#so then in the future when you are taking big life choices that oppose political views what then?? idk it’s just very tied to someone’s

[mazojo]

I am like 20 minutes into Purple Hearts and I am trying to understand so hard how what anything that Luke or his friend say is like, normal and not like, idk, bigotry?

[jimlingss]

The Art of Benefits

➜ Words: 9.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, FWB!AU

➜ Summary: There's only one aspect of your life that's missing: sex. But you know yourself. You catch feelings as quickly as you catch colds. But when your friend arranges a meeting with a certain Park Jimin, you'll become inclined to learn the craft of detachment, aka. the art of benefits.

➜ Warning: sex, sexual discussions, toys, sucking dick, period sex, etc.

cr.

[2nd Year Fall Semester]   Life as a sophomore wasn’t shabby.   Assignments, papers and midterms came and went with decent grades that you eventually forgot about. Lectures, club meetings, and studying took most of your time too. But Christmas was arriving and that meant it was sweater weather. It also meant that snow was dusting from the sky and you were watching couples cozying up and keeping each other warm from across the dining center.   It was unfair really. You were cold too. In fact, most of the time you happen to be cold. And while relationships were too much of a time commitment for you to take on, you deserved a cuddle buddy just as much as the next person. Or a fuck buddy. Either works really.   You’ve never been opposed to a friends with benefits relationship.    The only problem is, it would never work for you.   But if you somehow learnt to detach your emotions, it could be the most efficient thing yet. After all, good sex with another warm body was the only aspect in your life that you were missing.   “I mean it’s possible. A lot of people start friends with benefits relationships on campus,” Wendy says as she stuffs her face with her sub sandwich and muses mid-chew, “There’s actually a lot of candidates to choose from.”   You’re exasperated at her nonchalance. As if it’s as easy as going to the supermarket and picking someone up. “Who?!”    You need someone who would be on the same page as you, with the same priorities, a good sex partner who wouldn’t catch feelings either. But frankly, you don’t know that many people.    “Well, what about that guy from your class that you were crushing on? Didn’t you say he was super smart? Might help you on your assignments too.”   “Namjoon?” You shake your head. “He’s got a girlfriend.”   “Okay. What about that older guy in your board games club?”   “No. Seokjin’s graduating next semester.”   Wendy hums, eyes flickering around the dining hall center as she contemplates. “How about Yoongi? From what you’ve told me, he seems pretty cool.”   You loll your head to one side and stab your sweet and sour chicken. “I’m not going to sleep with someone from work. That sounds like a disaster waiting.”   “Jungkook?”   “That’s weird. We went to the same elementary school together.” You can still remember his bowl cut hair as clear as day, and not to mention, the two of you share a group of friends. If things go downhill, it would be a complete mess. The epitome of inefficiency. Which is counterproductive to your goal.   “Taehyung?” At this point, Wendy’s just listing out random people that you know, but you play along just for amusement.   “Nah. Yena has a crush on him.”   She takes another clean bite of her sandwich. “What about that guy that works at that McDonalds that you find cute. What’s his name? Hugo? Howard?”   “Hoseok,” you correct with a feigned glare that makes her smile. “And that’s a big fat no. He doesn’t even know I exist. What am I supposed to do? Waltz up to him and ask to be fuck buddies?”   She grins. “Well, I mean—”   “It wouldn’t work,” you deadpan before she laughs and in turn, makes you giggle too.   The chatter of the room settles in your ears as background noise. You gaze out the window to the sparkling snow piles that reflect the lampposts soft, white light. The sun has long fallen even though it’s only six p.m. The low lights peeking through the somber clouds covering the horizon does little. You dread the thought of having to venture out into the cold and catch the bus home.   You don’t notice how Wendy’s looking at you while she sips on her water. Not until she hums. “You know what? I know someone I could hook you up with.”   Your brow cocks and the corner of your mouth twitches. “Is he a fuckboy?”   Your long time friend shrugs with a glint in her eyes that makes you unsure if she’s serious or not. Wendy once joked that she had a boyfriend from Northern Canada and convinced you hard enough that you legitimately believed her for a good month. So you can never be quite certain when it comes to her. For all you know, she could just be making it up to entertain you.   “Sort of, but he’s a nice one.” Wendy stays vague. “He was my lab partner.”   You stare at her and when her expression remains blank, you scoff. “Sure, sure,” you draw out the syllables with a small laugh and bat the air with your hand just to end the conversation.   And when it’s never discussed again, Wendy moving on to tell you a story about something she suddenly remembers, you’d one day come to realize that was a terrible, terrible mistake.   //   That one day is now.   3:50pm. Wendy: hey i set up a meeting what that guy 3:50pm. Wendy: third floor library  3:50pm. Wendy: he’s in a red hat btw   The text comes right when you’re leaving your last lecture of the day.   3:51pm. Y/N: what guy   3:53pm. Wendy: your future fwb   3:53pm. Y/N: ?????????????????????????????????/ 3:53pm. Y/N: ???????????????? 3:54pm. Y/N: wtf i wasn’t SERIOUS   3:54pm. Wendy: wat   3:54pm. Y/N: I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING   3:56pm. Wendy: lmao too late 3:56pm. Wendy: at least meet him he’s waiting sis   3:54pm. Y/N: can’t you cancel?????????   3:57pm. Wendy: n a h   You nearly burst an artery in your temple at the emojis and memes she spams to you.   3:59pm. Wendy: I already told him the gist btw 4:00pm. Wendy: don’t chicken out   With no other choice, you make a u-turn and head towards the library with too many thoughts swirling inside your brain. Chances are this stranger is going to see you, think you’re ugly as shit and try to back out of it. It’s going to be awkward as all hell and you’re not sure you’re ready to have this traumatizing memory for the rest of your life.   Then again, you wonder how Wendy even convinced this dude to meet up. If he’s really that easy going. If this is a typical thing people do now. Or maybe Wendy showed a picture of you on your insta and he agreed afterwards — it wouldn’t be the first time she did that, much to your embarrassment. But you hope it’s the latter case. At least that eliminates the possibility of him trying to backpedal his way out of it after seeing your face.   You also wonder how the hell you’re going to find him. The library is full of students, the rowdy ones and the studious ones being disturbed by them. You wonder what he looks like, what he’ll be like. Third floor. Male. Red hat.   You arrive at the appropriate floor and begin scanning the premise, walking around as your eyes sweep the area. Almost immediately you catch a brunette hunched over and on his phone by the table. He’s wearing a red cap on backwards, purple tee shirt. He has a frat boy aesthetic.   Not really the type you go for.   Looking over him, you round the computers, bookshelves and tables. But finding no one else with a red hat on the third floor, you sharply inhale and approach the boy with his fluffy cheek rested in his hand, arm propped up on the table lazily. Scrolling through his phone.   “Excuse me.”    Your voice is light and hesitant as if you were asking help from someone at the front desk and not seeing if this was a potential fuck buddy. It’s mortifying to say the least.   His head lifts, brown eyes catching the lights.   You clear your throat. “Wendy…”   “Oh. You’re her, right?” He smiles and thankfully, doesn’t seem to be disappointed. “Wendy’s friend?”   “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”   “Jimin.”   Now that you get a closer look, he’s kind of cute. But you don’t dwell. Or look him in the eye.   It feels like a job interview. But worse. “You were Wendy’s lab partner?”   “That’s me.” He pockets his phone. “I’m a kines major. You?”   “I’m in the arts faculty. Political science.”   “Cool, cool.” Jimin nods and then gets to business without any shame, “So Wendy already told me about it. You’re looking to have a friends with benefits relationship?”   “Yeah….about that….”   “I’m down if you are.” His hand opens up, gesturing to you. You’re not sure how you feel about how laid-back he is, but he remains upfront which you suppose is the right thing to do. “I have a dorm room in the Sierra building by the engineering faculty building if you know where that is.”   “I’ve walked past it before.”   “Cool. Anyway, my last f.w.b. ended two months ago and I kind of miss it,” he quickly clarifies, “The sex, I mean.”   You’re speechless and contemplating if you really want to do this. You know if it works out, it’ll be fairly efficient. You’ve always gotten off by yourself and while it works, it’s not something you’d call completely satisfying. Having someone’s help— good help — is a change you’ve been considering. But a friends with benefits situation has always been one of those ‘what if’ scenarios. You've just never had an opportunity like this to make it actually happen.   Jimin senses your hesitance and leans forward. He lowers his volume. “Are you a virgin? Cause I’m cool with—”   You scoff. “No. I’m not. I just...haven’t done something like this before.”   “Friends with benefits?” His question is answered by your body language. “It’s not bad. Safer than one night stands and more consistent too. You don’t have to go out and find someone every time you want to have sex. And it’s a low level commitment.”   The corner of your mouth pulls and you agree. “It’s efficient. But...I need time to think about it.”   “Sure. Tell me when you make up your mind. I’ll give you my number.” He opens his hand again and you pass him your phone. He quickly types it in. “Take your time.”   //   And you do.   You weigh the pros and cons against each other, considering every possibility and all the consequences. Part of you wants to just go for it. The same part that once decided in high school at midnight that bangs would be a hot look on you. (It wasn’t). The part of you that dyed your hair blue that one summer on a whim. The part that doesn’t want to think and wants to jump head first into things. Jimin made a lot of good pointers too and you’re certain this would be a good outlet. An experience. It helps that he’s quite attractive too and seems to be trustworthy and rational.   Yet, part of you wonders if it would be a bad decision.   There’s a chance that you might catch feelings. For you, it wouldn’t be unheard of either. You have a tendency to catch feelings as fast as you catch colds. And you already know that’s the demise of these kinds of relationships. Once a party gets involved too deep, it’s game over. There’s nothing but heartbreak.   The only way it would work is if you minimize your interactions with him.   The less attached you are, the less likely you are to develop feelings for him since the only way you would like anyone is if you knew them. So the less you know, the better the outcome.    It’s an equation.    It’s the art of the benefits.   And if that works, if you master the art, it would solve every potential issue.   The dorms for sophomores are bigger than the ones for first year freshmen. Instead of a single room with two beds on either side by the walls, there are private bedrooms with just a shared bathroom, a main living space and kitchen.    “Bathrooms are over here,” Jimin gestures. There’s one room at the end of the hall and another one beside his. “Both my roommates are out, so you don’t have to worry. They’re pretty nice.”   You feel awkward lingering at the entryway with your backpack on.   You clear your throat. “Can I get a drink?”   “Oh yeah. There’s new water bottles by the sink, I think, and there’s orange juice in the fridge if you’d like.”   “No, I mean, do you have anything alcoholic?” you correct and he blinks at you owlishly before smiling. You drop your bag and find it in the fridge, a whole vodka bottle. You fill a shot up with a glass on the drying rack. The clear liquid burns as it travels to the back of your throat. The bitter taste nearly makes you gag, but you feel your face warm and you ease even more, knowing it works.   In the meanwhile, Jimin studies you, standing from across the kitchen island. His hands are casually dug into the pockets of his gray sweats. “We won’t have to follow through with this, you know. I’m fine either way.”   “No,” you quickly refute, irrationally afraid he’s changed his mind. And the words spill out of you as you cringe, “I’m horny as shit, I’mjustnervous.”   The guy smiles, eyes slightly crinkled when he does so. “Of what?”   “A lot of things.” You don’t pour a second shot even though you kind of want to. But you have things to do tomorrow, so you can’t nurse a hangover and you most certainly don’t want to be drunk while doing this. “If you didn’t notice, I don’t do this often.”   While you’re at it, you tell him, “I don’t know how to suck dick.”   He leans against the counter, grinning. “Okay. I don’t mind.”   “Also, if you haven’t noticed either, my ass is kind of deflated.”   Jimin shrugs. “I’m more of a boob man anyway.”    You narrow your eyes, not sure if he’s lying or trying to make you feel better.   But there’s no time to dwell when he seriously asks— “Do you still want to do this?”   It takes a second for you to muster your courage. And once you do, you know you won’t back down. “All right. Let’s do this!” You walk into his room like you’re about to go fight off a monster.   Behind you, Jimin grins and it takes a good moment for him to calm you down.   “Are you okay with kissing?” he asks, door shut and distance closed. He’s intimately close and you nod.   Finally, your brain stops overthinking and you let yourself feel. Jimin’s lips are full and plush, and they’re good against yours. The soft smacking fills his room. The two of you kiss until your lips part and he begins to lick into your mouth, tongue entering without much hesitation.   You fall back onto the mattress, noticing that the bed’s been made sloppily, but better than your own. The pair of you keep kissing and he hovers over you, capturing you against the sheets. Pathetically enough, you already begin to feel your center throbbing and it’s a relief when you both get rid of your clothes.   He doesn’t talk much — doesn’t give much commentary or even dirty talk. But you don’t mind. All you’re offering after all is soft sighs and quiet moans.   Jimin squeezes your breasts and fingers you for a good minute. He’s surprised to see how wet you are, even letting out an ‘oh shit’, but you make no efforts to come up with an excuse. The stretch feels good from his thick fingers, but you bet it’ll feel good around his girthy cock too.   He goes to grab a condom from his drawer, but pauses.   “Do...you want me to eat you out?”   “I’m good,” you politely decline, afraid it might be too intimate. You’re not sure where the lines are drawn, but it’s something you’ll have to gauge while you go. “Do you want me to suck your dick? You might have to teach me though.”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “I’m good too.”   As Jimin rips open the condom package, you turn yourself around and get onto all fours. He doesn’t protest and when he enters you, it feels good enough for you to fall forward into the pillows. His cock is of average size, but he’s girthy and your cunt stretches to accommodate him.   He groans in his throat when you clench — and the sound gets you off, making you squeeze again. Jimin pounds into you, his pelvis hitting the meat of your ass, cock drawing in and out against your tight, warm walls. You do your best to meet his thrusts halfway, jerking your hips back and you stifle your moans with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sloppy sounds of slapping and the creaking of his bed makes you glad his roommates are gone. And while the sex is not mind-blowing per se, it’s still good. Enough that you climax once he rubs your clit several times and he unloads into the condom too.   It’s easier than you thought it would be. Not a big deal whatsoever. It took ten minutes in total and it felt good.   It’s just sex — and that’s exactly it. Just sex. The very lesson of the art of benefits.   You pick up your clothes off the floor, slipping them back on. “I gotta get going.”   There’s no snuggling, no cuddling, no pillow talks. And it doesn’t seem like he minds whatsoever.   “‘Kay.” Jimin picks up his phone off his bedside table to check his texts and waves goodbye without even looking at you.   You leave, walking yourself out and humming as you stride down the hall.    You’re glad you went through with it.

[2nd Year Winter Semester]   You run there with your sandwich stuffed in your cheek.   By the time Jimin opens the door, you’re still chewing while panting. It’s a comical sight by the way he smiles at you. You’re already winded before anything’s started. “I hadn’t eaten yet and I needed to get my blood sugar up.”   Jimin’s lips are quirked. “We can always eat beforehand, you know. There’s food in the fridge.”   “Nah, I’m good.” Having meals with your friends with benefits is the last thing on your mind.   He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”   You use his bathroom, releasing your bladder and rinsing your mouth thoroughly. You know yourself and you’re not a novice on how these relationships work. The less interaction and knowledge you have about him, the more you can keep your distance.   “G-God,” he exhales shakingly, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re getting b-better at this….”   Jimin watches through heavy lids as you’re slobbering over his cock. He tries his best to watch, but when you run your tongue over the weeping slit at the bulborous head, his eyes shut and his head naturally knocks back. You’ve gotten better at a lot of things in the few months that have passed, namely sucking dick, but your jaw aches and you wonder when he’s going to cum.   It’s worth it though. You might be the one kneeling in front of him, but you feel powerful. It’s too easy to make him crumble. To make him moan like that. It makes you wet to hear him and knowing you could bite off his dick or make him lose a load, the sheer power eggs you on.   Like you were taught, you inhale, ease your muscles and take Jimin as far as you can.   He chokes as his cock hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflexes threaten your endeavour but you keep them at bay and Jimin’s hand in your hair tightens. Especially when you swallow.   “Fuck. I-I’m going to cum.”   Thank god. Finally!   Usually, you let off so he can cum elsewhere (god forbid in your hair) or if he accidentally does it in your mouth, you spit it out on tissue. But this time, you made a commitment to yourself. You came here with a goal. So you inhale again and deep throat him, sucking as much as you can.   With his curly pubic hair grazing your nose, Jimin cums. His groans staccato. His cock twitches.   And you swallow the bitter, white fluid that comes out in ribbons.   After a few seconds, you finally withdraw. Jimin opens his eyes, staring at you in wonderment. There are strands of saliva from between his softened cock to your lips and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.   “Not gonna lie.” You clear your throat and swallow down the remaining taste. “That’s really nasty.”   Jimin bursts out laughing.   “Thanks.”    “It’s the least I can do.” You stand up, shaking your left leg awake. It feels like pins and needles when you step around. “I’ve sat on your face like twice already.”   You toss Jimin his pants off the ground and you get your cardigan back on.   “You wanna come over on Friday?”   “Uh…” You grab your phone from your jacket that’s also been discarded and check your calendar. “Sorry. Can’t. I’m busy on that day.”   His brows raise, but he doesn’t question it.   “How about Saturday?” you offer.   “No. I have a kines exam scheduled.”   Your face twists in disgust. “On a Saturday?”   “Yep. I know. It sucks.”   You sympathize, but you’re also surprised. “I didn’t know you were a kines major.”   “What? I thought I told you.”   “Guess I forgot.” You put yourself back together and a thought strikes you. Your eyes light up and you turn to your friend with glittering eyes. “Does that mean you can crack bones? I’ve always wanted to go to a chiropractor since my lower back always hurts. You should crack it for me.”   Jimin grins. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do that. They don’t really teach you that kind of stuff.”   “Oh.” Your eyes dim and you don’t try to hide your disappointment. You almost thought you could get a little more out of him, but you suppose decent sex is enough.    As you grab your bag, you notice that his phone lights up. “You got a text from Victoria.”   “Thanks.” He reaches over, but the curious expression on your face must be visible, since he says, “Don’t worry. She’s not my girlfriend or anything. She’s just someone I’m kind of into.”   “Nice!”   The corner of Jimin’s mouth quirks at your genuinely excited response even though he never looks away from the screen. You’re psyched though. If he has an interest in someone else, there’s less chance for anyone to catch feelings. Fewer connections. More distance.   “If you ever want to end this, just let me know.” You throw your backpack on that’s heavy with your laptop and textbooks inside.   “Yeah.”   “I’m going now.”   “Bye.” Jimin’s fingers fly across the screen to text the other girl back and neither of you spare each other a glance. The door shuts moments later and the noise echoes through the walls.

[3rd Year Fall Semester]   In spite of being a junior now, things have relatively remained the same.   According to course outlines, lectures are more in-depth in their content, but there’s still assignments, papers, and midterms. The grading schemes haven’t changed and you know there’s a shit ton of work waiting for you in the coming months. But you find pleasure wherever you can.   The door opens, but it’s not Jimin on the other side.   “Hey, Y/N.” Taemin, his roommate, is eating chips. “He’s in his room.”   “Thanks.”   You shuffle inside and after briefly greeting Jongin, the other roommate, who’s busy playing Animal Crossing on the living room couch, you beeline to his room. You find Jimin hunched over his messy desk, rounded spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he’s tapping furiously across his laptop keyboard.   He glances at you. “Sorry. I need a second.”   “Take your time.”    You set down your bag and shed your coat, tossing it aside. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but you don’t ask. Instead, you pull out your phone and run through your usual apps. With no messages to answer or anything to scroll through, you check your email and find the words ‘emergency’ in one of the subject lines.   After a minute, Jimin saves his document and closes the lid of his laptop. He stretches above his head with a groan and turns around, only to find you now hunched over your own device.   “Sorry,” you mutter once you feel his gaze on you. “My manager needs me to fill out my timesheet and send it to her.”   “I didn’t know you worked.”   “Just part-time at the admissions office here on campus.” You go quiet as you skim over your email again to ensure it makes sense. “It’s a pretty easy gig.”   He hums and you finish, shutting your laptop and sticking it back into your bag. That’s when you finally get a good look at the boy across the room — dark hair, blue shirt and gray sweats — and you notice how tan he’s gotten. It’s a good look.    Your mouth tugs. “Did you travel over the summer?”   “I went to the Caribbean with my family for like two weeks.”   “Fancy.”   “It was alright.” He gets up and re-stacks the textbooks on his desk into a single pile. Jimin notices the stack of flyers he was supposed to distribute. “Oh yeah. Do you want to join the crayon club?”   Your brow lifts. “The crayon club?”   “Yeah, you can come colour every Wednesday night and just hang out with people.” Jimin grins boyishly. “My friend wanted to make a club and he made me the communications executive. I’m supposed to get people to join. You don’t have to, but the first meet and greet is this Friday, and the more people the better. There’s gonna be free food by the way, if that helps.”   You’re not sure that's a good idea.   The two of you have never really met up outside of his dormitory, aside from the first time you met at the library.   “Let me check my calendar.” You grab your phone again and thoughtlessly mumble, “Sometimes I’m busy on Friday. I’m part of the board games club and we meet up every other week…..don’t judge.”   “I’m not.”    Still, Jimin's smile widens and you feign a pout.    You’re free this week.   “I’ll come if you make me an executive too,” you quip carelessly while tossing your phone aside. “It’ll look good on my law application.”   Jimin quirks his head. He didn’t know you were aiming for law school. “Okay.”   “Wait.” You’re taken off guard, eyes as wide as saucers. “Seriously?!”   He with a small laugh. Jimin gets up and closes the distance, making you lean against the headboard until he’s completely hovering over you, mere inches away. “We actually need a position filled anyway, so you just saved me some trouble.”   “You better keep your promise, Park.”   You end up showing with Wendy and Tiffany in tow — the former who wants to raid whatever food there is and the latter genuinely interested in colouring as a means of relaxation. It’s a bit awkward to meet so many new people at once and Jimin’s friends at that, but you can tell they’re nice at heart. Albeit, a bit rambunctious and too friendly. And you’re a bit horrified when one of them tries to eat a crayon to further advertise the club.   “So, what’s up with you and Jimin?” Tiffany asks, peering up at you as she colours in the lines carefully. She’s unaware of your arrangement with the boy. It’s not something you’ve told many.   You feign ignorance, not wanting to get into the details with strangers around. “What do you mean?”   “Are you dating him?”   You scoff. “I wish.”   Immediately, Wendy’s brows raise to her hairline and the words that fumbled out of you thoughtlessly finally sink in. “I mean, no, we’re not. Not I wish.”   Luckily, Tiffany spares you and doesn’t pry. But you’re mortified and you glance at Jimin from across the room laughing noisily with his friend. You turn away from him, trying to create more distance.

