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inkareds · 1 year

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Colonisers || MCU Namor

nav // marvel m.list // ko-fi ✧.*word count: 6k ✧.* warnings: violence, blood, murder, white ppl being demonised, a lot and I mean a lot of murder, kinda ooc Namor, focused more on the reader's journey instead of the romance aspect, kinda soulmate au (oh black panther 2 spoilers FYI) ✧.* genre: NSFW, fluff, no smut, but violence

Transitioning from a soldier, fighting for your nation's independence, to a supposed beacon of diplomacy after your nation finally was free was difficult. Especially when the man in your dreams on the days that you were more violent beckons you to the ocean.

A bit of an author's note before we start, the reader here is heavily referenced to be Indonesian, or at the very least of South East Asian heritage and the time period around 1945-1949. But both of these are kind of irrelevant if you ignore the food and geography. This is important because there are some details like the colonisers here being blonde and blue eyes (Dutch) and them colonising the 'nation' for 350 years is true to Indonesia's history.

I wanted to write more about other cultures but because I am not really the best person for that I wrote what was most personal to me. And just a bit of a warning ik I said soulmate au but Namor plays a small part here. It's mostly about the reader's struggles! Other than that please enjoy (p.s most of the references here about the war, genocide, etc etc is actually true to Indo's history)

How was it that even after 350 years of pain and suffering, you and your people had to suffer more and more? You had thought that by becoming a sovereign nation, you and your people could be free from the colonisers who plagued the fertile soils of your homeland. But they have yet to leave, and they have yet to apologize.

Even here, as you now sat, a diplomat to your country in front of the leaders of the nation who oppressed your own, they judge you. Their eyes analyse you as they try and rip you to shreds with their gaze. Was it not enough? Was three hundred and fifty years of oppression not enough for them? Would it be so terrible for them to free you all now?

All those thoughts come to a halt when your leader called you to speak. You stood when the council allowed you to, “As my President has spoken to all of you before. We are not here to ask for reprimands, we do not demand aid nor do we demand money for all the suffering your people have caused us. We simply ask that you leave. There are still many of your people on our lands, spiting our men and women. For the sake of peace, we ask that you urge them back to their home country. If this continues on, our people will act accordingly.” You warned the leaders in front of you.

Just as you and your president had predicted, they went on the defensive, one of them stood up once you sat. “Are you implying that we should take people who only share our blood but never even touch our soil back here? Those people were born and raised in your now sovereign country. They are your people now. They are no longer our issue anymore. It is not our fault that you are too blind to see you are not able to lead a country without us.”

Now it was your president’s turn to speak, you could already tell he was enraged by the insults thrown your way. “With all due respect, General, I beg to differ. The people of living within your country still think of ‘these people’ as their own. As even if they have never gone to your country, your country’s people still view them as family and vice versa. These people in our land still mock our natives. They still adopt the mentality that they are greater. If this were to continue our nation’s people will be pushed to violence.”

As the meeting droned on, you realise slowly what was happening. There will be no resolution nor an end to this. They will never take their people back because it would be too much work, not to mention the fact that they still have their people in your home means that they still have some control over your people. They can always go back once they’re ready and take back your nation.

Anxiety overtook you on your flight back home. Your only companion, your president, held your hand tightly against his own. A vain attempt to ease you. It was your idea to go to them, to ask and to plead with them. You did not want more blood to spill on your lands. Your people had seen too much war and had seen too much violence. Brutality would be etched into your history books, though you did not wish it to be so.

You wish for a better life for your people. A life where they could live just as they want to. A life farming the lands for what is in season, not what they are told to harvest. A life sailing the seas, diving the oceans, not bombing the sea beds as they were forced to.

But even as you were a beacon of peace and prosperity to your people. They can only take so much.

That much was clear when you landed on the runway and left the plane, reporters hounded both you and the president.

“Was the discussion successful?” “Do you have anything to comment about the recent meetings?” “What did they have to say about their brutal history here?” “Have they apologized yet?” “Are there any plans for future collaboration or communication?”

You stayed quiet, knowing anything that leaves your mouth would only stroke the fires of anger within your people’s hearts. You only wish for peace. An end to this war. But your president, a beacon of the brutal fight for independence, a stark contrast to yours of peace within diplomacy, had different ideas. “I will not entertain the idea of collaboration with such a nation ever again. Not after the insults thrown at my companion’s way.” he gestured towards you.

Your eyes only grew wide at his statement. This will surely anger your people. Quickly trying to control crowd damage you spoke to another reporter. “We were lucky enough to be met with respect and dignity, although it is true the meeting did not end well. I have high hopes for diplomacy between our two countries.” Before you could say anything more you were already dragged away by your bodyguards.

Packed into a small Chrysler Imperial, chosen by none other than your president himself, you were quick to criticize him. “Why did you have to say that?! No one needed to know that those foreigners insulted me. You know the effect it would bring to the people!” He looked towards you with familiar anger in his eyes.

The same anger you saw when you first worked together with him in the field against the very same foreigners you now try to have civil conversations with. “Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for. Enough with this bullshit. Enough with the tension. I absolutely hate how they treat you, how they treat me, how they treat our people.” He spoke with certainty. “Let our nation deal with them. After years of torment, we should at least let them have that.”

“You don’t understand, there are already reports of violent uprisings against the foreigners. Soon enough there’ll be murders-” “And would that be so bad?!” He looked towards you in a way a friend would, not a leader and his subordinate, not a superior and his worker. But a tired friend to another tired friend. A veteran of the war to another veteran of the war.

At that moment, the driver pretends he could not hear the private conversation his two leaders were having. “My mother was killed by those people in front of me.” he spoke your name so softly and held your hands in his. “They killed our friends, tortured our people. Would some of their deaths be so bad?”

For a second, you almost caved. You had almost forgotten how he was able to become president in the first place. After all, his charisma allowed him to lead the rebellion, lead the decades-strong fight for freedom, and now here he sat with you. A president, a leader of a broken nation. He was militant, you were supposed to be his other side, the peace, the diplomacy. You could not support this.

“It will only lead to more violence. What happens when angry people realise it isn’t enough to just kill those that are pure-blooded foreigners? What happens to the people who are mixed? Half of their being belongs to this nation. What about those who supported our oppressors so that they may continue to live? It was not their choice to fight against their own. We must protect them.” You tried to reason.

But with the way, he threw his face away from your gaze you knew he was far beyond reasoning. Despite the fact that you were the one who was insulted, he took that insult to heart. After all, he was the one leading the country, and any judgement made towards your decisions or your position in his council is judgement to his own abilities to lead this great nation. You knew that if you stayed here in the car, arguing with him, you will lose your composure and say things you did not mean.

“Driver, stop here, I can find my way back on foot.” The driver seem to hesitate, but with no further qualms from the president, he stopped and let you off the car.

When you got off, you recognized the place immediately, it was simply by chance that you got out here, of all places. Looking around, you smiled to yourself. This was your hometown, where you were raised. Sure a lot has changed ever since you left to join the fight for independence. But a lot of it was still the same.

One of those things was the kindness of the people. As you were taking in the view of your home and the smell of the salty air, no doubt thanks to the ocean not so far from where you were. An old woman walked by you, when she called your name your head quickly turned around to meet her. “You are the diplomat who’s always by the president’s side aren’t you?” she spoke excitedly.

You felt your heart soar when you heard her. “It seems my reputation precedes me.” The old woman laughed at your little joke. All before pulling out a couple of small circular red fruits, alike lychees but quite different in taste and texture. “My garden’s rambutan trees just went into harvest, take some!” she didn’t even let you protest as she pushes the fruits into your hands.

You laughed whilst thanking her. But because you left your bag in the car, you were left carrying the handful of fruits in one of your hands. “OH! I also just finished baking some pineapple treats! Have some!”

“Ma’am I really shouldn’t.” “Hush now, I have too many anyways. My grandchildren don’t like them very much. I make them for me you see, but I have to watch my blood pressure now. So you’d be doing me a favour!” A sense of joy and easiness flowed into you as you accepted her jar of baked goodies in your hands. Smiling to yourself at her excuses.

This was something you’ll never get over about your hometown. This was what you so desperately want to protect. The kindness and graciousness the people around you raised you with, you only hope to be able to inspire such emotions towards your nation’s people. You know they were raised surrounded by violence, hatred, war, and oppression. But maybe, just maybe, with your help and guidance, they can be so much more.

So you thank the old woman and went on your way to the beach. A place you’ve spent so much of your childhood and adolescence in. The water brings peace. And as now it was getting dark, there were very few people on the beach. You went to sit down on the part of the sand which was still dry and placed down the container of baked goods. Choosing to indulge yourself in the sweet fruit.

Watching the waters etch the sand, leaving behind sea foam in its wake, brought a calmness that you could only guess the fishermen you were raised around could feel. How you grew up seeing brave men and women go out to the oceans with their sails high, letting the winds take them where they need to go, only to grow up defending the very ocean that foreigners claimed to be their own.

In another lifetime, perhaps you could live from the ocean, just as your ancestors had. Instead of dealing with paperwork day in and day out inside an office. Hoping to whatever gods were listening to you that your hard work will pay off.

As you pop one of the fruits in your mouth you hum in enjoyment at the sweet taste that filled your tastebuds. “What fruit is that?” in your fun you did not sense the presence of another person on the beach with you. Your head snapped towards his direction and realised he must’ve been here a while before he spoke, as he was already sitting on the sand beside you, the heels and half of his feet buried in the warm sand.

By the look of him, decorated with piercings and beautiful necklaces, you assumed he wasn’t from here. A guess that was solidified by the answer to your question. “They’re rambutan. Have you never seen them?” he only shook his head. “You’re not from here. But you don’t really look like one of the foreigners.” You analysed. “Have one.” Trying to ease the tension of your obvious suspicion you offered one of the fruits to him. Which he gladly took.

He shrugged as he peeled back the skin of the fruit. “I am from around, but,” he paused, “Just not from here.” You wanted to giggle when you saw his eyes ever so slightly lit up when the fruit hit his tongue. “Careful with the seed.” you warned before continuing.

“Not from here but from around?” you thought to yourself before getting an idea. “Ah, you must be one of the tribe members I’m supposed to meet next week! I didn’t know they were coming so early.”

Having been a combination of different tribes and kingdoms before the foreigners came and combined everyone. You were aware of the separate needs each tribe needed once your nation was formed into one sovereign nation. So, you had invited their leaders to a meeting in the capital. You weren’t expecting one of them to meet you on the beach of your hometown though.

The man didn’t answer, you thought perhaps he just wanted to not talk about politics right now. Gods knew you needed a break.

“Anyways, would you like to try some baked goods too? The people here make the best things with pineapple.” You offered the container to him. At first, he seemed very apprehensive, but after you took one of the goods into your mouth he went to grab one. “Those are truly delicious.” he spoke absentmindedly.

You continued watching him as he ate the food. Now that you got a good look at him, he was quite an attractive man. Dark skin alike your people, contrary to his curlier hair. He was incredibly handsome actually.

“What do you think of the ocean?” he suddenly asked. You were obviously caught off guard but after sputtering a few nonsense you finally got a hold of yourself. “Uh- I think it’s- well it’s beautiful first and foremost. But I think other than that, it’s just great.” you shrugged. “In every way possible.”

Turning towards the slowly descending sun and the ripples of water that reflect its gorgeous glow, you could only sigh in contentment. “If I could, I wouldn’t mind just being in it forever. It’s probably more peaceful than whatever is happening here. Much calmer.” you whispered to yourself.

A faraway dream, you thought. When you were a child, you would dream of joining your people on their voyages out to the ocean. But because you were too young to join a ship, you imagined yourself swimming under them, meeting them as they dive into the ocean to catch fish. A few years after joining the fight with your people, when you were a young adult, you dreamed almost every night about swimming in the ocean with someone. He’d take you from the terrifying life of death and violence and bring you to the calm of the cold waters. You laughed at your own childish thoughts.

How would the younger version of you see you now? They would be proud of you a few years ago. Making plan after plan on how to outsmart the soldiers, how to defeat your colonisers. But now? Stuck in formal attire, in dingy offices, always getting disrespected by the people you were once fighting in the field against? What a disgrace you are.

“I don’t know.” After the long silence, you spoke. “I think the water just reminds me of all I could’ve done. Had I stayed here in my fishing town, perhaps I wouldn’t be as stressed as I am now.”

The man sat silent for a moment, before answering, “What is stopping you from leaving it all behind and staying here, at home?” You don’t know what it was about this stranger you just met. But it was as if you had known him your whole life.

He was electrifying to be around and you just had to get a good look at him one last time before you have to leave. Turning towards him, it would appear he had been looking at you this entire time. Flushing slightly you almost wanted to turn away. But you didn’t. You dejectedly smiled.

“I want to make a difference. Maybe it’s partly due to the way I was raised too, always wanting to make sure everyone was kind to everyone. But I’ve been on both sides of this war. The violent and the diplomatic. The diplomatic is more boring sure, but it kills fewer people. Fewer people die and I’d have to bury fewer people. If I leave now, these people won’t have that beacon of hope. I’m fighting so that my people may always see peace. After all,” you turned around to look at the town behind you.

“If those people, the ones I was raised with, can live this long with kindness in their hearts. Who's to say this nation can’t?” With that, you realised it was getting very late.

