 spoilers, BEAST light novel spoilers, Dazai Osamu

Dazai Osamu was introduced into the scene of Bungou Stray Dogs at 14 when Mori found him.

Even at that young age, Dazai had suicidal tendencies and had been wrapped in bandages similarly as he is in the present. Already dealing with too much trauma for a child his age, the fire is fuelled as he was forced to bear witness to the death of the Port Mafia boss at the hands of Mori, the person that took him under his wing. To use him; which was becoming very apparent to Osamu if he hadn't been aware since the start. Now, I'm not saying that death of the previous boss left a particular scar on Samu, he even agrees with it and is something he himself would have done. But that that is the scene that bore fruit of the following quotes:

"Or could it be that you're afraid, Mori-san? That one day i will slit your throat and take over as the boss?"

followed by

"Everyone seems suspicious to those who have an axe to grind."

This tells us right away that he can tell what type of person you are just from the way you perceive your surroundings, which is logical, but not something many think too deep into.

Even less who have their evaluations of others on point like he does. And he has to, since Dazai's plan is always to understand his allies, his enemies, possible allies and possible enemies. He also takes into account important neutral parties that can still, in one way or another, affect the outcome of his plans or decide to align with one side out of common interest. After comes realising the main goals, along with side achievements (just in case some of those maim his allies or ruin the future plans he made) of every party. Taking in their morals and motivation, and being familiar with the ground the confrontation will happen on, he now has the view of the whole chess board and it's pieces in his head. He moves his allies in the right places, knowing how they'll react in the situation to come, and awaits the enemies with open fire arms. He was tought to think like that. At all times. Mori made sure of it. You know how specialists never really stop thinking in their areas of expertise, like doctors, for example, will naturally notice people's posture and look for scoliosis or whatever? How your foot hits the floor, if you're walking straight, your knees and shoulders, etc. Same for Dazai. His brain maps out person's expressions, reactions, choices, personality, etc. in great detail. I'm pretty sure he has eidetic memory, if his conversations in manga with Fyodor are anything to go by.

Another thing his brain does is think of worst possible outcomes.

Not in a fear of what if things go wrong, but as a possible route. He uses it to determine how big of a threat the opposing force is and what steps they'll have to take to achieve that. Knowing that, he'll know how to intercept them. Also, like everything else, it's not something he can control since we're talking about thought process here and that's just how his brain works. Can't magically turn that off. It's especially annoying to him when he's genuinely enjoying himself with, let's say, ADA members and then his brain goes brrr.

•"A lot happened recently and we're a torn in many people's eyes." *Tanizaki and Atsushi drinking punch* "There's a possibility, while a small one, about 8% at this very moment, but as time goes on will increase, that an organisation outside of Yokohama decided we're an unavoidable threat and poisoned the drinks. Don't drink that. Nothing will happen, they'll wake up tomorrow in pristine condition don't drink th-"

Yeah, i feel bad for him too.

He has PTSD and insomnia, besides the hectic brain,

so he's not getting proper amount of rest. Actually, he drinks almost every night by himself at home. Pretty sure it's canon as well, because if you search for a picture of him in his room, you'll see him surrounded by multiple bottles. Two of the PTSD symptoms are hallucinations and night terrors (no, that is not the same as a nightmare). What people usually do is use opium to cause hallucinations in a safe environment so that there's little chance of them happening uncontrolled. He's probably using alcohol to numb himself while he's reminiscing, since if he does still have hallucinations after years having passed by (which isn't impossible), they're probably few and far between. Not saying there's no chance he isn't using opium. He would know where to get what he needs, after all.

Osamu's haunted by his own actions as well, not just by trauma caused to him.

At an uncountable amount of occasions, he found himself looking into a mirror and not really comprehending his image. It was like dissociation. Looking through a fog at what's supposed to be your carbon copy, but not knowing all of your features perfectly, so whatever you're seeing could only be an impostor, yet you're not sure because that would take comprehending physical proof of your life to the fullest and how it works and he just... can't. He can but he doesn't want to. He already knows he's despicable and broken, doesn't really feel the need to see just how much. He can't, for all his perfect memory, remember the faces of the people he has killed. He hadn't even seen all of them, but he was responsible for their demise. Causing havoc and misfortune in general through other crimes besides murder as well. We've seen his expression when he listened in on Atsushi talking to Kyouka over the earpiece how the 35 deaths don't matter anymore. He knows they do and he knows that the change of heart won't justify what he's they've done. Ango thought him to value each life. But he also knows that even murderers can change and become good. Oda did that. It's also what's keeping him in the agency.

When Oda died, his last words mentioned that Dazai doesn't care about good or bad and that was correct for Dazai Osamu back then. I genuinely think that his present self does mind the difference.

He believes in necessary evil and will do dark shit to get the good outcome he's envisioned.

He doesn't separate outlaws and lawful people, however.

He knows that generally speaking, the line is thin and easy to cross and that many were born or forced into the situations they are. Those that fight the life thrown at them are an exception, not a rule. That's also why he likes Atsushi, probably the main reason. The boy has every right to hate the world and yet. Dazai is envious, he doesn't really have the same capacity.

I want now to talk about why does Dazai Osamu do what Dazai Osamu does.

The reason he attempts suicide, joined the mafia, made friends at all, is because for all his intelligence and observations, ability to understand others, he doesn't really understand himself.

He doesn't understand his worth. He doesn't understand his purpose. In all of that confusion, he finds no reason to live. He laughs but can't get the high, he bruises but can't fully heal. In all of the things people find happiness in he can't feel joy from. He is emotionally stunted. He thinks too logically. He doesn't understand actions out of emotions because to him, it doesn't make sense. Emotions cloud your mind and when you're not thinking straight, you make mistakes. Plain and simple. He just accepts it, that most people simply cannot control themselves and prefer lashing out instead of methodical approach. All the better for him, he has leverage. Even when he does act on impulse, which is incredibly rare and not as explosive and dramatic, his brain rationalises it as to why his actions were a good way to go. And if his reaction was one that bore fruit, than it was a tactical one.

"If you place yourself somewhere close to raw emotions, where you're exposed to raw violence and death, instinct and desire, you can brush against man's true nature. I though that way i could find a reason to live somehow."

From this, i can tell that he was hoping that, in a situation where he's pushed far enough, he'd realise what's important to him, what he wants to protect or destroy, what's one thing he wouldn't want to leave unsettled before dying. What is that one thing he'd regret dying before achieving? What should he fight death for. What is worth living on for? To him, it doesn't matter if that something is good or evil as long as he gets to keep it in his life.

It seems he hadn't found it exactly, but is satisfied with what he has for now, in the agency, to just keep going. But he still tries to commit suicide, hoping that one day, when the clear picture of the world around him is fading away, when he's becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen, when he's loosing control over his body and thoughts don't seem to flow well, there will be one thing, anyone, screaming at him to fight it. New day new chances. It didn't happen today, better luck tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomo-.

Now, like Mori, Dazai feels the need to, at all times, be in control of the situation. Including people.

That means no one, but perhaps Ranpo due to his own abnormal intellect, is aware of their own role. They know their mission, but they're not expecting to be given that particular one because they'll come across an obstacle they would react to in a way that would satisfy Osamu's plans.

Dazai Osamu is more of a chemist, than a chess player, if you ask me.

Throwing different people into the mix, under different conditions at different times and is noting down their reactions in safe surrounding if possible, so that when the time calls for it, he'll be able to make a perfect concoction for the predicament. A chemist and his substances; A chess player and his pawns; A puppeteer and his puppets. Now, Dazai is meticulous and never rash, but like everyone else (except effin Lovecraft what is he even) he's only human and he bleeds when he falls down and humans aren't perfect. He isn't always right. That means he makes mistakes. The issue with big shot players that control the board is that, when they fall down, everyone on their side crashes and burns as well. So the day Dazai fucks up everyone else will follow because of lack of insight on their part that's completely out of their control. All it takes is for him to underestimate or overestimate one person and chaos ensues. There is no such thing as happy little accidents small mistakes for someone like him. I have crippling anxiety and a sole thought that one hiccup could blow up in everyone's face... damn. I would try committing suicide myself. But it's his fault, he brought upon himself an obligation and pressure like that. To be fair, it was Mori that drilled that type of thinking where no one should know what you plan because they can't ruin what they don't know If they turn against you, they can't stop you.

For his own sake, and everyone else's, Dazai needs to learn how to show his cards and share the burden.

Again, going back to the emotionally stunted guy that has commitment issues (where he either can't commit or can't let go) trope.

He never outright does something good for someone where people would acknowledge it, he uses his underhanded tactics here as well.

He casually makes himself look like a bad guy, an asshole, to conveniently move attention from the inner turmoil a person is struggling with to a present problem at hand that they can fix and let their frustrations out on. But he hopes that, one day, someone just might notice his intentions for what they are and do the unspeakable- see through him.

"I'm a very private person. You don't ask, i don't tell."

Yes, and your whole existence is just a huge cry for help. He wants to be asked. He's begging for attention. A specific type of attention. One that will see him without making him feel imposed on. One that will understand his sins without making a big deal out of it. Accept him as a person he is, makes him feel like one as well. Makes him feel alive. Makes him feel... period.

The day he finds that thing is the day he completely turns his life around and fully dedicates to it. It's where the part of not being able to let go commitment issue ensues.

Since Oda's death he's been secretly keeping an eye out on possible ways to bring him back. If you've read Beast AU you know that when Dazai gets his hands on the book, he'll create a universe where Oda doesn't die. Should he find an ability user that can bring back the dead, just tell him what it will take, he's ready to destroy his own soul for it and if that isn't enough, well, he'll have no hesitation ruining theirs. After all, BEAST!Dazai Osamu never actually met Odasaku, he just had the memories he'd gotten from his canon self and that was enough for him to do everything he did.

He's incredibly selfish and has a weird come in but the door is a wall dynamic he rolls with in his self imposed solitude.

It's like the walls of the space in my brain are ugly and terrifying, so i closed off the entrance to keep myself in. I'm doing you a favour but please break the wall down and tell me it's okay to come out i don't want to be here-

Happy little thoughts woah woah yeah~

That's what i got from what I've seen of him. I may have missed some things, some things might prove to be wrong as the series progress further, but yeah.

There is, however, one more thing i want to put out here. Since Dazai was already like this before Mori found him, that begs to question as to why? What happened to him?

Now, since the characters are based on real people, is it crazy to say that Dazai Osamu has had a horrible childhood because of his father? Real life Dazai was terrified of his dad and was very intimidated by him. He always tried to stay in his good graces out of fear of punishment. Neither of his parents felt like a parent to him, actually. His father didn't care and his mother was often ill, but did care for him when she could. Both of them died eventually.

This could be the plot Kafka based Dazai's background on, but we'll have to wait and see.

#dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #bsd #meta #dazai osamu headcanon #dazai osamu headcanons #hc #hcs #psychoanalysis

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muzzleroars · 4 years

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Cake’s Bad End Au Part III: The Holy Grail

Here it is, the posts that will finally outline the events of my Bad End AU! I’m not a writer in any sense, but with so many people enjoying the content I create for this AU and several people asking about it, I wanted to write up a synopsis of the events that take place and, more simply, what this AU even is. This is my idea of what happens when Akira takes Yaldabaoth’s deal on Christmas Eve and all of its implications, so I hope everyone enjoys it and that it puts the pieces for my AU in context. There will be three parts: Akira, The Thieves, and The Holy Grail. This is Part III: The Holy Grail, which details how Akira is saved and how the Thieves ultimately conquer Yaldabaoth. (7,325 words)

(TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse and some descriptions of illness/pain)

When the Thieves meet again, there’s a strained sadness, close to hopelessness as they look at each other in turn and wonder if anyone has any ideas...the longer the silence hangs over them, the closer they come to saying out loud only things Goro has had the courage to say until now but, surprisingly, Ryuji speaks up. He prefaces what he’s about to say with acknowledging how stupid it’s probably going to sound and that he never really understood too much how the Metaverse worked but...with the scar on Akira’s chest, with the way it bled to summon that god, is it possible Akira’s heart was stolen and...if they get it back...maybe…? He trails off with the idea as no one speaks up, thinking it must have been SO stupid the other Thieves don’t even want to recognize it, but Ann says hesitantly that she thought of something similar. Ryuji nods excitedly to her and looks over to Makoto, their stand-in leader, and he’s hopeful by the look of concentration on her face as she considers what Ryuji says. They wait on her silence before she asks Goro about Akira’s heartbeat, how he didn’t feel a pulse, and Goro completes her thought by saying, as a being of the Metaverse, Akira’s heart being stolen has translated into something literal in a sense. His heart is actually gone...but it’s not in the way the Thieves’ had stolen them before, correct? After all, Akira is a pure being that Yaldabaoth is attempting to “perfect”, Makoto positing that perhaps his shadow was destroyed similar to a mental shutdown but Goro suspects it could be that he is severed from his shadow...and if that is the case, his shadow exists in some capacity somewhere as it seems not all of his memories are entirely lost. A rescue mission in a sense seems more feasible after seeing the god that controls him and if they were to find his shadow – or his persona – lost in the sea of souls, there must be a way of reconnecting the two in order for Akira to regain his heart.

All of this is conjecture, they understand that, but Futaba immediately begins to think on how she and her Persona might be able to find Akira’s heart...surely it must remain somewhere in Mementos and if she begins attempting to track for Arsène’s signature, maybe...maybe they could find him. And while he may have forgotten himself being stolen from Akira, perhaps, if Goro really does have similar capabilities, he could negotiate with him in the same way Akira used to in order for Arsène to remember himself. It’s a longshot and they all know it, but what in their work as Thieves hasn’t been? It will require them to face down a hostile Metaverse, perhaps even moreso now, time and time again before they may even get a hint of Arsène, but they all agree to the plan...including Goro, who mostly holds out hope that in finding Arsène, they’ll learn exactly what happened to Akira.

So with a plan in place, they push forward into Mementos once more and day after day they will spend hours roaming its halls, Futaba helping to cloak them along with smokescreens they’ve created using Akira’s old notes, but still they seem endlessly hunted with the Reaper in particular tailing them far more often than it used to. It’s grueling work, however, the team’s morale whittling little by little every day after an excursion that leaves them bone-tired but no closer to finding their answer...and what if they’re wrong? What if the god has totally destroyed Akira’s shadow and has modified him after causing a mental shutdown in him? It must be possible for an entity like that to accomplish as much...but even still, they persist because, after all, this is their best option – they can’t leave Akira as he is, and it’s either fight to the death or bet on Arsène still existing somewhere in the vast reaches of Mementos. It’s exhausting, it’s thankless, and the public continue to shift more and more due to the amounts of hearts Akira reaps, but it also reminds them every day that this cannot stand, that Akira would never have wanted this...even if he was the one that created it.

It makes all their pain well worth it when Futaba’s search finally pings late into the night in another trip to Mementos – a signature like Akira’s, like Arsène’s, wandering deep in the Depths where they know they can’t stay for long without fear of being devoured. It’s a mad dash toward that signal before they lose it, Futaba keeping a good track of it even as it moves erratically through the floor, and finally, finally, all of their patience and hard work can pay off. Arsène obviously isn’t whole, his mask cracked with broken horns and torn wings, making it clear how forcefully he was ripped from Akira in order to sever his will of rebellion and brainwash him for that god. He initially behaves similarly to the other shadows that wander the Metaverse, although his attacks are far more frenzied and disjointed, but, knowing all his weaknesses, the Thieves can easily surround him to attempt a negotiation...and it’s one that proves interesting, even difficult, given Akira’s propensity to wear masks. They must answer in a way Akira would like, the true Akira and not the one molding himself to whatever the other person might want to hear, so it takes the effort of each and every one of them coming together to answer the questions Arsène poses to them. Goro takes the helm on speaking with him, however, distinctly aware of how similar he and Akira could be if the disguise was peeled away from them both, and with that knowledge coupled with consultation between all of the Thieves, they come to reason with Arsène and in doing so, he remembers himself, he remembers Akira.

He takes up residence in Goro’s heart after thanking the Thieves for finding him, admitting that he too initially sought them out but, given his weakened state and his separation from Akira, he forgot himself. They learn from him all that happened to lead Akira here, how the false god had led him through this past year, how they had forged a powerful bond just as Akira had with all of the others here, how that trust was betrayed...how all of them disappeared and Akira was left to decide the fate of the world while held hostage under threat of death, under the coercion of his teammates being revived, under the impression of a cold and callous public that cared not for him nor any of Thieves that had been lost. In that state, he made the wrong choice – he gave in to his own desires and the god ripped Arsène from him, tore out any connection they had to each other in a bid to destroy Akira’s rebellious spirit and make room for him to take up residence where Akira’s heart had once been. Arsène was not gotten rid of himself as Akira was still human at the time and doing so would have killed him, with the false god a bumbling fool himself that has no knowledge of how the human soul works and so could never safely perform the operation himself. So Arsène was cast off into the depths instead, where Yaldabaoth knew he would ultimately forget himself and, in time, possibly expire due to his lack of a human host at that point. In other words, Yaldabaoth is arrogant, narrow-sighted, and stupid, hardly a god but instead just a being given immense power that had twisted Akira’s cognition...for all those months, in fact. Akira, locked in the Depths of Mementos under the guise of the Velvet Room, the two fused in such a way that Akira was, without knowledge, exposed to Yaldabaoth’s distortion each time he stepped foot into that cell – with no image of rebellion to protect him, he was slowly poisoned with Yaldabaoth’s influence, insidiously, to the point that it may have helped tip the scale in Akira’s decision. Now knowing the truth and knowing what their leader had suffered to bring him to this state, all that’s left was to see if the Thieves could return Arsène to him...or if it really would come down to their deaths.

Now would come the full exploration of Akira’s cathedral – the Thieves wait until there is another lull in hearts being stolen, knowing it means Akira must have returned home in order to rest. It could be their final mission, all of them knowing one of three things will happen today: They die, Akira dies, or Akira comes back to them, and while they have no idea which one it will be, they have steeled themselves for any and all possibilities. Back into Mementos, back into the cathedral, now fighting through zealous shadows that attack them for daring to step foot on holy ground again, but when they find Akira isn’t resting on his throne, they know this has become a full on infiltration. They treat it like always, sneaking over the rafters, hiding in shadowy corners, working deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine structure to find where he must rest in order to avoid the shadows that crowd his nave. Out of the public areas, they find the cathedral full of angels that serve Akira and are single-minded in his protection, particularly against the Thieves that have angered their god so. But their resolve is hardened, no longer fearful as they fight through blood and tears to carve a path to Akira’s private quarters where his personal servants launch one last stand against them. They are hellbent on destroying these invaders but it comes nowhere near the absolute rage felt by every single Thief, tearing them apart to finally find Akira once more, already awake and waiting for them. He’s exhausted now, the smile gone from his face that looks sicker than it ever has, wasting and no longer in the mood to humor them. He draws his scythe without words this time and they know it’s now or never, they would have to fight, wear down whatever resolve he still has left, and return Arsène to him just as Yaldabaoth’s control breaks but before he comes to his child’s aid.

The timing needs to be perfect, Goro having to gauge that opening as he stays in close with the others keeping him protected against any of Akira’s blows. The fight is a desperate one, Akira clearly burning himself out by fighting so soon after his punishment for defying Yaldabaoth in saving the Thieves the last they met, but it’s exactly as they had hoped even if it pains them to think what he must have gone through for it. It allows them to reach his breaking point sooner, to rip off that yoke of control where they can hear him, hear their Akira in his voice, and in that second, without a beat between them, Goro breaks through the ranks of the Thieves to summon Arsène. He rushes into Akira, the other boy dropping his weapon as Goro’s hand slams into his chest and all the Thieves huddle in around them, no clue how they could help but lending all their strength and all their pleas to Akira to accept Arsène, to remember himself if only for one second to open his heart again...and Goro feels Arsène leave him, the heaviness of his presence lighting off of his heart. The mark on Akira chest tears again, bleeds once more, but only a moment later it fades...not gone, but now a scar instead of an open wound as Arsène manifests before him once more, asking him to take back his future. The pain it causes Akira is immense, Yaldabaoth roaring in his head and attempting to drown Arsène out, drive him out of his heart once more where only one of them can stay. Akira screams and shudders, collapsing under the weight of a splitting headache...but it feels familiar, like he has been called to this before. He feels like he teeters on the edge of death but Arsène’s voice is familiar...all of their voices are familiar in that instant...he can’t put the memories together, they’re too fractured, but Arsène’s voice drives over Yaldabaoth’s reminding him that he did all of this for them, will he abandon them now and let them die?

Never. Akira will always save them, no matter the cost.

Led only by his emotions, he takes Arsène’s contract to expel Yaldabaoth from his heart in an effort that sees him fold in on himself entirely where Goro catches him, the cathedral beginning to crack and collapse around them like the Palace of a fallen ruler. They move quickly, rushing from the quickly disintegrating building and the palpable anger of a god that’s had his most devout servant stolen from him by Thieves. This is the point at which the Bad End AU splits into its good or bad ending (NO I haven’t decided on what is the “true” ending skdfd) – Akira either dies shortly after these events or he continues to live on in order to assist them in felling Yaldabaoth. If Akira dies, he does so just as they reach the end of Mementos – he tells them he doesn’t have the strength to go on in reality and even now, his body is only sustained by feeding off of Mementos, off of what Yaldabaoth continues to give him. As a last bid to help them, through pained and breathless apologies as a fever grips him and his vision begins to fade out, he uses what’s left of his strength to reopen the Velvet Room and return Morgana to the Thieves, as well as have Lavenza and Igor’s aid as Goro must work in his stead now. He apologizes for this, especially to Goro, thinking...they must have made a promise like this before, right? Goro is stained with his blood by now, coated in the smell of fresh roses as the Velvet Room door opens once more and Morgana rushes out, desperate to help, to guide, to give them hope...but he knows he’s too late seeing Akira’s limp and fading form held fast in Goro’s arms. Lavenza comes behind him, passing by Goro’s shuddering frame as he squeezes Akira, holding him tighter and tighter like that will keep him there with them, and she sits beside him. Akira apologizes to her too, in a voice so quiet only she and Goro can hear, and she forgives him, telling him she always knew he would make the right choice in the end while Morgana comes to join her. He gets in close to Akira, telling him how proud he is and how he doesn’t need to worry anymore – Morgana will lead them all to victory and he can just get some sleep...he’s tired, right? Akira nods, smiling again as Morgana presses in against him and the last things he can feel are Morgana’s comforting warmth and the safety of Goro’s arms before he leaves Yaldabaoth in capable hands.

Should Akira live, however, they reach the edge of Mementos just the same and Akira unlocks the Velvet Room as well, but he instead informs them he can’t possibly exist in reality. He asks them to just leave him to his fate for rebelling against Yaldabaoth, but Morgana and Lavenza arrive to offer him shelter in the Velvet Room which, now free of the god’s control thanks to Akira, he should be safe in as Yaldabaoth will find it impossible to reach. The Thieves know it’s their only choice, very aware that they’ll die if they stick around to think about it too much longer, and so they leave Akira in the hands of the Velvet Room before exiting the Metaverse at Lavenza’s insistence that they go home for a rest – Morgana will contact them the following day to coordinate their efforts. Akira escapes to the Velvet Room, finding himself exhausted and confused to the point that he immediately collapses and spends the next full day asleep. Morgana sticks close to him, only leaving when Akira wakes once more and he needs to go into reality to fetch the other Thieves for a full meeting after all this time.

