#oh and a good example of one thing stranger things got right despite its many flaws is this in the earlier seasons like look at Johnathan

[writeouswriter]

Not enough “weird” or unique looking people in media nowadays, I’m tired of generic same face stars, give me someone I can actually pick out of a police lineup, give me someone who actually has distinguishable or unique features, give me someone whose appearance will sear into the inside of my eyelids, give me a little freak

[dynyamight]

bkdk … 12 ? ༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ

12. “I think we need to talk."

The moment Bakugou opened the gym doors, and smelled rain in the air, he knew he had to book it back to the dorms.

Slamming his feet on the pavement floor, he forces himself to run out. His muscles ache all over, and his arms barely want to stay up, pumping at his side. But, he rather try and make his way to his room dry, than have a downpour soak him to his bones.

By the time he reaches to the safe, dry front steps of the dorm building, the rain finally begins. Lightly, the drops splatter slowly to the ground.

Catching his breath, Bakugou stops by the rails, holding onto one side as his muscles cramp. His thighs are burning, and his arms want to fall off entirely. But, he let's his mind focus on the pain.

He's had a rough fucking week, and for once, his mind was elsewhere.

“It’s starting to rain now, isn’t it.”

Bakugou jolts, quickly facing up to that familiar voice. That voice that haunts his dreams, ingrained deep into his mind. That voice that makes his heart race just a little quicker. That voice, from the one and only.

That forgetful nerd.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to spook you.’ Midoriya says quickly, offering an apologetic smile. He’s sitting on the front porch, holding onto a book close to his chest. “You probably thought you were the only one out here, right?”

“..You don’t have to apologize.” He breathes out. Despite the haywire of his nerves, exploding his insides, the words roll off his tongue easily. It's oddly the same phrase he's used each time they've met. "S'not like you personally screwed me over."

"Ah, my bad—"

"What did I just say."

“I—" Midoriya weakly chuckles, shaking his curls. "I guess I can't help it. I promise I won't forget.”

No matter how many times Bakugou hears that, it always sounds so genuine, so real. Rather than an empty promise. "I'll hold you to it, Deku." He mutters, regardless.

"What does that—" A light shines through Midoriya's gaze, and immediately he smiles. "Wait, you know what. I swear that's not the first time someone has said that to me. Deku."

Chills run down Bakugou’s spine. That's never happened. He's never slipped up. Fuck. “..Really?”

“Yeah, it sounds so familiar. But, I don’t remember exactly where I've heard it before.”

Both disappointment and relief flood his whole entire body. He doesn’t know what he would do if Midoriya would remember all his terrible attempts, though a part of him did yearn for recognition.

However, maybe it was for the best. Give them a fresh start, every time. Fucking hip hip hurray.

Hell, maybe this was the world's way of sending him all the karma that he has built up. It decided to pick the one person he deeply cares about, and make both of them suffer.

Bakugou looks back at the book Midoriya held, something in his mind reminding him about one of the first talks since the incident. “Is that Catch-22?” Bakugou asks, pointing it out.

It takes a moment for the question to visibly register through Midoriya's brain. But, when it does, Bakugou can tell by the way Midoriya’s eyes widen and the wide grin on his face that grows, “You've read it?”

“Nah, just heard about it. A lot.” He doesn’t need to explain himself further.

Leaving his seat off the bench, Midoriya rushes up to Bakugou’s face, eagerly leaning in. “I highly recommend it! It’s a literature masterpiece, the best of its genre!”

For a moment, Midoriya looks up to Bakugou’s gaze, eyes bright in interest. However, the next second, he looks away, with a feeble laugh as he scratches the side of his head nervously. “In my humble, personal opinion, of course..”

“What does it even mean?” Bakugou asks instead, holding tight to their conversation. He refuses to let it go for even a second. “Catch-22.”

“Oh. Uhh, the best way I can describe it,” Midoriya lifts his chin in thought. His gaze drifts up, as if he was wracking through his brain like it were a couple of shelves, “is that it's a dilemma from which someone cannot escape from, because of a set of contradictory rules.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Give an example. I’m too fucking tired to decipher whatever the fuck you just said.”

“Okay, okay!" Midoriya laughs, "It’s like job applications. How can you gain any experience for a job, unless you get a job that gives you experience?”

“Like, how in order to apply for a loan, you have to prove to the bank that you don’t need one?”

“Yes! Exactly that.”

“That shit has a name?”

“They’re hard to find, but even in everyday life, we can find ourselves in our own catch-22’s without realizing it! Isn’t that crazy? For all we know, life itself could be one!” Midoriya rambles, growing louder and louder, to the point Bakugou swears he can hear his voice echo.

Though, Bakugou doesn’t mind. This alone is possibly the most Midoriya has said to him, with all encounters combined.

Surprisingly, a blush forms over Midoriya’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to babble on like that.”

“How do you get someone to remember you,” Bakugou starts, before he can stop himself from asking, “when they keep forgetting who you are every time?”

Midoriya stares.

Quickly, Bakugou coughs, “Ain't that a catch-22?”

For a small moment, all he can hear is the rain, pattering down the pavement around them. But, then, Midoriya hums, tilting his head, lips pursed. “Yeah, it most definitely is. Though, I've never heard of that one, before.”

"Yeah well," Bakugou shoves his sweating hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “That’s the fucking dumpster fire I’m in.”

“With all respect, does your person have medical reasons why they keep forgetting?” Midoriya asks slowly, immediate concern filling his expression.

“Not that I know of." Bakugou admits, "But, I wouldn’t put it past them. Or, they might be plain stupid.”

“That's rude!" However, the accusation sounds fairly weak, when Midoriya's chuckling.

He feels the corners of his lips upturning. "What's 'rude' is the damn bastard not remembering anything, other than random, trivial shit." Bakugou huffs. "Which changes, daily."

"And, you say nothing works? Not even telling them?"

"Yeah. 'Cause they'll fucking forget the next day."

"Have they ever wrote about you?”

Bakugou does a double take. When did Midoriya ever— “Wrote about me?”

Nodding, Midoriya gestures behind him, to the backpack beside the bench. “Personally, I've been using lots of sticky notes, planners, and journals to jot down things I need to remember.”

“Again, my memory's a bit distorted, so in order to tell my future self what I need to know, I write it out for me to read, the next day. Maybe that’ll work for your person?”

Writing. So that the next Midoriya can read it and remember. “..Would it work, if I wrote it?"

Midoriya furrows his brows. "I think it would be better if the person wrote it out for themselves. You know, so that it helps to jog their memory."

Suppressing the immediate heart drop he feels in the pit of his stomach, Bakugou exhales a big sigh. "There's a lot of shit the fucker needs to remember. His purpose. His quirk. His dream. Lots of important shit."

"Why not start with you?" Midoriya smiles, reassuringly. "They're bound to have a diary entry all about you."

Immediately, Bakugou's irked. "I ain't writing material."

"I think you are. Good writing material." Midoriya confesses, never letting that dopey, wobbly smile drop, "I don't know your name, but everything about you is unforgettable, to say the least. I bet even someone like me will recognize you next time."

But, you don't. Bakugou thinks, feeling the tug at his heart tighten, choking him from the inside. You never do.

From the pocket of his gym shorts, Bakugou starts feeling his phone vibrate, before it rings. Despite that, Midoriya's jump causes him to be just as startled.

Rubbing a hand to his neck, Midoriya weakly chuckles, "Sad. We were just starting to get to know each other."

Bakugou doesn't respond.

'ALL MIGHT.' The caller ID states in bold letters.

"I gotta go." Bakugou states firmly, holding tightly around his phone. "I need to take this call."

Midoriya's smile fades, but quickly it's picked up. "Yeah, no worries. I've probably been keeping you outside for too long."

Bakugou curtly nods, "You have."

And yet, even when the ringing persists, loudly telling him to walk away, leave, he stays. Because, Midoriya just looks like he doesn't want him to go.

He doesn't want to go, either.

"I never got your name." Midoriya mentions quietly.

Why would I give it, if you won't even remember?

Yet, that freckled, doey eyed face Midoriya's got never brings out the rationale, spiteful side of him out. Because, no matter how many times he has to say it, he'll do it again, and again. In a heartbeat.

"Just call me Kacchan."

Visibly, Midoriya's taken aback. Though, with the phone call on its last few rings, he finally steps off to the side, giving Bakugou space to walk.

"I'll see you around then," Midoriya waves off to him, "Kacchan."

A personal hell. Bakugou's living his personal hell.

When he walks inside the dorm building, the emotions suddenly hit him hard. Every day, he has to keep putting up with this crap.

Midoriya greeting him, talking to him, and saying goodbye, like a damn fucking stranger.

It kills him, eating away at his brain, knowing Midoriya's unable to look at him, and see nothing, but a stranger staring back.

When looking at Midoriya meant the world to him.

With a swift thumb swipe, Bakugou slides the phone call open. He clears his throat. "What now old man."

"I think we need to talk." All Might's voice crackles. "Privately. The sooner, the better. It's about the quirk that's been affecting young Midoriya."

His entire body tenses, halting him still. "..What about it.."

All Might sighs, long and tired. "The authorities found some intel about the culprit behind the memory loss. And, well.."

"Well, what?" Bakugou snaps.

"Midoriya's in deeper trouble, than we thought."

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Blueprint

Part of the Stray Wolves Series

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (SKZ)

Genre: Vampire AU; Werewolf AU; Forbidden Love AU; Prequel

Warnings: Graphic Smut; Explicit Language; Blood Drinking

Word Count: 8K

Summary: Y/N is tired of her werewolf pack dictating her choices, especially when they force her into an arranged marriage with a younger friend. In retaliation, Y/N sneaks out one night in direct defiance of her alpha’s orders, and she meets a mysterious vampire who allows her the first tempting taste of freedom...and she might just fall in love with him in the process.

A/N: This was supposed to be for Felix’s birthday, but I’ve got something else that I could release for him, so here ya’ go!!

Blueprint: “a detailed outline or plan of action: a blueprint for success.”

My life had always been dictated by the choices of others instead of my own. For example, when I turned 16 and endured my first painful heat, our pack alpha declared that I was finally ready to mate. It was a scary thought for me to process, and I begged my father not to force me into an arranged marriage. 

However, he was stern in his handling of the situation, refusing to disobey his alpha, but more than willing to pair me with a much younger werewolf named Mark who wasn’t quite ready for the mating ceremony because he still hadn’t gone through his first rut. In hindsight, I knew that it was a logical compromise, but I was still upset because I didn’t want to mate with another wolf and have pups. Plus, Mark was one of my friends, and I was troubled by the thought of presenting myself to him.

It ignited a fierce passion deep inside of me, and I rebelled against my pack for the first time that night by escaping into the darkness of the forest when the moon was at its highest point. You see, our alpha had mandated a curfew for the pack omegas, but I defied his orders and considered the possibility of running beyond our defined borders and into the surrounding mountains. But as I paced alongside the river separating our territory from a rival pack, contemplating several life-changing choices, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t alone.

But it was when I first turned around to confront the stranger watching me from the trees that I experienced my first taste of regret for leaving the pack without informing another member. Because upon closer inspection, I realized that he was startling beautiful - peering at me with vibrant blue-colored eyes that were hidden beneath white, cascading hair. My wolf growled because I understood well enough that he was a vampire, and that made him a natural enemy of my people. Yet, the boy didn’t attack me like I feared; instead, he studied me carefully as if I was something particularly interesting.

“This is not your land, vampire,” I said, attempting to sound a lot more confident than I felt. 

He smirked at my feeble attempt to stand up to him. “I have no land.”

I shivered at his tone. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve been banished from my coven,” he continued. “They gave me rogue status when I left.”

“Still, that doesn’t give you the right to be here!”

“I should think that you don’t really belong out here either,” he continued. “This forest holds many dangers.”

“You don’t know me,” I snarled.

“It’s a strange place for an unmated omega,” he continued while looking at my chest. “And you’re ready to carry pups.”

I gasped at his audacity, and I quickly covered myself with my hands. “Mind your own business!”

The vampire chuckled. “Relax, I have no plans to hurt you.” He swaggered forward with an unrivaled arrogance, leaning in to inhale against the side of my neck. “You do smell like something that I would enjoy playing with.”

I took a step back to create some distance between us. “I’m patrolling the border.”

“Alone?” he questioned. “I know your alpha, and he’s quite strict when it comes to his pack’s females. Actually, I’m surprised that you’re not already mated.”

“Who says that I want a mate?” I returned, sending him a challenging stare. “I’m not some pliant bitch who plans to open her legs for anyone!”

“Clearly,” he said, running his tongue across sharp fangs. “But you’ll learn to obey your pack leader, just like the other mindless pups who fall in line with the status quo.”

“Well, I’m not like those other wolves,” I insisted. “I can think for myself!”

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up into his bangs. “Prove it to me.”

“What?” I asked, hesitating because I wasn’t sure how to handle his request.

“Show me that you won’t give in,” he said. “Do something that would demonstrate this defiance you have against your alpha.”

I growled because I despised the arrogance in his tone, reaching out for the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. It pleased me to see the vampire caught off-guard, and I quickly pressed my lips against his just to shock him even more. Still, I couldn’t help but grimace when the taste of him reminded me of copper, and I closed my eyes while shivering because of his cold skin. But I eventually pulled away after a moment, studying his expression with a smile. “See?” I said. “I’m not like the other wolves.”

The vampire took his time opening his own eyes, looking at me with a gaze that reminded me of the ocean. Then, he grabbed me by the shoulders before leaning down to kiss me again. However, this time it was my turn to be shocked, and I pulled away to gape at him. “That’s cute, little pup,” the vampire said. “Do you know what else would really make your alpha seethe?” I froze in place when his hand reached down to cup the heat between my legs. “Your alpha wants a good virgin wolf,” he continued. “Maybe you should be the one to decide who gets the honor of fucking this pussy for the first time.”

His words were crude, but they were nothing short of arousing, and I launched myself at the vampire and molded my lips to his, kissing him feverishly as my hips started to grind against the telling erection in his leather pants. But it was like an electric shock had amplified my senses, and despite the taboo nature of coupling myself with a vampire, I couldn’t deny that every part of me was begging for him. I didn’t even know his name, but he had managed to awaken a part of me that was determined to start making choices for myself.

Subsequently, I lost my virginity to that alluring vampire in the middle of the forest alcove, naked against the silencing watch of the moon as I took his cock and experienced my first taste of a pleasure that I had chosen for myself. Thereafter, I continued to meet him often, returning to that alcove and waiting for him to arrive with his ocean eyes and snowy-white hair. For the most part, we fucked in our little private shelter with the sound of the river in the background. However, there were also nights when we simply enjoyed one another’s company, talking about our vastly different worlds and the places where we had come from.

He told me that his name was Felix, and I whispered my name in return. Paradoxically, such a simple act opened a deep intimacy between us, and it made everything better because we had both decided to cherish our brief moments together away from the regular monotony of our lives. And he always listened to me with admirable patience, offering me advice with a wisdom that defied the age he appeared on the outside. 

“My alpha did promise me to someone,” I told him one night. “We’re supposed to mate after his first rut.”

“Someone younger?” he questioned, turning over onto his side. “That little mutt won’t know how to please a woman.”

“He’s actually my friend,” I said softly. “I don’t think either of us want to go through with it.”

“Then don’t,” he suggested as if we were talking about something as simple as the weather. 

“That’s not how things work in the pack,” I said.

“I thought you weren’t going to let them tell you what to do,” he said, looking at me with those irresistible eyes.

They filled me with courage, and I nodded my head determinedly. “I’ll run away if I have to.”

He laughed. “You don’t have to go that far, pup. The rogue life isn’t exactly glamorous.”

“You’ve survived,” I pointed out. “Maybe we could just go somewhere together.”

He grinned. “I guess we could.”

Meanwhile, I moved myself closer to him, cherishing our close connection. “Let’s start something on our own, like a combination of a pack and a coven.”

“Oh?” he asked, wordlessly moving himself on top of me. “Would you like that, pup?”

I nodded frantically. “We could lead it together.”

“It sounds so sweet coming from your lips,” he said, spreading my legs to make more room for himself. “Hmmm...I can smell your arousal.”

I blushed at the comment. “Maybe I missed you.”

“Is that right?” he questioned. “Let’s see how much you missed me, pup. Take off these clothes for me.”

I happily complied, eagerly tossing my shirt over my head before reaching down for the button on my jeans. Perhaps in another life, I might consider taking my time and putting on a show for him, but I was probably one of the clumsiest wolves in the pack, and it was better for me to remove them without incident. “Good?” I asked, shyly, whimpering when he pulled my panties down my legs.

“Let’s spread these some more,” he said, pushing my thighs apart and releasing a guttural moan. “I want to see your pretty cunt.” 

I threw my head back at his words, feeling exposed under the weight of his gaze, especially when he started tracing my swollen labia, parting the delicate folds and rumbling low inside his chest. “Please,” I whispered.

“You’re begging already, pup?” he asked, grabbing my knees and keeping them spread wide. “Look how wet you are. Did you get like this talking about that future mate of yours?”

I shook my head. “It’s always you, Felix.”

“Oh? Well, it’s a good thing that this pussy belongs to me, then.” he said, and I tried not to moan when I felt his hot breath contradict with the cold sensation of his hands. It sent tremors down my spine, and I watched as his tongue collected the arousal that had started to form courtesy of his irresistible presence. And I knew exactly what he was going to do, but it still felt indescribably good to feel him trace my slit, mouthing at my clit and sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. 

He started a steady rhythm, eyes watching me the entire time as his tongue explored my wet heat - sharp teeth bright under the moonlight. The sounds of his tongue lapping at my arousal were loud, and I fisted my hands at my sides as I started to grind against his face. My pleasure was steadily mounting, and it was comparable to nothing else in this world - exquisite luxury of which I had started to form an inescapable addiction. But Felix had a wicked tongue, and he sometimes spent most of our nights together eating me out while whispering dirty things that left me trembling for more. 

In the meantime, I could feel some of my slick leaking down my ass, and it felt like he was doing his best to taste as much as he could. “Feels good,” I slurred, and he chuckled at my comment.

“I bet it does,” he said, slipping two fingers into my tight heat and forcing me to arch my back at the rough penetration. “Relax.”

“I can’t,” I whined, and I was blissed out as he thrusted his fingers in and out of my soaking wet pussy while his tongue lapped at my clitoris. He curled them deep inside, brushing against my g-spot, and I moaned at the wildly intoxicating sensation. 

“Can you come for me with just my fingers?” he asked, adding a third as he continued to pump them inside of me, creating filthy squelching noises that disturbed the quiet of the forest. 

“Yes,” I panted because I always wanted to please him, and Felix’s deep groan was nothing short of sinful when I started pulsating around his fingers. It was like something inside of me had snapped, and his fingers were still curling against my overstimulated walls as my hips steadily rode the waves of my orgasm until it was verging on the edge of too much.

“Felix,” I cried, wrapping my fingers around his wrist while he pulled his fingers from my heat, licking them with a concentrated expression - like it was blood instead of my arousal. “So good, pup,” he praised, and I beamed at him while enjoying the post-orgasmic glow surrounding me. However, Felix was clearly not finished yet, and I whined when he circled his fingers around my swollen clitoris. “Can you take my cock?” he asked and I shakily agreed.

Felix stood long enough to remove his jeans, tugging at his erection as he surveyed my pliant form. He had such a nice dick because it wasn’t as mind-numbingly large like my older sisters always complained of their alphas, but it was big enough to leave me feeling satisfied. “It might be interesting,” he said. “To see you take a knot, but I’d be too jealous to let that happen.”

He took his place between my thighs, pulling me even closer as his fingers traced my gaping opening. “Could this pussy even handle a knot?”

“Let me have it,” I whimpered, rubbing myself shamelessly against his cock and shivering when it traced against my folds.

“I’ll give you everything, pup,” he promised, and then his cock was splitting my tight heat, stretching me open as I clawed at the grass on either side of my head. “Such a tight pussy,” he commented, and I could tell that he was holding himself back from hurting me.

Naturally, Vampires were born with uncanny speed, and that applied to more than just running through the forest. For example, Felix sometimes liked to show off just how fast he could move his hips while fucking me with his cock, but we always gradually worked up to that, allowing me to adjust around him first. Otherwise, I would be left an incoherent mess incapable of uttering a single syllable while he had his way with me.

Yet, at the same time, I could also feel his sharpened incisors edging along the prominent vein pulsing with blood. I titled my neck to the side to give him better access because I never minded it when he took some blood while we had sex. However, he simply chuckled at my submissive behavior, wrapping his fingers around my throat as he started to quicken the pace of his thrusts. Consequently, my little whines increased in volume, knowing that he could literally drill his cock inside if he really wanted. “Oh, fuck,” he cursed. “You look so good on my cock, love.”

I closed my eyes, fingers brushing the soft grass around me to provide a steady anchor. Especially when he reached for one of my legs, hoisting it around his waist for a better angle at my stretched opening. Felix pulled all the way out, looking down at where his tip teased the entrance of my gaping hole. But there was no oxygen left inside my lungs when he filled me up again with his impressive length, allowing a faster rhythm while he studied me with hooded eyes. The new position was making it very difficult to breathe, but I wanted to be so good for Felix, and I tried to focus on the remarkable way that his cock managed to hit so deep as it ruined the soft walls of my pussy. “Felix,” I whispered. “Drink from me.”

His eyes grew wider, but he nodded and leaned down, positioning my neck to his liking. I grimaced when his canines bit down for the first time, but it rapidly turned more enjoyable when he released the familiar endorphins that always made me feel like I was high. He started drinking in long and languid pulls, and I swore I could feel his cock grow even larger inside of me as he swallowed down my blood. 

He finally pulled away gasping, eyes flashing red as he grabbed my legs and started to literally force me down onto his cock, moving so fast that I could barely find the time to scream at the overwhelming pleasure. “Stay still for me, love,” he requested while his hand gripped my chin. “I want to see that pretty face when you cum on my cock.”

It didn’t take me long after that, contracting around his length as I came for the second time that night. Felix grunted when he felt me squeeze around his erection, and his cum was surprisingly warm when it started to leak out of the place where we were still connected. But my lungs were also on fire, chest falling up and down as I slowly came back from the precipice of my all-consuming orgasm. 

And Felix bent down and inhaled against my neck, tongue sweeping out to lap at the place where he had bitten me. “I want to see you again on Friday,” he said, voice gruff as he kissed me, and I could taste the remnants of my blood on his tongue.

By the time I arrived back at our camp, it was still too early for the sun to be visible over the horizon. Likewise, most of my pack mates were still asleep which made it easier to sneak back to the Omega cabin. Of course, I inwardly cursed when I remembered that one of my friends was often waiting for my arrival. But Hwang Hyunjin was the pack’s night guard, and he always kept watch at the main entrance of our camp.

“You were out late last night,” Hyunjin commented, and he looked like he was expecting me to break down and tell him the truth.

“I needed a walk,” I told him smartly. “But you already knew that.”

“Yeah, but you need to be careful, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “I’m covering your ass, but the others might notice that you smell like cum.”

I froze at his declaration, and it took everything that I had not to smell my clothes, wondering if Felix had touched something on me. However, I also knew that Hyunjin had one of the best noses in the pack, and he sometimes noticed different scents even after I spent hours washing myself in the river. But if he could smell something that risqué on me, then it meant that someone else might also detect the same scent. And I was suddenly very self-conscious, looking around at my other pack members as they passed by the two of us. “Is it bad?” I asked him.

Hyunjin nodded slowly. “When are you going to tell me who you’re meeting? Is it someone from another pack?”

“I can’t tell you,” I said. “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“Well, I hope that Mark doesn’t say anything on your mating night,” Hyunjin said. “I think he’ll probably notice that you aren’t a virgin anymore.”

There was a warning in his tone that I chose to ignore. Because I couldn’t think about those repercussions. Thankfully, Hyunjin was a very close friend, and he would never reveal my secrets to our alpha who might feel so inclined to dismiss me from the pack if he discovered my impurity. Of course, thinking about my mating night with Mark always managed to ruin my good mood, and I sighed as I leaned back against the wall of the Omega cabin. “I hate that my father chose him.”

Hyunjin shrugged. “He tried to put it off, but I think it’s nice that you and Mark are friends.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, glancing over Hyunjin’s shoulder to locate the younger as he laughed with some of our pack elders. 

“To be honest,” Hyunjin said. “He smells a lot like rut these days.”

I shivered. “How long?”

“Maybe another week or so,” Hyunjin informed me. “You know that our alpha will want to move forward with the ceremony as soon as Mark finishes his first rut.”

I shook my head at the situation. “It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Why?” Hyunjin asked. “You were fine with it when your father made the arrangement.”

“Feelings change,” I said. 

“Or, it’s because you like this mysterious wolf that you’re meeting in the middle of the night,” Hyunjin said. “Maybe next time I should stop you.”

“Please don’t do that,” I said. “I want to enjoy my time with him while I can.”

“Well, I hope you're being serious,” Hyunjin said. “Once you’re officially mated to Mark, you can’t sneak out of camp anymore.”

“I got it,” I snapped at him, even if I knew that it wasn’t his fault. After all, he was only telling me the truth that I needed to hear, but it still didn't make it any easier to accept.

“Well,” Hyunjin huffed. “Since you’re in such a jovial mood, I’ll tell you about the guests that we’re expecting today.”

“Guests? Inside the camp?”

“Vampires,” Hyunjin said with a grin. “The Coven from the mountains.”

“I thought our alpha hated them.”

“It was Chan’s idea to meet,” Hyunjin said, referring to our alpha’s son and the next alpha-in-command. “He wants to establish some diplomatic ties with their young prince.”

“Really? That’s unexpected.”

“I think so too,” Hyunjin said. “And the idea of having so many bloodsuckers in the camp sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Both sides are probably uncomfortable,” I said, defending the vampires when my younger self would’ve never hesitated to curse their existence.

But feelings change.

“When did you get so wise, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked with a playful smile. “I’d say it’s because you make smart decisions, but you wouldn’t be sneaking out of the camp every other night.”

“Ha-Ha,” I replied, but a better rebuttal would have to wait because I noticed that Adam, one of Chan’s youngest friends, was walking in our direction. “Don’t you two have other responsibilities besides gossiping?” Adam grumbled.

“I haven’t received my assignment yet,” I said. 