High tide will come soon enough and no matter how far you are from the shore, the waters will become dangerous. So you stood up and offered your hand to the man sitting on the sand. He had an empty look in his eyes as if he was lamenting about what you said. It then popped into your mind once more that this man might just be a tribe leader, cursing to yourself inwardly, you only hoped that you gave a good impression to him.

When he noticed your outreached hand to help him up he declined. “I want to stay here a bit longer, the ocean calms me, just as it calms you.” You nodded, completely understanding what he meant. “Well, let these fruits be your company then, cause I’m taking these delicious pastries with me.” You chuckled as you gave to him the rest of your fruits and took the container from the sand.

He then gave you the most electrifying smile you have ever seen in a person. It was a smile you felt as though you have seen before. Perhaps in your dreams, but how would you know? Those days of dreaming were far behind you.

Violence was in your days when dreams were in your nights. And you were steering clear of violence.

That night you went to your childhood home and slept there. You’d be able to find your way to the capitol tomorrow morning, but tonight, with your stomach full of fruits and baked goods, and your mind filled with the amazing memory of that mystery man on the beach, you fell into a deep slumber.

Well, it would’ve been a deep slumber, had you not awoken to screams.

Your eyes jolted awake as your body jumped itself from adrenaline. The first thing you noticed was the smoke, there was smoke, everywhere. Trying to think quickly, you let the instinct from your fighting days override your senses, you immediately took a rag and spilt some water on it. Bringing it to your nose you made your way out of your home.

There was fire everywhere. Your home was set ablaze, and it seems as though your home was not the only one. The moment you stepped out of your house, the sounds of the screams, ones which you had ignored at first filled your ears.

You had never thought you’d ever see such a sight greet you ever again since your nation gained its independence.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. All around you, buildings, homes, shops, all of them were set ablaze. Black smoke and smog filled the air as the streets were covered with blood. People were being dragged out of their homes, beaten, bruised, and slashed. You stared in horror as the foreigners flooded your hometown, dragging your people with them. They screamed obscenities as your people thrashed against their hold.

Their laughter haunted you.

Looking to your side, your eyes landed on an old woman. Immediately, just like that, everything went back to normal pacing. The fires spread as water flowed, people were running, screaming, and begging for help. And the old woman? She was on the ground pleading for someone to rescue her. A man twice her size and half her age towered above her, his hair a golden yellow and his eyes a bright blue.

He held a large wooden stick in his hands, raising it to strike at the old woman. Without thinking twice you ran straight towards the individual. Barrelling your body against his own to throw him off the old woman. She screamed in horror once she realised it was you. But you had no time to think.

The man you threw off struggled against your hold as he slammed the wooden stick onto your back you quickly reeled back. The impact from such a hard object along with the smoke slowly filling up your lungs was too much. You collapsed to the ground as you coughed and wheezed. From the corner of your eye, you saw another foreigner slam the head of the old woman into a brick wall.

At that point, you were sure she was dead.

Your screams fell on deaf ears as your struggling figure laying on the ground was kicked in the stomach by the man you originally pushed off the old lady. Pain spread through your entire body as you cried out for help.

Not here. Please not here. Anywhere but here.

Why out of all places, must they ruin the one untouched home you have left?

Tears flowed down your face as the heat of the fire filled you with pain. You heard their laughter. They laughed as they killed your people. Your friends.

“Let this be a warning.” One of them grabbed your hair and pulled it back to look you in the eyes. “A warning to your stupid president who thought our government would even listen to you monkeys. This land will be ours once more. So, give up, or die.” Your vision slowly clouded away, but in one last act of deviance, you spat at their shoes. “Merdeka atau mati (Freedom or death).”

“Mati it is. (Death it is).” You closed your eyes waiting for impact, but it did not come.

What did come was the release of your hair, and when nothing else came you opened your eyes with worry.

What you saw was unlike anything you would ever expect. There, standing in front of you, was that man on the beach. He held the foreigner’s neck in his hands with ease as he choked the man to death. You didn’t have enough oxygen left to really comprehend what you were seeing but now you were sure where you had met this man.

He was the man who brought you to the ocean in your dreams. It was him. But as the oxygen was slowly depleting from your system, your eyes started to blur. Just in time to see him rush to your side. “I’m sorry I was late.”

Was all you had heard left before you dropped to unconsciousness.

Swimming in the darkness that was the unconsciousness left you with many uncertainties. There was no telling how much time has passed or what was happening during the time that your mind was not present in your body. It was terrifying. But, in a way, it was almost comforting. Away from the duties of having to be the ‘calm’ one in the leadership position.

A part of you almost missed the days when you fought alongside your best friend. But those days were far behind you now. You had to bring balance to his anger and determination to the fight. You had to be that person. You were raised to be that person, and you will honour your people by being that person.

In the meantime, you swam and swam in the cold darkness. Where were you swimming to? You didn’t know. It was as if you were being called somewhere. Somewhere further from your understanding. Somewhere away.

“Mr President, there are already reports of murders towards the foreigners.”

“Let them be.” “But sir-” “I said let them be! Can’t you see what they’ve done to them?? They’ve burned their hometown! If anything, they’re lucky I’m not the one directly persecuting them. The people shall be the judge and the jury.”

Their conversation was simply muffled to your slowly conscious mind. But as your eyes slowly opened, your best friend was on you immediately. Seeing your eyes squint he immediately jumped to be by your side.

Groggily you looked around, parts of your body were bandaged and there were machines connected to you. “What happened?” You whispered.

He hesitantly answered. “You were found on the outskirts of the town, near the beach.” “And my town?”

He was silent.

Why was he silent?

Oh. no.

So that’s why.

The realisation hit you like a bullet. Every part of you wanted to scream out and if you could, you would’ve. But with how dry your throat was from the fire you could barely make out a few words. The only thing you could do was cry. Tears after tears fell down your face.

“What am I doing?” you hoarsely spoke, “All those years ago, when we were fighting. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to kill as many bastard oppressors in our lands. Even when you asked me to be by your side as you ruled. I knew where I was going. I wanted to protect my home. What am I doing now? I have no home to protect, no people to inspire peace. Nothing else. I have,” he felt his heart break at your proclamation. “Nothing.”

“Tell me, please, Mr. President. Tell me what I need to do. I’m- I’m so fucking tired.” This was it.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

Your childhood was seared with war and blood and pain. The only reprieve was your home, the beaches of your home, the ocean of your home, the shores, the water, the fish, and the people. What did you have now? If you ever come back, the only memories would be of the slaughter.

You had nothing else to fight for. No reason anymore to be merciful. “Just- tell me what I need to do.” Your voice cracked from your desperation.

The president simply held your hand. Exactly as he had thousands of times before to ease your worries. “Nothing. Do nothing, say nothing. Let our people show you how much they care about you. Let them avenge you.”

And avenge they did.

Two years.

It was two whole years of slaughter, violence, and dreams of the ocean and that mysterious man. Two years followed after the threat and attack of your hometown, your nation could not take the colonisers any longer. They broke. Anyone pro-colonialism or of colonial blood was slaughtered. When all of it ended, when the foreigner’s nation finally relented and pulled back any and all efforts. Signing a very official document of peace between the two of you, everything seems to end.

The murders stopped, and the violence stopped. But the dreams did not.

Perhaps it was because the violence was now etched into your mind.

Then one day, the president walked into your office. You stood and saluted him as part of your formalities. “Mr President, to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

He walked towards you and spoke your name softly. “You’ve served this country a great deal. You fought alongside me and you’ve lost almost everything.” You nodded. “I wish to relieve you of such burdens. You have given everything to this nation, and I wish to give everything to you back.”

Your face paled at his insinuation. “Are you firing me? You can’t, Mr President please. This is all I have left now. What will I do if not this?”

“Nothing! You will do absolutely nothing!” he sighed, dragging his palm down his face. “Listen, okay? I’m talking to you now as your childhood friend and not as your superior. I’ve seen how you’ve changed. I see the way you’re not taking any time to mourn. I see the way you submerge yourself in apathy. The only time I ever see you calm or even happy is when I catch you asleep in your office! The military pension plan I’m giving you should be enough to live a lavish life. Find something else to live for. Find someone to love. Find, anything!”

He was practically begging you. “Don’t let guilt consume you. Please.” You furrowed your brows as silence overtook the two of you.

All before you looked away from him. How dare he? You’ve stood by his side throughout all this time and he thinks he can just throw you away now? Does he not see how much you needed this? You need a distraction. You can’t just be left to your own devices. But he won’t listen. He never does. He’s a stubborn man and perhaps that’s what makes him the leader your nation needs. A man who’s unafraid to make the decisions necessary, not someone like you, someone who tried so hard to be kind only to have it amount to nothing.

After all, your hands know pain and suffering, it was a fool’s errand to be something you weren’t.

“I’ll have my things packed by tomorrow,” you whispered. “But promise me.” turning quickly towards him you looked at him with fire in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll do what is best for the nation. You remember that diplomacy is as needed as violence. As much as I want to see coloniser blood flood our streets, it is not what’s best for our people.”

He nodded. “I swear to you.”

That night, you dreamt of the beach. Your hometown’s beach. And of the mysterious stranger. He had winged feet and he was staring at you, beckoning you to come closer. With hesitancy, you approached him. When you were close enough, he reached out his hand towards you and every part of you compelled yourself to take his hand.

Slowly bringing you towards him he held your cheek in his other hand as he slowly angled your face towards his own. How had you not noticed his pointed ears before? Every part of him was absolutely beautiful.

Slowly pulling you in closer and closer, his lips were mere centimetres away from your own when he whispered. “Come to me.”

Then your body jolted you awake. As if working on autopilot, you jumped off of the bed and quickly dressed. All before jumping on a motorbike and speeding towards your hometown. Despite your body willing you to go immediately to the beach. You took your time.

You hadn’t had the heart to visit your home ever since it was burned from the ground. And as you looked around, everything was different. The buildings were crumbling, the stores were gone, and the people were dead. But the salty air still stayed.

The salty air.

The ocean.

That’ll never change no matter how much destruction the colonisers curse your lands with.

Making your way towards the beach, there he was. Standing in all his glory. The man who has plagued your dreams ever since you went to fight alongside the other freedom fighters. His back was turned towards you, he faced the high tides of the ocean at night time.

You were taught better than to approach the harsh waters at night, but you felt as though you were protected with him around. As if with him around you could do anything you wanted.

As soon as your bare feet touched the cold sand, he turned around. He stood so regally that it made you quite self-conscious. He smiled at you with both his hands behind his back. “It is really you.” You whispered as you approached him.

Once you were face to face, you continued. “The man in my dreams.” his smile brightened at your statement. “Who are you?” With bravery, you didn’t know you have your hand raised to his face. The man practically preened at your touch, leaning into your warm hand.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.” You tried repeating his name. The word was very foreign to your tongue and you wondered if you pronounced it properly, but with the way, he chuckled your face flushed realising you probably didn’t. “Others call me Namor.” That sounds more feasible for your tongue.

Though you inwardly swore to learn how to properly say his name.

“I am a king, a god, a leader to a nation not unlike yours,” he spoke in such a soft tone that it made your heart melt. “A nation built on violence and bloodshed. A nation whose people have war etched onto their veins. But we have long since fled from it, the threat of war is ever looming over our heads, sure. Yet my people know peace and easiness in their daily lives.” he explained to you softly.

If any other man would tell you he was a god, you’d scoff at their face and assume they had the ego of a coloniser. But this was a man with wings on his heels, he could say he was from outer space and you’d believe him. “Must be nice,” you spoke with sadness, “If only I could live in such a way.”

“You could.” Namor’s eyes bore deep into you, he took your breath away. “Come with me. I have searched nation after nation for you. The person of my dreams. You haunt me day and night and now here you stand before me. I first came to you that day to kill you. I do not wish to have my life plagued by a human, but I could not bare myself to do such a thing. And your surface world fruit tastes incredible.” He chuckled.

You didn’t even bother asking what he meant by the surface world. His offer was incredibly attractive. But you still had your apprehension. “What of my life here? What of my people here? I swore an oath to always protect them, to be by their side.”

It was then Namor held both your hands in his. “When they need you, I shall let you be with them. But I promise you now, they are content with how they are now. Be selfish, my love, and have the peace you’ve always wanted. Leave this violent land.”

Perhaps you would’ve declined his invitation weeks ago. But now, without a job, without a title, and without a hometown. Especially with the man you’ve been dreaming of standing in front of you, his face mere centimetres away from your own. It’s very hard to decline.

“Take me with you.” With those four words, his lips moulded into your own. With that kiss, he gave to you everything. And you gave him your everything.

All your pain, all your suffering, all your hopes and dreams, all of it you poured into the love you have for him. When did you fall in love with the man in your dreams? Perhaps it had happened so long ago that you didn’t even realise it. But you would’ve never thought he was real. Yet here he was. As real as daylight. And here you were, the one he thought he could only ever dream about. With all your bravery, compassion, and violence.

You were perfect, and you were finally his.

tagging people who seemed interested hehe: @omgsuperstarg @queenotaku23 @gamorxa @girlymusiclover09 @honestlyka @internetmultifandomfangirl @tzurue @marvelupsetsme @superpartyclamthing @ben-solo0 @bontensbabygirl (I fucking love ur username) @tacorei @starkgaryan @sera-wonderland (I'm sorry if it's not as soulmate au ish as you'd wish lmao I'm working on sumth else that's more soulmate-y but w/ the same concept as this) @n3v43hj @fictional-darlings

I'm sorry if this wasn't what you guys were expecting hehe. Watching Namor defend his people and watching the colonisers was just a very personal moment to me (and I'm sure a lot of people), so I made this story as a personal self-indulgent story.