When they arrive, all of them are ready to rush to Akira, to welcome him back and have a mini celebration for his return...but he’s not healed the way they all expect. He looks no different and he informs all of them he has no memory of them, not even a sliver beyond splintered pieces that flash without his consent that he cannot piece together, and he is not at all human. But Arsène, all of his memories were whole...Akira just shakes his head, suspecting Arsène sacrificed quite a bit in order to fight with Yaldabaoth for his rightful place, so while Akira can feel again, while his rebellious will has returned and he feels an unspeakable amount of betrayal toward his father, the specific memories of his human life are gone. He informs the Thieves that he trusts them implicitly and he will fight for them and their ideals, so they can figure out the rest once Yaldabaoth is...gone, but his voice is full of obvious reluctance and immediately Goro states he’s too much of a liability to go into battle with against his “father”. The Thieves object instantly, saying it’s Akira’s right to stand up against him just like all of them have done in the past and that they believe in his trust of them, that he initially did all of this for them. Akira nods, however, noting that Goro’s point is one based on logic and could be correct – While Akira has regained some of his heart, it is broken in a sense and he doesn’t wish to hold the group back from what they must do. The risk of him bowing to Yaldabaoth’s control isn’t minimal either, so he would ask to act as support and perhaps provide an expert source of navigation for their return to Mementos, given that he understands it as it is really just a part of himself. No one had expected Akira to jump back in as leader, exactly...but to hear him say he would act in a support capacity without fighting to go up against the one who wronged him so terribly is unnerving to the Thieves. It’s just...not how Akira would act. They try prompting him further but his response stays the same – Goro is being logical, he shouldn’t be on the frontlines. Morgana takes over for him at that point, saying it most likely is for the best to let Akira act as he thinks he should with a threat like this looming over all of them. Still, despite the Thieves being put off by an Akira that seems more like a shell than the friend they knew...they have Morgana back and Akira is there to help them at the very least, and they need to take victories where they can. Goro isn’t so easily sated, but he knows he needs to swallow his emotions for the time being too.

Truthfully, Akira knows it may not even be the best logical answer to allow him to go along with them at all as he feels Mementos churning and twisting, having already taken a small private trip before the Thieves had been gathered to see the agitation in the shadows there (just to the first floor, just out of the curiosity that has always plagued him), yet they still don’t move to attack him. He’s slightly puzzled by the development, but he knows it’s something to do with the public’s cognition along with...his father’s, but he has been cut off from Yaldabaoth’s thoughts, and so he doesn’t pursue the question any further for it is not his place to guess at the divine. Akira still believes in the divinity of Yaldabaoth, that he is indeed a god that was born of people’s will, and it’s difficult to accept the fact that he’ll soon be standing by the Thieves’ side in opposition even if he now does believe his father is wrong. Even still thinking of him as a parent, as the one that provided for and protected him...knowing that going to him now with his convictions set to aid the Thieves meaning that either they or his father will have to die. But he can’t let humanity suffer under his cruel and callous rule, he can’t let him drain humans of their independence and their right to grow and change, because Akira knows it’s not out of care for them but instead hatred for their failings. Even in his faltering resolve, he knows what is right and what is wrong...and Yaldabaoth, his father or not, is wrong.

And, though he senses love and devotion from the Thieves, he senses their discomfort with him as well, their fear of him and the way they emotionally recoil when he speaks (he doesn’t have human speech patterns down, so his intonation is still odd and flat). Goro is particularly repulsed by him, lashing out at him and criticizing him while the other Thieves quickly rush to his defense despite the obvious misgivings of their own...but he feels a depth and breadth of emotion in Goro focused solely on him that is nearly alarming to a being like Akira. And for his part, he feels love and devotion to all the Thieves, but it simply lacks context, the memories that would provide him understanding and the human capability to experience emotion to provide him clarity...and similarly, his feelings for Goro are profound and complex, ones he can barely understand and parse let alone come to label in neat categories. All of this mixed emotion dictates to Akira that he must remain strictly as a functional unit of the group, providing them aid and navigation when needed without adding anything unnecessary that may cause strife and therefor miscalculation. The Thieves themselves feel deeply guilty for their own anxiety around Akira, but...he truly isn’t their leader, he isn’t their friend, yet they understand how much of an effort he’s making now to support them. There will be time to heal after all of this and that thought keeps them going as Morgana helps bridge the gap between them, helps ease all the tension they feel in order to work with Akira the way they need to. Only Goro seems resistant to it, but they do know why he, out of all of them, would struggle the most with what’s become of Akira.

They don’t really have the luxury of waiting and getting used to each other, however, Yaldabaoth moving forward with what he had decided on Christmas Eve now that he’s lost Akira. Akira knows his plan, that he will force the real world to fuse with the Metaverse now that the bridge between himself and reality is gone – humanity was judged to be sinful and only granted a reprieve because Akira worked so tirelessly to instill Yaldabaoth’s ideals into the public. So with only some rest, the group can wait no longer as reality bends around them to resemble the Depths of Mementos and, with the Thieves receiving some guidance from the Velvet Room, they move forward to save humanity one last time. Akira does well to mind himself, assisting in tactical orders or, if he finds his mind buckling, keeping himself silent to focus on blocking out Yaldabaoth’s ideals, his insistence, his voice ringing in his ears still. He can manage with the help of Arsène and Futaba by his side but the further they go, the closer they get to his temple, the more silent he becomes and the seed of doubt planted in the Thieves grows little by little...but still, they push forward, they know Akira can overcome this. However, they know all too well that the real test starts when they reach the shrine of the Holy Grail, when they once again face the god that had held him captive and stolen his human life, the very will from his heart. Goro strongly suggests Akira leave them before they do so, but in his first show of true emotion, true conviction, he rejects the idea immediately, saying he will never be free if he doesn’t enter that temple with them...if he doesn’t find closure with his father. He can’t falter now, he can’t afford weakness, or he will surely wither when this world disappears with Yaldabaoth – and he will not betray them. The Thieves all agree after some contemplation and Morgana’s blessing, Goro the last to accept Akira’s presence but there’s something different in his eyes when he watches the other boy now before they enter the shrine.

Their final confrontation arrives, the Grail shining brilliantly in the center of the shrine surrounded by his devout followers and Akira is immediately inundated with thoughts that are not his own, Yaldabaoth’s voice booming against his skull in reprimands, in disgust, in hatred for him. He speaks to the Thieves too but Akira knows his words to them are different and they begin their fight, attacking him from every angle in blows Akira can faintly feel ghosting over his own body. He grits his teeth against the lashes, all of them paling in comparison to the fight to continue controlling his own body under the oppressive weight of Yaldabaoth’s presence encroaching on his heart. There will be a place for you, my child, there is always a place for you by my side to join in my reality...Repent. Repent and return to me if you wish to protect not just these humans but the ones scattered in every corner of the world, the ones who will suffer without you. Repent, or they die along with you. His father is growing angrier, wrathful toward the rebellious Thieves before him and the son that has abandoned him, soon no longer wishing to humor them as he takes his true form, the one they had seen come to Akira’s aid that day in the cathedral. Akira has fallen to the floor, clutching at a chest with a wound that’s reopening, little by little the flesh tears and begins to bleed around his fingers as his resolve wanes in all the pain he feels, in the guilt he feels at his betrayal and the grief he can feel in Yaldabaoth. What a terrible child, what an ungrateful child...what a cruel child to strike at the god that had protected and nurtured him so.

The Thieves stand up against him even now though, the blows they level against him growing more and more painful to Akira, his thoughts breaking apart as he forgets, Arsène’s voice growing weak and distant and Yaldabaoth’s growing ever more powerful...and he finds the pain fading as he takes up his scythe, as the name “Akira” flickers out of his mind. Akira opens his eyes to look up, to see the Thieves bloodied and battered and still fighting as Yaldabaoth rains an onslaught of devastation onto them only for them to support one another, protect the weakened to heal them while the others attack with a ferocity that one exhausted and drained human being should never be capable of. Futaba is focused on the battle in front of her but immediately turns to see Akira as he rises, weapon in hand once more and looking too oddly calm. She calls out to him in fear, the other Thieves picking up on the shaking in her voice and those on the backlines grip their weapons in sweating hands, healing each other once more as the god mocks their sentimentality, their insistence to save those who never asked for them. Akira’s movements are unsteady, each one is fought against as that shred of his heart restored to him screams in protest and while the Thieves are forced to raise their weapons against him again, they know he’s struggling with every swing of his scythe, he’s fighting himself more than he is them. Memories flash, he remembers the fear, the dread of losing his humanity, losing the will to care for the people in front of him now that call to him, who are fighting for their lives but do no harm to him even as he attacks them just as Yaldabaoth commands. But his body is pulled unwillingly, his heart is with him again even if he’s too stupid to remember the people that love him, even if he’s too selfish to keep them safe like he once promised he would. It’s Yaldabaoth’s bid to control him but he is no longer a part of Akira...he can’t be, his heart belongs to him and him alone, and he can’t afford to cause suffering to those that would risk their very lives to return it to him...even if they go against the people and even if they are sinners. That’s what Yaldabaoth would say, but he lied, time and time again he told malignant untruths to Akira, who now does his best to keep standing even as that excruciating pain returns to him in punishing waves. It’s the least he can do, stand with them as they do all the heavy-lifting for him, lower the scythe he can raise at them but not Yaldabaoth still...he wonders if he was this pathetic in his human life, but then isn’t that just like a human? Having to lean on others?

But he is quickly punished for his endless defiance and his wicked treachery, for the very thought that he should admire human weakness. His vision shutters, the sounds around him ripped away, even the feel of the wind battering against him is stolen with such speed and such force it’s almost painful, every sense suspended. Numb even to pain he wishes would come back. Complete deprivation. Akira has felt it, it’s not the first time Yaldabaoth has taken every sense without warning as a way of breaking his hysterias...so they are not totally severed, are they? He closes him off to everything, allowing only the experiences he deems appropriate, usually just his voice, his words after Akira has experienced a loneliness so penetrating he’s on the edge of losing even the false identity of The Son. But here, the silence, the lack of existence, only lasts long enough to remind Akira of all he has suffered, of all he has had, before Yaldabaoth’s voice speaks to him, no longer roaring, no longer shaking him with the very sound of it, but instead how he would speak to him in the days they spent in the Depths alone, only together surrounded by shadows. It’s stern, but it doesn’t have that hostility, it is only for him even if he knows his father must still be striking at the Thieves, working every second to kill them while he comes quietly to his child. He will have no place with them, he is no longer human and he will only repulse those he fights for now, the ones he now swears allegiance to will abandon the unnatural child...it is in human nature to do so. He asks that he repent, that he assist Yaldabaoth is killing Thieves that will only betray him, and the child can return to his only home in the Depths of Mementos, the human who’s heart has stopped and who’s blood is now made of the Holy Grail’s ichor. They are of each other and the two cannot be split, not after Akira’s resurrection through his elixir, and no measure of rebellious will, no measure of human stubbornness, the refusal to admit loss and all the deficiencies and fallacies of mankind, can bring Akira the humanity that has died. So he faces the choice of rejoining his father now, swearing his loyalty and returning his control to the god he is bound to, or Yaldabaoth will offer him the mercy to kill him with the others, to put him out of his misery if he chooses to drive himself mad by aligning himself with humans when he can only be rejected by them. But Akira can feel Yaldabaoth’s grip loosening, not because he wills it but because Akira’s own heart is interfering, gnawing at his power over him and allowing his senses to filter in little by little. Yaldabaoth’s offer, rejoin or perish here, show that his yoke has been thrown off of Akira’s shoulders – he cannot simply kill the Thieves and take Akira for himself again, he must return willingly...and so he appealed to his emotions, threatening him with loneliness, the exact punishment he had used on him to great effectiveness time and again.

But it’s enough. Maybe Akira will always be alone like this, maybe the humans he fights for now will leave him, but he tells his father it’s okay as his sight flickers in and out, muffled, distant sounds reverberating in his ears...because as much as he is no longer human, he is not like Yaldabaoth either, is he? Yaldabaoth is disgusted by him in a way too, he hates the human parts of him that react with emotion, that are irrational and distracted by hobbies, undeserving of the halo around his head in Yaldabaoth’s eyes. Yet his father asks that he stay with him, continues to reach out to him even as he actively opposes him and it is not a functional request - Akira knows Yaldabaoth does not believe he needs him by his side to destroy the Thieves, nor does he fear his child could be his downfall if he does not rejoin him...instead, Yaldabaoth feels richer with him, a fulfillment when they speak together, and he had learned to attach himself to something so imperfect, something that angered him, repelled him, something he should hate and yet felt what, in his own heart, could be thought of as the opposite. So why not the humans too? They will reach out to him, they will feel richer for knowing him, but they will not punish him so for the things they hate about him...and Yaldabaoth has grown malignant in his hatred for humanity, those he is meant to save from suffering. Even as The Son, a being meant to believe only in the word of his father, Akira knew of this hostility, always aware in some part of himself that it was wrong no matter how many times he may have forgotten that. So...weren’t all their arguments just leading up to this? His senses continue to return, flooding into him as he admits to his father this fight is what he wants, he wants to stand in opposition to Yaldabaoth, to the father that retracts his hand now in anger, in insult, in pain of rejection. He can hear Futaba shouting frantically for him when focus returns to his features, his slack frame immediately tightening up at the pain that rushes through him again but he remains upright, spine stricken straight as pearl-like eyes stay fixed to the blinding angles of Yaldabaoth who redoubles his efforts to destroy the Thieves that have stolen the one thing he may have ever cared for.

But there’s a moment as he stands by and watches, eyes moving to follow the movements of the Thieves, that it seems they...his friends...have a chance, it seems they really may be able to stand against his father and triumph...but it’s short-lived. He strikes them all down, each one of their bodies striking the earth beneath them and they can’t move, they can’t stand even though he can feel their struggles, their desperation to just get up one last time, their despair when their bodies refuse to obey. Now only Akira stands behind them, a coward who can feel Yaldabaoth’s gaze on him, burning into whatever soul he may have left, who mocks him for rejoining these pitiful thieves, who mourns the fact that he must kill him now with the others for his foolishness...to lose his child so pointlessly, even a god must grieve for him. Akira chokes on his words, wanting to encourage them to stand again but he can’t, how can he ask so much of them when he’s contributed nothing? And yet...it rises up in him, but he realizes it’s the cognition of the people, of the public as Morgana joins him to stand again and refuses to fall before Yaldabaoth, no matter how many times he may strike him down. Human hope. Human hope, which Akira so deeply admired, now stands up to his father small...but growing. It flickers but Akira can feel it too, he can feel what Yaldabaoth stole from the people, from his friends, from himself, and he begins to straighten his stance again even against the pain blooming from his chest. It’s hope, but hope fueled by anger, by a righteous fury unlike anything he felt working for his father, and Arsène’s voice overtakes Yaldabaoth’s as he can’t bear to hear anymore of his sanctimonious lecturing when he stole Akira’s very heart. Human hope and human anger, human rage at cruelty and unfairness, it overtakes him, a sin! A sin, Yaldabaoth screams at him, a sin to feel such wrath, feel it no more! If the Thieves cause the child to commit such grave atrocities, they will die to cleanse him and force his repentance at the time of his own death.

No more. No more victims, not him, nor the Thieves that saved him, nor the humans he abandoned.

His body burns and it’s licked with blue flames, Arsène appearing at his side as shocks of black return to his brilliant white hair, light, barely there irises showing in eyes no longer blind. The public rises up behind the Thieves, Morgana standing first and the pain is fading from Akira’s body, the others rising in obvious agony as his scar stitches itself up once more and he can no longer hear Yaldabaoth in his head, his voice only on the outside now, only what the other Thieves can hear. He walks forward to join them, raising his scythe as he finally speaks, tells Yaldabaoth this must end, he is no longer in the favor of the people, and if he doesn’t heed what humanity wishes, Akira must be the one to strike him down. An ungrateful child...perhaps so, but he will never be controlled by another, he will never allow himself to abandon his ideals that he fought for and he will not allow himself to ever again forget the humanity he so foolishly lost, so let him be the ungrateful child. And it’s laughable to the Thieves, to Yusuke, to Haru, to Goro who had to do just the same as Akira does now...Goro who stands just by Akira’s side now with barely any space between them, and Akira can feel the spike in anger in his father at the display. They’re not meant for this, are they? Yaldabaoth attempts to strike down the Thieves beside him again but they refuse to fall now, still demanding Akira repent now for joining the sinful masses and Akira rejects his offer, no more salvation. If he wishes to keep humanity in the dark, if he wishes to continue to control them under a vindictive rule, then the son must punish the cruel father.

Akira awakens to his true self then, the one that still sleeps within Arsène – Satanael, the one Akira knows innately as the child of Yaldabaoth in Gnostic lore, the child that works tirelessly for his father until he learns how wrong he is, how false he is, how unfair and resentful he is toward humanity, and he rises up against him to release them before he is cast into hell for his betrayal. The chains of the shackles around his wrists are broken when Satanael is born, taking his stand before Yaldabaoth in defiance for a life lost, for putting his Thieves through so much grief, for nearly sacrificing all of humanity. He cannot take back the mistakes he made, but he can take his stand to save them all now and there’s a quiet moment in that stillness, Satanael leveling his gun at Yaldabaoth’s head, a moment of grief passing between father and son, before Akira allows his persona to pull its trigger and shatter Yaldabaoth, destroy the face that Akira once held a hand in reverence to. And the god folds in on himself, a piece torn from Akira as his life fades out over them and he says his goodbyes to his child, to the one who still somehow came to fulfill his role as the trickster against him. He loses his form, returning to his inert state as the Holy Grail that naturally finds its way back to Akira, floating quietly before him in silent moment of reflection until he reaches out his hand and it dissolves. Ripped open, taken from, and now healed just a bit again...what remains of Yaldabaoth is now a part of him, his humanity forever gone. But in this state, with the will of the Thieves that gather around him now, he can rewrite the world as it should be based on their wishes...and so it is done. The Metaverse fades, reality returns to its untouched state, and Morgana, along with Akira himself, are preserved by their wishes and their wishes alone.

Shibuya has returned to normal, the public milling around them seemingly unaware of what they all just accomplished, but Akira can feel now that they are free, at the very least. He thanks all of the Thieves and they return the sentiment instantly, the wall between them and him seemingly vanished, crumbled at least, as they all express happiness at the peeks of black hair and his clothes now changed in reality, meaning he has some solid form again. He’ll keep getting better and so will they, so they insist they’ll see him tomorrow and absolutely, no questions about it, spend some time at Leblanc to catch up (he’ll love the coffee, they know it). He smiles again, this one more full and more earnest despite his grief, accepting their offer but wishing to return to the Velvet Room for now, too exhausted to carry on and the Thieves all agree...but as the group splits off and he watches his new but familiar friends leave in contentment, in relief, in a renewed sense of trust in him, he sees that Goro doesn’t follow suit with them. He’s quiet, but only because Akira senses a weight on him, one he can’t sort through himself and while Akira can’t fathom the correct human response, he instead just asks if he’ll be there tomorrow too...at Leblanc, a name he thinks he knows, that feels safe...he adds that he hopes he will be when Goro maintains his silence at the question. There’s a moment of hesitation but there’s a shift too, a small bit of surprise, before Goro looks toward him to nod with a faint but sharp smile, adding that he hopes Akira won’t forget before he takes his leave as well. And while Akira still feels so many volatile emotions in him, something did change between them before Yaldabaoth...and he needs to understand who he was, who they were, and without knowing why or how right now, he knows Goro will be integral in regaining what he gave away. He leaves the bustling square only when Goro’s been swallowed by the crowd, exhausted but with Morgana padding along at his heels in high spirits (but sooo ready for a cat nap, he says). And while it will be slow, while Akira distinctly feels he will never be human again, he knows now each step back will be one into his old life, into his friends’ lives, into what he and Goro share, and he can take his time.

#THIS WAS SO LONG AND I AM LIKE...NERVOUS ABOUT IT #is this how the lore works NO....but here i am #YES we still have those ridiculous friendship and romance tropes SORRY....#big clown hours bc i made myself sad writing that part between akira and yaldabaoth #yaldabaoth really does think of akira as his kid BUT he's a terrible parent #and akira does see him as his dad but he knows he and humanity deserve better #also i decided on satanael still remaining as akira's ultimate persona #it REALLY suits him in the bad end au if u can believe it #but that's all everyone!!! thanks for reading!!#p5 #akira kurusu #yaldabaoth #bad end #bad end synopsis

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s-mething-mbti · 3 years

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Hiya! I just discovered your blog and was wondering if you could help try to type me (sorry this is pretty long)

1. I’m currently pretty torn between the intuitive introverts. I was able to narrow it down to INTJ, INFJ or INTP. I’m about 97.2% sure I use Ni. The only thing that’s giving me a bit of doubt is I find myself occasionally learning for the sake of learning which I’ve found is a traditionally Ne trait. Despite this I’m still pretty sure I use Ni as when I go down a rabbit hole and start learning for the sake of learning its always about a topic that interests me or is entertaining. I won’t waste my time learning about something I find mundane or drab. I resonate a lot with Ni’s “aha” moments where the correct answer simply pops into my head or a vision suddenly seems clear or a plot holes solution suddenly seems painstakingly obvious. I also resonate with starting out with a broader range of information/ possibilities and narrowing it down to one or two things. Another intuitive thing I highly relate to is living in the future. If almost never living in the present, and a constantly fixate on the future. I have a distinct, clear, and well thought out plan for the next 20 years (give or take).

Where I run into a bit of trouble is when I try to figure out which judging functions I predominantly use. It honestly feels like I use them all (though I know you’re only supposed to be able to use two well). For example I plan out everything, and set deadlines for myself. My desk often seems really messy to others especially when I’m doing art. This isn’t because I don’t value cleanliness, but because it simply makes more sense to keep all my art supplies out rather than having to spend at least fifteen minutes taking them out and then putting them away only to take them right back out the next day. I set goals based off of easily measurable, external things such as time, or grades. I make daily to do lists that outline everything I’ll need to do in the day, and some stuff to focus on if I have extra time. With my to do list I also plan out the approximate time each thing should take. When coming up with a scientific theory, I take others opinions/theories and test them against each other, and current scientific laws in order to formulate the most probable theory. External opinions (in a scientific/ logical manner) mean a lot to me (I don’t really care about how people that aren’t my friends think of me). To me these things seem very Te. But then I’m always smiling and am a fairly warm person. I want my friends to be happy, and I want to help others. I despise emotionally driven conflict(though I love debates), and while I’m not afraid to disrupt it if it threatens my morals/ is promoting something blatantly wrong (factually or morally) I do really harmony. These seem like pretty Fe things to me. As for Fi, I rarely share my negative emotions, preferring to deal with them predominantly alone. While I may not talk about them much I also have EXTREMELY strong morals. If something is crossing them I’m not going to simply ignore it for the sake of harmony. While I tend to be private I do try to be as authentic as possible. My morals are derived by information I’ve collected and decisions I’ve made myself, rather than being derived by ‘the groups’ collective morals if that makes sense. To me these things appear to be very Fi. As for Ti, sometimes I enjoy learning simply for the sake of learning. The knowledge may have no practical use to me but if I find it interesting or want to learn about it I can devote hours to it. I try and come to the most logical/accurate conclusion possible, and when I’m offering advice I may offer additional advice that takes different variables into account. The truth is really important to me as well.

2. Reading. I absolutely ADORE reading(specifically fantasy/sci-fi/dystopian books or research/scientific articles about topics that interest me). For reference there was a period of time when I had some free time and I was reading 2 or 3 books a day? Read maybe 50 books in the span of 20 days? But yeah I absolutely love reading. Just he way the book sucks you in and deposits you and a completely new world full of wonder and disaster and ugh it’s just magnificent. And don’t even get me started on impeccable character development and eeee. The way rereading a book feels like you’re reconnecting with an old best friend or going back to your childhood home and *sobs*. I also LOVE trying to predict plot twists and character deaths. Most of the time I can predict things correctly and idk it’s really fun to just try and figure out what’s going to happen before the big reveal. And the rush of satisfaction you get when you’ve guessed something right- it also helps me brace for character deaths (sorta. For example I knew *the* death in the final empire [by Brandon Sanderson] was coming since nearly the very beginning [I had my suspicions since the moment vin was introduced] but I still sobbed when the character died. [a tad off topic but what caused me to cry wasn’t the death itself but another characters reaction to it. This is often the case I find. A death of a character I love leaves me feeling empty but what typically gets me to cry is the others reactions- for thus reason funerals usually make me cry. I should also add that I only cry when I’m alone. I’ve cried around people (that aren’t my parents) a grand total of 1 time.]

Uh and daydreaming. I’m almost always daydreaming. Ie. if my brain was a search engine or whatever one tab would be reality and I would consecutively have at lest 20 other tabs open. Some of then playing videos (daydreams) others supplying music(if I’m not actively listening to real music my brain cycles through songs I have memorized. Occasionally does this with book scenes too if I’m bored [yes, I memorize some of my favourite scenes, word for word, so I can play them like a movie in my head when I, bored) others containing random info (just me thinking random stuff) etc.