“Jisung’s leading a border patrol this afternoon,” Adam informed me with a sarcastic huff. “Knock yourself out.”

“Gee, thanks,” I retorted with a roll of my eyes. Adam had always acted dismissive towards me, ever since he asked for my father’s permission to mate with me and I sternly turned him down. It didn’t help that he confronted me later on about it, informing me bluntly that I was missing out because he had a gigantic knot and would fill me up so well with his pups.

And Hyunjin smirked at the tension between us. “I’ll join that patrol,” he said, tossing an arm around my shoulders before leading me away. “You’d think that Adam would move on already,” he said. “I guess you bruised his ego when you chose an inexperienced pup over him.”

“I didn’t choose anyone,” I grumbled. 

Except for Felix.

But neither Adam nor Hyunjin needed to know about him. In fact, I had every intention of keeping my first lover a complete secret, and I planned to carry it with me for the rest of my life.

Later on, I found Jisung waiting at the main camp entrance, attempting to count the gathered heads of his pack mates. Despite his position, Jisung was actually rather inept when it came to leading patrols, and usually someone else had to take over for him. However, it was still endearing to see him try so hard for the rest of us, so I never complained. Plus, Jisung was lenient when everyone started to complain that the western border line was too long to navigate, which meant that we often ignored the swampland and the sticky mud that coated my fur.

“Let’s go,” Jisung said, taking command as he shifted into his wolf form, waiting for the rest of us to do the same thing before we took off for the woods. I nipped playfully at Hyunjin’s shoulder while we remained at the back of the patrol, enjoying the feeling of the sunlight warming my pelt. There was always an undeniable sense of belonging whenever I found myself on four legs instead of two - moving through the thick underbrush of the forest with eyes wide open. 

Eventually, our patrol tapered off to a brisk walk, and Hyunjin leaned in closer, using the pack’s established mind-link to speak to me. “You seriously aren't gonna spill about your mystery man?”

I turned to glare at him as best I could while functioning as a wolf. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m the one who protects you,” Hyunjin returned, baring his teeth in an intimidating manner. “I thought we were friends.”

“Trust me,” I said, lowering my head somewhat submissively to appease him. “You don’t want to know.”

Hyunjin considered me for a moment, and the brown eyes of his wolf matched the same color of the man who shared the same consciousness. However, before he could say anything else, Jisung approached us both with a sharp growl. “Stop messing around,” he said. “You should be checking the caves.”

Hyunjin nudged me with his head, encouraging me to start in that direction. “Don’t think that this conversation is over,” he said, rumbling low in his chest. “We’ve never hidden secrets from each other, Y/N. It makes me think that you’re hiding something bad.”

I bristled at his claim, following him on unsteady paws as we navigated to the caverns overlooking the ocean. They marked the edge of our western border, and usually posed no threat to surrounding packs. In fact, most wolves disregarded the uncomfortable caverns, which made our job easier after a thorough inspection with no sign or smell of foreign intrusion.

It was also starting to grow late in the afternoon, and we had ventured far from our campsite. Jisung released a summoning howl to bring our patrol back together, and he ensured that everyone had detailed their report before announcing our abrupt return. “Don’t forget that we’re expecting visitors tonight,” Jisung said. “It’s a peaceful meeting, so let’s not make trouble.”

“I don’t get why we’re trying to play nice with the vampires,” Hyunjin said with a resentful tone, and I knew that I had made the right decision by keeping my encounters with Felix a secret from him.

Of course, upon our return to the camp, I could tell that the vampire representatives had already arrived because there was a noticeable amount of wolves patrolling the entrance with evident tension reflecting in their gazes. Jisung bowed politely in their direction as we re-entered the camp, and I quickly discovered that my pack mates were lingering outside of Chan’s cabin where he always conducted his diplomatic affairs.

Most of us had already shifted back, and as if on cue, the door opened and Chan stepped outside with a strikingly familiar face that had me pausing in my steps. “Hey!” Hyunjin protested when he ran into my back. “Don’t just stop like that.”

But I made no attempt to move from my position, and his words had barely registered over the panic seeping into every inch of my body. Because the vampire standing next to Chan was none other than Felix - the very same man who frequently met me in our private alcove at the river. However, it was surreal to see him here in camp as my worlds literally collided together, but it wasn’t nearly as startling as the realization that the vampire who I had trusted was certainly no rogue. “That’s Prince Felix,” Jisung informed me.

“Prince?” I repeated, feeling a cold dread holding me hostage.

Felix's eyes met mine at the same time when I realized that the mysterious stranger who I met at late hours of the night was the vampire prince of the coven that my pack loathed. Felix noticed me immediately, but his composure never faltered with the exception of one brow raising suggestively. He wasn’t listening to Chan, looking at me with the same eyes that I often saw from the space between my thighs.

I shook my head when I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I quietly dismissed myself from my patrol who were all quietly observing the vampire prince. “Nice going, Y/N,” I muttered to myself as I retreated into the Omega cabin. “Shit, this is bad.”

On the one hand, I felt anxious about the knowledge that the vampire I had been meeting in secrecy was running around my camp. But, on the other hand, I also felt sick to my stomach because Felix had lied to me about his rogue status. It was even worse since he was the prince of the vampire coven that my pack alpha despised - the same one that Chan was trying to improve our relations. Everything could be easily undone if the pack knew that I was literally screwing around with Felix. Not only would it ruin our attempts to communicate peacefully, but my alpha would order my banishment from the pack if he discovered that I broke my chastity vow and gave myself to someone other than my predetermined mate.

“Y/N?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. “What are you doing?” I gasped. “This is the Omega cabin.”

“I was worried,” Hyunjin said. “You looked like you were afraid of something.”

I found it difficult to meet his gaze, but I still forced myself to look in his direction. Because it was time to tell him the truth and alleviate the burden that continued to weigh heavily on my subconscious. “The vampire prince,” I whispered, watching Hyunjin lean in closer to hear me speak. “I’ve been seeing him.”

“What?

I sighed at his evident confusion. “My mystery man is the vampire prince!”

My tone was sharp, but I was incredibly agitated, especially as I anxiously awaited Hyunjin’s reaction. I knew that he would be surprised by the revelation, and I could sense the combination of his shock and annoyance reflected in his sharp inhale - eyes glowing with pure anger. “You can’t be serious, Y/N.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms securely around my middle. “I didn’t know who he was,” I said. “I mean, I knew that he was a vampire, but he told me that he was a rogue.”

“Oh, shit, this is bad,” Hyunjin said, and he immediately started pacing across the ground. “I can’t believe that you’ve been fucking a vampire! And Prince Felix? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Your support is greatly appreciated,” I snapped at him. “Look, when I met him for the first time, I had just been told that my father hitched me to one of my friends. I was angry, okay? I needed to clear my head, and I met him at the river and he just...he made me feel like I could be free while I was with him. Not tied down to a responsibility that I never wanted!”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You talk about Mark like it’s so horrible that you’d spend the rest of your life as partners.”

“But it wasn’t my choice!” I shouted, no longer concerned with whoever might overhear our conversation. “I didn’t ask for a mate, and you know that I never wanted one.”

“Fine, you’re fucking selfish, but that doesn’t explain why you’re still meeting with this...vampire! If you don’t want to be tied down or whatever, then why is he an exception?”

“Because he made me change my mind,” I said. “He showed me something that I was never allowed to have in the pack. Felix made me want him, and he taught me what life could be like when I made decisions for myself.”

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” Hyunjin growled, turning his back to me with an exaggerated sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re my best friend, Hyunjin,” I reminded him fiercely. “My entire life is hanging by a thread, and I need you to help me figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders rose and fell as he literally shook with his frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. I feel betrayed, and I need some time alone.”

“Hyunjin...” I tried again, reaching out for his shoulder, but he wordlessly shook me off before storming away across the camp.

Later that evening, one of my roommates approached me about a special bonfire that our pack was organizing in celebration of the vampires. I snorted at the idea because I knew that there was a risk of seeing Felix involved, but a frustrating part of myself was also desperate to see him again. Even after the revelation of his true identity. After all, I knew that it was important for us to talk about everything, especially with the potential for close relations between my pack and his coven.

Thus, I joined some of my roommates as we left the safety of the Omega cabin for the impressive bonfire at the center of our camp. It was crowded with wolves and vampires, and there was a neutral atmosphere that certainly demonstrated the potential for peace. Which made me realize that it was essential that I talk to Felix, and I continued searching the bonfire for any sign of him. I walked around the edge of the gathered assembly, and I was so intensely focused that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a cold hand reached for mine. I turned around to confront the source, but his free hand quickly closed over my mouth. “Follow me,” Felix said in the same deep voice that always managed to leave me feeling flushed from head to toe.

I whined in protest, but he gave me no other option when he practically drug me into the trees. “You’re an asshole,” I told him as a greeting. I pulled myself away from him, crossing my arms impatiently as I narrowed my eyes. “Do you think you even have a right to speak to me? After lying about who you are!”

“I’m sorry,” Felix said, but I scoffed at the feeble apology. “I’m serious, Y/N, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Of course not,” I snarled. “You wanted to keep me in the dark! But how long did you plan to string me along, huh? Until I stopped showing up?”

“Y/N-”

“You told me you were a rogue,” I interrupted, slapping away his hand when he attempted to touch me. “You disregarded my feelings, and you played me for a fool! I guess you also lied when you said that you cared about me!”

“Don’t say that!” Felix hissed, and I startled at the strength of his conviction. “I know why you’re upset, and I deserve every bit of your anger. But I hope you don’t actually believe that I was just using you!.”

“What else am I supposed to believe?” I asked. “You had every opportunity to come clean!”

“If I told you the truth, then you would’ve never agreed to keep meeting me,” Felix shouted, and I tensed as I searched our surroundings. “Y/N, if you knew that I was a vampire prince, then I might've never had the chance to speak to you again, and I couldn’t stand the thought of that!”

“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “You’ll never see me again after tonight.”

“Y/N! I hope you're not being serious,” Felix said, and there was a slight hint of desperation to his tone. “I was wrong, okay? But I never meant for you to find out like this!”

“I’m promised to someone in my pack,” I said, and my words sounded empty even to me. “There’s no reason to keep going.”

“You told me that you would never agree to the ceremony,” Felix said. “And I plan to make it up to you. Somehow, I’m going to earn your forgiveness.”

“Good luck with that,” I snorted, and I left him standing in the shelter of the trees before I rejoined my pack mates.

It had been several days since I confronted Felix, and I restrained myself from returning to the little alcove in the forest where we usually met for our scandalous rendezvous. I mean, life was supposed to move on, and time could heal all wounds, but maybe all of those old sayings were just bullshit! Because I missed Felix despite our last argument, and I hadn’t seen Hyunjin since he left me standing next to the Omega cabin.

I tried to confront him one morning, but he barely offered me a response before he was talking about some sort of assignment that he had to take care of before the end of the day. Of course, I knew that it was just an excuse to ignore me, but it still stung to face his rejection. I was beyond stressed, and perhaps my breakdown was inevitable when one of our pack members informed me that Mark had finally entered his first rut. “Congratulations, Y/N,” they told me, but I only felt like someone had stolen every ounce of my happiness.

I couldn’t control my actions after the announcement, and my wolf howled from somewhere deep inside of me, and I started running on four legs once I had escaped the camp borders. Consequently, I ran through the trees, dodging the overhanging branches and skillfully avoiding collisions with the surrounding foliage. Eventually, my wolf stopped at the entrance to the familiar alcove, hesitating when I realized that someone else was already sitting among the vines.

“Y/N,” his familiar voice said, beckoning me closer despite my appearance.

My wolf whined, and I quietly shifted to stand on two legs once again. “You’re here,” I said, jerking my head to the side so that he couldn’t see my tears.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered to me. “I should’ve never lied to you, but I was afraid that I would lose the beautiful she-wolf who I met that night in the forest.”

“We can’t keep doing this anymore, Felix,” I said, trying to ignore the way that he was looking at me. “I feel like I’m betraying my pack.”

“By doing something that you want?” Felix asked, daring a step closer. “They should value your happiness, Y/N. If you hate the idea of mating with someone else, then they shouldn’t force you. Who’s really betraying who in this situation?”

I closed my eyes to hold back fresh tears. “My pack hates your coven.”

“My father hates your alpha,” Felix said, crowding me against one of the trees. “They have a silly blood feud that has nothing to do with the rest of us.”

“What can you do?” I asked him. “I can’t keep living like this.”

“Then I’ll make it easier on you, Y/N,” Felix said with a fierce determination.

“Felix, what are you-”

“Let me handle it,” he interrupted, quietly pulling me in for a soft kiss that I had desperately missed. “I know a way to fix everything, and you can stay with your pack.”

“How?” I asked him, gripping tight to his shirt sleeves.

“I’ve been planning this for a while,” Felix said with a playful wink. “I know it’s too much to ask, but can you trust me this one time?”

I rested my head against his solid chest, sighing at the sensation of his cold skin competing with my enhanced body heat. There were a million reasons to walk away from Felix, especially since I was feeling so confused. My entire life was something of a train wreck, and everything was changing too fast around me in such a short amount of time. However, in spite of everything, I trusted Felix with my entire heart and soul.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I allowed him to brush another reassuring kiss across my lips.

Felix told me to wait for him, but it was nearing the end of the week when my pack received an unexpected visit from the notorious Vampire King and his young son. Since our pack alpha was gone, Chan stood in his place, welcoming the vampire royals with a forced smile. “Greetings,” Chan said, glaring at a group of wolves who were whispering together in low tones.

“During our last meeting, you mentioned something quite interesting,” the Vampire King said. “I believe you called it the potential for a union between our people.”

“Yes,” Chan agreed. “I’m still searching for ideas-”

“Well, I have a suggestion,” The Vampire King interrupted. “If you’re interested in listening...”

“Of course,” Chan said, and I could tell that his tone was strained.

“In a show of allegiance,” the Vampire King growled. “My son has agreed to marry one of your...dogs.”

“Father,” Felix said, giving the elder a meaningful look.

The King sighed. “He has chosen a member of your pack.” I swallowed hard when his gaze landed on me. “Y/N.”

I froze at the utterance of my name, feeling the attention of everyone in the surrounding crowd aimed in my direction. “Y/N!” Chan repeated. “She’s promised to someone else!”

“My son has made his choice,” the Vampire King declared. “This will be the union of our people.”

The declaration was met with hostile glares and quiet murmurings throughout ,y pack members. Thankfully, Felix could detect their unease, and he quickly sought to alleviate their concerns. “While we’re married, Y/N can return to the pack as much as she wants,” Felix said, sending a soft smile in my direction. “Our marriage can act as another show of respect between our people.”

“But why is she your choice?” Chan asked, taking another step in Felix’s direction. “We have many unmated females!”

“I like her the best,” Felix said, and perhaps it might seem outrageous to these wolves and vampires who viewed us as complete strangers, but it filled my heart with an unmeasurable glee. “We spent a lot of time together during our last visit to your camp,” Felix continued. “Y/N was always very welcoming.”

“This is also nonnegotiable,” the Vampire King said, giving Chan a meaningful look.

Chan hesitated in return, turning around to look at me with sadness in his gaze. “I’ll talk to Y/N first.”

I nodded slowly, aware that I couldn’t just agree since it wasn’t a reaction that the others would anticipate. “Okay,” I said, and I followed Chan to the cabin that he shared with his roommates until he officially took over as our pack alpha. 

It was quiet between us at first, and I could tell that Chan was searching for the right words. “Y/N,” Chan finally said, closing the door behind us. “You can sit down.”

I obeyed him at once, finding a chair near the fireplace and resting comfortably. “This isn’t something that I hate, you know,” I told him as a way to resolve the unusual tension. “I want to do this for our people.”

I took a deep breath as I allowed the unspoken ‘and for myself’ to remain a secret. Meanwhile, Chan shook his head as if trying to wrap his mind around the fact that I wasn’t protesting this unexpected decision. “You can be honest,” he said. “I want you to feel like you can trust me, especially when I take over the pack one day.”

“You’ll make a good leader,” I assured him. “But I’m not lying to you, Chan. This is something that I’ve already accepted.”

“What about Mark?” Chan asked. “Is that not something you want?”

I lowered my gaze to the floor. “I know what you must be thinking to yourself, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m doing this because I feel pressured. It’s quite the opposite actually.”

“But do you really like him?” Chan asked. “I mean, from the way he spoke, it sounded like the two of you had known each other for a lot longer than a few days.”

I sighed at the accurate statement, and I forced myself to meet his gaze from across the room. “What if I told you that it wasn’t? Would you tell our alpha?”

Chan paused in the middle of his pacing, searching my eyes as I returned the gesture, and he eventually allowed himself to sit down on the edge of his bed. “I won’t do that to you, Y/N,” Chan finally spoke. “I’m not an expert on love or feelings by any means, but I can tell that you like him, and that’s good enough for me.”

I felt my shoulders drop at his acceptance like the burden of his response was finally alleviated. “Thank you, Chan,” I said. “I hope that you can also see this as an opportunity for the future between us and the Vampires.”

“He seems like a good leader,” Chan acknowledged. “For that reason, we’ll commence with the ceremony.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” I whispered, and Chan managed a smile in my direction that told me he understood more than I realized.

On the day of my mating ceremony, I decided to walk along the shoreline of the river where I had spent so much time meeting Felix in secret. It was a beautiful day, and I felt like a real princess in my flowing white gown decorated with delicate lace and flower patterns. Although I had never once imagined myself in this place, I also couldn’t deny that everything felt like I was walking through some kind of dream with a happy ending waiting for me on the other side.

It was easy to get lost in the natural splendor surrounding me, but I still noticed the sound of the underbrush rustling from behind. I quietly turned around, smiling when I noticed Hyunjin standing there looking at me. “Hey,” I told him, holding out my hand for him.

I was relieved when Hyunjin eliminated the distance between us, taking my hand while the two of us looked out across the water. “I can’t stay mad at you, Y/N.”

I grinned at his words. “Does that mean I shouldn’t bother apologizing.”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far...”

I finally laughed, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry about everything, Hyunjin. I should’ve told you, but every night with Felix felt like a dream that I had to keep for myself. It’s like, if I told anyone else, then I would have to wake-up and marry Mark and pretend like I wouldn’t be miserable.”

Hyunjin nodded, processing my words with a sigh. “There’s no use staying mad over something that ended up like this. Your friendship means more than some secret affair.”

“I’m marrying the vampire prince,” I said, and it was still difficult to hear those words spoken aloud. “It’s strange how things work out sometimes.”

“Well, everyone keeps saying that this will resolve centuries of tensions with the vampires,” Hyunjin said. “I think that’s a little bold, but this isn’t a bad start. Especially if it makes you happy.”

“You’re right.” I nodded. “He does make me happy. He taught me a lot about myself, and it finally feels like I have control over my own destiny.”

“It’s almost cliche,” Hyunjin said. “How you got your happy ever after.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’ll be there too, right?”

Hyunjin chuckled, tugging me closer. “Yeah. I’ll be there for you.”

I was elated to know that we had finally reconciled, but there was still one more thing that I needed to ask him...”Do you like him?”

Hyunjin was quiet for a while, but he didn’t keep me waiting for long. “I think anyone who can make you smile like that is okay in my books.”

“Well then,” I giggled, holding tight to his hand when we started walking back to the camp. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at my theatrics, but his smile was fond as we made our way back to our camp to rejoin the gathered congregation of our pack mates and the visiting vampires. Despite the jovial occasion, there was still a hint of hostility in the air that I knew wouldn’t simply go away because of this one act of unity. Instead, it would take patience and time to resolve the conflict between our people, but I could only hope for the best.

Especially when my eyes met Felix’s as he waited for me. As usual, he was undeniably handsome - extravagant in every sense of the word. Plus, he was all mine for the rest of our lives, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my time than in the company of the person who I loved most in this confusing world.

[imaginariaextraordinaire]

Episode 8 is one hella packed episode and it is an absolute joy to unpack it, beginning with this:

Clever, clever idea to have Ji-Woo repeat the line that Mi-Joo just said to indicate Ji-Woo is taking charge of things as far as Assemblyman Ki is concerned. It's also a good reminder of how tone and intent can change the meaning of a sentence even if the words are exactly the same (which is why we need good translators).

Seeing Mi-Joo stride across the screen with Seon-Gyeom behind her, it struck me that we've seen a variation of this many times before, beginning with the credit titles. While Seon-Gyeom is the sprinter, the one we see constantly trying to up the pace and charge ahead is Mi-Joo. She's always intent on moving ahead faster — perhaps to outrun the past that she finally makes peace with during the marathon? — while Seon-Gyeom moves at a slower pace, disentangling himself from the constraints of his troubled past and troubling father. The only one time we see him race ahead (in episode 2), we also see him come back and slow down.

What I particularly love about Park Shi-Hyun's writing is that in addition to all the layers and complexity she's written into the scenes and characters, she's also written a very, very funny show.

Both Shin Se-Kyung and Kang Tae-Oh do such a fantastic job with both the physical humour (without being over-the-top) and the timing that's needed to play up the wit in the dialogues. Not that Siwan and Soo-Young do a bad job — the scene in which Dan-Ah proposes to Seon-Gyeom is hilarious. My favourite is still May, who is very funny throughout this episode (the shot in which we learn she sleeps with her eyes open! GOLD).

The transitions in this episode are so well written. The insights from one scene ricochet off the next. For example, Dan-Ah in the scene at the bar — where she tells the bartender she can't risk keeping the book in her own study because she can't risk people guessing she has anxieties — gives us a look at the problems of the privileged. This is followed by a scene in which Yeong-Hwa and Mi-Joo discuss student debts, which is a relatable middle-class problem. This in turn is followed by Tae-Woong saying that he takes selfies because he's addicted to the validation he gets from the likes each of those photos gets him — a Gen Z problem. And so it is that we get a spectrum of problems that people face and hide behind performative façades.

The likes that Tae-Woong talks about pop up with manic frenzy at the end of the heartbreaking scene with Dan-Ah in the parking lot, presenting the viewer with a terrible contrast — driving away from him is the love and acceptance that he yearns for from a sister who (he hopes) knows him. All he has to hold on to is the superficial attention of the love professed by a fandom that doesn't really know him at all. Soo-Young's performance is fantastic in this scene, especially when she asks in a voice tinged with desperation why Tae-Woong keeps coming back to her despite her treating him so badly. For the first time, you realise how much it takes out of her to lash out at this desperately-sad boy. "It takes effort to hate someone," Tae-Woong tells her. My heart!

Another fantastic set of transitions comes later on in the episode, when Mi-Joo and May are unwinding at the end of a long day at the film shoot.

This is such a great example of writing inter-generational female friendships. When May remembers not being paid for working overtime, it's an acknowledgement that things are better for working women (especially in film) than it was before, but as Mi-Joo's experiences show, there's still a lot to be done because women are still driven by a certain insecurity and anxiety to push themselves way too hard (as we see a sick Mi-Joo do later in the episode).

Of course a man tries to break this gathering up — because he wants to go to bed. Superb excuse, particularly because these women are talking how much they have to work — and it is deeply satisfying to watch all three of them shut him down and establish their right to unwind.

This scene of female friendship is followed by one that shows the friendship between the three runners. Then we get to see a fight scene full of male actors. The machismo of that performance is a sharp contrast to the awkward tenderness of Woo-Sik and Yeong-Il's conversation.

While on the subject of toxic masculinity, this is the episode in which we find out Dan-Ah's father forged Myeong-Min's birth certificate to make him legally older than Dan-Ah even though he's actually 10 months younger than her. All to ensure he has a male heir. It's a nice detail that Myeong-Min's mother is the one laying out the memorial service for Dan-Ah's mother because it hints at a sense of solidarity.

Also dismantling traditional notions of masculinity is Seon-Gyeom, whom we see at his most domestic as he cooks and packs meals for May and Mi-Joo, and does chores around the house once they're gone. It's very much an inversion of the standard male-female gender roles with the woman going out to work and the man as the homemaker. To underscore this point, we see Seon-Gyeom consider the leopard-print shirt (that May and Mi-Joo hang to give strangers the impression they've got an alpha in the house) for a second before putting it away.

Speaking of alphas, Mi-Joo's really got a thing for wild cats. In addition to that shirt, her blanket is also a leopard-print and when we see her calling Seon-Gyeom, she's standing in front of a painting of a tiger. All these seem to be digs at her posturing that she's strong and invulnerable and I burst out laughing when Seon-Gyeom folds the leopard-print blanket while muttering, "I'd have guessed this is hers even if she hadn't told me."

As disinterested as Seon-Gyeom may be in films, they play a big role in sustaining him emotionally. In this episode, it's the film set that helps Mi-Joo and him come together after their stupid disagreement. Equally importantly, the film set is where he gets the time and space to reconnect with his mother.

Run On has so much fun being meta with the film bits. The film shoot within a drama is indeed an old fake.

There are two film sets we see in this episode — one with Ji-Woo and the other with Mi-Joo. While Ji-Woo's set feels relaxed, the one Mi-Joo's working in is chaotic and taxing. The two women are also at different ends of the professional spectrum. Ji-Woo is a star while Mi-Joo is not just working behind the scenes, but she's come to fill in for the person who was the juniormost member of the crew.

When pointing out the main players of their film crew to Mi-Joo and May, Hui-Jin describes the cinematographer as "a bit racist, but still a gentleman". (Mi-Joo's response is superb: "Weird.") It's an interesting choice to make the cinematographer racist because that's the crew member who decides how subjects and scenes will be framed. "Racist but a gentleman" feels like a precise summary of the orientalist perspective which (aside from being overwhelmingly masculine) shows the East through stereotypes that are often superficially beautiful, but also reductive and damaging. Not surprisingly, this cinematographer is the reason Mi-Joo flounders while translating on set.

The film set is also the first time that Seon-Gyeom sees Mi-Joo's vulnerable side when she falls ill. It's such a clever choice to have Mi-Joo stop performing in a setting that's all about performances. Not only does Mi-Joo give up the alpha act when she's sick, she admits to Seon-Gyeom that when she's feeling helpless, her instinct is to resort to a performative lie — calling out for mom because that's what she saw other kids do as a child in a sick ward (imagine how isolated and neglected she must have felt to do this. Also, she's felt this way so many times that this performance has become second nature to her).

