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[hundredsmelt]

ooc. computer freeze frame. enhance

[hundredsmelt]

from @sagekinq   :   '   i’m just saying it could be worse.   '   /   x

          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖   𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓   𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄,  and so they stand upright once more,  hands on hips,  a huff on their lips.  what really makes the stench acrid and untolerable,  the lingering black smoke tick them off,  is seeing what lies half-molten at the center of it.  a small pile of plastic things,   a bunch of vcr tapes  ( who uses those anymore? )  undone into a single helpless mass.  it was a collection of a couple years' worth,   a few passion projects by yours truly and otherwise.   a contained accident.  upon their dearly beloved.   another huff.  oh well.

            '  yeah,  well,  it could be better,   too.  '

[hundredsmelt]

the boys (season 1) starters

❝ since when did ‘hopeful’ and ‘naive’ become the same thing? ❞   ❝ since when have you ever trusted anybody? ❞   ❝ you don’t have the fight. you never have. ❞   ❝ we do crazy shit when we got broken hearts. ❞   ❝ we’re a team now. we’ll help each other out. ❞   ❝ i know that you’re powerful. i get it. your powers are no joke. ❞   ❝ thank you for an extremely weird conversation. ❞ ❝ vengeance isn’t a path to glory. ❞   ❝ i see you. i know you’re watching me. ❞   ❝ you have no idea what i’ve been through. ❞       ❝ i’ve loved you since the first time that we met. ❞   ❝ this is why it never went anywhere with us. you can’t have two alphas. ❞   ❝ what have you got to lose that you haven’t already lost? ❞   ❝ i thought i was strong, you know? made of steel. ❞   ❝ do you think i’m a fucking idiot? ❞   ❝ we’re in trouble. we’re in a lot of trouble. ❞   ❝ just when you think this shit can’t get any more horrible… ❞   ❝ will you stop calling me that? ❞   ❝ why work so hard if you don’t have somebody to go home and sleep next to at night? ❞   ❝ you don’t trust me. i’m shocked and saddened by that. ❞   ❝ you’re not the hero of this story. ❞   ❝ the people we care about…i say cut them loose. for your good and for theirs. ❞   ❝ i was thinking that maybe we could order in and catch up. just me and you. ❞   ❝ my dad always said: ‘surround yourself with people smarter than you’. ❞   ❝ every instinct is screaming at you to head for the hills, and you should listen to that instinct. ❞ ❝ i kind of feel for you. ❞   ❝ i’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. ❞   ❝ there’s no secrets here. spit it out. ❞   ❝ if i’m being honest…i’m a little suspicious of you. ❞   ❝ i’m gonna take care of this, but until i do, i got to get you somewhere safe. ❞   ❝ look, i love you. you know i do. ❞   ❝ you can’t get in your head about that. ❞   ❝ i know what it’s like to want to go home. ❞   ❝ you are literally the nicest person in the city. ❞   ❝ i can do anything i set my mind to. ❞   ❝ you’re not a bad person. just a scared one. ❞   ❝ you’re being paranoid. ❞   ❝ i don’t think i can do this anymore. ❞   ❝ don’t say i never do anything for you. ❞   ❝ i know you’re trying your damnedest to be tough…but the truth is, you’re terrified. ❞ ❝ we’re both in a shitload of trouble. ❞   ❝ what are you grinning at? ❞   ❝ where have you been? it’s been days. ❞   ❝ next time, at least have a few cards up your sleeve. ❞   ❝ it’s safe. you’re gonna be fine. ❞   ❝ you said this time would be different. ❞   ❝ that’s ‘cause you’re an old, lonely fucker. ❞   ❝ where was your first kiss? ❞ ❝ it must be hard, feeling so alone. ❞       ❝ you’re not the only one whose life was ruined. ❞   ❝ the only thing i hate more than blubbering people are boring speeches. ❞   ❝ you really think i wouldn’t notice? ❞   ❝ a miracle. you are a miracle. ❞   ❝ the smirks, the jokes…it’s all a defense mechanism. ❞   ❝ you really stood for something. but now… ❞   ❝ i really think it’s awesome. the real you. ❞   ❝ is that a threat or a promise? ❞   ❝ i know what it’s like to lose someone. ❞   ❝ we’re the same, you and i. hard outside, soft inside. ❞   ❝ your concern for me is very sweet. ❞   ❝ you’re kind of a mystery to me. ❞   ❝ will you keep your voice down? ❞   ❝ what the fuck were you thinking, coming here? ❞   ❝ you are a selfish, arrogant child. ❞   ❝ let’s be clear. i don’t know you, and i don’t want to. ❞   ❝ i’m fucking terrified. and you should be, too. ❞   ❝ i’m out of your life. you never left mine. ❞   ❝ it’s just…this place isn’t what i remember. ❞   ❝ you’re like the mold on my laundry room tiles. you scrape it off, comes right back. ❞ ❝ where’s your sense of adventure? ❞   ❝ love is just another lie. ❞   ❝ you owe me. you owe me, goddamn it. ❞   ❝ you were the only thing. you were the only thing i could count on. ❞   ❝ y…you’re a murderer. ❞   ❝ i didn’t want to come here, but i need your help. ❞   ❝ you taught me a thing or two about broken promises. ❞   ❝ it is a whole new world now. ❞   ❝ you okay? you break any bones? ❞   ❝ from now on, no more secrets. promise me. ❞   ❝ yeah. looked like you had it all under control. ❞   ❝ i am the last person you need to save. ❞ ❝ i started giving pieces of myself away and…i guess i gave away everything. ❞   ❝ you’re ‘in over your head fucked’, and you know it. ❞   ❝ you do not need to hide things from me. ❞   ❝ just remember who your friends and who your enemies are. ❞      ❝ fuck you. now get out of my house. ❞ ❝ well? say something. ❞   ❝ you can thank me for saving you sometime later. ❞   ❝ now’s not the time to be strong and silent. ❞   ❝ i came to save you. ❞   ❝ i’m just saying it could be worse. ❞   ❝ you’re gonna make me blush here. ❞      ❝ this is never gonna stop. it’s just gonna be more blood and awfulness. ❞       ❝ did i mention this is life or death? ❞   ❝ i see people for who they really are. i see you, too. ❞   ❝ surprised to run into you here. ❞ ❝ you never cared about me. i was just useful to you. ❞       ❝ i don’t know who the fuck i’m supposed to be. ❞   ❝ i’m really sorry. i’m sorry about everything. ❞   ❝ you promised to behave. ❞  