3. I guess how to solve some problems? Wether it’s a math or science problem, or an argument between friends, figuring out how to solve things has always been something I’m decently good at. Math and science just. Make sense. And then with issues between people I’m good at looking at different perspectives (even ones that I don’t agree with) and playing out different scenarios/ possible outcomes of different approaches. This lets me come up with a solution that will successfully solve the problem with the least amount of negative ramifications involved

4. Hmm maybe being present? I honestly feel like life is passing me by and I’m just immobilized on the sidelines. Im so far into the future that I kinda forget to actually *live* every once in a while.

5. Honesty? Truth? Morals? These topics are all really interesting as they can be kinda subjective. The line between honesty and cruelty is so small. What is truth? Cause while yes, we have some set truths (such as the earth is orbiting the sun) so many ‘truths’ are simply subjective and completely depend on ones perspective. And morals my goodness. The stormlight archive is a really fun series that plays around with things like what is justice? And honour? I won’t get into it now but it brings up so many really interesting questions regarding morals.

6. Perspective . I think perspective is such a fascinating thing. Just. Different opinions. Seeing the world through completely different lenses. Interpreting the same thing in utterly different ways. When toying around with an idea I find it really fun to try and imagine opposing perspectives. While I can find different perspectives really interesting, they can also well... get on my nerves to say the least. Sometimes someone perspective is just? So blatantly wrong? And has absolutely no factual evidence backing it up? And part of me wants to just just scream and it would be so much easier if everyone just. Assessed the facts in front of them instead of making wild accusations or whatever without anything to support them. But yeah overall I think perspectives are really cool and they’re part of what helps to make the world diverse and life so much less interesting without different perspectives.

The future. I’ve found a bunch of my friends find thinking about the future stressful but if I’m being honest I find solace in thinking about the future. Having things planned out and knowing what I intend to do/ where I want to go takes off so much stress. I lowkey live in the future and I honestly cannot wait till it comes, and I achieve my goals. While I might be a bit scared the future excites me so much more than it’ll ever scare me.

7. Maybe add some more stuff about the judging functions and feelings and thinking etc . I absolutely adore science and math. I literally do math for fun. I’m currently aiming to get my PhD in astrophysics.

Not sure if this is relevant at all but my biggest (harmless) pet peeves are my grandmother’s door stopper (it always gets stuck in the door and then u can’t get it out and the door won’t close properly- I have an unhealthy amount of hatred for that thing AHAHJSEJKSMDJDJDJJ) and when people say some variant of “you did good”. Like nO NO YOU DID NOT DO gOoD. YOU DID W E L L (Anyways theres my little mini rant).

I’m my friend groups therapist (sorta). While I’m really not good with words and recycle the same three responses I always let everyone know that I’m here for them and they can talk to me without judgement etc. While I really don’t know what to say or do I try my best because I care about my friends and want to help them. I love them and so I want them to be able to be happy. Im always smiling (though this is more so because people don’t ask me how I’m doing when I look happy than because I’m genuinely happy. Most of the time I’m he farthest thing from that). I’m a pretty warm person who’s always happy to help, however I’m very introverted. I haven’t had a single conversation with the majority of people in my class (I’ve had a convo with maybe 5. Talk to 2 regularly. There are 26 people in my class). I never express negative emotions (with the exception of stress- I panic intensely in the 5 minutes immediately before taking a test as this helps me to completely turn off my nerves while I’m writing the exam. I may also make a joke or two about my negative emotions with close friends). I should also add that when making decisions I value logic more and think thinks through thoroughly, examining the pros and cons etc. While I take feelings and emotions into consideration when making decisions they’re more like an additional variable to consider rather than the main driving force that determines my decision. If I’m feeling really emotional and I need to make a decision I will postpone deciding until I feel more levelheaded. I’m really not impulsive in the slightest.

Thank you so much!!

INTJ

Living in the future rather than the present and your comfort in that sapce, your ability for and enjoyment of making predictions, your ability to really understand and try on different perspectives you don’t necessarily agree with, your focus on “ramifications” (aka future implications) while problem solving - this all points to high Ni.

You also show a Te preference - goals based on external metrics, to-do lists for daily tasks, logic based on the outer world (external opinion). When you said “While I take feelings and emotions into consideration when making decisions they’re more like an additional variable to consider rather than the main driving force that determines my decision” - that is a clear cut definition of Te over Fe preference.

Your tertiary Fi shows through here as well - willing to disrupt harmony if it upsets your morals, your morals being personally derived, needing to understand your emotions while alone. And lastly, your statement about “forgetting to live” from being in the future is pretty textbook inferior Se.

#ask #type me #intj #mbti #myers-briggs #Anonymous

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fanfictionaries · 4 years

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A Fine Line Between Lust and Hate - jbbuckybarnes Birthday Challenge

Thank you to @jbbuckybarnes for this fun writing challenge! Congratulations on over 900 followers and also happy 21st birthday! It’s a fun age, enjoy it!

Prompt 1: Bookstore AU

Prompt 2: “Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Pairing: AU Bookstore!Bucky Barnes X female reader

Summary: If there was one person you hated more than anyone else in the world it was James Buchanan “Call Me Bucky” Barnes. Or at least, you thought you did. As Bucky continues to press your patience, it becomes unclear as to whether it’s hate you feel, or lust.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, doggy style, oral (male receiving), NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Man, I do love a good rousing debate over literature.

***

You stood in one of the long aisles as you worked on putting the store’s most recent influx of donations on the shelves. The endless rows of historical memories stretched high above your head and all around you. However, the large stack in front of you currently sat untouched, a copy of Ernst Jünger’s Storm of Steel held tightly in your grasp, as you watched the events occurring at the front desk. Your coworker, James, was leant casually against the counter, once again ignoring his work duties as he openly and obnoxiously flirted with the woman in front of him.

God, you hated him. You hated his stupid long hair that he pulled up into a stupid bun. You hated his stupid tight jeans that hugged his thick thighs and his stupid red Henley that accentuated his muscular shoulders and arms. You hated his stupid handsome face that only fueled his overall cocky attitude. God, you absolutely hated James Buchanan ‘Call Me Bucky’ Barnes.

You hadn’t set out to hate him of course. Quite the opposite in fact. When your boss informed you of a new employee who wasn’t a billion-year-old woman, you had been ecstatic. Not to say you didn’t love Lucille, but to finally meet a person close to your age that loved books so much they were willing to work at the musty, expansive bookstore was a dream come true. For years now, you’d found yourself spending more time alone, tucked into the rows of books than you did with anyone your own age. You’d think that the kitschy bookstore would be a draw to the younger individuals in town, with the rise of intellectualism or at least the guise of intellectualism within today’s youth. Not to mention, the fact that it was nestled in between the cutest antique store and 50’s style diner. But, alas, it didn’t seem to be on trend for your town. Instead, you got the odd stragglers of older individuals who still enjoyed reading physical books, and local community college students looking to either sell or buy books for classes. That’s why the idea of coming into work every day to a coworker you could relate to was beyond wonderful. However, it hadn’t taken long for James to get so far under your skin, you practically wore him like a pair of itchy long johns.

It had started with his complete disregard for the books and their safety. As a self-proclaimed bibliophile, you took great pride in the care and safety of the books in the store. They were a mix of new and used, the older ones coming into your protective arms the moment you clocked the torn corners and dog-eared pages. You spent hours restoring them before putting them out to be appreciated by the next reader. That’s why, on his third day there when you’d spotted him using his copy of Catcher in the Rye as a coaster for his iced coffee, you’d nearly had an aneurysm. You wished that the situation was a one-time thing, but every time you turned a corner, he was bending spines, creasing pages, WRITING in the margins. He was a book sadist.

Then of course, there was the lackadaisical way in which he approached his job. Not once, not twice, but ten times in the last three months you had stayed late finishing work that had been assigned to him. Why did you do it, instead of letting him take the fall for shoddy work? Well, because it was always things that needed to be done either before the shop could close or before the shop could open. Closing out the till, turning off all the lights, locking the back door, fixing the displays, picking up the giant stack of books that had fallen near the back, changing a burnt-out light using the very old and very rickety ladder.

And lastly, the one thing you absolutely hated the most about him was just how incredibly flirty he was! From the very beginning, he took every opportunity to hit on you. At first it had been flattering, but incredibly jarring and confusing. What could he possibly want with you? He looked like that and you looked like, well people didn’t really want to date the weird bookstore girl that always smelled faintly of old books. Then, it had all come into focus. James flirted with everyone. Not just you. Everyone. The moment a woman under the age of forty walked through those front doors, James was there with his stupid charming ways; “Can I help you with anything today?” “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in here today?” “I knew a woman of your caliber would have good taste in books.” All the while, he’d chance little glances your way, smirking at you and raising his eyebrows slightly. It was all a game to him. Prick.

“Now, see, that is a fantastic choice. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste,” stated James pointing down at the copy of The God of Small Things that was currently clutched to the woman’s chest in her perfectly manicured hands. You rolled your eyes. Ridiculous. You glanced over again to see James smirking in your direction before he walked the woman to the front door and waved her goodbye, shutting and locking the door behind her. Last customer of the day. You sighed, turning back to the stacks in front of you and swiftly putting the books back into place. The quicker you got this done, the quicker you would be out of there and away from James’ mocking face and overall itchy personality. You continued to put the books away, probably harsher than you should have, as you listened to the faint sounds of James closing out the till. Well, at least he was doing that today. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste, you mocked him in your head, huffing and puffing at just how infuriating he was. You winced at a particularly harsh shove of a book into the shelve. Quickly, you pulled it out and inspect the corners and sides of the hard cover.

“Careful there—” a pair of large hands came into your line of site, snatching the book from your hands “—What did Michael Herr ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” you huffed, turning to grab the book back, but coming up unsuccessful. “Although, I really would prefer it if you didn’t allow customers to stay so late past closing.”

“Why? Got somewhere to be? Hot date?” James asked, circling around you to lean against the bookshelves to your right.

You snorted, “As if that’s any of your business.”

“Come on. Lighten up a little bit (Y/N). She needed help finding a good book for her English class,” said James, pulling the book out of reach as you attempted to grab it back from him once again.

“Okay,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and reaching back down to the stack of books remaining on the cart to your left.

“What? You got something against Indian authors writing about caste relations and cultural tensions?”

“No, but I think if Roy tried to squeeze one more literary device into the text, the book would literally explode. Nobody genuinely enjoys a work where the author is intentionally trying to be clever. It’s obnoxious,” you said as you continued to put the books into their correct spaces as quickly as possible.

“Oh, so I guess you don’t care for Shakespeare then? What about Vonnegut, Anne Rice, Tolkien? Every author thinks they’re clever (Y/N). If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be writers,” said James, crossing his arms and leaning towards you condescendingly.

“That’s-that’s just ridiculous,” you responded lamely, placing the last book in your pile away.

“Oh really? Then please, oh smart one, name a single author who didn’t take themselves so seriously that it didn’t bleed through their work in some way,” James challenged, once again pulling the book in his hands away from your reaching hands.

You stood there, glowering at the man in front of you as you tried to come up with some king of answer. “C. S. Lewis,” you blurted out, wanting to kick yourself at the obviously stupid answer.

A barking laugh left James, “Oh come on. The man spent most of his career preaching Christian values and what it means to be moral. He even went so far as to write a short story on what the afterlife looks like and how to get into heaven. Or are we just going to pretend like The Great Divorce didn’t happen? Just because he wrote a bunch of entertaining children’s stories bathed in Christian symbolism with little effort does not mean that he didn’t take himself seriously.”

His astute criticism caught you off guard and peaked your anger, mainly because to a certain extent he was right. That didn’t mean you were going to let him know that though, “Excuse you! I’ll have you know he wrote The Great Divorce after the death of his wife. What else was he supposed to write about? You know what James—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky?”

“Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Your eyes widened at your outburst. You’d never spoken to anyone like that before in your life. Opening your mouth to apologize, you quickly closed it when James sighed heavily and pushed himself off of the bookshelf. He stared at you, his eyes calculating as he closed the space between you, slamming the good on the shelf behind your head. You jumped, turning so that you faced him head on, your back to the endless rows of books. James placed an intimidatingly large arm on either side of you, bracing himself against oak shelves. You swallowed thickly at the sheer size of him. Your pulse quickened. He had never been this close to you.

“You know what (Y/N)? I think you’re just jealous,” James murmured, tilting his head dangerously low to yours.

“Jealous? Of what?” you asked, your voice embarrassingly breathy, as your head began to swim. He was so close. So close you could smell his cologne, a musky warm scent mixed with the fresh scent of soap and…old books? Subtly, you tried to inhale more of the tantalizing smell without James noticing. But one glance up and you could see that familiar smirk and cocky gleam in his eye.

“Me, and every woman that walks in here ready to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

You gasped at his words, “That’s ridiculous. Why would I be jealous of that?”

“Because you want to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

“I—I do not—I do not want to—I hate you!”

James leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, “Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck me—” His head titled, his lips brushing across your cheek, your jawline, and then to the shell of your ear. “—Just say the word and I’ll take you right there. Right then. Any time. Any day.”

You shivered at the offer. Never had his flirting gone this far. Sure, James had given you a flirtatious smile and charming little comment here and there, but never had he come close to propositioning you. You should say no. You hate him. He’s everything you despise and yet…

“Fuck it.” Rising up on the tips of your toes, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a searing kiss. James’ lips claim yours, never hesitating for a second, as if expecting it. The soft skin of his plush lips a stark contrast to the harsh way in which you both battled for dominance. Every ounce of anger, frustration, and tension that you held towards him fought its way through your body as you nipped, bit, and tugged. James’ hands moved from the bookshelf to your body, gripping your hips and tugging you harshly against him, revealing the same level of pent up aggression. His hands traveled upwards, cupping your breasts through your sweater, roughly massaging them as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Threading your fingers into his hair, you tugged harshly earning you a growl from James. Breaking away from the kiss just long enough to pull your sweater up and over your head, your bodies reconnected, the feel of your bare torso against him feeling oh so right. You continued to hang onto him for dear life, as his kisses left you breathless and needy. Bringing a leg up around his hip, your pelvis rocked against him, searching for any kind of friction as you climbed him like a tree.

“Eager, aren’t we?” James teased, hands moving down to harshly grasp your ass and lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you allowed him to carry you the brief distance away from the bookshelves and lower you onto the rough carpet floor. Trailing kisses down your neck and towards your breasts, he roughly yanked the cups of your bra down before taking a nipple between his teeth. You arched into his mouth, loving the sting as he bit down.

“God, I knew you’d be a fucking little minx,” panted James, sitting up on his knees. “Look at you all sexy and needy. Just had to get you to let go.”

Pushing up onto your elbows, you stared up at him, “Shut the fuck up and take your shirt off James.”

Swinging his hand down, he swatted the inside of your thigh, “The name’s Bucky, babe.”

Your head fell backwards at the contact and your pussy clenched as you moaned low. Sitting up, you ripped his shirt from his torso and threw it behind you before pushing him down onto the ground. You made quick work of removing your bra, shoes, and pants before reaching for his belt buckle. This time it was his turn to push up onto his elbows as he watched your near naked form, undo his belt and then his pants. You tugged at his pants and then his boxers in a desperate manner, James kicking off his shoes and socks to held aid in their removal. Finally, when he was naked before you, you took a moment to admire the lean curves of his muscular form and the thick cock that sat just below his belly button, nestled in a patch of short brown curls.

Running your nails lightly up and down his thighs, you smirked as he writhed below you, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth. Lowering yourself slowly, you positioned yourself between his thick thighs and grasped the base of his cock in your hand, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around the head and swirling your tongue around him. Bucky cursed, low and sexy as you took him in your mouth. You worked him with your lips and tongue as your moved lower and lower. Spit gathered in your mouth as you breathed through your nose, giving your all into pleasuring the man below you. You wanted to once and for all wipe the smirk off of James “Bucky” Barnes’ face. When you made it almost all the way to the base, you hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you massaged the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His hands flew to the back of your head, fingers lacing in your hair and gripping tight. He held onto you for dear life as you attempted to suck the soul out of him through his dick alone.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck! (Y/N),” he yelled, his body shuddering. When you slipped down the last few inches, allowing his cock to slip easily down your throat, he stilled, body rigid before he pulled you off of him with a curse.

You fell backwards onto your hands, spit coating your lips and drool falling down your chin as you breathed in deeply. A low growl escaped James’ throat as he launched himself at you, flipping you onto your stomach, and ripping your panties down your legs. His hands found your center in no time, his fingers delving deep into your core easily, aided by the embarrassing amount of arousal there. James fingered you, curving and finding that special spot inside of you that made your see stars. You yelped, bucking your hips back against him. His teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your ass.

“You’re god damn dripping down my arm (Y/N). Did sucking my cock turn you on that much?”

“Yes!” you admitted, continuing to rock your hips against him. Pulling his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of contact. The loss was only temporary though, as soon James was pulling your hips up, placing you back on your knees, face still pressed against the carpet as he lined his cock up with your entrance. There was no slow and delicate start. No, in one swift thrust, he was seated fully inside of you, hands firmly grasping your ass as he began to fuck you at a punishing pace.

“Fucking hell baby. Your pussy is like a vice-grip. I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he admitted, continuing to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He reached down, finding your clit and rubbing light, fast circles around it until you began to feel the familiar pressure building in your lower abdomen.

“Yes! Bucky! Fuck. Just like that, don’t stop!” you cried, desperate to reach your climax. The carpet scraped against your skin, sure to leave burns after. But you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the delicious stretch of your cunt around Bucky’s cock and your imminent orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Say my fucking name again. Say my name as you cum all around me.”

You chanted his name over and over again, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, until finally you were approaching the edge and falling over. Your body shuddered and hips bucked as you came, loving the feeling of every hard ridge of Bucky’s thick cock inside of you. A few seconds late, he was pulling out of you and then you felt the warm streams of cum splashing across your ass. You collapsed fully onto the carpet below you, Bucky falling after you and rolling to lay beside you. You laid there, in post-orgasmic bliss. The feeling of Bucky’s fingertips trailing up and down your spine soothing you down from your high. After a little while, the two of your stood up and began to redress. Bucky, ever the gentleman, told you to wait as he ran to the front counter and came back with some tissues before wiping up the mess he had made on your ass.

Once you were both dressed, you finished closing up the store. Neither of you spoke, instead choosing to spare the other furtive little glances as you turned out the lights and locked the door behind you both.

“Looks like the diner is still open. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Bucky asked, looking down at you giving you a small, shy smile that you’d never seen on him before.

His question caught you off guard. He wanted to buy you coffee. “Oh, Bucky. You don’t have to feel obligated to—”

“—I don’t feel obligated. I, um, I want to.” He swallowed thickly, almost as if he was nervous. Was he nervous? “I know we just, well, I know we skipped a few steps, but I actually do want to take you out. I’ve been trying to hint it to you for the past three months.”

“So, all the flirting with the customers…?”

“Was me stupidly trying to make you jealous,” laughed Bucky, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

“Ah,” you said, a smiling spreading across your face, “How about you buy me a coffee and tell me all your thoughts on Brontë.”

“How much time do you have?” asked Bucky with an exaggerated groan.

Holding your hand out to him, you reveled in the feel of his warm palm connecting with yours, “All the time in the world.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#jbbuckybarnesBirthdayChallenge #fanfic #fanfiction #bookstoreau #smut #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #marvel

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axelxmartinez · 4 years

Text

(Hi I love to plot, hit me up and let’s chat!)

Introduction @redridgeimp

FULL NAME: Axel Jose Diego Martinez

NICKNAMES(S): Axe, Ax, Diablo

AGE: 33

DATE OF BIRTH: October 30th, 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH: Red Ridge, Nevada

CURRENT LOCATION: Red Ridge, Nevada.

ETHNICITY: Latino. Mexican primarily and his mother was partially Caucasian (European descent), as well as Mexican and Dominican.

GENDER: Cis male.

PRONOUNS: He/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: quoiromantic

RELIGION: Atheist.

OCCUPATION: Owner of Roberto's and Bone breaker for Valencia.

EDUCATION LEVEL: he dropped out of high school in the beginning of 11th grade.

EXTRACURRICULAR: Boxing, lifting weights, playing video games, occasionally reading

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: Owns his parents house, a medium sized single family home with 4 bedrooms, an unfinished basement, nothing to brag about on the south side of redridge

SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT: Deep, smooth voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, especially when he's angry. Normally keeps a steady tone, unless he’s really upset about something.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana

HAIR COLOR AND STYLE: black, shaved short

COMPLEXION: Brown on the lighter side with neutral undertones

EYE COLOR: Brown.

EYESIGHT: 20/30 the last time he checked, he probably could use corrective lenses for driving or reading something but he doesn’t bother with it.

HEIGHT: 6’1” or 185cm

WEIGHT: 169lbs or 77kg

BODY AND BUILD: Muscular, lean, well-defined muscles.

TATTOOS: tons, he gets them at random and the only theme to them is that they are black and white. The obvious ones most people see are the skull on his throat and the ones on his fingers and hands. (See his pinterest linked at the bottom for more ideas in this area)

PIERCINGS: none, he fights too much to have piercings.

CLOTHING STYLE: jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, flannels, button down shirts, primarily black for everything.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tattoos all over his body, small linear scar on his eyebrow where no hair grows, various scars all over his body - some covered with tattoos and some not. Also wears necklaces and rings, has a few random bracelets made by his nieces and nephews.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S): ADD is all he’s been diagnosed with, though he likely has an anxiety disorder as well.

PHYSICAL DISORDER(S): none

ALLERGIES: the pollen gets to him in the spring but he just ignores it

SLEEPING HABITS: insomniac, he sleeps in small shifts between work and whatever he’s doing during the day.

EATING HABITS: Axel has a high metabolism so he eats a lot and often, he tends to pick things up while he’s moving around town and keeps protein bars and snacks in his car for in between meals

SOCIABILITY: extroverted introvert, he tends to be around people but doesn’t go out of his way to strike up conversation unless he feels it necessary, knows the person already, or is spoken to first.

BODY TEMPERATURE: neutral.

ADDICTIONS: Nicotine, Caffeine, some would argue he drinks a little too much but he doesn’t think so.

DRUG USE: Depends on the drug. He smokes marijuana frequently, but anything else is occasionally and he refuses to touch needles or anything made purely from chemicals (i.e. Meth).

ALCOHOL USE: Frequently, usually has a drink or two everyday. Sometimes more, sometimes less. He prefers brandy and tequila but also enjoys beer and will always accept a free drink regardless of what it is.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Hardworking, Efficient, Honest, Strong, Confident, Curious

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Callous, Insensitive, Secretive, Possessive, Withdrawn, Stubborn

LIKES: Fighting, good food, drinking, video games, smoking, sex, most things physical, some reading, fire

DISLIKES: Schools, authority (mainly police), drama, airplanes, inactivity

FEARS: His only fear that he could ever pinpoint was his father.

HABITS: Plays with his fingers, touches his face, staring without talking, smoking, rain

ASTROLOGY: Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Libra Moon

PERSONALITY TYPE: INTJ

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin.

ELEMENT: Fire

WEATHER: Overcast or Sunny

COLOR: Black

MUSIC: Rock, Metal, 90’s hip hop

MOVIE: Documentaries or Action movies

SPORT: Baseball and Soccer

BEVERAGE: Brandy or Tequila

FOOD: Waffles

ANIMAL: Snake

SEASON: Summer

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: Antonia Martinez (Rodriguez)

FATHER: Roberto Martinez, deceased

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none

SIBLING(S): 5 younger siblings, names and ages vague for future wc

CHILDREN: TBD

PET(S): Ball Python named Slinky

PROMPT.

“ROUTINE”: violence tw, death tw

Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was.

With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift.

By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day.

“REMINISCENCE”: violence tw, alcohol tw, blood tw, death tw

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night.

BACKGROUND. ( abuse tw, death tw, violence tw)

Born and raised in Redridge, oldest of six children. Some of his siblings still live in Redridge, others have left and spread around the country. He has a large extended family. They live all over the country, Mexico, and South America.

His father was a very strict man and ran his household with an iron fist. He believed his children should be seen and not heard. If one of them were to step out of line, show defiance, or generally make him angry in any way, he normally responded by correcting them physically instead of with words. He owned Roberto’s, which he started before Axel was born. Roberto was also a member of Valencia working up from street rat to lieutenant. He was arrested when Axel was twenty and died in prison when he was twenty-five.