The anecdote suggests Mi-Joo's mulish championing of her self has its roots in past incidents when she tried to fit and either failed or was rejected. And yet, for all her strength and confidence, she's chasing phantoms and has been doing so since she was a little girl. All because she was alone and didn't have anyone she could reach out to for help. Which is why what Seon-Gyeom tells her at the end of the episode is so relevant. He helps her to reorient.

To which Mi-Joo, bless her leopard-print-loving heart, responds with

But my favourite part of this episode is the conversation that Ji-Woo has with Seon-Gyeom when he visits her set. First of all, Ji-Woo is playing a "vegan murderer", which is brilliant as ideas go and it's adorable how delighted she is about her violent roles.

I love how Run On doesn't punish Ji-Woo for sacrificing her family life for her work. Instead, it holds out the possibility that it is ok if you have that imbalance. In this scene, we see Ji-Woo's family reforming at the film set with Eun-Bi sending the coffee truck and Seon-Gyeom showing up just because Ji-Woo asked him to be there.

The mother-son conversation gives us a glimpse of Seon-Gyeom's bleak childhood and we learn that everything Seon-Gyeom did for his father was actually him doing what his mother had asked him to do. It comes as a surprise to Seon-Gyeom that his mother has noticed what he's suffered and that she understands how he'd hoped silently suffering would keep the family together. It's almost as though he's feeling seen for the first time.

Much like Dan-Ah, Ji-Woo may seem self-centred because of her ambitiousness, but she does notice what's happening beyond the obvious, especially when it comes to people she cares about. Both women are up against the worst of patriarchy. Also, I love that when she's talking about motherhood, Ji-Woo is blood-spattered — after all, being a working woman and a mother in a patriarchal is nothing short of fighting a war.

In previous episodes, it seemed as though Ji-Woo was the 'bad' (or at least not ideal) mother while Director Dong was the ideal, modern mother. Yet in comparison to how Director Dong later reacts to her son coming out, you can't help but feel Ji-Woo, with her unconditional support for her kids, might just be the better parent. What is great about Run On though is that that the script doesn't pit the two older women against each other as competing examples of motherhood or femininity. The point is that everyone's struggling, making mistakes and trying to learn from them. Ji-Woo is doing that and so will Director Dong eventually.

Love that the scene ends with Seon-Gyeom effectively declaring himself his mother's son. Take that, patriarchy.

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Five: Hello, My Old Heart

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// Five /// (Six coming soon) ///

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

You could visibly see the poor young man swallowing hard as he settled in the seat across from you and the rest of your bandmates. Try as you might to make the setting casual (cushy chairs instead of a desk, offers of soda and chips, greeting him with an ‘what’s up, my dude?’, etc.) Atem still seemed rather nervous. Not that you blamed him, you distinctly remember Honda making a joke about “oh yeah, ask the dude to come to our secluded studio by himself to meet five strangers, that’s not creepy or anything” when Yugi told you guys how he had invited the man to meet with the rest of you.

“So, Yugi said that you write songs as a hobby?” Anzu began, giving him the warmest smile she could, an effort to ease Atem’s mood.

He nodded, then started unclasping the latch on his leather messenger bag, “That’s right, I’ll admit, I don’t have too many that are finished, but that’s mostly due to boredom and moving on to a new idea, not lack of inspiration.” He then pulled out some papers divided by paperclips. “Here are the songs I think best represent my usual work, the work that’s easiest for me to write as well as what I would prefer to put out there.”

Honda grabbed the small stack and passed out songs to each of you. A bit of an awkward silence fell as you all started reading the various lyrics, but not even that could tarnish how impressed you were with the ones you were reading. Poetic, but not too over the top or pretentious, nice. You glanced up at the others, nodding your head with an impressed smile before switching papers with Yugi to look over another example (you also didn’t miss the way Yugi beamed at you). Now this song struck you, after only reading the first verse you could already hear the beginnings of a beat and chords you could put with the lyrics.

“Yugi also said you have a killer voice,” you said, shifting your eyes from the page to peer up at him.

He gave a cute little cough, “Uh, yes, I suppose I’m not a bad singer.”

You had to actively keep your mind from gushing over how sweet he was. The dude looked like a typical adonis hottie, but his shy outer demeanor just added an extra layer to him. He was wearing something more stylish than the few tabloid pics you’d seen: a long-sleeved black shirt with a silky maroon and gold vest, accessorized with a few rings, bangles, necklaces, and a pair of gold dangling earrings.

You shook the wandering thoughts on his attractiveness away; this was for business, not pleasure. “I was just wondering if you’d mind singing one of the songs for us, that way we can get a feel for the melody you had in mind.”

Again, Atem seemed to swallow something in this throat as a hand reached up to briefly play with one of the flat triangles dripping from his ears. “I suppose I could do that, but, do you mind if I play my violin with it? I’ll find it easier to sing with some music.”

“Of course,” you waved an eager hand, egging him on before handing him back the music sheet in your hand.

His eyes scanned the pages, reminding himself of what song it was before nodding his head and reaching down to the instrument case beside the armchair. Jonouchi had made a comment about Atem carrying his violin everywhere, trying to set a joking mood, but it just caused a flushed Atem to mumble about how he had just picked it up from getting its weekly tuning.

Once Atem was standing, violin in hand, he took a deep breath to collect himself. Then, after two slow heartbeats, he began to play.

The first note was a sorrowful one, long, like a quiet, mournful hum, his slender fingers pulsing to create a wave effect on the sound. Then he was singing. His tone came out like a deep, almost breathy moan, letting the lyrics flow like a story at first- before his tone rose and belted out the chorus.

Atem was captivating, pulling you in with every line, every inflection, making you want to hold your breath lest the sound of it distract from the song. He kept his eyes closed, lost in the music his hands and mouth crafted, and the longer the song went on the more he seemed to relax, to lean into his own notes.

You blinked suddenly, realizing that your mouth had been hanging open just in time to close it before Atem ended his performance on another soaring note and breathy lyric. He stayed like that for a moment, catching his breath, basking in the lingering sound of his song.

Finally, his eyes blinked open and shifted to gauge everyone’s reaction. You weren’t the only one left in awe.

“Holy shit,” Honda breathed.

Yugi’s beaming smile was at maximum sunshine as he leaned into you and whispered, “That’s the song I heard him sing at the theatre, isn’t it beautiful?!”

You nodded and opened your mouth to say something but Anzu beat you to it.

“Can you do that again?” she asked, eager, as she jumped up and walked to her keyboard.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you asked, also bouncing to your feet and joining her.

Anzu smiled back at you, “Keeping that longer intro and adding keys to it?”

“Yes!” you turned to Jonouchi- who was still staring at Atem like he didn’t quite believe the man was standing there. “Jou, add some drums? Something steady and subtle at first, drawing everyone in before the lyrics start and-”

“-and picking up when the chorus kicks in?” he finished, snapping to attention in an instant, “You got it!”

With that Jonouchi vaulted off the back of the couch, plopping onto the stool at his drum set. Atem was still standing there, now looking a bit bewildered and amused as he watched everyone get to work, perhaps some pride shining in his eyes that his music had inspired it.

“Atem?” you asked, tone gentle and drawing his attention back to you, “Can you play that again?” you repeated Anzu’s question, seeing as how she was fully engrossed in her keys now.

Again, the man seemed hesitant, “Shouldn’t you be taking over, you’re the lead singer after all.”

“Dude, we have to keep that violin track,” you insisted, finding your voice breathy as you pointed at Atem, “It’s perfect for the song, it’s deep and beautiful and-” speechless, you gave an exaggerated chef’s kiss to emphasize just how much you meant what you were touting.

The expression earned you a smile from the violinist, a hint of bashfulness mixing with the fresh and rising pride. “Alright, if you think it will improve the song.” With that, Atem lifted his violin, took another deep breath, and started the song again.

***

It was strange how no hands had officially shaken, no one even told Atem he was hired, but that session was immediately followed up by the band asking when his next free day was and asking him to come back for another practice session. Atem had never intended on actually playing with the band, but, when they acted so enthralled with his playing, he could hardly say no.

The next time they got together (almost a week after their first meeting) Atem found himself just as nervous as when he first met them. Parking outside their studio, he found his chest heating up with some anxiety. Atem never was good around people, after all.

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

He rubbed his hands against the steering wheel, letting out a long breath and holding it a moment, before making himself grab his violin case and climb out of the car. His feet crunching on the gravel driveway grounded him a bit and he had managed to calm down slightly before knocking on the studio door.

I've been so worried, you've been so still

Barely beating at all

He heard the sound of laughter coming closer on the other side of the door and a moment later it opened, revealing you in the doorway and more laughter echoing yours in the next room.

“Atem, there you are! Come on in,” you stepped aside and waved an inviting arm.

Atem felt the heat in his chest climb up his neck, “Sorry, am I late?”

“Huh?” You then waved your hand again as you shut the door behind him, “Oh no don’t worry, we just got here early, that’s all.”

He heard someone else call his name before he even got to the room where everyone was sitting, and by the time he did enter, the whole band was waving and greeting him. He cleared his throat before nodding back to everyone and saying a weak ‘hello’ before you spoke again.

“Come on, sit down and chill for a bit before we get started,” you waved at a beat-up arm chair even as you perched on its armrest.

Atem realized with a quick look around that there was nowhere better for you to sit and you were likely offering him your own seat. “Oh, that’s alright, I don’t want to steal your seat-”

Before his offer to sit on the floor was out, you shook your head, “Dude, we can’t have our muse sitting in a creaky fold-up chair, at least sit on the other arm so I don’t topple it!” You laughed again as Honda made some comment about how a topple would probably bust the thing in half.

His cheeks were hot now, but he took the offer with grace (or at least, as much grace as he could muster) and perched himself on the other armrest, setting his violin on the actual seat. Atem also remembered how last time, he had been offered the armchair while Anzu took the creaky fold-up chair. Everyone here really seemed to care about making him comfortable.

Hello, my old heart

It's been so long

Since I've given you away

When was the last time he met anyone who had greeted him with such...openness? Such compassion. And a whole group of someones at that...

He cleared his throat again, trying to draw himself out of his wandering thoughts. “So, are we just going to work out more of the music today?”

And every day, I add another stone

To the walls I built around you

To keep you safe

Everyone seemed to respect his want to get down to business, perhaps thinking that he had other engagements, and only chit-chatted for a handful of minutes, before getting down to their rehearsal. It went well, just as the previous session had, and Atem found himself in awe of how well the creative process of making notes together flowed. Just like that first day, everyone seemed to work off of each other so well, bounding ideas left and right, almost always being on the same page. Even when they weren’t, there were just a few goodhearted jabs and sighs before working everything out.

Again Atem found himself shaking his thoughts away. He really should stop, it wasn’t wise to get attached to this process, these sessions, these people. After all, he was just their ghostwriter, nothing more.

Oh, don't leave me here alone

Don't tell me that we've grown

For having loved a little while

He found himself smiling again despite himself, when you started throwing popcorn kernels at Jonouchi; retribution for a comment about how you needed to change the chords up in the third chorus.

“I’m not changing it,” you said with your tongue sticking out, all while Jou looked affronted at your kernel bombing. “It’s a steady beat, that’s the whole point! Right, Atem?”

At the sound of his name, Atem’s eyes went wide, “Uh- What?”

“Eh, don’t drag him to your side!” Jonouchi pouted, tossing some popcorn from his lap back in your direction.

“I’m not dragging, I’m asking his opinion, there’s a difference,” you said matter of factly, then turned back to Atem, who was sweating a bit now, “What do you think, Atem? Are the same chords during the third chorus too boring? Or does it fit the subtle, powerful nature of the song?”

“You’re leading his answer!” Jonouchi countered, again looking appalled, then squawking as you tossed more popcorn at him.

Atem was a bit distracted by the way Honda kept laughing as Jou picked kernels out of his shirt, but eventually he managed to swallow thickly and answer your question. “I actually like the way you have it now, if I’m being honest.”

You beamed at him, stuck your tongue out at Jonouchi in victory, then held the popcorn bowl out to Atem. “Thank you, my muse! Here, have some brain food.”

His face was heating up again at nickname- or, dare he say, endearment? However, even as he blushed, and took a handful of popcorn, he couldn’t keep that smile from making yet another appearance.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

When everyone called the day's session to an end, Atem tried not to feel...disappointed. Stop that , he told himself again, this was not something to get attached to. As everyone packed their notes away, Honda started asking about dinner.

“Heeey if I give you a ride to work, think you can get me a discount on nachos again?” he asked, turning to you with an eyebrow wiggle.

You scoffed, “Dude, the boss was barely okay with that one time I did it, I can’t convince her again. But I can just buy your nachos if you really want.”

“Where do you work?” Atem found himself asking, far too late to stop himself from getting involved.

“Oh- ever heard of The Mark? It’s a bar downtown.”

Atem shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. Admittedly, the only bar he had been in since college was the high-end one in his apartment building.

You didn’t seem to take notice of his embarrassment though and just shrugged, “It’s only popular to a certain crowd. Anyway,” you continued, turning back to Honda, “give me a ride and I’ll buy you nachos.”

“Okay, all this talk of nachos has me hungry,” Jonouchi groaned, “Let’s go with em, Yug.”

Anzu perked up at that, nodding to you as she said, “You know, I’ve really been craving your specialty daiquiris. Jou, got room in your truck for me?”

“Sure,” the drummer shrugged as everyone started milling towards the door.

Yugi was smiling brightly as he held the door open for everyone, “Guess it’s a band outing now! Atem, you want to join? You can follow us to the bar, it isn’t far.”

As his feet were once again crunching on the gravel drive, Atem had to stop. He looked back to the group, ready to see at least one of them giving an uneasy expression at the invitation, if not an outright protest.

Instead, he saw Anzu nodding her head eagerly while Honda locked up the studio. Neither you nor Jonouchi looked wary of the suggestion and instead just looked to him for an answer.

You must have thought he needed further prompting, because you said, “Hey, our ‘girls night’ plate of nachos is more than big enough for all of you.”

Atem had to swallow another something in his throat. All of you were already inviting him out for drinks?

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

“I- sorry, I have to get up early in the morning. Thank you, though.” Atem could only cast his eyes to the ground during the half-lie.

How is it being locked away?

He saw something flicker in Yugi’s eyes, but he was quick to hide it with a smile. “Okay, maybe next time.”

Your smile matched Yugi’s as everyone headed to Jou’s truck and Honda’s bike, “Have a good night, Atem.”

Don't you worry, in there you're safe

“See you next week,” Anzu waved.

All he could manage was a nod as he turned towards his own car.

And it's true, you'll never beat

But you'll never break

It only took one more session to get the rest of the music figured out, and then it was time to record. Atem was interested in the process, how the five of you set up the sound equipment, what programs you used, he even asked you how you had installed padding to improve the sound quality.

The video part of the recording would be left for later, right now it was just the song to worry about- though you did make a point to tell Atem that you wanted to discuss setting ideas for the video soon. Atem felt his heart swell a bit at that. Not that he wanted to admit it, but he was glad that you wanted to involve him in every step of the song. This song in particular, this first one that had so enthralled Yugi first, was likely one of the more personal ones Atem had written.

Your voice rose with the chorus, fingers dancing gracefully against the bridge of the guitar, and Atem found himself admiring how well suited your voice was to his lyrics. A perfect fit. Though you likely had no way of knowing the background behind this song or why Atem had written it, you belted the lyrics with passion and depth, cared for every bar as if you were singing from the depths of your heart.

Maybe you were. Music spoke to more than just those who wrote it, perhaps not in the same ways, but that hardly mattered.

He heard the way the ending lyric stole your breath, and his violin hummed its final note with you in a harmony Atem had admired a dozen times during these rehearsals. When the last note ended, everyone waited a moment, seeming to hold their breaths, before daring to move. When everyone did, Jonouchi was already bounding over to the computer hooked up to the recording mics. With a few clicks and a quick look over something on the screen, the blonde gave a clap of his hands.

“We got it! That should be all we need for a high quality recording.”

Everyone cheered or hooted at that, and Yugi made a comment about finally having something new to give their fans. Atem was smiling with the rest of them, but he was failing to ignore the way his chest ached just a bit. The song was done, and, unless they asked him to join them on stage, Atem supposed this was the last time he would play with the band.

Writing songs for them was all nice in of itself, but, despite all his personal warnings not to, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown a bit attached to these evenings and nights with the band.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

A sudden call of his name had Atem jolting back to the present, and he saw you standing beside him, a hint of concern creasing your brow. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-” he cleared his throat, “-yes, I’m alright,” he lied, just as he had lied to deny himself the after-work drinks weeks ago. “I was just thinking, we got so caught up in recording this song, that none of you got the chance to discuss if any others were to your liking.”

“What, any of your other songs?” Honda asked, and when Atem nodded, he literally waved the comment off, “Dude, I’m pretty sure we liked all the examples you gave us, right guys?”

“Definitely!” Yugi didn’t miss the chance to boost Atem’s ego (or rather, soothe any worries). “We actually looked over your other songs the other day, and all of us agree we want to record all of them. I told you you were a perfect fit for us!”

The words, as well as the wink Yugi gave, did make Atem smile, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the root of his woe. “I’m glad they fit with the band so well. If you want to know the melodies or themes I had in mind for any of the other songs as well, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

That seemed to give everyone pause.

Nothing lasts forever

Atem watched as they began giving each other looks, very pointed looks, in turns, and he couldn’t ignore the sinking sensation in his chest. They seemed to silently agree on something a moment later, because Anzu spoke up as her eyes turned back to Atem.

“Actually, we were talking about that a lot too…”

Some things aren't meant to be

Atem swallowed hard, heart starting to pound in his ears. Perhaps he wasn’t good enough, perhaps they thought him too pretentious, or maybe he had overstepped the boundaries of his role here, maybe he and his violin didn’t-

“How would you feel about joining the band for the whole album?”

But you'll never find the answers

Until you set your old heart free

Again, your voice put a break on Atem’s reeling thoughts, and he had to blink to collect himself again. “I- you mean, you want me to play for the other songs as well?”

More looks were exchanged, quick ones this time, before Yugi chimed in next. “We talked it over a lot the past week and we all agree that you gel with us pretty well! And not only that, but your violin really adds a lot to our music, we’d really love for you to record more songs with us, not just write them.”

Until you set your old heart free

Now Atem’s heart was pounding in his ears for a whole other reason. He almost wanted to smack himself when he felt the widest, most giddy grin he ever remembered smiling spread across his face.

“I would like that very much,” he said, cheeks going a bit warm when everyone was returning his smile.

Hello, my old heart

“So what are we waitin’ for?” Jonouchi jumped in, all enthusiasm and eagerness, “What song are we doing next?”

That sparked conversation, and everyone started chiming in with their votes almost immediately, Yugi and Anzu even digging out Atem’s sheet music for references. Atem could only take the scene in with a smile that was widening the more he watched them bicker good-heartedly.

And he was glad he had gotten attached to this process, these sessions, to these people.

I wanna share it with you

[palbabor-writes]

Yōkai

Hawks Week 2020 - Prompt: Horror Tales

Warnings: Ghosts, spirits, blood, gore, adult language, death, mentions of violent crime

Word Count: 9403

The people here are strange. They’re a superstitious bunch for sure. Everything has an underlying reason. Don’t forget to toss salt over your shoulder when you walk into that crime scene, Hawks. It’s bad luck if you don’t. 

Despite the strange mannerisms that surround him, they are right about one thing: there’s more to these killings than meets the eye.

Notes: I went with a whodunit theme for this fic with some healthy ghosts and haunts thrown in. As this is pre-All Might’s retirement, Hawks is the #3 Hero.

Yōkai

Yōkai are a class of supernatural monsters and spirits in Japanese folklore. The word 'yōkai' is made up of the kanji for "bewitching; attractive; calamity" and "spectre; apparition; mystery; suspicious."

The small island of Miyako is renowned for its turquoise waters, pristine coral sanctuaries, amusement parks, and sprawling mansions. All in all, it’s a trust fund tourist trap. Still, like most pristine and shiny things, there’s a seedier underbelly that’s scrapes against the rough, sandy bottom. Come at low tide and you’ll catch a whiff of decay and rot. 

Miyako Island is another example of that duality that exists within everything. No matter how pretty the water, there are always dark creatures that lurk in the shallow shoals and coves.

Hawks isn’t looking forward to his new assignment on the island. He’s been called in by the HPSC and Miyako’s police force. There’s been a string of unsolved murders and, with the onset of August, tourist season is in full swing. Homicide is bad publicity during the best of times. But, combine the discovery of freshly charred corpses popping up in various buildings, piers, and alleyways, with mass hysteria and you’re going to have a big problem on your hands. 

For eight open murder cases, there’s not much for Hawks to go on, and the data he does have is spotty. 

Hawks poured over the notes as soon as he got off the phone with the HSPC, the luster of the new assignment fresh in his mind. He swiped through the briefings and crime scene photos that were attached in the long email from Miyako’s chief of police. 

It looks like the trouble started in the poorer areas of town. No matter how bright the city lights shine, there’s always the common shadow of a downtrodden, overworked, and underpaid populous straining under the weight of “keeping up appearances.”  

Who else would do the nitty gritty jobs that ensured that the tourist season stayed afloat, and, most important of all, profitable? 

Sadly, it’s the blue collar areas that first experienced the horrors. The notes on these cases are borderline elitist, skirting close to xenophobic. The usual: ‘it was just something that happened when you crammed people in that close’. ‘What else did you expect’? ‘Most of the victims aren’t even from the island’. ‘They’re strangers, they’re not locals.’ ‘They’re not one of us’. 

The word immigrant pops up in the documentation frequently and it feels like a slur each time it appears. There’s a slinking, cloying animosity curling behind the looping words. 

It pisses Hawks off.

The only reason he’s been called is because the crimes have jumped over the poverty line. Now, two prominent members of Miyako society have been murdered. So, what’s the connection you ask? 

It’s the state of the bodies. 

All of the victims, rich or poor, have been mutilated. Something sharp was drawn across their skin, cutting and splicing, marring them, marking them. Then, as if to add insult to injury, they’d been set aflame. It must have been a scorching blaze. Something that leaves them so crisped and blackened that they’re more husk than human. In each case, it’s taken dental records to identify the deceased. 

The Miyako chief of police is doing a review of the known peculiars with Hawks. 

“They mirror the, uh, earlier crime scenes. As you can see, this one, she is, er, was a woman in her late 30’s-”

“She was 37,” Hawks supplies, his golden eyes running over the chart that the chief of police is showing him. He’s trying his best to hide his agitation, but his feathers still bristle, the red plumage flaring, refusing to lay against his back. 

“Uh, yeah, a bad age they say.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, it’s supposed to be bad luck. You know?”

“I don’t. Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?” 

Hawks has to grit his teeth to keep his tone even. He’s really not liking the way these crime scenes are processed and he’s made his opinion known to the police chief and investigative team. Why now, he’d pressed, hours after flying in, sweat still clinging to his brow. Why didn’t the bodies matter when it was relegated to the lower socio-economic citizens? 

He’s also critical and skeptical of the motives of this police chief. There’s something about the whole thing that feels...off.

 But, now’s not the time to project that suspicion. He’s only just arrived, besides, he needs more information, more data. Despite his agitation, he gets why the HPSC sent him on this assignment. He’s known for doing things quickly. Plus, he’s usually calm, collected, and he’s got the clout to get things moving again. 

He’s also observant. The HPSC both loves and hates this particular skill of his, but it’s to their benefit in this instance. His sharp eyes might spot something that’s been missed, they’d said on the phone with him as they handed off his assignment. If he played his cards right, they said, he could pull these murders from unsolved to solved. Oh, and the commission is thinking these murders might involve some agents from the League of Villains. 

It’s not a confirmed connection. 

There’s nothing solid about it, besides the body mutilation and burned corpses. But both are known habits of two members of the League. They’re shadowy leads, more steeped in hearsay than fact. All the same, one is rumored to have a fascination with blood, and the other, has a proclivity for using a bright, blue flame. It’s a hot heat, perfect for cremation and these bodies have all been practically, well, cremated.

“Have you met the other heroes that will be assigned to work with you?” 

Hawks snaps out of his head and nods at the tall, balding police chief. “Amano and Matsuura? Yeah, we’re supposed to take a look at the first locations as soon as this...meeting...is concluded.” Hawks hopes the police chief can hear the air quotes he just put the word meeting in. 

“Good, good. I saw your additions on the later cases. I really feel that we should look a little harder into those. One was a member of the city council. He was beloved by the city and-”

“If I’m looking for a pattern, there’s a higher probability that the killer was sloppier in the earlier cases. New habits and all. I’ll get to the councilman when I get to the councilman. Again, this string of murders started in the lowlands. While I realize that doesn’t get you the most publicity, and I hear a re-election is coming up for your position as chief of police this fall, I’m not going to pick at certain elements of this and leave others by the wayside. 

You gotta’ problem with that, take it up the HPSC. But, listen, they’re a lot meaner than me and they’re not going to like that you’re obstructing my investigation. You asked the commission to send someone down, and, lucky you, you’ve gotten yourself stuck with me.” 

Hawks flashes the police chief a bright grin, his teeth gleaming as his eyes crinkle to crescents. The man stammers for a moment, his face flushing under Hawks’ false joviality, then he tosses a bulky manilla folder on the desk. 

“Why you...I heard you were an arrogant son of a...no, no.” The chief sputters, his teeth clenched, anger bared behind the grinding of his jaw. “You’re right, we’re so very grateful to the number three hero taking time out of his busy modeling schedule to lend us a hand with these murders.”

“Ooh, you saw that spread in the sports magazine? Nice use of color right? Loved that new set of watches I’m sponsoring.” 

Fucking prick. Hawks is used to this kind of irate reaction, hell, it’s pretty expected now. He’d heard it so many times he has it memorized. Yeah, yeah, he’s twenty one, a kid who’s too big for his boots. He has no idea, no real world experience. Did you hear how he talked to me? The audacity.  

Let this guy try to report his snarky attitude, it’s not going to get his low level wannabe bureaucratic ass anywhere.

“I’ll get my agency to send you a signed copy. I had no idea you were such a fan! Lemme grab these files, got some work to do. Catch you around, sir!” Hawks pantomimes a salute, a serious expression making his eyes narrow. Fuck this dude. He’s got bigger fish to fry.