[hundredsmelt]

[hundredsmelt]

          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐈𝐒   𝐘𝐄𝐓   𝐓𝐎   𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍   that he is,   indeed,   about to talk business,   delayed by a good few minutes in the settling dust of their performance.   they notice first a previous unease and some very select stray lines of that very sober face unfurling,   a rendition of a smile,   as it were,   if the withdrawal of his blade is any reliable indication.   less indicated is the reason behind it.   not fear,   no;   acknowledgement,   likely,   and so a shred of reciprocity;    other than that,   curiosity?   respect?   he didn't strike them as the type.

          and she almost laughs as he approaches with easy,   forthright steps over the defeated lot,   now null the distance which he had so far so carefully maintained⸻   and then does laugh as he fishes the little book out of his coat,   plus the pen to go with it,   as if he hadn't a battlefield for a negotiation table.   indiscriminately noble or just honest to a fault,   nian thinks,   is yet another strange component to this amalgam of a man.   appreciated,   and no less hilarious.

          '   haha!   you serious,   man?   '   the suspended question is an implicit yes,   the answer to it a passable maybe.   a satisfactory amount,   he says:   that,   anyhow,   sure to come through.   no such thing as no use for it in the depths of her indulgence,   probably well spent on a detour or another.   he asks for something too frivolous to keep back,   too heavy-handed to cram onto a record of transactions and to never mind again.   her name,   simple as.   it doesn't print well on wastepaper,   you see.