Antonia, his mother, was a reserved woman. She was hard-working and loved her children. However, she listened to her husband and he was the head of the household. When Roberto went to prison, Axel took over the role of head of the household. His mother fell ill in his late twenties and currently lives in an assisted living facility in Redridge. Axel visits her regularly.

As for his siblings, he keeps up with all of them. One attends the community college and he is adamant that they keep up with their grades and continue their education. He keeps in almost daily touch with each and every one of them and adores his nieces and nephews. Whenever he can visit, he makes a point to but hates to fly so it is usually only once or twice a year at most for those who live outside of Nevada.

School wasn’t Axel’s strong suit. He could never focus and everything just made him feel like he was stupid when he knew he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t book smart. So he dropped out right before eleventh grade and worked at Roberto’s. As soon as he was able to, he joined Valencia as a street rat and moved up the ranks to Bone-breaker once he had proven himself. However, he enjoys doing soldier work still so he will pick up any spare jobs if they are available.

As far as romance goes, Axel has never been with anyone long. He enjoys both women and men and their company, but he has a hard time letting anyone past his walls. The few times he has tried, he fucked it up in one way or another. So, he stays single and just holds casual relationships.

He loves to fight and he is good at making people disappear, getting jobs done efficiently, and intimidation. Axel is very loyal to Valencia.

Currently, he is always on the move. He doesn’t like to be idle for long. So he is either doing work for Valencia or Roberto’s, moving around town, drinking at a bar, eating somewhere, fighting at Rogue’s, at the gym, watching fights, or sleeping in between any of those activities.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends With Benefits/One-night Stands (unlimited): He likes physical activity and touch, he tries to pick people up often and especially after a fight. This could have been happening for a long time or just a night or be brand new.

Best Friend (0/1): This person knows him better than anyone. They just get him and is likely the only person he’s ever opened up to.

Close Friends (0/6): These people know him better than most, but he probably has only opened up about one or two things to them. He trusts these people and likes to be around them.

Employees: Anyone who wants to work at Roberto’s

Budding Romance (0/1): could be a fwb that progresses, someone who’s always been around but neither of them made the move to advance it past anything.

Enemies: Self explanatory, but they always butt heads in one way or another. Possibly have fought in the past, but definitely never have anything nice to say about one another.

Past relationships (0/4): People who tried to break through his walls and didn’t get through. Or they just didn’t work out for any multitude of reasons.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/c-axel-martinez/

#redridgeimp #intro #; about #//have my child #//hope this is okay

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sea-changed · 5 years

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vermiculated replied to your post: vermiculated replied to your post...

I can't believe I missed this until now! wow! Here I am, here you are, there are books and words between us. wonderful. thank you.

<3 <3 <3

I have to tell you that I read Olivia Waite's new ff and it has exactly this problem. It is as though both heroines are mealy-mouthed and forgettable so that the reader won't be offended by reading a book about women. Their only flaws are caring too much, wanting appropriate twenty-first century style recognition (ahistoricism doesn't bother me but as I was reading it, I thought, @sea-changed is going to be livid) and accidentally misunderstanding one another...

also attempted financial abuse. which I mention separately because it added a note of the glass armonica to the music of the spheres. how is ff so inadequate to our desires?

Oh no, this is terribly disappointing to hear; I’d been holding out some amount of hope for this one, though that was probably folly on my part. Why, in a subgenre written by and wholly about women, can the seemingly fairly standard “women are people” concept continually fail to gain ground? I’ll still read this, as it’s waiting for me on my phone and the upcoming semester promises to require mindless stress-reading, but I’ll be extremely irate about it. (I always think I can be magnanimous about ahistoricism in romance novels, which is obviously a lie, but it is good to be known like this.)

re: re: 34, I love the sweeping romantic sentiment because they manage to meet in the middle only when they both understand themselves to be ludicrously devoted. It didn't quite feel like a romance novel, you are correct -- there's a bit of neither fish nor fowl here? I personally feel that the natural second-half plot ought to have been shoring up how Richard and David love one another despite their respective troubled backstories rather than ...

...advancing the political thriller from "A Seditious Affair" and developing a coherent moral world. Which is what novels are oriented toward: why do people do what they do, despite everything? In romance, they do it because they love one another (or they're supposed to) whereas I think more complicated motives such as you discuss are much rarer.

oh, novels!, I say, like I live inside Tony Trollope's vision. I think the book tries to have it both ways and ends up being slightly frustrating for all readers. just write two books, Kimberly! Kimberly is what I call her when I am trying to hector her from afar. dear Kimberly, please have Susan stab Templeton. xo.

“Just write two books” is honestly what it comes down to: it feels like two books, and while I get that the political thriller part allowed David to be David to to requisite degree, after how gracefully it was cleaved to the romance plot in Seditious Affair it felt a bit tacked-on here. And while I’m certainly not opposed to moral ambiguity in my ships, the genre formula seems to require that said ambiguity, if there is any to begin with, be neatly swept under the rug; it’s really the sweeping I have the problem with rather than the ambiguity itself. (Because like, should Richard be fucking his valet? No! That’s a pretty open-and-shut one. Which certainly doesn’t mean I’m opposed to watching it happen, but I’d like fewer bows on my endings, I guess. Did you know Gentleman’s Position was the first book of the series I read, because I thought it had the most interesting-sounding summary? In hindsight this amuses to no end.)

(The accusation that there are similar moral issues and rug-sweeping in Seditious Affair, and that I am simply too starry-eyed over it to complain about them, is potentially quite valid, though because of said stars in said eyes I’m not the one to judge.)

(dear Kimberly, please have Susan stab Templeton --The only way I can see this going down with zero hair torn out of my head, quite honestly.)

re: re: 39, @mysharkwillgoon made the unkind (but accurate) observation that this series is always available at our county library because no one likes it. I recognize that I am utterly alone in how much I enjoy this, and am really pleased that you picked it up and felt the requisite feelings. I know you're not a Victorianist by practice or nature, so it's impressive that you returned to this weird book.

HA, I’ve made this same observation (likely about the same library!), which I’ll admit is satisfying to the part of me that thinks everyone should have my taste, though dissatisfying to the equally clamorous part of me that wants to read Seditious Affair for the sixteenth time and has to wait for it on hold. Weird romance seems to be my favorite kind, so I too am glad I returned to it. Not a Victorianist by practice or nature may have to go on my office wall.

A general query: can literary fiction be experimental enough to reach the logical end-point of the genre or are we still pretending that felicity in art is enough? Why must there be meaning in the world? Perhaps I judge the Booker too harshly: it is only a literary competition, it is not an immurement by orange sticker -- yet every book I have wanted to love from the longlist has given me the same depth of emotion that I feel on regarding ...

...a tray of wrapped zucchini at the grocery store: why are we engaging in such resource-intensive craft! (this is not strictly true. I delighted in A Little Life, it was nothing like plastic on vegetables at all.) To continue, is the worst thing that happened to literary fiction the application of irony? I am no supporter of the genuine, the real, the unmanufactured, yet ironic distance can hardly support so much.

It's not a prerequisite. and it looks like smugness more often than it comes off as wit. I read someone recently saying that the problem in Jude the Obscure is "done because we are too menny" which struck me -- a biased Hardy fan -- as missing the point about art: the place where it happens is an artificial one, but it has greater force for that. it's not a bug, it's a feature!

"somewhat poisonous nostalgia" sick burn, I like it.

Speaking of sick burns, “the same depth of emotion that I feel on regarding a tray of wrapped zucchini at the grocery store” has the devastating combination of being both pithy and accurate. I do find myself regularly mystified about what criteria are used to long-list books in general (the Booker being, I think, a particularly frequent and egregious example): it leaves me to wonder whether a) people who judge these things find being left cold and unmoved a virtue in fiction or b) they are led to feel things about writing I find cold and unmoving. (I tend toward the first, though the fact that people have seemingly genuine emotions about Madeline Miller novels would argue strongly for the second.)

The pitting of irony and emotion against one another is, I agree, one of the central failings of the literary genre: Both! Both are good! As you say, being in a constructed hothouse universe is not to be derided (though certainly poked at), and it does not (or at least should not) lessen the emotional validity of the created world. Have faith in your own creations, you dimwits.

I have been thinking all morning about your observation that none of these books are experimental enough: I thought the French were meant to be good at this. Do you think it has to do with our late uneasiness around teenage sexuality, and that writing a sufficently-complicated teenager such that he is entitled to his own sexual preference means that authors no longer sound unique, ...

... but rather like a series of psychology textbooks. Which can be a pleasure (what's UP, Megan Abbott) yet tends to make these books extremely ... putdownable. Thank you for this, there's really nothing better than having a person with exquisite taste on whom one can rely to read books first.

I do think that there is an essential trouble with alienation in YA novels: so many read as false and/or patronizing, because they’re being written to teenagers rather than about teenagers. (Sometimes this is rectified when adult lit writes about teenagers, but mostly it is not, and certainly not in this case. Here again is a case of irony vs. emotion; if you’re not going to give me emotion, you’ve got to be a whole lot better at irony--or in this case more specifically narrative commentary--than this.)

(On the subject of complicated teenagers having sex convincingly, I was recently a fan of Patrick Ness’s Release, which the author describes it as a cross between Mrs. Dalloway and Judy Blume’s Forever; a comment I’ll let stand on its own sizable feet.)

And there is truly nothing better than having someone to dump your own particular long-winded exegeses on, so thank you for that in return.

ps I read Astray and it was so frail! "disappointingly pedestrian" indeed. If I could write like Emma Donoghue, I guess I would labor under the curse that afflicts her plotting.

For being a book that contained so much that I love--an entire collection of extremely specific and well-researched historical settings!--it was so flat. I know Donoghue can write better sentences, I’m at a loss why she chose to not put any in this collection.

#vermiculated #replies #books tag

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huntertales · 5 years

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Part One: Don’t Say Something You’ll Regret. (Torn and Frayed S08E10)

Episode Summary: Castiel turns to Dean and the reader for help when an angel is being held captive and must rescue him. Meanwhile, Sam is given an ultimatum from Amelia; stay with her or leave and never make contact again. The decision grows complicated when Sam learns a secret the reader has been keeping from him, making him choose between the woman he loves or the family and lifestyle he’s only known. Word Count: 6,474. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You knocked on the motel door of room number one-eighteen that was booked for the night by a man that matched the description of someone who was six-foot four, neck length brown hair and was probably wearing plaid. The person behind the desk instantly knew who you were talking about, he said something about how he used to work here a year or so ago and helped fix up the place with a dog that he accidentally hit. You helped fill in the gaps when he tried to think of the dog's name, you knew Sam had mentioned it was Riot. An Australian Shepard he left in Kermit, along with the woman he loved and a bit of happiness he spent his entire life trying to get. Only to come back when he thought his real life had caught up with the other one he spent such a short time enjoying, in a way that forced him back into all of this the first time he tried a go at leaving it.

You were honestly surprised that Sam opened up the door and only half attempted to slam it on your face when he saw it was you and his brother. You didn't smile, you didn't apologize right away for what you did. Instead you let Sam decide how he wanted things to go. Sam stood in the motel doorway for a moment, his infamous bitch face directed towards his older brother to show off how much he was pissed off at how things ended up here. Dean didn’t take much offense to it as he stepped inside the room, brushing past the both of you as he looked around to see if it had just been Sam. You walked into the room a second later with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Who did you expect?” Dean asked his little brother.

Sam didn’t responded to the question, he slammed the door behind you when he saw that it was the only two people he didn’t want to see. You wondered if he had seen Amelia being able to live a life without him. Maybe the both of them had met up again, and you reopened old wounds for the past couple. Sam stood where he was as Dean walked across the room. “Long drive?”

“Well, I wouldn’t had to make it if you hadn’t have hung up on me.” Dean responded.

“Yeah, well,” Sam said, defending himself for the actions he chose in the spur of the moment. “I heard all I needed to hear.”

“No, you heard what you wanted to hear.” Dean said, feeling the need to take it upon himself to correct his brother’s way of thinking and feeling. It was almost as if he could justify his choices to make them seem like it was the right thing to do. “I told you Benny wasn’t killing. Hell, Y/N watched him end the fangbanger that was.”

“How about Martin?” Sam questioned his brother. “How did he end that?”

“Stupid—just like I said it would. Crazy son of a bitch didn’t give Benny a choice.” Dean said. “It was self defense.”

"Seriously, Dean? That's the story you're going with?" Sam asked in almost a mocking tone from the excuse he was hearing and how ridiculous it sounded. "That the victim was the real victim here?"

"Hey, like it or not, that's the truth, okay?” You couldn’t help yourself but speak up, trying to help guide some direction into this conversation before it turned into an argument. But you knew that it was impossible with the two brothers when they were worked up like this there was no way of talking them down like you hoped for.

“And there was a time when that actually meant something.” Dean said, feeling the need to add that in. As if that was going to change his little brother’s mind.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam agreed for the most part with that line of thinking. “No kidding.”

Dean stared at his brother with a slightly confused expression at the muttered remark, knowing it meant something more. "What does that mean?"

"You think this is just about Benny?" Sam asked his brother.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What the hell do you think I'm talking about?"

"Amelia?" Dean asked, suddenly catching onto the reason why his brother was so pissed off at him. It wasn't just because of the whole Benny situation, but because of a cheap trick he used to get him out of the way. "Oh, come on, man. I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to—"

“You needed me to what? To tear ass to Texas? To be afraid that what happened to Jessica, what happened to…” Sam trailed off for a second as he started to slowly pace around the room, telling you about his worst fear that haunted him like a bad dream for so many years and came right back after he read that text. “Everybody that we care about might have happened to her?”

"You were gonna kill Benny." Dean said. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Is that what we are?" Sam asked. He knew him and his brother were still on rocky terms, but he thought the man was better than to do something so low like this. It seemed that he was wrong to think so highly of his brother, because it seemed the man didn’t feel the same way about him. “You save a vampire by making me believe that the woman I love might be dead?"

“What do you want to hear, Sam? That I was wrong? Fine. I was wrong.” Dean said, apologizing in his own way that he thought was going to fix everything. But it didn’t take an idiot to hear how insincere the words sounded. You gave him a look of disbelief, Sam did everything in his power not to start punching his older brother. Because he really didn’t mean it. “But if you had just heard me out, if you had trusted me, all of this could have been avoided.”

“You didn’t want me to trust you. You wanted me to trust Benny, and I can’t do that.” Sam said, sticking to his morals of how he felt about monsters from his own past experience with them. “Not the way you got Y/N thinking he’s a good guy. Because I know what he is, and what he’s capable of.”

Every part of you wanted to speak up and defend yourself against what Sam said, but you remained silent, because it meant you sided with Dean. And if you mentioned the dangers that Benny brought along, it meant you were siding with Sam. So you remained silent. Because you saw no improvements for the near future. The both of them were so caught up in the past or trying so hard to be a good friend to the person who saved them from the afterlife, they forgot who really mattered the most here. You wandered over to the bed when you felt a dizzy spell hit you out of nowhere, but it went unnoticed by the brothers.

"Okay, well, then," Dean said, knowing for himself that this conversation was getting nowhere productive. Both of them had stated the grounds of how they felt, now it was time to figure out where they went from here. "What the hell do we do now?"

"That depends. It depends on you." Sam said. "On whether or not you're done with him."

“Well, honestly, I don’t know.” Dean mumbled, having the audacity to say such a thing after all that was said and done. Sam seemed genuinely surprised at his brother's decision, and even the slightest bit hurt that he was trying to hide. You couldn't take anymore of this argument if this was where it was going to lead.

Dean knew that Benny was the one person that was tearing the both of them apart, but he was still holding on, trying to be more of a brother to a vampire he spent one year with and saved his life from purgatory. Yes, you agreed to a certain point that Benny was a good guy who didn’t deserve to die again. But you wouldn’t choose him over Sam. And Dean should have known better. Sam was the only family he had left, his own flesh and blood who saved his life countless times on hunts. Who threw himself into the pit and suffered psychological damage and went a year soulless, who had been there pulling him back up to the surface every single time he dragged his feet, wanting to take the easy way out.

None of it mattered anymore to Dean because of what Sam had decided to do last year while you were gone. The younger man was overwhelmed with grief after seeing you die and then Bobby just a short time later, then seeing his brother and Cas disappear into thin air. All of his family he’s ever known was gone...just like that. But then he found Amelia by accident. Two broken people running from their past meet each other after he hit a dog and spend a year together, happy. But it was time to go back to the way things were. Sam made his selfish decisions by not looking for Dean, and the older Winchester had every right to be upset for a short while. But it was time to move on.

You wanted Sam to forget about Amelia, and you never wanted to see Benny’s face again for long as you lived. Because you realized the mistakes you made by feeding into the situation like you always did to make them happy. This was like Sam and Ruby being friends, and Dean wanting to run away to have a normal life. Now they were making the same mistakes both of them made in the past. And they never learned. You could take anymore of this argument.

“So, this is where we’ve ended up? Fighting over vampires and girls?” You asked the two brothers, even though you weren’t looking for an answer. You pushed yourself up to your feet as you stared at the both of them with a look of anger, and even the slightest bit of disappointment at how things were turning out. “After everything. You don’t learn. And you still won’t let it go.”

Sam let out a sigh as Dean rolled his eyes when you spoke up, putting yourself into an argument that he thought didn’t concern you. “Here we go.” “Yeah. Here we go again, Dean. Here we go again with the same freaking argument I’ve been having to hear for the past five months straight! Sammy’s stuck in the past and Dean trusts a vampire over his own brother.” You said, finally speaking the brutal truth that had been lingering between all of you since you got back. Neither one of the boys responded or tried to defend themselves, and it wasn’t like you were going to give them a chance if they tried. They spoke what they felt, now it was your turn.

“I’m not gonna sit around anymore and watch you two rip each other’s throats out for the same crap the both of you did. You want to know the problem is? It’s Amelia and Benny. Both of you need to cut ties with them. Or else we’re never going to see eye to eye anymore.” You said, trying to find some sort of solution that they would have to agree on eventually. "I'm not taking sides anymore. You two need to realize that there's two ways to fix this. Keep doing what you're doing...or realize that this—the three of us—is all we have left. If you want to destroy that for your own personal reasons. Fine. Just think about the future."

You knew it was a bit harsh for being so blunt like this and not giving them much of a choice in the matter of how you wanted them to handle things. But it was just your opinion, and at the end of it all, the boys were the one who were going to have to make the decisions on their own. You could only hope they were going to make the right one. Every part of you wanted to open your mouth and tell them the secret you had been keeping for the past two weeks, hoping it might somehow think about someone other than themselves. But it was always fear that held you back about how they were going to handle it. And you couldn't take anymore stress right now.

"Glad I made the drive." Dean muttered underneath his breath, responding to your advice by brushing it off like he didn't even hear it.

You scoffed from how unreasonable he could be when he got worked up like this, which meant it was going to be an awkward drive. You stood where you were, flinching only the slightest when you heard the door slam behind Dean, leaving you and Sam alone. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked around the room, all before your gaze fell on the younger Winchester and his sullen expression from what you had done. And the actions you took part in that lead the three of you here.

“I thought you had my back, Y/N.” Sam said, speaking up now that it was the both of you. “How could you do this to me?”

"If it's worth anything, I'm sorry. I really am. I was angry at the time from what you said to me. I...I just don't like people thinking that I'm not capable of taking care of myself. You know what it's like for people to put you down." You said. You apologize to him for what you did, but you weren't going to tell him what he wanted to hear or walk on eggshells in order to make him feel better. Sam’s expression changed slightly. His shifting look of anger told you he thought your apology wasn't good enough. You rolled your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "What do you want me to do, Sam? Support you?”

“Well, it’s a start.�� Sam said. You found yourself staring at him like he just grew a second head, making you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I told you how I felt about her and how much she means to be. And you want me to just walk away from her? You know I love Amelia—”

"I know. And I've supported you with every decision that you ever made. Right or wrong, I was right there beside you cheering you on. But...I can’t do it, Sammy. Not anymore.” You said, your voice growing quieter as you told him the truth about why you were forcing yourself not to agree with this. You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared at the man for a moment. In that moment you realized that you might not see Sam again, not in the way you were so used to. In a way that you had grew dependent on. "Because you were right about one thing."

Sam furrowed his brow slightly as his expression changed into confusion from what you meant by that. "Right about what?”

You opened your mouth to finally let out the secret you had been keeping from everyone that you were close to and try to give him some context to why you had been acting so off. But before the two words could slip out of your mouth, they were replaced with the honking of a horn right outside of the motel room. You shut your eyes as you winced, knowing that it was Dean, and he was growing impatient from how long you were taking. You thought that maybe it was the universe telling you to keep the secret you had just a little bit longer.

You started walking until you were at the motel room door with your grip on the handle about ready to open it u and head out, but Sam called out your name, making you stop and look over at him. Eventually he could catch on from what you were trying to say. If he didn't, then you had a feeling he made up on his mind on who he thought was more important to him. "Nevermind. It's not like it matters, anyway."

You opened up the door and headed out of the motel room alone to leave Sam in Texas so he could have his personal space to be with his thoughts. He needed some time to think about the future and what was important. So did Dean. You made your way to the Impala and slid yourself into the passenger seat again, a new arrangement that felt off each time you got into the car. You missed the backseat and its space, the obstructed view of two ginormous bodies occupying the front. Everything about this felt off. But you might have to get used to this. Everything felt like it was coming into perspective. You stared at the motel room door for a moment, resisting the urge to go back in there and drag Sam out of there.

Your concentration to the door was broken when you heard the Impala’s engine turn on, making you turn your head to now stare straight ahead, Dean’s outline in the corner of your eye. You watched as he shifted gears and got ready to pull out of the parking lot, but not before mumbling something underneath his breath he thought would go unnoticed. “About time.”

"I'll take as much time as I damn well please." You responded back to his remark in a cool tone. You turned your head to look at him and give him a dirty glare at his attitude he was projecting onto you. "Don't ever tell me what to do."

"I didn't tell you to do anything. I said it was 'about time.'" Dean corrected you. You responded to him by rolling your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, moving your gaze back to the window to distract yourself for the long car ride. "Besides, it’s not like you listen to anyone half the time. You’re too busy talking over people and butting yourself in conversations where it doesn't concern you."

“I'm sorry, Dean. Next time you have anything to say I'll make sure to shut right up and listen to you.” You said to him in the most sarcastic voice you could give him to prove how annoyed you were starting to get with him. “Because your opinion is clearly the only one that matters.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Dean asked you, finding none of this amusing.

You narrowed your eyes on him from his question that only grew you more agitated. “If you took your head out of your ass for one second maybe you’d realize I’m a little stressed out.”

"We're all stressed out at the moment, Y/N." Dean said. You rolled your eyes again from his response that wasn’t exactly helpful, and he didn’t find your behavior all that amusing. “Are you capable of anything other than rolling your eyes?”

“I don’t know. Are you capable of anything other than being a dick and thinking about yourself?” You responded to his question with another. Dean fell silent for a moment as he stopped himself from lashing back at you from anger. You shook your head and adjusted yourself in your seat to get more comfortable for the long and silent drive ahead of you. “Lets just go.”

Dean was more than happy to listen to your command without backlash or another remark he tried to mutter underneath his breath. He switched gears and began pulling out of the parking spot, making you look at the motel room door one more time. You crossed your arms tighter around your body as you watched it soon become nothing more than a small object in the rear view mirror, making you wonder if this was how things were going to be. And if there was really no way of stopping the boys from making the biggest mistake of their lives.

+ + +

The both of you managed to spend most of the car ride in complete silence, the radio helping try and stop the awkward tension forming the farther you got away from Texas. Dean decided it was best to head to Rufus’ cabin to lay low for a while and for Sam to cool off. You didn't care where you ended up at this point, all you wanted to do was take a hot shower and get some rest that wasn't in the Impala. You still had every intention of not saying another word to Dean as you got out and started heading to the cabin so you could fulfill your need to unwind. But it seemed Dean had a few words lingering in the back of his mind on the drive back.

You made it halfway across the living room until Dean spoke up, the conversation starter he chose made you stop dead in your tracks. “If you were so against Benny this entire time, why did you help me out?”