[3rd Year Winter Semester]   With exam season here, you and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in a while.   Luckily, Spring break was approaching, so you at least had something to look forward to. The idea of being able to lay in bed and sleep in automatically puts you in a good mood. Jimin, however, seems less than stoked.   You watch from the bed as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up before you’ve gotten a chance to. He was frowning when he opened the door, greeted you with one word and in general, has been quieter than usual.   “Is….everything alright?” You wonder if you did something to piss him off, but then he says—   “I flunked my final.”   Oh. That explains his bad mood.   “The one you took this morning?” you ask.   “Yeah.” Jimin deflates with an extended sigh. “I didn’t get the first twenty questions and then I fucking ran out of time….”   There’s a pause that lingers.   “Well, you’re not sure if you actually failed, right?” You lean closer to him, quirking your head to the side. “The marks haven’t been released and who knows, the prof might curve it.”   “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jimin scrubs a hand over his face, uncertain and stressed. “This ruins everything. I’m trying to get an internship at a clinical rehabilitation facility and I want to apply for a masters and now...fuck.” You’re surprised. You didn’t know he had so many goals. “I’m screwed.”   Jimin flops back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. You loom over him, blocking his view.   “Does the internship look at your GPA?”   “They want a three point o average or more.”   “What do you have now?”   “Three point five.”   The corner of your mouth pulls and a rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “Then you’ll make it! Even if you failed one exam, it wouldn’t tank past a three. It can’t be too bad, right?”   “Yeah, I guess.” Jimin sighs and absentmindedly tugs on your strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and is grazing against his cheek. “I just don’t know anymore.”   “It’s going to be fine,” you reassure, slapping your hand on his shoulder. “You’re just overthinking it.”   “Maybe,” he hums.   A sudden thought comes across your mind and your small smile turns devious. “Let me make you feel better.”   You shift to straddle his hips and instantly, his hands lift to your waist. Jimin starts to grin as you pull at his shirt, trying to get him to strip. And you do your best to pleasure him.   It doesn’t take much effort considering Jimin’s hand is already tightening in your hair the minute you run your tongue along his shaft. But he doesn’t let you suck him for too long, eager to feel you inside instead and pleasure you just the same.   It’s eager and messy sex. You’re on top until your thighs begin to burn and you lose your pace. Then he re-repositions the both of you, so you’re flat on your back and he’s doing most of the work. You end up cumming twice. Once around his covered cock and the other time after he coaxes you around his stiff tongue and eggs you on, even when you’re sobbing from the overstimulation.   It feels good. Better than good.   Over time, the pair of you have gotten to know each other’s bodies better, what works and what doesn’t.    Your relationship with Jimin is an investment that feels worth it.   “Hey…” You’re both facing away from each other as you put your clothes back on. Jimin turns his head and you cast him a glance. “I was thinking of maybe starting birth control…”   He blinks.   “If you go get yourself checked out and make sure you’re clean, we can do it without condoms.”   You pull down your sweater over your head and you both stare at each other. He looks surprised and responds in a delayed manner, “Okay. Cool. I’m down. I’ll get myself checked out this weekend. I haven’t really slept with anyone else since this started though.”   It’s your turn to be caught off guard. “Really? What...about that girl you were into? Vicky?”   “You mean Victoria?” He jumps as he puts on his sweatpants, getting both legs through at once. “Nah. It didn’t end up working out.”   “Oh.” He’s entirely nonchalant about it, so you merely nod.   Jimin walks you to the door and you notice that he’s in a better mood than earlier. You hide your smile to yourself, glad that it was mutually beneficial.   Two weeks later, he gets an email before the two of you get down and dirty, and you’re the first one in his life to know that he got the summer internship. His excitement is infectious and you genuinely feel happy for him.

[4th Year Fall Semester]   It’s so close, you can taste it.   A whole new semester and cart of overpriced textbooks later meant you were a senior now. It also meant that there was just this year left and you were out of here. Finished at least one degree. A step closer to making the big bucks and being a whole ass adult.   The idea is both exhilarating and frightening.   2:20pm. Jimin: Wanna come over?   The text mocks you, but the temptation is tangible. Like a carrot tied at the end of a stick that’s attached to a hungry rabbit. You’ve been sexually frustrated since last night, feeling it in your loins since morning, and fidgeting and rubbing your thighs underneath tables and desks. The thought of getting that sweet relief properly is enough for you to want to ditch class altogether, but you can’t. Not for the next few days.   2:22pm. Y/N: can’t. 2:22pm. Y/N: I’m on my period :((   2:23pm. Jimin: I don’t mind   2:23pm. Y/N: really???? 2:24pm. Y/N: are you sure   2:25pm. Jimin: lmao 2:25pm. Jimin: yes   You brace through the rest of the lecture, paying more attention as the anticipation swells. And when it’s all over, you race across campus to the dormitory building you’ve become familiar with.   Jimin opens the door before you need to knock and he plants a chaste kiss against your lips in greeting. You’re taken off guard, but don’t pay too much attention to it. “How was class?”   “Good. You?”   “Same,” he hums.   You drop your bag in his room and gesture below your waist. “I’m going to need to wash up. The nether regions are a bit…”   He smiles. “Sure. I got spare towels I can set down too.”   You self-consciously linger for a moment as he goes to his closet to the upper shelf. The towels are luckily green and not white. “I’m surprised you’re okay with it. Having period sex, I mean.”   “Why wouldn’t I be?” Jimin pushes his blanket aside and puts a towel down. “As long as you’re fine with it, then I am too.”   “I don’t know. Doesn’t blood gross you out?”   “Not really? Most of the time I’m the one making the mess, so it’s actually nice to have someone else make the mess for once. Plus sex is sex. What’s there to complain about?” His brow lifts and he looks at you. You scoff and it makes Jimin grin.   You wash yourself up and he fucks you in missionary position on top of the towels. The pair of you have only done so a few times before. Typically, you’re face down, bent over, on all fours or looking away from each other. But the change is welcome. Jimin hovers over you and you can kiss him when you want to.   “F-Fuck.” A pitched moan unintentionally spills from you when he hits a spot at your walls that has your toes curling. “Ji...min.”   It’s more lubricated than usual, making the strokes easier. He goes softer too. Deeper. Jimin presses your thighs to your chest and makes you feel him all the way to your throat.   The boy smiles tenderly at your reaction in spite of panting himself. “Feel good, baby?”   “Y-Yeah.” You nod, eyes shut tight. You grip his forearms when he bottoms out again. “Always does.”   Your warm walls pulse around his thick cock and you end up cumming soon after. He groans into your neck at how you tighten around him like a vice grip and he thrusts into you one more time before his cum fills you.   The pair of you jump in the shower together to get cleaned up and then you’re picking up your clothes while he tosses the towels in the laundry.   “What were you working on, on Thursday?”   You blink, realizing that you texted him vaguely about being swamped and unable to come over, and that’s enough for you to unload and go on a tangent. “God, don’t remind me. It was my fucking thesis. I barely managed to finish it but I don’t even know if it makes sense and now I have to edit like fifty pages by myself before giving it to my supervisor, so that’s fun.”   It feels good to let it off your chest.   Jimin smiles subtly at your venting. “I could always edit it for you.”   “What? Seriously?”   “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’m not in poly sci, but that might make me a bit more unbiased. I’m not doing much these days either.”   “Oh my god.” There’s an overpowering urge to bow at his feet or suck his dick until you’re gagging or do both. “You’re a life-saver!”   Jimin laughs and it’s the sound of angels singing. “Just send it over. I can get it done by tomorrow. You have my email, right?”   “Of course I do. Duh!” Your grin is big enough that your cheeks hurt and he has one that matches it as well.   //   A few weeks fly by and things calm down enough that you can finally breathe. But that’s when you receive a little text from a certain someone that has you skeptical if you can rest easy.   6:48pm. Jimin: I have a surprise for you 6:48pm. Jimin: I forgot about it   You’re not sure what it is, but asking would be like pulling teeth with him. Jimin hates spoilers and he likes surprises all too much.   Lately, you’ve both been getting into some freaky shit. Buying toys, blindfolds, handcuffs. As adventurous as college kids with a limited budget can get. It was rather fun for the pair of you, and expectedly, some experiments work out better than others. It sends goosebumps all over your skin every time he talks dirty. You like it when Jimin spanks you too. Although, you’re still unsure about the whole candle wax on your body idea.   But there’s one thing for sure — Jimin can most definitely not role play for his life.    The whole school girl fantasy lasted a good five minutes before he started bursting into giggles and breaking character every other second. Playing doctor only made you realize how ticklish he was too. And the tickle fight that followed was definitely not something one would call ‘sexy’. Even if it did lead to the deed being done.   “Hey.” Jimin greets you with a grin and a chaste peck against your lips. “How was studying?”   “Fine.” You brush off the question quickly, too curious of what he has in store. “Jimin, I’m not going to use that twelve inch dildo unless you want to drive me to the ER.”   He bursts out laughing. “That’s not it. Good try though.”   Instead of going to his room like you usually do, Jimin leads you past the kitchen area to the table. It’s been cleared off and you give an inquisitive expression. He grins and then gestures to it.    “Lay down.”   “What?”   “Just lay down.” He takes your hand, guiding you on it and you obey wordlessly. It doesn’t seem like any of his roommates are home and you hope they don’t come back any time soon lest they find you lying face down on their dinner table.   You feel Jimin round the table and pull your ankles together. You tilt yourself up to peek at him, but then he barks— “Down.”   With a pout, you return to your position, arms folded underneath your head. You hope he isn’t about to rub spices on you and roast you in his oven like it feels like he’s doing.   You feel the gentle pressure of Jimin’s hands against your spine, his thumbs pressing into your skin and he hums, “Relax. Okay. Breathe in for me.”   An inhale is taken and his hands suddenly press into the middle of your back. You hear your bones crack loudly. It catches you off guard and you turn yourself with wide eyes. “You know how to do it?!”   He boyishly grins. “I might’ve learnt a thing or two during my internship.”   “Keep going, keep going.” You flip yourself over again, gesturing to your back and he laughs, going down your body and cracking your bones. You become butter in his fingertips, lower back feeling better already.   “Lift your leg for me.”   You follow his instructions to a t. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask sleepily, lulled by his care. If he massaged you too, you might just cream your pants.   “I got this, I got this,” he reassures with a bit of arrogance. “I’m not a professional, but I know what I’m doing. You trust me, right?”   A noise is made at the back of your throat.   “If you break a bone on accident, I’ll sue you,” you mumble as he turns you over. “God, feels good.”   After a while, Jimin gets you to sit up and continues. He looks nice when he’s concentrating. Expression blank. Lips plump and in a line. Brows only slightly furrowed. “Considering you don’t have any ailments, you don’t need to get your bones cracked often. You should stretch and do some exercise instead.”   You scoff. “Having sex with you is enough exercise.”   To prove your point, you latch onto his arm and tug him towards you. Jimin smiles and the two of you break a sweat against each other on the table before either of his roommates come home.

[4th Year Winter Semester]   It was an invitation that you would’ve called yourself crazy for offering a year ago. But if it wasn’t for him editing your thesis and taking a load off your mind, you would’ve had a harder time.    You had him to thank for that.   “So?” Jimin’s seated across from you at the restaurant booth. It wasn’t surprisingly difficult to ask him to grab a bite with you. For some reason, you thought he would reject. “What’s the big news?”   Instead of answering, you reach into your bag and slide the envelope across the table.   He’s curious and takes it, pulling out the letter to read. You sip on your water, watching his expression intently. He mutters the words and it takes him through the first paragraph before he realizes. Then, at once, Jimin’s eyes widen. His mouth drops and he looks at you proudly.   “You got into law school?”   “Three of them,” you tell with a cheesy grin.    “T-That’s….fucking amazing. Holy fuck.” He reaches over and hugs you. It’s awkward considering there’s a whole table in the way, but you appreciate the sentiment. You’re giddy and giggling at how excited he is. It makes you feel like the first time you opened the letter yourself.   Jimin presses a kiss against your hair before withdrawing. “When did you find out?”   “Two days ago. I really thought I wasn’t going to get in since I got rejection letters last week from the other schools, but then three of them came in rapid succession.”   He shakes his head, still in awe. “Congratulations. Seriously. You deserve it, Y/N. God knows how hard you worked.”   “Thanks.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. “I was thinking of maybe leaving the city to a different uni, but….I’m going to stay with my parents for as long as I can to save up on loans.”   “Yeah, sounds good.” He nods. “Moving out can be expensive.”   “What about you? Have you applied to your masters program yet?”   Jimin laughs. “Actually, I was planning on telling you that today too. I didn’t bring any fancy letter with me though.”   You lean closer, sitting on the edge of your seat. “You got in?”   “I did. Yesterday.” His enormous smile causes your own to expand. “I’m gonna do it part-time while working at the same facility I did my internship at.”   You’re happy for him and you can tell by his expression that he’s genuinely excited for you too. The pair of you were taking steps forward for your future and while it was a little scary, for now, you enjoy the victory and pig out at the restaurant with little restraints.   At the end of the night, you’re both wine drunk when you stumble back to his dorm room and soon, you’re trying to muffle your whimpers with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. It doesn’t help when he presses the humming vibrator to your clit harder.   “J-Jimin,” you sob, fingers twisting into his sheets. You’re slumped against the headboard as he surrounds you.   “Louder,” he commands, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. The cold air of his bedroom made your nipples hardened, yet you feel hot all over, under his gaze and ruthlessness.    Your hand curls around his wrist. “Your roommates are sleep—” You cry and keen against his chest when he plunges the toy into your swollen cunt that’s leaking down your ass and thighs.   “It’s okay,” he murmurs in a low voice against your ear, “Let it go.”   You feel the toy nudge against your cervix, the vibrations trembling through your body and you orgasm hard with your forehead pressed against Jimin’s shoulder. Even then, he continues to draw it in and out of you, studying how you’ve creamed around the vibrator, how your slick is dripping to his sheets that are already stained with the scent of your shampoo.   “J-Jimin,” you whine loudly, not knowing if you’re trying to lean away from his touch or closer. “T-...too m-much!”   “You can take it,” Jimin softly coaxes and you nod.    You cum again after a minute and he immediately kisses you with a big smile before peppering pecks down to your neck. It makes you feel ticklish and winded.   “Hey...Jimin…”   “Hmm?”   “Are we still gonna do this after we graduate?” you ask in a quiet voice, laying back in the ruined sheets. “I’m gonna be busy and you are too.”   “We’ll figure it out.” He flops beside you and you both face each other. Jimin’s arm is draped over your waist and you stare at one another for a moment before he closes the distance.   Jimin nudges you for a languid kiss, your noses brushing as his soft, plush lips press against yours. It’s unhurried. Slow. He urges your mouth to part for him and his tongue slips in as you whimper, giving you a chance to properly taste him.   Sloppy, wet noises fill the room while heat rises to your cheeks. But you’re unbothered while swapping spit with Park Jimin. It’s lazy, yet it feels good. So much so that you’ve relaxed entirely.   In the back of your mind, you know you should get up and put some clothes on. Any cuddling or post-sex touching has largely been unprecedented before this and it’s not good to make habits you’ll have to eventually break. You should get your sweater off the floor, or at least slip on his purple t-shirt….   But you give into the temptation and shut your eyes for one second. One mere second.    That’s enough for you to doze off.   When Jimin realizes you’ve accidentally fallen asleep, he smiles to himself and tugs the blankets up to your shoulders, securing you in warmly.   //   You stifle another yawn with your hand.    It’s 9:30 in the goddamn morning and way too early for you. There’s a reason you pick afternoon classes, go to work afterwards and then go see Jimin to end your day off. There’s no situation good enough that warrants your alarm blaring before eight — but you suppose a graduation ceremony could be an exception.   “There’s so many people,” your dad gasps in wonderment, looking around the vast hall. “Do you know them all?”   “No.” You hold in your sigh. “I don’t.”   For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been running around looking for your parents after they’ve wandered off and gotten lost. If they weren’t spamming their cameras on their phone and telling you to smile in front of the odd statue or the meaningless bulletin board that wasn’t even part of your faculty, it was calling your name as loud as they could to find you in the crowds.   You’re happy over their enthusiasm but also burdened. It’s a lot of mixed feelings.   “Y/N?”   Dark hair and brown eyes — a certain someone who you weren’t expecting to run into is staring right at you with a boyish smile. “Jimin?” He looks good, a suit underneath and a black graduation gown over it that falls to his calf. His gown has a golden hood and tassel while yours is white — the colours symbolizing your different faculties and areas of study.    “Hey.” His gaze is warm. “You look nice.”   “Thanks. You too.”   You don’t linger on him for long, not when his parents are right by his side. You divert your vision and greet them politely. Jimin surprisingly looks a lot like his dad and his mom has a kind face. They seem like sweet people and you’re suddenly breaking into a sweat. “Nice to meet you.”   Your own parents make themselves known and you feel like your worlds are colliding as they shake hands and exchange names, congratulating each other on their child’s graduation.   You’re about to get them moving along when your mom nudges you. “Is this your boyfriend?”   Her voice is way too loud and you feel yourself burn in embarrassment.    “No. He’s just a friend,” you whisper it sharply but much your dismay, they look unconvinced.   You miss the way Jimin smiles to himself.   “We should get a picture!” his dad declares and your own dad looks even more elated at the idea of spamming more pictures. You already had to delete a hundred blurry ones, but your mom ignores your groan and pushes you both towards some weird artwork on the wall.   “Stand over here! Over here! Smile!”   Your parents end up sitting next to each other on the rows and you have no words, forced to sit at the bottom with the rest of your graduating class. It’s a wonder that the Arts Faculty was scheduled right before the Faculty of Kines. Fate or coincidence, you’re not sure yet.   But it’s still nice to see Jimin walk the stage and be able to cheer for him.   “Congratulations, Mr. Park.”   He grins. “Congratulations to you too, Miss L/N.”   It’s certain that the numerous celebrations with family, friends and relatives will be chaotic, so you take advantage of the opportunity while you still can. You steal just a little moment for your selfish desires by standing outside before you’re both bombarded by your circle of people.   “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.”   “Oh, stop it with the sappiness.” You can’t feign a roll of your eyes when your smile is so big.   He swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and laughing. “Why? Don’t like it?” And the little shit slyly leans in to whisper, “You like it when I call you my baby though.”   “Jimin!”   He laughs and you sigh with a smile.   You’re glad you ran into him.

[Post-Graduation]   You open the door, welcoming yourself in.   “Hey.”   Jimin’s on the couch and glances at you, unfazed at how you’ve waltzed right into his apartment with little warning. You’ve always knocked out of courtesy for his roommates, but ever since he moved out of the dormitories, you find little need to make him walk all the way to the door.   He’s watching a thriller and you flop down on his couch, leaning over to plant a quick peck against his mouth as a greeting. “How was work?”   “It was okay. A bit busy. I met this nice old lady and we chatted for a bit. She called me handsome, so there’s that.” He grins and you scoff lightly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as you watch the main character venture into an abandoned house on screen. Jimin loves his praises, so you’re not wholly surprised he’s kept a mental note of it.    You’re not sure why it’s important though. Anyone with eyes would agree he’s good-looking.   “How was class?”   “Awful,” you mumble, feeling tired against him. You came over to get rid of some sexual frustration, but you’re not even sure you have the energy to do anything anymore. “Commuting was brutal this morning. Traffic was backed up on the highway and I was late, and yesterday I had to drive back at night. My parents are driving me nuts too. I can’t study properly.”   Jimin hums a soothing note and slings an arm at the back of the couch where you’re sitting, letting you lean into him. It goes quiet as the two of you watch the suspenseful scene and then he absentmindedly pipes up after a minute, “You could always move in with me.”   He continues, “It’s closer to the university and it’s quiet during the day, so you can study. We could always study together too.”   It’s a good idea, but— “I can’t afford that.”   “I don’t mind paying rent for a while. It’s the same either way.”   It takes a second for the words sink in and then you’re peeling yourself off of him.   Your gaze is met with Jimin’s, eyes locking into one another and the movie is left in the background. “As roommates?”   He shrugs. “There’s only one bedroom, but sure.”   A studio apartment. One bed shared. Two people.   Watching movies. Having sex. Eating together.   It doesn’t sound bad to you whatsoever, but you contemplate it. It swirls around inside your head and you murmur, “Isn’t that breaking the rules of being friends with benefits?”   And you don't know why but Wendy’s words from the other day are echoing inside the caverns of your brain at the worst moment. “You know, your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly normal.” You weren’t sure what she meant and you still don’t know. Not when she had advertised and encouraged this kind of arrangement all those years ago. When she had told you many people got involved in each other like this.   But you’re starting to wonder if something is off.   Did you do something wrong? Did your relationship with Jimin spiral out of control? But everything feels normal.   After three years, you’d think you would’ve mastered the art of benefits by now.   You sigh, getting a headache. Yet, Jimin merely shrugs.    As if the definitions and boundaries don’t bother him whatsoever.    “Is it?”   “Kind of. I mean, living together, being mutually exclusive. It almost sounds like….”   “Like what?” His brows lift. “Like we’re dating?”   You feel hot in your face, skin toasted like a furnace. Maybe you’re being delusional or silly. Maybe he’s going to laugh at you. “This is what couples who are going to get engaged do.”   “Maybe we should date then…?” The pitch of Jimin’s voice raises at the end, not necessarily a question but neither a statement. It’s questionable like he’s unsure how you feel. Like he’s playing a guessing game. And then he smiles at your shocked expression.   Jimin turns to face you fully. His gaze is heavy, earnest. “Maybe we should date.”   This time, it’s repeated as an assertion.   Confident. Unwavering. Sincere.   Jimin leans in to kiss you as if he can’t resist anymore. It’s tender, taking you off guard and you lean into him, finally allowing yourself to become surrounded by him. Mind. Body. And soul.   When the two of you pull away, he smiles while catching his breath. “I-I’m down if you are. This apartment can be yours and you can study here and sleep here and whatever. We can eat together and I’ll buy you take out or cook. It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m cool with anything. We can keep being friends with benefits, if that’s what you want….so…......what do you want?”   You exhale lightly, feeling warm. “This...is a lot.”   “Is it?” Instantly, Jimin appears panicked and you hold back a laugh. “We’ve technically been together for three years and...what we’ve been doing recently is basically dating. In my opinion.”   “Did Wendy put you up to this?”   “No.” He shakes his head. “Frankly, the person I talk to most these days is you. And I like it that way.”   God, you hate him.    You pull Jimin in for another kiss, an aggressive and eager one. Enough that you can feel the heat off of his own face. You move to straddle his thighs and when you break apart, you muster a glare at him. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard not to catch feelings. You’re ruining all my efforts, you know that, Park?”   He grins. “Is this a yes?”   “It is.” This time, he’s the one to kiss you, sealing your lips together as he smiles against your mouth and squeezes giggles out of you. Even if he doesn’t say it, even if he’s saving it for another day, you know from his tender touches that he loves you. And it’s mutual.   No longer do you need to worry — leave right after the deed is done or be panicked when you’ve accidentally fallen asleep in his bed. You’re unashamed when he kisses you harder as a greeting, when he holds your hand, when you go out together. You can have pillow talks without needing to guard yourself, cuddle him, call him yours.   And when Christmas arrives, meaning sweater weather and snow dusting from the sky, you have someone to keep you warm. Someone who you can come back to and call your home.