          '   c'mon,   put that away,   you're gonna make me feel bad.   wouldn't wanna bum off the elderly,   '   they say,   laughter capped off to let their tongue stick out.   there are better ways to cash in on a bounty.   '   the name's nian,   and i'd rather you owe me a bite to eat instead.   throw in some booze and i'll call us even.   sound good?   '

⚔ ────▪ ❛ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝚃 𝙼𝙴 ? 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙻𝚈, 𝚄𝙽𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙸𝙴 . ❜

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ How long it has been since Vergil has been 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙳 in this way. The calculations of the figure before him, each move carefully chosen in order to do the most 𝙳𝙴𝚅𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 damage to such a hardy beast. He can hardly believe it ; to make an enemy of the figure would be completely and utterly 𝙸𝙳𝙸𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲. Slowly, he lowers 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙴. As if a gesture of good faith, the figure can watch as it 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚂 from fire into sparkling ashes, disappearing to wherever such 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙹𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙳 weapons go.

                          No point in brandishing a weapon he 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂𝙽'𝚃 intend to use, anyway. Despite this, his arrogant attitude does not seem to dissipate with his weapon. He smooths the 𝚅𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚃 fabric of his over coat and dares to walk forward, kicking a chunk of former-Proto out of his path. This dance has been a good one, something of 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈, though not in a sexual sense. His intrigue is at an all-time high. He must know. He must observe. He must inquire. Where a thirst for power has been 𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳, a hunger of his own has bloomed—that of 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙻𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙴, of this being specifically. Another demon like himself, or something else. The possibilities seem endless. He must know 𝙰𝙻𝙻.                           ❛ For a performance such as yours, I am granting you a 𝙵𝙻𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 opportunity. Should you accept, I will be most pleased. If not, then. . . ❜                           Vergil shrugs, casually, gesturing to the remains of their not-dance, pushing aside another chunk of Chaos from his path. He is now less than a yard from the figure. From his 𝙿𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙴𝚃, he produces what appears to be something of a 𝙱𝙾𝙾𝙺, thin and long; he flips it open, and from another inner pocket, he produces a 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙿𝙴𝙽. He writes, hurried, but elegant, for a moment. The scribbles come quickly. Dante will not mind this, not when he witnesses such elegant 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙼.                           Finally, he seems to stop, closing and tucking his fountain pen back into his pocket. He seems to fan the book, drying its fresh ink until he feels confident it won't smudge.    ❛ Do you have a 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴, vicious one ? In this day and age, banks tend not to cash these unless there is an 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙽𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 name to ' pay to the order of ' . And I presume that you will find the amount 𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝙵𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚈. It is the standard rate for hunters of our 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙱𝙴𝚁. We are fortunate to come at a 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝚄𝙼, given our ability and swift dispatch of these demon 𝚂𝙲𝚄𝙼. ❜

[hundredsmelt]

Ingeborg Bachmann, from Darkness Spoken: The Collected Poems; "Without Hope"

Text ID: outside one feels, as in a dream, / how good the world really is.

[hundredsmelt]

Only he burns bright as daylight.

Indie Arknights Lumen written by Ceri. Crossover/OC friendly. If you're interested in interacting feel free to give this post a like or reblog.

[hundredsmelt]

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

last song. fear i.noculum by tool favorite color. black sweet / savory / spicy. all of the above currently watching. the b.ear season two relationship status. yuri manga-esque complicated situation current obsession. king gizz's p.etrodragonic apocalypse

tagged by: @jetblackknight thanks <3 tagging: ermmm. you

[hundredsmelt]

Bronze gui (food vessel), China, Western Zhou Dynasty, 11th century BC

from The Shanghai Museum

[hundredsmelt]

𝐨𝐨𝐜. i actually love writing nian in combat and having her look at it like mealtime. she isn't a man-and-animal-and-anything-and-everything-eating monster anymore but i love the idea that there's an almost literal hunger to her when she fights ( and not only when she fights but i digress ) that's both always unfulfilled and held back to some extent. my girl is on a diet but she gets a little bit of violence as a treat

[hundredsmelt]

          𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐌𝐀𝐘   𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓,   a little bit,   in dinner and a show.   history calls bygone peoples decadent;   cruel,   for providing with stadiums and podiums and great loud applauses the overthrown fad of bloodsport.   nian calls them cowards for not getting their hands dirty and the full enjoyment out of the damn thing.   movements controlled,   decisive.   naught in excess of need.   but a body lives on thrills,   too.