#namor x reader #namor the submariner #mcu namor x reader #mcu namor #namor the submariner x reader #k'uk'ulkan #black panther 2 spoilers #black panther 2 #mcu #black panther wakanda forever spoilers

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themaeve · 7 days

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AHHHHHH! NEW CASE STUDY OF VANITAS CHAPTER! ITS BACK!

Oh yeah that's right we were in the midst of this Dham arc.

Well time for some all too relatable pain as Dante and Johann have to deal with being questioned and assaulted by THE LITERAL CHURCH

The chapter was really good. Like, it fucking hurt to read, but it was so good. Having dealt with mostly just Roland the human Golden Retriever and Olivier his dog-handler, and of course everyone's favorite traumatized murder baby Astolfo, it was different to see these Chaseurs as the cold and calculating killers they are. It wasn't over the top, it was simple "We are gonna hurt you and maybe kill you cause we can, whether you tell us what we want to know is irrelevant. No one here will stop us, and as long as no one knows, we won't get in any trouble for it."

Like, "Oh yeah, these guys ARE terrifying assholes, I forgot."

But the dialogue about the Dhams really hits this chapter.

"They're a real eyesore"

"They dress like they're advertising themselves as Dhams"

"Dhams should make like Dhams and live in the shadows, holding their breath"

And then Dante's internal thoughts, the fleeting hope that someone will come to help,

"Who exactly is someone"

"Who'd show up for us?"

"This world treats us like it can't even see us."

And he goes for the gun in his jacket... God it fucking hits. I say it every time, but so much dialogue in this manga can just have the names of things and people swapped out and you could believe it applies to so many marginalized groups. It feels more authentic than a lot of manga and stories I read. Don't know why. That's just probably my queer ass reading too much into these chapters as my own experiences, but fuck. I won't lie that I felt the connection with Dante keeping his gun in the same inner jacket pocket I keep my knife in my jacket. The same jacket with pins that people say I'm "advertising as queer" with. Johann fucking pleading for Dante not to draw his gun cause he knows his partner is gonna die if he tries. That these church goons are looking for an excuse to pin them as the aggressors so they can execute them.

And right as shit is about to happen, Domi shows up. DOMI!!!!!!!

Perfect way for Domi to start making up for her casual prejudice against Dante and Johann earlier. Domi sticks her neck out for them, against 2 FUCKING CHASSEUR PALADINS OF THE CHURCH! Like, yeah Domi is fucking awesome and powerful and an influential vampire noble, but 2 Paladins? They could kill her if things go wrong. But my girl is still here sticking her neck out for Dante and Johann. Congrats Domi, you have a chance to use your Vampire noble privilege to finally be the Dham ally you thought you were.

I love it. I love this manga so much.

#the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #Memoire 63

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blond-jerk-tourney · 5 months

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Champagne Bracket: Round 3, Poll 1

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Yoshiya "Joshua" Kiryu

He’s a bitch and a hate (love) him. I will now quote him below: "Sigh... I don't do the whole sweating thing, Neku." "Very impressive, Neku. Show those fifth graders who's boss." "Who needs other people's values? It's easier to just live by your own rules." "Oh! I can't say I'm particularly interested, but... I'll go ahead and ask, for the sake of convenience. Do you have a name?"

Smug asshole. Always playing mind games with the player character. Has many secrets but never shares them. Also did a bunch of spoilery shit.

Byakuya Togami

Very elitist, constantly calls others "commoners", talks about how he is gonna kill someone and get out of the killing game, hangs up a corpse and writes a message with their blood on the wall because he already knows the murderer but wants to see who is smart, complains the other students left him out even though he made sure to tell them every time that he wants nothing to do with them, pretty sure he screams in the 4 chapter " How can you know something I don't know?!", the only reason he doesn't qualify as a villain is cus he doesnt kill someone and in the end works with the rest of the survivors. He also constantly wants the protagonist to tell the rest what he knows

he's mean and self-centered and sees himself as above everyone else.

such a cunt 😭 doesnt eat breakfast w everyone and spends all his time in the library. (also he tampered with a crime scene but spoilers)

His title is literally, get this, "ultimate affluent progeny" Fucking look at him /hj Treats everyone as inferior in every way, even when they're trying to solve a murder he goes "how did YOUUU figure this out before MEEE???? >:0" Constantly has an "Me vs. Them" mentality about everything so he feels the need to prove himself to be superior - Messes with crime scenes because it would "make them more interesting" (purposefully incriminating someone else, who he didn't like) Actual quotes by him: "I'm only here to get breakfast. I have neither need nor desire to talk to you. Now withdraw." "You're like a child lost in the woods, you know that? A total waste of space." "You know, I still just can't believe it... That an uneducated, brain-dead, useless piece of garbage like you has survived this long." "You have only yourself to blame—you came to me with your tragic little story. I didn't ask you to. This is the real world, not some romantic fantasy fairytale."

This rich mf… He spends the entire game being a snobby, condescending, uncaring asshole. He becomes relatively nicer by the end but never stops being a dick. He also desecrated a corpse once for funsies. He’s also stupid but he doesn’t know that. I both like and hate him. It’s complicated.

He's an heir to a wealthy family corporation and he sure does act the part. He acts like he's better than everyone else and thinks they're not worth his time. He's just a huge asshole. (SPOILERS) He tampers with a murder scene just for fun and outs another student's secret alter, knowing full well it was irrelevant to the case. He also has a small breakdown about being wrong in another trial. By the end, he becomes a bit more likeable and kinda a tsundere that pretends like he doesn't care about the other survivors (but he totally does). Still very much an asshole though. He's a fucked up lil guy and something about him draws me to him. I would kick his rich bastard shins IRL given the chance, however.

He is emotionally detached from his classmates…

why you should vote byakuya "tell em naegi" thanks for watching like and subscribe

#champagne bracket #champagne bracket round 3 #polls #tournament polls #yoshiya kiryu #joshua kiryu #twewy #the world ends with you #byakuya togami #danganronpa #blond jerk tournament

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itsmaferart · 9 months

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Talking about Rurouni Kenshin 2023

I'm going to write a lot and I might have a bit of spoiler!!!

As a fan of Rurouni Kenshin from 1996, and now that a new adaptation came out this year I wanted to give a little opinion of my own, focusing on the comparisons I've seen of the current animated version with the 96 version.

However, I think that in order to see and enjoy both adaptations it is necessary to clarify several points, and the first of them is the intention behind each adaptation and which points can be compared and which others cannot.

Clearly, both adaptations have been made under different directions, by different companies and different times, aimed at different target audiences. And this can be clearly reflected from the first chapters aired to date (at the time of writing this review). Actually, I don't want to talk in depth about Jin-e Udo's arc yet, since in anime 2023 the battle between them and several of the arcs that are still to be broadcasted have not been released yet, but I think episode 6- Kurogasa, serves to illustrate how the current adaptation seeks to move away from its 96 counterpart despite being the chapters with less changes from each other.

To begin with, the contextualization and presentation of characters...

While in both the manga and the anime 2023, we are given a little contextualization of the situation. We are not introduced to Mr. Tani, the person Kenshin must protect at the request of one of the policemen, he is a rather arrogant man who currently holds a political office so he has enough money at his disposal to hire many men to protect them against the threat of an assassin. Although, at the beginning he refuses with arrogance, when Kenshin reminds him how he protected him during the Bakumatsu, Mr. Tani's expression changes radically, adding that all his bodyguards are useless since Sanosuke himself has crushed them in previous times.

Much of this context is omitted in the 1996 version, and it is only pointed out that Kenshin has to go to protect Lord Tani, in the face of Kurogasa's threat.

Also the presentation of Jin-e are very different proposals. In the original version, it is done from the viewer's point of view. We can see Jin-e ruthlessly murdering the guards until he appears in the room. In that way, we are introduced how this is a ruthless killer who makes his way.

While in the 2023 version (and in the manga) it is left to the expectation. Neither Sano nor Kenshin see Jin-e killing directly, they only see the bodies he has left in his path until he makes a surprising presence in the room just when he attacks one of the bodyguards and that is when we see him kill the bodyguards.

Here we see how the approach of both anime is very different. While the original version, seeks to focus more on the killer Kenshin will face and the combat, to convey to the viewer the intimidating feeling of a new enemy. The current version, focuses more on setting the context and showing us the relationship Kenshin has had in the past during the battles. Each chapter shows us key pieces of what Kenshin was like during his Hitokiri era, as well as how those who participated in the war relate to the current government and Meji era.

In Rurouni Kenshin the social and political context is one of the bases of its story, as it is directly inspired by real events. While the character of Lord Tani is irrelevant in many ways. It serves to expose once again that many of those who participated in the war took positions of importance in politics and economics, becoming arrogant people who use power to their convenience. Something Kenshin is against.

Now, really my point is not to talk about which version is better or worse....or if the current version is better for being faithful to the manga or if it is a bad adaptation for not being the same as the 90's version.

But to understand that the original version was never intended to be 100% faithful to the manga, but rather an interpretation using the manga as a guide. The fundamental elements of the manga are respected and maintained, at the same time subtle and continuous changes are made that change the story. I understand that many of these changes are not really important but substantially give a very different interpretation at the narrative level. While this adaptation seeks to be faithful to the manga, following almost in its entirety the events that the original format raised.

The remake is not a remastering of the '96 anime, but rather an adaptation completely detached from its predecessor to stick only to the manga. And this can be reflected in all the number of decisions that the direction has had, from not using the original voice cast, the change in the drawing style, not using the (iconic) soundtrack of the original, not remastering the ending and opening version. Evidently, the current version aims to capture a more current audience, proposing a version that is more attached to modernity. The goal in itself is not to appeal to nostalgia to please the established fandom, but to capture a new one that may or may not have seen the original. And that's why I think many people don't like the differences between the two adaptations.

In my opinion, I don't see anything wrong with the adaptations being different. In fact, I think to a certain extent it's good that they don't play it safe by copying what the '96 anime achieved.

However, despite how faithful the Remake is to the manga, I consider that it has several points to be solved that makes it subtract points.

For starters, several of the comedy scenes that ARE in the manga are omitted. (There are scenes that are adapted while others are omitted) Which, well… I understand the desire to stick to a serious tone and rhythm, I don't pretend that they add comic scenes that are not necessary. But the comedy in the manga was not randomly placed, but emphasized the dynamic between the characters and gave more contrast to Kenshin's personality which is sweet, relaxed and somewhat silly, contrary to his Battousai personality. Subtle details like Kenshin ready to unsheathe the sword, but seeing Kaoru they end up cutting their finger, I think details that make the difference.

Not to mention that really the OST is unremarkable. It's not bad, but it doesn't usually stand out with the scene. I can understand not recycling the previous one, but a new one could be proposed to go with a better scene.

Most importantly, do not raise new technical resources:

Just like the OST, I really don't think that making a carbon copy of the '96 work is the best thing to do. But it would be great if, while not using the same techniques, they at least come up with some new ones.

In '96, the change of color, the use of negative, slow motion, worked to make the dramatic scenes stand out. The drama was intended to be more impactful and contrasting with the comedy and serenity of the rest of the scene. While in the current version (2023), we can see Kenshin's face very well drawn, his anger as Battousai is clearly seen, but there is a lack of ambience that envelops us in the tragic atmosphere as Kaoru's kidnapping. Although these are just details, I hope that for future fights they will focus on giving more emphasis to the combats and manage to transmit the epicness of this work.

Finally, I think that the 1996 adaptation is an incredible work that unfortunately was not completed, and really as a fan of the original anime and manga I think it is worth giving a chance to the remake that shows a lot of potential. The voice cast seems very good (I personally like the new voice of Kenshin) and the animation is quite fluid, and I like the drawing style, however, it has some considerable details to be polished. Although at the moment there are very few chapters broadcasted, there is still a long way to go to see the best fights. The point of comparing is in a constructive way to see those details that can or could have been better in both adaptations, without detracting from the achievements that each one has. Since both stand out in very different ways.

#rurouni kenshin #kenshin himura #himura kenshin #kenshin x kaoru #sagara sanosuke #yahiko myojin #kaoru kamiya #battousai #anime 1996 #A long analysis that nobody asked for but still wanted to do #I honestly like both versions #But I have high expectations of the Saito Vs Kenshin fight #I hope the new version does a very good version of that fight #the 96 version was too brutal

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detshin · 2 years

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Just remembered how Gin said that he doesn't recall the people he killed because they are so many and god...

Just imagine the rage, the resentment, the hurt... Just how utterly insulting it would be for Shinichi, to have his life basically ruined by this guy and then find out that he was so unimportant and irrelevant to him that his almost murderer doesn't even remember or care at all.

Can't help but think about them meeting face to face one day and Gin saying something like: "I don't even know who you are" (Thanos style) or even: "Have I killed you before?"

I swear my dudes. I need them to meet. I need Gin to be mean, and Shinichi to lose his shit and puch his face in.

#dcmk #detective conan #shinichi kudo #Gin #I want drama #I want Shinichi to suffer a little #I want freaking plot dudes #I might sketch a little something later about this I don't know

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miabebe · 1 year

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I Am What I Am (II)

A man of the shadows and a woman who belonged in the skies - fate could not have brought two more different people together.