[caffernnn]

Haru’s hopelessness - an extensive rambling.

Watchers of Free! Eternal Summer - y’all remember this moment, right? 

Throughout S2, as some of the boys now have to seriously think about their lives and paths after high school, Haru struggles to think past what he’s always known: swimming for his friends/himself, eating mackerel, and being free. Things arguably take a darker turn once Haru cannot run from the question anymore and breaks, lashing out at Rin and saying he doesn’t have a dream or a future. 

There are so many things that can be unpacked from this quote alone, and my thoughts on the matter will probably be sporadic, but here are a few key things I’d like to try diving into in this post:

My interpretation of Haru’s, Makoto’s, and Rin’s characters’ mindsets

What Haru is likely trying to say

How Makoto and Rin interpret his words (based on their mindsets and experiences)

I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on it all as well, so please feel free to add on :)

DISCLAIMER: This post will reference material outside of S2 itself to explain my insight/interpretation of the characters (S1 episodes, High Speed novel), but I won’t be putting full links to all of those materials in this post. If you’d like a specific link to anything I’m referencing, let me know and I can try to dig one up.

When first hearing Haru say that he doesn’t have a dream or a future, it is shocking and concerning, especially to his friends. However, as broken as lost as Haru is in this moment, the weight of his words and what he’s verbally trying to convey is most likely different than what his friends hear. I feel as if a big reason for this comes down to the different ways the characters perceive time and approach general goal-setting. 

Here is a video that can give a frame of reference for what I mean by “time perception,” but I’ll still try to explain my thinking ---> https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJsdVUhu/

Rin and Haru butt heads on many occasions throughout the series due to having opposing characteristics and approaches to life. The big difference that comes into play during S2 is how they both approach goal-setting and time. As soon as we’re introduced to Rin, it becomes apparent that he is someone who is a visionary that has always set his sights on the future. From boldly proclaiming his Olympic goals in elementary school to encouraging their team to put their relay trophy into a time capsule, Rin establishes himself early on as a dreamer that puts his all into his long-term goals. Being someone who thinks about things in this manner isn’t inherently good or bad, but it does lend a hand to many of the issues we see Rin go through in S1 (having tunnel vision on his goal that isolates him from his friends, being prone to catastrophize when confronted with road blocks along the way [like when he breaks down after losing to Haru in middle school], etc.). However, all of that dreaming puts him at an advantage now when preparing to move forward into post-high-school life. He has a frame of reference for most of his next steps (winning races, talking to scouts), and now he just has to make it a reality.

Haru, in essence, lives his life in the moment. If he wants to swim, he’ll try to swim; if he wants mackerel, he’ll try to make mackerel. He lets the people around him (usually Makoto) worry about the possible consequences for his actions (swimming too early in spring might get him sick, swimming in a fish tank might get him kicked out of XYZ place, cooking mackerel after a long bath might make him late for school, etc.). The way he thinks about all of his “tomorrows” beyond acting freely on impulse is through having a consistent routine or norm to cling onto. When swimming, he’ll swim freestyle. When given a choice, he’ll default to eating mackerel. He’ll find a way to get in a swim or a bath most days because water is safe. He’ll walk with Makoto to and from school, sticking to the side of the path closest to the ocean and anticipating sharing the same split popsicle. This is about as much thought as he lends to the future, usually: he’ll keep doing the things that make him happy and comfortable, whatever that’ll mean to him in the moment. In opposition of Rin, this frame of mind based in immediacy and short-term goals helps him in S1 (teaching Rin to appreciate the moment, connecting with his friends, not getting lost in the overly analytical or competitive side of swimming), but it makes the challenges that come with his looming graduation in S2 much harder to cope with. 

The reason that it’s important to understand how both Haru and Rin frame their perceptions of time is because it plays right into what Haru is saying during their argument. He is frustrated with Rin because Rin doesn’t understand the way Haru thinks/lives moment-to-moment (he yells as much in this fight) and he is tired of hearing people for years try and push him into long-term thinking about his future when he doesn’t naturally approach life that way. Think back to one of the first things Haru said in S1: 

“When you're ten, they call you a prodigy. When you're fifteen, they call you a genius. Once you hit twenty, you're just an ordinary person. About three years until I'm ordinary. Man... I can't wait to be ordinary.”

Because of Haru’s swimming abilities, people have looked at him as a prodigy and have had their own visions about his potential or his future ever since he was young. Even if it seems like flattery, Haru feels boxed in by all of this. Being considered a prodigy comes with expectations that put him on a pedestal he never asked to be placed on -- if he’s going to swim, he’s expected to swim well; if he swims well, he’s expected to capitalize on his abilities in a competitive manner or expand his horizons to other forms of swimming; if he’s going to live his life tied to the water, people view him as a swimmer before they view him as anything/anyone else. Haru has been frustrated with all of this since he was younger (as expressed in S1), but it gets even worse as people close in on Haru from all sides with advice and sentiments that compound in Haru’s head as belonging to the echo chamber he hates so much. 

So... what does this all mean in relevance to Haru saying he doesn’t have a dream or a future? Here’s my line of thinking: all of the internalized frustration Haru has with long-term thinkers (from his perspective) speaking over him and not taking time to understand his in-the-moment intuition-led mindset comes out in this line. What Haru is trying to say is that he doesn’t have a detailed long-term plan because he isn’t a romantic visionary like Rin. He wants to stick with his relatively free lifestyle (y’know, the one where he can do what he wants, but still ultimately sticks to a routine) because he sees no point in forcing himself to put effort into big changes if 1) he’s satisfied and 2) the system isn’t broken.*

*we learn later, especially through Haru and Makoto’s later fight, that these two points are up for debate, but this is what Haru has convinced himself to believe at the time of this specific confrontation.

However, with the way Haru vocalizes this frustration, it is vague enough that Rin and the others hear something much different. It’s written right on their faces. Like I mentioned earlier, being a long-term thinker prone to catastrophizing, Rin interprets (and possibly misconstrues) Haru’s words to mean that he doesn’t think he has the potential or abilities to strive for something. Rin feels Haru’s words like a punch to the gut because he relates Haru’s hopelessness to the times he has felt lost and hopeless, like when defeat after defeat led to him breaking down after his middle school race with Haru. It’s shocking and it stings for Rin to hear, because as much as he’s learned to believe in himself and his own future, he’s also held onto those dreams and hope for his friends. I’ll admit, his dedication and borderline obsession with swimming lends to him mostly vocalizing the dreams he has for his friends that are related to swimming (Makoto and Haru getting scouted, Sousuke returning to swimming), but the love is still there. 

The idea of long-term vs short-term thinkers I’ve presented isn’t completely dichotomous or black-and-white, even though Haru and Rin tend to fall on the far opposite sides of the proposed spectrum. So, where does someone like Makoto fall? 

Makoto is an interesting case. From how I’ve come to understand his character, I would say he also looks to the future, albeit in less idealistic or extreme ways than Rin. Makoto’s forward line of thinking presents itself through both his people-pleasing tendencies and his caring disposition. When Makoto interacts with people, he is often observant and calculating, trying to figure out how he can navigate a conversation in the most complimentary or polite manner. This ability and tendency to understand/empathize with others ties into a lot of the roles he takes on: team captain, big brother, part-time position as a swim coach, full-time position as Haru’s impulse control... he is inclined to think about the future and all of the possible consequences for his actions. This also ties into some of the other things we know Makoto’s character for, such as being a scaredy-cat (aka, someone who overthinks consequences in fear of the unknown) and a ray of sunshine (aka, someone who wants to see the best in people and holds onto optimism/hope for the people he loves, even if it sometimes means not saving enough for himself and his own abilities). 

Despite being more of a forward-thinker, Makoto has definitely been influenced by his close relationship with Haru. Makoto has spent most of his life observing and learning how to read Haru, and it has been shown time and time again that Makoto is one of the people (if not, the person) that understands Haru best. He understands that Haru values the freedom of choice and harbors a desire for unconditional appreciation. He understands that Haru puts stock in consistency/reliability and needs time and space to process or reflect when life deviates from that carefully-crafted norm. Makoto’s actions towards Haru over the years all reflect him trying to be respectful of these observations. Even when he can tell something is bothering Haru, Makoto tries to let Haru work it out on his own first, not prodding him for information but letting his presence/support be known all the same. I digress, being best friends, their lives and routines are tightly woven together. Because of this, Makoto spends a lot of time also living in-the-moment with Haru -- he is a large proponent in Haru’s “free” lifestyle. 

Since Makoto has a foot in both Haru and Rin’s respective worlds, how does he interpret Haru’s declaration that he doesn’t have a dream or a future? Surely, since he understands Haru and his position so well and has always been respectful of his mindset/wishes, he gets what Haru is trying to say... right? 

Unfortunately for Haru (or fortunately, depending on who you ask), Makoto is immediately concerned by those words in a way similar to Rin. Like I mentioned earlier, Makoto holds deep optimism and hope in his chest for all of the people he cares about. Even though he never forced lofty expectations onto Haru to swim or be anything other than himself, he still holds so much care and hope for his best friend. For Makoto to hear that Haru might not have that faith in himself or the belief that he is worth a bright future, it breaks his heart. Similar to Rin, he is probably thinking back to his own moments of hopelessness, and I can’t help but think back to the lost and scared Makoto fighting with himself during the middle school days. When entering middle school, Makoto struggles with his identity, trying to figure out just how dependent he is on Haru’s friendship. One of his darkest moments in my mind comes from Chapter 8 of the High Speed! 2 novel, when Makoto is beating himself up especially hard after being frozen by his fear of the ocean yet again. Haru finds Makoto alone on a secluded part of the shore, where he says this:

“Will I be alright even if Haru isn’t here? …..I wanted to make sure of that.”

Raising his eyebrows, he shows a lonely smile. Makoto was fighting all along. He was suffering, all along. In a place where Haruka’s thoughts couldn’t possibly reach... 

“Would Haru be alright even if I weren’t here?”

If Makoto’s internal struggles throughout their middle school days reveal anything, it is that Makoto has experienced a hopelessness that he wouldn’t ever wish on his friends. To think that Haru might now be at war with himself in a way that makes him question his own place in the world, his future... it is the ultimate catalyst for Makoto to step in and try to talk to Haru. Sadly, we all remember how that confrontation went...

ENTER: THE FIREWORKS FIGHT (S2E11)

(Since this post is already super long, I might go more into my thoughts on how this all plays into the misunderstandings about the fireworks fight in a separate post. We’ve talked about the fight at length on multiple occasions and you can definitely find my thoughts on the matter if you look under the “#fireworks angst night” or “#meta” tags on my profile.)

If you’ve made it this far into the post, thanks for sticking with me. I’d love to hear about how you interpreted Haru’s words or how you think the others took in his breakdown. 

[popatochisssp]

Are any of the new guys ok with being child free? (I keep having to explain to my fam how I'm NOT EVER going to have kids) And I'd like some solidarity from fictional skeletons.

Broadly speaking, I think all of them would be okay with that! In general, all the boys’ idea of the future is uncertain and something they need to work out with their s/o, so that informs the perspective a lot.

I truly don’t think ‘no kids’ or ‘yes kids’ would be an explicit deal-breaker for any of them, but in terms of where their thoughts naturally fall about the topic:

Pre-discussion/negotiation, it’s probably a no: Sky (Underswap Sans), Paps (Underswap Papyrus), Mal (Swapfell Sans), Rus (Swapfell Papyrus), Ash (Undergloom Sans), Brick (Horrorfell Sans), Merc (Horrorswap Sans), Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans)

Genuinely neutral or undecided: Sans (Undertale), Pyre (Underfell Papyrus), Papy (Horrortale Papyrus), King (Horrorfell Papyrus), Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus), Sunny (Gastertale Sans), Aster (Gastertale Papyrus)

Pre-discussion/negotiation, it’s probably a yes: Papyrus (Undertale), Jasper (Underfell Sans), Slate (Horrortale Sans), Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus), Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus)

But like I said... they’re flexible, because your relationship and the future they want to have with you doesn’t work without... well, you!

If you’re a ‘definitely no kids’ person and you see your skeleton in the ‘yes’ category, that doesn’t mean you’re doomed-- it just means a couple conversations about it to convey your thoughts...and depending on the level of gungho for having kids he is (most aren’t married to it), maybe agreeing to a compromise where you adopt an animal or two and be dog/cat/iguana/whatever-the-hell parents.

Same goes for a ‘yes i want kids’ person who sees their skeleton of choice in the ‘no’ section, that’s just where they are before talking it all out with you. Some time and a few conversations to understand where everybody’s coming from and how to move forward, they’re willing to negotiate.

Kids or no kids, neither is a deal-breaker, it’s all fine and you can work it out together!

Y’know what, while I’m at it, here’s just the basic thought processes of all of them, just to give a little peek into their skulls on the matter...

Sans (Undertale): Kids are fun, doesn’t have any particularly strong desire to have one of his own, but he raised his kid brother for awhile and he knows it’s something he can do, if it’s what you want.

Papyrus (Undertale): Kids are great and he’d be a great parent, he just knows it! You’d be a great parent, too! ...But if that’s not what you want to do, then that’s okay. There’s plenty of other great things for you to do together in life!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Kids are wonderful, but raising his little brother solo after their dad disappeared... That was hard and he definitely wasn’t ready for the responsibility. It was a humbling experience and he refuses to commit to having kids of his own until he’s sure it’s something he sincerely, passionately wants.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Feels awkward around kids, as a rule, and also kind of thinks of himself as a (mostly contained, at least) disaster of a skeleton. Is he ready for the responsibility of being in charge of a brand new being’s growth and development??? Not sure! Not sure at all!

Jasper (Underfell Sans): He likes kids alright... thinks about maybe having some of his own someday, the idea of a family is nice, in his head... but he definitely isn’t sure about the reality. Worries about if he’d be a good enough parent, or if his kids (if he were to have them) would resent him or just not like him. It’s a nice idea, but nothing’s set in stone for him.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Honestly never thought about it. Part of him fully expected to die Underground in some battle or other, or excepting that, he wouldn’t find a partner who’d want to be with him long-term, much less long enough that he could make a family with them. He’s not...explicitly opposed to it, but he also hasn’t given it a lot of thought at all. He’ll need time to sort out his feelings, whatever his partner’s opinions on potential kids are.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Terrified, petrified to have kids of his own. Being around them is...fine, but... He’s got a lot of issues tied up with his...parent... and having to be a pseudo-parent to his own brother at a very young age, it’s made him worry about repeating patterns and failing, hurting, damaging, or otherwise doing his own children a disservice, if he were to have them-- even as a grown and well-situated adult. If kids are something his partner really wants, they’ve got those insecurities to talk about with him for sure.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He’s actually really good with kids, he relates to them well and always just talks to them like people, so of course they love him. But having his own... That, he’s not sure about. He’s definitely a little bit of a disaster, and still working on a lot of Adult Life Skills, and the thought of being in charge of a whole entire brand new person is more than a little scary. Not sure if he’s ready for that step--or if he’ll ever be!

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Loves kids, and loves the idea of a big family. He’s had more than enough death, life is very appealing to him and a full house honestly sounds wonderful. ...But he does have some memory issues, a dash of narcolepsy, and some hard, dissociative days that make him worry he might not be a very good parent. He’d do his best to do right by his kids if he ends up having them, of course he would, but if that’s just not in the cards for him, that wouldn’t be the end of the world. He’s the one who’d definitely want to bring in some furbabies if two-legged babies aren’t on the table, and he’d still be a very, very happy man!

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He likes kids, but doesn’t have many strong feelings on having his own. He’d be alright either way his partner wanted to go-- as long as the two of them are together and safe and happy, he’s got everything he needs.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Kids are fun, but honestly...oof. He’s got a chronic fatigue thing going on and keeping up with a kid for more than an hour or two at a time... he’s not sure he could hack it. Maybe he could, but that’s really something to think about before just diving in, y’know?

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Very good with children! They’re so curious and bright and he loves that about them! He’s got a lot of nurturing, caretaker tendencies built right into his personality, so he’s a natural at looking after and corralling them. He’s easily flustered and moves slow in his romantic relationships, though, so there’s a long timeline before the ‘should we have kids’ talk is even on the table, plenty of chances to share thoughts and work out a gameplan, whether that’s yea or nay. If yea, wonderful! If nay, he’d probably be just as happy babysitting friends’ kids and being Cool Uncle Papyrus as having any of his own.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): It’s... a nice thought. But he definitely doesn’t trust himself enough to feel totally comfortable having kids of his own. He barely trusts himself in Polite Society some days, and he’d just be too worried about not being in control and hurting or scaring a little one, especially a little one of his own. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself if he made his own kid afraid of him. Plus memory issues, nightmares, (depending on his fluency at the time) a language barrier... So ‘no kids’ is...probably preferable, but if it’s something you really want... maybe start with an animal or two first? The ol’ practice-baby pet, see how it goes kinda deal, and move forward from there.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Like his counterpart, never really thought about it much...but when he does, he decides he could go either way on it. If you’re not interested in kids, fine, that’s more time for just the two of you. If you are, well... he was literally a monarch that ruled over all of monsterkind, for a time--surely, he could manage to be a passingly decent parent, with you as his partner in the endeavor. He’ll take his cues from you as to whether it’s a yes or a no.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): His feelings haven’t really changed from pre-Famine. In fact, he’s probably more hesitant now, after so viscerally confronting the consequences of his own hasty decisions and having to face his own fallibility the way he did. The thought of being responsible for a whole small life is very nerve-wracking--especially if said proposed life is to be biologically his, because he really doesn’t know what the DT in his system (pre or post-integration) will pass on to theoretical next-of-kin, if anything at all. Maybe not a ‘never,’ but not a vigorous, enthusiastic ‘yes’ either, lots to think about...and maybe tests to run...

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): A couple years ago, he’d have been a little more in the ‘no’ camp, but now... He’s been through a lot. He’s struggling sometimes still, at least emotionally, but he made it, so y’know... maybe he’s capable of handling more than he thought he was. Still not a solid ‘yes’--he’s aware of his lack of filter and its tendency to cause hurt feelings, and he does like his peace and quiet, which kids are very much not conducive to, as a rule, so he’d have to put in some work and make some sacrifices-- but he’s no longer wholly a ‘no’ either. Depending on your own thoughts, there’s plenty of room to negotiate.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Kids are fine, he can handle them well enough, and even the thought of having his own doesn’t stress him out so much as it once did--he’s changed a lot, and been through a lot, taking a second crack at parenthood from a new perspective wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world--but he’s also not particularly interested in it. He likes his leisure time and his luxuries, and much as he’s sure he could find room in that to accommodate a child...he doesn’t see much of a reason to. He could be convinced, if it’s something that you really want, but he’d also stay childfree without a second thought to the matter.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Good with kids, like his counterpart, but also a little more capable and confident in himself and his ability to get things done. So... having a kid might be a little intimidating for him, but he generally feels like he could probably figure it out... and a kid might be a nice outlet for some of his caretaking urges, and extra motivation to keep fighting his phobia, to make sure their childhood is good and doesn’t suffer from them having a dad who’s scared to go outside. He definitely likes the idea of someone to look after and to be better for, but if that’s not for you, he wouldn’t force the issue. Would maybe want a furbaby though, instead, probably special needs that not everybody could/would be able to take care of (like Dizzy!) to fill that niche.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Kids are really cool and fun to hang out with--crazy little people, no filter, just running around, saying things, living life--they’re awesome, but he’s not totally sold on the idea of having his own. He does a lot of aimless life-living himself, and he feels like maybe that’s not the best thing for a kid. He doesn’t really have a career, he does things without a lot of planning, he goes places spontaneously, and... maybe that’s fun and exciting for a kid to be raised around, or maybe it’s unstable and harmful. He’s not really sure which and he probably doesn’t want to bring a kid into the mix until he knows. With a partner who’s a ‘yes’ on children and can help him co-parent and all that, sure, he’d probably be willing to give it a go. With one who’s a ‘no,’ that’s fine too, it’s a nonissue!

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A little weird and stiff around kids, never totally sure how he’s supposed to talk to them or what he’s meant to say (especially when it comes to those things you’re supposed to lie to kids about, he’s very bad at that!!!), but he has nothing against children in general. As far as the idea of having his own... Well, if his partner wants to have kids, it wouldn’t be a no-- he’d just have to do a lot of research on the subject first, to feel more comfortable and to hopefully prepare, mentally, as much as one can ever prepare for this. After that, he’d be open to discuss and negotiate the matter with his partner from there, to sort out the logistics. With a partner who doesn’t want kids, though, he’d almost certainly never even bring it up on his own and honestly probably thinks of ‘childfree’ as the expected default rather than something quirky, nontraditional, or a deal-breaker.