          before her,   a shield breaks in the hands of its wielder,   the armored figure left phased and wide open.   a few of its idle minutes are more than plenty to watch this mystery man repel his own share of demons,   always distant,   never inaccurate.    even barehanded he puts on a show of curated power   —   he fights with a purpose,  or has done so in his time   —   a lack of good prey makes for lousy hunters.   nian observes with eyes and memory to tell apart human from not.   there's a blur there beyond appearances,   a nature in patchwork,   torn apart and sewn back together even after the fact.   he's definitely not just any one thing,   and it only adds to the final,   intriguing,   picture of him.   the disarmed demon at last bouncing back,   another futile charge at them.   one step to the side,   and they cast expanse of their hand over its helmet:   a set of claws to carve through iron and the heat to have it pulped.   they instead shove it downward and into the asphalt,   and it perishes halved by the descent of the jian.   dinner and a show,   the height of luck.

          '   means a lot to hear that from a pro.   what do i get for it?   a cut of your pay?   '    provoking.   let him unravel wider than the momentum of his strikes,   if he will.    child of man or otherwise,   there's sure to be a crack for one to slip under his skin.   the search is part of the fun.

          and the clear link between this man and the demons,   too;   the way it attaches only haphazardly and cannot settle on neither hostility nor hesitation,   nor words nor feelings in a real mutual exchange;   the would-be head of the demon squadron,   reduced to a one-man endeavor,   shifts,   coerced,   to place what little odds it has on nian instead.

          '   so you're not gonna come at me next,   '   sighs nian,   disappointment part mock,   part true,   part a rub of the tummy and a pick of the teeth and a call for seconds before the plate is clean.   pitiful,   the lone demon cries a cry of a lost war and sets its blade alight with electrical energy.   they eye it with mild interest.   in the end,   a trick to add to the defeated roster.   they grant it a worthy deflection,   a thick wall that materializes at the curl of a finger.   the loud clang of metal to metal rings with unnatural splendor:   a chime struck,   a spark stifled.   the wall collapses and both indulge in a lock of respective blades.   the divine forge prevails over the earth and beneath:   pulling back to again hammer at the demon's blade etches cracks upon its surface,   all with a drooping swing,   and another that swats at powerful arms,   opening a clean way through plated torso.   they split the demon's body before it can stumble to a final rest,    and it hits the ground with no semblance of motion left.

          the jian dissolves as if forgotten.   nian's arms cross,   a tilt of the chin to the onlooker.   '   so what now?   should i come at you instead?   '

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ That far, huh? Vergil was at a 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚂 for words; what did they mean by that ? Calling her a 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳 was too far? And yet, before his very eyes, the perfect picture of 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷. There was no way the entity bracing to fight the Angelos was older than twenty. There was simply no way. The thought that a demon—because that was what the figure would have to be to look so youthful, yet fight so 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈—could be older than a millennia never crossed his mind, despite his 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 being one of those very demons.