Closing the door on the police chief’s mottled expression, he meanders down the stairs of the police precinct, his wings still arching and rustling his temper. You’d think this case didn’t matter to these buffoons. The sheer implication of Hawks’ presence should clue them in. The HPSC doesn’t do anything lightly. Nah, these killings could be related to the League. Plus, his background checks on the victims had revealed some startling discoveries. 

All of them, down to the nineteen year old restaurant hostess, were involved in minor villain activities. Some had smuggled drugs, some laundered money on the side, one was a known broker. They kept climbing the ladder of severity. It was worrisome. 

While the chances of the LOV’s involvement was low, the commission was still searching for their hideout. He’d caught wind of some of the activity revolving around that ongoing mission. He wasn’t assigned to it, but he liked to keep an ear to the ground. 

Association with the LOV or not, these homicides kept bothering him. There’s something he’s not seeing. He dislikes the sensation. It makes him tense, ill at ease. Once he steps outside the police headquarters he launches himself into the sleet grey skies. 

It looks like rain. 

If he’s wanting to glean as much as he can from those early crime scenes, he better hurry. Hawks doesn’t like rain. It makes his feathers feel bogged down and dampened. Unfortunately, it has the same effect on evidence. Rain can whisk the little details away, slicking and drifting as it washes down to the vast sea. It can easily snag vital clues on its meandering path, erasing as it goes. 

******

The first murder took place on the fourth floor of a shabby apartment. The victim lived in the 19th unit and was a 43 year old male. He was a well known loner. So, it was a shock to discover that he ran a pilfering ring. The ring wasn’t a small scale enterprise either. No, this went deep. It connected to three other islands and the Japanese mainland. There’s no way this guy was a simple recluse. If anything, he was nothing short of a criminal mastermind. 

His body had been left in an odd position. It was likely staged, purposeful.  

He was discovered by his landlord. Rent was due and it was unusual for him to be late with the payment. So, the landlord let himself into the 19th unit. It’s a small wonder no one reported the smell earlier. Apparently, it was putrid, acidic, gut churning. A mix of tarnished copper and old, rotten meat. 

In all likelihood, he was murdered elsewhere and dragged back to the unit. Nothing in the room, besides his corpse, was scorched. The victim was splayed on his small bed, but the placement was strange. His feet were resting on his ashen pillow, shoes still on his feet. Meanwhile, his head was at the foot of his bed, pointing northward. 

Hawks and one of the assigned heroes, a friendly guy named Amano, are going over the case file with two members of the forensic team. Apparently, one of the team members hadn’t been part of the original investigation clean up and bagging. As Hawks and Amano are sharing the crime scene photos, asking the forensic team questions, the taller of the two, gasps, clapping a hand over his lips. 

Hawks tilts his head at the man’s reaction, his feathers automatically feeling for his pulse. It’s elevated and the guy appears to be truly bothered. It’s an upsetting picture, to be sure, but this is his job. He cleans up blood and guts for a living. Surely, he’s seen worse.

“You ok?” Hawks’ asks, his amber eyes shifting over the man’s face. 

“F-fine. It’s just, well, look at him.” 

Hawks takes the photo back. Did he miss something? 

“What about him?”

“Look at the direction his head’s facing.” 

“Uh,” Hawks examines the position of the hazy sun that peeks through the rain clouds outside the window. “North?”

Now the other forensic team member gasps. What the hell? What does facing north have to do with anything? It’s a cardinal direction. What would they say if he was facing the West? Again, are these people deliberately trying to bog his investigation down?

“I don’t see what, uh, relevance that has.” Hawks tells the two, looking over to Amano. The hero doesn’t seem to be bothered by their outburst. He just shrugs at Hawks’ frank stare.

“It’s supposed to be bad luck, but yeah, there’s not-” Amano begins, finally placing some clarity on the forensic team's outburst of paranoia, but he’s interrupted by the taller, jumpier man. 

“Not just that. You collect iron in your blood if you sleep facing north. It brings death.”

The guy said death like it might summon the fearsome spector down on them at any moment. Amano coughs, his hand covering a badly concealed smile. “Yeah, sure. Facing north is bad luck, and, I guess it can bring death, too. Learn something new everyday...”

“Worked pretty well in this guys case,” Hawks muses, arching an eyebrow at the jittery forensic team. “You guys see anything else? Something a little more, I don’t know, pertinent?” 

They don’t get much further with that crime scene.

Amano tags along for Hawks’ review of the other two cases. His agency runs out of this area and he was one of the first responders. He’s not got a lot of extra information, but he knows the people and they know him. It takes the edge off, lets the locals open up a little more. 

The next case is in a home. Well, home feels generous, it’s more like a shack. Apparently, the victim liked to collect cat figurines. Like, really, really liked to collect cat figurines. There’s over sixty of them, they’re scattered around the place, tucked into nooks and crannies. It feels like a thousand little eyes are watching the two heroes as they canvas the space. It’s creepy.  Hawks dislikes the sensation. His feathers keep lifting, feeling, spreading out.

The woman had been found at her kitchen table. She was propped into a chair, sitting, like nothing in the world, save her crisp remains, was amiss. The only way you could achieve a staging of that caliber was to wait for the body to enter rigor mortis. 

That takes time. 

Full rigor sets in around 5 to 12 hours after death has occured. Whomever did this must have had time to spare. And they weren’t worried about being caught during that time. No, they were too busy planning out the dramatic effect of their crimes.  

Once again, he feels like he’s missing something. 

One body was left pushing a garden cart. Literally, the man was found, early in the morning with his hands tied to a wheelbarrow. He was posed mid task, his arm lifted, reaching for someone, or something. Trouble was, the guy didn’t work as a gardener. No, he was a low level broker. Someone darting under the criminal radar. He’d eluded the police and heroes for months. Looks like his luck ran out.

The eighth body, the congressman, was discovered at a popular wharf. This crime scene is still in the process of being cleaned up, so there’s a flurry of people bustling around. Amano, and the other hero, Matsuura, who’s also been assigned to Hawks’ investigation, are talking with witnesses, gathering information and scheduling interviews. This kind of hero work is never ending. Hawks is grateful they’re willing to take on the grunt work. 

As Hawks is kneeling, peering over the ledge of the pier, looking down on the blackened wood and debris, a loud cawing breaks out. It echoes on the wind, coiling and lifting. It’s a funny sound. Like it’s far away and dulled. It makes Hawks’ wings fan out, overstimulated and brittle. The heroes and crime scene investigators debate on the origin of the noise. It doesn’t help that there’s no bird that’s wheeling above them. No, the skies are dark and empty, with a light misting of rain starting to drip onto the lashing sea. 

“What is that?”

“Is it a gull?”

“It’s creepy. There’s nothing even flying around. But, it sounds so close.”

“I think it’s a seabird. It’s gotta be, sometimes they fly out here looking for fish.”

“I’ve never heard a seagull sound like that.”

“There are other birds besides seagulls, idiot. It could be a pelican-”

“It’s a crow,” Hawks’ supplies, standing and turning back to the clutch of people who are quickly gathering up their supplies, doing their best to get the important pieces of evidence protected from the rain. 

“Huh? Did he say a crow?”

“Oh, damn, that’s a sign of death.”

“No...I think it’s illness, not death.”

Hawks’ walks to Amano and Matsuura, he tells them he’ll meet them back at the police headquarters. He needs to start his interviews if he wants to even have a prayer of snagging a bite to eat. He’s been subsisting off coffee since he flew in and his stomach is rumbling, loudly. 

The investigators are still debating the meaning of the crow caws when he takes off. His wings beat powerfully beside his head and he lifts above the grey storm clouds, coasting high, past the skyline. 

The people here are strange. They’re a superstitious bunch for sure. Everything has an underlying reason. Don’t forget to toss salt over your shoulder when you walk into that crime scene, Hawks. It’s bad luck if you don’t. 

Despite the strange mannerisms that surround him, they are right about one thing: there’s more to these killings than meets the eye. 

Things feel off in every crime scene. Were their belongings really left that way? Or, have the details been staged? Plus, the murders keep escalating. The particulars are spreading out and deepening as they interweave. The major connecting thread is still the state of the bodies, but even that is starting to feel vague. Hawks shudders a bit of excess moisture from the tips of his wings. Fingers crossed, some of these witnesses and relatives of the victims will have a little more substance for him to chew on.

******

Oh, they have something alright. 

It’s more hushed rumors and strange folk tales. God, the sheer frightened gullibility of these islanders is wild. The whole place feels so backwoodsey, lost in a bygone era. There’s always a prayer or blessing that needs to be uttered. Or, some supernatural logic that he needs to look into. Did you consider the devil, Hawks? He hides in the details, you know? 

It’s fucking weird. 

Hawks is treading in unfamiliar waters with this tripe. He didn’t grow up with any of this. The HPSC certainly hadn't offered him a course on Japanese islander folk traditions during his childhood. Still, these people, for the most part, seem well off, educated, cultured even. Some aren’t even from this island. But, they seem to be infected with the same disease: ghosts, oni spirits, and bad omens. It’s a whirling circle of nonsense and Hawks’ wants off this ride.   

“I got a call from her.”

“From the victim, your sister?”

“Yeah, it came in at 4:49 am.”

“Ma’m, that’s not possible. The coroner noted that rigor mortis had set in by 2 am”

“She sounded faint. It was like she was underwater, but it was her. She screamed at me.”

“She screamed at you?”

“Yeah, it was this low scream. Kinda, like a gasp? Like she couldn’t breathe. It kept getting louder and louder and louder. It hurt my ears. They felt like they were ringing, pounding. Then, the line just went dead. I can still hear it, that scream. Every time I close my eyes, or whenever I least...I-I can still hear her.”

“Do you have your phone records?”

Hawks is trying to make sense of it all, but it’s like they’re talking to each other before they come into the interview room, telling each new interviewee to up the ante. 

See if you can spook the number three hero. Go on, it’ll be fun. 

There’s a slew of strange occurrences. Disembodied voices, knocking on windows, doors opening on their own, quiet voids of cold that they step into. Ghosts keep popping up.

Then, there’s the oni spirits. They have red faces and they lean in close, their fangs reaching, gnashing, grinding. One woman, who was married to one of the victims, burst into tears, her terrified sobbing turning into a frantic wail. 

She had seen an ogre in her back garden. It was pushing a cart and the cart was on fire. Hawks’ checked his notes as he patted the woman’s back, trying to help her move through a few breathing exercises. One of the victims was found propped, pushing a wheelbarrow, could it be…

No. It’s another dead end. 

This woman didn’t know that dead man, the one who was pushing the cart. She didn’t even live on the same side of town. Ugh, this is endless. It might be easier if he did apply these delusions to his investigation. At least that way he’ll feel sane. 

Some of the victims had been acting suspicious, paranoid, on edge before their deaths. One of them had gotten a phone call in the middle of the night and ran off. The next day she was found dead in her home, burnt and drifting into ash. 

“So, she got the call and just ran out the door?”

“Yes. But, she let it ring four times.”

“You said that already. I’m not sure-”

“She picked it up after the fourth ring.” The aunt of the victim is looking at Hawks expectantly, her blue eyes wide, starting. 

“I don’t-”

“You know what that means...don’t you?”

“The hidden significance of picking up a phone on the fourth ring? No, no I don’t.”

They never fully expand on their weird theories. They’re normal comments to them. He debates looking up the meaning of the number four on his phone, but he tamps down the urge. It doesn’t pertain to the case. It’s useless drivel, a waste of time. 

An adult man shows him this ugly, ugly drawing of a cat. It’s pulling a flaming cart. Hawks doesn’t even want to touch the paper. The man keeps pointing back at it as he goes over his neighbor’s timeline. 

This particular witness is connected to the city councilman. The one that was oh, so important to the police chief. It’s a high profile case and it’s being taken seriously. Yet, here’s this supposedly credible witness, flashing a childish scrawl up to his nose, asking him to look for the phenomena, like it’s a normal request to ask the number three hero to look for nonexistent demons. 

‘There’s gotta be more to this’, he tells Hawks, his voice broken, fervid. ‘Something, something has to be there, after all, the councilman was murdered for a reason’. 

The man with the drawing is right about that, at least. 

These are not random crimes. The MO is too similar. Every single victim was involved in some sort of villainous activity. Yeah, the guys correct on that one sane theory of his: ‘There’s gotta be something there’. But, whatever it is, it’s not this cat thing. 

Hawks calls a halt to their interview and glumly munches on his cold chicken sandwich as he waits for the next witness to be called in. His head is pounding and he’s praying for some new development to fall into his lap, at least that way he can conclude things and get the hell off this island. 

****** 

The 9th victim is an outlier. 

He’s high up in social circles and he was a popular man. He’s also been accused of money laundering, tax evasion and fraud. He was acquitted on all charges, but his past never did stop nipping at his heels. However, that’s not what makes him an outlier. 

No, that’s reserved for the state of his body. 

Most of the victims have been burned to a crisp, leaving nothing behind, save bone and gristle. You can still see this guy's face and defining features. He’s a little charred, but it’s almost like the flames stopped right before they got past his chin. 

They transport his body to the morgue and Hawks finishes the combing of the crime scene, setting up a new batch of interview times and creating witness reports. He leaves just as the sun is dipping under the horizon. 

******

It’s late now, and the cool sea breeze blows in through his open hotel windows, soothing across his crimson plumage. It’s his first evening off in over a week. He’s still working though, typing his reports into his laptop. 

He’s forgone his usual coffee this evening. He wants to try and see if he can catch a full eight hours tonight. God, what a fucking delicious treat that would be. Eight hours? That’s the real ghost here. 

He shuts off his laptop and flops himself across his bed, his wings tucking into his side, burrowing his shoulders into their reassuring warmth. 

He slips into the lull between realities, his mind whirring, the case resting heavily against the forefront of his thoughts. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he can’t distinguish between dream and actuality as he drifts off. 

There’s something there.

It keeps to the edge of his vision, a dark shadow that leeches the color from whatever it touches. He can feel it watching him. It shifts quickly when he cocks his head to get a better look, sliding across the blank expanse like quicksilver, fluid and slick. 

He looks away from the edges of his dreamscape and turns. He blinks in surprise. He’s at one of the crime scenes. It’s the one with the man in the wheelbarrow. There’s a crowd pressing around him and that dark figure is blotted toward the back, lurking, watching. The people around him murmur and whisper, too soft to hear. They don’t seem to notice him. They also don’t appear to have faces. They’re just blank voids, with soft notches where eyes, noses, and mouths should be. Unthinking, Hawks reaches for one of them and his hand slips through the air, weightless and heavy in the same motion. 

When he blinks again he’s in that lady’s shack, the one with all the cat figurines. That wraith is sitting at her kitchen table. It’s not moving and he doesn’t feel particularly threatened by its proximity. Still, he dislikes this whole thing. If he can touch it, maybe he’ll wake up.

He’s stepping forward when he hears a soft mewl. There’s a black cat on a shelf. It’s tiny and lithe. It jumps in front of him, a low purr rumbling from its chest. It looks up at him, orange eyes fastening on his amber ones. Odd, he thinks, that woman only had figures. No living cats were evident in the house. 

The cat chirps four times. It’s a light, high pitched sound that makes his ears ache. It almost sounds like a phone. The cat lifts its tail and turns, padding soundlessly into the next room. Intrigued, Hawks follows.

Now, he’s walking down a street. The cat is still in front of him, weaving in and out. That purr of it is loud and sharp as it vibrates around his ears. He keeps trying to get the feline’s attention. He pspsp’s at the dark cat, clicking his tongue, but it doesn’t respond. Hawks is distracted, not paying any mind to his surroundings, wholly focused on the feline. 

The voice startles him. 

It’s rasping and deep and it’s calling his name. Not his hero name, no, it’s saying his real name, over and over. 

KEIGO TAKAMI. 

Keigo Takami, he thinks, stumbling over words that make him, him. It sounds strange now, foreign. He hasn’t heard that name in such a long time.  How did…

The voice is coming from behind him now. He whirls around and is face to face with that man. The 9th victim, the one whose face you could still see. He’s charred and battered, and blood is dripping in long rivulets from his gaping skin, pooling onto the ashen sidewalk. 

His eyes are wide, searching but not seeing. The pupil and iris are both milky white, rolling around in the cavities of his sockets. Then, his mouth pops open. It’s horrifically wide, like it’s caught in a scream. His teeth are crumbling before Hawks’ eyes, black pearls that slide from the man’s lips and clatter around his feet. 

Hawks is stunned, unsure, but, fuck, he can’t move. He tries to flap his wings, knowing that they’ll tug him away from this horror that’s in front of him. Except, there’s no whoosh of air, no lift. There’s nothing. What? How... 

His hands bat at the emptiness along his back. Where are they? What is this? His fingertips press along his shoulders, searching, desperate. His quirk, it’s...it’s just gone. He’s frantic now and that makes him clumsy. His feet tangle under him and he falls. Grounded, his legs instinctively begin to push away from the shell of a man in front of him.

The figure moves with him. Hawks keeps scrabbling away, but the man is even closer now and his bare feet are disintegrating with each shuffling pad forward. Still, he keeps on. Hawks tries to move again, tries to shift, but he’s been cast in stone. He can’t look away...he can’t…

The man is almost upon him now. His fingers are crumbling, the ash they create is making him choke. He can’t breath, he’s wheezing, unable to pull oxygen through his trembling lips. Hawks’ lungs are burning...

Then, Hawks’ wakes up. 

He’s sweating. His skin feels hot and his wings are flared. The feathers are quivering, searching. They bring him back bits and pieces. There’s someone sobbing two rooms over, someone is sleeping below him, their breath warm, he can almost feel it, pushing in and out, in and out. There’s a phone ringing. How many rings? What if it’s four...

Stop, stop.

Hawks tucks his wings back, ignoring the sounds, the sensations. The plumage wraps around him and he ducks his head into the darkness that they blanket him in. He’s comforted by the reassuring, solid presence of his quirk. He thought he’d lost it. His shoulders still hurt from his flailing motions. What is going on? He’s never had a dream like that. It felt so...so real. 

No. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He doesn't believe in this stuff. It’s not real. There’s no such thing as ghosts.

He tries to lay back down. 

He’s cooled off some, but his wings keep flapping, he’s stopped trying to fight them. His quirk is going into overdrive. This hasn’t happened to him in years, not since he was a kid. He tosses his pillow over his head, trying to stifle out the noise his quirk keeps drowning him in. He’s tired and overstimulated. Each breath stings and he tries to count, to walk through the steps that have been with him since childhood. Just be still, Hawks. It doesn’t matter. 

The sun is peeking over the horizon when he finally dozes off, his head heavy, fogged with exhaustion. 

******

Hawks grabs two nitro coffees the next morning. 

He practically inhales the dark liquid, hoping it will let him evade the haze of tiredness that thrums through his veins. It’s a slow day, thank God. There’s nothing of note that occurred the night before. Everything is pacing along its planned trajectory. There are no new bodies and the last interviews go by without any mention of spirits or the paranormal. 

Matsuura offers to take him for some lunch. Hawks, always eager to expand his palette, eagerly agrees and the two men head into the city. It’s a weekend, so the streets are crowded. People recognize Hawks and he chats with them, grateful for the welling of normalcy that the interactions bring. He’s signing an autograph when he catches sight of movement in a darkened alleyway. 

It’s not a particularly noticeable shift, but something about it feels strange. Hawks hands the freshly signed soccer ball back to the gang of kids around him and tilts his head toward the motion. He blinks. What the fuck? That’s not possible. 

It’s the man from his dream. He’s walking, steps heavy, sluggish and he’s moving into the alley. The 9th victim? But, but how? What? 

His wings react to his agitation and he hones in on the spot, reaching, snatching at anything he can sense. His fierce wings never let him down. They’re versatile, practiced and perfected. Feathers detach and shimmer into the midday sun, ducking around corners and onto rooftops, feeling. 

There’s nothing. 

No heartbeat, no footsteps, no voices. Hawks’ eyes had slipped closed as he felt for the man and he snaps them open again, his avian pupils dilating, constricting to a fine point. He turns to Matsuura and tells the hero he’s going to check something out. His wings lift before Matsuura can answer and he flaps into the air, the sea breeze assisting his ascension.

The rooftops are empty and Hawks scans the streets below, his wings rustling as he pulls himself along. Maybe it was a trick of his mind? Did he really see that guy? That’s a stupid question, how could he have? That man is dead. It’s gotta be his tired psyche. He didn’t sleep well, plus this case has been on his brain so much that he’s even dreaming about it. 

He lands on a nearby roof, his boots hitting the tiles roughly. Hawks closes his eyes again, sending a few more feathers out. The man, if he is real, will take this path if he is using the alleyway as an escape. There are no other routes available to him. 

He’s still attuned to his scattered feathers when he hears the cat hiss at him. His eyes open and he sees the animal. It’s a black cat. 

It’s across the street, lingering in an open window, its back arched and its fur standing on end. Hawks narrows his eyes at the aggressive display. There are way too many cats on this island. 

As he and the cat continue to engage in their silent staring contest, he hears a scritching sound coming from the street below. Hawks follows the noise, leaning over the edge of the rooftop. A child is playing below. She is sketching something into the concrete with bits of multicolored chalk. 

It looks like...huh? 

It looks like some kind of cart, but, why...why is it on fire? She is busy tracing the licking flames, a yellow piece of chalk clutched in her small fist. She’s humming a mindless song. It sounds like some kind of dirge. It’s soft and melancholic, following a minor tune. A shiver creeps up Hawks’ spine, but he ignores the pebbling of his skin, shaking his head.

Curious, Hawks wheels down, tapping along the street. He keeps a little ways away from the girl, he’s not wanting to startle her. His long fingers reach behind him, into his utility pocket that sits on his belt. He tugs out a small sticker sheet. He always keeps little trinkets in his pockets. It takes real effort to put people at ease and Hawks prides himself on his ability to steadfastly maintain that part of his image. He kneels on his haunches, dropping himself to a friendlier level before calling out to the little girl.

“Hey! That’s a pretty picture.” His voice is all light and honey and he has a bright smile on his face.

“Oh!” the little girl chirps, beaming her own grin back at him. “Thank you!”

“Tell me about your drawing.”

“It’s a Kasha.”

“Hmm, I don’t know what a Kasha is. Can you tell me about the Kasha?”

“They come to take away bad people.” The little girl replies, going back to her sketch, perfecting her lines and colors. 

“Oh! There’s a kitty in your drawing. Is the kitty a Kasha too?” Hawks asks, noticing the calico cat that’s attached to the handles on the front of the cart. It looks angry, vengeful. Strange for a kiddo to draw something so eerie.

“That’s the spirit of the nekomata, silly. Don’t you know anything?”

“Haha,” Hawks laughs, a genuine sound that makes him throw his head back, his hand bashfully scratching the back of his head. “Guess I don’t, huh? Do you like to draw...ghosts?”

“Not really. If I draw them they won’t-”

A distant voice is calling out a name. It’s female and coming from a house a few feet away, no doubt the girl’s mother or sister. The little girl calls back. 

“Coming mama! I gotta go, mister.”

“Here,” Hawks begins, detaching a smaller feather and drifting the little set of stickers over to the girl’s chubby hands. “Thank you for answering my questions,” he smiles. She coos and snatches the sparkly sheet, the sunlight catches the glitter that adorns the stickers. He tickles her cheek with his detached feather and she laughs. 

Her mother calls again and she starts to run off, her yellow shoes pounding on the street. Belatedly, she pauses before rounding the corner and bows low, a quick thank you slipping from her mouth. He waves back and smiles as she walks into her home, the door clicking behind her. Once he’s alone in the alleyway his grin drops and he stands, looking down at her drawing. 

It’s so freaking odd. Sure, sure, these cases are in the news. But the drawing looks...familiar somehow. 

Oh, that’s why. 

That man he interviewed, the one connected to the congressmen, had drawn something similar. Even then, back in that dark interrogation room, the strange figures looked like something he’d seen before, but where?

That nagging feeling is back. It pulls at the back of his mind. What is going on?

Hawks pulls out a small notepad and replicates the girl’s drawing, noting the colors and positions of the nekomata. As he sketches, his wings arc above his head, lifting and lowering meditatively. 

******

He comes back to the police precinct, his hands tucked deeply into his pockets. As he walks toward the chief’s office he runs into Amano. He’s the elder of his two assigned heroes and a font of knowledge about the island and its inhabitants. Maybe he’ll know something more about this doodle that keeps cropping up.

“Hey, Amano, you seen any weird drawings around town? Or, at the crime scenes maybe?”

“Weird? Like how?”

Hawks pulls out his notepad, flipping to the page with his sketch of the cat pushing the burning cart. Amano chortles, one gloved hand coming to cover his mirth. 

“What is that? It looks terrible.”

“I’m not much of an artist, I'll give you that one. In my defense, it’s based on a kid's drawing, so cut me some slack here, man. She said it was supposed to be a kasha and a nekomata?”

“Oh! Yeah, I can kinda see that now. I know what those are. According to legend, kasha appear during rainstorms. They steal corpses out of their coffins. Some of the older folks say they collect the souls of the damned. You can’t get the souls back if the kasha get them, they’re taken to hell, or eaten, depending on what version of the story you’re listening to. 

I mean, they’re all just old wives tales. We used to tell them on camping trips. They’re bedtime stories, something to scare kids into being good. Ooo, misbehave and you’ll get taken to hell. 

Eh, that feels kinda strong when I say it outloud, hopefully people don’t tell their kids stuff like that. Anyway, it’s not real.” Amano pauses, his head tilting at Hawks’ serious expression. “Isn’t it a little early to be getting into ghost stories? It’s summertime. Besides...” 

Hawks tugs his phone out of his jacket pocket, flicking through the crime scene photos as Amano elaborates on how ridiculous this ghoulish conversation is. Normally, Hawks would agree, but there’s got to be...oh...OH. 

There it is. 

His finger stills over the glass of his phone. It’s tiny, basically a scrawl, but it’s there. He flicks through some of the other photos, swiping through the different locations, searching. Ah-ha! Again, there’s that scrawl. This time, it’s almost cropped out of the photo. Still, there are two crime scenes with the scrawling of chalk. 

It’s a tiny drawing, so tiny he looked right over it originally, but now that he knows what he’s looking for, it’s there, plain as day. It’s a drawing of a tiny cart with a cat pulling the handles, lugging the wheels forward. 

Amano is still talking when Hawks looks back up. Hawks butts into his elaborations, not caring that he’s interrupting the man. 