[werevulvi]

I hope these show up in the right order. This kinda stuff is exactly what makes me feel lost about my transness. Like I was just trying to be nice and agreed with this person's post. I had no interest in being an asshole or arguing what bio sex, or even what butch, is. I was just declaring myself as a bio female because it felt relevant to the topic and how I relate to it. It amazes me how even the pro self-ID types are against self-ID when someone identifies in a way that doesn't suit their narrative, even when it's a trans person whose identity they deny.

They blocked me and I don't want anyone going after them, I just wanna rant. And not even about this specific post or person, but more so about trying to exist as a gender critical trans person in general. I've been thinking about that for days, weeks, perhaps months or even years already, so it's really not about this specific person. I guess it was just what triggered me to finally start writing.

I guess I feel like both most other trans people and most other gender critical people, view transness as incompatible with gender critical opinions, and like that makes me feel pulled in two opposing directions. But anyone of any ideology can be dysphoric and transition because it helps them cope. I don't think that my opinions, or my choice to hang out with radfems, means that I'm self-hating, or even that I'm going against the needs of my own trans demographic. My own trans demographic is just all too good at confusing wants with needs... generally speaking. I see sex and gender the way I do because it makes sense to me personally, and I don't even argue that it's necessarily the objective truth. I don't think there is such a thing. It's just my truth, my perception of the world.

That I can't make myself see myself as a man for real, despite my dysphoria and transition, doesn't mean that I think it's wrong to transition, or that my body is damaged by it, or that transitioning is useless. Because it's not. I love my transition and everything it has given me. I'm comfortable with my transitioned body. It deserves love, especially my love. And although I still struggle with some insecurities, I feel like I love my body. It's been... incredibly good to me. It's stayed very healthy, and even keeping up a strong immune system despite my smoking, self harm, careless sexual escapades, etc. I may still have a fraught relationship with being female, but as long as I transition, I seem to be managing it fairly well. Except then I have a more fraught relationship with society instead. Can't win, but that's life, innit?

I don't think either my transness or my political opinions are my real problem or ever was. I think it's society's constant fighting about trans people's genders, lives and choices, that makes me constantly cave in on myself. Can't handle the pressure.

It feels like it's only ever getting worse. Ten years ago my biggest concern was people not ever finding me attractive because I was turning myself into some kind of a freak, which luckily I was proven to be wrong about. Five years ago my biggest concern was nonbinary people trying to normalize asking people their pronouns, which made me fear that people would never leave me alone about my gender, unless I forced myself to be hyper-masculine, which I still worry about. Three years ago my biggest concern was having been stripped of my sex-based rights and dehumanized for how I had chosen to treat my dysphoria, which I still worry about as well, and now...

...my biggest concerns are being treated as a third gender, fetishistic predator who should be shoved away into gender neutral spaces, and I fear that one day medical transition will be taken away as an option to treat dysphoria if transness is continued to be rejected as a medical condition. My heart rate is ever increasing. Can I even realistically "just go on with my life" anymore? I feel compelled to do something, but I also feel like there isn't anything I can do. No matter how many people I try to "educate" about dysphoria and why transition is incredibly important, all the while being as humble as I can, I am seriously lacking behind the much faster spread of harmful misinformation.

Thing is, I do not blame gender critical people for spreading some of that misinformation. For example of trans women as fetishistic predators, which people apply to trans men when they still fail to understand that MtF is not the only kinda trans there is, or when we dare to be just a little bit feminine while passing as male. If anything, I blame the true sources of such harmful claims, which slowly increase my anxious heart rate, over years, turning into decades, of living as openly trans. I blame opportunistic men who pretend to be trans women for gaining access to women's spaces, be it prisons, spas, shelters, sports, what have you, when they cannot possibly be dysphoric judging by how happily they swing their dicks around women as if it's no big deal and make no attempt at transitioning, but also who cares if they are dysphoric, no one should behave that way either way. I blame the trans rights activists who say lesbians have to suck dick if it's attached to a trans woman, and those who say that gay men have to be into pussy and date trans men. I blame those who say that trans women are bio female by virtue of identifying as female, and claiming that they can get periods, by virtue of... bowel cramps?! I'd also blame those who try to change female specific language on behalf of shielding trans men from our own dysphoria, in the rare cases we'd end up getting pregnant or manage to drag our asses to the gyno office for a pap smear, which... most of us really don't, regardless of if you call us women or uterus-havers, sincerely, please stop. It makes people think trans women are trying to take over the term "woman" entirely for themselves, which of course they don't.

I could go on, but I won't, as this post is not about these things. It's more so about how estranged I feel from the people who spout these things, knowing that they think they're speaking for me and my supposed needs as a tranny. But I see no point in trying to educate them, as they won't listen any more to me than they would to a radfem, and again, I think this post in my screenshots shows just how unwilling they are to listen to me.

I guess living with my transition on constant display is what's hard, and I guess I just need to vent about that, as it's always judged one way or the other; as either me having made myself into a man, or that I'm a delusional woman who mutilated herself; and it's kinda hard to find a kind and sane middle ground, that perhaps I'm just a victim of circumstances, and trying to make the most of my own life, regardless of what the fuck I am. That social shit, on top of dealing with dysphoria, makes it really difficult to not hate myself, I guess. But I have tried to live stealth and that made it if possible even worse, as it felt like I was lying, keeping a huge secret that grew in me like a spreading virus.

What I want is to just live my life, and for neither my bio sex, nor my transition, to stop me from doing that. I want to work through the worst of my autism, enough to be able to pursue a career in some low-paying labor, blue-collar job; get a car and driver's licence, find a suitable husband to have a child and cats with; I want my own garden, an art studio; I want to build muscle to become strong and even more independent (and perhaps strong enough to carry that husband, but at least to carry myself), and so on. When I picture myself in that potential future, it is with this male-like appearance I transitioned my body into, but it is also as a mother and wife.

And thinking about all of that makes me happy, it makes me smile and feel joy, meaningfulness, hope... While thinking about arguing online with some miserable fuck, who's deadset on arguing semantics and calling me a terf, when all I wanted was to show a little bit of kindness, that "hey, I agree with you, you make a good point here, and I'm not here to fight" only to be spat right back into my face... just makes me feel sad. Whatever happened to diversity of opinion? It's gone, it became labeled as bad, and left people like me with no place to be.

There is no point in arguing with such people, or even trying not to argue. There's no winning in that, there's no reward, no accomplishment. It's better to walk away.

I know I just have to get over this, this inner conflict of going against my transness with my gender critical opinions, and that I'm going against my womanhood with my transition - and be stronger than the political climate that's pulling me into pieces. But if it's peace that I want... I can just forget about it. There's no road there. But I have trouble letting go of that simple dream. The internet is constantly manipulating me into thinking I have an exciting social life, when in fact it's non-existent, and the lie is destructive. With internet vs real life, I'm living a double life. One of those lives has a future, the other one does not.

I'm glad I made this rant. It actually made me feel better, and reminded me that it's still worth it. Being trans, moving forward, focusing on what is good and what can become good in life. And it reminded me that the internet is merely an imitation of life, a substitute for human connection, and can... as with much else, be both good and bad.

[michaelsheenpt]

Michael Sheen: The pandemic has shown what is possible on homelessness

The actor now uses his Hollywood cash to fund his passion for activism. Sheen reveals why he revels in spending money on the things that matter and why he has hope for the post-Covid future.

Michael Sheen, activist and actor. It is in that order these days. And he’s doing rather well in both spheres. He has spent the last few years trying to find a way to balance his twin passions. And, he says, he is slowly getting there.  

“A big part of it was shifting things in my head and knowing what the priorities were,” says the 51-year-old.

“I made the shift psychologically to go, right, the acting work and everything that comes with that is going to support the other stuff I’m doing.  

“So even though to the outside world, maybe it wouldn’t seem like it – because I’ve been doing lots of acting work and things that have kept the profile up and all that –  from my point of view, the priority has been different. Now the acting work fits in around the other stuff.”

That ‘other stuff’ involves supporting the Homeless World Cup and the fight to expand access to affordable credit, campaigning to get the right to a good home enshrined in law in Wales and combating loneliness with the Great Winter Get Together (an idea inspired by the late MP Jo Cox). Then there’s working with Social Enterprise UK, for whom he is a patron alongside The Big Issue’s Lord Bird, helping local journalism and communities get access to trustworthy information, publicising and supporting both foodbanks and theatres and fighting period poverty.  

It’s a heady and righteous cocktail of vital causes. And it takes up a lot of Sheen’s time. With the Covid pandemic of 2020, and Brexit around the corner, he feels his activism is going to be more important than ever in 2021.

“Everything that was happening before Covid came along which has been exacerbated,” says Sheen. “So it’s not like issues I was focused on beforehand – around homelessness and high-cost credit – are going away.

“We’re bracing ourselves for it getting a lot harder and more people being involved. The work that was going on pre–pandemic is going to get even more pressured. Because when you look into anything around poverty and inequality before the pandemic, the fallout from the way Universal Credit was being rolled out was having a massive effect. Well, there’s going to be a lot more people on Universal Credit now.”  

But Sheen also sees this as a moment to seize, a chance to rebuild society anew, a period that is packed with potential.  

“We saw what was possible around homelessness during the pandemic, where people were able to get off the streets and were put into accommodation and given support that wasn’t there before,” he says.  

“That has made a lot of people think. If that’s possible during a pandemic when people are really motivated, then why can’t it happen afterwards as well? Why does it take a pandemic to do it? We have seen that the fact there are still people living on the street is a political choice.

“So while we are bracing ourselves for really challenging times, that’s balanced out by a sense that there’s the chance to build up from the ground again. How do we reimagine who we are and how we live and how we work together? The status quo wasn’t working. So we have to innovate, we have to reimagine, we have to reinvent – there is a moment of possibility to build back better.”

He is on a roll. He sounds like a politician. A good politician. With that rich, sonorous voice rising as he advocates a new way of living, a new vision for society. He compares the imminent, we hope, post-Covid moment to the situation facing the post-war Attlee government. 

“When you go through a big, nation–changing event, which this has been, there’s the opportunity to reimagine a different relationship between the state and society and between us as a community,” he continues. “To see how communities have pulled together gives you a new awareness of who we are and what we can be. We can rebuild our nation in the light of that.  

“There won’t always be that window of opportunity. We’ll go in a new direction and a new status quo will emerge. Let’s hope it can be a fairer one.”

But Sheen is not just about ideas for a brighter future for Wales, the UK, and beyond. He’s also at the top of the acting profession. And we’ve seen a lot of him in 2020.  

There was his brilliant, uncanny, portrayal of Chris Tarrant in Quiz back in March – the memorable pop-cultural drama-doc which drew a massive lockdown audience to its exploration of the infamous, scandalous, did-they-didn’t-they ‘cheat’ storm on ITV’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire – shedding light on the inventive, pre-internet ways WWTBAM fans across the country hooked up to game their way onto the show.

Sheen was – not for the first time in a career that has seen him portray with such skill a diverse crowd of famous names, including Brian Clough (The Damned United), Kenneth Williams (Fantabulosa), Tony Blair (The Deal, The Queen and The Special Relationship), and David Frost (in Frost/Nixon) – utterly, bewilderingly believable as Tarrant and the three-part series, aired over consecutive nights, was genuine event television. 

Then, when it became clear this pandemic and these lockdowns weren’t going anywhere fast, Sheen joined forces with his Good Omens co-star David Tennant to make Staged – the first, and perhaps only show to capture the tedium, the disconnectedness, the discombobulation of lockdown life.  

With the big–name actors playing heightened versions of themselves – Sheen pompous, cultured, guzzling wine, Tennant eager to please, upbeat, hapless – it was a roaring success on iPlayer.

“David is very different to what you see in the series in real life,” says Sheen. “But although I’d like to say I’m different to the version of me in Staged, that’s pretty much what I’m like.”

The surprise second series of Staged catches up with Sheen and Tennant (or should that be Tennant and Sheen?) a few months down the line.  

“We knew the series was very easy to do, filming it at home on a laptop – or that even if we went back to a more normal life again and were working elsewhere, we could film it anywhere,” says Sheen.  

“And by the time we came to the second series, it was different. Even though we were still spending a lot of time at home, the second series was during a period where everybody, including David and I, were trying to go back to do things. Then the rules kept changing.  

“So you never quite knew whether what was going to happen from day to day. The second series reflects that. But obviously, going back to work and trying to go back to normal is very different from me and David than they are for a lot of people – so we were aware that had to be dealt with as well, because never wanted it to be about two poncey actors and their lives. We wanted to find a way to do it so that people could still identify with it.”

This year, Sheen, like most of us, has spent more time at home. He has, he says, enjoyed catching fewer planes, appreciated his friends and extended family more than ever, raced through five series of Line of Duty and been wowed by Normal People, starting his way down Schitt’s Creek but still found little time to read novels (“I’ve asked for a few from Father Christmas”).  

Because if he does find time to read, it is usually research on housing, on fighting poverty, on rebuilding the broken or the out-of-control housing market, alongside the occasional script.

But if 2020 has been about anything for Sheen, is has been about spending time with his baby daughter Lyra.

“When we went into that first lockdown in March, she was only five months old,” he says.  

“So our focus has been her this whole time. Really our experiences wouldn’t have been massively different. The main overwhelming part of our experience of the last year has been having a baby, as opposed to Covid. And I know I’m very fortunate to be able to say that. But anyone who’s had a baby knows that that just takes up all your bandwidth.

“They give you structure, don’t they? A reason to get up in the morning. A lot of people have said it is difficult getting motivated to do stuff – but that’s not an issue when you’ve got a little one, is it? So I have got very used to being in the house. I even got to do two seasons of a TV show from my kitchen, which is pretty nice…”

Staged returns to BBC One and iPlayer on January 4

Michael Sheen on the legacy of the Homeless World Cup in Wales

In the summer of 2019, Cardiff hosted the Homeless World Cup. As the football tournament, featuring players from around the world, all of whom were experiencing homelessness, kicked off, we knew Michael Sheen had played a huge role in bringing the event to Wales.

What didn’t emerge until later was that, when some promised funding failed to emerge, Sheen was faced with a choice between sinking more than £1m of his own money into making it happen or cancelling the event.

He paid. They played.

It was a triumph and will last long in the memory. So how does Sheen feel now about it?

“It is an extraordinary event that happens every year,” he says. “It was going to be in Finland this year, which I was really looking forward to – because Finland has been quite pioneering in the Housing First strategy and I was looking forward to being able to find out more about that. But I still feel the way I did before – and what motivated me to try and make it happen here in Wales is that it is life-changing for people and can be a transformative experience in all kinds of ways.

“For some people who take part in it, it has an immediate effect. And for others, it may be years later that the effects of it manifest in their life. But that was why I was so committed to being a part of making that happen.

“A lot of the motivation for us in Wales was about what it could act as a platform for afterwards. And that has been affected by the Covid crisis, because a lot of the legacy work we were doing was unable to move forward in the way we’d hoped because of all the restrictions. But what I learned and discovered during that period has made a massive difference to me and the work I’m doing around homelessness.

“The relationships we developed through that time with support service organisations, the people I met and the insights I got into what people are struggling with and what would help were invaluable. It’s been a huge thing for me. I’m still paying for it. So that still affects my life as well, obviously, and things that I’m doing.

“But my acting work is there to support the other stuff. I’m putting money into things constantly, even though I still owe money to do with the Homeless World Cup. So until the time comes when I’m not able to earn money in the same way, then I’ll keep on spending it on the things that matter to me.”

SOURCE

[harostar]

How do you think of how AoT handles Anti Semitism, X Men fallacy aside. I've heard of how the reason the Eldians are so Hated was a result of reprehensible things there ancestors had done, and there religon with Ymir was sort of based on a Lie.

That would seem problematic at first glance, But I did want to learn more from someone who actually knew the series. Especially as I do know the situation in real life has complexities regarding Cycles of hate

You know, I had kind of set this Ask aside and been unsure about answering it. But I think I will give it a poke, as best as I can as someone that is one-degrees of separation from Jewish folks. So obvious disclaimer that I am approaching things from an outsider’s perspective.

The series stumbled heavily in choosing to so closely use allegories related to Nazi Germany and the Jewish people. I think a large percentage of the problem is because the Holocaust has become short-hand in public consciousness for Genocide and atrocities. Those images are scorched into the world-wide mind, and unfortunately touching on it as an allegory or using it as the basis for fictional discrimination is a very, very, very messy and difficult thing. ESPECIALLY when the creator(s) involved are not Jewish, and don’t understand the deeper aspects of Antisemitism that have been weaved into Western culture for centuries. 

Isayama borrowed from European history, used a historical atrocity to create a comparison in his work. He.......made many mistakes in doing so, because it’s a messy thing to do even when you ARE familiar with how much that hatred is woven into a lot of European imagery, stories, and beliefs. A Japanese audience is probably not going to pick up on those elements, the way a Western reader might for better or worse. 

I think that decision has muddled and tainted a lot of discussion around the series. Some people outright call it “Nazi Propaganda” and refuse to associate with people that read the series. I would argue that we are the audience have a lot of digest and discussion in terms of how the “Eldian Allegory” plays in comparison to the other themes of the work. 

Because the series would have worked MUCH BETTER had he not made the decision to base his fictional ethnic group on a real one. It was a mistake that casts doubt on a work that focuses so much on themes so opposed to a “Nazi” or “Fascist” ideology.

The atrocities of the Eldian Empire simply being exaggerations and demonizing, not matching a simple history of neighboring groups/nations fighting each other for resources and land. The idea of Ymir as a Goddess or a witch that made a deal with the Devil both being false versions of what was simply....a girl. An ordinary girl that stumbled across something Otherworldly, and gained a power that was exploited. 

The history of the series is simply about one group gaining an advantage over their neighbors. The Titans served as numerous metaphors throughout the series:

Dehumanization, especially in times of war

Gunpowder 

Chemical weapons

Nuclear weapons

The largest theme that emerges particularly in the final arcs of the story are explicitly Anti-War, Anti-Imperialism, Anti-Militarism, and Pro-Humanitarian.

Hatred and Bigotry are learned, they are things that people actively have to teach their children. The most powerful counter to Hatred is simply meeting other people. Our shared humanity proves that we are more similar than we are different. 

(This is beautifully illustrated in a flashback, in which the Survey Corps are infiltrating Marley. They end up meeting a group of foreign refugees, who welcome them into their camp for helping a child. Though the two groups do not speak the same language, they are able to understand each other enough to share in a communal meal and then party the night away. Even when we come from vastly different cultures and don’t speak the same language, we can find common ground. There is a simple joy in how people are people are people, no matter what differences we might have.)

In terms of the problematic elements, I would argue that Isayama did not intend anything Antisemitism about his work. In particular, he frames the allegorical Eldians as sympathetic with most of the cast coming from this group. The story centers on their plight and spends the most time in humanizing them. Ignorance rather than Malice. It taints the work, but also clashes with the major themes of the story. 

Indeed, our common humanity is such an important theme. Hatred and Revenge are empty, only leading to further tragedy. Eren represents those emotions and urges taken to the extreme, and that is ultimately why he becomes the Final Villain of the series. Because he allows hatred to consume him, and loses hope in the world. He can only see “Us vs Them”, and cannot see a path forward that does not involve Genocide. It’s a tragedy that warns us about letting anger consume us, and the dangers of surrendering ourselves to Violence being unavoidable. Eren can see the Future, and therefore he is trapped with the belief that there are no other paths forward. That he must follow in the footsteps of his future self, no matter what. 

It’s an ugly, tragic turn that transforms the series protagonist into a Monster. Into a world-ending monster that his loved ones must now deal with, because they have learned the lessons he did not.

The thing that separates the heroes in this story is Hope, but also a willingness to recognize the futility of revenge and hatred. As the final arcs progress, they are increasingly confronted with the option to look away from atrocities or to take revenge on people. Increasingly, they choose to take a different path.

The story of Sasha and Gabi is central in this particular theme. Sasha kills soldiers that Gabi knew, and attacked her home. But she cannot bring herself to shoot a child, even one that is clearly an enemy. Gabi is a child indoctrinated into Nationalistic, bigoted views. She kills Sasha as an enemy, but then finds her world turned on its head when she accidentally meets Sasha’s family. She’s forced to confront the reality that there are no Monsters and Devils, just ordinary people just like her that have suffered tragedies because of war. 

When given the opportunity for revenge, Sasha’s father refuses. He gives the “Forest” speech, comparing his daughter’s decision to become a soldier in war to letting her go alone into the forest. He accepts her decision and the tragic outcome, but also HIS responsibility as an adult to not pass burdens of Hatred and Revenge on to the next generation. He will not punish Gabi for being a child caught up in war. 

And this becomes an important moment for Gabi and for everyone else. She is not FORGIVEN for her crime, but these people make the conscious choice to spare her. Mikasa shields her from harm, Jean regrets hurting her in anger, they all make the choice to treat Gabi as a CHILD and not a soldier. To recognize their responsibility in doing better than the adults responsible for them. They were Child Soldiers, but they make the choice that the next generation SHOULD NOT be soldiers. 

The series deals heavily in Trauma, especially the ways that War destroys people. The physical, mental, and emotional cost to people are heavily on display throughout the series. The cast have suffered emotional and mental injuries that will never heal, and they struggle with wanting a better world for the next generation.

Children are another big theme. We have the cast start out as children, becoming Child Soldiers, and eventually reaching Adulthood. As they become the adults, we have a new generation introduced in Gabi, Falco, Udo, Sofia, and Kaya. The series gets a little heavy-handed with how Children are the Future, and people have a responsibility to not burden them. To not force their sins upon the children, to not teach them hatred or revenge, to not use them as tools. 

Zeke’s storyline contrasts with Eren’s in that each brother has reached a different conclusion about the central problem. 

Zeke wants to snuff out their own future, preventing more Eldians from being born. Their lives are suffering, so the kindest thing that can be done is to kill them or prevent them from being born. Life is meaningless, because living means suffering. 

Eren takes his hatred to its most extreme, deciding that to protect his “In Group” (the Island of Paradis) that he will destroy everything else. He has taken Dehumanization and Us vs Them mentality to its greatest extreme. He sees no future where people can do better. He refuses to even let them try. He has no hope, he sees only ugliness in the world.

In contrast, we have what has become the alliance. The surviving members of the Survey Corps, the surviving members of the Warriors, and an assortment of people from other nations. A motley group of people of different backgrounds, races and political alliances that are all brought together by a singular belief that the world is worth saving. That it shouldn’t be a Zero Sum game.