But was this fate or was this a choice?

Pairing - Im Changkyun x OC, OC x Surprise Seventeen member hehe

Word Count - 7.7K

Warnings - Nothing too explicit but mentions of blood, guns, knives, violence, (t.w) references to suicide, murder

Previous Chapter

“I need to sit.”

Na bi peered into the darkness and her eyes fell on a couch at the far end of the room. Changkyun simply watched, buttoning his sleeves as she pushed with all her might, bringing it to the centre and plopping down on it. Her legs sure thanked her, but the fire in the pits of her stomach had reignited as she looked at him from a considerably lower and painstaking angle, standing before the table.

“Why are you here Ms. Baek?”

Na bi pursed her lips in thought. Honestly, she forgot. The sight of him had blown every ounce of reasoning out of her head. Sure, driving the car down an empty freeway at 140 kmh had adrenaline coursing through every inch of her body and yeah, maybe her ‘interaction’ earlier with that gentleman in the club had gotten her to some kind of high but she didn’t think she would ever find it this hard to get it together. There was nothing she could really process except him and the slender yet sculpted build of his body. He didn’t look very menacing but he didn’t seem like he was gentle either. Na bi wondered if he was the kind who liked it slow and teasing or hard and fast, not that she would have a problem with either-

Crossing her legs to keep it all in, she leaned back into the softness of the couch, mentally and physically pushing herself to the maximum possible distance away from this man.

“Who are you?”

“You already asked me that.” The corners of his lips curled into a smile. “And I already answered.”

“And I heard you.” She tilted her head in question. “But I’ve never heard of you before.”

“Not many have.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I am a myth Ms. Baek. The knowledge of my existence is a privilege.”

Na bi let her eyes scan him down then up. Recalling the way he stayed concealed in the shadows the first time she met him, she scoffed. “Privilege or liability?”

When he didn’t clarify, she clicked her tongue, shaking her head dramatically. “So you are hiding.” She sighed. “That's sad; you were a lot more interesting when you didn’t admit to being a coward.”

Changkyun smiled, unaffected. “I don’t expect or need you to understand Ms. Baek. Ignorance is a luxury people like you can afford.”

Maybe if Na bi was less drunk, she would have been sensible enough to be offended by that but she simply pouted. “Enlighten me then.”

“What you call cowardice is gameplay Ms. Baek.” He leaned against the desk behind him. “My identity is irrelevant, so I choose anonymity. I let my work speak for itself.”

“So who gets, as you call it, the privilege of knowing who you are?”

“The few who have business with me, my men” He cocked his head, looking at her. “And you.”

Na bi felt a strange combination of fear, exhilaration and curiosity grip her all at once.

“No one else?”

Changkyun shook his head.

She took a minute to take it all in. She should have been more afraid. She really should.

“Sounds a little unfortunate if you ask me.” He raised an eyebrow as she leaned towards him, half whispering. “Having all this power and no one afraid of it.”

“I don’t seek fear because I don’t thrive on it Ms. Baek.” He mirrored her, leaning too. “Imagine what I could have done to you if fear was what I wanted.”

Na bi felt a single bead of sweat roll down her neck.

“Then what do you want from me? Why are your men stalking me?” When Changkyun looked at her expressionlessly, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t deny it. They haven’t been subtle and I’m not blind.”

“No, you’re not.” She could practically hear the amusement in his voice, like he had observed the way her eyes were all over him.

He walked around his desk, pulled open the drawer, taking out a familiar picture and threw it onto the wooden surface of the table. Na bi got up, walking closer to it, picking the photo of Ana in her hands, the same one Wonho had shown her that night.

“That’s from the cctv of my headquarters a few days ago. Your friend Ana, turned up at a location that no one other than me and my men know of, asking for me, by my name."

Na bi frowned. “How did she know where to find you?”

“Your skipping sequence Ms. Baek” Changkyun walked past her, sitting down on her chair. “How did she even know of my existence in the first place? The range of my business acquaintances does not extend to people like her.”

“How do you suppose she knew?”

He hummed. “Assumption is judgement’s biggest enemy Ms. Baek. I was hoping to have a conversation with her to let her explain herself, but that was the last time anyone had seen or heard from her.” Na bi didn’t even realise when he got hold of the lighter he began playing with. “And incidentally, while looking for her-”

“-your men kidnapped me.”

He nodded. “It was a mistake and it is my fault you got roped in this mess and so, it’s only fair that until all this gets over, I look out for you.” Changkyun watched her face scrunched in confusion. “Ms. Baek, there are a lot of dark and dangerous things hidden in the shadows of Seoul. My identity holds a higher value than you can imagine. Should anyone get the idea that you might have even the slightest clue as to who I am, they would hunt you down for answers.”

“So, all these days, your men were…” Na bi blinked at a loss of words. “Protecting me?"

He gave a small nod.

Na bi stared at him. Of all the reasons she had imagined for his men stalking her, this was nowhere on the list.

“You’re telling me that rather than eliminating someone who might be a threat to your identity which you apparently so carefully safeguard, you chose to employ your men to work round the clock to protect her? All because she was a mistake?” Na bi stared at him incredulously before letting out a surprising short laugh. “Oh, you absolute asshole.”

For the first time, Changkyun’s expression betrayed his thoughts – it was a mixture of annoyance, confusion and amusement all in one.

“Either you habitually don’t think twice before you talk,” His voice was suddenly a lot deeper. “Or you’re not afraid of much when you’re drunk Ms. Baek.”

“Please,” She scoffed. “I’m not afraid of much when I’m sober either. There is not much to fear if you’re not afraid of death, and I see death every day.”

Na bi walked up to him, her shadow falling on his darkening expression.

“You’re not protecting me and this is not just about Ana. Someone like her cannot possibly be a threat to you.”

The image of those armed men in Ana’s house flashed in Na bi’s head. The only reason another group of dangerous people were after Ana had to be for Changkyun.

“Someone else is looking for you. Someone who is a part of those dark and dangerous things you claim are in the shadows of Seoul. Evidently, they are aware that Ana has you all figured it out and they knowing getting to her means getting to you, but you....You don’t know who they are, do you?”

She walked around the chair, her fingers tracing it.

“Ana was your only link to them but she’s missing. You knew, whoever they are, if they learn of me, they will come after me instead. That’s why I’m alive, that’s why I’m being monitored. I’m bait, aren’t I?”

She leaned down, meeting him eye to eye.

“Or did I misjudge the depth of your character?”

Now that she was much closer to him, her eyes once again began wandering across his face and she wondered why she was not more annoyed or aggravated at the realisation of how she was being recklessly played around by him. Changkyun on the other hand was silent for a whole minute, looking right back into her eyes before his lips curled into a smile.

“I think I misjudged the level of your intelligence Ms. Baek.”

Na bi pulled herself back feeling victorious but he got up, on his feet, eliminating the little distance she put between them. “But you are transparent and lack depth so you think everyone is as one dimensional as you are.” This time she felt her fists ball in anger. “Had you not given in to your saviour complex and unnecessarily curious nature, you wouldn’t have become the potential target that you are now. It’s not me but you who brought you to where you are,” He took the picture from her, freeing her hands. “But just because there were other reasons to keep my eye on you, doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking out for you.”

Na bi knew those were empty words from him but she couldn’t help but feel a weight drop in her stomach. It didn’t help that he was standing so close, and it helped even less when Na bi took a step closer to him, doing the top button of his vest that he had missed.

“Prove it then.” She smoothened the fabric on his chest nonchalantly before looking up at him. “Take me home.”

“Wonho will drop you- “

“Not him. You.”

He sighed. “Ms. Baek. If you haven’t figured out already, I don’t come out in the open.”

“You said you wanted to protect me, didn’t you?” She licked her drying lips. “So, it’s you or no one.”

Changkyun’s eyes flickered down there, just for a second before he met her eyes again. “I’m inviting trouble keeping you around, aren’t I?”

Na bi smiled as she walked out, knowing he would follow.

The ride to her house was pretty silent.

In that half an hour, Na bi understood Changkyun wasn’t much of a talker. If she had nothing to say, neither did he. Conveniently enough though, he would at least answer her questions when she had any and she had very few questions.

Okay, she only had one question.

“Are you getting married?”

Changkyun momentarily took his eyes off the road to throw her a glance, clearly not expecting that of all things. Well, he for starters, he was all suited up - not a crease in sight, not a hair out of place, smelling like a very distracting combination of whiskey and roses but the watch on his hand, it looked old, like a choice of sentiment rather than style.

“You look very marry-able right now.”

“Why Ms. Baek,” His voice was laced with amusement. “Would you like to?”

“Hell no.” Na bi scoffed, looking out of the window at all the buildings whizzing by. Sure, she was attracted to him, hormones and alcohol clearly amplifying it all but that was about it. “You and I can’t possibly be meant to be.”

Changkyun hummed. In thought? In agreement? She had no idea. But that was the only conversation they had the whole way home. She wanted to ask more; of course, she wanted to. Curiosity was Na bi’s fatal flaw but either this really expensive BMW’s smooth navigation was lulling her to sleep or Seoul’s air was laced with some sort of sedative tonight – whatever it was, she was progressively losing grip over herself, so uncharacteristically, she shut up.

When the car came to a stop in front of her building, Na bi rolled her head over to look at Changkyun – he was already looking at her. She definitely wanted to say something, either a thank you or goodnight, but whatever it was, under his gaze, yet again, she forgot. Not a word was exchanged, neither was any emotion - there was no sadness over a goodbye, no longing to see each him again. But in the silence of the night and the small space that held them at an arm’s distance from each other, there was one thing that was definitely there – a meaningless craving. A desire so electrifying that she could practically taste it in the air and feel it in the way every cell in her body was fighting the idea of just pulling him closer. Na bi wondered if he felt that too; she couldn’t tell.

When Changkyun made the slightest movement towards her Na bi immediately felt her breath get stuck in her throat and her heart race in her chest. At first, he simply unbuckled her seat belt and she had begun to get disappointed but then she felt him lean closer. Though this was exactly what she wanted, though he was what her body was so desperately seeking, Na bi felt her eyes close reflexively, her hands gripping whatever it could on the seat.

“The lights are on.”

Frowning, her eyes flew open to see Changkyun still a considerable distance from her, his eyes fixed on something else entirely, far behind her. Following his line of vision, she realised he was staring at the windows of her house, the only one with lights on at 3am.

“Yeah well,” She hoped to god he didn’t notice her reaction earlier. “I don’t live in the dark.”

“Did you leave them on before you left?”

She shrugged unable to remember. Changkyun’s expression darkened as he unbuckled his own seatbelt and stepped out of his car, making her hurriedly mirror his actions.

“Wait,” Na bi pointlessly lowered her voice. “You think they found me?”

He continued staring at the window for a moment before he quickly made his way into her building and up the stairs. Swearing under her breath and barely able to balance herself, Na bi followed, stupidly trying to keep up with a man who seemed to move at the speed of light. By the time they climbed four floors and had reached her house, she was a panting mess but he was still perfect, not a crease, not a hair out of place.

“9963.” She blurted, giving him the password to her door, only belatedly realising what she had done. Before she could fully comprehend the consequences of her actions, he opened her door and stepped in. Standing by the frame, Na bi watched, still out of breath and in awe as he moved around so cautiously and so quietly, like he was made of a gas or something. It took a good five minutes of looking around before the tightness in his shoulders finally relaxed and he turned to her.

“Looks like you’re safe.”

“And of course you sound disappointed.” Na bi mumbled under her breath.

The trap they were using her to set up still hadn’t led them to their prey. If only he had managed to get his hands on someone tonight, if only he got the answers he was looking for, a lot of her problems could have been solved. Kicking off her shoes, she walked in, sinking into the couch. Changkyun’s eyes followed her across the room.

“Are you going to leave now?”

Na bi looked up at the man, pushing her urges down yet again for the nth time now. Earlier today, when he called her transparent, he was right. There was nothing hidden in the way she looked at him – the desire in her eyes was as clear as day.

But his gaze was as dark as the night. He seemed so layered and unreadable and as much as she wanted to unravel all that he kept hidden away in the shadows, she didn’t think she should. Some things were meant to hold on to, and some weren’t and as Na bi herself had claimed earlier, this wasn’t meant to be. She had to let him go.

“Stay.”

“Dr. Baek, are you listening to me?”

Instantly snapping out of her trip down the memory lane, Na bi looked up at her attending and the entire team looking at her, waiting. Realising that she had in fact, not been listening, her eyes quickly flickered between the patient’s vitals on the screen and the paper in her hand. Swallowing on nothing, she took a shot in the dark, praying to whatever gods were out there that she had analysed the situation right.

“Yeah, yeah, I shall uh… do a head CT and set him up for an LP?”

That eyebrow of her attending raised in question, lowered a little. “And get his fever under control.”

Na bi quickly nodded, taking notes and sighing inwardly with relief as the team continued the morning rounds. Close. She had been letting her mind wander a bit too much. Not only was the horrible hangover headache making it hard to stay grounded to reality, her thoughts too were all over the place, mostly trying recollect the events of last night which she had navigated drunk off her face. Now was neither the time nor the place for it but clearly, self-control was not one of Na bi’s virtues. It was only when the patient next to her violently retched and threw up onto the floor that she finally got it together and put her thoughts behind her.