“Ok, so they take evil doers away? Spooky. Question for you. You got any theories on why it’s cropping up all over town?” Hawks lifts the phone to Amano’s face. Amano takes the device and examines the strange markings, his brow creases, but he hands Hawks his phone back with a small smirk on his lips.

“It’s just talk, man. People do all sorts of superstitious things around here. Don’t look too hard into it. You believe what you want to, I don’t know. If that makes sense. Like those old sayings: ‘Don’t clip your nails before bed’. ‘No whistling at night’. It’s just something to say.

Superstitions are weird like that. Kinda like why you don’t have a fourth floor in a hospital. The number four looks like the word for death when you write it out. It’s bad form. It’s asking for trouble. So, don’t put a fourth floor, and boom, no problems with death.”

Hawks hums at Amano’s explanation. Ok, that superstition about the fourth floor, yeah, that one he had heard about. Amano claps a hand on Hawks shoulder and tells him he’s going to call a few more witnesses in. Hawks nods distantly, his mind whirring, processing. Despite Amano’s assurances, something still feels off.

******

He’s got a night shift. 

It’s only for one evening, so it shouldn't fuck up his sleep schedule too much. Hawks has already decided that he’s going to circle back to all of the crime scenes. He’s not used to being out of the loop, or being the one that people are looking at quizzically. 

He’d shown the drawings to the head investigator and the man had given him a blank look before asking Hawks if he needed some time off from the case. If he’d been asked that question a few days later, Hawks might have taken him up on the offer. 

It’s been five days since he had that dream, but he’s still seeing that man. He’s determined to haunt him, to flit on the side of Hawks’ vision, drifting around like a dead leaf in a breeze. 

He saw him at a bus stop the other evening. His dark hair was plastered to his face, burnt skin sloughing off his shoulders. He looked like a walking horror and Hawks had brought himself to an abrupt stop, staring at the figure below. The bus pulled up to the stop seconds after, the sleek metal shielding the man from view. By the time Hawks lifted himself higher, the man was gone. 

He saw him in windows, peering sightlessly out of the glass. He spied the man walking home from the train, trailing long streams of ash and smoke behind him. He never makes any sound. He’s not alive, so why would he? He had spoken to him in his dream, called his name, but after that? There was nothing. 

The vacancy of his presence is what startles Hawks the most. 

There’s nothing to feel, nothing to sense. It’s just this vast, blank, emptiness. For someone with a quirk like his, it’s deeply unsettling. Hawks’ life revolves around his ability to sense, to feel. The plight of the dead man makes his chest hurt with its loneliness and abject barrenness. Is that what it’s like to die? You drift into this void, alone? He doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go. Is this his routine? Is he trapped in an endless loop, playing out his final movements? How long does he have to participate in this charade? Is this some kind of purgatory for him?    

Distracted by his thoughts, Hawks spots a different man down a dark street as he flies overhead. It looks like he’s pushing a creaking wheelbarrow. Wait. A wheelbarrow? He looks again, wheeling back through the night sky, but there’s no one there now. No, the street is desolate, not even the gleam of the moon can brighten the winding sidewalks. 

Is this really a ghost? Do these visions even exist? Hawks has never given the topic of the paranormal much thought. It’s always been an outlier, untrue, and untested. A pseudoscience. Well, ghosts or not, whatever is going on, Hawks needs some rest. 

The rest of the night passes uneventfully and Hawks collapses onto his bed, drifting to sleep as soon as his golden head hits the pillows. 

******

After a goodnight’s sleep, it does get a little easier. 

He feels like his mind has cleared, the cobwebs brushed to one side, for now. Despite the clarity, he’s still seeing something. The man hasn’t gone away. No, even the daylight sun isn’t able to banish him. He saw him in his hotel lobby this morning, waiting for an elevator. By the time Hawks zoomed over, he was gone, the only evidence of his presence is the rising numbers on the illuminated floor panel, clicking up, toward the 4th floor.

That night, while getting a late night coffee, Hawks, long since given up his avoidance of caffeine in the evenings, spies something a little more sinister. As he’s paying the friendly barista, he notices someone lugging something across the road. It looks like it’s heavy, dragging against the street. They’re struggling to hoist it and it’s looking more and more like a body to Hawks’ frazzled nerves. He can’t be sure if it’s the specter that’s been lurking after him, but he’s not taking any chances. Again, Hawks is fast, but it’s not his speed that’s letting him down here. 

Each and every time, there’s just nothing there.

Is he freaking haunted now? Is that a thing? That crazy dream hasn’t returned, so that’s one, fleeting, plus. Wait. Does thinking about the paranormal bring it into existence? Is that how ghosts work? Ugh, if he’s going to be plagued, he might as well read up on this shit. What the fuck is going on? Is it the town? Is it the pressure of this case? Is it him?

As he takes himself, and his coffee, up to his hotel room, he ponders the strange predicament he’s landed himself in. He can’t fit all the pieces together. It’s too strange, too abnormal. He wants to lay down, try to get a little sleep. But, a hero's work is never done. He’s got another report to type up and another set of interviews to schedule. 

As he sits at the small desk that faces the window, he hears a strange cawing. It sounds close, almost like it’s right outside the glass. It’s not the call of a seagull, no, it’s that crow again. But, crows aren’t indigenous to the island. He’d looked them up after that discussion on the wharf. No crows have been spotted on the island in over 50 years. The last known specimen was an old bird, living in the Miyako zoo. It died over 3 years ago. 

Hawks pulls himself to his feet, scraping the chair legs against the floor. He opens the window and pokes his head outside. He can smell the salty aroma of the sea. It tickles his nose and makes him take a big inhale of air, filling his lungs with the crisp aroma. The crow can still be heard, shrieking into the night. There’s a soft, familiar, beating of wings, too. He cranes his head, scanning the blackness, his wings are lifted as well, but there’s no bird. Per usual, there’s no movement, and no creature is flapping its way into the night sky. 

He closes the window and the cawing echoes to the other side of the room before fading away. Annoyed, he takes a sip of his coffee. Hopefully that’s the last he’ll hear of it. He’s got enough ghosts fucking with him, thank you very much, he’s not wanting to add a disembodied crow to the role call. 

******  

The next morning Hawks is on a patrol. 

The murder cases have stagnated again. While this, on the whole, is good news, simply because there are no new bodies, he still can’t get that damned drawing off his mind. It feels like things are slipping away from him, pulling out with the tide and into the vast realm of the dreaded: unsolved cold case. 

He’s frustrated, no, he’s not frustrated, he’s pissed. 

He feels like he’s letting the whole town down. He’d been called out here to do a job, but what good has he really been? Sure, the townsfolk are weird, the police chief is an ass and the lead detective pretty much has Hawks written off as a conspiracy theorist nut, but he was sent here to do a job. He’s good at sniffing things out. He’s good at being a hero. He’s not good at waiting, and that’s all this case has turned into, one long stint of stagnation and thumb twiddling. 

Hawks glides across the bright sky, the sun reflecting warmly on his ruby red feathers. His eyes and wings are alert, feeling for any disturbances. He’s rounding onto the main street when he sees him.

It’s a living, breathing man. Hawks can feel his heartbeat, it’s pounding against the man’s breastbone. Only problem is, he shouldn’t be in the realm of the living.

The 9th victim ducks into a large bank, his familiar dark hair gleaming in the sun. 

Hawks maneuvers to land immediately, his wings tucking against his back and dropping him to the earth at an alarming speed. He startles the small huddle of pedestrians on the sidewalk, but he’s too intent on catching his quarry to smooth any ruffled feathers. He races up the steps of the bank, one broad, gloved hand yanking the glass door open.

There he is. He’s talking with someone. Hawks can almost hear what he’s saying, he just needs to get closer…

“Sir? Can I help you?”

It’s a bank employee. He’s wearing a crisp blue suit and his eyes are wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Hawks pauses at his question, then slides past him, but it looks like it was just enough time for the 9th victim to evade him. He’s walking now, disappearing from view, stepping down a back hallway. It looks like he’s following someone…

Hawks turns back to the bank employee, his wings vibrating with annoyance and impatience. “I need to talk with that man, he’s wanted in a murder investigation. My name is Hawks, my hero number is-”

“Oh, I know who you are. O-of course, please, do what you need to d-”

The bank employee’s voice fades as Hawks lifts himself, pulling over the heads of the people waiting in the lobby. A few feathers dash out, feeling, searching. 

Where did he go?

Hawks reaches the hallway in record time, his wings folding as he paces over the marble flooring. There’s not much back here, but it does lead to a large, closed vault. Damn it all. 

“Sir, sir, SIR! Can we help you? I am the bank manager. You’re not permitted to be back-”

“Sure, you can help me. I need access to this vault. There’s a man, you can check your security cameras, he just walked-”

“I do not have access to the vault. You will need to make a formal-”

“Whaddya’ mean, “you don’t have access”? Then find someone who does. Two men just...Damn it…”

Hawks phone is ringing, he tries to ignore it, but it persists, vibrating and chiming against his leg. The bank manager is bristling, his mustache quivering as he babbles on about warrants, and how heroes can’t act like cops. It doesn’t matter if Hawks is the number three, he can’t ignore protocol. He needs to come back with a warrant, or get out…

His phone’s ringtone continues to slice through the tense air and Hawks, after the 9th, exasperating, ring, lifts it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID: it’s the HPSC. Fuck. He accepts the call on a final, shrill note.

“Hawks, here.”

“You need to come back...there’s been...All Might...Kamino...attack…”

An intermittent static keeps breaking over the phone line. It’s a crackling sound, snapping and rustling, it makes his skin crawl. It almost sounds like someone is whispering something, just below the faint hissing. “What? The line is breaking up-” Hawks lifts the phone, ah, there’s no bars in here.

The bank manager is still carrying on, heedless of Hawks’ inattention. “And so, I am within my rights to ask you to-”

“I’m going to need you to wait here and don’t move. Yeah, yeah, sure thing buddy, I don’t have a warrant, but I can make things pretty rough for you if you don’t do as I say. You don’t want to be involved in this case, believe me. Now, do what I asked and stay here.”  

Lifting his wings, he flies across the lobby again, swiping a quick text to the police chief, if they hurry they might be able to catch this un-dead, dead guy. He jets himself onto the sidewalk, scattering a gaggle of beach goers. 

As he re-dials the HPSC’s number he hears it again. It’s the call of that crow. It startles him and he almost doesn’t lift the dialing phone to his ear. God, this has gotta stop. He scans the sky for any physical sign of the screeching bird. It’s close, cawing and shrieking into the wind. It’s different from the other calls it’s made. It sounds angry, desperate, trying to reach him...trying to tell him something... 

The line picks up and a voice repeats the familiar greeting of the HPSC. 

“HAWKS, here,” he says, vexed, eyes scanning, looking for the disembodied crow. 

The person on the other end asks for him to hold, and a few seconds later the head of the HPSC is answering, her soft voice both grating and reassuring to Hawks. 

“Hawks. You need to return to Tokyo, immediately. All Might has been attacked by All for One. There are developments that we cannot discuss over the phone. Leave whatever intel you’ve gathered for the Miyako police chief and get back here. This is a national emergency. We need all hands. I don’t need to tell you, but the implications of this are dire. Hero society as we know it will be forever changed. I repeat, drop whatever you’re doing and get back to headquarters.”

The line clicks and that static sound rises again. There’s a garbling, muttering sound that’s rising from the hiss. It’s saying his name. KeigoTakamiKeigoTakamiKeigoTakami. 

Then, all is silent. The voice is gone, the cawing is gone. A deep feeling of dread washes over him. It makes his feathers flair, plumage spreading and flexing. All around him, voices are chatting, laughing, living. They have no idea, blissful in their ignorance. Everything is, no, nothing is ever going to be the same again. God, All Might. If he can’t recover, if he dies... 

Hawks lowers the phone, his eyes wide. Suddenly, all these ghosts of his don’t feel so important now.

Notes: @hawksweek2020​

Beta edited by @albinoburrito​

[365days365movies]

May 10, 2021: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) (Recap: Part Two)

Said I’d talk about artificial humans in sci-fi, so...

There are a HELL of a lot of examples of artificial humans in science-fiction, as well as the ethical and philosophical concepts that their existence raises. Now, your definition of “artificial” may differ from medium to medium. At its base form, these are humans that are not born, but made. I’ll be talking fleshy organic humans, not robotic ones. The most common of these is, of course, clones.

A clone, strictly speaking, is a genetically identical copy of a pre-existing organism, in this case a human. While this isn’t technology we’ve applied to humans as of yet (due to the NUMEROUS ethical problems and questions), we have done so with animals, mostly sheep and cats. It’s actually a good way to de-extinct certain species, and we’ve already done experiments with that. Of course...that has its own concerns.

Keeping up the Jurassic Park reference streak! Anyway...

There are a FUCKTON of examples of clones in science-fiction, but since I’m a massive comic book nerd, I’ll use Superboy. The genetic combination of Superman and Lex Luthor, Conner Kent is one of the most prominent clone superheroes. He’s not the only clone of Superman, of course. He’s not even my favorite clone of Superman, to be honest...

Bizarro am the worst. ME WILL LIVE ON THAT HILL.

Oh, and let’s not forget THE most prominent artificial human in comic books PERIOD. I don’t care what her origin in the movies is, that’s never been my favorite version of Wonder Woman. Making her a demigod robs her of something important, in my opinion.

...Should I make a comic book blog? Shit, thinkin’ about it.

OK, before I do that, these are just my favorite examples. Fact is, there are FAR too many examples of artificial humans to go into, whether they’re built, grown, sculpted, conjured, or a chemical reaction with an extra ingredient in the concoction.

And look, I could go on all day about this, but we got a long-ass movie to get back to. SO, lets jump back in. Part One is here!

Recap (2/2)

Understandably exhausted, K returns home, confused and conflicted. However, he’s greeted with a surprise from Joi: a prostitute! Namely, this is Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), one of the girls who approached him earlier. Joi’s called her here in order to be “real” for K, the effect is impressive, if somewhat...off-putting. Still, while K obviously didn’t need this to be happy with their relationship, Joi might, and Mariette’s all on board.

And it doesn’t take K terrible long to get on board, either. As both Mariette and Joi strip, it makes me wonder...how much does this subscription service for Joi cost. There’s no goddamn way this is free, right? Like, how exclusive IS this AI? And they cut from that scene to a Joi commercial, where we hear that Joi becomes anything you want her to be, and does anything you want her to do. But something tells me that...well, that it’s not quite so simple.

Once the night is over, Joi tells Mariette to leave, and not nicely either. Mariette leaves, rebuking her on the way out as well. K, meanwhile, knows that the Blade Runners will soon be coming after him. He’ll be going on the run, and Joi wants to go with him. And so, they put her inside of a remote device, while deleting her information from the main apartment console. This gets the attention of Luv, who head over to the apartment to figure out what’s going on.

K goes to Doc Badger (Barkhad Adbi), who analyzes the horse for him. It’s discovered that old radiation can be found there, and that amount and kind of radiation can only be found in areas where a dirty bomb has been set off. This would be in the desolate and weird-ass ruins of Las Vegas. While nobody lives there at this point, K and Joi go to check it out.

An IMMENSELY frustrated Luv, unaware of K’s discovery about himself, goes to confront Joshi about K’s whereabouts. Luv berates her for being afraid of change, and tells her that she “can’t fend off the tide with a broom”. Which is a great line. However, as Joshi is no use to her at this point, Luv just straight up kills her. Which, I’m sure, will go over well with the whole “Replicants aren’t dangerous” thing.

Meanwhile, in Vegas...shit is WEIRD. First off all, the desolate wasteland is full of statues of giant sexy wimmin, and I mean GIANT statues. Beneath one of them is a series of beehives, which K goes into to get a hand of beeeees. After that, he goes into an abandoned hotel/casino, rigged with tripwires and booby traps. OK. What.

So, somebody’s using this place as a hideaway, despite the entire city being destroyed by a dirty bomb, and probably extremely radioactive. K searches around and finds it empty. He begins to play a piano, hoping to draw someone out. He ends up drawing out a dog, as well as the inhabitant of the hotel.

Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), baby! Quoting Stevenson’s Treasure Island and holding K up at gunpoint with dog at side is the original Blade Runner himself, Rick Fucking Deckard. God, I love this. Deckard hunts K down throughout the casino, where we see some trippy holograms, and the future of Vegas stageshows (probably).

The two fight, but eventually call a truce and decide to get a drink at the bar. K gets to it pretty quickly, and confronts Deckard on his potential child with Rachael. He confirms that Rachael was indeed pregnant by him, but he had never met his child. Which was the plan, to be fair. He wanted their child to be protected, not hunted down and eventually dissected.

Sometimes, to love someone...you gotta be a stranger.

To an old Frank Sinatra song, a forlorn K (now calling himself “Joe”) looks around, and sees carved wooden animals that resemble the horse that’s haunted his life and memories so much by this point. Which makes sense, considering the foil unicorn from the previous film. Neat little tie-in there.

But paradise is not all it’s cracked up to be, as someone soon comes to find both K and Deckard, despite the fact that K came alone. Although, now that I think about it, Joi may not be one that you can truly trust. Deckard and K try to escape their pursuers, but are caught pretty quickly. In the process, K is injured, but manages to get up in order to fight back. However, this is Luv with these people, and she beats K down EASILY. Turns out that Luv is actually an enforcer, rather than just a secretary. And when Joi awakens from K’s device to ask her to stop, well...she kills the device, and she kills K. In the process, she also takes Deckard away, leaving K behind. Fuck.

K wakes up, only to discover Mariette standing over him in the Las Vegas wasteland. She takes care of him as he wakes up, also stitching up with wounds from the explosion. She tells K to trust her, as well as her compatriots. One of them is the hooded woman from earlier, a Replicant named Freysa (Hiam Abbass). An old friend of Sapper’s she saw the delivery of the child, the “miracle”, and also hid the child away, as it was a symbol that the Replicants are more than just slave, that they are their own masters.

Freysa is building a revolution in order to free the Replicants once and for all. And I’m hard-pressed to disagree with their cause, not gonna lie. However, this comes at a price. In order to prevent Wallace from killing the cause, K must prevent Deckard from leading them to Freysa. They must do what they can until they can reveal the child to the world. For she will be their leader.

Fuck.

Understandably COMPLETELY crushed at this revelation, and more confused than ever, K collapses. Freysa tells him that they ALL wish they were the one, and they all believe. It’s at this point, that K realizes exactly who the Hybrid is: Dr. Ana Stelline. The horse from earlier, it turns out, did in fact belong to her, and she planted her childhood memory with the horse in K’s mind as a Replicant. Damn. DAMN! That’s why the memory moved her so: because it was hers.

Meanwhile, Deckard awakens to a separate nightmare: Jared Leto telling him how he feels about him. After all, Deckard helped to create the first Replicant-human hybrid. He asks him for his help in obtaining the child, so that the key of Replicant reproduction can be further unlocked. And he proceeds in convincing Deckard by playing audio of Rachael and his first meeting (from the first film, of course).

Niander fucks with him further, by suggesting Deckard was summoned all those years ago specifically to fall in love with Rachael in order to father a child with her. But despite all of this, Deckard refuses to give up any of his information. And so, Niander pulls out his ace-in-the-hole...and it’s a real shitty thing to do to a man in mourning. 

Damn. Dude rebuilt Rachael, tries to tempt Deckard with her, FAILS, then lets Luv shoot her in the head. Fucking power move, and fuck Niander for playing it. Dude is a DICK. Meanwhile. that one visual from every single ad of this movie is happening, and I can FINALLY use one of the 8000 GIFs of it, goddamn.

Not gonna lie, it’s an iconic appearance, so I get why it’s so famous. Anyway, K considers a suicidal option, now that he knows the truth. However, before we get to see the final decision, we get to see Deckard being taken back to LA for interrogation by Wallace. However, to prevent him from potentially leading Wallace to the secret of Ana Stelline, K suddenly appears, opening fire on their ship.

The craft is downed, and K exits the car to engage in a firefight with Luv. He appears to win, but Luv isn’t killed once she’s shot. The two have a fistfight out in the rain, and Deckard waits for water to slowly kill the craft that he’s still inside of.

As expected, Luv handles herself well, and despite a number of close calls, she JUST. WILL. NOT. DIE. Damn, she’s resilient. However, despite K, Luv, and Deckard all nearly drowning in an INTENSE fight between the Replicants, an enraged and crazed Luv finally eventually drowns, ending her threat for good. 

K saves Deckard from the sinking ship, and agrees to stage his death, allowing him to meet his daughter for the first time. Once at her facility, K returns Deckard’s horse to him, knowing that it was a gift from him. He tells Deckard that his best memories all come from her, implying that this makes him similar to Deckard’s son, which he picks up on when he asks if he’s OK.

Deckard goes to meet his daughter, and K hangs out on the stairs outside. He feels the snow fall on his hand, and he just...watches it all fall around him. He sits, and he watches it all. And meanwhile, Deckard meets his daughter for the first time.

...Can I just say...GODDAMN!

That movie was absolutely stellar, and it’s definitely landing in the high ‘90s for me, calling it now. I...wow. Seriously. Amazing.

See you in the Review!

[teruthecreator]

okay everyone shut up leave me alone Jack Frost (1979) maplekeene au under the readmore i have to get it out of my head or else i won’t be able to sleep

argo is jack frost bc blue skin and desire to be seen/appreciated by others. they call him “jack frost” bc of the original bearer of the title--jackal--who they nicknamed jack frost

jackal retired from the position of going down to the human world and making sure winter happens, and then argo picks up the position 

father winter is hieronymous bc it’s a bigass dude with a beard like. c’mon. EITHER THAT or its mother winter so it could be shebrie. i haven’t thought deeply about this part 

snip is hieronmyous and holly is firbolg. they both know far too well about argo’s obsession w the human world and its inhabitants 

elisa is fitzroy but his motivations and personality are completely different (since elisa suffers from Female Rankin/Bass Love Interest Disease). 

he isn’t outwardly “in love” with winter and jack frost more than he just enjoys the season because of the freedom it allows. it is also the season his mother enjoyed the most (in past tense bc in this one...she dies! for good reason i’ll explain). he does kinda “talk” to jack frost a lot, since he hasn’t got many friends and he quite enjoys walking around the woods alone. this is how argo comes to know and become slightly enamored with his mortal lad (i say mortal bc i’m still working w the fantasy races--aka a good excuse for argo to keep his blue skin) 

kubla kraus is the commodore. big asshole man with a beard. controls everything by being a lying, cheating, evil bastard. has no friends. yeah that’s him alright

sir ravenal rightfellow is buckminster!! and his importance to the plot is Completely Different from the movie. i will explain now: 

okay so PLOT is that argo is jack frost, the winter spirit who comes to nua (aka january junction) to make sure winter runs smoothly. he is fairly new at this job (the original jack frost being jackal, who has now retired in the land of the winter where all the winter spirits live. he’s sorta argo’s mentor in jack frosting and warns argo not to get too attached to the mortals, but argo’s heart is simply too kind for that to not happen. 

argo develops a very deep love for mortals and their mortal ways, but is saddened by the fact that he cannot participate in their fun. winter and winter again, he returns to this poor village and gives them the means of living and joy, but he can’t even reveal himself to them!!! because he’s a winter spirit and mortals cannot see winter spirits. so it leaves argo feeling sorta dejected, even as he continues to watch the mortals he’s grown so fond of

fitzroy, on the other hand, is a native to this village. imma just call it January Junction bc i like that name a lot. he grew up here with his mother and father (though his father very quickly excused himself from the picture because i hate stable fathers <3). fitzroy and his mother are as poor as anyone else in the village--which is to say Very Very Poor since kubla commodore owns all the money and supplies in january junction. then, when fitzroy is about 13 or so, his mother suddenly falls ill and dies. before she passes away, she tells fitzroy that there’s documents in the kingdom about a week’s travel (by horse) away that he’ll “need when he’s older”. 

for a very long time, fitzroy doesn’t know what that means

in any case, he ends up being taken in by gordie and his husband to grow up with rainer, his childhood friend. though he eventually becomes acquainted with other kids around january junction that he hadn’t really socialized with before (buckminster and leon, rolandus, zana, rhodes), he finds himself more inclined to solitude. 

especially during the winter, the season when his mother passed away

despite the sadness of it all, fitzroy doesn’t find himself so glum when he’s out amongst the woods. winter is just so...beautiful. almost ethereal. he’s known about the myth of “Jack Frost” for years, so he begins just...talking to him. well, “talking”, since jack frost isn’t Real. 

once argo becomes jack frost (right around when the two are like. idk 18), though, he becomes the recipient of these rants. 

that’s when argo’s infatuation with mortals becomes a very deep desire. not bc he’s like In Love w fitzroy or anything (not yet), but because he feels like he really has a friend in fitzroy!!! someone is out there who actually cares about him!!! and talks to him about things!!! even if argo has no way of responding

so one year (aka the year the movie takes place) argo is especially despondent about this, when kubla commodore nearly kills fitzroy in his ignorance 

if you’ve never seen the movie, kubla kraus rides a mechanical horse onto a frozen lake and nearly kills elisa by making the ice crack and send her careening towards a waterfall. assume that happens here 

argo saves fitzroy by freezing over the waterfall and fitzroy exclaims “oh, jack frost, where would i be without you?” sorta just like an exclamation. but argo takes this to heart. where Would fitzroy be without him?? he’s been around this guy for so many years!!! hearing him vent about not being able to afford knight school, losing his own dream while buckminster and rolandus run off to live it for him. offering him advice (that fitzroy cannot hear) when fitzroy expresses how much he Hates doing manual labor for no pay. even being a (frozen) “shoulder” to cry on when the grief becomes too much! 

and where would Argo be without fitzroy??? the man has practically become the sole reason argo gets excited for winter anymore, and he worries about the half-elf the whole year after. 

so argo makes a decision that day, heads back up to the winter realm in the clouds, and begs father winter to let him become mortal 

father winter is, of course, Not willing to let argo do that because he knows how mortals can be. argo argues that it isn’t fair that he has to spend the rest of his eternity watching these mortals live, get older, fall in love, and appreciate his work--all while he just watches silently, unloved, in the background

father winter is moved by this and grants argo mortality for One Winter under this condition: if argo cannot find One literal reason to remain mortal, then he shall return to his spirit form. 