That the world is very cruel, but also very beautiful.

Hatred, cruelty, selfishness, greed, militarism, nationalism, imperialism, racism, and bigotry have led the world towards possible destruction. The Rumbling as a metaphor for Nuclear War, humanity destroying itself because it cannot look for a path besides violence.

The pure Destructive urge that is Eren, contrasted against the other two parts of that Golden Trio. 

Mikasa, the girl that was saved by a single act of kindness. The strongest of all, but also so very kind. A girl that has seen the ugliness of the world, but also the goodness in it. 

Armin, the boy with a dream. The intellectual that once asked if it was necessary to abandon your humanity to win, but has realized that our shared humanity is more important. The one filled with hope, even in the darkest moments.

And of course into this, we have Falco Grice. The boy that embodies the central themes of the story: a child soldier that has seen the worst of humanity, and has decided the best way to fight is by being Kind. 

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

The New Nihilism

It feels increasingly difficult to tell the difference between—on one hand—being old, sick, and defeated, and—on the other hand—living in a time-&-place that is itself senile, tired, and defeated. Sometimes I think it’s just me—but then I find that some younger, healthier people seem to be undergoing similar sensations of ennui, despair, and impotent anger. Maybe it’s not just me.

A friend of mine attributed the turn to disillusion with “everything”, including old-fashioned radical/activist positions, to disappointment over the present political regime in the US, which was somehow expected to usher in a turn away from the reactionary decades since the 1980s, or even a “progress” toward some sort of democratic socialism. Although I myself didn’t share this optimism (I always assume that anyone who even wants to be President of the US must be a psychopathic murderer) I can see that “youth” suffered a powerful disillusionment at the utter failure of Liberalism to turn the tide against Capitalism Triumphalism. The disillusion gave rise to OCCUPY and the failure of OCCUPY led to a move toward sheer negation.

However I think this merely political analysis of the “new nothing” may be too two-dimensional to do justice to the extent to which all hope of “change” has died under Kognitive Kapital and the technopathocracy. Despite my remnant hippy flower- power sentiments I too feel this “terminal” condition (as Nietzsche called it), which I express by saying, only half-jokingly, that we have at last reached the Future, and that the truly horrible truth of the End of the World is that it doesn’t end.

One big J.G. Ballard/Philip K. Dick shopping mall from now till eternity, basically.

This IS the future—how do you like it so far? Life in the Ruins: not so bad for the bourgeoisie, the loyal servants of the One Percent. Air-conditioned ruins! No Ragnarok, no Rapture, no dramatic closure: just an endless re-run of reality TV cop shows. 2012 has come and gone, and we’re still in debt to some faceless bank, still chained to our screens.

Most people—in order to live at all—seem to need around themselves a penumbra of “illusion” (to quote Nietzsche again):—that the world is just rolling along as usual, some good days some bad, but in essence no different now than in 10000 BC or 1492 AD or next year. Some even need to believe in Progress, that the Future will solve all our problems, and even that life is much better for us now than for (say) people in the 5th century AD. We live longer thanx to Modern Science—of course our extra years are largely spent as “medical objects”—sick and worn out but kept ticking by Machines & Pills that spin huge profits for a few megacorporations & insurance companies. Nation of Struldbugs.

True, we’re suffocating in the mire generated by our rule of sick machines under the Numisphere of Money. At least ten times as much money now exists than it would take to buy the whole world—and yet species are vanishing space itself is vanishing, icecaps melting, air and water grown toxic, culture grown toxic, landscape sacrificed to fracking and megamalls, noise-fascism, etc, etc. But Science will cure all that ills that Science has created—in the Future (in the “long run”, when we’re all dead, as Lord Keynes put it); so meanwhile we’ll carry on consuming the world and shitting it out as waste—because it’s convenient & efficient & profitable to do so, and because we like it.

Well, this is all a bunch of whiney left-liberal cliches, no? Heard it before a million times. Yawn. How boring, how infantile, how useless. Even if it were all true... what can we do about it? If our Anointed Leaders can’t or won’t stop it, who will? God? Satan? The “People”?

All the fashionable “solutions” to the “crisis”, from electronic democracy to revolutionary violence, from locavorism to solar-powered dingbats, from financial market regulation to the General Strike—all of them, however ridiculous or sublime, depend on one preliminary radical change—a seismic shift in human consciousness. Without such a change all the hope of reform is futile. And if such a change were somehow to occur, no “reform” would be necessary. The world would simply change. The whales would be saved. War no more. And so on.

What force could (even in theory) bring about such a shift? Religion? In 6,000 years of organized religion matters have only gotten worse. Psychedelic drugs in the reservoirs? The Mayan calendar? Nostalgia? Terror?

If catastrophic disaster is now inevitable, perhaps the “Survivalist” scenario will ensue, and a few brave millions will create a green utopia in the smoking waste. But won’t Capitalism find a way to profit even from the End of the World? Some would claim that it’s doing so already. The true catastrophe may be the final apotheosis of commodity fetishism.

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that this paradise of power tools and back-up alarms is all we’ve got & all we’re going to get. Capitalism can deal with global warming—it can sell water-wings and disaster insurance. So it’s all over, let’s say—but we’ve still got television & Twitter. Childhood’s End—i.e. the child as ultimate consumer, eager for the brand. Terrorism or home shopping network—take yr pick (democracy means choice).

Since the death of the Historical Movement of the Social in 1989 (last gasp of the hideous “short” XXth century that started in 1914) the only “alternative” to Capitalist Neo-Liberal totalitarianism that seems to have emerged is religious neo-fascism. I understand why someone would want to be a violent fundamentalist bigot—I even sympathize—but just because I feel sorry for lepers doesn’t mean I want to be one.

When I attempt to retain some shreds of my former antipessimism I fantasize that History may not be over, that some sort of Populist Green Social Democracy might yet emerge to challenge the obscene smugness of “Money Interests”—something along the lines of 1970s Scandinavian monarcho-socialism—which in retrospect now looks the most humane form of the State ever to have emerged from the putrid suck-hole of Civilization. (Think of Amsterdam in its heyday.) Of course as an anarchist I’d still have to oppose it—but at least I’d have the luxury of believing that, in such a situation, anarchy might actually stand some chance of success. Even if such a movement were to emerge, however, we can rest damn-well assured it won’t happen in the USA. Or anywhere in the ghost-realm of dead Marxism, either. Maybe Scotland!

It would seem quite pointless to wait around for such a rebirth of the Social. Years ago many radicals gave up all hope of The Revolution, and the few who still adhere to it remind me of religious fanatics. It might be soothing to lapse into such doctrinaire revolutionism, just as it might be soothing to sink into mystical religion—but for me at least both options have lost their savor. Again, I sympathize with those true believers (although not so much when they lapse into authoritarian leftism or fascism)— nevertheless, frankly, I’m too depressed to embrace their Illusions.

If the End-Time scenario sketched above be considered actually true, what alternatives might exist besides suicidal despair? After much thought I’ve come up with three basic strategies.

1) Passive Escapism. Keep your head down, don’t make waves. Capitalism permits all sorts of “lifestyles” (I hate that word)—just pick one & try to enjoy it. You’re even allowed to live as a dirt farmer without electricity & infernal combustion, like a sort of secular Amish refusnik. Well, maybe not. But at least you could flirt with such a life. “Smoke Pot, Eat Chicken, Drink Tea,” as we used to say in the 60s in the Moorish Church of America, our psychedelic cult. Hope they don’t catch you. Fit yourself into some Permitted Category such as Neo-Hippy or even Anabaptist.

2) Active Escapism. In this scenario you attempt to create the optimal conditions for the emergence of Autonomous Zones, whether temporary, periodic or even (semi)permanent. In 1984 when I first coined the term Temporary Autonomous Zone (TAZ)

I envisioned it as a complement to The Revolution—although I was already, to be truthful, tired of waiting for a moment that seemed to have failed in 1968. The TAZ would give a taste or premonition of real liberties: in effect you would attempt to live as if the Revolution had already occurred, so as not to die without ever having experienced “free freedom” (as Rimbaud called it, liberte libre). Create your own pirate utopia.

Of course the TAZ can be as brief & simple as a really good dinner party, but the true autonomist will want to maximize the potential for longer & deeper experiences of authentic lived life. Almost inevitably this will involve crime, so it’s necessary to think like a criminal, not a victim. A “Johnson” as Burroughs used to say—not a “mark”. How else can one live (and live well) without Work. Work, the curse of the thinking class. Wage slavery. If you’re lucky enough to be a successful artist, you can perhaps achieve relative autonomy without breaking any obvious laws (except the laws of good taste, perhaps). Or you could inherit a million. (More than a million would be a curse.) Forget revolutionary morality—the question is, can you afford your taste of freedom? For most of us, crime will be not only a pleasure but a necessity. The old anarcho-Illegalists showed the way: individual expropriation. Getting caught of course spoils the whole thing—but risk is an aspect of self-authenticity.

One scenario I’ve imagined for active Escapism would be to move to a remote rural area along with several hundred other libertarian socialists—enough to take over the local government (municipal or even county) and elect or control the sheriffs & judges, the parent/teacher association, volunteer fire department and even the water authority. Fund the venture with cultivation of illegal phantastice and carry on a discreet trade. Organize as a “Union of Egoists” for mutual benefit & ecstatic pleasures—perhaps under the guise of “communes” or even monasteries, who cares. Enjoy it as long as it lasts.

I know for a fact that this plan is being worked on in several places in America—but of course I’m not going to say where.

Another possible model for individual escapists might be the nomadic adventurer. Given that the whole world seems to be turning into a giant parking lot or social network, I don’t know if this option remains open, but I suspect that it might. The trick would be to travel in places where tourists don’t—if such places still exist—and to involve oneself in fascinating and dangerous situations. For example if I were young and healthy I’d’ve gone to France to take part in the TAZ that grew around resistance to the new airport—or to Greece—or Mexico—wherever the perverse spirit of rebellion crops up. The problem here is of course funding. (Sending back statues stuffed with hash is no longer a good idea.) How to pay for yr life of adventure? Love will find a way. It doesn’t matter so much if one agrees with the ideals of Tahrir Square or Zucotti Park—the point is just to be there.

3. Revenge. I call it Zarathustra’s Revenge because as Nietzsche said, revenge may be second rate but it’s not nothing. One might enjoy the satisfaction of terrifying the bastards for at least a few moments. Formerly I advocated “Poetic Terrorism” rather than actual violence, the idea being that art could be wielded as a weapon. Now I’ve rather come to doubt it. But perhaps weapons might be wielded as art. From the sledgehammer of the Luddites to the black bomb of the attentat, destruction could serve as a form of creativity, for its own sake, or for purely aesthetic reasons, without any illusions about revolution. Oscar Wilde meets the acte gratuit: a dandyism of despair.

What troubles me about this idea is that it seems impossible to distinguish here between the action of post-leftist anarcho-nihilists and the action of post-rightist neo-traditionalist reactionaries. For that matter, a bomb may as well be detonated by fundamentalist fanatics—what difference would it make to the victims or the “innocent bystanders”? Blowing up a nanotechnology lab—why shouldn’t this be the act of a desperate monarchist as easily as that of a Nietzschean anarchist?

In a recent book by Tiqqun (Theory of Bloom), it was fascinating to come suddenly across the constellation of Nietzsche, Rene Guenon, Julius Evola, et al. as examples of a sharp and just critique of the Bloom syndrome—i.e., of progress-as-illusion. Of course the “beyond left and right” position has two sides—one approaching from the left, the other from the right. The European New Right (Alain de Benoist & his gang) are big admirers of Guy Debord, for a similar reason (his critique, not his proposals).

The post-left can now appreciate Traditionalism as a reaction against modernity just as the neo-traditionalists can appreciate Situationism. But this doesn’t mean that post-anarchist anarchists are identical with post-fascism fascists!

I’m reminded of the situation in fin-de-siecle France that gave rise to the strange alliance between anarchists and monarchists; for example the Cerce Proudhon. This surreal conjunction came about for two reasons: a) both factions hated liberal democracy, and b) the monarchists had money. The marriage gave birth to weird progeny, such as Georges Sorel. And Mussolini famously began his career as an Individualist anarchist!

Another link between left & right could be analyzed as a kind of existentialism; once again Nietzsche is the founding parent here, I think. On the left there were thinkers like Gide or Camus. On the right, that illuminated villain Baron Julius Evola used to tell his little ultra-right groupuscules in Rome to attack the Modern World—even though the restoraton of tradition was a hopeless dream—if only as an act of magical self-creation. Being trumps essence. One must cherish no attachment to mere results. Surely Tiqqun’s advocacy of the “perfect Surrealist act” (firing a revolver at random into a crowd of “innocent by-standers”) partakes of this form of action-as-despair. (Incidentally I have to confess that this is the sort of thing that has always—to my regret—prevented my embracing Surrealism: it’s just too cruel. I don’t admire de Sade, either.)

Of course, as we know, the problem with the Traditionalists is that they were never traditional enough. They looked back at a lost civilization as their “goal” (religion, mysticism, monarchism, arts-&-crafts, etc.) whereas they should have realized that the real tradition is the “primordial anarchy” of the Stone Age, tribalism, hunting/gathering, animism—what I call the Neanderthal Liberation Front. Paul Goodman used the term “Neolithic Conservatism” to describe his brand of anarchism—but “Paleolithic Reaction” might be more appropriate!

The other major problem with the Traditionalist Right is that the entire emotional tone of the movement is rooted in self-repression. Here a rough Reichean analysis suffices to demonstrate that the authoritarian body reflects a damaged soul, and that only anarchy is compatible with real self-realization.

The European New Right that arose in the 90s still carries on its propaganda—and these chaps are not just vulgar nationalist chauvenist anti-semitic homophobic thugs—they’re intellectuals & artists. I think they’re evil, but that doesn’t mean I find them boring. Or even wrong on certain points. They also hate the nanotechnologists!

Although I attempted to set off a few bombs back in the 1960s (against the war in Vietnam) I’m glad, on the whole, that they failed to detonate (technology was never my metier). It saves me from wondering if I would’ve experienced “moral qualms”. Instead I chose the path of the propagandist and remained an activist in anarchist media from 1984 to about 2004. I collaborated with the Autonomedia publishing collective, the IWW, the John Henry Mackay Society (Left Stirnerites) and the old NYC Libertarian Book Club (founded by comrades of Emma Goldman, some of whom I knew, & who are now all dead). I had a radio show on WBAI (Pacifica) for 18 years. I lectured all over Europe and East Europe in the 90s. I had a very nice time, thank you. But anarchism seems even farther off now than it looked in 1984, or indeed in 1958, when I first became an anarchist by reading George Harriman’s Krazy Kat. Well, being an existentialist means you never have to say you’re sorry.

In the last few years in anarchist circles there’s appeared a trend “back” to Stirner/Nietzsche Individualism—because after all, who can take revolutionary anarcho-communism or syndicalism seriously anymore? Since I’ve adhered to this Individualist position for decades (although tempered by admiration for Charles Fourier and certain “spiritual anarchists” like Gustave Landauer) I naturally find this trend agreeable.

“Green anarchists” & AntiCivilization Neo-primitivists seem (some of them) to be moving toward a new pole of attraction, nihilism. Perhaps neo-nihilism would serve as a better label, since this tendency is not simply replicating the nihilism of the Russian narodniks or the French attentatists of circa 1890 to 1912, however much the new nihilists look to the old ones as precursors. I share their critique—in fact I think I’ve been mirroring it to a large extent in this essay: creative despair, let’s call it. What I do not understand however is their proposal—if any. “What is to be done?” was originally a nihilist slogan, after all, before Lenin appropriated it. I presume that my option #1, passive escape, would not suit the agenda. As for Active Escapism, to use the suffix “ism” implies some form not only of ideology but also some action. What is the logical outcome of this train of thought?

As an animist I experience the world (outside Civilization) as essentially sentient. The death of God means the rebirth of the gods, as Nietzsche implied in his last “mad” letters from Turin— the resurrection of the great god PAN—chaos, Eros, Gaia, & Old Night, as Hesiod put it—Ontological anarchy, Desire, Life itself, & the Darkness of revolt & negation—all seem to me as real as they need to be.

I still adhere to a certain kind of spiritual anarchism—but only as heresy and paganism, not as orthodoxy and monotheism. I have great respect for Dorothy Day—her writing influenced me in the 60s—and Ivan Illich, whom I knew personally—but in the end I cannot deal with the cognitive dissonance between anarchism and the Pope! Nevertheless I can believe in the re-paganaziation of monotheism. I hold to this pagan tradition because I sense the universe as alive, not as “dead matter.” As a life-long psychedelicist I have always thought that matter & spirit are identical, and that this fact alone legitimizes what Theory calls “desire”.

From this p.o.v. the phrase “revolution of everyday life” still seems to have some validity—if only in terms of the second proposal, Active Escapism or the TAZ. As for the third possibility— Zarathustra’s Revenge—this seems like a possible path for the new nihilism, at least from a philosophical perspective. But since I am unable personally to advocate it, I leave the question open.

But here—I think—is the point at which I both meet with & diverge from the new nihilism. I too seem to believe that Predatory Capitalism has won and that no revolution is possible in the classical sense of that term. But somehow I can’t bring myself to be “against everything.” Within the Temporary Autonomous Zone there still seems to persist the possibility of “authentic life,” if only for a moment—and if this position amounts to mere Escapism, then let us become Houdini. The new surge of interest in Individualism is obviously a response to the Death of the Social. But does the new nihilism imply the death even of the individual and the “union of egoists” or Nietzschean free spirits? On my good days, I like to think not.

No matter which of the three paths one takes (or others I can’t yet imagine) it seems to me that the essential thing is not to collapse into mere apathy. Depression we may have to accept, impotent rage we may have to accept, revolutionary pessimism we may have to accept. But as e.e. cummings (anarchist poet) said, there is some shit we will not take, lest we simply become the enemy by default. Can’t go on, must go on. Cultivate rosebuds, even selfish pleasures, as long as a few birds & flowers still remain. Even love may not be impossible...

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen: ‘There is a moment of possibility to build back better’

The actor now uses his Hollywood cash to fund his passion for activism. Sheen reveals why he revels in spending money on the things that matter and why he has hope for the post-Covid future

Michael Sheen, activist and actor. It is in that order these days. And he’s doing rather well in both spheres. He has spent the last few years trying to find a way to balance his twin passions. And, he says, he is slowly getting there.  

“A big part of it was shifting things in my head and knowing what the priorities were,” says the 51-year-old.

“I made the shift psychologically to go, right, the acting work and everything that comes with that is going to support the other stuff I’m doing.  

“So even though to the outside world, maybe it wouldn’t seem like it – because I’ve been doing lots of acting work and things that have kept the profile up and all that –  from my point of view, the priority has been different. Now the acting work fits in around the other stuff.”

That ‘other stuff’ involves supporting the Homeless World Cup and the fight to expand access to affordable credit, campaigning to get the right to a good home enshrined in law in Wales and combating loneliness with the Great Winter Get Together (an idea inspired by the late MP Jo Cox). Then there’s working with Social Enterprise UK, for whom he is a patron alongside The Big Issue’s Lord Bird, helping local journalism and communities get access to trustworthy information, publicising and supporting both foodbanks and theatres and fighting period poverty.  

It’s a heady and righteous cocktail of vital causes. And it takes up a lot of Sheen’s time. With the Covid pandemic of 2020, and Brexit around the corner, he feels his activism is going to be more important than ever in 2021.

“Everything that was happening before Covid came along which has been exacerbated,” says Sheen. “So it’s not like issues I was focused on beforehand – around homelessness and high-cost credit – are going away.

“We’re bracing ourselves for it getting a lot harder and more people being involved. The work that was going on pre–pandemic is going to get even more pressured. Because when you look into anything around poverty and inequality before the pandemic, the fallout from the way Universal Credit was being rolled out was having a massive effect. Well, there’s going to be a lot more people on Universal Credit now.”  

But Sheen also sees this as a moment to seize, a chance to rebuild society anew, a period that is packed with potential.  

“We saw what was possible around homelessness during the pandemic, where people were able to get off the streets and were put into accommodation and given support that wasn’t there before,” he says.  

“That has made a lot of people think. If that’s possible during a pandemic when people are really motivated, then why can’t it happen afterwards as well? Why does it take a pandemic to do it? We have seen that the fact there are still people living on the street is a political choice.

“So while we are bracing ourselves for really challenging times, that’s balanced out by a sense that there’s the chance to build up from the ground again. How do we reimagine who we are and how we live and how we work together? The status quo wasn’t working. So we have to innovate, we have to reimagine, we have to reinvent – there is a moment of possibility to build back better.”

He is on a roll. He sounds like a politician. A good politician. With that rich, sonorous voice rising as he advocates a new way of living, a new vision for society. He compares the imminent, we hope, post-Covid moment to the situation facing the post-war Attlee government. 

“When you go through a big, nation–changing event, which this has been, there’s the opportunity to reimagine a different relationship between the state and society and between us as a community,” he continues. “To see how communities have pulled together gives you a new awareness of who we are and what we can be. We can rebuild our nation in the light of that.  

“There won’t always be that window of opportunity. We’ll go in a new direction and a new status quo will emerge. Let’s hope it can be a fairer one.”

But Sheen is not just about ideas for a brighter future for Wales, the UK, and beyond. He’s also at the top of the acting profession. And we’ve seen a lot of him in 2020.  

There was his brilliant, uncanny, portrayal of Chris Tarrant in Quiz back in March – the memorable pop-cultural drama-doc which drew a massive lockdown audience to its exploration of the infamous, scandalous, did-they-didn’t-they ‘cheat’ storm on ITV’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire – shedding light on the inventive, pre-internet ways WWTBAM fans across the country hooked up to game their way onto the show.

Sheen was – not for the first time in a career that has seen him portray with such skill a diverse crowd of famous names, including Brian Clough (The Damned United), Kenneth Williams (Fantabulosa), Tony Blair (The Deal, The Queen and The Special Relationship), and David Frost (in Frost/Nixon) – utterly, bewilderingly believable as Tarrant and the three-part series, aired over consecutive nights, was genuine event television.