                          ❛ We shall see, then, 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽𝙴. ❜                           And see, Vergil did; his interest was piqued, yes, but he had other 𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 beyond simple observation. His eyes darted like lavender bullets in his skull, watching the form and ease with which the figure fought his creations, baiting them into striking first and forcing them to pay the fatal price of doing so. Such 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴 in their movements, too, enough to rival his own—as vain as the thought was, anyway. Vergil liked to think of himself as ultimately graceful. . . at least more than his brother, who preferred 𝙱𝚁𝚄𝚃𝙴 force and 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚅𝚈 strikes.                           This figure, though, seemed to favor both; graceful force, brutal strikes that danced like 𝚁𝙸𝙱𝙱𝙾𝙽𝚂, despite the heft of their magical sword and shield. Such a display was most definitely bravado, but they had the expertise to back such bravado up. Genuinely, Vergil felt 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙳. If a battle were to occur, such an opponent would certainly leave him bruised and broken. . . how long it had been since anyone had ever been able to do so. He almost 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳 to it, despite his diplomatic objections.                           He returns such a smirk, when the figure looks his way, and nods, offering 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚄𝙸𝙽𝙴 response to their feat. Yet he does not move, even as the rest of the formation begins to descend upon them and himself. They seem to move away from the figure, witnessing such 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙶𝙴 and choosing to fight the much less prepared foe standing casually in the corner of their makeshift arena.                           ❛ You fight well, for an 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴𝚁, ❜ Vergil muses, gesturing to the remaining formation. They pause, recognizing, but unable to stop themselves from their most prime directive—they were born to defeat any and all life that stood in the way of their master, 𝚄𝚁𝙸𝚉𝙴𝙽. They cannot understand why the man before them is so familiar, nor why they hesitate to push any further.                           When he turns on them, they step back, as if ordered to stand down; then they 𝙰𝙳𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴, shaking the feeling away. He twirls 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙴 in his hands playfully, walking toward the formation without a care in the world—the Scudo are no match for a kick of his own, not when they decide to try and strike him. So perfectly timed, the shield-arm 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 around the shape of his boot, narrowly missing his face; a single turn, and another kick sends one Scudo flying backward. they 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙴 on an overturned lamp post, whose sharp edge had been cut mere minutes before by the 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚂* that spun through. The rest of the Scudo suffer the same fate, though with Vergil's fist, and with Mirage Edge itself, cleaving the final in half.                           All that remains is the 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙾, whose tall stature does not intimidate Vergil. He grins, gesturing to the figure. ❛ There will be no battle with me today, 𝚂𝙲𝚄𝙼. Go, take your flesh from them. You know better than to harm your 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁. ❜                           And he knows he's showing off, too, completely unaware of his slip-up, as the Proto turns to face the figure with the tail and shape-shifting weapon; Vergil dusts his coat of demon blood and walks behind it, 𝙻𝙰𝚉𝙸𝙻𝚈, Mirage Edge still in one hand and his chin held high. ❛ An incredible fighter, I must say. You, not this 𝙵𝙻𝙰𝚆𝙴𝙳thing. Yet it will be so much fun to watch how you fare against it. A 𝚂𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 to match yours, of course. Defeat it, and I will 𝚂𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙴 you. ❜ As if he had any intention of doing harm to the figure. No, Vergil is intrigued, now.

[hundredsmelt]

PROMPTS FROM BETTER CALL SAUL *  assorted dialogue from season 1 of the show, adjust as necessary

oh, to be nineteen again!

me, personally, if i were held accountable for some of the stupid decisions i made when i was nineteen...

i bet if we were in church right now, i'd get a big "amen!"

they did a dumb thing. we're not denying that.

nobody got hurt. not a soul. very important to keep that in mind.

so... trespassing? that's a bit of a reach, don't you think?

call me crazy, but i don't think they deserve to have their bright futures ruined by a momentary, minute, never-to-be-repeated lapse in judgement.

you're bigger than that.

thank you for restoring my faith in the judicial system.

son of a bitch. fine.

what did you do to my brother?

why don't you look where you're going?

listen! it was an accident!

somebody call the cops!

how are you gonna fix this? what are you gonna do to make things right?

you have meddled with the primal forces of nature, and i won't have it!

do you want me to call security?

isn't that what you wanted?

you know i'm gonna beat this.

you proceed from false principles. your argument is built on quicksand, therefore it collapses.

i might as well head down to skid row and sell plasma!

money is not "beside the point," money is the point!

hand to god, i wasn't gonna say this, but you are broke.

this is what has you all worked up?

i'm the rising tide that raises all dinghies.

it could happen to anyone.

wow. you got a mouth on you.

you know what i smell. i smell lies.

i'm undercover, okay? you got me.

you already beat the living hell out of them.

i'm gonna break their arms. and i'm gonna break their legs.

i'm the best lawyer ever.

it takes ten minutes to walk down here!

you're like a troll under a bridge.

hey, you asked for me, and i have come.

what they were telling me... it's problematic.

you want to tell me your thoughts and weigh in?

you miserable piece of shit. you set me up.

you think you're funny?

i was never in the house.

you didn't... oh god, you didn't. you didn't do the sex-robot voice, did you?

that's why people hate lawyers.

how come you let me off the hook back there?

i'm going back to work. why don't you quit while you're ahead and go on your way?

finally, someone believes me!

it's human nature to want to stay close to home.

please, just don't tell anyone about the money.