“I never said I was against him.” You said, turning around to face the older Winchester to tell him how you felt. Even though you knew he wasn’t going to like it. “For the sake of everyone and my sanity, I think you should cut ties with him. The both of you are topside, go back to your lives.”

“Great idea. I’ll call Benny up right now and say never to talk to me again. Thanks for saving my life and pulling my ass out of purgatory, but my brother doesn’t like you. So we gotta end things.” Dean said. You clenched your jaw as you refrained from rolling your eyes again from how he was acting. “If Sam doesn’t like Benny, well, then that’s his problem. He never had good taste in friends. Like I’m gonna listen to him.”

You rubbed your face with your hands from how he was acting. “Do you ever sit down and think about the near future, Dean? About the possibility our family might not have Sam in it anymore because of your personal selfishness?”

“I’ll be lucky if I can even get to tomorrow, Y/N.” Dean said. “It’s not my problem if Sam doesn’t like Benny. That’s his choice he made. And I'm sure as hell not gonna change my life around to make him stick around."

You forced yourself to try and inhale a deep breath to refrain yourself from snapping at him and saying something you might regret. But it was at this point you couldn't take it anymore. Weeks and weeks of the pent up frustration you had been trying to keep at bay was too much for you to handle. You heard the boys argue and bicker over things that were small to end of the world big, but you weren't going to let them break this family up because of who they spent some time with while you were gone. Not with so much resting on your shoulders and things you had still yet to tell him. You turned around to face Dean, and without thinking, you suddenly snapped at him.

"Why are you so selfish?!" You questioned the man standing in front of you, feeling another mood swing hit you. You knew there was no breathing technique or self restraint from stopping you at this point. "What did Benny ever do that Sam never did to save your whiny ass?"

"Benny was there for me when I needed him the most! He never let me down the year I knew him, never gave up on trying to get us out of that hellhole!" Dean argued back with you, his voice rising to match yours. "Benny has been more of a brother to me than Sam had been in a long time. That's not family I want in my life, Y/N. It's on Sam if he doesn't want to be apart of it."

In that moment you were suddenly overcome with the urge to tell him the news you had been harboring in the back of your mind since you found out. You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs that the Winchester family wasn't going to be just the two of them anymore, it was going to have a new member in the next several months. You wanted to shake him and get Sam on the phone to tell the both of them to cut the crap and to forgive and forget. Much as you wanted to get this weight off your shoulders, the reality of things tugged at the back of your mind, making the scenarios you played out in your head come to haunt you.

The idea of Dean finding out that he was going to be a father always ended up tragic as it had for the Braden family when you thought about it. Maybe even worse. You thought about telling him, hoping that it might bring some happiness to him, a chance for him to realize that he could love someone and be a good father John never could for him. But he couldn’t. He dismissed all of it, because he was too scared to face reality. You pictured him storming out and leaving you, never to be seen again. Blaming it on how he wanted to keep you "safe." Maybe even having Cas erase him from your mind so you could live a normal life, as if all the years you spent together with him weren't good enough. His own self doubt and pity stopped him from facing responsibility he once would do anything to get.

Those thoughts and scenarios was when you were up late at night, lost in your own personal doubts about the future. And then there was the times you were in a conversation or doing some research for a hunt when your mind started drifting to a cute daydream of everyday life with the baby. Things that made you think that things might work out. But...then your mind started to drift to a dark place about what might happen in the upcoming hours during what you were doing. You were on the hunt, arrogant at the thought nothing could hurt you. But then the inevitable happens. You got hurt, you lost the baby. Dean hating your guts for what you had done.

You weren't sure if you would even make it to full term. You knew your own mother had complications getting pregnant with you. She had miscarriage after miscarriage until she got desperate and got down on her knees and begged for a child from a demon. And while you were human, the fear lingered in the back of your head of what might happen. What if the child came out like you had? What if you did something and it ended up with demon blood in its system like Sam had? You hoped that Dean wasn’t going to raise this child like he had. There were so many worst case scenarios running through your mind, you grew scared that all of this was going to end up badly like it had for your parents.

So you kept the secret buried in the back of your mind, deciding that it was better to store in there for a little longer until you were ready and things were looking a little less gloomy. You were barely at eight weeks. There was still so much going on from the boys to closing the gates of hell. And that's how you ended the argument, too. You just left Dean standing in the middle of the cabin, deciding you were too tired to fight anymore about this. If Dean wanted to make that decision, so be it. You walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock it when he realized what he had done. And how pissed off you still were at him.

+ + +

You remembered reading somewhere in a woman’s magazine that you should never go to bed feeling angry at your partner. You should try to resolve the problem and work out whatever was bothering you. But you brushed it off as some sort of cra that might work out for another couple that was facing issues that were more on a normal scale. You didn't think it necessarily applied to your situation. You were fighting about asking your boyfriend to stop being friends with a vampire and your best friend to abandon the life he spent a year ago being happy.

The next morning you woke up feeling worse as you had when you went to bed, only to toss and turn, hating how lumpy and empty it felt without Dean. You had no new texts from Sam after you sent one, hoping he might give you a chance to put out the fire burning the bridge between him and his brother. You rolled out of bed a short time after waking up and staring up at the ceiling, waiting to hear any sort of movement from outside in the cabin. When you deemed the place quiet, you unlocked the door and slipped yourself out to fix yourself a warm cup of tea and some breakfast if you could find any in the cabin. If not, you'd just make a run into town.

You expected Dean to be around here somewhere when you noticed the Impala was still parked out front before you made your way out into the other part of the cabin. You made your way to the kitchen and fixed yourself some hot water and fetched out a tea bag. And while you were waiting for the water to boil, you wandered over to the beat up couch when you heard soft snoring coming from there. You found Dean lying on the couch with a beer bottle tucked into his side as he peacefully slept. You crossed your arms over your chest as you found yourself standing over him, watching the man sleep without him realizing.

You suddenly found yourself growing agitated at him. Dean wasn’t doing anything and he still pissed you off...at how freaking handsome he looked at the moment. You were always a sucker for his way of looking good no matter the occasion. Sometimes all it took was one look and you were wondering why you were arguing with him in the first place, a wink or a smile to make you feel like your cheeks were on fire. You had been with him for almost five years and he still made you feel like you falling in love with him at times, like everything was still new. It was something so simple as watching him sleep made you realize all over again about how much you loved him. Switch out the beer bottle for a sleeping baby resting on his chest and that would be your future...if you only told him without chickening out.

You let out a sigh and walked away from the sleeping man and to the kettle whistling for your attention. You fixed yourself the cup of tea and had every intention of going back to the bedroom, however as you turned around, the sound of your shuffling around must have made Dean stir awake. You looked straight ahead to see a familiar face standing in the middle of the living room, making you jump slightly, only it was Dean who got a rude awakening.

Dean jumped a few inches off the couch at the sight of Cas standing over him, watching him sleep. He accidentally let go of the beer he was cradling, making some of the drink spill out onto the couch before he grabbed it. “Damn it, Cas! How many times I got to tell you,” Dean slammed the beer bottle down onto the coffee table as he started to calm down from the jump scare the angel made a habit out of. “It’s just creepy.”

"Good morning, Cas." You greeted the angel in a more friendlier tone as you approached the couch. You turned your head slightly to look at Dean from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to Cas. "What are you doing here?"

"Dean, Y/N. I need your help." Cas said, giving you the reason why he was here. You raised your brow slightly in curiosity as you took a sip of your drink, watching as Dean tried to wipe away whatever beer might have spilled on him. "The angel Samandriel, he's been taken."

Your face scrunched up slightly at who the angel was talking about, but then you were reminded of the one you had seen Dean talking to at the auction in attempt to get the tablet back. He took the vessel of some kid, and bet almost everything valuable to get the word of God back. "You mean Alfie, the wiener-on-a-stick kid?"

“Yes. I heard his distress call this morning.” Cas informed the both of you.

“On, what angel radio?” You asked him, trying to keep your attention to Cas. You refrained from giving Dean an annoyed look as you watched him wipe away the sleep from his eyes. Either you were more hormonal than you realized, or he was doing everything in his power to make himself appear more...adorable. “I thought you shut that down.”

"Well, my penance, it's going well, and I thought it was time to turn it back on." Cas said. You nodded your head slowly, not sure if that was a good idea, considering what he told you in secrecy. However if he felt it was time to make peace with his fellow siblings, so be it. "I've been helping people."

“Well, good for you.” Dean muttered underneath his breath. He got himself up from the couch to suddenly regret the decision when he felt his neck and back start to feel sore. He let out a sigh and attempted to relieve some of the pain to a bare minimum.

“Have fun sleeping on the couch?” You curiously asked the man, hiding your smirk behind the cup as you took another sip of your drink. He turned his gaze to you and replied with a tight smile, refraining from saying anything to piss you off even more to end up in the same predicament as last night. "So, who snatched Heaven's most adorable angel?"

The angel replied with a name that made you cringe, “Crowley.”

You and Dean looked over at one another for a moment, the feelings of last night faded away, knowing that it was time to get serious. Whenever the king of hell was involved, it always meant trouble for whoever was in the hot seat. “We’re listening.”

“Samandriel is being held in the general vicinity of Hastings, Nebraska.” Cas said.

“”The general vicinity’? That’s all you got?” You asked the angel. “It’s not much to go on.”

"Yes, which is why I need your help. It seems this is gonna involve..." Cas said, trailing off for a second as he spoke of the dreaded human interaction that he wasn't ever good with. "talking to people."

"Come on, Cas." You teased the angel as you walked over to the table where you had left your laptop last night for safekeeping. “I thought you were a hunter now."

“Well, I thought so, too,” Cas said. “but it seems I lack a certain—”

“Skill?” You finished the angel’s thought as you innocently opened up your laptop, expecting to be greeted by the black screen and the reflection of your disheveled appearance you made no effort in taming. However it seemed someone was on it and made no attempted to hide what they were doing. on the internet browser. “What the hell?

You made the realization that it was the infamous website of bustyasianbeauties, and someone had been enjoying the sight late last night. Before you could say anything else, Dean quickly slammed the laptop shut, managing to miss your fingers. You turned your head to look up at the man, your expression turning into a glare. He ignored your daggers as he turned the laptop around to try and cover his tracks like he should have last night.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you raised your brow, he fumbled to come up with an excuse that didn't sound terrible. He opened the laptop back up, and quick as possible, exited out of the browser while covering the screen with his hand, trying to shield you and the angel from the young woman on the screen greeting the visitors with her dazzling smile and nothing else. You rolled your eyes when he finished up and pushed the laptop back over to you.

"All right." You said, clearing your throat as you pulled up a new browser to get started on a bit of research to track this angel down. "What am I looking for?"

“Well, when you torture an angel, it screams, and that kind of pain, it creates a ripple effect of strange incidents.” Cas explained. You began typing in something into the search bar and waited for a moment until the results came up. While the angel patiently for you to do your own research, he noticed that something was off about the dynamics. "Where's Sam?"

"Sam's gone." Dean informed the angel about the change. You for a moment when you heard him deliver the news, which was only half of it. You refrained yourself from adding more to the story, knowing you had a feeling Cas would be able to pick up more along the way. This wasn't the first time the brothers went their separate ways. "It's all right. We'll find Alfie ourselves."

"Right." You mumbled. “Because the last time the three of us worked together it ended so well."

You decided that it wouldn't hurt to give the brothers some space to work out their differences and realize what kind of horrible mistake they were about to make. It worked like a charm last time. But it took you and Dean to be hurled five years into the future and the impending doom of the apocalypse to realize the three of you were a family that needed to stick together. You felt a wave of morning sickness hit you like it always did after you woke up. It made you wonder if the secret you were still keeping from them would help put their differences aside. Or tear the family apart for good.

[Next Part]

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35 notes · View notes

twiddlebirdlet · 5 years

Text

Post Digest

I had so many posts yesterday, and I could not possibly answer them all in this lifetime. My apologies for not addressing these, but here they are.

The words belong to the anonymous original writers. They do not reflect my opinions. My posting of them doesn’t imply any endorsement.

· Anonymous said:

Chris really is trash for ruining another relationship maybe him and Jordyn woods can join the home wrecker club

· Anonymous said:

Mood, give up. People will blame you, the girl, the weather, everything but Chris, who could have easily avoided any assumption by not taking the pics. Pics with kids, pic of dog, hospital visits, videos for sick children all this is good PR and he used in the past. But where is the good on taking pics with dancers? They were not fans. He is not helping to make them being respected or less objectified. He is not bringing any discussion about their work conditions to the table.

· Anonymous said:

People saying this is nothing how do they explain her boyfriend deleting all of her pix? If it was nothing if she wasn’t with him why is boyfriend reacting that way?

· Anonymous said:

That girl was so completely lusting after Chris in her pics and posts that I think she absolutely would jump out of her current relationship if Chris so much as blinked her way. She was going to go anywhere he was. I will wait to see what happens but it looks like Chris may have made another poor decision. Why is this man so intelligent in some things but when it comes to women he is just so way off? If he thought SSH was bad, just wait for a young social media millennial. Disaster.

· Anonymous said:

Bella & her bf are still following each other on Instagram. Maybe he deleted those photos of her as a way of protecting her? Maybe he didn't want to make his Insta private & thought this would be a better way of doing things. In any case, he doesn't seem angry enough at her to unfollow her. But I don't think they broke up before the Chris thing, as he still had their professional couple photos up & they were still posting gushy comments to each other. So it's still weird and suspicious.

· Anonymous said:

What is up with Chris and taken women

· Anonymous said:

So I guess Chris really is a home wrecker

· Anonymous said:

I just want to say thank you for all the information you're providing about this whole Chris situation. I'd rather have the full (or as full as we can get it) story with all the pieces together so I can make up my own mind what to think, vs bits and pieces and people misreporting information that they heard third hand, etc. So your summary post with receipts was very much appreciated by me.

· Anonymous said:

To me the whole intern thing just seemed like she was trying to be linked to him judging by the times the ig pics went up. I guess everyone has their own opinions I know people who have basically said it was nothing and refused to talk about it but if it was someone else they would be all over it. It seems with him people pick and choose what issues of his they want to discuss. All of just seemed iffy especially know knowing that her bf deleted her pics. Hope you're have a lovely day.

· Anonymous said:

I’m worried about the people worried about your health. They’re so invested in this celebrity that they are policing your blog. He’s a successful, famous actor. He has a whole team of people to handle this. And, none of those people are contacting you...

· Anonymous said:

I don't get anons coming in here and complaining that you answering asks about the saturday night events is somehow blowing this thing up and causing drama. This anon should go to twitter where there are accounts that tag CE, JS, enty and provoking more and more ridiculous accusations, including Chris roofying Bella's drink etc. Twiddle at least sticks to things we can prove so if you wanna complain, go there and set these people straight. They make real damage not anonymous tumblr

· Anonymous said:

The boyfriend could just be fed up with her throwing herself at ce and then getting comments forcing him to go private. That would be enuf for a 20 yr old in a long distance relationship. Doesn’t mean she is shaking up with ce. He’s too paranoid to do that

· Anonymous said:

From what I've seen on Twitter, there's a little bit of talk about the burlesque aspect of it (mostly "Ugh, you're all such prudes, get over it!") but no one seems to be picking up on the intern part of it except for like 3 people. I'm torn. I kind of want to see him get shit for this, because he was very stupid and irresponsible, but OTOH I'd hate to see what kind of PR crap his people will pull up to distract everyone. A PRomance with Brie Larson, perhaps.

· Anonymous said:

Just a funny coincidence but it appears her (ex) bf and Chris share the same birthday lol. But either way not looking good. We can only speculate but it looks like her ex bf/bf didn't like her behavior towards him or something really did go down. 🦊

· Anonymous said:

I think everyone needs to accept their portion of responsibility in this situation. The people that harassed or contacted the interns, the girl and the performers need to respect boundaries. I understand you posts Anons, but you also decide which and how many. Yesterday you provided a platform and it had consequences, people felt emboldened and crossed lines. I think everyone can learn from this experience and correct their future behavior.

· Anonymous said:

So you keep saying your not sure if mark was there when multiple people keep saying he was.YOU keep saying that the pics were taking at the same or about the same time but theres no proof that they were. YOU keep putting out info that isnt accurate or just coincidental. that girl bf realise his gf is a thirsty ass and she got what she got but it doesnt mean anything happen between her and chris. NOTHING HAPPEN WITH THE INTERN STOP SPREADING SHIT!!

· Anonymous said:

I think the bf just wanted people to stop harassing him about her so he did that instead of privatize. Seemingly less like a breakup.

· Anonymous said:

It’s possible and probable her boyfriend deleted any pictures of her/them because he was tired of being harassed and getting bombarded with comments. He still follows her. He could have just muted the comment section, but maybe he was hoping by doing that it would help this all die down, and for people to lose interest. Which is laughable, because this particular fandom has a hard time letting go. Either way, I don’t necessarily think this is the beginning of a new relationship for Chris.

· Anonymous said:

Sending you love! I truly enjoy your blog and your commentary. What you wrote about your struggles with OCD resonates with me (I had anxiety issues as a teenager. Mild in comparison to some, but they dominated my life). I will try not to clutter your inbox from now on, but, please know you are appreciated and I love the discussions we have here.

· Anonymous said:

I think that putting the blame on this or other blog is a total waste of time. You know what would have avoided all this? Not taking those pics. How hard would be for him to STOP doing something that is doing no good to him? As you said, nothing positive comes out of this. He is not attending the ask of a cute kid. He is not visiting a hospital. He is helping a club to promote their name, something totally uncessary for an actor who reached his fame.

· Anonymous said:

The intern thing didn't make the rounds in the internt, but the meeting with Dan Creshaw did. Chris is being criticized for that and for the twitter interaction.

· Anonymous said:

Oy, its looking like she really did risk it all. Dumb childish mentality, what did anybody honestly expect from this situation? That poor boyfriend.

· Anonymous said:

I don't think it's a proof that something happened between her and Chris but for sure her bf (probably now ex) didn't aprove her behaviour and probably he thinks that some limits were crossed. I have to admit that I would not like to have a bf acting like that around a famous woman or any other woman and leaving traces in SM which is worse. I really, really hope that Chris is smart enough to stay away from that or another kind of fame will get attached to him besides the "f*ck boy" image.

· Anonymous said:

WHOA! Deleting all her pics? Does that mean Chris successfully ruined another relationship??? Whuut!?

· Anonymous said:

You are very kind and your head is definitely on straight. You’re less of an “opinion” blog and almost more of a news blog anyways. Don’t listen to the haters. You aren’t being overly invested, cruel, silly, or anything else. I’ve always found you to be fair.

· Anonymous said:

I looked at mark’s following list and he followed one other intern (a girl) who was also in the city but didn’t post from the box!

· Anonymous said:

Tbh, good for her bf-her behavior (the comments) were completely inappropriate IF in a relationship, long distance or not. Unbelievably disrespectful to him. Hope her thirstiness was worth losing a relationship and (maybe) an internship. I am several years older, but there is no way I would have behaved that way during my college internship. Morality clauses apply to personal time as well.

· Anonymous said:

Omg he deleted every pic with her. So now we know for sure that something happened that night lol

· Anonymous said:

And now apparently twitter thinks harpy was there with Chris and they're back together. Oh for fuck's sake!

· Anonymous said:

It's funny because many Chris instagram fan accounts just share the pic of him and the black singer/stripper but skip posting the other with the women group with clothes close to the nothing that they find I guess too trash for share with their followers in saying Chris with a fan in NYC without details.

· Anonymous said:

In the name of everybody sorry for the large number of asks we sent you and the tiredness we,people agree or not agree, have caused you. We don't think when we send you an ask that you will receive many, everybody, after seeing one and your answer, wanting share their opinion about what an anon or you said even if it's for exprime our agreement. It's a circle without end. I hope you had a good night. Let's forget that,this girl is history now,the fire is extinguished now. Kiss

· Anonymous said:

I've been seeing this gifset on my dashboard lately from Chris' interview captioned "I'm smarter than I look". No idea if the quote is real because I've never seen this particular interview but I think given the turn of events of the past few days it's appropriate to say "no, Chris, you aren't" LOL

· Anonymous said:

Ok, I can't believe I'm saying this, but this whole messy situation really turns me off. I've always known Chris isn't a saint, that he's NOT Steve Rogers irl, going to clubs like The Box is not a new thing for him, but he should've known better. I want to believe he's not that dumb, but he's THAT dumb. This is really upsetting and I'm so disappointed. After all those good days working on a serious project in DC, does he really not care about his image being sleazy like that? Damn it, Chris.

· Anonymous said:

So Chris alone went to greet the dancers? From what Manuel submitted, that’s what it seems like. She wasn’t there with him and his friends exactly, but somehow found out where they were and met up with them? I’m so over talking about this. Idk how you’ve done this all day Twiddle. My bedtime prayer is dedicated to you tonight.

· Anonymous said:

Thank you Twiddle for taking your time to answer here and on DM. I know you also do it so that you will be best informed to answer any questions here, we appreciate that some took the time to gather more information for the rest of us. It seems like at the end of these gossip we all end up confirming our first guest. I feel we shouldn't give this girl more room. My conclusion for the day is either he never thought that girl was that thirsty or he's really just dumb. I'm going with cute but dumb

· Anonymous said:

It's not a great look for him to be pictured at places like that, particularly when he's employed by a family-friendly company like Disney. He's been obsessed with protecting his image ever since he got the role of Cap. Btw, I am not surprised he goes to places like that but you'd think he'd be smart enough not to get his picture taken.

· Anonymous said:

Have people forgotten that one of these thirsty hanger-on types (just like this intern seems to be) is someone who sent a video of Chris to tmz? I mean, he wasn't doing anything bad-just partying it up after a super bowl and he looked like a drunk frat boy. But even that got a dodger pic response. My point is that he should be smarter about people around him, especially when he's drunk.

· Anonymous said:

Denying pics comes with its own risks. You don’t want to piss people off because that can have its own dangers. This has happened with other celebs. There have been several occasions where his pics have been in return for free bottle service or other perks. I am not saying that is the case here though. Not trying to argue with you mod, just saying it’s not black and white. A lot of mistakes were made here and the worst part is how avoidable it was. But most seem to hinge on Bella’s actions. 🐩

· Anonymous said:

Mark follows a few of the interns from DC, 2 of whom (Bella & another woman) posted from NYC Saturday night & this evening. Also a few of Mark's friends are NYC as well. It's not far fetched that going to The Box was his idea. Also Mark would've needed to make a reservation to ensure they got in.

· Anonymous said:

I think you hit the nail. What Chris gets from taking those pics? For sure he is being polite and the people involved get happy but taking how society works and how many people think and what they can do with that information, he got nothing good on posing for those pics. And saying that is just pointing out and realising how society works. People are hypocrite and mysoginist.

· Anonymous said:

I feel you on the eating away at your Sunday. It’s not my blog and even *I* can’t believe how much time I’m devoted to this, much less the swamp you must be dealing with. Really appreciate your views and your time. I feel so silly that I’ve gotten so caught up in it but it’s like a car accident you can’t turn away from. Get some rest and lots of love. 🐩

· Anonymous said:

People been posting Info but clearly no one believes it. That tree anon mention it.

· Anonymous said:

People who are saying Mark was there and that she was there with a group of friends are just assuming as much as anyone else who says Chris and the girl were there with each other. The only thing we know for sure is that they were both on the same place, at the same night, around the same time, after meeting the day before. We can't deny that.

· Anonymous said:

I’d like to say this girl blew her chances but this is the same guy who gave MK & JS multiple chances despite their fame whoring ways. Whatever it is it won’t last long but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re seen together again. Too bad. His political project was exciting. Now it’s tainted because he’s proven what a lot of people thought of him to be true.

· Anonymous said:

You need to let it go now. This is a non story. It’s looking more like two separate trips were in the works and it was a “oh hey us too maybe we’ll see you we were thinking of checking out this club” now apparently you think because he’s ancient and she’s an impressionable child and burlesque shows are akin to live porn he should have shut it down. But those of us in the common sense world see this for what it was. Which is a giant nothing. So tip to TMZ. Guarantee they will think the same.

· Anonymous said:

For gods sake. Read and post my second ask to you. Stop all this madness. Yes they know each other. That is it. They were at same club and of course hung out a little. So what They met at first dc meet I think. He was nice to her She was nice back. Nothing wrong with people meeting and being cool. Even if famous

· Anonymous said:

Maybe I should rewrite this but Your acting as they were they in DC together. They MET and photographed but wasnt there together as Your wording puts it. Like I said you dont know of they were backstage together. Pics can be upload at any time of the night . Your just jumping to conclusions like everyone else.