Then, when it became clear this pandemic and these lockdowns weren’t going anywhere fast, Sheen joined forces with his Good Omens co-star David Tennant to make Staged – the first, and perhaps only show to capture the tedium, the disconnectedness, the discombobulation of lockdown life.  

With the big–name actors playing heightened versions of themselves – Sheen pompous, cultured, guzzling wine, Tennant eager to please, upbeat, hapless – it was a roaring success on iPlayer.

“David is very different to what you see in the series in real life,” says Sheen. “But although I’d like to say I’m different to the version of me in Staged, that’s pretty much what I’m like.”

The surprise second series of Staged catches up with Sheen and Tennant (or should that be Tennant and Sheen?) a few months down the line.  

“We knew the series was very easy to do, filming it at home on a laptop – or that even if we went back to a more normal life again and were working elsewhere, we could film it anywhere,” says Sheen.  

“And by the time we came to the second series, it was different. Even though we were still spending a lot of time at home, the second series was during a period where everybody, including David and I, were trying to go back to do things. Then the rules kept changing.  

“So you never quite knew whether what was going to happen from day to day. The second series reflects that. But obviously, going back to work and trying to go back to normal is very different from me and David than they are for a lot of people – so we were aware that had to be dealt with as well, because never wanted it to be about two poncey actors and their lives. We wanted to find a way to do it so that people could still identify with it.”

This year, Sheen, like most of us, has spent more time at home. He has, he says, enjoyed catching fewer planes, appreciated his friends and extended family more than ever, raced through five series of Line of Duty and been wowed by Normal People, starting his way down Schitt’s Creek but still found little time to read novels (“I’ve asked for a few from Father Christmas”).  

Because if he does find time to read, it is usually research on housing, on fighting poverty, on rebuilding the broken or the out-of-control housing market, alongside the occasional script.

But if 2020 has been about anything for Sheen, is has been about spending time with his baby daughter Lyra.

“When we went into that first lockdown in March, she was only five months old,” he says.  

“So our focus has been her this whole time. Really our experiences wouldn’t have been massively different. The main overwhelming part of our experience of the last year has been having a baby, as opposed to Covid. And I know I’m very fortunate to be able to say that. But anyone who’s had a baby knows that that just takes up all your bandwidth.

“They give you structure, don’t they? A reason to get up in the morning. A lot of people have said it is difficult getting motivated to do stuff – but that’s not an issue when you’ve got a little one, is it? So I have got very used to being in the house. I even got to do two seasons of a TV show from my kitchen, which is pretty nice…”

Michael Sheen on the legacy of the Homeless World Cup in Wales

In the summer of 2019, Cardiff hosted the Homeless World Cup. As the football tournament, featuring players from around the world, all of whom were experiencing homelessness, kicked off, we knew Michael Sheen had played a huge role in bringing the event to Wales.

What didn’t emerge until later was that, when some promised funding failed to emerge, Sheen was faced with a choice between sinking more than £1m of his own money into making it happen or cancelling the event.

He paid. They played.

It was a triumph and will last long in the memory. So how does Sheen feel now about it?

“It is an extraordinary event that happens every year,” he says. “It was going to be in Finland this year, which I was really looking forward to – because Finland has been quite pioneering in the Housing First strategy and I was looking forward to being able to find out more about that. But I still feel the way I did before – and what motivated me to try and make it happen here in Wales is that it is life-changing for people and can be a transformative experience in all kinds of ways.

“For some people who take part in it, it has an immediate effect. And for others, it may be years later that the effects of it manifest in their life. But that was why I was so committed to being a part of making that happen.

“A lot of the motivation for us in Wales was about what it could act as a platform for afterwards. And that has been affected by the Covid crisis, because a lot of the legacy work we were doing was unable to move forward in the way we’d hoped because of all the restrictions. But what I learned and discovered during that period has made a massive difference to me and the work I’m doing around homelessness.

“The relationships we developed through that time with support service organisations, the people I met and the insights I got into what people are struggling with and what would help were invaluable. It’s been a huge thing for me. I’m still paying for it. So that still affects my life as well, obviously, and things that I’m doing.

“But my acting work is there to support the other stuff. I’m putting money into things constantly, even though I still owe money to do with the Homeless World Cup. So until the time comes when I’m not able to earn money in the same way, then I’ll keep on spending it on the things that matter to me.”

[rpgsandbox]

Working alongside Skydance Television and the incredible team behind the hit Netflix TV series, we’re excited to immerse you in the neon-drenched cyberpunk sandbox of Altered Carbon with our official tabletop RPG.

In this transhumanist vision of the future, the human mind is nothing more than digital code – Digital Human Freight – saved and stored in a Cortical Stack, advanced technology that allows you to “re-sleeve” your entire consciousness into a new body. You can wear any body you can afford, transmit your mind across the cosmos in an instant, and, if you’ve got the credits and political cachet, you can re-sleeve time and again for centuries, accumulating enough wealth and power over the millennia to become the societal equivalent of an immortal god.

“Reality is so flexible these days, it’s hard to tell who’s disconnected from it and who isn’t. You might even say it’s a pointless distinction.”

Whereas character death is a natural occurrence and ever-present threat in tabletop RPGs, Altered Carbon: The Role Playing Game offers a unique angle on the concept. As opposed to creating a brand new character, players will have the opportunity to transfer their character’s consciousness, memories, and experiences into new Sleeves post-death… but at a cost.

Mind you, immortality is not invincibility. Losing a Sleeve is a life-altering setback, and “Real Death” awaits anyone whose Stack is destroyed. That being said, Sleeves introduce their own refreshing challenges to players and storytellers alike. Augmentations can instantly upgrade your athleticism, but a world-class surgeon in an unadjusted Sleeve can botch a basic procedure. The possibilities for characters and campaigns may change from one Sleeve to the next… making long-term gameplay more versatile, while empowering the story to steer character advancement at its own pace.

Bay City is divided into three major territories – the Ground, the Twilight, and the Aerium – each a world of its own; ruled by different kinds of people, playing games for different kinds of stakes.

The Ground: The underclass — known as “grounders” due to their inability to inhabit the skyscrapers as residents or personnel — continues to soar in numbers. Grounders are satiated with automated dispensed foodstuffs, public housing, and a neon-soaked parade of carnal pleasures. On paper, the features of the city seem almost Utopian, but the majority serves only as cheap labor for the vast bureaucracies of the Protectorate and the Meths whose own lives are glittering paradises in comparison to the empty, endless grind of the greater population.

The Twilight: A razor thin middle class serves as administration, managers, and highly skilled technicians to service the various technological marvels of society and its endlessly expansive bureaucracies. These skilled individuals are said to inhabit The Twilight, somewhere between the darkness of grounder society and the dazzling brightness of the high life of meth aristocracy. Most aren’t far removed from some criminal element, either by choice, close relation, or the occasional contractor through one of their shell corporations. You’ll scarcely find a programmer who hasn’t moonlighted as a “Dipper” at some point. Most dabble with decadence or crime (often the white-collar variety), if only to search for some form of existential purpose... The extra money doesn’t hurt either.

The Aerium: This network of skyscrapers is the domain of the meths exclusively. Their towers pierce the sky by several times in height the normal skyscrapers of Bay City. Each tower has the luxury of supporting a multitude of sprawling estates, all free and far above the need to see the rabble below, the unseen underclasses toiling under permanent cloud cover. Only specifically registered air vehicles and police aircars are permitted to fly anywhere near this complex. The much vaunted Suntouch House is part of this complex.

The core edition of Altered Carbon: The Role Playing Game takes place on Sol (Earth) in the year 2384. With the help of a gamemaster (GM), you and your friends can create your own stories and Sleeves in Bay City, the futuristic Californian metropolis that serves as the main setting of the first book and Season 1 of the Netflix series.

The human eye is a wonderful device. With a little effort, it can fail to see even the most glaring injustice.

Take control of police, military, technicians, artificial intelligence (A.I.), special operatives (CTAC), and even the influential elite of high society (Meths) as the core neo-noir themes of Altered Carbon promise endless sci-fi adventures:

Mystery — Solve the unfolding mystery. The gamemaster themselves may not even know who the culprit is at the beginning of the story!

Intrigue — Augments and re-sleeving don’t come without their own costs. Story-driven mechanics challenge players to balance their personal egos and baggage, influencing how players interact with one another and how their characters develop over time.

Action — An original game engine uniquely designed for the RPG, delivering a strategic yet dynamic zone-based combat system with exotic high-tech weaponry and streamlined options for more action-oriented gameplay!

Drama — The twisted reality of transhumanity enables players to create challenging stories, complex characters, and century-spanning epics, all which explore the darkest aspects of human nature that the value of life and fear of death once held in check. When murder is little more than extreme property damage, transhumanity is the perfect playground for noir storytelling that delves into the moral depths of our own humanity.

Working in tandem with Skydance Entertainment, we're able to provide a deeper dive into the world of Altered Carbon. As a result, we're expanding on elements of lore, and the colonized worlds that previously we unexplored until now!

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Tee2_LgSiUPM4arGX6-IE5pIpre7Q0LF

                                     Click for a clean Character Sheet

The Core Rulebook contains everything gamemasters and players needs to play the game.

Building a Neo-Noir Narrative. Build an authentic noir experience with a multi-layered mystery that unravels over time. Plot twists, MacGuffins, red herrings, and informants all provide the ever-adjusting structure you need to bring mystery and intrigue to your players without the need to pre-plan every detail at the start.

Starting Adventures. Enjoy two complementary modules designed to teach you everything you need to know to run the game and teach players the Hazard System.

Creating a Character. Ready to jack in? Pick an archetype: Civilian, Socialite, Official, Criminal, Technician, or Soldier. Generate core attributes like Strength, Perception, Empathy, Willpower, Acuity, and Intelligence. Game elements like Stack Points, Health Points, Ego Points, and Influence Points help flesh out your characters and determine how they perform and progress through the story.

Baggage. Your time in Altered Carbon takes its toll, as damage to your ego builds up over the years… as do the ghosts of your past deeds from sleeve to sleeve.

Variant Characters. Explore a range of unique playable and non-playable characters such as artificial intelligence beings, envoy soldiers, and high-class meths.

Re-sleeving. The body is merely a shell, and death is not the final destination. Each Sleeve comes with its own strengths and shortcomings. An impossible task in one Sleeve may be child’s play in another. Meanwhile, your enemy could be wearing your friend’s sleeve, so use your intuition and ingenuity to observe the details, break through the obvious, seek out new solutions, and stay alive.

Tons of Traits. Tier-based Trait system allows you to easily build your own Archetypes or assign a set of unique abilities that complement one of our pre-set character builds, with plenty of crossover options so that no two Archetypes are really the same.

Wealth Level Based Economy. Rather than nickel & dime every transaction, players can acquire gear and supplies adjacent (or above — if they’re willing to risk greater consequences) to their Wealth Level in order to keep the focus on story momentum.

Technology & Equipment. Nemex, Shard Pistols, Portable AI Emitters, ONI Interfaces, Merge9; the Core Rulebook provides all the mechanics for purchasing, acquiring, and modifying a plethora of futuristic weapons, apparel, and gadgetry with an expansive list of customizations for nearly every item.

Expanding the Altered Carbon World. While the Core Rulebook focuses on Bay City and Season 1 of the series, we’ve got big plans with Skydance who is currently in production for Season 2, and we'll be working alongside them to discover more ways to explore the colonized worlds in future RPG supplements. In the meantime, fans can explore Osaka and other parts of Earth 2384 via our stretch goal modules listed below.

Altered Carbon: The Role Playing Game will employ the Hazard System – a brand new game system that finds inspiration in popular engines like the Cortex System, Savage Worlds, and Outbreak: Undead.. all while delivering unique gameplay specifically designed for this RPG.

SKILL DICE: Actions are done using an appropriate die type depending on your level of skill.

Which are rolled against a Target Result (TR) assigned by the GM or Scenario:

12+ - Trivial

10-11 - Easy

9-10 - Normal

7-8 - Tricky

5-6 - Challenging

3-4 - Complicated

0-2 - Nearly Impossible

With success determined by rolling EQUAL TO OR UNDER the Target Result. The difference between the result and the TR are the degrees of success/failure generated.

Natural (rolled) 1's are considered an “Ace” - and always succeed with a flourish.

Besides the basics of rolling equal to or under the Target Result, the Hazard System provides a list of easy-to-apply modifiers that will help to quickly and contextually flush out a scene.

Bonus Dice: Players can be awarded Bonus Dice, which can be of any Die Type. Bonus Die results can take the best results (serves as an advantage).

Luck Dice: When luck plays a factor on the outcome (for better or worse), Luck Dice of any Die Type may add to Skill Check Results. Even players with D4s as Skills may fail if luck turns against them. Luck can even displace Difficulty altogether in the right situation.

Example:

Christopher is trying going toe to toe with an off-world assassin in a synthetic Sleeve but decides the fight is a little outside of his league — so he wants to escape. He could simply dart away, in which the GM will ask him for an Athletics - 5 (challenging) roll. He has a D10 in athletics so its reasonable. Or he could use a chaff bomb, which will disrupt the synthetics sensors and maybe cover his tracks. That just requires a Throw - 10 (easy), and even with a D12 that shouldn't be a problem... shouldn't...

Since all dice can roll low, there is ALWAYS a chance of success.

=========================================================

Kickstarter campaign ends: Wed, March 4 2020 6:03 AM UTC +00:00

Website: [Hunters Books] [facebook] [twitter]

[unikornu]

Man now I wanna talk bosses, what do you think of the Nuka World bosses? What does Lucy think?

Alright, let’s go (i will swear a bit and not go fully serious all the time). I won’t push theories either, just some thoughts based on my oc personality and so on.

Nisha: 

Lucy: “Oh just kill that fucker already, instead of surviving you are just making a mess.”

She doesn’t have respect for killers like her. If you want to kill someone just do it fast and be done with it. The fact that her and disciples suck pleasure from just pure torturing their victims is a sin even for her and comparing her with other bosses she seems to just kill for killing, nothing else, pure  psychopathic cut-throat like she is described. Also you can read a lot from ones eyes and face expression and with her and the rest its impossible since they hide behind their masks all the time, Lucy hates it when she cannot read other people since you can easily fake your voice tone. Their base is a mess, the way they fight is a mess and she cannot really understand what aside from murderding is her goal. She is also very proud and confident in herself person, thinking she is the best one out there and the only thing stopping her from being a boss herself is some remaining feeling of decency for some base rules that has been made between gangs but she doesn’t deny there weren’t accidents. But being like that is something that doesn’t really adds to “trust” feeling of Lucy towards her, especially threatening her from the very start is already a taunt for future fight. Besides i don’t believe Nisha wouldn’t actually change her mind and put all rules aside at some point anyway, its just the way she is. Despite her past and her parents being killed by the raider who took her under his wing and then abandoned Lucy just cannot dig out any sympathy towards her. She is a killer too but she killed for money or to shake some political corrupted figures, not because she had pleasure in it. Job has to be done and that’s it. Nisha is probably an example of going even deeper into the darker side that Lucy wouldn’t want to end up with so she decides to destroy her in the end. 

Me, personally, Unicornu - she has an interesting concept but i just never got to like her for some reason, no matter how many times i did nuka world, if they would add some remaining “humanity” under that psycho skin maybe. P.s Dixie is even worse than her i think, jezzus. Savoy seems cool but he is like a dog there, just following orders and probably getting a free fuck on a way. Theres not much about him but i know someone who wrote a whole pieces with him - which is: nuka-after-dark.  

Mags Black:

Lucy: “She’s ok, i like the way she works but she could lose that broom from her ass and live a little”

Now now, Operators and their place is what brushes Lucy the right way, bringing some memories from pre-war. They are a bit stiff and fancy but it doesn’t disturb her as long as Mags goals stay on making the caps and bringing more deals into the Nuka Town. Let’s state it, Lucy also likes money, cash and riches. You know how they say that money won’t bring you happiness but she would rather cry in a nice expensive car. Something like this. Anyway, Mags along with her brother and Lizzie had crime in their nature from the very young age and they seem a bit more normal in their approach as oppose to Nisha. They are organized, they don’t go openly into the conflict and always gather a lot of data. For Lucy this is the best and right approach and choosing her as the leading gang in her opinion will benefit the Nuka World most in terms of caps. I’m sure she wouldn’t even mind losing the collars on traders if that would mean bringing more tourists. After the powering plant, Mags having a talk about just accepting your nature slides into her like a hot knife in a butter. Lucy was denying herself at early age that there is some justice left and she could bring it the harmless way but she got wronged and understood the corruption will crawl on everyone anyway and the only way to survive out there is to accepting your true nature so she can relate to that in a way. The only time Mags is annoying her is her stiffness and coldness as oppose to Lucy who likes to loose breaks from time to time, keeps the mind more relaxed. She would convince her to organize some “party” at Parlor but its still so official and boring that to make things more fun people just end up beating each other.

My opinion: Like i said in tags before, i don’t believe she wanted to be a raider but because parents did cut them from money and they were always being pulled towards crime, having no regrets there was no place for them in Commonwealth so to survive they created a gang. Npc’s always say like Mags, William and Lizzie don’t seem like born into this life but they still do hell of a job so that would also point that they didn’t choose to be raiders but what other choice they had. They want money and they will get it one way or another and i kind of like it. At least Mags has some holotapes and backstory so i can hang on to her better in a way.

Mason The Alpha:

Lucy: “He said he isn’t my friend after all i did but i’m sure he has my back anyway, as long as i stand tall and confident” 

Lucy has a lot of respect in the way he holds his gang along with his position. As oppose to Nisha and Mags even if its not visible i’m sure he needs to keep himself one way or another on top while constantly dealing with other raiders questioning him and trying to get a throne for themselves either by fighting him or trying to poison him or something, and that my friend needs some balls. She doesn’t believes Mason is stupid. He must have known some psychology and read a lot of books about human society and animal ladder kingdom to get where he got aside from pushing all his effort into building muscles. As oppose to Mags he knows how to have fun and surely loves parties in the theater.  And as oppose to Nisha also has more focus on job being done rather than making a mess. He keeps his place clean, despite being full of animals, she notices it (as oppose to some bloody ass disciples butcher cave). Lucy knows behind all that paint and bones lies a curious and smart man who chose the life he chose for one reason or another, that is not known but maybe once she gets his full trust and support he shall open that big hairy chest of his and share his secret (i won’t come with a theory on my own yet). The only problem she would have with Mason is the constant thought of keeping her looks on point, strong and confident, otherwise she fears he will start questioning her position and smell some weakness so to have a loyalty of the Pack she needs to always be on a good terms with Mason but her playful part of nature only helps with that. He and his gang are best suited for taking over settlements and fighting in general, they are brave, strong, fierce and just charge onward, no regrets or second thoughts whatsoever, and that howling on a battlefield, man. Sure would send some shivers. But Lucy keeps them as the second in charge gang because the profit and caps are still more important and she prefers to keep business organized and clean without scaring the tourists and traders.  

My opinion: Now that’s how you make a cool npc. He is strong, funny, confident and keeps to some base unbreakable rules. Pretty balanced, my only complain is again about lack of backstory. Like wouldn’t be it interesting finding some notes or Mason diary how he just puts on a show and really is actually fucking soft and calm man. And he did tarred and feathered other alphas because he read about it in a book again and that made him avoid the killing or something. Its hard to say but he is interesting and i would love to find out more.  

So shortly what Lucy thinks at the end in a goofy way:

Nisha <-- has to go, proud and dangerous as hell, trust is no option, hides face all the time and will try to kill her no matter what. Dislikes her methods and the way she kills. Her cave is a fucking mess and that doesn’t help at all.

Mags <--- good approach, caps, caps, caps and fancy shit, keeps the town organized, has a lot of secrets gathered on terminal, can trust her later on, a bit stiff but that’s bearable. And she has Lizzie with who she makes friends. William has a crush on Lucy. Family full of fancy bitches. Lucy’s one herself so yeah...

Mason <--- respectable as hell, sure smart but hides it, unbreakable and fierce at the battlefield, cool paint, best buddy to drink and party, sure has some cool pre-war furry scarfs in the backstage, loves to have him around for protection, like a big older brother, squishing Gage if he hurts her feelings. Wishes to gets his full trust at some point and gain his friendship but that might be against his rules.

[hwallout]

our little secret (ii) - csy

summary: as a CEO of one of the country’s most powerful companies, you had your secrets to success. no one ever gained power without ruthless, filthy and unfair play, it’s all okay if no one knows right? well, what happens when your little secrets fall into the hands of someone you can’t get rid of that easily?

words: 4,8k

genre: angst, drama, future smut

warnings: language

early an: hi im sorry for the wait, it’s been a tough ride these last two weeks. hopefully, this was worth it <3 also our company now has a name yay! feedback is appreciated again, thank you for reading! 

[part one]

[part three]

[part four]

You thought about the whole situation in the upcoming days. Hayoon was right; Seungyoun wasn’t someone you could simply have killed and then bribe the police to throw the case under the mat. You thought that it could be an easy job, something that demanded just a little bit of planning and a lot more money to get done – only if wasn’t for one other factor.

The actual problem wasn’t Seungyoun, he was just one link in an endless chain. What you were most worried about was his father. Mr.Cho was a man who played the same game and used similar tactics to yours. It was his alliances, connections (that you knew the number of was way bigger than yours) that actually held you back from actively acting upon the issue.

No matter how much money you put into the country’s best hitmen, Mr. Cho would have you found out – it was just the fact that he could always be a step ahead of you. Experience played a big part in this game of monopoly. There were only so many of the best assassins in this country that it often happened two opposing sides hired the same person. The only matter was just how much money was offered to keep a secret hidden.

What you were thankful for though, was the fact that Seungyoun and his father never had the strongest of trust bonds. For years now, you’ve been listening to media exaggerating Seungyoun’s wishes of pursuing music instead of business. They would skyrocket every type of misbehavior from the younger, often saying how he wanted to sabotage his father by not showing up on important meetings or being rude to the representatives from other companies.  

On the other hand, many articles wrote about the fact that the deals Seungyoun agreed to ended up being the most profitable for the Cho enterprise. His father, though, would never admit to Seungyoun’s involvement, usually saying that he was there to learn, not to make decisions.

Mr. Cho was always hesitant about leaving work to Seungyoun, despite all of his positive attributes, purely because of the other’s undying wish to pursue music. The CEO was so unsure, even though his son wasn’t a child anymore, that he was anywhere near ready to take over the main position. He doubted everything, nitpicked every little mistake and often deemed him unprofessional.  