An hour and three separate crises-es later, Na bi found herself catching a short break as she walked down the corridor from the pantry, looking out of the window at the greying sky. Seoul was uncharacteristically gloomy today. Peeling the orange in her hand, she popped a piece in her mouth, eyes scouring through the crowd of people scattered around, looking at their feet in particular. No combat shoes.

When Na bi woke up that morning, the sun was already way up in the sky, giving her just enough time to quickly change into a fresh pair of clothes, grab her bag and run out of her house. It was only when she had finished gobbling her breakfast and finally had some substantial energy in her that she noticed the absence of Changkyun’s men - There was no one in combat boots.

She didn’t know how to feel about that. It was evident from last night that Changkyun’s enemy, whoever that was, hadn’t identified her yet so she was in no immediate danger but she didn’t still understand the sudden disappearance of her apparent protection squad. The voice of reason in her head told her that she was merely a pawn in whatever game Changkyun was playing and this was probably just another one of his moves. Her gut feeling though, begged to differ – it said something had to have gone wrong.

It was when both voices that were battling it out in her head that she felt a tap on her shoulder and the orange peel in her hand was replaced by a small bottle.

“Drink up.”

Na bi turned to see Seokmin, her closest friend at work handing her the hangover tonic he frequently used.

“Hell no, that’s bitter as fuck.”

“Get it together Baek.” He crossed his arms. “This is a hospital; you’re a doctor and you look like shit.”

“Thanks.” She murmured, cracking the seal open, trying not to taste the horrible liquid as she drank it.

“What happened last night?”

Na bi drank slower to avoid answering. He did kindly invite her out last night and so she did owe him some sort of explanation but what even was she supposed to say? I shot a man in the leg, stole his car, met up with a mafia leader, insisted he drive me home and then we…. It sounded absolutely insane even in her head, who would even believe her?

First off, mafia supposedly didn’t even exist in Seoul. After the famous Crime WipeOut operation back in 2011, the streets were declared ‘crime free’ – the cops had been advertising their success with that phrase for years now. But everyone knew that was not true. Working in the emergency room, Na bi especially knew that was not true. Every other day, people would walk in with all sorts of injuries, claiming they “fell down the stairs” or “got hit by a car” when their wounds clearly told another story. No one would dare question them though, not when they could feel the outline of a weapon in their pockets.

And now Na bi’s encounter last night had confirmed facts. Mafia very much did exist in Seoul and somehow suddenly, thanks to one man, she found herself deep, right in the middle of it all. It would be unfair to Seokmin to drag him into it too.

“I wish I remembered it all.” That was as honest as she could get with him - there was indeed a big gap in her memory of last night's events that she just couldn't recollect no matter how hard she tried.

“I need my blue pajamas.” Na bi put down the seat of the toilet and sat on it, crossing her legs, feeling much better having thrown up. She was definitely talking to Changkyun about something before she felt her stomach turn and ran to bathroom - she tried hard to remember what exactly that conversation was about again but it was pointless, she had no idea. The earlier suited man who now somehow only had his white shirt on, appeared by the door, holding out a navy-blue set of pajamas but she shook her head. “Not these ones.”

“Nearly everything in there is blue.”

“I like blue.”

“This is blue.”

“But this is not the blue I like.”

Changkyun didn't reply but his silence was loud.

“What? Didn’t you say you wanted to make sure I’m safe?”

“And safety includes a specific blue pajama?”

Na bi slid off the toilet and walked past him to her wardrobe, pouting. “I feel safe in those blue pajamas.”

She scoured through her clothes while he stood behind her, not too close but perhaps close enough to catch her if she stumbled.

“These.” She held up an old, faded pair of sky-blue pajamas. “These belong to my sister but this is me.” She pointed at the print of small white butterflies on the fabric then to herself. “Baek Na bi. White butterfly.”

And then without a warning to herself or him, Na bi pulled her shirt over her head, stripping out of her clothes. At that point, Changkyun who’s eyes were focused on her all this while, looked away, making her suddenly very conscious of her actions. Actions she didn’t seem to put much thought into; which wasn’t very unlike her but something felt different today - it was almost like she was made of two minds. Unfortunately, the second one was hell bent on being honest and irrational.

“I think…” She pulled up her pants, adjusting the elastic, looking him up then down. “I think I’m really attracted to you.”

He turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, looking amused. “I think you should sleep Ms. Baek.”

Something did a somersault in Na bi’s chest. “With you?”

“Would you like to?” He leaned against her dresser, crossing his arms.

She mimicked him, leaning back against her wardrobe. “Very much.”

When those words left her mouth, Na bi had no idea what she expected the consequences to be. She had no idea what exactly transpired between them after that either.

As far she remembered, they were on opposite ends of the room and she was looking into his unreadable eyes for just one clue about what he wanted. Then, suddenly, somehow, they were standing right across each other, inches apart in a loud silence where she could only hear her heart race in her chest. She didn't know if Changkyun felt even an ounce of what she was feeling, or if he too wanted her as much as she craved him and there was only one way to find out.

Lord knows where Na bi got the courage, or why she gave into the stupidity but impulsively, she got on her tiptoes, hands grabbing his shirt to pull him closer and let her lips softly brush his, which to her surprise, parted. Na bi saw a hundred different things flash in his eyes, but none of them seemed like a no, so she kissed him again, more certain this time, closing the gap till there was nothing between them. His hands grabbed her waist as she stumbled, setting off something hot in her chest.

And just like that they walked back entwined, lips not leaving each other till the back of his knees hit her bed, prompting her to push him onto it, finally giving them the space to breathe. Changkyun looked up at her with his hooded eyes, his hands sinking into the comforter behind him. There was something undeniably hot about him just sitting on her bed like that, doing nothing but watching her. He was letting her make the moves.

And so she did, standing between his thighs, taking his face into her hands, leaning forward to kiss him once again. She didn’t know if his arm wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap, or if she climbed on the bed, straddling him, but here they were, just mouths moving, tongues roaming and hearts beating real fast. Na bi felt herself getting lost in that pleasure, her hips naturally finding a rhythm against him but his arm around her held her in place. He lifted her and with a swift motion, her back hit the bed and he was hovering above her, exploring her face with his eyes. She pushed the strand of his hair which escaped its place, before she noticed the small healed wound on his eyebrows, her fingers tracing them.

“What happened here?”

One breath.

Then two.

“Hit the corner of the table when I was running away.”

“Running away from what?”

“The people who killed my family.”

Na bi blinked – she did not expect that candor. Or his lack of hesitation.

She stroked it softly, “Does it still hurt?”

What a pointless question. The wound looked old, like it had been years since he got it. Na bi realised with a pang in her chest that he must’ve been young when this happened. It must hurt like hell.

She propped herself on her elbows and reached up, planting a small kiss on it, obviously a very apt medical solution. “Better?”

For the first time, he let out a soft laugh, a genuine one.

Na bi kissed it again and again and again, slowly making her way down his face, finding his lips with hers once more. Yet again, time was lost on her. She just felt an undeniable, craving need for him, to feel him, to own him. This is what it must feel like to burn from within.

She let herself sink into the softness of her comforter, freeing her hands to unbutton his shirt when his arm under her tightened pushing her up her bed, neither action hindering their mouths on each other. Na bi had her fair share of experience with men but nothing ever felt like this and they weren't even doing much. The attraction she felt towards him was like never before, it didn't even allow her to think rationally. She knew they should stop - she was drunk and he was a stranger, a dangerous one at that, but she couldn't bring herself to. And just as she wondered if he too could not stop himself, she felt him pull back.

“Na bi….” His voice was so soft? “You should sleep.”

“Don’t want to….” She muttered, pulling him closer, but he didn’t give in.

“Sleep.”

He rolled off her as she groaned, pulling herself together, curling up into a comfortable position. He was right - even though she wanted him, her body needed sleep. And to stop this madness. She tucked her palm under her head and watched him by the frame of her bedroom door, buttoning his shirt, looking back at her.

She had expected him to be gone before she knew it.

“Aren’t you going to go?”

“I’ll leave when you sleep.”

The stomach somersaults were back.

“Will I ever see you again?”

He didn’t answer her question.

“Don’t go around doing something stupid.”

She chuckled, pulling her sheets closer, feeling her eyes flutter shut under the warmth of the covers. “You don’t mean that." She yawned. "Because if I don’t then your enemies won’t find me. And if they don’t find me, you won’t find them.”

“Ms. Baek,” Na bi looked at him one last time as sleep finally took her in. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Trying to ignore Changkyun’s last words still ringing in her mind, Na bi pulled herself back to reality, continuing the conservation. “I should’ve let you know before I left Min-ah, sorry.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Seokmin leaned against the window. “I worry about safety. It can get crazy out there.”

Na bi nodded. He had no idea.

She had no idea about a lot of things either.

She had no idea what Changkyn’s actions last night meant. Or his words. Was he attracted to her? If he was then why did he stop? And if he wasn’t, didn’t that mean he was using her, just like she suspected he was? And if he was using her then why did he ask her not to do anything crazy? How was she of any use to him if she wasn’t an efficient trap? Or was she wrong? Was she not a bait? And he truly mean what he said about looking out for her? But if he did mean that then where were all his men today??

Na bi felt like she could crush the bottle she was holding with her bare hands. All these questions were just turning into a never-ending loop that she was stuck right in the middle of with no answers and no escape. She needed to get her mind off all this.

“Crazy workload today?” She pointed at all the case files in her friend's hand, desperate for a change of topic. He shook his head, looking down at the corridor as a patient was wheeled out, white sheet covering their face. When a hand slipped from under the covers from the inertia, Na bi noticed the cut across the wrist.

“There was nothing I could do.” Seokmin sighed. “He bled out.”

“Cut that deep?”

“Two cuts. One on each wrist.”

Na bi felt the bile rise in her throat.

“Let me guess, family doesn’t suspect any foul play?”

“The usual.”

Seokmin handed the files to the intern who meekly walked up to him before she took them and rushed off.

Everyone in the ER knew of these cases, Na bi had seen a couple of them up close before – cases determined as self-inflicted injury, completely ignoring the fact that it was not one but two clean cuts on both wrists. Anyone with a pair of eyes and a brain could tell that was clearly not self inflicted but somehow, these cases would never reach the point of investigation. The family didn't dare push them and medical staff did not have the authority to – they just went on to become yet another record on paper.

The mere thought of such cruelty made Na bi's stomach turn. She wondered how anyone believed that evil did not exist in Seoul when she saw evidence of it in every corner, at every given moment - even the very next one.

Ambulance sirens.

Both her and Seokmin immediately looked at each other, ears perking at the sound of not one, not two but sirens of seven ambulances getting increasingly loud.

True to her training, Na bi immediately flung the bottle in her hand into a nearby trashcan and rushed to the entrance with Seokmin right behind her, pulling her hair into a higher and tighter ponytail. The rest of the doctors and nurses had already assembled, prepping to take on the load of cases that was about to walk in. But given that 'smooth-sailing' was just not a part of the emergency department's vocabulary, the head nurse ran up to her, a worried look on her face. “Dr. Baek, Dr. Yoo isn’t here.”

Fuck, she forgot - the attending had left right after morning rounds for a conference in Busan which meant-

“Jaehyun is in charge.” Seokmin concluded, voicing her thoughts as the three of them turned and looked across the corridor.

Jaehyun's face was as white as the wall behind him, hands shaking. Shit. Sure he was two years her senior which theoretically meant he was the most experienced person here to lead the room but Na bi knew he didn't have the stomach for what was coming; especially when the hospital doors opened and all she saw was blood. Blood, blood, blood, everywhere.

“Who’s in charge?” A paramedic looked around urgently while Na bi continued looking at a frozen Jaehyun. “Who’s in charge???”

There was no time for incompetence. Not right now.

“I’m taking over.” She whispered to Seokmin before she stepped up. “Me, Dr. Baek. What happened?”

“Traffic accident.” He panted. “That’s what they said on the call but I don’t think so. Seems more like a…..”

Na bi looked around the room, her vision tunneling on the details. There were almost 40 men, most of them were severely injured, but it was definitely not a traffic accident. They had massive gashes, wounds that looked like they were cut by something sharp, like a knife. The bruises on their eyes and mouth, those were obviously landed from a fist and the way some of their ribs and arms seemed broken, this was definitely a -

“Gang fight.” They said at the same time.

“They’re criminals.” Seokmin whispered, his voice laced with hesitancy.

Na bi took a deep breath and slipped on her gloves. “And we’re doctors.”

Na bi closed the door of the storage room behind her, finally getting away from it all.

It had been 3 hours. 3 intensive hours but to be honest, it wasn’t as bad as she expected; she had seen far worse days. While there was copious amounts of blood, the wounds weren’t so deep or severe that a few stitches and dressing couldn’t handle. About five of them had to be sent for emergency surgery and were now being monitored in the intensive care. Those who had fractures were scanned and appropriately bandaged and those who had rushed here accompanying their companions were detained in a separate room till the cops arrived.

Na bi had no choice but to ask Seokmin to call for law enforcement. Given how they were taking their own sweet time to come, maybe she was mistaken about the gravity of the situation but she had assumed that she couldn’t just brush 40 people injured by violence under the rug – it was necessary to get the police involved. Regardless of the fact that every single one of those brought in was wearing combat boots.

Cracking the joints of her neck, she gripped the metal bars of the shelf before her and briefly shut her eyes.