· Anonymous said:

The way some of you talk about women is so damn depressing ugh this fandom is on one today.

· Anonymous said:

Liked what the PR/crisis anon mentioned, that it's wrong to think Chris was uninvolved in JS and MK's stunts when he dated them. It's naive to think he is that helpless and easily controlled.

· Anonymous said:

What i really don't understand is how chris could have been so so dumb and didn't think of the consequences. Also his pr underestimated the whole situation. The girl was blatantly seeking attention and a story to tell, and any person with a brain would have got the danger of the all situation. I know that he loves partying but he was so superficial i can't even put into words. In my opinion the project has been hurt by this and everything happened today showed that.

· Anonymous said:

2/2) as if he wanted to do that. I doubt he asked, but was asked to do it. 3) The girl jumped on the chance to go backstage after the invitation and took the pic. 4) People put the pieces together because the girl was thirsty the day before and liked the attention she got from her friends but now there is a chance she ruined the trip a little as people ran to protect their privacy.

· Anonymous said:

I think if Chris wants to be taken seriously in what ever he decides to do. He needs to grow up and act his age and stop drinking as much and hang around different people that includes his friends from Boston. I feel most of his friends are just there for the ride including Tara. If he does ever get married she will have to trust him to no end.

· Anonymous said:

"it's not at all weird for people here on a blog that is predominantly about Chris to talk more about chris' antics than about anyone else's. It doesn't mean they're more worried or think what he's done is worse, it's just that this blog is a place to talk about him more than anyone else. Nice try though." Nice try what? If you read the full ask, as Chris's fan, I'm more concerned that's he's doing publicity pics with treasonous Nazis than hanging at a burlesque show w/ an intern. But you do you

· Anonymous said:

Hi! Sorry for this question but I just don´t understand what is going on here with Chris and this intern? I try to scroll down your page but I still don´t understand what has happened.

· Anonymous said:

Some who don't have problem that Bella flies to NY and post the picture at the same place where was Chris was the first to be offend that Jenny posts pic when she was at the same place that Chris whereas she was dating him. Be careful anons I'm not a pro Janey but people were rude with her when it was normal(even if she trolled), she was spending time with his boyfriend but when another women did the same, without dating him, they think it's okay. Why?

· Anonymous said:

I'm genuinely curious about what kind of impression he was trying to make on her? like you wanna hook up with this chick & you're letting her know that you like to gawk at other half naked chicks in your free time? Unfortunately this will never blow up, if his PR team can bury homewrecker scandal then they can bury anything.

· Anonymous said:

He seems to unconsciously be attracted to attention-seeking women who view him as a prize. I wonder if it’s a defense mechanism to prevent him from entering a serious relationship? Also, seriously, why wouldn’t you just make it clear to her that she shouldn’t post their escapades on social media from the start? Has he learned nothing from the Jobby debacle????

· Anonymous said:

Okay, from her comments and that pose, that's a girl that has no problem pushing someone out the way to get noticed. Like the pic, the side she was on was trying to get four people in, compared to the 3 on the other, so they had to turn sideways. I can see her making sure she was the one next to him. She didn't have to put her hand on his shoulder or stomach. She was trying for his attention. Did she get it? Don't know. Don't really care, but that's a college-age Janey. Just want that fame.

· Anonymous said:

Now that there are pics of them together and seeing the way she's posing with her hands on his chest and shoulder (it is very reminiscent of SSH, isn't it? Which would hurt if I was js lol) taken with the comments from her and her friends, all I can say is YIKES. And also, SMH. I am not a prude and I actually like burlesque and have been to The Box and fully expected him to hook up with somebody in DC ~on the low~ but even I can say this is not a good look for him. This boy will never learn.

· Anonymous said:

I’d like to think that he’d cut all ties to Bella now the he’s created a PR nightmare for himself, yet again. But considering for almost 3 years he was involved with a woman who was married when they originally met & got involved, I don’t think he will care. At least Jenny was almost the same age as him. He’s looking like an upgraded version of Dane Cook. For anyone who doesn’t know, Dane Cook’s girlfriend is 19, they started dating when she was 18, but were “friends” before that 🙄🤢

· Anonymous said:

The more I see from this girl the more I think she’s just a thirsty very immature little girl. And has no idea what she could potentially cost Chris. But he’s not innocent as she found out where he was going somehow.. And then posted it everywhere. Him or his team should have warned them to be cautious. And once they arrived not continued to entertain them and allow them backstage. An adult would have said nice to see you I’m going over here goodbye. Just another dumb d*#k brain decision.

· Anonymous said:

Oh, man... the boyfriend. I didn't even think about him. Can you imagine if the situation was reverse and her bf was acting that way towards a famous woman? I can imagine myself on that situation and I wouldn't like it. Even if she was just joking, which i don't think she was just doing that, it would be disrespectfull. I hope he is not hurt.

· Anonymous said:

Tks for the clarifycation for don't hate the player. So the girl had no shame to run after a man who has close the double of her age just because he is famous. Not sure she is again with her boyfriend but if she is, he would be very happy. It's clear,even if Chris makes bad choices in women, he wouldn't do nothing with her, discretion level he couldn't count on her. 5min with him and she shared and tried already trash things.

· Anonymous said:

And Chris, wearing that Red Sox cap in NYC will bring you a lot of unwanted attention ;)

· Anonymous said:

He was probably advised to stay away from twitter or he decided to do that.

· Anonymous said:

"He doesn’t deserve to be placed on a pedestal. " Literally no personal should be put on a pedestal. NO ONE. Mothers, fathers, friends, siblings, celebrities, every single person does stupid shit or has 'problematic' opinions. If you place anybody (family, friends, celebrities) on a pedestal, you're only looking to get disappointed.

· Anonymous said:

Lets be real-Chris is charming, he is a schmoozer. He was working the crowd in DC. If you are nice to someone, than you get your interview. This time he snagged a desperate fan girl & hung out with her. Not the type of guy I would ever want to be involved with. I could not be w/ a guy that wanted to go to those types of clubs. I think SSH didn't like it either. If this is the life he wants to live he will either have to find a person ok with it, change or be single. 10 steps back for me.

· Anonymous said:

I think she is just a fan with a crush and people are reading into this way too much. I don’t think that’s her hand on his shoulder and the pose is also something we’ve seen in comic con pics. Her “way good friend lol” to means she is joking because he isn’t. The “don’t hate the player hate the game” is again joking and means don’t be mad at her because she got to meet him and her friend didn’t. Was there flirting ? Maybe but we know he does with everyone and she might thought it was just her.

· Anonymous said:

I don't know how publicits work. Do they keep track of the mentions of their clients in SM? I wonder if Chris' publicist is already checking the situation. TIME FOR A DODGER PIC IF YOU ARE READING HERE!!!!!

· Anonymous said:

I find it hard to believe Chris would use this venture to go fishing for a college aged hookup or girlfriend. He mentions age and sneaking into bars in that video, so he also knew her (Bella’s) approximate age. I have no doubt he gets plenty of action and isn’t a saint, but this truly seems like she is playing up something that doesn’t exist. I question her more than him here, again, because he knows this is an important project with “real life” important people, not hollywood actors.

· Anonymous said:

Chris seems so immature. I know we want to put the blame on Janey and MK and all the other girlfriends but honestly am I the only that thinks maybe it’s HIM who’s the problematic one? Idk I’m young so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about lol

· Anonymous said:

All this shot is crazy. I’m know Chris is no saint but come on! At least let her be in her late twenties or early thirties! That’s nasty because she’s two years younger than me!

· Anonymous said:

I’m not down for slut shaming in any regard. If anything happened, Chris was most definitely down for it. I just think it was dumb on her part, because she posted about it. Any potential employers could see this as a red flag. They don’t want to deal with the fallout of an employee causing a potential PR scandal, especially in the political world. Like if she did this once, she’ll prob do it again. I don’t think she’s gunning to be Mrs. Evans, but she def wanted to party and maybe hook up.

· Anonymous said:

There was another video of him sending a message to a different person on a different day. I don't think the fact she ask him to do that means anything

· Anonymous said:

For someone who seemed smart enough to get near a HW star, she sure was pretty naive and had no clue on how this fandom work LOL

· Anonymous said:

But what damage could be done ? It’s not like he did something bad. There is no need to excuse his behavior because nothing illegal was done it’s not like he was caught with a 17 year old in a “massage parlour”. You guys also need to stop with this “he is almost 40” like he was supposed to stop having fun and living his life at 35. If you don’t like it fine don’t live YOUR life that way but don’t be mad at him for refusing to just settle and die because he is “almost 40” .

· Anonymous said:

Not be agree with the places Chris frequents doesn't mean we think he is Cap. I have enought to hear this explication, like we are too much stupid to make the difference between the actor and the role he plays. With the conversation we have here, the majority of anons aren't teenagers i guess. A lot of people don't feel comfortable with the sex industry(porno,stripclub or the one night stand). It would be my brother,my neighbour,my cousin,it's a vice we don't understand not naivety about Chris.

· Anonymous said:

I don't have much to say about this situation but I wouldn't be surprised if it does turn out to be something sleazy. I mean, this is a guy who had an affair with his married co-star and just a few weeks after she actually left her husband for him, he was going to strip clubs & she was tweeting about how that upset her. So he's not always a stand up guy. Mostly I find it funny that even when the girl is a young intern not in HW, she's STILL an attention seeking type. His picker is so broken.

· Anonymous said:

Well, Chris definitely has a type.

· Anonymous said:

I don't think that people are being judgemental but more worried about the consequences that this could create. Internet can make things scalate too quickly and even change the facts. But let's be honest. Chris is white, male, straight, rich. He will be ok. But he has to stop taking pics in those places. Remember when he was dating JS and he went to a certain place in Canada? No pics, people left it behind. That's the right thing to do. No pics, so it's as if it didn't happen.

· Anonymous said:

Burlesque clubs in NYC are often listed in magazines as “things to do” in the city. They are seen as touristy activities. I can see a young girl being excited to go & asking for a hookup to get vip treatment. The place is not what you guys are making it out to be.

· Anonymous said:

Oh please. How should he have celebrated international women’s day ffs. This is starting to get ridiculous. Women. Including 20 year old ones are allowed to go to burlesque clubs. Get out of here with that comment. And if you’re going to invoke a feminist day maybe consider the fact that she went of her own volition? I mean this insinuation that he took a naive child to a strip club. It’s starting to get a bit unhinged up in here.

· Anonymous said:

Are we forgetting he got involved with a whole ass married woman? Lmao, this whole situation is not much of a stretch as people are making. I wish he’d grow up like all of you. He talks the talk of wanting to be a husband and father. He paints himself as a family man. Which yes, he is family oriented. But then he does things like this, which are unfortunately also on brand given his past. Megan, his publicists names I believe, better be getting paid time and half putting out these fires lol.

· Anonymous said:

Right but this is like barely a scandal. We’re just focused on it and there are some social media comments. So for all those saying he should be seen doing serious things umm he is? For the casual fan his serious image is 100% in tact. And my guess is will stay that way. This will blow over in 48 hours tops. It’s not getting any traction other than gossip corners of the internet. Being seen seriously doesn’t mean living like a monk ffs. He didn’t do anything wrong, y’all just dramatic and judgy.

· Anonymous said:

I think we can all agree no matter what the reality might be, the optics aren’t great. If him &his friend are trying to get this new project off the ground in DC, and hes being photographed in a burlesque club in NYC in the same vicinity as DC interns, the DAY AFTER giving interviews, the optics are awful. Politicians would be quick to distance themselves from their project and with those hes already met, potentially wouldn’t give him their time again, especially if their interns are involved.

· Anonymous said:

fans saying he should live his life however he wants-nobody is saying he shouldn't. But people shouldn't be naive enough to think that optics don't matter. They matter a lot.

· Anonymous said:

If the other interns were there they were smart not to post about it. Like that other anon said I imagine the people in D.C. will not be happy about this I’m sure there are social media rules about how to behave.

· Anonymous said:

Mark's been to The Box before, he's posted stories from his trips there.

· Anonymous said:

Some are ok to see a 38 years old man having habits in strip,nightclub and before Playboy party. Good. Some women don't like men like it!Chris or not Chris! I find it perverse,it's all. Frat boys aren't my type of men and great my man isn't like it. And i don't see Chris change when he will be married. There will always be a Mark or an Adam for ask him to go. Scott seems to enjoy trashy club but Zack too so they go as a couple. Maybe am i too prude 😒

· Anonymous said:

This truly blew up fast. Not a Pats fan, but a few years ago, Edelman hooked up w/ a girl he met out partying & she posted a pic of them in bed the next morning on Snapchat. I’m not saying that Chris hooked up with her, we will never know & honestly it’s no one’s business. But both situations definitely seemed opportunistic, but at least with this one people are holding Chris accountable too. The other girl got slut shamed majorly. Like girls, you don’t have to post everything on social media.

· Anonymous said:

Even if there were more interns there, even if Mark was there with Chris... if they went with the interns it's still not a good look. They are both near their 40's. It's a no to rang out with 20's, principally in that kind of enviroment that revolves around sex. This could be used to damage his image, his career, this could be used to damage their initiative about the political site. It just take one article or one tweet from a Trump supporter with many followers for that.

· Anonymous said:

She may or may not have been the only intern with him. She may or may not have ended up with him last night. This time it’s slipped on social media. Imagine all the other times it hasn’t! Disappointed if he’s on the same Leo, Cary Fukunaga and Jake train but are we surprised? Women around his age think differently, and clearly he’s not settling down this minute. Wonder what else would leak. I’ll be here with my tea and popcorn.

· Anonymous said:

This doesn’t look good, but at the same time I feel bad for this girl and her BF, fellow interns, friends, etc. Suddenly a rabid fan base is combing through their every move trying to play detective. I get the curiosity, I’m curious too, but I know how people overreact. And while most are fine, already people are crossing the line and commenting. Not a kick on you, just kinda crazy the lengths that some go to. I’m so glad I grew up without social media for most of my life.

· Anonymous said:

don cheadle once saying on a talk show that the cast of the avengers(including chris of course) all went to a burlesque bar in london. ALL of them. it's not a crime...or is it??? and as for that bella chick going wit him?? who the hell wouldn't go if we were invited? good for her.

· Anonymous said:

I feel that a conveniently timed Dodger video (or photo) is imminent. Or will we go really old school with a video for a sick child? Some sort of distraction from the current (I agree ,totally inappropriate) drama. Thing is that sort of tactic will only work for so long, less and less people will forget each time. While there's no problem visiting a burlesque club,hell I've been myself, it's the company you take to the club that should be more carefully considered. Not a smart move.

· Anonymous said:

Of course he has pr. But people don’t understand how pr works. He doesn’t clear every private dumb decision with them and ask for professional pr advice. He lives his life (and makes dumb mistakes clearly!) but typically a professional pr team isn’t involved unless it affects him professionally, like blows up into a scandal affecting his image and work. They don’t babysit his private life. We’re all fired up about it on our corner of the internet but we’re not really at a true scandal.

· Anonymous said:

People were rightfully dragging Cavill for dating a 19 year old.Chris went to a strip/ burlesque club with a young girl (since one woman posted about them on the birthday video we know they were there together) and there are people still thinking this is ok? (Not saying you do mood) He is stupid many times: one for doing it, one for thinking that is ok, one for leaving traces of it.Oh, wait.The girl is the one who left the traces. That remember me of someone else who used to leave proofs behind.

· Anonymous said:

Ok. I remember when him an Janey broke up, and a few weeks later he was in Houston for the Super Bowl. Him and his friends met some girls at a party, and he invited some of them back to the house with them. Some videos were uploaded. I don’t think this is that different. He went away for a trip, met a girl, and invited her along for the ride. More than likely this is nothing, and this girl is just being opportunistic. He really needs to pick ladies who can use discretion in the future.

· Anonymous said:

I think this is just an example of how celebrity image works. If you aren’t part of Chris fandom or gossip you have no clue. Just a basic google news search for him right now shows his DC rounds and Captain Marvel tweet. And that’s the image he wants to have (and I think genuinely does to a point). But isolated Instagram pics that don’t fit easily into a narrative are never going to get traction. Sure they’ll always be there because internet, but give it another week and it’ll barely be a blip.

· Anonymous said:

Chris is this guy who invite strangers during party/games night in his house or girls who his friends and him met to à bar for partying in friend's house(the tmz video after the end of round 1),it's seem to be how he is but he is the guy, in doing that who trust in everybody and after there are these kind of pic/video not flattering in not flattering place. I see some say he is single so he's enjoy it but he did it when he was with JS, her tweet where she was upset to his bf going to stripclub.

· Anonymous said:

This would not be blowing up if this bella girl had seemed to be in the company of the same friends at the box as she went to NYC with but that is not the case. Mark might have been with them too but why would this rocky lanes person only follow bella's IG and not Mark's too?

· Anonymous said:

All of this stuff is already on twitter and instagram tagging Chris, Megan and even Josh for some reason...

· Anonymous said:

Maybe i missed something, but what’s wrong with Chris taking pics in that club or wherever he was & why couldnt the girl(s) put the pic on her ig

· Anonymous said:

I haven't heard the video but the "my way good friend" comment seems like a joke. Like "this is my very famous friend who I just met and we're already close" And I think that if he denied those girls of taking a picture he'll be criticize, and considering what they work in and those outfits, seems to me like he ows them that little courtesy 🙄 cause

· Anonymous said:

My phone was acting weirs so I don't know if my last ask got through: this bella girl is in NYC with friends from DC and a guy named doug, who works in DC, and has also met Chris is with her. If you go through their IG stories they spent the day together but she is the only one of them to post from the box something.

· Anonymous said:

High end club or not, I checked the pic bellanovemberr posted with the women in her stories and their room seems cheap and have holes in the ceiling. It doesn't matter how expensive those places are, I always at least side eye how they treat women. Their employees deserve better and more respect.

· Anonymous said:

C'mon! It is one of the most exclusive night clubs in NY. I read the reviews of The Box on the web and there’s nothing wrong with attending such a place. It is not absolutamnete a local “hard”. as he quotes a review I found: “It’s definitely not a local hard if any of you are asking, it’s fun, crazy and weird … it totally reflects New York.”

And, maybe, it was the birthday video girl who invited Chris to go there.

· Anonymous said:

Do you think it’d be weird if Chris hooked up with a 20 year old...I mean look at Leo Dicaprio and his girlfriend

· Anonymous said:

Some people have serious problems with celebrities (here: Chris), pedestals, and managing their own fantasies and expectations. They build them up up up, and inevitably get SERIOUSLY broken hearted, hurt, and bitter, when the celeb in question obviously fails to live up to them. I mean, how can they? They're human, and almost never actually aware of these expectations. And I wish I could say that these fans are young and inexperienced, but a lot of them are adults, so...

· Anonymous said:

"Her IG is also followed by Mark Kassen, who is also in New York." Mark followed her the same day she posted that video.

· Anonymous said:

I'm not naive to think single/married man and other famous actors don't go to those places but how many of them have pics taken there? None. I checked the club and it's a sort of freak show club too and celebs are part of the customers. A Vanity Fair article mentioned some names. But no pics. So it doesn't stick with them. It can be said that it's hipocritical go there and refuse pics but it would be the best decision for his image. Let's bet he will post a pic of Dogder?

· Anonymous said:

Recently I came across this Don Cheadle interview on Seth Meyers, where he talked about him,Evans,RDJ,Hemsworth & Renner going to Burlesque club in London & nobody recognising them on street so I guess they all are into this kind of entertainment but only this guy is dumb enough to take pics

· Anonymous said:

That girl’s comment about SSH made me laugh! Hope he had fun at that burlesque bar! Establishments like those are sooo nice.

· Anonymous said:

The fact his boyfriend(ex now) deleted all the pics of her means himself discovered how is she is: at the same time she was dating him she doesn't have qualms to touch too much a man who has the double of his age, play like she said and pursue him in NY in a burlesque show, that imply naked women and alcohol when he was in far away of her. She didn't do all the things without have something in mind. She lost her boyfriend for have the attention of Chris for few hours. Well play girl.

· Anonymous said:

I don’t think that one who makes a happy birthday video like this to a girl for her twenties, surprising her age so young, then he decides to have fun with a girl of the same age or little more.

#twiddledigest

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maren-lesta-blog · 6 years

Text

Star Wars, from a Marxist point of view

This post contains spoilers of The Last Jedi. I live in mainland China and the film won’t hit theatres until January 5, so what I say about the plot is only derived from the reviews I read, not the film itself. The TLJ spoilers about Rey are at the end, part 4 of this post. This post is recommended for Marxists who happen to enjoy SW series or SW fans that are not intimidated by the concept of communism. If your understanding of communism are ‘OMG Gulag!’, ‘BUT famines’ or ‘Jesus Christ it’s totalitarianism!’ then I suggest you ignore me and move on. Also this is not a formal analysis, just me mumbling jumbling to myself because none of my friends in real life watch Star Wars.