(this is a slight divergence to the original condition of “you must obtain a house, a horse, a bag of gold, and a wife” bc i’m modernizing it slightly okay it’s not just abt marriage now) 

argo is confused by the wording, so father winter goes on to give him examples: finding a job that is meaningful, finding a person who loves him, etc. and then argo is off 

before he leaves, he says goodbye to higglemas (also known as “snip” since he makes the snowflakes) and the firbolg. snips gives him his lucky pair of scissors that have the word “snip” etched into the side of them. yes this will be important 

argo goes back down to earth, becomes a mortal, and crash lands in the woods where fitzroy is

fitzroy is slightly baffled to see just a random stranger in the middle of the woods, but the dude seems lost and Very confused so fitzroy offers to warm him up and help him out back in january junction. fitzroy lives in a sorta commune situation with leon, rainer and zana (they’re engaged), rhodes, and rolandus and buckminster (whenever they come home). the group welcomes argo in warmly and argo finds himself feeling right at home with this crowd of early-to-mid-twenty-year-olds 

argo almost introduces himself as jack frost--as he is known by myth--but catches himself before he can reveal that. he calls himself “argo snip” (bc of the scissors and the fact that his name is actually argo), a tailor in need of business. rainer--a seamstress herself--is more than happy to have someone else in the town to work on fabrics with, and the shop that rainer runs in the house expands to allow argo’s tailoring business

while this is happening, father winter tells higgs and firbolg that they have to go down there and make sure argo doesn’t die. so now they’re human and they end up finding argo at the house. higglemas introduces himself as higglemas wiggenstaff, and the firbolg just doesn’t say anything and lets argo come up with the name “bud holly”. they are now Also tailors, which is good bc argo cannot sew. 

for the few months of winter, argo enjoys life in january junction quite a bit. though things are kinda bleak, since kubla commodore owns all the gold, the town keeps itself in high spirits during the winter. argo and fitzroy Especially end up bonding during this time, and fitzroy’s solitary walks through the woods soon find themselves one additional member. 

this is about the time where argo realizes “ah fuck, i think i’m in love with this fool”, which is when he realizes the One Meaningful Thing he’s meant to live on the mortal world for: fitzroy

fitzroy, meanwhile, also finds strange feelings developing for the eccentric genasi. but he’s a lot more emotionally constipated, so he won’t say much about it yet. 

it’s a few days before christmas and argo and fitzroy are talking alone--the house empty for some reason (a rarity but a blessing). fitzroy is embroidering something that argo’s recently sewn as they talk, and he accidentally pricks himself with the needle. argo immediately reaches out and cradles his hand, which is when fitzroy notices for the very first time just how Cold argo is. argo laughs it off and claims that it’s bc he’s “cold-blooded” but fitzroy just sorta laughs and goes “i never said i minded...” 

for some reason, this causes argo to look up at fitzroy, and the two realize how close they’ve gotten since argo grabbed fitzroy’s hand. the two are flushed, nervous, but argo dares to move forward to finally capture those lips in a--

BANG! the door flies open as a shorter man, clad in gold armor, stands in the doorway. fitzroy jumps up--first startled, then elated--as he realizes Sir Buckminster Eden has finally returned home!!! 

argo reads this reaction the Entirely Wrong Way and is instantly jealous of buckminster. poor, poor idiot doesn’t realize buckminster and rolandus have been doing circles around each other since they were teenagers...

then it’s christmas!!! everyone’s too poor for gifts so they hand out invisible ones (like the movie), but buckminster has an Actual gift for fitzroy (which argo, again, takes the completely Wrong Way). the gift is a sealed parcel from the royal parliament, instructing that fitzroy Cannot open it until he is 24 years of age. fitzroy’s birthday just so happens to be the day after christmas, and somebody is Very Aware of this fact...

...that person? oh, it’s kubla commodore, of course! who kidnaps fitzroy later on that day when his guard is down. kubla commodore throws fitzroy in a dungeon and keeps the parcel amongst his many piles of gold, determined to keep its contents away from the one intended to see them

argo finds out about the kidnapping and the whole group is sprung into action to save fitzroy. but, since argo has none of his winter magic, he isn’t really able to be the help he wants to be. buckminster--having knight training--is able to scale the mountain quicker than argo, fight off the k-nights, and break fitzroy out of the dungeon. 

argo doesn’t know this because he attempts to scale the mountain from the other side with higgs and firbolg, where he is captured by the remaining k-nights. now They’re locked in the dungeon as kubla commodore vows to send a thousand k-nights down to january junction to “wipe out the insubordinates” 

argo has no way of breaking out of the dungeon because he has no magic. so, in a moment of desperation, he calls back to father winter to turn him back into a winter spirit. he returns to his jack frost form--which is incorporeal--and begins to freeze over kubla commodore’s castle (try saying that five times fast)

with argo back as a spirit, higgs and firby aren’t needed as mortals, so they return to the land of winter to do their winter work

meanwhile, in january junction, fitzroy is Freaking Out that they can’t find argo in this freak blizzard. he tries venturing out into the tundra himself, but buckminster and the gang holds him back, telling the half-elf that they’ll look for argo when the storm clears 

oops, the storm doesn’t clear! because argo keeps up the insane blizzard for the duration of winter (though he focuses a majority of the intense weather on the castle to seal kubla commodore inside). eventually, though, father winter notifies argo that spring is soon approaching. argo is like “why” and father winter explains: “okay so basically a tiny useless groundhog comes out of his hole every year and if he sees his shadow then winter dies immediately” 

who’s the groundhog? why, it’s Gotta-Go Gary!! who argo scares the living shit out of to make 6 more weeks of winter happen

after the extended 6 weeks are up, father winter tells argo that winter will end at noon on that final day. argo is like “if winter ends, then kubla commodore is going to Kill Everyone” and he bargains with father winter to be mortal once more (since he Still has till the end of winter to find his One Meaningful Thing) to set things right. 

he goes back down, defeats kubla commodore (too much to explain, shenanigans is how i can describe it best), and realizes he has everything he could possibly ever Need now to offer fitzroy in exchange for his hand in marriage

you see, argo learned during his time as a mortal that marriages have dowries? and now he suddenly has a castle, a horse, and all the town’s gold in his possession so that seems dowry enough. also he thinks marriage is the only option to prove to father winter that Love is a meaningful thing enough to be mortal for 

however, when he finally gets to january junction, he sees...a wedding?? who’s getting married?? and then he sees buckminster in his suit of armor, looking rather pleased with himself, and argo immediately assumes that buck and fitz are getting hitched 

he storms over there and rants at buck about how He’s the one in love with fitzroy and how much He sacrificed to ensure fitzroy’s safety and happiness. and buckminster is like “woah, woah, woah, friend!!! one, uhhhh where the Fuck have you been??? two, rainer and zana are getting married dawg. fitzroy is right over there, helping rainer with her dress” 

just as argo spots fitzroy, fitzroy spots argo. and Boy does fitzroy look Pissed. he storms over to argo, ready to chew him out, when suddenly the church clock begins to sound and argo looks panicked. he grabs fitzroy by the shoulders and is like: “i don’t have time to explain much but i have a house a horse and so much gold to offer you if you agree to marry me right now”

fitzroy is like “???? hello??? what??? first off, where the HELL have you been. two, marriage??? m-moving a little fast there huh--” and argo is like. freaking out bc he knows by the final sound of the bell he will be a spirit forever and so he just very quickly explains how He’s jack frost and he trapped kubla commodore in ice for the whole winter so he wouldn’t come down here and kill him and everyone else and if he doesn’t prove to father winter that his love for fitzroy is enough to want to remain mortal then fitzroy will never see him again. and fitzroy is like. flustered honestly but also rlly panicked bc like. he’s 24!!! he doesn’t wanna get married bro!!!! 

basically he’s like “argo i--i Do love you, but. marriage? it doesn’t have to be that Now like--we have time!!” and argo is just like. split-second decision says “kiss me” and fitzroy doesn’t even hesitate in doing so because Dang he’s been thinking about that for A While 

and as the final gong sounds and argo’s form begins to shift, argo breathes a final winter’s breath into fitzroy. 

then something...changes. argo realizes, as the bell begins to fade, that he hasn’t phased through fitzroy’s body. and as fitzroy feels this cold air pass through him, he suddenly finds himself...unable to feel the chilly hands cupping his face. when they part, argo realizes what has happened. 

fitzroy doesn’t look Too much different, but he’s definitely changed. his skin glows only barely, his eyes have a ring of winter-blue around the iris, and there’s a streak of snow-white in his hair. his outfit has also become a glittery, royal-looking affair--COMPLETELY different than the formal peasant clothes he was in seconds before 

meanwhile, argo has returned to his jack frost attire and look, but he can still be seen!!! by everyone around him!!! and by fitzroy!!! 

turns out, father winter saw that argo would be unhappy as either human (with friends and his love, but none of his friends or the satisfaction of giving people winter joy) or spirit (with his job and spirit friends, but without his mortal friends and love) and basically turned him into a demigod. demispirit? half-and-half. and, in order to guarantee fitzroy would be able to travel between the places, he Also made fitzroy into a partial winter spirit. 

all of their friends are like “oh shit did you two kiss??? also why do you both look so fruity” and then the wedding happens. they hold the reception in kubla commodore’s castle, where fitzroy is finally able to read the parcel!!!! 

what does the parcel say?? well, turns out fitzroy’s mother was a descendant of a line of royals. and, though she was not signficant enough to rule an entire kingdom, her father had granted her ownership of the village she chose to raise her son in. the kubla was only supposed to be a temporary position, until fitzroy’s mother was settled down enough. but kubla commodore liked his wealth too much!! so he poisoned fitzroy’s mother and made sure to keep fitzroy Extra poor so he’d never have the ability to find the proof of inheritance himself. when buckminster became a knight, he swore to fitzroy that he’d find these documents fitzroy’s mother mentioned on her deathbed. 

okay so ending shit. fitzroy gives ownership of the village back to the people. wealth is dispersed, things are fixed, everyone is happy. buckminster and rolandus get together, rainer and zana take over the castle and turn it into a BIG ol spot where those without a home can have lodging, and everyone is happy. fitzroy is Finally able to travel and see the things he’s never gotten to see, while also achieving some of the “bringing people happiness and safety” thing that came w his desire of being a knight by helping argo spread winter throughout the world. the two of them sorta go back-and-forth between their cozy little cottage in january junction, going across the globe to maintain the cold, and going up to the winter realm to see higglemas and firby and father winter. 

they’re in love, everyone is happy, rankin/bass Bite My Ass 

just kidding i love you and your silly little movies 

[eevee-haze]

Aight so It's... not news to literally anyone that I like Ink sans a lot as a concept, and his birthday is today, so I figured what better way to celebrate his birthday than to make a brand new AU (or at least post the info for it)! Or I guess three since I'm working on Swap and Fell variants for it as well.

One of my main questions about the Underground was "how do they handle seismic activity" which was how this AU started forming. It's probably not at all scientifically accurate in the least, but oh well. I call it Rifttale. Cause the earthquakes cause literal rifts in the mountain lmao. I'll put the rest under a read more since this'll get long.

The idea of Rifttale is that Mt Ebott is located on a fault line, and all the hollowing out the monsters had to do made the mountain extremely unstable, and that problem only increased the more the underground's population grew. It's pretty dangerous underground in Rifttale what with the constant threat of cave in due to poor structural integrity and the fact that they don't really have much to work with to make their homes and businesses quake resistant. A fair portion of houses get rubble rained down on them and something always needs fixing.

All four sections of the underground remain, but the layout and placement are different. (And probably larger scale) For example, Snowdin is located near the top of the mountain since snow from the peak falls in through the cracks left in the roof of the cavern, and Hotland is at the very bottom of the mountain, where lava has surged up from the seismic activity. Both Waterfall and New Home are around the mid section, but are separated by a thick wall of rubble that followed a quake that happened maybe days before Frisk fell.

Sans

The man of many jobs adds two more responsibilities to the list rather begrudgingly in this AU. As one of the only Monsters capable of gravity manipulation and teleportation in Snowdin, he and his brother are tasked with being emergency responders in case of an earthquake as well as assisting with any initial construction steps in order to make bridges across newly formed gaps. Sans often gets called to other regions for his services too, but he really doesn't appreciate it.

Frankly he's convinced the mountain's going to crush them before they get the final soul they need, which is part of why he agrees to keep Frisk safe so easily. He doubts anything will change about their predicament with or without them. A No-Mercy route in Rifttale would see him saying things like "Couldn't have waited for the mountain to get us?" Or "I think I would have preferred a cave-in."

Something Rift!Sans doesn't really tell people is that he's blind in his right eye. When he and Papyrus were little, he shielded Papyrus from falling rocks during a quake, and one of them got him good just above his right eye. Most of the injury healed but it left a nasty crack in his socket which prevented him from actually being able to see. He can light the socket, and does so strangers don't needlessly worry about him, but it can't light up all the way like his left does.

Papyrus

Ah yes the sunshine boy. Personality wise he's not that different in this AU. He still wants to be in the guard and he's still confident and friendly, but sometimes he gets a little subdued and worried about Sans since Rift!Sans is much more obvious about his emotional/mental struggles. Another notable part is that he's being kept out of the guard mostly because he's more useful in the emergency unit. He's strong and capable enough to be a guard, but he's too soft, so they gave him a job that was helpful while playing to his strengths.... though like a silly he doesn't see the admirers he has and still hopes to become a guardsman one day.

Frisk & Chara

These two are interesting in this AU. Chara was around 13-14 when they died and spent years underground with the Dreemurrs before their death. They have a strong distaste for their own kind for several reasons, among which being the way they were treated (that led them to run away in the first place) and the fact that they forced such nice creatures into what is essentially a death trap.

They're a bit of a gremlin, but they're certainly not all bad like they consider themself to be.

Frisk on the other hand is a quiet child of roughly nine years. Adventurous and curious, but also blind. They hadn't seen the hole when they were exploring and ended up falling down. They rely on Chara to lead them around the more treacherous parts of the underground since they can't see it. (Chara is able to touch Frisk and tends to tug them by the wrist when guiding them.) Chara starts off really unhappy about guiding them, and depending on the route will even refuse to do so, not that it matters in a No-Mercy route. That's because in the No-Mercy route the Player is more of an active component. Frisk physically can't fight back on their own, and Chara would never help them do so. Essentially the Player is just an entity used by us creators to manipulate Frisk into a No-Mercy route since it wouldn't happen otherwise.

Asriel & Flowey

Personality wise the two really aren't all that different. Asriel is the slightest bit more skittish thanks to his timid nature and the uncertainty that comes with the constant tremors, and Flowey is the slightest bit more bearable. He still doesn't have much in the way of emotions, but it's pretty obvious their situation is bleak without him making it worse (As such, while he has tried No-Mercy in the past, most of his runs were seeing what effects smaller changes had. The volatile environment made it interesting regardless).

Though he's notably far more annoyed about losing his save and reload powers in Rifttale because he'd been in the middle of trying something when Frisk fell.

On the more technical side, Flowey doesn't tend to get around much when there aren't bridges over the chasms. While he can cross them himself, its a pain if they're too awfully wide. This means that the severe quakes tended to impede him a lot.

Toriel & Asgore

As a result of the meddling Flowey was doing, Toriel reclaimed her place as Queen and has been talking things over with her husband about everything that happened. Stuck in the ruins she hadn't gotten the news that Asgore amended his statement later on to say that they would only take the souls of humans that fell if they were hostile or after they died of natural causes. None of the children who fell were killed by monsters. (Many died in partial cave-ins or from falling into lava or the like, though so a quick death from a monster likely would have been preferable.)

Toriel still thinks that going out and just collecting the remaining souls they need would be faster, but Asgore argued a few points on that such as doing so likely angering the humans and giving them a further negative bias as well as the fact that whoever went to get the souls may well die like their children did.

They're still working things out but it's better than how it was before.

Toriel still spends a lot of her time in the ruins, but now its more out of a sense of duty since most of the children fell into the ruins first. She actually guides Frisk up until they meet Sans where she passes escorting them to him since he is more capable of ensuring their safety, and she needs to hurry ahead to make preparations for their stay and inform Asgore.

Alphys

Predictably not much different personality wise. She's actually one of the safer monsters since she never leaves her lab and it's reinforced to withstand rockfalls to some degree, not to mention the basement level with the true lab in it (though its hot as heck down there cause of the magma nearby.) Her primary goal is more geared toward keeping the underground as stable as possible so that they can hopefully last until they get the last soul. That's not to say the amalgamates don't exist, they do, but she's at least been looking busy as sort of an excuse why she hasn't answered back any of the letters. No time for mail when she's trying to save people, after all.

Undyne

Captain of the Royal guard, still. The guard does still exist, it's just less numerous and has more focus on recruiting strong members. After all they exist in case a hostile human arrives instead. So naturally Undyne is even more of a badass than normal, and she's ready in the event of a No-Mercy run. Even in a pacifist playthrough she's a bit wary of Frisk, notably not wanting to leave Alphys alone with them in case they were hiding their true intentions. This means she's the one who ends up escorting the human through the first little bit of Hotland after Waterfall, whereupon Mettaton would take over.

Mettaton

Considering a Human-killing robot was no longer needed, he was created with maneuverability in mind. The idea was that he could help others when needed, much like the emergency rescue portion of the guard, but Mettaton much preferred to focus on his career of course. He’s part of the reason Sans keeps being called to help out in other regions which gets him a healthy amount of resentment from the older skeleton.

Gaster

No major story involvement, but he does have plot importance. Gaster was the Skelebro’s father, and while he made them artificially, he did care about them a lot. Not much about him still remains and very few remember any details about him since he was quite a reclusive skeleton. He was close friends with the Riverperson however, so that’s who ended up essentially raising the two skeletons after Gaster fell into the Core. They provided for them despite being gone a lot.

Misc. Details

Children that stayed for an extended period were often called the “New Hope” a term coined when Chara first became a part of the Dreemurr family

Not all children opted to stay with the royal family, hence their belongings being stored in different regions

There were hostile humans that fell as well, but most met their fate in the lava and their souls were burnt up before they could be retrieved.

Frisk had fairly negligent parents. They weren’t outright abusive, but they really didn’t pay much attention to them.

Portions of the Waterfall part of the Underground have large nets bridging the gaps to catch the garbage that falls down that way nothing gets wasted falling into the chasms.

The Delta Rune on Sans’s coat is a reflective sticker. They told him he needed to wear something reflective for visibility’s sake and because he wasn’t willing to mess up his jacket, nor go without it, he cheated the system.

Papyrus wears a battle body just like normal, but he hot-glued some of the reflective material from human clothing that ended up falling down onto it so that he could both look cool and follow rules

Despite being a very neat and cleanly skeleton, Papyrus often ends up dirty as a consequence of his job. Because of that he takes care to meticulously clean both himself and the house before they go to bed.

[r6shippingdelivery]

Outsider pov of a cashier at a shoo near the base has a crush on kapkan or glaz/chanka and slowly over time realized they are together, either by learning russian, seeing them be cutesy or smthn idk

I was about to go for the easy option, but then Tachanka's rework and elite came out, and with so many people thisting openly after him, I took this route instead, because Tachanka deserves at least one (1) lovestruck cashier fangirling over him :D 

And as always, you can read this on AO3 too, second chapter of the Tachanka/Kapkan ficlet colletion, woo!

Being a shopkeeper was terribly dull work, especially in a small town like Hereford. Same faces day in day out, same old stories. It was all so repetitive, she could have gone through it with her eyes closed. The most exciting thing she remembered was when old Daniels’ goose escaped from its pen and got inside Harriet’s pub. That was six months ago, and people still talked about it like it happened yesterday.

Then one day more people started appearing around. More often than not, foreigners. Everyone whispered about the nearby military base, looking at the newcomers with distrust, but she was over the moon. New and interesting people, that was exactly what the town needed. Who cared if they were military, they bought stuff like everyone else, right? And since her little shop was at the edge of town, it was often a place these people visited. That and the pub.

She liked to observe them and make stories about who they could be. For example, the young one with the Yorkshire accent, she could see him being the son of a general, and was following in his father’s footsteps. Of course, she knew the likelihood of getting any single detail right was minimal, but it was a fun way to pass the time.

_ _ _

It had been a boring day, and she was on her phone, browsing Instagram, when someone dropped a few items by the register. Anyone would admit the guy cut an imposing figure, being so tall and wide. And while most people would eye him warily, both suspicious and afraid, her mind had turned to mush in an instant.

Those arms looked like they’d make the sleeves rip if he flexed, and the hint of tattoos she glimpsed from his open shirt, oh goodness! Who cared he was a bit too old for her, looking was free and it hurt no one. Because yes, she was aware she was drooling over a stranger, but as long as every saucy thought remained in her head, there was no harm and she wouldn’t come off as a sexualizing creep. She barely paid attention to the items she rang, mostly beer and pickles, too busy stealing glances at this adonis in front of her.

“How much is this?” The man asked.

The first thing she noticed was the deliciously deep voice and the heavy Russian accent. Second, he was pointing at a cheap kid princess set, with a plastic tiara and wand. So not only was he sinfully attractive, he was a dad who thought of his girl too. She almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Luckily, she didn’t stammer when talking, but after that everything was kind of a blur. He left, and she kept a dopey smile on her face for the rest of her shift. Holy shit, you didn’t see men like that around this little town! _ _ _

Next time the big guy came to the shop, another dude accompanied him. One who had really nice eyes but looked like he was sulking or trying to hide from everyone. Mr. Grumpy, as she dubbed him, was quite handsome too, but not as much as his companion.

They wandered around the shop, talking in Russian and loading their basket. Despite not understanding a thing, she strained to hear what they were saying. She felt like a gossipy old woman, but at least she was able to catch their names: Sasha and Maxim. Pretty sure the absolute hunk was Sasha, and Mr. Grumpy Maxim, but she couldn’t be certain. Sasha didn’t sound very fitting for him, though.

This time she paid attention to the purchase, a ton of booze, and couldn’t help herself from asking, “Did you little princess like the toys?”

He laughed, which made Mr. Grumpy scowl, and answered, “It was perfect.”

_ _ _

A quick research showed her that Sasha was actually a nickname for Alexander, and that was a much more regal name, befitting of him. For some reason she had thought Sasha to be a feminine name, although it possibly was a nickname for Alexandra too. Armed with that knowledge, she was now totally confident in dropping her made up nicknames and using Sasha and Maxim instead.

However, neither of them showed up at the store for two long weeks. When she finally saw them again, they both looked dead tired. Maxim stayed by the door, looking grumpier than ever, while Alexander went to buy some cigarettes and assorted snacks. She gathered the courage to say “Welcome back” to him, in what she considered a subtle attempt at letting him know she noticed his absence. Alexander just nodded, but she liked to think his eyes brightened up a little.

On the way out, he handed a candy bar to Maxim, who looked surprised and hesitant to grab it. Alexander wouldn’t take a no for an answer though, and Mr. Grumpy smiled at him while unwrapping the chocolate. How sweet, Alexander was such a considerate friend.

_ _ _

After that she saw them much often around, much to her delight. Sometimes it was just Alexander, others he came with some other Russian guys, but most often he was with Maxim. These two seemed almost inseparable.

The purchases were mundane yet never the same, which sparked her interest. Most people had stuff they bought often, what she called “the usual” of each customer. But not them. It was like they wanted to try everything or get a sample of all the items available, one by one. Although watching them interact was far more entertaining than what they bought.

These two bickered constantly, like an old married couple, and she was dying of curiosity to know what they talked about. However, short of learning Russian, she would have to live with that mystery. Observing their body language sometimes offered a little insight, but not much. She noticed they were quite touchy, more than the average guy friends around here, but it was probably a cultural thing. There was also the time she could have sworn they kissed.

It was just a peck on the lips, so fast that she even doubted what she’d seen. But then Maxim scoffed and half-heartedly punched Alexander, shoving him away. Alexander didn’t take it badly. In fact, he was laughing, which only added to her confusion.

She even watched the security footage to make sure she didn’t just imagine that. And there it was, a fleeting contact that lasted a few seconds. Friendly mouth kisses were a thing in the ex-soviet countries, right? At least that was what she heard...

_ _ _

For the next few weeks, every time she saw them, she kept thinking about what their relationship was exactly. And they came to the shop pretty often.

All their interactions showed a certain closeness between them, yet a friendship could easily explain it. Aside from that one time, she never saw them kiss again, but she kept wondering. At first she assumed he was married and with a kid at least, a little girl. But maybe he was divorced. He could be unfaithful, but she didn’t like to think about that possibility. Perhaps he was with his grumpy partner and… they adopted? No, this was far fetched, she felt. They were Russian and military, no way.

The confirmation that these two were together came in two parts. First was the time Alexander bought condoms. She couldn’t help noticing it was the XL kind, and wow, whoever was the lucky one, she low-key envied them. The most revealing thing that day was the smirk Alexander gave to Maxim, whom for once didn’t look grumpy, but flustered.

The second and final confirmation was only scant days later, when Maxim got a phone call while they were shopping. The conversation was in English, and at one point he asked for Alexander’s opinion on what option he preferred, to which he asked “Whatever you like best, princess.“

In that moment, everything clicked into place. She had always known she had no chance with him, mainly because she thought he was married and she was no home-wrecker. And yes, he was taken, but not in the way she imagined at first. That was fine; looking was free and she was always discreet in her ogling. Besides, while imagining Mr. Grumpy being gifted a cheap princess crown was hilarious, it was also cute in a certain way.

“You better treat this man like a king,” She mentally addressed Maxim. Because from what she had seen, Alexander definitely seemed the type to treat his partner like royalty.

They looked happy together, though, and that was always nice. Good relationships were hard to find, and she wished them the best.  But it would also be great if she had the chance to see Alexander shirtless, at least once. A gal could feast her eyes and daydream, right?