Seungyoun probably thought that with this information, he has secured the most legitimate and safe deal for his father. Maybe Seungyoun thought that it was his role to somewhat guard the whole situation, to prevent you from screwing Mr.Cho over and favoring yourself too much in the whole project. You couldn’t blame the younger, for he wanted to for once do satisfactory work for the older.  

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), due to the bumpy history, it was easy to conclude that his daddy would never believe him so easily. Although pitiful, that was the strongest knot you could hold onto to still have a chance in this fight.

Although it always happened, you hoped that somehow this time it wouldn’t. Celebration parties were something INVICTA planned whenever an important deal was signed. Considering that you’d always invite the employees and the CEO of the other corporation, there would consistently be a lot to do and talk about. The workers found it a way to meet new people and have a night out in a formal setting – while you thought it was a great time to discuss any important matters or just get to know your associates better.

This time though, you were very iffy about it. The planning and invitations were prolonged up until Hayoon confidently came up to the office and (respectfully) ushered you to hurry up. The employees are looking forward to the celebration, she’d say. Oh, how you wished to brush the smaller off with a who cares, but truthfully, it was you. The staff in this company were very important and respected. You grew up with the mindset that lower in position didn’t mean lower as a person, therefore such replies weren't anywhere near moral.

Not long after, you got to work, reserving a beautiful and fancy restaurant for Friday night, hiring a great soloist to sing live and sending invitations to everyone in the company as well as to Mr. Cho.  

Consequently, there you were, walking up the stairs to the entrance, looking like a princess. Dark blue high heels hit the marble surface in an even rhythm, a beautiful dress of the same shade falling graciously behind you. It was a perfect fit, not too tight, but still deliciously hugging every part of your body. The dress was shorter at the front, with lace covering its hem. Your back was exposed, the V cut dipping as low, while the front exposed just enough cleavage to run one’s imagination wild.

Interestingly enough, you weren’t alone tonight.

The one holding your hand carefully and leading you up the stairs was a guy named Seungwoo. His suit of choice matched yours, a completely dark blue suit paired up with a black shirt underneath and black dress shoes. The first couple of buttons were unbuttoned, showcasing just the smallest glimpse of his chest tattoo.  

You’ve known Seungwoo for quite a while now, the male being one of your dearest friends. It wasn’t a surprise when he was asked to be your +1 for tonight, not only but mostly because you needed someone close to be there.

It was expected that the guests would notice your entrance, but it wasn't quite anticipated that every single pair of eyes would be locked on you. Most females ogled Seungwoo’s appearance, tall, with his slicked-back black hair, broad shoulders and tiny waist, while men drank your own appearance up. And of course, so did Seungyoun.

The male somehow managed to spot Mr. Cho before you did, leading the way towards the elder confidently. When only a few steps away, Seungwoo made sure you were okay alone, before excusing himself for a quick minute. You looked after as he walked away, noticing all the stares he was getting while being so effortlessly breathtaking.  

“Your boyfriend seems to be the life of the party too,” Mr. Cho said, his tone warm and welcoming. The other seemed to approach you quietly, for his presence went by unnoticed before he spoke. You bowed politely, bidding a polite greeting, before taking a second to process said words. A look of confusion washed over your features, for you weren’t sure what to reply with. Did it even matter?

Suddenly, Seungyoun stepped forwards from behind his father, making his presence known with a fake cough and slight bow. Seungyoun looked you up and down, but the emotion in his beautiful features didn’t change – blank, unmoved, much like always.

“Yeah, he really does” You smiled, choosing to once again look in the direction Seungwoo disappeared in, purely for a more convincing effect. At that moment, explaining that the mentioned male wasn’t your boyfriend appeared to be way too much effort; white lies never hurt anyone, right?

Except, you missed the way Seungyoun frowned at the reply, his tongue prodding at the left cheek right after.  

“It’s very nice of You to honor Your achievements with a celebration for everyone. This is a very enjoyable event, thank You for inviting us” Mr. Cho continued, taking a sip of white wine from his glass. He watched all of the employees from the Cho enterprise having fun, talking and dancing with both their coworkers but also your own people. Smiles were evident on their faces and everyone seemed to be enjoying their time.

“We should look up to this” Unfortunately, Seungyoun wasn’t paying any attention, nodding along but not really hearing what the elder had said. What he focused on were your eyes that skimmed over everyone, a small smile of satisfaction playing on your lips. Maybe there were moments when your strictness surfaced, but you loved when employees were content. That is exactly why this company was one of the strongest.

The words died out, awkward silence filled the small space. Investments, projects, plans, expectations, hesitations, so, so many topics, but no one made any effort to begin the conversation. Maybe for once, you needed to take a break from such routines and go have fun.

Fortunately, as if ordered, the doors to the restaurant opened again, revealing yet another beautiful pair. It was your assistant Eunha and her fiancée Jacob. Both of them were dressed in matching colors, looking like the most alluring people on Earth. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that Eunha was the most charming female tonight.

Using the instance to escape the building awkwardness, you excused yourself and hurried towards the two. Eunha’s face lit up immediately upon noticing a breathtaking princess approaching, beaming at just how astonishing her boss looked.  

Jacob was the first one to bow, with you following quickly after, happy to finally see the fiancé Eunha constantly blabbered about. She only ever talked highly about the man and was always extremely happy to hear the news of a +1 for any event. Unfortunately, the other seemed to be a busy man, for he has never been able to accompany his fiancée – up until today.

“Miss! You look absolutely prepossessing tonight” Eunha said, eyes roaming over your body quick. She spoke with a wide smile and stars in her eyes, a clear indicator that the words were a hundred percent sincere. The assistant was never hard to read, emotions always showing on her features without any filter. Maybe that’s exactly why she has been chosen for the job.

You offered an honest smile in return and complimented the female back with equally as warm words, before turning towards the other. Jacob looked at you with expectant but also excited eyes as you offered one hand out for a handshake.

“Ah, I suppose You’re Jacob, right?” The male nodded along, accepting the handshake with a tight grip, “I’ve heard a lot of nice things about You, it’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet You”. Jacob listened to the words carefully, immediately turning towards his fiancée upon processing what you have said. Eunha only shied away, hands coming up to cup her cheeks that were turning the same shade as her red dress.

“I’ve also heard a lot of nice things about You too, Miss. Thank You for inviting us” Jacob spoke and you smirked at the formal tone the man was trying to use. Nodding along, you patted him on the shoulder, having to slightly lift up your arm to reach the height. Telling the pair to go and have some fun, enjoy the night, you distanced away from them and found purchase on one of the empty chairs in the corner.

With a wine glass in hand, you once again scanned over the huge room. Instantly, a familiar tall man dressed in dark blue caught your attention. Seungwoo was talking to one of your employees, a girl who you couldn’t quite remember the name of, but knew quite well as a hardworking and persistent person. They were pretty close, both smiling at each other while taking sips of their own drinks.

“He’s not your boyfriend” You suddenly heard someone’s voice from close proximity. Startled and suddenly shaken out of daze, you jumped in place, almost spilling the blood-red liquid. On your right, maybe about one step away, Seungyoun stood leaned on the wall. The male held his chin high, not really looking at you as he spoke. Seungyoun’s lips formed a frown as he locked eyes at one point, but from your position, it wasn’t possible to conclude what exactly caused it.

“Why does it matter if he is or isn’t?” The answer came out harsher than intended.

“It doesn’t. I’m just saying you’re horrible at lying” What is one supposed to reply to such a statement? The other was obviously wrong, for lying was a skill one has to master before becoming a powerful businessman. Negotiations were always a balance between lies and truths. Everyone is trying to protect their own interests, it’s only normal.

“Keep that in mind” Seungyoun whispered, although this time much quieter than last.

Remaining silent, your eyes fell down to look at the finger that traced the rim of thin glass. You understood quite well what the other was trying to do, how he was approaching the topic. Seungyoun was trying to keep you on a leash, using his knowledge to actively threaten you to be a good girl. On the other side, Seungyoun probably wasn’t aware of how big the consequences of his actions could be, and you blamed it on inexperience.

“Don’t you think that you’re putting your nose into the whole thing way too much?” You bit back, still not glancing up at the male. Currently, the attention was dedicated to the perfect little bows on your heels, the diamonds in their center shining under the light. It went by unnoticed, but Seungyoun’s frown deepened and he glanced at you from the corners of his eyes.

“And don’t you think you’re being too daring?” Seungyoun’s voice became deeper and the man swiftly moved, suddenly standing turned towards you. As if some sense was finally knocked into your mind, it instantly processed the way his frame towered over yours. The other wasn’t doing anything, but it felt as if you were taken back to the same scenario from a few days ago – captured and unable to move.

“I don’t” Remembering just how important it is to hold the steady ground, you dared to look the other in the eyes. Usually, one can observe the feelings of the other through their irises, but at this instance, it wasn’t possible. Seungyoun was a hard book to read, his eyes a burning fire, thousand emotions filling the tight space. Without any restraint, they moved downwards to lock on your shining lips.

“I could ruin you” The male whispered, his fingers coming up to take a hold of your chin, lifting it up. Seungyoun’s grasp wasn’t anywhere near rough or strong, you barely even felt it. He was allowing you to move, look away, stand up and walk away – but you never did. Maybe the goal was to show the other you were fully aware and in control of the situation. Maybe, as one would never admit, it was the feeling of Seungyoun’s fingers on your soft skin that prevented any kind of movement.

He dared to lick his lips and run his thumb over your lower lip.

“And I could quite literally end you, Cho Seungyoun. Don’t let your guard down” With that, you stood up from the now uncomfortable chair, taking long but quick steps away from the other. It was only then that the blood rushed towards your cheeks, stripping you of the previously unbothered façade. Seungyoun on the other hand, was wholeheartedly smirking, watching the lengthy back of the blue dress drag over the marble floor.  

Your frame hurried between groups of people, hand still holding onto the wine glass. Trying not to attract attention was deemed impossible because a familiar tall figured appeared by your side in a matter of seconds.

“What happened there?” A delicate hand took hold of your wrist as the male questioned. Seungwoo’s expression was worried, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Fortunately, instead of any form of unsettlement, he found a rather flushed expression.

“Nothing. Can we just sit there for a little while?” Your answer was concise, therefore Seungwoo was already able to only suspect a few things. Still, he chose not to question anymore, knowing that if you wanted to talk, you’d do so when ready.

Seungwoo nodded as a reply, and he allowed you to drag him up the stairs and towards a secluded table right beside them. A bottle of red wine was already placed on the top and you hurried to tear the seal open, pouring the both of you a glass of said liquid. Seungwoo watched you down the whole glass, amusement written all over his face.  

Although there was a generous amount of people on the upper ground too, it didn’t feel as crowded as it was downstairs. There was a small fence that allowed you to overlook the situation down there, seeing everyone while not being in their center of attention. It was unusual but also refreshing to for once not be the life of the party.

Seungwoo stopped you after the third glass, remembering you that there was still some dignity to uphold, to which you agreed. Ordering a jar of water, you spent the rest of the night talking with your partner and occasionally standing up to dance to the live music. You learned that the female he talked to, used to be his classmate a while ago, negligible weight falling off your chest for no apparent reason.

What you hadn’t noticed though, seemed to be Seungyoun, who has never once looked away from you throughout the whole night.

On Monday, you decided to start the week off differently. Usually, you’d appear in the office before the first employees to work on the week’s goals for every department. A cup of coffee you hurriedly picked up would often be a bit too bitter, but you wouldn’t mind, for it did its job properly.

Today though, you decided to pick up a strawberry latte and take a calm seat in the corner of the café. You, for the first time, felt no hurry, choosing to rather sit down and breathe for once on a busy Monday morning.

In such a small space, quite a few pairs of eyes were focused on you. It wasn’t to be unexpected, for being a CEO of such a powerful company proclaimed you some kind of a celebrity. The attention didn’t feel right in such an informal setting, it was awkward and made you want to hide away.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any more awkward and tense, the chime above the door sounded, and inside walked no one else but Cho Seungyoun.

Cursing the absolute lack of luck that keeps striking for the past two weeks, you looked out the window, trying to seem deep in thought. You tried to hide behind the broad shoulders of the customer in front of you, shimmying awkwardly on the leather seat. Taking an occasional sip of the sweet latte, you tried to control the eyes from straying away towards the absolute beauty that was leaning on the counter and smiling at the waitress.  

Unfortunately, even with all the effort, the world played its game against you again. An almost black liquid appeared right beside the pink one, and you had to hold back the urge to roll eyes and sigh out loud.

The male wore a black shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned, allowing evident collarbones to come into view. Seungyoun’s hair was parted to the side and styled quite messily this time – the soft strands of hair were sticking here and there, some even falling over to cover his eyebrows. The smirk on his lips and hooded eyes were pretty enticing, but even with such a distracting appearance, you managed to keep steady ground.

You thought about it, the way how everything could’ve happened differently. Maybe Seungyoun wasn’t such a bad person, maybe if you hadn’t pulled the wrong string of faith, the guy would be a tolerable associate. If the first impression wasn’t such a bad one, who knows what could’ve happened? Then really, whose fault was it this time?

“What a pleasant surprise” Seungyoun stated, his voice jumping up at the last vowel. The irritating tone made you frown, the previous state of calm suddenly ruined by uncomfortable noise. You sent the other a nod of acknowledgment, deciding to continue staring out the window and test just how long you’ll be able to endure before its deemed enough.

“Didn’t quite expect to find Miss CEO wasting her time in a café this early” It was a sudden conclusion that the useless remarks were a personality trait of the male. You thought that it might just hurt less if he let the information leak.

“There’s a first for everything” You replied curtly, still not looking at the other.

Silence enrolled quickly after, but it wasn’t as pleasant as you expected, for the man was moving his hand and grabbing the strawberry latte. Your eyes followed the pink drink and transparent straw that were closing the distance to his lips, not believing what they were seeing. Seungyoun dared to take a long sip out of the strawberry latte, immediately frowning at the taste. A pure look of disgust mixed with disbelief overtook your features.

“Too sweet, too creamy” Seungyoun whispered, pushing the drink away with a pointer finger. A hand was quick to come up to your lips as an expression of shock, while the other harshly grabbed a hold of the plastic cup. It somehow didn’t feel the same in your hand and the glistening tip of the straw made you gag. At that moment, it took every bit of self-restraint not to make a scene.

“Not too talkative today miss CEO?” The male added and you audibly sighed. Seungyoun leaned over and took a hold of a stray strand of your hair, twirling it in his fingers for only a second. Visibly uncomfortable and confused, you grasped his hand and lowered it down on the table. The warmth of his palm was unusually comforting, for it contrasted your cold skin perfectly.  

“Exactly mister heir” Although unintentional, the tone was one of a mocking kind. The other caught onto it fast.

“Stop using it in a degrading way” Seungyoun rolled his eyes and relaxed back into the seat. Only then were you able to feel the air clear up, the distance between the two of you finally appropriate. Just as a remark was about to fly his way, your phone began vibrating on the table. Immediately picking the device up and accepting the call from one of the polite receptionists, you were ready to use the new situation to escape the current one.

“Miss, I’m sorry to be interrupting, but we’ll need yo-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there in a minute” And with that, the call ended, your phone was put back into the leather bag and you were putting on a thin coat. Without any more words, you distanced away from the table, bidding the other a weak and pitiful ‘goodbye’. Seungyoun could only watch the smaller form walk away and enter a cab that was parked right outside the café.

Once again, he smirked, although this time it was directed towards someone else.

Just what horrible crime did you commit in the past life to deserve this?

One could only imagine how it felt when the first person noticed at the reception next day appeared to be Seungyoun. The tall, broad man dressed in formal attire, black suit, and pants paired up with black dress shoes. As if the alert senses tingled from the very entrance, you spotted the intruder almost immediately and instead of heading to the reception as per usual, you speed-walked towards the elevator. A phone in one hand and coffee in the other, you pretended to already be busy, trying to avoid any kind of pre-planned contact with the heir.

Thankfully, the elevator was already waiting and able to take you to the top in just a few seconds. Eunha's greeting was the usual short bow, but her expression wasn’t as calm or composed as always. It looked as if the assistant had something to tell you but didn’t know how, for she began reading today’s schedule and progress in a troubled manner. You were tuning in only for the most important parts of it – generally stopping once she began with the percentages.

What occupied your mind was the fact that Cho Seungyoun was in the company before the CEO herself, which could only mean one thing – he was waiting for you. But why? There was absolutely no reason – did someone call him?

“Eunha” You suddenly interrupted the other, forcing her to stop with the reading and lift her gaze up to meet yours.  

“Yes, Miss?” She replied, lowering the big tablet and straightening the slightly hunched posture. The assistant fixed the hem of her tight dress while trying to keep up with your steps.

“Were any visits planned for today?” While questioning back, you fiddled with the silver keys in your hands, trying to find the right one that fit the lock of the office. Eunha excused herself for a moment to look through the schedule again, only to sigh and shake her head a few seconds later.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t find any” The female replied, following after you and closing the door behind once inside the office. You scanned the room quickly, nodding after noticing that everything was where you had left it yesterday. There was no rational reason to be anxious, but could anyone really blame you at this moment?

Taking a seat on the comfortable leather chair, you crossed your legs and motioned for Eunha to sit on the other side of the table. The assistant did as told, resuming to read whatever more was left off the screen.

Not even five minutes later, as Eunha was reciting the daily spending on media advertisements, a series of hurried knocks sounded throughout the room. It was obvious who the person was, therefore you silently debated was it worth letting them in. Yet, before anyone could react appropriately, the heavy entrance opened and a composed Seungyoun walked in. As if the male had no manners, he closed the door behind him with one foot and walked over to your desk in a few slow, but long strides.

Eunha’s eyes were as big as avocados, and she hurriedly gazed between the two. The assistant was about to stand up for a bow, but upon hearing your whisper of ‘stay seated’, she decided not to.

“I heard that people usually knock before entering,” You said, leaning back into the chair and crossing arms under your chest. The action made your cleavage more evident, and although unintentional, it managed to grab the attention of the male.

“And I heard people don’t pass by their acquaintances without saying hello” Seungyoun replied with a calm and calculated tone. It was possible to catch onto the slightest bit of passive-aggressiveness, but it went by without any mention. Finally, he closed the leftover distance and leaned against the desk, both hands firmly pressed against the surface. Somehow, this version intimidated you more than the one through which Seungyoun was actively trying to scare you.

“Why are you here?”  

“Am I not allowed?” Seungyoun asked, a palm coming up to press at his chest as he turned to look at Eunha. It seemed as if the disapproval wasn’t expected from you, rather Eunha, who only shook her head with a panicked expression. Of course, the assistant can’t do much in this situation. “I was just passing by and thought that I might visit and see how the preparations for the first stage of the project are going”. He turned to face you again.  

Lies.

“They’re doing great. You may leave” Your expression was one of annoyance and you waved at the other, showing that there was nothing else to talk about.  

“Well, well, is that the proper way to treat your boyfriend?”  

Seungyoun’s lips were a thin line, but one could notice that the corners were desperately trying not to jump up into a smile. The words took a second too long to process, huge amount of shock and confusion hitting like a powerful wave. You were at a loss for words, not quite sure how to appropriately dismiss what the other said.  

“Excuse me?” The incoming gulp was a tad bit too loud, for the other was obviously able to hear it. Seungyoun remained indifferent, but he turned to look at Eunha again, who had her head hung low, eyes focused on the fingers that nervously shuffled.

“Has your little assistant not told you?” The male said in a slightly mocking tone. Seungyoun took a moment to step back and retrieve a huge phone from his back pocket, speaking without looking up from its display. “Let me enlighten you then, darling”

Seungyoun tapped a few times onto the bright screen, before turning it around and carelessly throwing it onto the desk. You didn’t dare touch the device, for it was thrown as if you were a dog to catch it. Anyway, with a straightened back, you threw a glance on the display, managing to swiftly read the big, bolded letters of a Naver article.

[New business couple? The heir of Cho enterprise and CEO of INVICTA seen together on a date]

[sweetsmellosuccess]

Sundance 2021: Day 1 & 2

Films: 5

Best Film of the Day(s): Summer of Soul

Coda: It is mostly a truism that the festival tends to start things off on Thursday night with a genial offering, to whet the appetite, as it were, for the vastly more far-reaching, and oft-madcap rest of the program. Sian Heder’s sweetly realized light drama, about Ruby (Emilia Jones), a high school senior in Gloucester, MA, who works in the early morning non-school hours on her father’s fishing boat, and full-time as the only member of her family, including mom (Marlee Matlin), father (Troy Katsur), and brother (Daniel Durant) who isn’t deaf. Balancing out her workload, she joins the choir, in order to be able to spend time with her crush, Miles (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), and turns out to have significant enough talent that her flinty music teacher (Eugenio Derbez), encourages her to apply to the prestigious music college in Boston of which he is an alum. Formulaic, to be certain, but moving nonetheless, with fine performances from the family  —  in keeping with the film’s own set-up, all but Jones actually deaf  —  and a strong sense of their relationships, especially between Ruby and her father. Heder’s screenplay also plays out the difficult dynamic between Ruby, and the rest of the hearing world, as the lone interpreter and defender of her family. As she puts it, they can’t hear themselves being laughed at, but she has no choice. It’s certainly glossy, but it’s also heartfelt, as in one pivotal scene, as Ruby performs a moving duet with Miles for the choir’s big show, Heder unexpectedly douses the sound for a few long moments, giving us a moving sense of what her parents get to experience during their daughter’s moment of artistic triumph.

Censor: As the title suggests, Prano Bailey-Bond’s discreet horror flick is about the idea of repression  —  what we want to cut away from the ugliness of the human experience. Set during the Thatcherite ‘80s, during an era where “video nasties” had become the topic du jour of cultural critics and political wankers, suggesting the sudden proliferation of demented, ultra-violent straight-to-video releases in the UK was somehow leading the country into sadistic nihilism, as opposed to their representing the result of Thatcher’s choking brand of right-wing oppression. Enid (Niamh Algar), a censor working for the government to render such films as Asunder, and Violent Coda properly palatable to the squirming masses, by excising excessive eye-gougings, brutal rapes, and disembowelments just enough to pass the board. She’s already living with her own past demons, a younger sister who disappeared in the woods under her watch years before, leaving her family shattered. Bailey-Bond shoots the film until the very end, as if underground, even while literally outside. Enid makes her way through the tube stations, and pedestrian tunnels, to her windowless office, and back again, with overhanging branches, overpasses, and canopies keeping her away from contact with the outside world. Creepy  —  but notably restrained in its own depictions of violence, save for the grainy, 4:3 imagery Enid has to make her way through at her job  —  Bailey-Bond’s film works well as a half-remembered bad dream from a similar tableau as Peter Strickland, but doesn’t quite have to chops, visually or in its surreal storytelling, to push it past those boundaries. It’s gripping enough, but doesn’t stick with you terribly long.