The faces of those who were brought in today flashed before her– she didn’t recognise any of them. None of those who used to follow her were there, neither was Wonho and neither was Changkyun. Na bi didn’t know why it was necessary for her to find out but the moment she noticed the combat boots, her first instinct was to look for Changkyun. It wasn’t like she deeply cared for him or anything; it was more because of curiosity. Of course, it was plain old curiosity, what else could it be-

Her eyes flew open at the subtle sound of the carboard boxes - Someone was in the room.

Pretending not to notice, yet extremely cautiously, she looked around for the spare supplies she came for and true to her intuition, just as she tried to reach for the gauzes at the back of the shelf, she felt a presence press against her back and something sharp and cold pricking her neck.

“Where is he?”

Na bi wouldn’t have screamed, she recognised that voice but she felt a hand cover her mouth anyway. She tried to struggle free from it but the tip of the knife against her skin inched deeper.

“Where is he?” Wonho whispered harshly again.

She pried his hand from her mouth, whispering back loudly. “How am I supposed to say anything with your hand on my mouth?”

Na bi felt a sting and the blood trickle down her neck. She had encountered this man so many times but this was the first time he was hurting her. Frankly, it sort of annoyed her, making her snap in retaliation. “How would I know where Changkyun is?”

Wonho’s grip on her softened and she took the opportunity to set herself free and face him. He looked tensed.

“How do you know his name?”

Na bi held a piece of gauze against the burning cut on her throat. Fuck.

“.....he told me.”

“He told you?” Wonho looked at her in absolute disbelief but eventually shook it off like he had other more important things to deal with. He pointed his knife at her. “I don't care why he decided to disclose it to someone like you, but don’t you ever dare take his name. Not before me, not before anyone, do you understand?”

Na bi nodded slowly. She had forgotten the dangerous weight his name carried. Was that how comfortable she had gotten with all this?

“And I’m asking you for the last time. Where is I.M?”

Ignoring how silly the name 'I.M' sounded, Na bi sighed. “I swear, I have no idea; I was drunk remember?”

“He dropped you home.”

“He was wearing a suit.”

“What?”

“Are we not playing state-the-obvious?”

Wonho’s confused face turned into exasperation. “He didn’t return after that; you were the last one who saw him!”

Na bi scoffed. “What, you think I tied him up and put him in my basement?”

“Of course not. I already checked your house-“

“Wait, what-“

“I don’t think you are really understanding the gravity of the situation Ms. Baek.” Wonho moved closer to her, urgently. “He is a very important man and things can go very wrong without him around.”

Why was everyone around her suddenly going missing?

“I swear to god, I have no idea. Last night we….. I mean, I fell asleep and he left, I don’t know where he went after that or what might have happened-“

“Na bi!” Both her and Wonho jumped apart, turning at the sound of Seokmin knocking the door. “The cops are here.”

Wonho placed a finger on his mouth warning her, as though Na bi didn’t know she had to keep quiet. Fishing something out of his pocket, he handed it to her as he took a step back into the darkness of the room – her phone. Recalling what she had done with it last night, she wanted to ask Wonho if the person she shot was okay but when she looked up, he had already melted into the shadows he came from.

Adjusting her scrubs, still looking over her shoulder, she walked over and opened the door to see Seokmin waiting for her and next to him, in uniform, was her next problem for today who also happened to be a very, very familiar face.

“Na bi, this is Officer Kim Mingyu.”

Seokmin introduced her to a man who didn’t really need an introduction because if she hadn't left him without an explanation last night, she would have been introduced to him anyways.

He seemed to have recognised her too, his eyes widening, expression changing from confusion to surprise.

“Officer Kim, this is Dr. Baek, she was the one in charge today.”

“Dr. Baek Na bi.” Mingyu pieced together her name, shaking her hand with a slightly cocky smile dancing on his face. “Fate works in funny ways.”

As Seokmin frowned looking back and forth between the two of them, Na bi turned to him. “Min-ah, help me go check if everything is okay in the wards, please?” When he didn’t move, still suspiciously staring them down, she emphasised on the please once more, with a look of promise in her eyes to tell him the details later and he finally left, leaving them alone. When Na bi turned her attention back to Mingyu, he still hadn’t let her hand go and his eyes were on her lips, making her cheeks flush red.

“I’m so sorry about last night-” Na bi began when he extended his other hand towards her, making her reflexively take a step back. “Woah.”

He immediately looked apologetic, pointing at her neck. "You're bleeding."

"Oh, that's nothing." She pressed the gauze onto her wound again, pulling her hand out of his grip. "Again about last night, I'm sorry. It was rude of me, I should have said something before I left like that….”

“The way you ran out, I was worried if everything was okay with you.” And he genuinely looked concerned. Sweet.

“Everything was fine, I just had something personal to take care of.”

He nodded slowly pursing his lips, and two tiny dimples appeared on his cheeks, making Na bi smile.

“I’m glad I found you again.” He put his hands his pockets, his shoulders scrunching up. “Now I just need to meet you one more time to confirm my theory.”

“Your theory?”

Mingyu nodded. “I believe a first meeting happens by chance. The second one may be a coincidence, but a third time?” He looked around before whispering. “That’s fate.”

Na bi chuckled. “I don’t believe in fate officer.”

“Give it a chance doctor. Third time’s a charm.”

“And why do you think we will run into each other once again?”

“Because I would like to take you out for dinner tomorrow.”

Na bi crossed her arms, trying hard not to smile. “Setting up a third meeting? Well that’s cheating.”

“I don’t just leave things to fate Dr. Baek.” He leaned in so close, Na bi could smell that familiar scent of him, the same one he had on in the bar, the memory of his mouth on hers coming back. “I work for what I want.”

It would be a lie to say Na bi was not impressed. Usually, these kind of words didn't have much effect on her, she would have just laughed it off. But the first time she met him, she had judged him to be a lot more amateur and inexperienced and now clearly, he knew what he was doing and he was doing well. So, when he put his hand out looking pointedly at her phone, she gave it to him and watched as he gave himself a call and saved her contact on his phone with the emoticon of a butterfly.

She laughed. “My 8th grade boyfriend used to save my name like that.”

“I like butterflies.” He looked at her with captivated eyes. “I think they’re really beautiful.”

Their wings might be but what about the ugly creature they hide under all that colour?

Na bi took back her phone, saving his number with an emoji of her own – a dog.

Mingyu pouted, dimples popping up again and she laughed, pointing at him, “There you go! I knew you were the golden retriever kind- “

“Na bi!” She startled, turning towards the sound as Seokmin ran up to her, bending over and coughing to catch his breath before he finally found his voice. “They’re…they’re all gone.”

“What?” Na bi and Mingyu blurted together, shocked.

“The ones in the ward, ICU, the ones detained, all, every single one of them is missing.”

Na bi immediately ran towards the wards, both men following her. There were dozens of officers everywhere, talking to the staff, taking notes, walkie talkies going off but the beds – they were empty. All of them.

They checked everywhere, they checked everything but there were no traces of Changkyun’s men.

It was like they were never there.

Na bi opened the door of her house, kicking off her shoes, tired to the bone.

After hours of questioning by the cops, Na bi began to understand the meticulousness with which Changkyun’s men worked.

While the hospital had called the police immediately after the ambulances arrived, it turned out they received no such call – Changkyun’s men had somehow intercepted it. It was only hours later when Seokmin called again to check on the delay that the cops received the information, arriving within 20 minutes with a full task force but their culprits had already cleared the scene by then. They didn’t even leave any clues behind – all their belongings had disappeared with them; the security cam footage was wiped clean, any and all records made for medical reasons were shredded – they had even taken their medical waste away. No one stopped them through all this – no one dare to.

Na bi threw her bag on the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. But just as she hurriedly chugged it, there was an unexpected knock on her door, prompting her to glance at the clock – it was 11pm. Who would come by now?

Had Changkyun’s enemies finally found her?

Na bi felt a chill run down her spine. As though she bad timing was the highlight of her fate, just today of all days, none of Changkyun’s men were around. She was all alone, there really was no one to help.

When another knock followed, she immediately grabbed her phone and texted Seokmin, asking him to come over immediately, then scoured through the kitchen drawers and grabbed a knife. Heart thumping in her chest, she slowly made her way to the door, first looking through the peephole to see just how many people were threatening to break down her door but there was only one. Just one man in a spotless white shirt, standing with his head down and palms on the door and without even looking at his face, Na bi knew who it was.

Sighing in relief, she threw the knife onto the dining table and quickly opened the door, as he lazily lifted his head giving her a small, familiar smile.

“Changkyun?”

He seemed like he was struggling to stand straight. Was he drunk?

“You’ve been gone for hours. Do you always work this late…..”

As his eyes trailed down her face, his smile vanished, hand slowly reaching for her neck, his finger smearing with blood as he ran it across a painful spot – the wound from Wonho’s knife seemed to have opened up again.

“You’re bleeding.” He rubbed the blood between his fingers, looking at it. “What happened?”

Was he slurring?

"Wonho came to the hospital and-"

Before she could finish, his heavy eyes fluttered shut and he stumbled forward but Na bi quickly caught him, just as his knees gave away. She could feel something warm and sticky on his back making her look over his shoulder at her hand, a sight that nearly made her heart stop. Blood.

For the first time ever, her hands shook as they were drenched in blood, his blood and as though he finally gave up, Changkyun went limp in her arms.

Next chapter

#monsta x series #changkyun series #changkyun angst #changkyun smut #changkyun mafia #changkyun thriller #monsta x Im Changkyun #Im changkyun #Monsta X IM #changkyun #wonho #mingyu #seventeen mingyu #seventeen #mingyu series #seventeen series #monsta x smut #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios

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chiliadicorum · 4 months

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Feanor's "exaggeration", the first half

"For the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish but once only; and in that deed his heart shall rest. It may be that I can unlock my jewels, but never again shall I make their like"

Maybe one day I'll dive into the psychology behind this, but right now I only want to touch on a small epiphany I had during a reread. I've gone back and forth on this declaration of Feanor's for many years. For the longest time I agreed with the common opinion that Feanor was exaggerating/being dramatic, that of course he could remake the Silmarils and it certainly wouldn't frickin kill him. Or maybe it would? What this dialogue reveals of Feanor's character is ultimately up to personal interpretation and I have no doubt it will continue to be debated for many years, as it should be because there's a lot to unpack in these few sentences.

But was he dramatizing the whole issue? I don't think so. I'm still of the opinion that he was exaggerating, but not knowingly, and not in a sly attempt to refuse to do what the Valar were asking. This wasn't a cleverly-worded manipulation to get people off his back. He was genuine *in that moment* (can't stress that enough)

This isn't an apology post or whatever they're called today, an attempt to absolve Feanor of fill-in-the-blank. The ultimate question of if he could or couldn't have remade the Silmarils is irrelevant in this moment, in this scene, in these words, looking through Feanor's eyes. Because I understand why he said this.

And frankly, anyone who's a creator of anything can understand it too. And dare I say, to all creators, Feanor in this scene is at his most sympathetic, or should be (or one of the most - he does find out his father's been murdered right after).

I think anyone who has a passion for creating can understand Feanor here on a deeply personal level. I know I did. I'm a writer. I have a Melkor fic Weep and Be Burned (ao3) and if that story got deleted, disappeared from my files completely, was just gone, I would NEVER be able to rewrite that fic. Yeah, I know the thoughts that went behind it, the plot, and yes, I could technically rewrite it. But the most dedicated, try-my-hardest rewrite would be a poor, hollow shadow of what it is right now. That fic was a work of passion, written while in passion, fueled by passion alone. And any attempt to rewrite it won't ever even closely replicate what it is now. Anyone who's read that fic will understand why I'm saying this.

I believe that Feanor had the potential to remake the Silmarils. If anyone could, it's him, doer of the impossible. He knew how to do it, could give a step-by-step tutorial on youtube. But I understand why at the mere thought of remaking them from scratch he genuinely believed he wouldn't be able to. I get it.

#feanor #silmarils #silmarillion #meta #unpopular opinion? maybe. but i get it #chiliadramblings

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96percentdone · 1 year

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In Defense of Tearer

Character writing, not the uncountable crimes

AI:TSF Nirvana Initiative is a very divisive game, for many reasons, some of which I’ve discussed before even. With its twists and split storytelling, and a horrible no spoilers policy that leaves fans of the first game with no connective tissue that respects the time they spent with those characters in the first game, it was destined for controversy, no matter how many good ideas and interesting characters it contained. And make no mistake, Nirvana Initiative has many interesting, even consistently well executed ideas. There are some things in Nirvana Initiative that I think are better than they ever were in the first game, like the serial killer at the center of it all.

Apparently, Tearer is controversial. Some think he is lesser than Saito. Less presence. Weaker. Uninteresting. Irrelevant. They think his only purpose is to provide a motive for Amame, who is actually the interesting culprit. But I believe all of that is incorrect. It misunderstands what makes Saito compelling, what makes Amame compelling, and most importantly, for my purposes, why fucking Tearer fucking rules. Tearer is critical to the fundamental nature of not just AINI’s plot, but it’s themes; he is essential to the conversation about love, determinism, and trauma and without him this game is weak and flavorless, and all the other things you like about it would be worse. Under the cut.

Part Zero: S**TO

AITSF is about love. It’s in the title. Water is wet. But for the sake of drawing clearer parallels, let’s actually talk about Sejima Saito.