[mousehole5000]

tgcf again chapters 174-191. im now midway through book 4. pain and suffering. and yet also.... this is really good.... but also.... pain...

okay cave of ten thousand gods everythings coming out into the light.... xie lian pretending not to hear fengqing drop their act im emotional..... fengqing silently working together to separate xie lian and hua cheng im emotional..... every word that comes out of mu qing’s mouth im emotional....

honestly reading the xianle trio discussing hua cheng.. its very hard for me NOT to project all the times ive been in a friendship trio and someone got a boyfriend the other two didnt like (which was every time. theres never been a bf everyone liked. sometimes i was the one who had the bf. there were no winners then and tbh i predict there will be no real winners here as far as this friendship goes but such is life)

mu qing is so smart he’s clever he’s tricksy i love it i love him ugh

“A pair of arms had circled around him from behind, and hugged him with force all of a sudden. Xie Lian had buried his face in his back, and also didn’t speak. Though nothing was said, it was enough.” okay i cant get into every different way im feeling about whats going down bc it would get Too Personal but this..... im emo. also xie lian saying “something like this has to be said clearly“ and then proceeding to not say a word just going in for a hug is a mood

“He heard Hua Cheng’s staggering voice coming from above. “...Your Highness. You really…will be the death of me.” - ok well DONT SAY THAT!! now im worried!!!

“Hua Cheng, however, only snorted, appearing as if his eyes could see through the thick rocky walls. He said darkly, “Don’t worry. If he kills one, I’ll make ten more. Fast and furious like the storms, I will never back down. Let’s see who’s the one left standing in the end.” Xie Lian’s heart skipped a beat for some reason, and he mumbled inwardly, “... Oh no, this is bad.” Even though Hua Cheng’s expression was subconsciously displayed, Xie Lian really was quite weak to this aggressive and rebellious confidence of his.” - fjadskfajsl its okay xie lian honey you never know whats going to do it for you

okay so are the murals and statues are only from the xianle era? im hoping hua cheng didnt secretly follow xie lian during his time as a mortal during the entire 800 years and then pretend to a total stranger that would be too much imo lets see. i still really do get why feng xin and mu qing are like “...dude wtf lets get out of here stay away from that guy” (also tbh probably if theyd all managed to stay close... this probably wouldnt be happening which isnt a judgement im just saying bc thats definitely how ive felt about friendships) although this whole thing IS indeed tinged with homophobia which i still dont think makes sense in this setting but whatever i guess.

BOOK 4!!!! im scared

“A few days ago he nearly fainted, and it was only after that did he realize it was because he hadn’t had anything to eat for several days.” - unfortunately relatable but :(

“Ever since Xie Lian was young, he had never had to consider these kinds of affairs, and this was truly the first time in decades that this problem gripped him. However, if gods didn’t even know what starvation felt like, how could they possibly understand the feelings of a starving worshipper? How could they possibly empathize? At this point, he could only take this experience as a form of training.” - TRUE THO!!!!!!!! i like seeing this even tho the circumstances are sad

wait does xie lian get his bad cooking skills from him mom? im gonna cry...

“After returning to the city, Mu Qing’s stomach was still turning. He said as he stumbled, “I thought…that porridge, it smelled like bran water, but I hadn’t thought it’d taste like it too!” Feng Xin gritted his teeth. “Shut up! Don’t force people to remember that pot of stuff! The queen is…body of ten thousand gold after all…never cooked…this is already…UGH!…” Mu Qing humphed. “Did I say something wrong? If you didn’t think it was like bran water, why don’t you…go ask the queen to grant you another bowl! UGH!…” The two were heaving back and forth, and Xie Lian grabbed hold of the both of them, patting their backs.” - xianle trio.... including simply because it made me do the pleading emoji in real life..... also the way the queen wanted to feed all of them... weeping

i didnt realize that mu qing would still be around during this time.... god the fact that i know theyre all going to split......

“It’s precisely because it’s a time like this that money has to be brought up!” Mu Qing countered. “A time like this? What time is it? Time when we’re starving! It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to admit it, but nothing can be done without money! Can you both not just suck it up a little bit?” - mu qing i love you. god.... for real the fact that he comes from a completely different background than the other two is so important to his character and i think it shows so much in the way he continues to be in the present. he gives me the vibe of someone who is smart and hardworking but is bitter about it and tbh!!!! i get why he is!!! he’s very aware of these kinds of concerns bc he’s had to be, while the other two kind of think theyre above it and its a big difference between them. he’s still separated by the circumstances of his birth despite how much harder he’s worked to get to where he is.... ugh painful and delicious

i really am enjoying the xianle story tbh. xie lian going from his highness, favored by heaven, well-intentioned but lacking in experience and understanding to living in poverty and fighting with mortals who disrespect him. fucking delicious i mean this sincerely and respectfully im sad but i really like his character arc. and then to how he is in the present....

“Mu Qing looked at him, speaking not a word. Then he bowed deeply and really turned around to walk away.” - OH NO ITS HAPPENING AHHHHH ;_; honestly all of this hurts but it feels real like i think mu qing has every right to want to leave honestly and he DOES have other family and other ambitions outside of the trio... and i get why feng xin is mad about him wanting to leave when theyre suffering!! and i get why xie lian lets him go.... friendships are hard man and the pain of them splitting is rough!!!!

“Mu Qing’s departure had really shocked him to the core. First, he had never thought that someone so close would just up and leave. Second, Xie Lian had always believed in “forever”. For example, friends would always be friends forever; no betrayal, no deception, no breaking up. Perhaps there’d be times when they’d part, but it for sure wouldn’t be over reasons like “life is too horrible” - pain. just pain. same as above i get it but it hurts

“Xie Lian didn’t know too well just how much money would be considered normal when buying over ten lanterns, and he never looked at the price tag when he purchased things in the past.” - i feel bad kicking him while he’s down and he’s still trying to be kind even when it costs him but this is the first thing that came into my mind

but also oh?? spirits of soldiers from the battlefield you say?? hmmm i wonder... who.... could possibly be among them....

“If you remain forcibly, you won’t be able to rest in peace,” Xie Lian said. The nameless ghost didn’t seem to care. “I pray to never rest in peace.” -  i cant lie this legit gave me goosebumps lol

“Xie Lian himself was alright in suffering through it, since there were far too many other things to worry about. But his mother, who had lived a comfortable, luxurious life, when had she ever done such crude labour? But if the queen didn’t do this work herself, who else could take over?” - hmmmm!!! housekeeping!!!! it matters!!!! rich people dont appreciate how much until they have to do it themselves!!! but this still makes me sad

oh god THATS when they pawned hongjing?? with the king sick and mu qing leaving?? :(((( even more emotional about its appearances in the present day

“That passerby chuckled. “You don’t know? This is too exciting! The servant is beating the master!” - oh god the dramatic and ironic timing of it all

god..... this is just... a sad time....

“MU QING ISN’T LIKE YOU ALL. HE’S MY FRIEND, HE WOULD NEVER HELP YOU!!!” [cut to] “Those were the only words echoing in Xie Lian’s mind, but he couldn’t utter a single sound, and could only crazily grab at anything at his disposal to throw. He didn’t care who he was hurling at, either. Finally, Mu Qing couldn’t take this anymore, and he steeled his face as he swept his sleeves and left. Xie Lian panted harshly for a bit and fell back down, spacing out again.”- IM SAD!!!!!! tbh i wonder if on some level xie lian kind of felt like mu qing owed him? i know he said to forget about that stuff to both of them but its one thinig to say it and think you mean it and another to have to deal with it

white no-face what is your DEAL!! also all the little fire ghost bits im...

“After having exchanged so many words, Feng Xin finally got the gist of what had transpired. He widened his eyes and pointed at Mu Qing, unable to speak. A moment later, he bent down and grabbed a sack and flung it over, roaring. “SCRAM! SCRAM SCRAM SCRAM!” Mu Qing was hit in the face by the sacks of rice he brought and backed two steps away. All three of them in the house were panting harshly.” - this is it this is the part where i closed my laptop and said “noOOooOOOoooo” out loud to my room im so upset... and mu qing still tried to leave the rice even after the broom thing im ;_;

“Feng Xin was completely convinced that he would never do such a thing, but that was precisely why this had become the worst-case scenario!” - pain, suffering, dismay, etc

“Feng Xin continued, “If Your Highness thinks your life might be in danger, I can finish this for you, I won’t tell Her Majesty, haha.” - bless your heart for trying feng xin

“But it shouldn’t be like this. The Feng Xin of the past would have absolute faith in him no matter what! Even if there was only twenty percent doubt, it was still unbearable!” - AHHHHHHH okay idk if i really have much to say about their relationship other than im sad but IM SAD!!!!

the differences between feng xin and mu qing’s relationship with xie lian are so interesting. feng xin has clearly always idolized xie lian a lot while mu qing hasnt at least not in the same way and he seems like he has some resentment towards xie lian (thats how i read it anyway thats what i said about it at the beginning of book 2 and i think its understandable and can be a very real part of friendships) that feng xin doesnt and i just think thats neat!!

“He was firmly tied down upon the altar, that broken base of the statue under his body. There were many people squeezed below the altar, and pair after pair of round, unblinking eyes were watching him.” - hmmm dont think i like where this is going

“Yet, before he could finish, he realized that the white silk that he used to cover his face had been undone. In this moment, the thing that had him completely tied down was that exact white silk.” oh my god wait is this ruoye?? is ruoye that same ribbon???? ill cry

“The hand stained with blood, the one that ended a life, was immune to the Face Disease.” - ohhh shit okay. okay okay. okay. shit okay. i See now.... so if youre an innocent civilian the only way to escape this fate (and the faces are actually the souls of other innocent civilians) is to get rid of your innocence... and doesnt this disease not actually hurt its just horrific? god.............

“White No-Face pitied, “You think they don’t want to do it? Wrong, it’s not that they don’t want to, it’s solely because no one wants to be the first, that’s all.” - shut up!!! youre the one who created this situation dont fucking preach about the way you think the world is

“He forced down the mouthful of blood and hissed, “What are you laughing at? You think that you got what you wanted? This was all forced by you!” The ghost fire within the ghost’s hand flickered even more fiercely.” - yes exactly!!! you put people in extreme circumstances sometimes they do extreme things!! youve proved nothing!! god i do love when characters say exactly what im thinking. plus the first ones who caved were trying to save their child

“He felt that, if he was to let them do what they wanted, there was something in his heart that would never return to its original state.” - :( also i kind of feel that in my life sometimes and i just hope xie lian’s heart ends up in a state he’s happy with

“He didn’t dare to look at what had become of the person lying on the altar, because what laid there didn’t look human anymore.” AHHHHHH!!! :(((( i mean i get why this event is what made hc... level up??? thats not a good way to describe it fjasldkfjaslk but you know what i mean... that line about being powerless to help your beloved OOOOOOF

okay well finished that chapter im. pain. hmmm. pain. i dont know if i actually have any words rn lol but im gonna stop here for now

[g3n3515]

Jaskier’s Fear

It’s come to my attention that many of us creating fan works for The Witcher concerning Jaskier like to portray him as fearless of Witchers from the get-go. This is all fine, I don’t judge, writing him/portraying him makes for some nice fanwork which I also enjoy but may I also suggest:

Jaskier starts off scared shitless of Witchers. Cause why wouldn’t he? almost every other human adult is to a degree. To mention, he is a noble. His opinions on the world and its intricacies are obviously based off books and stories distributed in the high circles. That much is obvious when he meets the elves; he accuses them of being selfish and hiding treasures in their golden palaces.

You know what says almost the exact same thing about elves? Books you can loot in the royal palace of Vizima. They paint as bad an image for dwarves and Witchers, too. Because of where they are found, I can’t help but conclude people interpret these works as factual and that they are distributed to high society.

So Jaskier, who learned at an academy and was raised by nobility, would have to have some opinion of Witchers from such books. When he goes out into the world, he has no experience with any of these things, so his current knowledge is limited to his readings, resulting in the statement with the elves.

Jaskier would fear witchers like everyone else. Because the books and his entourage just showed him that it was the right reaction. Obviously now, we are off to a bad start for him to build any form of relation with them.

But this is where Jaskier’s stubborn and perhaps self-destructive curiosity comes into play. If he’s curious, absolutely nothing, even great fear, will stop him from answers and discovery.

So as Jaskier’s travelling to discover the world, he walks up to a stranger in the back of a tavern. Obviously, his gut sinks when he realises the stranger is not only a Witcher, but the Butcher of Blaviken.

But terrified or not he is intrigued. He never saw a Witcher before. Geralt dosen’t look like what the bard pictured them to be at all. He boasts his identity to the whole tavern and what does Geralt do? he just runs off without a word. No aggression, no blood no nothing. He just stepped off.

What was up with that?

He wants answers. Despite how scared he is of him, he follows Geralt. He dosen’t relent when Geralt punches him, because Geralt didn’t kill him right there and then like he thought he would. He’s the Butcher of Blaviken and the stories paint him to be a bloodthirsty killer but he just lets him off like that?

Seriously, what was up with that?? He gets more curious.

When they get to the hunt and captured, Geralt is swift to try and protect him. His books though him Witchers were supposed to be careless but, but this one just threw himself in front of him and danger, no questions asked. It was… heroic, to say the least.

The fear shifts just a little bit at this notion. Now Geralt is still a big and cold witcher in his mind, but he is also somewhat of a protector.

They get freed and Jaskier decides he wants to know so much more. To his knowledge a witcher’s job was to kill, yet the Witcher riding his horse a few feet away from him did not kill anyone that day. Geralt meets none of his pre-built notion of witchers. He wants to know all of what the books got wrong, and he’ll sing about them too.

Then time passes and Jaskier’s view of Geralt goes from big scary witcher to just cold-hearted a bit later. Then he’s proven that’s not the case at all, because Geralt cares for his horse too much be cold-hearted. He saw him purposefully lose a fist fight to let a man get crowns to feed his family. Saw him soothe a child with his signs as they recalled his father getting shredded by a monster before is very eyes, and he does it so gently, kneeling at the kid’s level.

He concludes that beneath all that hard interior, the man cares. He cares so much that Jaskier a bit ashamed to he ever feared him. There existed not a single reason on the continent as of why he should. Sure, his exterior is intimidating and all that, but this was not what he was, deep down.

The association of safety and Geralt sticks to the bard after that.

Now the whole “he’s not scared” thing begins. Jaskier gets used to other Witchers mind-bogglingly quick and it is not ignored. Geralt’s brother immediately notice the human who has zero traces of fear. When questioned about it, the white one just blink, takes a whiff and says; “Oh, you’re right. He isn’t scared. Strange.” Because the change in Jaskier’s scent was slow and gradual. Geralt may have never really noticed the change before.

The bard isn’t scared because if Geralt dosen’t think they’re a threat, Jaskier reasons there’s no reasons for him to be. Besides, he learned his lesson of judging Witchers by appearance.

On his side, Geralt probably smelt how scared Jaskier was when they first met. He did not understand why the bard insisted on following him around if he feared him so much.

Admittedly, he is a bit intrigued too. So, he lets Jaskier run around him. He would just run off in horror eventually, anyway.

But he never does, even if the fear dosen’t subside. Geralt tests him, to see if Jaskier would flee if he were just mean enough, yelled loud enough, but the bard dosen’t relent. Instead he just bites back, sings louder when Geralt tells him to stop much more rudely than was necessary. He roughs him up, bats his shoulder, Jaskier just gets back up, says “ow.” Moves on. Hits back. He never just bends even if he is terrified.

Geralt eventually realises he cannot be rid of Jaskier. The tests are dropped. He notices how whenever Jaskier smells like fear, he hides behind him, after a while.

Geralt has no choice but to admit he was the reason of this because no one else was around to do such a thing. And I am sure as hell this realisation would affect him because someone who used to fear him greatly now associates him with safety and protection. Has it ever hit you someone found you safe enough to desire protection or help without you never doing anything but being yourself? To people like Geralt who have low self esteem, think they’re monsters or unworthy of things, that must be worth more all the riches there ever was.

Just food for thought but think!! About how much growth!! Jaskier and Geralt can just be used as an example too, imagine stories of random humans learning not all is what it seems and growing from it and Witchers realising those who stopped to get to know them treat them like normal people, like they’re important with no other explanation but the fact they’re actually good people deserving of respect?? It’s just so good!

[seokiloquy]

Sniff - Kuroo & Kozume

AU: Werewolf (with hardly any werewolf content, I’m sorry)

Requested (I may have changed it a bit, oops)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Miyagi prefecture was home to many subsidiary pack groups that often were at odd ends with each other. Other prefectures had more balance, forming alliances and annual gatherings to share resources and information. Tokyo was a good example of such, though there were smaller groups that covered less ground, they had a balance. Miyagi did not. Though you were never at the forefront of the various battles that happened between the packs, typically spending your time working on the gardening side of things (which had its own conflicts), you often watched from the sidelines as the various hunters and athletes competed against each other. Training, practicing, getting stronger.

Shiratorizawa was at the top of the food chain in Miyagi, they had the strongest hunters and the largest pack. Aoba Johsai was a rising opponent but never quite made it to the top. Other groups often watched the competitors duke it out when they crossed paths, practice or otherwise. Karasuno, your home base, was small. Most of the buildings in the surrounding area were short and the ground was great for harvesting. Other packs came to your home in need of rice or other vegetables. It had been years since Karasuno was seen as a pack with a fighting chance in the annual trials. The generation that had been known to be award-winning athletes had now grown out of their peak metabolic state, moving on to join the workforce. Very few continued in their sport.

Your family was the head of harvesting. Your father worked with roots and your mother took charge of the pickings, and in your free moments outside of school, you worked in the rice fields. Breaking your back (and others) to gather all the grain when you weren’t learning through the day. 

It was crunch time this year. By some odd chance, three of your town’s teams had made it to the national tournament, beating out the arguably stronger teams of Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa. Because of this, you (and everyone else in the community that weren’t part of the training teams) had to gather as many resources as possible to award the winning communities in their respective fields at the end of the tournament. 

Everything hurts your brain nowadays. This time of the year was a drag. Despite being happy about your pack’s success, you desperately wished that only one team had succeeded. Now, you had to gather three times more rice than you normally did. 

Sadly, Karasuno never qualified for any of the traditional competitions. Hunting, tracking, and speed wasn’t in high demand for a mostly harvest based group. It was the new age games that Karasuno managed to succeed in. Soccer -just like every year-, Tennis, and Volleyball. The latter two were the surprising wins.

“(L/N), do you want a hand with that?” Yoshida was in his final year of participating in these games but as a member of the pack’s soccer team, the two of you had gotten to know each other over years of competition.

You gladly handed over the large wicker basket that held the harvested paddies, “Thanks.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you this year, don’t you?” the dark-haired player asked rhetorically.

You sighed, “I still have to mill every grain,” you sniffed, “You know what, give that back.”

“Huh? Why?” he asked, handing the large basket back.

“Oujiyama.”

Without warning, besides the brief name you had given, the tennis captain railed into the side of the soccer player, tackling him down. The large wolf easily shifted into his normal form, laughing at the startled man below him. Yoshida growled, easily retaliating and turned the quaffed hair of Oujiyama into a bird’s nest. Bouncing the wicker basket in your arms, you sighed and left the two competing wolves to wrestle in the dirt.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you two were alpha’s fighting for a mate’s attention.”

Oujiyama was the first to recover from the tussle on the ground, brushing off the dirt from his shoulders, “I am an alpha!”

Yoshida, a beta, took the comment as a compliment. He started skipping to catch up to you.

“Maybe, but I know better. Your guys’ egos are just massive.”

Yoshida stopped skipping and swiped the basket from you with a pout.

The three of you travelled to the outer edge of Karasuno’s community, where a small truck was parked. Yoshida dropped the basket in the back along with all of the other containers of food and draped the tarp over it all. 

“Are you guys heading in early?”

Nodding, you tied the blue tarp down to the edges of the truck. “Ya, we have to finish preparing the rice and help set everything up before all the packs show up.” You let out a whining breath, “It’s too much work. Luckily others from other packs will be there to help and the teams that are already in Tokyo will be helping too.”

With the help of some of the other paddy workers across Tokyo, you managed to mill all of the rice that had been brought in three days. Those days were spent waking up before the hunters came back from their treks at dawn, and working on your knees until long after the sun had set. Now your muscles hurt, your nose was stuffed and you desperately wanted some tea.

Stupid sniffer.

“(Y/N), you’re off work right? Can you go to the sport competition sites and bring some of these towels?”

“Huh? Oh sure,” you held out your arms to carry the stack of soft materials. “Which ones should I go to?”

The suit-clad woman checked the list in her hand before pointing behind you. 

“If you walk south you can take a circular route from the wolf and human sprint courses, through the tennis courts and basketball gyms to end up at the volleyball gym. The Tokyo teams are practicing and all of the other packs are expected to arrive later this evening, make sure that there are enough. Oh, those too,” she pointed to a towel filled cart.

Your brain felt numb again. You laughed pitifully as the woman walked away, watching as she yelled at a few brawling wolves on the path. Dropping the towels onto the rolling cart to your side, you began pushing the large weight in the direction of the tracks. You desperately wanted to smell the clean cotton but your nose was clogged. A whine escaped you.

Most of the competing players were taking breaks, a lot of the boys had shifted into their wolf forms to lounge in the sun and pant while a majority of the girls decided to stick to the shade and drink water. They both thankfully took the towels you delivered, though a few came close to biting your hand as they did.

While at the tennis court Oujiyama ran up to you, racket held tightly in his mouth whining for you to pour water over his head. You complied but weren’t too happy about it.

It was only when you made it to the volleyball courts where the players had been playing rigorously. You delivered the towels to the girl’s teams before making your way to the boys, who were yelling much louder than you would expect them to.

“Excuse me, sir, I brought some towels.”

The old man looked your way. His arms were tightly crossed over his chest and his eyes seemed to be set in a permanent glare meant for scrutinizing every movement before him.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, flicking his wrist to look at the watch that was hidden under his red sleeve. “I guess it is a good time for a break. Boys!”

All the heads on the court turned your way, including those that were clearly from different packs. The old man looked sent a questioning look in the direction of the other coaches, who gave a positive nod.

“Break!”

Immediately all the players ran in the direction of their water bottles. Some shifted in hopes to get there faster than the others, nearly breaking their bottles in the grip of the wolf jaws, and startling their managers in the process. Some began to line up before you, politely asking for towels to which you responded by gently holding them out or dropping it around furry necks.

“You seem tired,” the last one said in a hushed tone.

You let out a sigh, “I’ve been preparing rice for the winning prizes for the past few days, and now that that’s done I need to help with other preparations before all the packs arrive.”

The boy hummed, taking a sip from his bottle, “do you at least get to have a break to watch the games?”

“Thankfully,” you said as you leaned against the now empty cart, sniffing. “It’s like this every year to an extent but this time we have three groups competing which means three times the work.”

The boy took the space beside you, letting his weight shift the cart slightly. “What pack do you come from?” He asked.

“Karasuno.”

“Ah, do you know Shoyo?”

You shrugged a shoulder, “I’ve never actually spoken to the volleyball team, but I’ve seen them around. I tend to spend most of my time working, so any of the people I talk to are mostly out of convenience.” You thought about Yoshida and Oujiyama for a moment, “Or they just pester me for food.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You dug your shoe into the wooden floor, “So what’s your name any-”

“Hey Kenma.”

“It’s Kozume. That’s Kuroo.”

“Tetsurou.”

The tall black-haired player that had interrupted the boy you were speaking to -Kozume- walked over with his hands placed on his hips. He breathed deeply before letting out an amused huff. Kozume huffed.

“You’re willing to talk to a stranger you just met over your own team? That’s new.”

“The stranger’s name is-”

“(Y/N).”

“That. And unlike the team (Y/N) actually relaxed and not loud.”

“Are you saying that that’s not relaxed?” Kuroo asked, throwing an arm out to gesture back to his teammates.

The boys he was referring to were all sprawled across the floor breathing heavily. One, in particular, was in his wolf form rolled onto his back while holding the squeezable water bottle between his teeth, squishing it, and chugging down the contents that poured out. Kenma pushed off the cart to stand next to Kuroo.

“That’s exhaustion, not relaxation.”

As the two bickered back and forth, you spun around to grab the handle of your cart.

“I’ll just go. I’ll see you two around.”

They paid you no mind, continuing to argue over Kenma’s relationships with his teammates. Despite the topic being focused on the dyed blonde, Kuroo seemed to be the more passionate of the two regarding the topic.

Nodding, you shuffled backwards while chewing your lip. The coaches, having caught your exit, sent you grateful smiles and waves that you returned before scooting yourself out of there.

Meeting your own packs volleyball team was an interesting experience. As soon as the bus doors opened a few of them, in the canine forms, jumped out and began running around the open parking lot. They howled continuously until their captain had to yell them down. You started speaking to Ukai and Takeda, showing them a map of the area.

When the Nekoma volleyball team came to greet them it seemed as though all hell broke loose. Nekomata came to your side, gently taking the map from your hands and began leading the coaches in the right direction.

You began walking behind the older men, silently listening in to their conversation and chiming in wherever there was a turn to be made.

Kozume began to walk alongside you, taking who turned out to be Shoyo with him. How you managed to participate in their conversation was beyond you, but you mentally thanked Kozume’s ability to keep the energetic orange talking for the lack of silence.

When the Karasuno volleyball team managed to get all their bags inside their rooms you sighed happily, now free of work. 

“You should go rest, a lot of the games start tomorrow and you don’t want to miss them.” Kuroo had popped up, startling you slightly.

You turned to face his hunched figure head-on. “I’m mostly planning on watching tennis and soccer games. My friends are playing.”

“Well, using that criteria you should be planning to watch our games too.” Kenma had somehow managed to get away from Shoyo and sneak up behind you. He looked a bit drained but not much more than he normally would.

“Huh?” you sniffed again.

Kuroo smiled cheekily and leaned a bit further down, making it easier to see both of his eyes through the hanging black strands.

“Well, you should come to see us play. Don’t you think, mate?”

Despite being the person that controls posting these, I don’t tpically have things to say.... oops - Bacon 

Posted: 03/07/2020

[crimziedrawings]

Hi!! I loved your last Thomastair drabble, I mean it was so so good, loved also how you included how Barbara’s death affected Thomas. And I wanted to suggest if you still are accepting prompts how would you feel doing one with “You need to stop doing stupid shit or you’ll get yourself killed!” with Will and Cecily? I really loved their sibling dynamic in Clockwork Princess and there is hardly any content of them and I think that prompt could fit in their relation. Thank so much !

I love this idea!