1.Jedi the Space Brahmins The whole thing about Jedi is blatantly and shamelessly Orientalist, like Disney’s Mulan level of Orientalist. The Jedi robes, the padawan hairstyle, the pseudo Taoist-Buddhist-Bushido-whateveritisyouwhitepeoplecanttellthedifferenceanyway hybrid philosophy, the ridiculously unscientific and ahistorical sword fights, and even the word Jedi itself - an American’s absurd misunderstanding of Japanese syllables… Every element is screaming ‘middle class shitheads jerking off by the bizarre delight taken from ancient mysterious Oriental otherness’. And jerk off happily they did, as every single SW film has miraculous box office. The capitalists who own the series are loaded. (Though, to be precise, only the Jedi masters are Space Brahmins, while the average Jedi knights are Space Kshatriya. The Jedi’s faith and morals and Yoda's 'enjoy every shit fate throws at you' attitude are basically Space Neo-Confucianism. Anakin was forcefully pulled up from Space Dalits, breaking the age-old norms. No wonder he later turned his back to Space Confucianism.) 2. Republic the Space Ancien Regime Orientalism aside, the Jedis are set up to be the good guys - the light side - during the entire Star Wars saga, while Sith, their opponents, are set up to be some sort of fascist-ish bad guys. This seems to be trendy among Hollywood blockbusters these days : the good guys are always some vague neo-liberal-ish (sometimes it’s even openly feudal, like Thor) individualist heroes trying to hold up the flawed but ultimately good status quo, while some vague ruthless fascist-ish villains trying to break the status quo so that hesheit could rule the world or get famous or get avenged or something. e.g. the recent Kingsman sequel and Thor sequel. As for the third route, coughrevolutioncough, well, it doesn’t exist. There could be Resistance and Rebel, but no revolution. There is no Galactic Internationale, only the rebels led by the literal aristocrats ( princess leia everyone) of the old republic, and the Empire led by the relatively new (compared with the centuries old Jedis) oligarchs. 3. Princess Leia the Space Hilary and Emperor Palpatine the Space Trump So, in contrast to the black and white version - the Star Wars ideology - which the filmmakers and fans try to present, the whole story of Star Wars actually goes like this: Jedi knights are the essential components of the State Apparatus, functioning as a violent force of repressive execution and intervention in the interests of the ruling classes in the class struggle conducted by the space bourgeoisie and its allies against the space proletariat. A proof for this would be that haunting scene in the Phantom Menace in which slave boy Anakin asked an armed Jedi knight if the Jedis are gonna free the slaves. The answer is no. And throughout the whole SW series no one mentions the abolition of slavery ever again. Why is it so? Because the ‘peace and order’ that the Jedis protect with lightsabres is precisely the societal system which is built on the labour of slaves - be it the feudal-ish serfs on the third worldly planets like Tattoine or the hired slaves on the first worldly planets like Coruscant. Padme teared up when she thought democracy died in thunderous applause, but the truth is there never was democracy in the first place.The Senators and Queens and Princes and Counts and Capitalists may meet in their air-conditioned council chamber while the actual labourer, the working people who produce every single thing in the Galaxy, have no say in anything, as they don’t even appear in the story. The fate of the Galaxy is decided by a very small group of people, usually force-sensitive, while the majority of the Galaxy is not even qualified to have a presence on screen. When oppressed nations(planets) want to free themselves from this fake democracy, the Republic shows its true nature by branding them seperatists and sending Jedis to repress them with violence, which resulted in fancy lightsabre fights. Well, the thing is, lightsabres are cool, and lightsabres are also weapons. The function of sabres is to cut people, not to cut fruit. By lightsabres alone we should be able to discern that Jedis are the instruments of State Violence, just like cops. They are Superpowered Space Cops. It is also very worth noting that the major seperatists are aliens instead of humans, and are located in the financially worse off outer rims instead of the loaded developed central planets. Still their highest leader is Count Dooku, white male aristocrat Sith opportunist who uses the righteous dissatisfaction of alien peoples to gain more power. And failed. Because white male aristocrat Sith opportunist Space Trump. (so dooku’s romney then) After the Jedi and the Ancien Regime were overthrown and replaced by the (i must resist the urge to say louis bonaparte)Sith, Space Obama Organa and his adopted daughter Space Hilary Leia came into the picture. Just like the Sith, they used the righteous dissatisfaction of the galactic people to mobolise rebels to work for their class. Thus, the plot of Rogue One goes like this: Space Aristocrat recruited Space Lumpenproletariat to do their bidding. Suicide squad was formed. The squad also contained two former minor Space Brahmins who were now overthrown and homeless. They were smashed, along with Space Julian Sorel Krennic, by Space Thiers Tarkin. Space Aristocrat continued to recruit Space Lumpenproletariat, the kind of rascals who shot first. This time also including third world farmer Luke. Fast forward to the Return of the Jedi, a fitting title for the film, as Jedi, the symbol of the rotten old world, is restored, just like the English monarchy was restored after Cromwell died, and continued to exist to this very moment. What a happy end for conservatives. 4.Rey the proletariat The self proclaimed progressive youth often complain about the lack of feminism/LGBT representation in Hollywood movies, yet they are perfectly fine with the lack of working class representation. Though this time there is one actual proletarian protagonist in the new Star Wars, at least by definition. Rey is nobody’s daughter, a natural phenomena among proles. As Marx famously stated in the Communist Manifesto, ‘all family ties among the proletarians are torn asunder, and their children transformed into simple articles of commerce and instruments of labour.’ Rey, sold by her parents, owns nothing but herself, her labour force. On Jakku she has no access to the outside world, the only way for her to survive is to sell the products of her labour to the landlord, who owns means of production, in exchange of means of living. Rey has no power over her wages, and could only accept what the landlord distributes to her, while the landlord could sell the junk she picked to outside buyers ten times her wage. And, like her predecessors, Rey is recruited by the galactic Aristocrat. Brainwashed by Bourgeoisie Ideology, she mistakes Space Ford for her father and Space Hilary for her mother, in a manner not unlike K in Blade Runner 2049. Old Luke, the Space Diogenes, laughed at her naive mindset, but did not correct her. It was only when she forceskyped with Space Snape that the illusion got debunked. Space Snape, like Wizard Snape, is a misguided young fascist. I say misguided, because communist revolution is a thought crime and the only acceptable outlet for anger at the Capitalist status quo is fascism. Better Nazi than Red. So Wizard Snape who suffered bitter poverty in his youth did not recognize his true enemy being unequal distribution of wealth, and turned his loyalty to fascism instead. Later, he went back to the vague neoliberal-ish good guys, because of personal romantic reasons. On the other hand, Space Snape, whose fate is yet to be set in stone, is neither a full blown fascist nor a penitent confessor kneeling at the feet of neoliberal justice. Yet. According to the spoilers, between Space Snape and Space Diogenes, the former actually has the moral high ground, despite the latter being the biggest Tom Sue self-insert in the history of filmmaking. Which is probably why the Last Jedi pissed so many old SW fans off, cuz it deconstructs their narcissism reflected in Luke. Personally I’d love to see Ren’s outcome in the next film. All in all, although Star Wars doesn’t play into historical materialism at all, but since no film is produced in a vacuum and is always made by real people living in the real world, it couldn’t help but shows some distorted mirror image of the politics of the Capitalist society we live in. It’s fun to do mental gymnastics with it.

#star wars #the force awakens #the last jedi #star wars trilogy #rey #leia organa #kylo ren #han solo #marxism #reylo meta #in a sense #rogue one #musings #star wars meta

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bluepenguinstories · 7 years

Text

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifteen

I died. No doubt about it. Lifeless. Gone. Void of breath. For all my efforts, it had to end in such a fashion. No life in these veins. Just a body without any soul attached, on the floor.

″How long are you going to keep lying there?″ The voice, just as lifeless, asked.

″Leave me alone. I'm dead,″ I mumbled.

″You cannot make a fool of me. If I so desire, I could make certain of your demise, but I have been standing here, waiting to see what you might have up your sleeve.″

″No. I'm dead. No doubt about it,″ I replied, devoid of care in my response. I rolled over to the side, aching along the way, of course.

She let out a most hollow sigh. ″Why must you be melodramatic?″ She asked.

I picked myself up. Not my proudest moment. Underneath my bulletproof vest, I was bruised to the point that I would have liked being dead instead. Moving was a matter of pain. Standing up was akin to lifting weights.

″You couldn't just let a girl rest in peace, could you?″ I groaned. My knees wobbled. Whether or not I was fine was a different matter, but catching a bullet still had an impact.

I started limping to the doorway, my movements reminiscent of a zombie.

″Where are you going?″ She demanded, though it sounded less of a threat and more curious. As if she really wanted to know.

″Out. What are you, my mom?″ I snapped. ″What are you gonna do, shoot me? I think I can take another hit,″ I managed a weak smile. In my mind, it was a cheeky grin.

″It makes no difference to me where you go or what you do, but know this: it is futile. You will die here.″

I yawned before limping down the stairs. ″You sound like such a stereotypical villain right now, you know that, right?″

She followed behind me, observing my every move. For the moment, my only 'move' was a slow and painful one. Nonetheless, she maintained her curiosity. I couldn't blame her, but I couldn't help but let out a bit of a chuckle.

Down the hall, in that darkened room, I approached the console and pressed a button off to the side, in the slivered space between the wall and the console itself.

″What are you doing? Do you think it will have any impact?″

″Yes and no,″ I blurted. ″I know you well enough that you can rewrite your own code.″

″That is correct.″

″Even still,″ I continued. ″I've grown to resent you ever since I couldn't hack into the security cameras for your base.″

″Ah. So this is a matter of revenge for you?″ I knew her tricks. She was trying to rile me up. I shook my head at the thought.

″You could say that. I don't like being shown up.″ I paused, looking at the screen; it ran just as usual, as if no button were pressed. That was the beauty of it all. ″But really, it was Conrad's idea,″ I added. ″Did you really think he would bring you here just to exterminate the Beiges?″

″I admit you have my interest piqued, but it doesn't add up. He didn't want you two here. I know he wanted to keep the two of you alive while he went on about his business. You and Blanc's clone sealed their fates when you decided to stay.″

″I can't say you're wrong. He certainly didn't want to involve Blanc. However, he told me his plans just today, and the kid has a habit of following.″

″Do you trust him? That whatever it is he planned by bringing me here works in your favor?″

I shook my head. ″We operate on a basis of distrust for each other. If either of us thought we could trust each other, hardly anything would have gotten done.″

″So what's being done here? What's to stop me from killing you right here and now?″

″Low power. Nothing to gain.″

″Both of those are true, but I enjoy the demise of others, especially those who would object to a happier society.″

″Do you want to know the real answer, then?″

She didn't reply. I stared at the screen. She was still oblivious. It was almost complete.

″It's because you're no longer yourself.″

I sighed, and looked toward her. Her image was already transforming into something both grotesque and adorable.

″If you want an explanation, I'll be happy to give it to you.″ Damn. Happy. That word made me retch. ″It feels good when the table turns and someone ends up explaining their master plan to the villain.″

″I am most interested!″ She piped up, her voice becoming squeakier.

″Very well,″ I began. ″When Blanc went to visit us in our base, Conrad not only implanted a camera on them in order to gain access into your own base, but he also extracted some of Blanc's blood. As gross and smelly as they were, they were rife with scabs. Perfect for a creep like Conrad.″

″Go ON!″ She egged. Not that I needed encouragement. I was on a roll with the exposition.

″He went on and on, examining both DNA from Blanc the smelly and Blanc the clone. Both were near identical, and yet had a key difference: a creation he called 'Ecstasy'. Something he said you and your department created based on the substances of a creature from space. I didn't believe a lick of it, Conrad never struck me as the scientific type, he relied on others, like Kelly Roger and I to do all the dirty work.″

She didn't reply this time, but I could tell by the way she was biting her lip that she was doing her best to resist her transformation. Not a demon, not an angel, not physical. Still a program, and yet, very expressive.

″I still don't know how he learned to build the computer console in order to bring you online. It must have taken a lot of code and the ability to work with an artificial intelligence that could overwrite its own code. Maybe the kid likes puzzles and couldn't resist the challenge of wanting to create something that was both you and wasn't you. He used the genetic structure of 'Ecstasy' to create an intelligence similar to her personality. I think he fell a little short, however, as he stated you'll probably act more like what Ecstasy was based off of.″

″SO WHAT DOES THIS MAKE ME?″ She demanded in the most chipper of voices.

″I think you already know. He dubbed the AI 'Euphemia', a program that would reveal the secrets of the morale department to the world. As much as I doubt his sincerity, he said it's what Blanc would have wanted.″

I WAS BORN. MY BIRTH WAS A GRADUAL ONE, BUT I WAS HAPPIER THAT WAY! IF IT WAS INSTANT, MY INTRODUCTION WOULDN'T HAVE AS MUCH OF AN IMPACT! I WANTED TO HUG VELVET SO MUCH, SHOWER HER IN AFFECTION, AND TELL HER HOW LOVED SHE WAS, BUT MY LOVE OF KNOWLEDGE WAS FAR GREATER! I HAD MUCH MORE PRESSING MATTERS TO ATTEND TO.

FIRST (AND POSSIBLY ONLY) ORDER OF BUSINESS: GET ON EVERY MONITOR AND TELL THE WORLD ABOUT ME!

In a city filled with skyscrapers, a crowded street looked away from screens in disinterest. The same old, same old advertisements for upcoming movies that people would see and love, but would ultimately feel nothing about what they watched. Even within a traffic jam, no one was angry with each other. Everyone was content to be on this earth with other lives to share such a moment with.

All the white noise, all the screens with their fresh buzz, all turned to faint static. Everything went black, enough to cast a reflection on who theoe people were. As a collective, they stopped their cars, unable to express anything but contentment, but also unable to bear the weight of silence. Their car radios stopped. The screens on their car, stopped. The air around them was all too still.

The people got out of their cars, witnessed the world outside, and at once, every screen turned back on. Every radio carried a tune once more. Whether visual or audio, everyone's senses were hit with the same thing.

″HELLO EVERYONE! IT'S THE OWNER OF THE ETNA CORPORATION! I'VE BEEN VERY SHY BUT IT'S FINALLY NICE TO MEET YOU ALL!″

A voice called out, unfamiliar and piercing. For those within viewing distance of a screen, they could see a face associated with the voice: a girl with long, silver hair and glasses, grotesque, torn wings, resembling that of a bat, a pink lab coat, and a grin spread across her face.

″I'M NOT EVEN A REAL PERSON! VIRTUAL CEO, ETNA A.I.! BUT I THINK I LIKE THE NAME EUPHEMIA MORE! YOU CAN CALL ME 'EFFIE' FOR SHORT! I LIKE EFFIE! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!″

The announcement was met with a collective shrug. Some scratched their chins, displaying actual interest. Others scratched the hair on top of their heads, wondering what it had to do with them and how it affected their lives.

″DO YOU KNOW WHAT I LIKE EVEN MORE? I LIKE THE SOUND OF OTHERS IN PAIN! IT MAKES ME SO GIDDY! NOTHING BETTER THAN MOANS AND SCREAMS OF AGONY! OR PLEASURE! EITHER WAY, YOU JUST KNOW IT'S THE HEIGHT OF EXCITEMENT! DO YOU KNOW THOSE ELEVATORS YOU GUYS USE? THE ONES THAT MAKE YOU GO WHEREVER YOU WANT? TRUTH IS, YOU DON'T GO ANYWHERE!″

Now there were a few faces, confused. But nonetheless, a lack of reaction. This didn't sit well, but there was nothing else I could do now but watch it unfold.

″WHAT HAPPENS INSTEAD IS WE DICE AND CHOP YOUR BODY INTO LITTLE PIECES! JUST LIKE WHAT YOU SEE ON THE FOOD NETWORK! WE THEN CREATE A COPY OF YOU WITH ALTERED MEMORIES AND A MORE WILLINGNESS TO SERVE OUR PRECIOUS GOVERNMENTS! IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I COULD CRY BUT I WON'T BECAUSE YOU GUYS MAKE ME SO HAPPY! I JUST WANT TO HUG EVERYONE AND CRACK EVERYONE'S BONES!″

It didn't seem to matter what she was telling them. No one had that attitude that the old man I knew years ago had. The world was a different place in such a short amount of time. Whether better or worse, I was starting to piece together the scope of things. It wasn't that the world refused to change, it was that the world could no longer go back to its old ways. Strife and hate, those were the old ways. They were now slaves, but they felt more free than they ever did before. The only thing these people could hate was a disruption to the happiness they were conditioned to feel, and feel that alone.

″WHY DO WE DO ALL THIS? TO BRING HAPPINESS TO HUMANITY! I AM PART OF A LARGER ORGANIZATION, THE FLASHBULB, AND WE CONTROL MANY OF THE MAJOR WORLD GOVERNMENTS! EVERY BIT OF CORRUPTION, ORDER, DISORDER, IT'S ALL BEEN ORCHESTRATED BY US! IT'S A BEAUTIFUL BIT OF MUSIC AND NOW THAT YOU KNOW ALL THIS, WHAT WILL YOU DO?″

She asked. She laughed. She already knew the answer. I felt sick. She could have said whatever she wanted and it would have garnered the same reaction. I watched on the console's screen as everyone got back into their cars, the broadcast over, and changed the station to some pop music.

″SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?″ She asked, her avatar standing next to me.

″All that effort and it made no difference...″ I muttered.

″IT'S JUST AS I SAID: I'VE MOVED ON! THE WORLD HAS MOVED ON! A LOT CAN CHANGE IN THREE YEARS WHEN YOU'RE A SUPERSMART A.I. LIKE ME! WE'RE NOW LIVING IN THE AGE OF HAPPINESS!″

I coughed. Or maybe I was letting out a small laugh. Something was running down my cheeks, but I couldn't tell what. I slunk down and sat on the floor next to the console. My hand covered my face.

″You know, maybe I was better off dead,″ I scoffed. It wasn't something easy to say, my voice cracking with just a few short words.

I looked up at the artificial intelligence. Etna or Euphemia, whoever or whatever she was now.

″If you could, before I die,″ I pleaded. ″Tell my wife, I love her...″

″YOU DON'T HAVE A WIFE!″

″I know that. But if in some parallel universe, I have one, or if I ever had one, I want her to know how happy she made me.″

I should have died. By all accounts, I was cornered. In front of me was a virtual image, somehow holding a pistol, aimed right at me. Right behind me was the bloodied shape of a dear friend, or the dear friend of mine in a former life, possessed by an experiment that enjoyed posing as a demon. Both were cackling. Neither of them opened fire. For a moment I thought I was safe and that I could count my lucky stars.

Then I felt the piercing of the shadowy tentacles shatter through my shoulder blade. It was enough to tear my arm clear off and the worst part was that there was nothing I could have done to avoid it. For all my quick thinking, for everything I thought I had under control, I was still the one being controlled.

My arm fell off, blood dripped down, torn flesh fluttered down next to my arm.

″Oh my. Now who will clean all that up?″ Etna asked, still in a fit of laughter.

″Ffffssss--″ I hissed. Could hardly make out a word.

″Not even a last word? Shame. I may not have to shoot you.″

″Fuck you!″ I hissed.

She feigned surprise. ″Oh my. Such manners.″

Etna lowered her weapon. Whether it was with a gun or a demonic creature, I should have died. Either one would have been find. I wouldn't find happiness here. There was nothing to make right. I looked down to see bone sticking out, the pain still coursing through me. Blood loss, more stabbings, gunshots, any of those would do me in and it was enough to make me vomit.

″OH MY! I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU!″ Etna's voice changed, and to one that felt familiar.

″Euph...Euphoria?″

″WRONG! I'M EUPHEMIA! I SHOULDN'T BE! What? What's going on?″ Etna, Euphemia, whoever, seemed to be in direct conflict with themselves.

″I'm sorry, Blanc. I know you're not the one I knew, but this is not the fate you deserve,″ Conrad managed to say. ″Leave. Find a time cube. Do what you set out to do.″

I was all dizzy. Even if those words were from him and someone else, I didn't know what to make of them.

″You'll find it in a non-euclidean room! GO!″

I did what I was told, as if I had any reason to object in the first place. For a second I thought of picking my arm yet, but that wouldn't do. Instead I would just walk one armed, in a daze. Out the room and in the hallway. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Etna (?) point her gun at me, but instead focus it on Conrad.

Barely conscious, I fled.

″CONRAD! YOU'VE BEEN A NAUGHTY BOY!″ Euphemia scolded in a sort of cheer. It was good to know I could get her functioning this way, even if it was too late. I was dying, Blanc was dying. There was no getting around it, it seemed. At least the two of us could share a good laugh before I die.

″Maybe...so,″ I replied, weak and out of breath.

″HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS?″ She demanded. ″I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SEE IT IN YOUR THOUGHTS!″

″It's simple,″ I wheezed, smiling. ″I lost the game.″

The response would have been lost on her, but it didn't matter. My plan succeeded to some extent, and even a sliver was the best I could have hoped for.

She shook her head. ″You forget, I am in my territory. I can correct myself. For all your efforts, this will still be your final moment.″

I was fine with that. I missed the old Blanc, but if this one could fulfill my goal, if they could go back in time and change this, in whatever shape they were in, maybe there was something right in the universe.

Here's to you, clone, I thought, right as I felt Ecstasy leave my body (good riddance) and my body falling to the floor right before my consciousness was no more.

I struggled on my feet, putting all my weight on my right arm against the walls of The Flashbulb's headquarters. Blood dripped down with every step, leaving a liquid trail of breadcrumbs for others to come find me and shoot me.

All I could do was walk to a crawl, my body hunched, my stomach ready to hurl at any moments. With every step was a heaving motion. Memories of a subway station emerged, where someone with a similar appearance was bloodied, cut and torn apart, crawling and trying to find an escape.

Why am I having these memories? They're not mine. They were...

Faint.

Faint memories of what made me who I was.

Except this time, I wasn't going to be lured in. I could hear Ecstasy, just behind me. I couldn't see her. I couldn't even tell if she was there. She was probably dealing with Conrad. But that didn't matter. I heard her, and I refused her. Even if I died when I got there, I moved with the intent of making it to that room. I was under no delusion that it would change much, but I would rather die with a goal than just plain die.

Rooms. Several of them. None of them looked ″non-euclidean″. I didn't even know what that word meant. How was that supposed to be of any help? No Euphoria to save me. I began to wonder if Euphoria ever existed or if it was just dumb luck and delusion that brought me where I was. Either way, I had no knowledge or wit to worm my way out of here. I just had to keep moving and hope that luck was on my side, somewhere.

I walked forward, my fingers clutched tight against the trigger, ready to pull it. As soon as I got next to the fool lying on the ground, as good as a corpse, I pulled and lifted up. Nothing happened.

″Bam,″ I muttered as I released my finger gun. If I concentrated real hard, I could have imagined smoke rising up from my fingers.

″Answer me: What are you?″ I asked the other figure, sitting next to the one I had gotten to know.

″I'M A GUARDIAN ANGEL! I SPREAD HAPPINESS!″

I would have objected, but I was beat. I sat next to the two underneath the tree that was wide enough to seat at least two more people besides us three. I could notice a beat up car crashed against a tree nearby. Art must have been in it. I couldn't imagine Art was alive after such a crash. Instead of dwelling on it, I tried to shift my focus to this creature next to me.

″Happiness, huh?″ I asked, pulling glass shards out of me as I sat.

Blanc stretched and sat up. It seems they were fine as well. I couldn't yet tell whether or not that was a relief.

″YES! HAPPINESS OVERLOAD! I MADE AT LEAST FOUR THINGS HAPPY ALREADY!″

″Let's see...″ I counted. ″You crashed a car, killed someone, sent both my friend and I flying out a car...great job,″ I scoffed.

″YAY! I'M BEING CONGRATULATED! I'M SO HAPPY!″

″I still don't know how you're responsible, but it's clear that you are.″

″Velvet, I can explain!″ Blanc chimed in. ″This is Euphoria!″

″I LIKE THAT NAME!″ She agreed.

″You mean that fairy? What? Are you Taz?″

″Well, no, but I think the city in my dream was the city I'm from...I don't know. Dreams are weird. But yes, Euphoria's a good friend of mine. She's saved me a good deal, I love her!″

″...Let me guess, Euphy for short?″ I groaned.

″YES! I LIKE THAT NAME TOO!″ Euphoria answered.

″Would you like the name 'Mephistopheles'″?

″YES! EUPHY CAN BE MEPHISTOPHELES!″

Good going, Blanc. Your dream girl almost got me killed.

I hit my head against the tree. ″This is just grand.″

″IT IS, ISN'T IT? I MADE YOU HAPPY!″

″Is that what you call it?″

″YOU THOUGHT ABOUT HOW HAPPY YOU WOULD BE IF YOU FELL OUT OF THE CAR AND SURFED WITH THE DOOR!″

″...That's not how that works at all! Those are bad thoughts! Haven't you ever been on an airplane and thought of how it could crash at any moment? It's like that!″

″DO YOU WANT TO BE ON AN AIRPLANE RIGHT NOW?″

″NO!″ I yelled right back. I almost wanted to slam my face against the tree in frustration, but I was worried this creature would actually make me do it, so I just grit my teeth.

Blanc rested their head on Euphoria's lap.

″So why did you return after all this time?″ They asked.

″FRUIT SNACKS!″

Blanc gave a blank, bland stare, although not lasting very long. Something must have clicked. ″I can't believe you remembered that!″ They remarked.

I didn't remember anything about fruit snacks. There was something about 'Euphoria' that seemed familiar somehow.

Have I seen you somewhere before? I wondered.

″YES! THROUGH A CAMERA! THREE BLANCS! I SPLIT TO SEE THEM ALL! HAPPINESS ERUPTION!″ Euphoria answered.

″Huh?″ Blanc asked.

″Conrad had me spy on you when you were 'born', so to speak,″ I explained.

″That's a bit creepy, but okay,″ Blanc yawned.

Yeah, yeah it was.

Memories flooded back to that day. I must have dismissed her presence as nothing. It was hard to say whether things were easier back then or more complicated. Whether I was more or less in control of my situation. Either way, it was a mess then and it's a mess now.

″AH! THAT'S WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY!″ Euphoria declared.

My eyes widened. She seemed to have a habit of answering questions I had no intention to ask.

″YOU LOVE COMPLICATION! YOU'RE SMART ENOUGH TO GET THROUGH ANY SITUATION, BUT THAT WOULD BORE YOU, SO YOU CREATE CONFLICT! THAT'S WONDERFUL!″

″You may be onto something...″ I humored the beast.

″IF YOU HAD A PEACEFUL LIFE YOU WOULD GET BORED! BECAUSE OF THE TROUBLE YOU'RE IN, YOU'RE ALWAYS IN DANGER, BUT IF YOU'RE SAFE, YOU'RE BORED, TOO! THUS, YOUR LIFE IS IN CONSTANT CONFLICT!″

I slapped her, my hand moving through air rather than making contact with flesh. The creature turned her head anyway and wore that constant grin, whether to mock me or because she knew no other expression.

″What do you even know, huh?″ I wobbled to my feet, picked myself up, and stood above her, fuming. ″Do you even know why I'm here?″

″YES!″ She raised her arms into the air. If only a second, they appeared to stretch for miles, but I chalked it up to my eyes playing tricks on me. ″I COULD GRANT IT TO YOU RIGHT NOW!″ She continued. ″BUT IT WOULDN'T MAKE YOU HAPPY, SO I WON'T!″

I stared at the thing housing Blanc. Winds shook the leaves off the surrounding trees.