Saito cannot feel love or happiness from anything from murder, because of a brain disorder, or more accurately, he would have been able to if even one person loved him to begin with. I say this because Date exists within the same body, and he’s able to get by on medication. Because people cared about Date, and wanted him to be happy; they loved him. But Sejima Sou, the world’s worst man, does not care about Saito. His son killed animals, and he did nothing. His son killed his mistress, and he covered it up, but didn’t look into the root issue. He doesn’t care. On a literal level, Saito cannot feel love because of a brain disorder, but on a thematic level, he cannot feel it because no one ever offered it to him. He does not know what it is. (From this perspective, you could say that Saito is a victim of ableism and not only just. A problematic trope, although like it’s all definitely like still here)

And the sad thing is, Saito does not know what love is, he cannot understand it, yet he still wants it from his father! He’s on record saying this is why he killed Manaka because she stole him away. Sejima does not care about him, and he recognizes that, and it bothers him. He wants what he cannot have, so he kills instead. He has to rip that which his father loves away from him. That’s why killing her makes him happy! Are you seeing the bigger picture? The dopamine rush from killing is just the literal read; Saito derives pleasure from murder because he is ripping love away from others, a thing he wants but thinks he cannot have.

Saito switches into several different bodies that do not have the same brain disorder that his did, but this doesn’t make him understand love, because the problem isn’t actually the brain disorder. It’s that at this point, he has gone so long without ever being loved, without ever knowing what love is, with wanting it but never being allowed to have it, that he absolutely refuses to conceive of a version of himself where he could be happy and capable of it. He looks at Date, in his body, who is happy, and living a life full of love, with people who care about him, and its incomprehensible to him. That should not be possible. Date is using that body wrong because to be Saito is to be without love.

Saito has defined himself as loveless, as someone who could only ever be happy when he’s making everyone as miserable as he is. Sejima did not love him, and did not support him, but even once Saito became an adult with the resources and wealth that name possesses, he did not seek out happiness elsewhere, away from the people who failed him. When he gets second chances in different bodies, he does not seek out love, no matter how false it may be. Instead he uses whatever love someone might have for whoever used to live in that body as a tool to carry out his ends, because he is determined to stay as he is. He was not loved, so he will never be loved, and so no one else should ever be either.

This is how Saito is used in the narrative of the first game. In a story where love saves and redeems, about the connections we make with others no matter how fleeting, and the strength it gives us to pull through, the antagonist is someone who was denied it, and because he was denied it is now determined to destroy it for everyone else.

Now that we’ve laid the groundwork, by talking about Saito, let’s move to the main event.

Part One: Forsaken | Child

Carrying on the thematic torch, we get to AINI, and like with any sequel, the discussion about love has shifted. To simplify things, the discussion in the first game is “love good not loving bad.” Characters you’re meant to like are filled with love to give and are loved in return, characters who aren’t well...aren’t. It is good to love. I agree. But AINI takes this theme a step further: who/what do you love, and how? What does love mean to you?

This question shows up at multiple points. Komeji loves his family so dearly, but his pursuit of his dream he loves just as much keeps putting them in danger and costs him his wife and later his life. Shouma struggles to admit he loves his father, constantly fighting with him, until it is too late, and he’s gone, and there is nowhere for this love to go. At the cathedral Ryuki has to pick between Date and Tama: who does he love more? I could go on like this (we will get to Amame), but this all comes back to one source: Tearer. So, who does Tearer love, and how? What does love mean to him?

Tearer loves one person: his ‘mother’, Shigure Tokiko, the world’s worst woman. (I promise we’ll get to Amame when we fucking get there.) Like Saito, he is desperate for the approval and love of his parent, something he too does not get, but there are several fundamental differences. The first, and perhaps most obvious, is that while Sejima Sou is Saito’s literal father, and has not legally forfeit his parentage over him no matter how garbage and bereft of love he may be, Shigure Tokiko is not Tearer’s mother in any sense of the word. She did not give birth to him, she didn’t adopt him, she does not raise him with love or compassion—no. She and her partner/ex Horadori Chikara (the world’s other worst man) kidnapped him and keep him trapped in the fucking basement so they can harvest his fucking organs and body parts for their biological son they gave up but actually love, Furue Jin.

And as obvious as saying that might be, it’s actually pretty critical to begin here. Both of these environments are loveless. Sejima is implicitly neglectful, and I don’t like need to tell you what’s wrong with what Shigure and Horadori are doing, yet the results are fundamentally different. There are two reasons for this. The first is that Saito was always a Sejima, and his life began in a house without love, thus he never knew it in the first place, Tearer was once a little boy not unlike any other, happy, innocent, loved up until the day he was kidnapped. For a brief moment, he knew what love was, and that will always matter.

And this difference leads to the second, which is far more interesting to me. Saito decided that if he could not have love then no one could, that he would destroy every instance of it within his grasp with his bare hands out of spite purely because he could not have it and never knew it, and never once attempted to know it himself. But every single thing Tearer does is all in the name of love. He wants the world to laud him as a hero and savior, to recognize him as important. He does not care that he killed Komeji, or that he is going to kill billions of others, because from his point of view, he believes he is bringing them to true freedom. An act of service for humanity at large. This, as warped as it may be, is a version of love, and a request for reciprocation. He is obviously wrong to think like this, even if he himself cannot understand or comprehend it, but even if he somehow did, it’s secondary to his real motive, which again is for his ‘mother,’ who he loves more than anyone else in the world.

Everything he does, with the exception of trying to convince Amame of his totally based and epic gamer plan to wipe out all human life that also involved murdering her dad, is for her. That plan he came up with is based on her beliefs about the world that he dedicated himself to because she taught them to him, and he is devoted to her without question. Shigure may say that Naix is more scientific than a cult, and is thus better than whatever Horadori is doing, but Tearer is their #1 worshipper, and that is because he adores her. He wants to prove her beliefs correct, to brings everyone to Moksha, because yes everyone will love him and worship him as a hero obviously and his endless pain and torment will end and be retconned into having not happened, but mostly because it would make her happy to be right, and if he makes her happy, then surely she will love him in return, right?

Nonentity Incognito is a somnium about Tearer’s absolute desperation for Shigure to love him in the same way she loves Jin. He wants to be her son. He cries to be let out, somebody, “MOM HELP ME,” but she won’t, and no one else will. They take his ideas, his work, his organs, his skin—everything from him, while they leave him locked in a rusty cell in a basement with a door that cannot open from the inside, and yet he still cries from the bottom of his heart “I love you so much! Why won’t you love me? Why, mom, why?” But he knows exactly why she won’t. Because Shigure loves Jin, or at least she did at one point (she doesn’t anymore care much anymore given she’s all for Tearer’s plan that killed him). As much as he screams and cries and begs, she will never love him. She never has loved him. To her, he was just a child with the right DNA that could be used to save the kid that mattered to her. When asked if Tearer is her son, even when he is right there, she does not answer; the silence speaks for itself. Nothing he does will ever make her love him. He will never be her son, no matter how much he wants to be.

Some may wonder then, with this level of horrific abuse, why would he even want to? Especially since he hates Horadori and Jin for his torment, something that is no secret and is clearly illustrated within and outside his somnium. I mean he explicitly picks both of them as targets because he hates them that much. Horadori only tortures him, and Jin gets not only what Horadori takes but Shigure’s love, the one thing he wants, but why does he want it? Why does he want her love?

Part Two: Damned | Destiny

Shigure Tokiko has given Tearer exactly one thing. Not freedom, not remorse, not even a half-hearted apology, no she didn’t give him anything for his sake, but she did give him something. She taught him about her shitty cult ideology. Shigure believes the world is a simulation. Nothing is real, so there is no pain, and no sorrow, and no unhappiness if we just leave this false prison. She promises him that if he follows her, they can leave this fake world together, where true happiness, paradise, lies. . She does not tell him this because she feels sorry for him, it’s not for him, but because his obvious suffering is a confrontation of her guilt. He is in constant agony because they steal his literal body from him and keep him trapped in a dingy prison in the basement living off preserved food in a broken refrigerator, and if his torture is real, then she is culpable for it. It is her fault he suffers, so it cannot be real. This world where something this horrific happened, where she is enabling and partaking in something this cruel because she loved her son she gave up, Furue Jin—she cannot accept it. She promises him a world where he does not feel pain, and she does not feel guilt.

This obviously is just like shitty, and evil, which yeah, she runs a cult and kidnapped a child, of course she is shitty and evil, but he would not see it that way. To him, an orphan kidnapped overnight who routinely has had his organs taken from him by one of his abductors for another child who gets to be loved (or at least receives some approximation of it) instead, this manipulative bullshit looks like kindness. He’s so young. They took him when he was only six, and now this woman is promising him she can take him to a world where not only will he not be in pain anymore, but it will have never happened.

No one comes for him. He cannot escape. Even if he could somehow get the door open, they’ve taken enough of his lungs he has trouble breathing when he sleeps, so imagine every other physical challenge he could face in a body they routinely steal from. Of course, he clings onto her promises, her teachings; He has to believe her. What choice does he have? He just wants it not to hurt anymore! He is trapped in a cell, and she is telling him that they can leave it if they leave this world behind. He can be free. He doesn’t have to hurt. He will never hurt again. What she has to offer him is insincere, it is not helpful, and it is not even truly for his benefit (they even steal his work for Naix, insane, cant have shit in horaken), but who else is there to offer him anything? Shigure Tokiko does not and will never love him; she will never view him as her son. At most she sees him as a brilliant tool to further her agenda, a convenience as well as an organ donor, but he cannot leave. He is their prisoner, trapped, so her self-self-serving ‘kindness’ is the only thing he has.

They don’t let him go outside, cause obviously their unwilling organ donator can’t escape, and he’s only allowed to learn and do the things they think would be useful to them, (quantum mechanics, molecular biology, electrical engineering, Naix’ fucking teachings, etc), he has no friends or actual family, he’s lost his name, he’s lost half his face and body—what does he have that is his own? What can he have that is his own? What choices can he make that are truly his, when he has so little freedom? What else can he do?

This is where determinism comes into play. Because Nirvana Initiative is not just about love, it is about choices, and how those things often intersect and tie together: the things you do for those you love, the things you do to get it, how far you’re willing to go in its name. Tearer was willing to end the world in the name of Shigure Tokiko, because he loves her. He loves her because he has no choice but to love her, because in the situation they put him in he can make no choices at all.

When Horadori Chikara and Shigure Tokiko made that decision to abduct the child with the right DNA to save their son from his half body tumors, they sealed that child’s fate. Their love, however warped it may be, damned him into being Tearer.

Regrettably for literally everyone besides Shigure, this means he kills people, takes people hostage, blows up a building, tries to commit world genocide, dresses like a clown, and all in all just kind of sucks and posts cringe 24/7. My poor little meow meow lmao. He is the principal antagonist of the game, even if he turns out to be fucking dead for half of it. This is in part, of course, because this fucking unhinged maniac has no hobbies outside of Zero Escape and vaporwave and designed all of his plans to work with or without him being alive, but like Saito in the first game, Tearer is also representative of an idea. You may have already figured out what purpose he serves already, but if not, I think it’ll become much clearer once we talk about how he affects the story as the antagonist.

Talking about every single detail in AINI would take too long and waste a lot of time, especially since not everything that happens in the game is ties back to the HB case (hence some of the controversy), so our purposes we will focus on the characters most affected by Tearer: Ryuki Kuruto and Doi Amame. Ryuki first!

Part Three: Fractured | Mind

Now, to be completely fair, ya boi Ryuki was already going the fuck through it before the half body incident even started. Ryuki’s became a psyncer because of a childish sense of justice he cannot let go of because of the horrifying way he lost his twin brother, who was hit by a truck in pursuit of a criminal and half of his body was crushed beyond recognition. It was his brother with the heroic dreams, Ryuki is just carrying the torch. While the localization uses a reference to My Hero Academia, in the original Japanese, his catchphrase is an Anpanman reference, a superhero show for small children. He wants to do good, he wants to be a hero, to help people, but those naïve ideals can be easily twisted by his trauma and his grief, most notably into a profound hatred of criminals.

So, imagine you’re Ryuki, it’s the time of year your brother died, and now there’s a serial killer going around killing people by leaving half bodies: how do you think that’s going to go? And yeah! It goes like shit! He makes mistake after mistake after mistake, he’s constantly dissociating, memory lapses, he’s vibrating with anticipating waiting for Tama to give him the okay to kill some guys he thinks are tied to the incident, Ryuki shoots an unarmed civilian because he thinks they might be Tearer! He cannot separate his trauma from the case! And frankly, how could he be expected to?

I am not going to lie to you and pretend that Tearer designed the half body incident to trigger Ryuki’s personal issues deliberately. He didn’t. That guy doesn’t go outside lmao. But like Ryuki’s brother, Tearer too has been halved, and so he halves Horadori and Jin as punishment for what has happened to him. What is his catharsis is Ryuki’s trigger, and this inevitably leads Ryuki right into his grasp to be used, where the real shitshow begins.

Tearer has sabotaged Tama. He will kill her if Ryuki does not do what he wants, and what he wants is for Ryuki to kill Date and deal with any other minor nuisances in the meantime. And Ryuki shoots Bibi with a stun bullet, even if it worsens Bibi’s heart condition, because he loves Tama. He cannot bear Tama being destroyed, no matter how much Bibi screams at him, no matter how much she hates him.