Prompt 2, “You need to stop doing stupid shit or you’ll get yourself killed!” – Will and Cecily

~~~

The silence that fell upon the pair nearly drove Will mad. He glanced at Cecily, catching the look of rage on her before swiftly looking away. He heard her sigh and his heart was heavy. Yet, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Why?”

Will kept his gaze on the road ahead of them.

“Answer me,”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out as much as he could in her little VW.

“Will,” Cecily seethed.

Will continued to ignore her. He was not ready for this conversation.

“Answer me, damn it!”

“Just drive,” Will hissed.

Cecily pulled over sharply and slammed on the brakes. She barely gave Will time to recover before she turned on him. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s none of your concern,”

“Bullshit!” Cecily yelled. “This is the fourth time I’ve picked you up from the police. I don’t know how you keep getting so damn lucky that I’m the one answering the phone and not mam and dad.”

“You’re so dramatic, Cece,” Will said, rolling his eyes. Secretly, he knew she was right. He was beyond grateful that their parents hadn’t been the ones to find out about him getting arrested yet again, but he was still left with a sick feeling every time he saw Cecily waiting for him outside of the police department. He should be an example for her, his little sister. The girl who used to crawl into his bed whenever thunderstorms became too rough. The girl who would race him to the front seat in a car ride, always losing but still fighting with every effort she had. The girl who, even though she annoyed the hell out of him so very easily, was like his best friend. Now, he could barely look her in the eye.

“Dramatic?” she screeched, causing Will to wince. “You were arrested for possession of illegal substances! Before, it was because you broke into someone’s house. Not to mention the time you got caught drinking, underage, and when you trashed Mr. Lightwood’s house!”

He did not know what to say. He was immensely ashamed. He did not regret his actions, only hated the fact that Cecily knew of what he did.

“Will, please,” Cecily begged. “You need to stop doing stupid shit or you’ll get yourself killed!”

“It’s not what you think,” Will said.

“Then please, tell me what it is. Because I am tired of seeing this stranger in my brother’s place,”

Will looked away, contemplating whether he should tell Cecily the truth. Only, it wasn’t his truth to tell. “I don’t know if I can tell you,”

“You can, Will! You can trust me,” Cecily said. “It’s me. Unlike you, I have not changed.”

“It’s not that simple,” Will murmured, struggling to think of an excuse. He was sick of seeing the way she looked at him, seeing the absolute disgust and disappointment written all over her face. “I have a friend…”

Cecily waited and Will took that silence as a chance to continue.

“I have a friend who is ill. A bad man destroyed his entire world and left him sick. Now, he has to take a certain type of… medicine, or he will get worse a lot faster. And my friend, he is a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this. But obviously the universe or the heavens or whatever the hell is out there doesn’t give a shit,” Will spat. “The drugs I had, they weren’t for me. They were for him. Everything has been for him. His body is now addicted to this drug, it is craving it, and he needs to have it or his body will give up on him. But recently, he’s stopped taking it. I had thought it was because prices were jacking up and it was too expensive. That’s why I broke into someone’s house and was drinking in that alley. It wasn’t me who decided to do that. There are these people, this gang, that has this drug. And it’s not like I have the money for it either so they only way I could get it, to save Je- my friend, is to join them.”

Cecily gasped, her hand reaching to cover her mouth. “Will, you didn’t…”

“We broke into one of the member’s ex’s house to steal some stupid little cat because the guy was too petty to let her keep it. And another time, they were partying, celebrating a successful new deal with another gang, and expected me to act like them, to be like them. I couldn’t risk jeopardizing the whole scheme so I went with it. And tonight, I finally got a deal from a new batch, a good amount, and I left them ,” Will said. He turned, hitting the dashboard. “Then the fucking cops showed up.”

Cecily was quiet for a while before asking, “And the Lightwoods?”

Despite the serious tone, Will smirked. “Lightworm just pissed me off that day,”

Cecily rolled her eyes, yet a smile found its way to her lips. “Who is this friend of yours?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s not my decision for you to know his story,”

“The only thing that matters now is that you’re done, right? No more phone calls from the London Police Department telling me that you’ve been arrested and begging me to come pick up your annoying ass?”

“They said that?”

“No, but I could sense the underlying pleads,”

“Oh, whatever,” Will laughed. “I’ll have you know, I was a delightful criminal. I had so many compliments on my hair, and everyone wanted to know where I got my sweet kicks. Of course, that also included the other people locked up and they weren’t so patient of my being. But that’s the curse of being so damn beautiful and awesome.”

Cecily turned back to the steering wheel and drove back into the road. “You’re a curse, alright. And next time Gabriel pisses you off, you need to take your frustrations out in a different way, not by TP-ing his house,”

“I also egged it,”

“Of course you did,”

Will smiled back his sister, feeling like a weight has been lifted off him.

~~~

Prompt list

What ship should I do next? I am accepting idea from TSC, TOG, and ACOTAR series.

[in-tua-deep]

While genetically the Boy and Five are the same there has to be an aspect of nature vs nurture. So how do the two differ? Does the Boy want his own name and not simply a gender or does he want a name to symbolize becoming part of a family? Do the two of them react to situations differently? I love this AU so much and I need more!

(for more commission boy au/clone five au check out the previous posts on it one, two, three, four, five)

oh absolutely they’re as different as they are similar - even identical twins raised together are different people, after all! And that’s identical genes (like Five and Boy share) and similar upbringings ;3c

they’re both traumatized in very different ways (with overlapping similarities, like both of them don’t trust strangers/adults they don’t know as they’re both used to adults only wanting to use them/cause them pain)

Five is fucked up about the apocalypse. Fucked. Up. He still has minor meltdowns over what if the apocalypse happens today despite them having stopped it. Probability maps are scrawled across the walls in whatever was closest at hand when Five’s brain went into meltdown mode

The Boy doesn’t use math as a crutch like Five does (or as a way of keeping his mind busy, or as a self soothing habit, or anything else) because he wasn’t allowed to write on,, pretty much anything. He had to give verbal reports. After Five’s whole “hide my equations and plans from the commission by writing them in secret in a book” thing, they didn’t trust the Boy with any kind of planning materials. The only reason he knows how to write is because he pretty much taught himself, tracing letters with his fingers in the dust or on steam covered mirrors tbh

(his handwriting is. atrocious. borderline illegible. he really struggles writing with a pen or pencil but can fingerpaint letters/numbers just find. it’s a work in progress and on god five is going to get his little clone as fast as five himself is at writing shit on walls)

the Boy is still a little math prodigy but he’s only done enormous mental equations, which he is very good at!! but it’s definitely limited him (so he wasn’t capable of doing the complex time equations that Five figured out)

The Boy and Five present their nerves about new situations very differently - the Boy goes small and quiet and anxious whereas Five deals with it by going on the aggressive and yelling. This is because the Boy is way more afraid of punishment/rejection than Five is and is more unsure of his position in the family and his default is “obey, do what they say regardless of how you feel just power through it or face the consequences”. 

Meanwhile Five’s default was ‘rebel, yell, bring attention to himself because if the spotlight was on him then it was off his siblings’ which is depressing in its own way. The Boy didn’t have siblings to protect, he was alone. Five himself probably wouldn’t have drawn attention to himself if there wasn’t anyone to protect, but there was and he did. He bristles like an offended cat and yells

(but tbh, Five doesn’t actually expect anyone to actually listen to him. both him and the boy learned a long, long time ago that their opinions didn’t matter to the adults, that they might as well not be saying anything at all. The Boy went quiet. Five got louder.)

The Boy is definitely more willing to embrace childish things than Five is, because Five feels he has to protect his reputation and prove that he isn’t a kid 

and if there’s some residual trauma there of children vs. adults where Five is fairly convinced that status as an adult offers him some measure of protection against people like Reginald and the Handler, there’s always that. But Five is also probably more willing to be one of “the children” if that means the Boy isn’t alone as the only child because Five’s “protect” instincts overpower his “self preservation” instincts tbh

the Boy is really enthusiastic about things when he thinks he allowed to be (so basically when he’s around Five bc he sees Five as an ally - though he’s getting better around the other siblings without five as a buffer)

his favorite movie is lilo and stitch no you can’t change my mind. it’s the movie he plays constantly as a comfort thing that he never gets tried of. If this was in the era of VHS he would have worn out the tape. Why??? because the boy points at the screen and is like “!! i’m an experiment as well!” and then watches this little blue alien find a family for himself and he’s like “it me!”

…does that make Five the Lilo in this?? possibly. Allison says that it’s more like the Boy is Lilo and Five is Stitch considering Five is the chaos gremlin between the two of them but whatever

(“This is my family. I found it, all by myself. It’s little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.”)

I keep wanting to say the Boy is more skittish than Five but that’s?? not quite true? they’re both skittish and don’t trust easily and cling to the idea of family but in different ways idk like the end goal is the same but they take very different paths to it u know what i mean?

i think the Boy probably does eventually get a different name. Maybe not a name-name since the Boy’s idea of what a name is?? is kind of skewed? like his fav character is Stitch and his brother is Five and he was raised by someone names the Handler like this kid was never gonna have a normal name let’s be real

honestly he probably ends up stuck with something like. Kiddo. Because i HIGHLY doubt the family actually calls him ‘boy’ and in absence of an actual name to call him by end up with nicknames and to differentiate him from Five “Old Man” Hargreeves they probably call him kid and kiddo

i’m thinking about differences and similarities between them again hmm

Five is definitely more assertive?? Five can read the Boy really well (and vice versa) and tends to act as the Boy’s spokesperson when the Boy isn’t comfortable or something. Usually it’s just Five cutting in abruptly like “back off idiot he wants a ham and cheese sandwich not whatever the fuck that is”

the Boy is more likely to approach an issue with violence whereas Five tends to swear and yell and threaten as a first step. Where’s that one meme?? the Boy is “stabs without warning” and Five is “warns (loudly) before stabbing” 

the Boy is arguably more deadly than Five since he’s been trained in assassination since basically infancy where Five was taught to be a hero which are arguably very different skillsets (the Boy was never taught about minimizing casualties or saving anyone rip) BUT Five is more experienced and has arguably more creativity than the Boy. 

Five is a lot more playful in his fighting because he was because when he was little, fighting was playing. That’s how Five and the other umbrella academy kids bonded - by beating the tar out of one another and outdoing each other. They showed off for each other. The Boy is more straight forward because to him, fighting is a job to get over with as soon as possible

ironically it’s five who has to teach the boy to play, and not the other way around. Jump Tag is a favorite between the two where they just zoom through the house trying to catch each other - Five is a lot better at jumping than the Boy since the Boy wasn’t permitted outside of missions and training, but he’s catching up quick (after all, Five did take a brief 45 year hiatus because his powers burned too many calories in the apocalypse, but it’s a bit like riding a bike in that he never forgot)

even so Five is NOT the person to teach others to play because his childhood was messed up as all fuck

so it’s probably claire that really teaches them how to play

Claire is a well adjusted kid whose confidence, unlike Five’s, is not faked. She has adults she knows, loves, and relies upon. She has healthy relationships with peers. She goes to public school and knows and is friendly with a lot of different people. 

So this like, 8-year-old walks in and meets her two skittish emotionally immature uncles (cousin? depends on if they consider the boy to be five’s brother or son) who don’t know fuck all about anything and is like “ah yes. i am your big sister now. i am in charge here.”

and while Five at least rails against the “big sister” charge, neither of them really protest Claire taking charge?? they’re both very willing to follow along behind her tbh neither of them are leadership material and they both know it. they’re probably both very protective of her

if claire is ever bullied god help whoever chose to pick on her bc Five is absolutely willing to maul a middleschooler and the Boy would be right behind him

well i mean. Five is a follower but he’s a little bitch about it, you know? like he’s willing to go with whatever but also if it’s a dumb idea then fuck you. So he’s confrontational with his siblings but if they were ever like “okay then five you take charge” he would be like “oh no. nuh uh. i’m not taking responsibility over all you idiots my blood pressure would go through the ROOF.”

Five loudly declares that Claire is way more sensible and sane than any of the rest of his family so she’s the only one he’ll take real orders from.

(and then Grace walks in and Five will absolutely listen to her as well and not just because the Boy is lowkey scared of Grace and Five is trying to set a good example - as much as he’s capable of setting a good example)

i feel like i’ve talked about their different issues with food, where Five hoards, is food aggressive, and will eat everything whereas the Boy is used to bland nutrition bars and sludge with everything he needs for the day so his issues are more him not knowing what the fuck anything is, being iffy about any strong tasting foods/spices, struggling with eating outside of allotted food times/getting his own food 

there’s a whole post about their differences in nightmares/how they deal with those floating out there somewhere

their fashion sense definitely differs in their own ways? The Boy accepts anything he’s given with no questions and has no style of his own where Five tends towards what Klaus calls “hobo chic” in that he discards clothes he deems not useful to survival. You won’t catch Five in ripped jeans or tight pants that restrict mobility (though admittedly tight restrictive clothing would make the Boy uncomfortable as well but he’ll wear what he’s given with no questions)

both boys struggle with capitalism in that there’s Way Too Many Options for things that are dumb. It’s really overwhelming for them both when they’re sent to the store for like, toothpaste and have to enter an aisle with a bajillion different options for one (1) whole thing

OH the Boy doesn’t shoplift. Five frequently shoplifts because his idea of possessions are “it’s in my hand or in my claimed space/room/etc. it’s mine” regardless of the passage of money whereas the Boy’s idea of possessions is “nothing belongs to me ever” and they’re still working on both of those things

they’re both kind of wary around animals because neither are used to them or know what to expect from them. Mr. Pennycrumb is a therapy dog and no one can convince me otherwise and both boys are instantly smitten with him (but they’re still kind of iffy around like. big dogs that bark. or horses. fuck horses they’re scary motherfuckers.)

the Boy doesn’t like bugs very much after living in the very sterile Commission science rooms but Five will literally pop a wolf spider in his mouth for a snack so yEAH they both have. very different perspectives on that. The Boy is absolutely horrified and the first time he witnesses this hides behind Klaus for half a day because what the FUCK FIVE while Five is unapologetic

they protect each other and support each other and figure things out together bless

it’s secretly a very wholesome au behind the horror of the commission cloning five and training a small child to be a murder machine

[theangrypokemaniac]

Ma and Pa James's Second Biggest Fan (we plough a lonely furrow) continues to find Ma Jess's appeal mystifying, since everything about her is negative:

1. Signing up for Team Rocket suggests someone of a morally dubious character to start with, but the truth lies in the clothing, and she's in black!

Black!

It's code for her personality:

• Jessie wears white:

Pure, beautiful, innocent, sweet-natured, not really bad, dealt a severe hand in life but a fighter.

• Cassidy wears black:

EVIL!!! EVIL, EVIL, EEEEEEVUL!!! FOUL SIRENIC TEMPTRESS!!! EVIL HEARTLESS BITCH STEALING JAMES'S NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN WEEPINBELL!!!

Speaking of which:

2. She was Madame Boss's best agent.

You don't get there being kind.

To reach that standing requires hundreds of successful heists, and we aren't talking nicking gold bars. It's living things.

How many Pokémon do you imagine she stole with merciless efficiency?

How many children did she set upon, pinching every animal they had?

How many innocent lives did she ruin by depriving kids of the pets they loved, never to see them again, eaten away with the not-knowing and the false hope?

The glory of her reign ran on the fuel of blood and tears.

What fate do you envision awaited those Pokémon? It's not exchanging one master for another, it's entering slavery.

Jessie and James aren't the epitome of Team Rocket. They are minnows on the outskirts, despised and mocked by most of their fellow members. The actual group isn't particularly famous for prioritizing Pokémon welfare.

The preferable outcome is being handed out to agents to help catch other victims. Otherwise it's transformation into a war machine, forced to fight on and on to the point of exhaustion and death, no doubt tortured and tested on to boot.

What happens if they don't come up to scratch or are pushed for years until too aged and broken to be of any use? Are Team Rocket ready to pension them off to animal sanctuary?

As if. It's euthanasia or on to the streets to waste away, if not fed to the strongest first.

Ma Jess knew this and worse occurred thanks to her, yet paid it no mind, and felt not a single twinge of guilt in that time of service, then met her end trying to draw another Pokémon into imprisonment.

Some might say it was a case of what goes around, comes around. As her behaviour led to God knows how many Pokémon dying alone, leaving their loved ones to wonder and grieve, so in turn did she die alone in the snow, and Jessie had to carry on without her.

I'm not against Ma Jess, I neither feel like or dislike, but I don't understand how so many fans can happily overlook her murky past of inflicting pain, instead elevating her to a semi-divine tragic heroine, yet apparently Ma and Pa's heinous offences of not stealing and treating Pokémon well are beyond forgiveness.

3. It's the Red Ribbon Army! Save yourselves!

Jessie joined Team Rocket to follow in Ma's footsteps. James went with her. Both moved (upwardly in scale, downwardly in morals) from Sunny Town's gang of petty thief kids to a complex Mafia organisation stretching its wriggling tentacles around the world to crush the air from its lungs.

Why? Ma Jess's baleful influence led the two down that path.

Of course Jessie wants to copy Ma, how and where else can she feel close to her?

There's not even a grave to visit!

Rising in the ranks and Giovanni's favour is both to strike it rich and take her place, becoming Ma in essence. That would make her proud, which is all Jessie ever wanted.

What alternative is there? Stay with Chopper and Tyra forever, ekeing an existence pickpocketing and shoplifting, until mortality comes calling sooner than is welcome, or get loaded quickly and retire early?

James theoretically could've gone home at this point, but when it came to which angry redhead he preferred to beat him up, he chose Jessie.

He was henceforth obliged to go whenever she led, even if it meant following the ghost of her mother into the jaws of evil.

They have an excuse, but what was Ma's for getting involved?

However much they boast and revel in their wickedness, the motto proves the couple still believe themselves on a noble quest, despite everything to the contrary, and why?

Jessie isn't about to accept that Ma Jess, whom she's probably idolized as one of few people to love her and a role model of how a woman should be, was nasty or unpleasant. If she was in Team Rocket, it must be good, whatever the outer appearance.

Except Jessie and James are bad at being bad. They are not master criminals. All their plans fail, rendering them poor and starving in consequence. The inner circle of Team Rocket will always be barred to them because they lack the inner darkness it requires.

The joke is they flourish in any other occupation, whether that be Salon Rocquet, reporters, or flogging merchandise and food at the League. If employed elsewhere they'd be better off, but they have to stay because Jessie can't let go, or bear the thought she might be a disappointment to her mother's name. A different career looks unworthy by comparison.

What, so Ma and Pa have got no son because of Ma Jess? They just wanted him to be a gentleman!

If she hadn't set such a terrible example to her daughter she might have an increased quality of life, but then had she done so Ma wouldn't be dead in the first place.

4. Can't pick 'em can she?

What was it that first attracted Ma to Windy Miller? Does she go for the rustic charm, or the promise of a lifetime's supply of bread to feed the abundance of babies planned?

Don't do it, Ma! He's an alky!

Some birds are like that you see. It's the maternal instinct gone haywire. They find a local reprobate and somehow decide he's really a damaged soul crying out for love, the scapegoat of a cruel society.

He's not evil, he's just misunderstood!

This is why you get nutters wanting to marry the Yorkshire Ripper: they put his 'mischief' down to bad women mistreating his gentle heart, but they of course are devoted to his happiness. They can change him.

You don't know him like I do!

In their fantasy, under the influence of a 'proper' woman he'll transform in to a flower-picking hippie, but not too much, they still like him to be dangerously 'manly' (keeps 'em on their toes), then they can feel smugly superior and more truly female than the 'lesser' breed who failed to tame his sexy pashuns.

And if there's one thing Windy has in abundance, it's raw animal magnetism.

Stop it, Ma! You can't help those who don't want helping!

She put up with the boozing, the flour dust and his somewhat limited communication skills, but what really let him down was the company he kept.

Ever after she would insist Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub led him astray. That's firemen for yer.

Cuthbert? That name's died out.

Sure enough, some point after Ma Jess was stuffed up the spout, old Windy legged it back to Camberwick Green, like the rascal he is, and not a sweet penny piece did she receive in maintenance, the bastard.

At least Ma James got pregnant by a man who stood by her.

She wasn't married to Windy Miller!

Oh, you mean they were living over the brush? I see.

It's all in your head!

Do it my way, and we have Pa Jess. Do it yours, and we're back to a cavernous emptiness. Unless you can supply a picture of the 'real' (pffft) Pa Jess, this is the best available.

Anyway, 'Jessie Miller' just sounds right.

Coincidence? I think not.

5. She went to look for Mew dressed like this.

I could forgive it had she gone in her normal uniform, that's just whimsy, but to have made some effort emphasises that it's not enough!

Some part of her understood a mountain might be a bit parky out, but this was deemed sufficient coverage!

What happened?

She bloody died didn't she?!

6. Ma Boss points the way to doom.

Ma Jess was at least loyal to the mistress she served, but it was a wasted dedication. She squandered her life obeying a heartless virago who could cast aside apparently valued staff without a qualm, whatever thanks she owed them.

The millions Ma Jess accumulated for Madame are probably uncountable, yet she was so worthless that, when dispatched to the mountain, on her own, expected to catch a Legendary Pokémon, by herself, which many doubted even existed, and wasn't likely to come quietly, or put up with orders, but then didn't come back, Madame Boss allowed her only child to sink into poverty and the infamous 'care' of the State.

Everyone knows what goes on there. Entering a home has replaced the workhouse as the place of dread.

Jessie might have been killed or attacked and it didn't remotely concern Madame Boss, unwilling to spare a meagre fraction of her massive fortune to give the girl she made an orphan any comfort or security.

What did she matter? Her mother failed. Why reward that?

In her turn, Jessie became just as obsequious to an undeserving master, who went further than his mama and actively tried to murder her, and still she suffers to please him.

Team Rocket devoured her mother, and now it's swallowed her.

Oh, and Madame Boss got her way upon discovering Mew's fossil, so Ma Jess died for nothing.

7. This.

I'm not surprised Mew wouldn't go with Ma. She probably sensed the vivisection awaiting, and didn't give a toss about the avalanche in revenge.

Mew hasn't got where she is today falling for any old shallow promises from a stranger, thank you.

Suppose the mission had worked, with Mew caught and gift wrapped for Madame's delectation: what then?

Perhaps Mew's power, proving so impressive, would've pushed any cloning scheme aside, leaving Mewtwo unborn and Mew as the mightiest weapon. Or in greed Madame Boss demands more, and in arrogance the scientists promise the earth, the seas and the heavens.

Mew I could see subjected to some non-lethal form of dissection, just to understand how she ticked, that is if they could build the cage to hold her.

As they couldn't, and catching Mew was never a possibility, then Ma Jess's sacrificed herself on a fool's errand, which was obviously one from the outset. If Mew was easy to handle she'd have been captured long before now.

Either Ma dies, Mew's safe, but Madame Boss starts the cloning scheme anyway, or Ma's victorious, Mew is a tool of Team Rocket and the scientists have more sample to experiment upon. Mewtwo is still made, alongside short-lived creations and dozens of unseen freakish abominations preceding.

Now Mewtwo isn't what you call at peace with himself, nor has he received a particularly wholesome experience. One could think Ma indirectly caused that. Her branch of the project may have fizzled to cinders but she still played her role.

What would her legacy have been but to help bring forth the being that wiped out mankind? Where's the future for Jessie when there isn't one?

It's not her fault, but she died in the name of cloning a biological disaster, the creation of synthetic life leading to the destruction of it all.

8. Let's have a gander at Ma in the anime:

• Can afford rent.

• Can afford a tray.

• Can afford crockery.

• Can afford condiments to add flavour to food.

• Can't afford any actual food.

Something's wrong there.

I intended to include affording clothes too, but now I'm not so sure.

I never took Ma to be a brown-all-over kind of woman. At least she gave the fancy stuff to Jessie.

For years I've assumed she wore a brightly coloured jacket, but now I suspect it's a red one heavily patched up, because buying a replacement isn't an option.

Really old clothes are being mended with whatever can be salvaged from even more worn-out clobber.

Best agent Madame Boss has and she's practically living in her own filth.

Team Rocket takes care of its own, eh?

Oh no, let's not get a proper job, one that allows me to provide for my daughter and doesn't ask for my life. Let's stay in this one!

9. Look at Jessie's face!

By her own admission, being tricked into eating snow is the best thing that ever happened to her during an 'otherwise wretched childhood', to the extent she doesn't know it was wrong!

I don't hear Ma and Pa doing that. The only ice James got was an ice-cream sandwich.

What kind of infancy did Ma Jess give the girl for her to be nostalgic about almost dying of malnutrition?

If we say that's a foster mother as in the sub, it means Jessie's fondest memory is after Ma died, which is too brutal for me.

Yeah, thank goodness she's snuffed it.

You think Ma might have taught her not to eat snow! She left her so ill-prepared!

Consequently the sub version makes Ma Jess an awful creature, although I don't see why that Jessie would so desire to mimic a mom she apparently doesn't care about.

10. She's not even bloody here!

I have no picture to signify absence, therefore I must show whom she left behind.

Ma Jess is Pokémon's answer to Bobba Fett: background figure, barely involved, no information, dies early, yet became a fan favourite nevertheless.

If nothing really exists, what is there to like? Why are you contented weaving smoke?

When Rocketshippers put forward the manga as proof, the Anti-Ships used to insist that it 'didn't count' for being set in a 'separate universe'.

If that still goes, and only the contents of the anime apply to the anime, well then it's bye-bye to Ma Jess and Madame Boss, because they aren't real either.

I sometimes think that's true. However traumatic, would Jessie not have acknowledged her mother by now otherwise?

We grasp the characters all had two parents in a nebulous fashion, although not being real people means they don't 'technically' need them, but Ma Jess is the only one who vanished to be granted a face. Why is she then ignored?

She's briefly glimpsed in a passing scene of a single episode of the first series and is never seen or referenced again. The sub doesn't even have that. Where was the use in creating her if only to leave that thread of the tale billowing in the breeze?

We may decide her actions affect Jessie's but we're only imprinting assumptions. She might as well have remained unwritten for all that's made of her.

What we can glean doesn't bode well, irrespective of things left unmentioned.

Her one redeeming deed was dying, thus at least she didn't choose to abandon Jessie. We may presume she'd have stayed with her girl given the chance.

By my reckoning that puts her as Fifth-Best Mother Of Pokémon, behind Ma Brock, Ma James, Dame Ketchum and Ma Boss, in that order.

Then they're those who claim she never died, so she just pissed off like everyone else, rendering her devoid of a single positive quality.

This is the woman you sigh and agonise over for decades.

Ma and Pa are right there, man! Show 'em some love!