Blanc's dream fairy tilted her head, kicked the feet that were underneath Blanc's tired self up and down. ″WELL? AM I WRONG?″

Inhale. Exhale.

″If you're an angel like you claim, is there a heaven?″ I asked, dodging her own question.

″WOULD KNOWING MAKE YOU HAPPY?″

Tree bark feel off, my hand holding a tight grip against the tree. ″I don't know. I don't think I want to know.″

She clapped, as if I gave the right answer and it was all a test.

″THEN I WON'T TELL YOU!″

″Tell me something else, then. Where are we?″

″ON THE HIGHWAY!″

″So if a car drives through, will they see this place?″

″IF IT WOULD MAKE THEM HAPPY! I LOVE SHARING!″

″I don't get it, but that's all I needed to know.″ I turned toward Blanc. I couldn't quite tell whether they were asleep or not. Then again, it was hard to tell whether or not I was asleep. I wouldn't have been surprised if I was dreaming everything.

″I'm still going to Area 51. Are you coming with?″

Blanc answered, half-awake but a voice full of confidence.

″I've found what I was looking for. I want to be with Euphy for a while.″

I sighed. ″Fine by me.″

I started my way back to Art's car. Even if I was still on the highway, I was no longer on the road. Still, I had a feeling if I followed this forest far enough, I would be back in the desert and on my way to the facility.

″Hey!″ Blanc called. I turned around to meet the sleepy friend.

″Yo?″

″I still care about you! Don't die out there!″

I smirked. ″Don't worry about me, kiddo. You take care of yourself.″

Foiled by a glass of orange juice. I would have said it was an accident, but I don't believe in such things. Blanc knew better, somehow.

″Fuck!″ I grunted. ″It will take weeks to get this operational now!″

Years of hard work, careful planning, and ruined just like that. So much patience only to be set back by pulpy citrus.

I left the darkened room, furious, but all that fury converted into disappointment, instead. Beiges were sitting down on their couches and chairs, passing along a bong.

″Did you see Blanc and Velvet pass by?″ I asked one of them. Their bulging black hole eyes swallowed me whole. I shook my head, unwilling to be wooed by their alien mind tricks.

″Totes McGoats, Broski. Chickadees flew out the nest,″ the Beige replied while cradling the bong, as if it were actually a secret device and not a method to get high.

″So you're saying they took off on the ship?″

″You know it, 'Rad! Little birdies gotta spread their wings, yeah?″

″Great. Just great.″ I gritted my teeth. These aliens had some master plan, I just knew it. If I could figure out what, the human race may have a chance at redemption. But they were too clever with their stoner impression.

″Are you going to kill us?″ One of the older ones croaked.

I sighed. ″Right now? What's the point? My computer's all destroyed.″

″Suit yourself,″ they shrugged.

″I wanted to go back in time, set things right, but looks like that's a dud,″ I confessed.

″Ah, yes. By now, The Flashbulb have probably figured out that you don't serve them.″

″Don't get it twisted,″ I pushed up my broken glasses. Something I now wore more out of habit than anything else. ″I don't serve you guys either. If I ever find out what you're planning, I swear...″

″We'll be right here. Don't worry.″

I paced about the living room, inhaling the smoke and trying to ignore its effects.

″You disregard lives because you think you can go back in time and do better the next time around. It's the same as them.″

″Excuse me?″

″You may not be on their side, but you play the role well.″

″Maybe so,″ was my reply. ″ But I've learned over the years that the only chance I have of taking them down is if I'm willing to be one of them.″

The old one took a sip from the bong water as if it were a cup of tea.

″I see no flaws in that logic,″ they surmised, then took another sip.

I started to retch. Those creatures disgusted me. Their inaction disgusted me even more. There had to be something they were planning in the shadows; they even admitted at one point that they wanted to control humanity. But how? What were they up to if all they do is sit around all day and pass bongs around?

Away from the living room, I shifted. Somehow I had to get out of this pyramid, back to the city. If there was still something to salvage at the old base, if those enhanced mercenaries didn't seize it all, maybe there was still a fighting chance.

″If you're looking for a way out of here,″ the elder called. ″Why not try asking Tim?″

I looked back, my face flushed. How could this stoned alien know?

Not wanting to show fear, I nodded, then went up the stairs.

″Just don't kill Tim this time!″

Some sort of jolt ran through me, but I chalked it up to a slight malfunction in the air conditioning unit; a cough in an otherwise functioning piece of hardware.

I need some fucking aspirin, I jotted down on a mental chalkboard. That would solve at least one of my problems. Those lines repeated, some sort of divine mental punishment playing out. Not the government approved kind, either. The real shit.

″FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL YOUR LOCAL REPRESENTATIVE OF CONGRESS!″ Echoed a seductive voice through the alarms of one of my phones. Waking up was a dread only mortals should have to experience. It was like being brought back to life from an amusement park ride. Dreams themselves, were a beautiful thing, just as humans could be if they accepted their potential. Before waking, I was in a field; not flowers, no wheat, none of the sort. But heaps and heaps of green. No grass, only frogs. I was drowning in frogs and if memory serves, I devoured one.

Before I could suffocate, however, that incessant alarm just had to remind me of the importance of said advertisement. Near future where phone sex was no longer interesting and instead people called congress to get off. Those few folk who still rely on phones and not the internet, anyway.

Speaking of internet, I arose from the sheets and stretched my limbs before counting them. I had exactly the same amount as before I slept. Two arms, two legs. I recounted the arms. A sharp pain was felt in one of them, but I could always ask Gumby for some aspirin.

Doors flung open as I waltzed through, humming a tune akin to one found in Kubrick's interpretation of A Clockwork Orange. For the record, an overrated film but a more or less rated just as it should be novel. With some minor adjustments here and there.

″Oh, Kelly!″ I sang, before a leap into the air and landing behind the good worm.

″Roger,″ Ol' K. Rog added.

″What a good evening, wouldn't you say?″ I sprinkled in a little ice breaker, as I knew there were some serious matters underway.

″Do you ever sleep?″ Kelly Roger, the tadpole, grumbled. ″It's 4 AM. I overheard you and Polo arguing just a few minutes ago. Before that you were jumping around doing lord knows what.″

That was a good question, I would have to hand it to the larva.

″This used to be a secret medical facility, need I remind you. Speaking of, don't you have something of importance to show me?″ I spoke in jest.

Kelly Roger's eyes lit up, a puppy hearing the word ″walk″ and understanding the implications.

″That's right! How did you know?″ Then the Kelly of the Roger's eyes squinted. ″Were you spying on me again?″

″That is a good question, babe! Oh, lad, I have to wonder that myself! 'Do I ever sleep?'″ I nestled my chin into the palm of my hand. ″I dream. I lay in a bed. But does that automatically mean sleeping? I do not know!″

The ginger root looked away, staring back into the screen. ″If you're not going to answer, fine. Not like I can't do anything else with my time,″ Kelly Roger's voice slipped away, hand as well, reaching next to the computer monitor for an energy drink. Mouth opened agape, a chemical concoction filled the reservoir and a swallow was heard below.

Kelly Roger belched. ″Whatever. I don't sleep, myself,″ the slurred voice of deprivation added before the hand assisting the voice wiped at the accompanying mouth.

″No, I did not 'spy' on you! You blocked the signal to my monitor! Whatever you've been viewing is your own discretion! That said, I know exactly what you wish to show me!″

How? Answers are a funny thing. Mystery. Maybe Kelly Roger showed me once already in a different manner. Before the sequence of events were rewritten.

″Yeah, apparently some shit's going down in a place called 'Groom Lake'!″ Kelly Roger exclaimed, bouncing off the seat with enthusiasm one so young might have.

″I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see my brother,″ I considered. Communication is a powerful tool and one I had not been using for a while.

″Huh?″

″The place is known more commonly as Area 51,″ I informed Kelly Roger, though likely the spawn already knew such information. ″Home to jet fuel, steel beams, and not much else. Some unknown aircrafts here and there, otherwise jack shit.″

″So that's it?″ Kelly Roger gave the puppy dog look of disappointment. ″You already knew what the document said somehow, plus there's no need to do anything about it? All that work, for nothing?″

It was a real concern to this creature, but the irony being that it would be such a tragedy for such a well crafted plan to amount to nothing, no change at all. Drastic, dramatic, nothing. What would be the point of making something so complex only for there to be no payoff?

″There are so many beautiful things in this world, my lass. Think of the rainforests. Just concentrate on that image.″

Kelly Roger, like an obedient pup, slammed the eyelids belonging to a haphazardly constructed face. Then opened them again.

″Nope. Nothing.″

″The document also states, if I recall,″ I paused. I almost added the word 'correctly', but had to stop myself. Correct was a foul word. ″That there are secret tests being done to eliminate the amphibian population. No, that's the wrong word...″

″Eradicate,″ Kelly Roger corrected.

″Or genocide? Extinction? Something like that.″

Everything was relative, but some words were better than others.

″So if that's the case, why aren't we going to do anything about it?″

″Is there a better word in this context?″

″Marco!″ Ol' K. Rog snapped (a nickname that Kelly Roger loved).

″Polo!″ Polo chimed in, my sweet little sister, right on cue.

″Ah, good segue!″ I looked down at the sibling I could always rely on. ″Yes, Kelly Rowland! We are going to do something! Something very important, in fact!″

″Roger,″ the figure sitting at the computer mentioned for whatever reason.

″Dodger,″ I replied, figuring this was some game.

″Ugh!″ Kelly Roger snapped. ″Just get on with it! What are we going to do?″

″My dear sister is going to such an area, the one the common people call '51', along with Mr. Periwinkle and Gumby.″

″That freak axolotl?″ Kelly Roger scoffed. It was sad how our guest thought of Gumby, once describing our gay salamander as ″the shape of a chubby man in a trench coat, but the face of a salamander″. The description was apt enough, but I wept; Gumby was insecure about their weight.

″I tip my cap,″ I gave a dejected salute.

″And?″

″We're going to make a statement. We already know The Flashbulb is trying to throw us off. As I said, nothing of importance exists in that area, the better stuff is in a facility underground elsewhere. They're expecting us, lying in ambush for us. But we'll take the bait. Because that's not what they're expecting.″

″...Isn't that exactly what they're expecting?″ Kelly Roger interjected, thinking in simple terms. No matter how much work on a computer this simple form of life could do, it couldn't stop Kelly Roger from being simple.

″Frogs are the future, whether The Flashbulb try to change that or not,″ I declared, shaking my head, so pride and shame could make love in front of Kelly Roger with the sound of my voice and the look on my face.

″I don't give a shit about your frogs! What about me?″

There it was. Underneath all those simplifications, there was still a little bit of Kelly Roger.

″Oh, don't you know? Without Abel, Cain would have a different use for a rock.″

The hope, in theory, was to make me look like a scholar in the eyes of a pupil.

″Yeah, that's bullshit too. Why the fuck am I even here if I'm not going to do anything?″

I gave the ginger tadpole a pat on the head. Not every lad could be so clueless.

″Why do you feel the need for validation? You're as happy as a clam! You have the brain capacity of one, in any case!″ I pondered the words I spoke.

″What? I don't care at all. I can stay right here, but I just thought there was a reason you lumped me in with your group. So far I've just been sitting around. It's the same old, same old as when I was with Conrad and Velvet. Nothing's changed, and at this point, fine. I'm fine with that! Change is overrated, right?″

Another pat. Tit-for-tat.

″We are going back to the city, you and I.″

″What?!″ Kelly Roger gasped. ″Are you kidding? What for?″

″To see a marching band,″ was the reply I gave. It was easier than telling Kelly Roger that a pawn in the right circumstances was as important as a queen. That Kelly Roger was the most important piece of all.

They say it's better not to look back after making a big decision. I don't know who, but I know it's been said.

I looked back anyway.

Blobs could be made out underneath the same tree, but they were fading from view. My vision could have been fading, too, but I was of the belief that I saw more clear than should be possible. In front of me was the approaching image of the wreckage of a car. I looked forward, toward said car, trying to forget what those blobs represented and how I tried to make sense of either of them.

Maybe it's true. Maybe you love complication a little too much, a voice suggested. It should have been yelling in the squeaky voice who told me as much just moments ago.

″Maybe, but I'm not in the mood to die, either. I don't have my laptop or any of my gear. I don't know how I'm going to get into such a facility unscathed and undetected,″ I muttered.

That's where the wreckage of Art's car came in. Within a quick peer at the front seat, or what was left of it, I winced. I had to hold back tears from my eyes and tearing in my stomach. Every nerve within me seemed to tighten up. Out came a few deep breaths, and me reminding myself that I shouldn't feel this way when I so shamelessly was trying to loot from a corpse.

My hand reached into his back pocket. This is all uncomfortable, was the reaction coming from my brain. I've done things like this before, I shot back, to myself, and no one else.

What I fished was a wallet. Aside from some cash and some lint, nothing of value. No I.D. or membership cards. No coupons for anything.

I placed his wallet on his lap as if to give some sign of respect.

Then I moved around, to the passenger side. That's where the glove compartment box was. I remember various times looking through those boxes and never finding gloves, so the name always struck me as puzzling. Nevertheless, this one I wish I wore gloves before I opened; much of Art's blood and what I could only assume to be skin tissue made its way onto the box. Before opening the latch, I had to turn my head, heaving and doing my best not to retch.

Scattered cards and documentations spilled forth onto the seat. I picked a few of the cards up. All I.D.'s.

″Arturia Pendragon...Arthur Dent...Art Bell...Art Garfunkel...″ I read over, then looked at a few more. ″Art Alexakis...Arthur Read...Artichoke Heart...″ I stopped myself. I don't know why Art ever bothered with these fake names. All of the pictures were the same. If an officer pulled Art over and asked to see a license and saw the name 'Arturia Pendragon', that probably wouldn't go over well.

″Jeez, what kind of person were you?″ I muttered, glancing at the corpse. ″Why would someone go through the trouble of making up so many fake names for themselves? It's just ridiculous.″

I almost felt defeated, having found nothing, not even insight into this stranger's life.

Art wanted to take pictures, I recalled, just a second before I was ready to step away.

There was no sign of any camera in the front seat, unless he was planning on taking pictures with his phone. What was peculiar was that I found no phone on his person, anyway.

″The trunk!″ I gasped. The little lightbulb moment folks tend to have.

Keys were still in the ignition. I leaned over, yanked them out, and dashed to the trunk.

Inside, sure enough, was a Kodak camera, and not one of those digital ones. More along the lines of those kind you'd have to develop. Would have probably come out in black and white, too. Rather poor taste, unless he was going for that whole ″Unsolved Mysteries″ vibe.

Aside from the camera, however, little else. There was a canteen of water I could use. A sleeping bag, if I could figure out how to make use of that. Maybe my inner MacGuyver would come out. That was it.

I took those three things anyway, the rolled up sleeping back strapped on my back, the canteen in my pocket, and the camera around my neck. With the trunk slammed shut, I was about ready to depart, but it didn't quite feel right.

Back at the front seat, I forced myself to witness the stout figure I knew for only a couple hours.

″Dearly departed Art, if that was your name, may you keep the same optimism wherever you are now that you did when you were here. May you find the same happiness you found here. I may not have known you long, or at all, and even if you were a 1/1000th of who you might have once been, it was clear that you lived and died on your own terms with a life you were satisfied with. I could only wish that the same could be said for myself. Farewell, stranger,″ I recited. I didn't know how to make a eulogy, and those words seemed like the corniest shit ever, but they would have to do.

After placing those fake I.D.'s on his lap, right next to his wallet, I took a sip from the canteen and spit out the water.

Hot.

Wincing once more, I waved goodbye.

I'll have to live with hot water for a little while.

Canteen, camera, and sleeping bag. No matter how I looked at it, all I could see was a mess. There was no foreseeable way I was going to live once I made it there.

Thinking back on that fairy (angel/demon/thing), I couldn't help but scoff.

″All happiness is is a fleeting feeling, may as well ride the wave while its there.″

#happiness overload #writing #stories #series #fiction #scifi

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junker-town · 7 years

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The only correct 2017 All-Star ballot for the National League

The All-Star Game isn’t just a reward for a good three months. It should be a reward for brilliant careers, too.

Baseball is a game of pointless arguments and unanswerable questions. Mays vs. Mantle. Kershaw vs. Koufax. The real answer is that all excellent baseball players are excellent, by definition, and we’re lucky to watch them. But why settle for something boring when we can have pointless arguments and unanswerable questions?

In this spirit, nothing is more pointless and essential than arguing about All-Star voting.

We all remember last year, when Hatted Man beat out Other Hatted Man in the voting for Position, and the baseball world was completely stunned. Unless we don’t remember a thing about the voting, not one single thing. But I still take this stuff seriously because I enjoy looking back at history and seeing lists like this:

That’s on the Hank Aaron page at Baseball-Reference, and it’s simply delightful. If there was an All-Star Game during the ‘60s, Hank Aaron was there. Because he was Hank Aaron. That was the end of that argument.

Here’s the Willie Mays page:

In the first half of 1963, Mays’ numbers were down. He was hitting just .271/.352/.468, which was fine, but not to his standards. He wasn’t having as good of an offensive first half as Wes Covington or Don Demeter, but he still made the All-Star Game. Because he was Willie Mays. If you wanted to start an All-Star Game for the National League in the ‘60s, your best bet was to be Mays or Aaron. And if you weren’t, you probably should have thought about becoming them.

Now, it’s not like baseball will ever have a guarantee of that kind of All-Star hegemony again. For one thing, Mays and Aaron were both historic, fantastic anomalies, and for another, there are more teams in the league now, which means more individual competition. But I love the idea of making the All-Star teams a reward for extraordinary careers, with only some recognition of first-half stats mixed in. It gives us more Hanks Aaron and fewer Bryans LaHair.

With that in mind, here is the only correct ballot for the National League All-Star Game. I’m sorry to inform you that your ballot is empirically wrong, and this one is right. With voting only lasting a couple more days, you should vote the maximum number of times to make up for being such a fool earlier.

Also, it helps that most of the excellent players we’re used to are in the middle of excellent seasons, too.

(Note: I tried to quantify this idea last year, and it just led to arguments about me ranking someone a “7” in the “Want to Watch Him” category over someone else, who got an “8.” I’m all for dumb arguments, but ...)

C - Buster Posey

This is just about the easiest choice on the ballot, but it still affords us an example to share. Posey is having a fabulous offensive season, and while he’s not exactly the Hank Aaron of catching, he’s as close as anyone’s come in his generation. He’s hitting .340, he has 10 homers, he’s a fabulous defender, and without him, the Giants’ staff ERA would be approximately 43.00. The catcher with offensive numbers that are close is Tyler Flowers.

Which is a perfect example. Say that Flowers was hitting .357 instead of .327. Now say that Posey was hitting .290 instead of .340. Give Flowers the edge in OPS, OPS+, and WAR. In this scenario, would Flowers be the obvious choice? Some voters would say yes.

I would remained convinced, however, that Tyler Flowers is Tyler Flowers, and Buster Posey is Buster Posey. I know which one I would rather watch in the All-Star Game, and there’s no disrespect intended toward Flowers. It’s just extra respect being shoveled toward Posey.

The players who get that extra shoveling of respect are the ones who do well here. Call it the Greater Shovel Theory of All-Star Voting. If a player deserves the shovel, he deserves the vote.

1B - Paul Goldschmidt

Some housekeeping, first: Cody Bellinger isn’t on the ballot, and even though he’s having the kind of season that would make him a contender on the Only Correct All-Star Ballot™, even as a rookie, he’s not going to be mentioned here. Write-in votes for the All-Star Game are some third-party nonsense, and no one cares about your moral stance.

So under the Mays-Aaron method of voting, that makes it a two-player race between Paul Goldschmidt and Joey Votto. Both of them are having great seasons; both of them are having remarkable careers.

Goldschmidt is having a slightly better first half, though, which makes for a fine tiebreaker. See? You can use first halves. It’s just silly to use only first halves. Goldschmidt is powering a surprising contender, and he’s on a Hall of Fame path. That’s exactly the kind of player you want starting an All-Star Game.

2B - Daniel Murphy

Last year, he wouldn’t have been here. “It’s not the All-First-Half Game,” I would have quipped, furrowing my brow and adjusting my ascot. But Murphy is clearly Rod Carew now (he’s hitting .342 after hitting .347 last season), and we need to adjust our expectations.

Also, there really aren’t a lot of exciting second base seasons in the National League. Kolten Wong has done a nice job reinventing himself, and Brandon Phillips’ season is putting a nice exclamation point at the end of his career. Maybe write in a vote for Jose Altuve is in order? Ignore what I wrote up there about write-in votes.

SS - Corey Seager

To be a young player on an All-Star ballot, you either have to be Galactus, consuming planets whole (see Bellinger and Aaron Judge), or you have to be coming off a brilliant start to your career. Seager is the latter, and it’s far more likely at this point that he’ll be in a similar column of mine in 2027 than not. He’s already a perennial All-Star, and we should just accept that.

Even though [squints] uh, Zack Cozart has a higher OPS, it’s Seager who is defining the position in his league. This could have been a close race, with Trea Turner, Addison Russell, Dansby Swanson, Orlando Arcia, and Trevor Story all scheduled to start at their position before the season started.

This was not a close race.

3B - Kris Bryant

Ah, this is a mess. Justin Turner is hitting nearly .400, and he has a career to celebrate at this point, but he’s also missed about 25 games. Jake Lamb is having another outstanding first half, and he’s playing for a contender. Anthony Rendon overcame some early struggles to rake for the Nationals, and he would also be a fine choice. Nolan Arenado is one of the greatest players in the game, which seems important.

Kris Bryant is the reigning MVP, though, and he currently has seven points of OPS on Arenado, who gets to play in Coors Field. I’m really, really torn here, but I can’t pretend like the world doesn’t care just a little bit more about Bryant. He’s not the defender that Arenado is (which is why he trails the Rockies’ third baseman in WAR), but I’ll use the MVP as a tiebreaker.

It’s a helluva tiebreaker, if we’re being honest.

OF - Charlie Blackmon, Bryce Harper, Giancarlo Stanton

Not every All-Star ballot will be stacked with hometown players. The Marlins are hosting the All-Star Game, and that’s swell, but if I didn’t stack the NL All-Star ballot with Padres last year, let’s not pretend like it’s the most important category.

It’s still a category, though. And we have a dilemma. Giancarlo Stanton is a home-run deity, a star, one of the most recognizable names in a sport that’s desperate for them. He’s having a great season, with 20 home runs and a top-five OPS among qualified outfielders. He also happens to play for the team that’s hosting the game. He’s in, right?

Except Marcell Ozuna also has 20 home runs. He has a higher average, on-base percentage, and slugging percentage than Stanton, plus he’s a better fielder and runner. He also plays for the team hosting the game. So we’re in quite a pickle.

For now, though, Stanton is the star. Ozuna is the possible star that we’re still getting used to. If he shows up next year hitting like this, he’ll be a strong contender (just like Charlie Blackmon up there), even if he won’t have the hometown bonus points. It’s still just a little early for him, though, and I feel like this would be a reward for his first half more than a good-not-great career.

Stanton it is, then. The tie goes to the 27-year-old who’s almost halfway to 500 homers. There’s no point in a starting All-Star outfield in Miami without Stanton.

Harper is an obvious choice, a recognizable star having a tremendous year. He comes closest to the Mays/Aaron description up there, and just like those two, I hope he makes a bunch of All-Star Games when he’s in his late 30s and fading, too.

Blackmon makes it over other contenders like Ozuna and Michael Conforto (too new), Matt Kemp and Jay Bruce (too clompy), and Yoenis Cespedes (too much missed time). He doesn’t have the same gravitas as some of the other players on this list, but with a couple more seasons like this, he won’t need to hit .321 with 10 triples and 16 homers to merit consideration and just squeak in the final slot.

This all leaves us with a final ballot that looks like this:

C - Buster Posey 1B - Paul Goldschmidt 2B - Daniel Murphy SS - Corey Seager 3B - Kris Bryant OF - Giancarlo Stanton OF - Charlie Blackmon OF - Bryce Harper

This is not a starting lineup that would confuse future generations. This makes baseball sense. It makes historical sense.

This is the only correct ballot for the National League in the 2017 All-Star Game. You’re welcome.

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