you expect me to believe that shit?

i'd cut the cute attitude right about now if i were you.

you ratted on me. there will be consequences.

you know how much trouble you caused me?

i get that... but this? you're better than this.

i refuse to consider myself a victim.

are you ready for that?

i may have seen one of these before.

it's a little... sexual, maybe?

you're completely disgusting, you know that?

oh, here's your coffee. hope it's good to the last drop.

i'm asking you to take a few ounces of lukewarm coffee and spill it on him.

i'm very sorry to hear it.

anything else you wanna ask?

what exactly did you tell them?

how could you possibly think that?

why didn't you ask me? why didn't you come to me?

a deal? i hate that terminology.

you're telling us there are drug dealers and murderers walking the streets, but instead of going after them, they want to put an innocent man in jail.

you broke into a nursing home?

what number exactly did you have in mind?

so... what are you packing?

how do you not pack a gun?

what are you talking about?

the lesson is... if you're gonna be a criminal, do your homework.

i thought you were proud of me.

just save your breath, okay? you're gonna be fine.

this was the greatest week of my life.

i know what stopped me. and you know what? it's never stopping me again.

[hundredsmelt]

𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓.

            as you would expect from someone who's lived for so long,   and therefore substantially removed from human nature,   their approach to gender identity is at once nonchalant and complex.

          going by nian's provenience from sui,   and the extended period during which they enacted sui's bloodthirst upon humanity,   there used to be an alignment between the two over a sheer consummation of yang:   strength,   domination,   incandescence.   upon betraying and cursing the yanese people,   harmony between man and deity would cease to be and give way to divisive chaos.   and so,   much like sui,   nian came into existence under the guise of a debased,   prescribed masculinity.

          the reinvention of nian's self came with a new tether to awareness,   contact and nurture:   a reclamation of yin and,   out of recognition,   a surrender to humans.   the struggle of the small within a greater force was permanently etched onto nian's heart,   now more keenly open.   within mankind itself,   rebellion and defiance were constants that drew nian closer to the downtrodden and revolutionary who,   more than humanity itself,   she sought to emulate.

          in her own rebellion and defiance of the sui god,   and in a homage to the versatile and subversive strength of women,   nian adopted a more feminine appearance,   though not without her own spin on it.   hence the trade of more masculine pronouns   ( he/him )   for more feminine ones   ( she/her ).   those who recognize nian from centuries past may speak in accordance with that ancient   ( non- )   identity.   he is indifferent to this.

          nonetheless, their view of their own gender is still very loose,   that is,   unrestricted.   they're well aware of their inability to truly fit within any presets and,   if any,   they exacerbate and take pride in that aspect of their raw self.   the they/them pronouns come naturally as a way to express that fluidity,   again,   and non-conformity.

          as they observe people,   nian may find more or less interest in man-made classifications.   the better if it's a matter of finding ( making ) one's own true place,   the worse if it's a matter of shutting off venues for living life in full.   that,   to her,   an outsider,   is the importance of gender:   moving the self autonomously through a web of perception,   creating tools to carve out that path.   names,   language, are some of those tools exactly,   exclusive to humans and,   for that reason,   fascinating to nian.   how do you appear to others?    how will others speak of you,    when they tell your story?    it's a simple matter of identity.

[hundredsmelt]

“I want nothing else, only a hand, a wounded hand if possible.”

— Federico García Lorca, from Qasida of the Impossible Hand; Collected Poems (ed. by Christopher Maurer)

[hundredsmelt]

i think it’s funny how operators can just blatantly make stuff up

[hundredsmelt]

          𝐓𝐎   𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇   𝐀   𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄   they can only respond with a chuckle,   excitement taken from a simmer to a steady sizzle.   this guy's not half bad,   and if his words fall flat as soon as they reach nian's so very selective ears,   then they do just as well prove firm the dais of their conceit:   in a flurry of flesh and blade,   bright blue and brutal red,   the demons once again meet an end vapid and unsightly to the dangerous for whom both things may converge,   rent in a single breath from propulsive aggression.   meticulous,   however,   is how they find his twist of the blade.   wrought like iron,   graceful as the way it melts.