He is under Tearer’s thrall up through to the cathedral, and he has one job. Shoot Date. Shoot Date, and Kizuna and Tama and everyone else in the cathedral gets to live! Seems easy, right? Even Date says he should shoot him. But despite this. Despite everything, despite all that is at stake, he can’t. Ryuki cannot shoot Date. It is the guilt of having shot Bibi, yes, but he loves Date. How could he ever shoot him? How can Tearer ask him to choose between the two people he loves more than anyone else in the world? How could he ever make this choice?

He can’t, so Tearer makes it for him, because Tearer has been making his decisions for him ever since he took Tama prisoner. He blows up the cathedral, and Mizuki loses her eye, and Kizuna is paralyzes, and Date is ‘killed,’ and Ryuki never moves on from this. He spends the next six years drinking into oblivion, his PTSD worsening, unable to forgive, unable to forget, unable to move forward. When ‘Jin’s other half’ drops he throws himself back into the case, still a wreck, still hallucinating, still having manic and dissociative episodes, to the point he doesn’t even seem to know what year it is, often interacting with others like it is 2020.

You might remember he caught TC-Perge, the bioweapon Tearer had Horadori Institute make, but the literal elements of a text are never just literal. When Ryuki dissociates or he hallucinates, it comes in the form of glitches to the matrix. Tearer believes in simulation theory, because of Shigure. She and Horadori kept him imprisoned, and she taught him the world itself is a fake they must escape from. For him, this virus is an escape attempt, but like how cutting people in half is cathartic for him but triggering for Ryuki, TC-PERGE is his prison.

Tearer is dead, but it is what remains of him haunts. It lingers, it possesses, and it does not let Ryuki forget or move forward. Ryuki is stuck in place, in February 2020 during the Half-Body Incident, because since it kept triggering him he ended up trapped, forced to do the bidding of the one that reminds him most of his trauma against those he loves most. He is trapped in the time Tearer stripped his agency from him, used his love against him, and that love is now his cage. It has transformed into guilt.

Who do you love, and how? What does love mean to you? Ryuki loved his brother, to the point that he choose to live the live he should have had, to uphold his ideals of justice. For Ryuki, love is grief is trauma. It is a list of reasons for him to hate himself. Tearer only adds to that list. He puts Ryuki in the same place he is, unable to move, clinging on to your own self destruction. For Tearer, it is the Nirvana Initiative, and for Ryuki, it’s the alcoholism, and the self-loathing, and the belief he has to solve and fix it all himself or die trying because it is the only way he can possibly atone. He takes a bullet for Date, even after he gets the pep talk from them and told they forgive him, and the only way he can atone is by working together to move forward. It seems only by taking it does he find his way out.

Ryuki gets cured. He will heal from his gunshot wound. Tama is free from Tearer’s clutches, and Date is fucking fine, and Ryuki will be okay. There was a way out of this hellish nightmare Tearer put him in, and it did not involve making the villains and himself pay forever indefinitely, it involved forgiveness. It involved accepting the love offered to you, because it should not be a prison, but freedom.

But the other person was not so lucky.

Part Four: Choose | Correctly

Okay to just take care of this, Tearer thinks he’s thinks he’s in love with Amame, but what’s actually happening is he hasn’t like seen a human woman who isn’t his ‘mom’ for like two decades, and his maturity levels are out of wack cause of the human experimentation prison cell thing, so his hormones are just going crazy. I have nothing further to say about this aspect. It’s just sad, and a little gross, and it’s not interesting. We’re moving on.

Determinism and causality already haunt Amame before Tearer kills her father. Doi Amame is a girl split in two. Every decision presented to her, every choice she makes is logged deep within her heart and kept perfectly preserved in bubbles, and sometimes she takes them out and rotates them, let’s the light distort their colors into something new. What if she stayed with her father during the divorce? What if she worked a different job? Less hours? Part of her is always in the past, ruminating on what could have been if only she had done something different, maybe it would have been better. In that sense, she and Ryuki have a lot in common, and it’s also why Ryuki should have been the protagonist full time, but this is not that essay.

We will briefly have to talk about Komeji, the king of bad decisions. If there were ever a reason for Amame to be constantly thinking about the consequences of her actions, it would be looking at her dad and going “Jesus Christ.” He loves family dearly, but he consistently makes short-sighted decisions that sound great in the moment, but get him and the people he loves further in hot water. This is why he thought it was a great idea to blackmail the serial killer with the body he found and stole, cause he was wasted, and hey it’ll get him money which he can pay the loan sharks with and then his kids will be safe right? WRONG. SO WRONG DUDE. Guy was a hot mess, and he pays for it with his life.

It because of that Amame and Tearer meet. Amame hides Furue Jin’s left half in the freezer in Brahman, and she shows up at Studio Dvaita just in time for Tearer to be finishing up arranging her father’s corpse, although she does not know it’s his at first. Their fates are now inexorably intertwined. “I met the person of my destiny.” Amame discovers her father in the body-bag.

While Tearer develops a bunch of fantasies about her over the course of six years, because what else is he going to fucking do I guess, Amame grieves and mourns. Her pile of capsuled choices only grows with every minute of every day, and she spends more time looking at them. Thinking about them. Wondering which choice was the correct one. Maybe she should have stayed with her father. Maybe she should have told the truth and worked less hours to come home early. Maybe she should have comforted him when Furue Jin’s body dropped on Face to Faith, because she knew he needed it. Could she have saved him then? Would he still be alive now? Yes, Komeji was a hot mess, but he was her dad! She loved him! And now he’s gone, forever.

Maybe she could have made peace with that, had her encounters with Tearer ended there. While it would never be fair, or right, knowledge that Komeji never made good choices, and that it was another bad choice that lead him to Tearer could be made peace with. With a lack of specifics about what Tearer was even trying to do before or after her father got involved with his plans, she could fill in the blanks herself, tell herself similar stories like the what ifs she conjures because there are no answers to her questions. But that is not what fate has in store for her.

Amame gets a phone call from Tearer. He wants to meet with her, because he is convinced, for reasons we will get to in a second, that she will understand him. And Amame, although she knows she hates him, knows she cannot forgive him for what he has done to her father, knows she is plagued by the decisions she has made that she can never undo, she does not call the police. She does not tell anyone. She accepts his offer, and she goes. She just wants to know what he has to say, right? She just wants answers. Only that. Then she’ll leave. Finally, an explanation for why her father was killed.

And she gets it! And it’s the worst explanation she’s ever heard in her entire life! Simulation? Moksha? Nirvana Initiative? What the fuck is he talking about? Her dad died for this? She asks him if he remembers what happened on February 13th, 2020, the day her dad was murdered. She is trying to gauge if he remembers what he did to her father, if he even cares at all. And all he has to say is “That was the fateful day I met you.” Her father? He doesn’t matter. Komeji died because he needed a body to put at Misetan since Jin’s other half was never returned, and Tearer considers this entire thing a performance and a game. It wasn’t personal, like Horadori, or Furue Jin. It meant next to nothing to him. Her father died for no reason. He just moves on! He laughs! He’s blathers on maniacally about his plans to destroy all life on earth in the name of liberation or whatever, right in front of a woman whose dad he killed that he doesn’t remember or consider important!

He thinks she thinks this is super based, and that he’s like the smartest guy ever, and that he’s going to save the day, and that it’s an honor she is getting the chance to work with him, that she is considered intelligent and special enough to know about their ideals. Why does he think this? Is he delusional? Has he lost his mind? Well, yes, obviously, that happened like ages ago when they started stealing his organs and trapped him in the basement, but there’s another layer. Shigure Tokiko does not love him, but she only ever validated him when he supported her cult ideology, and his other relationships do not exist. She is his only frame of reference. He wishes to connect with Amame because he wishes to connect with another human being and be understood, and Amame was there, but he only knows how to do that through this shitty cult he is thoroughly indoctrinated in to the point he kills people and plans genocide for it, and with all that in mind, the result is inevitable.

It was bold of him to turn his back to her. She was never going to understand him. Enda Amame knocks him out with a wrench, drags him to the slicer, and kills him in the same way he killed her father. Another decision she can never take back. But she was not alone. Shigure saw her kill him, and now she is under her thrall. She has to move not just his body, but hers, or else her secret will get out. So she helps Shigure with her plan, to keep her secret, and lives the next couple of days quiet and somber, lost in her what ifs and her grief. She cannot bear this weight much longer. Not just her loss, or the weight of the secret she now keeps, but the ever-mounting regrets that began years ago.

“I did what was best for me! I don’t care if people attack me for it, I have no regrets! I have no regrets!” Amame cries at the end of Nightmare Irreconcilable, a Somnium that plays through each of her regrets, and the things she could have done instead. She wants so desperately to believe this, because while she can imagine going to see Komeji instead of Iris, or picking him in the divorce, she can’t picture not killing Tearer, even though her regrets all lead her to that point. Even though killing him did not bring her father back, but just took her away from her brother, and Gen, and her other best friends.

When Tearer calls Amame “the person of his destiny,” he is correct, but not for the reason he thinks he is. Before him, Amame’s life is full of people who love her, and of people who love her in return. Yes, her father is a mess, and the divorce was hard, but she’s okay. She has support, and she’s kind and self-sacrificing and a little eccentric, but that just makes her lovable. The choices she makes matter but they are not a fixation of hers. The world is open. She is free.

But that day in Dvaita, the world starts to close up. She is still loved, and she still loves people, and she’s still gentle and eccentric, but she’s starting to close off. Her dad’s decisions lead to the slicer. What does that mean for her? Was the world always so small? He’s gone, and there are no answers, just a hole that will never heal, no matter how much people love her, or how much she loves in return. The pathways for her get narrower and narrower and narrower, leading her directly to that dingy cell that seals her fate. And just like the man she killed that was trapped down there, she too is treated as another disposable tool by Shigure Tokiko, and is currently trapped in a cell, not unlike where he used to be.

To talk about Tearer is to talk about Amame because to talk about Amame is to talk about Tearer. They are direct responses to one another. Tearer was damned into being so at age six. His ability to choose, to love, to decide were all taken from him when he was stolen from that orphanage. And this monstrous cruelty contaminates everything it touches. Tearer desperately tries to escape to a world where his trauma never happened because it is all that he is, and like him she fixates on imagined possibilities where things are better, because the pain of her loss is too much to bear.

The world was available to Amame, until it was infected by him, by what he had no choice but to become. He killed her father, and although the world was still available to her, she was still free, she could not see it. All she saw was the past she could not undo, the family she lost forever, and the man who was to blame. For that one moment, Amame threw out all the love the world still had to offer her because she hated him more, and immediately regretted it. It’s the cycle of cruelty, of abuse, of trauma.

Conclusion: Trauma | Symbolism

This is why Tearer fucking rules, more than anything else. He is the embodiment of trauma, the breathing symbol of thematic horror the cast is trying to overcome. That’s why half his body is literally fucking chitin, a visual representation of the wounds that do not heal. That’s why his personality is entirely formed by the horrific experiences he had at the hands of Horadori and Shigure, and why everything he does is motivated by that experience, down to his fucking name! He was literally trapped because when you’re traumatized it often feels like you cannot move from where you are. He clings to Shigure and her idealogy because she stands for nihilism. She promises all those that enter her grasp that this world is meaningless and the only real way to find happiness is by ending it all: a death wish. He never leaves the narrative, even after he’s killed, and killing him cannot defeat him, just perpetuates the cycle. Amame only comes out of that even more traumatized, more guilt-ridden and horrified, it adds to her trauma. Trauma is not something you kill. His plan to kill everyone is to make people destroy themselves from the inside out, by ruining their minds so they cannot interact with one another without inevitably causing pain.

The only way to stop him is through unity and attempting to mend bridges, by process the things that hurt you instead of bottling them up. Accept the love that people give you. Embrace the opportunities that the world still has to offer.

Bonus: Somezuki Uru

You must have one question left. How come in this entire essay, I never once called him by his real name? I even pretended for a second he lost it forever somehow. Well, that’s because…Tearer is an idea, isn’t he? He is entirely shaped by the horrors forced upon him. Like I just said, he is trauma. We don’t know anything about Somezuki Uru, other than he was orphan, a normal boy, and honestly based on knowledge of Sejima’s cursed dick and balls, his brilliance in technical achievement as Tearer is probably an indicator of something significant going on in his brain that just isn’t to the same degree as cancer or the oxytocin deficiency. My money is on autism (source: autistic). Everything else we get is shaped by the horrors, and I just talked about those at length. But if I still have you here…

It is 1996, and tucked into his bed at Aioen orphanage, Uru wonders what tomorrow may bring? Rain or sunshine? Outside the open window, the moon that hangs high in the half-clouded sky has no clear answers. The breeze smells wet. Maybe it’ll rain after all. Didn’t Mr. Chieda get that new game for the computer….? That might be fun to try. He yawns. The breeze smells dry again, but he’ll worry about it tomorrow. This great big world full of possibilities isn’t going anywhere.

I hope the world you live in right now is kind to you. Thank you for reading this.

#nirvana initiative #ai the somnium files #ai nirvana initiative #uru somezuki #somezuki uru #kuruto ryuki #ryuki kuruto #amame doi #doi amame #hope.txt #my meta #aini #ai series #I HAD A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT MY GUY #SO HERE WE ARE #as for that second to last paragraph #its up to you how you interpret it #be kind to one another #okay?

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