          '   aww.   i know i age like fine wine,   but there's no need to go that far   —   '

          the newer challengers share in the impatience of the slain,   but certainly look above that same brashness.   banter clipped short and deferred,   the smith's eyes revel in yet another unannounced,   decked out,   most appreciated arrival.   upon armor that seemingly swallows light where it treads,   a vigor runs like ill blood,   signifies a halfway between living matter and bonafide metal.   to nian,   nothing new,   but sure as hell nothing common,   worthy of a bit more than a spare glance,   and definitely of a hearty disassembly   —   a toast to old times and other bloody ventures.   ah,   this brings them back to the northern borders of yan,   back to that busywork they'd been stuck with.   stationed like a good hound dog,   disillusioned on its master's leash.   further back,   even;   but the killing then had immense appetite to please.   so,   here and now:   let the occasion be not lost on stray reminiscence.

          these demons,   to their credit,   can at least pick up a sword,   a making so unique it just can't go untried.   the bulkier of the lot lays some sort of command over the rest,   who show admirable obedience.   how fun,   and what perfect timing.   if this stranger is at the ready,   then she's raring to go,   make it a contest.

          '   this is the cream of the crop,   then?   sounds promising.   '    as if in defiance,   a hasty underling pushes its shield forth against theirs.   but the retaliation overwhelms it,   devastating force unto not-so-sturdy foe,   and it staggers backward to regroup.   nian's shield reclaims a sharp edge and long body;   she brandishes a new sword in tandem with a sharper grin.   forcefully,   it cleaves an opening in the formation.   swiftly,    the weight of it brings a cruel onslaught onto one,   two,   three demons,   the mystical iron dents at dark armor.   with a generous half of the fray left unattended,   the draconic smirk veers his way.   gimme some reason to try here,   will ya?

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ A fight between an unknown entity and himself is 𝙽𝙾𝚃what Vergil had in mind when he first arrived on scene; but the taunting, almost 𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 way they spoke prickled something fierce on the nape of his trimmed neck. Sweat began to trickle there, despite the relatively comfortable temperature around the two; he could not discern the entity's 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙴𝚂, and that was what he hated most. They moved like a human—swung a weapon like one. But the ability to shift a weapon from one state to another he had only seen on 𝙳𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙻 𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚂. The jian in her hand was, however, not. He could sense no 𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙲 energy from it. Only energy itself.

                          ❛ I said 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽. This fight is not for 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙽, even those arrogant enough to believe they can best what is about to come. ❜                           As if to prove his point, a gust of wind blew past him, and on its tails the saw-blade speed of a pack of 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 joining their lesser brethren. A low growl escaped Vergil's lips, but he 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙳 himself, showing of his strength only what he needed to—the last Fury to whip past him slides to the entity in two halves. From behind it, Vergil whips his spectral sword to the side, removing any 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 blood.                           Vergil simply cannot help himself, though. The arrogance in their voice pushes him to show off, and he does; in a blur of sparkling 𝙲𝙴𝚁𝚄𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽, he descends upon the Furies spinning 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 circles around them, each one sliding and coming to rest at the feet of the younger entity that he has kept the same distance from the entire time. But what is a mere pack of Furies, when much more difficult demons 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙳 upon them both, anyway?                           It seems as if they had been running from 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶, and now Vergil sees what it is—one of his better creations, from when he had split himself. A towering figure, humanoid in nature, with long, glowing horns spiraled on either side of its nonexistent face, and a lengthy greatsword to match. Flanking it are a pack of similar, but smaller humanoids. A 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙾 𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙻𝙾 and its 𝚂𝙲𝚄𝙳𝙾 underlings.                           Cracking his neck, Vergil cocks his head to the side, his slicked-back hair never once falling out of place. ❛ Though... it will be interesting to see how well you fare against one of 𝚄𝚁𝙸𝚉𝙴𝙽'𝚂 best. ❜                           Though starting in a 𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙸𝚅𝙴 position, Vergil eases, coming to rest with his spectral blade lowered once again; his intention seems clear. His interest has been 𝙿𝙸𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙳—and how better to decide this entity's 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙴 than to watch it fight something much more fun than that of a creature with only a basic instinct to devour all that it comes across.