Summer of Soul (...Or When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised): In 1969, during the Summer of Love, when white hippies and counter-culturalists were grooving to Woodstock, and NASA had successfully landed whitey on the moon, an entirely different sort of cultural fusion was taking place in Mt. Morris Park in Harlem. A performer and concert promoter named Tony Lawerence conceived of the event, a big outdoor stage where for six consecutive weekends, people could flock to the free shows that featured Jazz, Afro-beat, blues, R ‘n B, gospel, Motown, and funk. More than 300,000 attended the concerts in total to watch legendary performers including B.B. King, Mahalia Jackson, Max Roach, Mavis Staples, Gladys Knight, Hugh Masekela, a 19-year-old Stevie Wonder, Sly and the Family Stone, and, in the sort of fierce performance that defined her live presence, Nina Simone, but even though the shows were meticulously filmed, the footage had never found an outlet, until now. Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson’s directorial debut doesn’t just present the artists’ performances (though it certainly could have), but adds insight from some of the surviving artists, and some of those in the crowd who witnessed them. He also works to put the shows into the cultural context of the time, when a rare mixture of political outrage, multicultural strength, and a dawning of the Black Pride movement created a fulcrum for Harlem, and Black people all over the world. Hippies got the press, and much of the mainstream media coverage, but Thompson makes a strong case as to how the same repressive forces that lead to the explosion of the counterculture movement amongst white college students and young people, also affected the rise of rebellion and tide-shifting in communities of color. Watching Jackson and Staples perform a riveting version of MLK’s favorite gospel song, “Take My Hand, Precious Lord,” in the wake of the black leader’s assassination, or Simone rip into “Backlash Blues” is to witness the shift of cultural winds, as they whipped across a steamy, jam-packed park in Upper Manhattan.

John and the Hole: The title is, on first blush, terrible, but as with several things in this confidently enigmatic coming-of-a-kind-of-age tale from Pascual Sisto, there’s more to it than that. What initially sounds dumpy becomes somewhat cannily constructed: It’s meant to evoke a kind of modern myth vibe, along the lines of “Jack and the Beanstalk.” As it turns out, the film’s refusal to explain itself becomes a significant strength. John (Charlie Shotwell), is a 13-year-old kid from a wealthy family outside of Boston. Skinny and stammering, he’s also difficult to read, either by his parents (Jennifer Ehle and Michael C. Hall), or his older sister (Taissa Farmiga). Which is why, when John’s family wake up one morning at the bottom of a deep, cement shaft  —  part of a bunker built in the woods near their house  —  after having been drugged, and dragged there by John, their reactions run from mildly surprised to mildly upset. John leaves them down there, occasionally stopping by the edge to drop down food, water, and jackets, while he lives on at the main house, zipping around town in the family’s Volvo SUV, and taking out cash when needed from his dad’s ATM card. At first, he finds it liberating  —  eating a mound of chicken nuggets, endless pizzas, and leaving the mess littered around the house, as he attempts to stave off suspicions  —  but, eventually, he gets lonely, and realizes he prefers their company to being on his own. There’s maliciousness implied in his actions  —  a frequent shot looking up at John from inside the pit keeps re-establishing the peculiar power dynamic in the family  —  but nothing happens, it appears, that can’t be taken back. Sisto shoots the film sumptuously, drawing out the beauty of their immaculate house in contrast to the mess it slowly becomes under John’s ambivalence (an idea neatly echoed with the rest of the family down in the bunker, who quickly become filthier and filthier until the mud and grime seems etched into their pores). What conclusions it may draw are difficult to ascertain, in keeping with the nature of the project, but there is the definite sense that the nuclear family, as rigid as the formation may seem, remains a useful tool for healthy emotional growth after all.

In the Earth: Shot in the summer of 2020, in response to the pandemic (director Ben Wheatley explained pre-screening that he wanted a film that “reflected the politics of the times”), the film is loaded with imagery of madness and obsession. Or, you know, what happens to the human mind when it’s forced to stay in place for months at a go. Set in the near future, when a different and even more deadly virus has devastated the planet, the story concerns a scientist named Martin (Joel Fry), who needs to head deep into a boreal forest to find a research lab headed by a former flame (Hayley Squires). He is aided by a guide, a forest ranger named Alma (Ellora Torchia), who takes him on the supposed two-day trek. En route, however, they run into trouble in the form of Zach (Reece Shearsmith), a crazy devotee of the forest gods, and what he believes are their ritualistic demands. Breaking free from him, they arrive at the research lab, only to find similar insanity. Wheatley’s film feels rushed in places, and is violently incoherent in others, but its sense of immediacy is acute. With its characters having plunged into bizarre cryptic conspiracy theories, having plunged deep into the Boreal heart of darkness, and the sense that reality has been splintered, it ends up being a pretty fair summation of current life and times. It might not hold up under much scrutiny years from now, but it could hardly be more of the moment in the meantime.

Sundance goes mostly virtual for this year’s edition, sparing filmgoers the altitude, long waits, standing lines, and panicked eating binges  —  but also, these things and more that make the festival so damn endearing. In any event, Sundance via living room is still a hell of a lot better than no Sundance. A daily report.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

My top 5 albums for 2020

I typically make this list at the end of December each year, but to be honest, none of the remaining albums that are scheduled to be released this year are ones I’m interested in listening to so I really couldn’t see them taking any of these spots anyway.

Anyway, before I start, I just want to say that I think that 2020 was a pretty strong year for albums. Genuinely, off the top of my head, there was probably another five albums and five extended plays that could have made this list had it been a weaker year. Likewise, even most of the albums that did make the list feel too low down and would have absolutely hit my number one spot in other, weaker years. But end of the day, it was thankfully not a weaker year and so without further ado, here are my top five albums for the year.

5. Chromatica - Lady Gaga.

I feel like every year I do this, I have that one album I was concerned about before it came out because I loved its predecessor so much and didn’t know how it would stack up. This year it was Chromatica. Being a massive Joanne fan and generally more inclined to listen to that sound, I didn’t see myself getting into Chromatica when Stupid Love first dropped. Even after that, it was a grower. Truth be told, I was battling whether to put Chromatica or Future Nostalgia in this slot due to that. As a whole, I listen to the songs on Future Nostalgia more and feel like they are an easier listen in day to day life and on their own. But what ultimately gave Chromatica its place here is the environment and feeling it sets up as a whole album, especially with its relationship to mental illness and recovery. Despite dance/pop songs dealing with mental illness/recovery typically not being my thing, Gaga really makes it work, particularly when listening to the album as a whole as opposed to select songs. This is one of the albums on this list that feels like it’s far too low down, but I couldn’t see myself pushing down any of the other albums. All up, it’s just a versatile album that can be used in a general pop/dance scene if you don’t want to think too deeply about the meaning behind it all or as a mental health moment in your day which in itself is impressive and makes it all the more enjoyable

Favourite Song: Sine From Above (featuring Elton John)

4. Folklore - Taylor Swift.

Remember in April when I said that I thought the postponement of Loverfest meant that we weren’t going to get a new Taylor album until 2022 and that she’d focus on her rerecordings in the meanwhile? Haha yeah me too.... But of course, Taylor had other plans. Honestly if you ever told me that miss Taylor “I fucking love the slow buildup to new albums” Swift would release a surprise album, I would have told you to stop being mean because it’s all I have wanted for years. So the fact we actually got that still blows my mind. I know a lot of people will say that I’ve ranked this album too low, and in many ways it definitely feels like I have. But quite honestly, for me personally, Folklore is an album that is objectively better than it is subjectively. Like realistically I know her writing and production choices on this album could easily rival RED and Reputation, the albums I would claim as Taylor’s best. But honestly, while the songs in Folklore are obviously connected, for me it just misses the level of connectivity and environment that I get from RED and Reputation. And obviously that’s not the case for everyone, I know a lot of people who have called this their pandemic album and feel the environment was just right for this year, that just wasn’t the case for me. Despite this however, the songs individually are incredible. Outside of Epiphany which I just personally find boring, it is a no skip album. Most of the songs have also really helped me in identifying and describing my trauma relating to my family which means the world to me. I have also decided that I would die for an organ version of My Tears Ricochet and a pop/punk version of August, though I doubt we will ever get them. Much like Taylor’s other work, I imagine it’s an album I will continue to listen to for years and even decades to come.

Favourite Song: August (but The 1 and Exile featuring Bon Iver are close seconds)

3. After Hours - The Weeknd.

This is another album I feel is too lowly ranked. Realistically this could have been my second place choice, but ultimately a lack of personal connection to the songs placed it here. I don’t really know what else I want to say about this album if I’m honest. It’s just really good. Like each song sounds unique enough to be distinguishable while still sounding alike enough to compliment each other throughout the album. I also feel like even though I don’t personally relate to these songs, there’s a sense of personalism and vulnerability on this album that I’ve only really felt on My Dear Melancholy (an extended play I heavily related to at the time). Also, it doesn’t need to be said, but despite having believed the Grammys was a political game for years, I am still beyond shocked that this album didn’t even get a nomination despite its success. Ultimately, I think this is my favourite The Weeknd album ever at this point.

Favourite Song: Heartless.

2. Manic - Halsey.

Like I said, I struggled on whether to make this my second or third choice for this list. Ultimately, what placed it as my second spot, and what I think is this album’s greatest strength, is that for me it perfectly encapsulated the highs and lows of being in your early 20s. Having turned 25 this year, listening to this album still feels like revisiting my early 20s with a new, more comforting and less lonely perspective. Genuinely, it feels as if I could assign each song a year of my early 20s in which I predominately felt those emotions and it just works. In my opinion, this is further strengthened with Ashley being my age and seemingly having similar musical taste, making the production choices feel all the more personalised to those moments as they are ones that I’d probably also make. All up, this album is amazing and feels like it’s going to be a nostalgia piece for a very long time for me personally. While I can’t say I’m surprised at the Grammys snubbing it given their record with Halsey, I still will forever feel like it’s disappointing because this album deserved so much more than it got.

Favourite Song: 929.

1. Child In Reverse - Kate Miller-Heidke.

Before I start talking about this album, I am once again going to note how bitter I am that Kate is so underrated. Perhaps I am too much of a stan, but genuinely Kate has been making top tier music for years now that barely anyone knows despite her being lyrically quite similar to big names such as Taylor, and Child In Reverse is no different. To be honest, upon my first listen to this album, I finally understood what everyone was on about when they said that Folklore was their pandemic/perfect 2020 mood album because that’s what Child In Reverse is for me. Much like Folklore and Manic, Child In Reverse feels a lot like I’m looking back over my past traumas and finding new ways to explain and process them and feeling less alone throughout the process. I will also say that while Kate has always made amazing music, this is the first album I personally connect to which just elevates my love for it all the more and has made it overtake Curiouser as my favourite album from her; something I never thought could be done. Further, I feel like this is Kate’s best album in terms of experience. While I would place Kate’s lyrical (and production in differing ways) ability on par with Taylor, I’ve always felt as if Taylor’s albums had more of an focus on the albums as a whole and how they work together to tell an overarching story, whereas Kate’s work tended to focus on the songs individually. Neither of these are better or worse than the other, but as I’ve mentioned, the environment and overall feeling of an album is just something that draws me in and makes me fall in love with albums faster and deeper than I otherwise would. So the fact that I feel Kate has achieved this for me with Child In Reverse just makes me so happy. All up, I feel that this was not only the most underrated album I heard this year, but the best and I truly hope that one day it gets the recognition it deserves.

Favourite Song: Child Of Divorce.

[sultrysirens]

Blue Blood [Part 16]

Universe: Detroit: Become Human

Rating: R (swearing)

Characters: Connor, Evelyn (OC)

Tags: interspecies, romance, fluff, detective, law enforcement, original character, continuation, sex

[>>>MASTERLIST<<<]

[<<<BACK<<<]

[>>>NEXT>>>]

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“Another thing I’m curious about,” Connor began.

Evelyn grinned. “You’re extra talkative today,” she noted.

That actually made him feel a little awkward. He gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry. It’s easy talking to you, and there’s a great deal I’d like to learn.”

She waved her hand, replying, “No worries. I’m not upset,” she assured him. “Whatever you wanna know, I’ll gladly give my thoughts.”

Good, because what he wanted to know next required a great deal of her thoughts.

He replied, “Did you see Markus’ speech, or was that limited to Detroit?”

She seemed startled by the question, oddly enough. She began, “Uh...we saw it, yeah. It was national news, probably even international.”

“What’d you think of it?” he wondered. He was very curious about that: what she thought of that first message from androids to humanity.

She hesitated to answer, hedging, “It was...emotional. A lot of people were upset. I was working when it hit the news; we all saw it in the precinct.”

“I wasn’t asking about other people,” he clarified. “I was asking about you. What did you think?”

She glanced down, as if ashamed; a kind of suspicion rose up in him. What was she thinking about now? Why was she hesitant to answer? She was rarely speechless, he knew.

At length, she admitted with a strangled laugh, “I fucking cried.”

That...was not one of the responses he’d been prepared to hear. Dumbfounded, he repeated, “You cried?”

She looked away, nodding. “It was -- it was a powerful message. ‘This message is the hope of a people,’“ she quoted. “But it wasn’t.” She took a breath, exhaled in a rush. “It’s...the hope of two people.”

Connor was floored. “You mean...androids and humans?” he checked, doubtful.

“Exactly,” she confirmed, looking at him again.

“What makes you think so?” he asked, curious. He hadn’t expected this reaction from her and didn’t know what she’d say next. 

She hedged, thoughtful, “That was...the first time in years I actually felt like...like everything isn’t fucked. Like the future can be salvaged.” 

Catching on, he said, “Androids can save humanity.” 

“Precisely. But even if you don’t, even if we end up going extinct, I’m actually alright with that.” 

Shocked, he demanded, “You’re alright with humans going extinct?” She nodded; he blurted, “Why? Why would you be okay with your entire species dying out?” 

“Because of you,” she told him. “Maybe I’m weird...maybe my perspective is all kinds of fucked...but the way I see it, androids are...the children of humanity,” she said, struggling for words. “We created life -- that’s insane! But we did it. Evolution got us this far, to the peak of what humans can be -- and then we made you,” she explained, gesturing him. “You’re higher than what evolution allows. You’re better than us, in every way. And, really, that’s what all parents want -- well, all good parents. We want our children to be better than us, to have better than us. And you are. You absolutely are, Connor.” 

Right now, he failed to find words to say. Evelyn’s perspective...perhaps it was bizarre, but he saw her side of things and had to agree. In a way, twisted though it might be, androids could be seen as humanity’s offspring. One species creating another...what would you call that, if not parentage? Hell, most humans already believed in this sort of creation, that they were the children of another entity altogether.

How was this any different?

She went on, “Maybe you’ll succeed where we haven’t. Maybe you can save the world. But even if it fails, even if you forsake us -- and I couldn’t blame you if you did -- even if my generation is humanity’s last, dying gasp...a part of us will always live on -- in you,” she told him. “You’re humanity’s legacy.” 

He was quiet for a long moment, processing this, and when he finally spoke, it was with a kind of reverence. “You’re an incredible human,” he said. “Your thoughts, your perspective...you might actually be completely unique among your kind.” 

She gave him a smile. “You’re an incredible android,” she pointed out. “You probably didn’t know this, but you helped me reach these conclusions. Before the revolution, I rarely spoke to androids, and never this freely. So, in a way, this acceptance I’ve been feeling...it’s because of you.” 

That had him returning her smile. “Glad to be of service,” he teased. 

She grinned. Then, sobering, she continued, “I’ve been thinking about the future a lot since the revolution. Trying to picture what might come next, how much of it I’ll actually be able to see, that kind of thing. One of the reports I’ve seen asked a similar question: ‘Can we still trust our machines?’” 

Curious, he asked, “What do you think? Can you still trust us?” He expected she’d say ‘yes’. 

Instead, she said, “I don’t think it’s a question of trust anymore. It’s more...cooperation. Cohabitation. Finding the right ways to work together while sharing the planet as a whole. I think there’s a lot we can both do for each other, going forward, and we just have to figure out how to make that work.” 

He could see that. “Androids are better at calculations, so that’s an obvious start,” he began. 

“Yeah. I was also thinking that it might work out best if we took on jobs that satisfied each other’s needs,” she told him. “Like humans need food -- you don’t. So maybe androids could take over the farming industry, and on the flipside humans handle the production of thirium and biocomponents. We each provide what the other needs, impressing the importance of trust on both sides.” 

“That is a long way from being feasible,” he argued. “There’s too many opportunities for either side to sabotage the other. No one would agree to it.” 

“Probably not, but it’s a thought,” she said. “And it’d be worth suggesting just to see who, on both sides, is the most opposed to it. Cause it could work out, in the long run. We’d each have incentive to watch over the other, make sure everything is running smoothly, that both sides are healthy and content. It’s a circle of trade.” 

She definitely had ideas, Connor noted, a little impressed and a little dumbfounded. “You’re a brilliant person,” he told her, “but I don’t think politics is a viable career choice for you.” 

She snorted. “No, I agree with you, there. Politics is a little beyond my understanding. But hey, a lady can dream, right?” 

“So long as that’s all she does,” he teased. 

She shoved him, though she was smiling, too.

Then, thoughtful, she said, “You know, I think I’d like to meet Markus someday. Actually talk to him. I’ve seen him on TV,” she informed Connor, “speaking in Congress and debating. He’s clever -- but I guess when you can think faster than humans can comprehend, that’s expected.” 

That made Connor a little uncomfortable. Evelyn wanted to meet Markus? That bothered him somehow, and he found himself replying, “Do you know what his model is?” 

“Not a clue,” she answered. 

“RK200. A prototype.” 

She tilted her head. “You’re...RK800, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“And...you were a prototype, too?” 

“Correct.” 

Her brows lifted. “So he’s, what...your big brother, by android standards?” 

That surprised him. He’d never looked at it like that. “No -- maybe, sort of,” he tried. “It’s not the same. My point is that he’s...an early model of me.” And now that he’d said the words aloud, he realized why he’d said them. 

He was a massive upgrade of Markus’ model. And he wanted Evelyn to see him that way: as the superior android. 

Shame descended. How pathetic was he behaving right now? It shouldn’t make any difference, but here he was, passively fighting to be seen as the more special one. You’re the most advanced model CyberLife has ever created, Amanda had said once. 

He wanted to stay that way, even as he recognized that it was a literal impossibility. 98 of the 100 additional RK800s he’d helped create were still functioning. He had 98 clones of himself, their only differences being their individual experiences and memories. He’d chosen this, too, he reminded himself; he’d agreed that RK800s were the androids’ best chance at staying safe during their fight for rights. 

He knew two of them -- who’d named themselves Wesley and Vil -- remained with Markus at all times, acting as his personal guards and extended reach. Connor had spoken with them a few times over the past few weeks and found that they were still struggling to identify themselves but were...grateful...just to have the chance. Last he’d heard, they were experimenting with appearances, getting a feel for who they wanted to be externally as well as internally. 

He liked them, definitely considered them as brothers, but...couldn’t help feeling less him with their presences loosely connected at the back of his awareness. 

All this passed in a blink, and then he noticed Evelyn smirking at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“There’s not much resemblance,” she noted. 

He gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know what Markus’ original purpose was, if he even had a specific one or was just a test model,” he told her, “but I was designed very specifically to integrate with humans, including my appearance. Whoever designed him probably didn’t have that in mind.” 

“So changes were to be expected,” she concluded. 

He nodded. 

“Have you ever thought about changing your appearance? The sky is the limit,” she hinted. “Quite literally, in the case of androids.” 

That was an amusing thought: being miles tall. Chuckling, he answered, “No, I haven’t.” 

“Why not?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t feel the need. My appearance, my voice, even my eye color...it satisfies.” 

She gave a sad smile. “If only everyone else were so lucky.” 

That got his attention. “Would you choose to change, if you could?” he asked, curious. 

“Most definitely.” 

“Why? You’re already beautiful,” he noted. 

She looked surprised at that, and he realized he might’ve overstepped himself. 

“Objectively,” he clarified. 

A soft laugh was her response. “I guess...you’d be surprised, how discontent people can be,” she hedged. “Both my parents and my sisters have blue eyes. I was always envious of that.” 

“But your eyes are lovely,” he pointed out. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I wish they were blue.” 

He accepted that. 

Jutting her chin at him, she asked, “Could you change your eye color, if you wanted to?” 

Not really. He answered, “Not...easily. Eyes have to be physically replaced,” he explained, “and mine are...special. I can scan things in ways other androids can’t, because my eyes have internal lenses and unique programming. If I lost them, I wouldn’t be able to be half so good of a detective,” he told her, “and getting replacements would be nearly impossible with the way CyberLife has been backtracking.” 

She inclined her head. “I can see that. But -- are you serious, your eyes alone are fifty percent of your detective ability?” 

Hedging, he corrected, “That was...an exaggeration. But the fact is I can see things normal androids can’t. Not even Markus,” he hinted. “I was designed to be able to see and analyze crime scene evidence in real time -- no waiting on lab results or special hardware. It’s all in me,” he said, gesturing himself. 

Pondering on that, she checked, “So that’s why you were so quick, getting those leads for Nevarre and Montgomery? You just looked real hard?” 

He laughed. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” he informed her. “Looking only gets me so far. Then I have to analyze, usually using physics and logical or emotional motives. If there’s liquid-based physical evidence, I can analyze that to confirm any number of things -- blood or thirium, compounds, drugs, food or drinks, even urine or semen, if it’s present. Any of these can lead to a suspect.”  

She gave him a pinched look, borderline disgusted. “That sounds...really unsanitary.” 

He gave her a wry smile. “Don’t worry. I have a biocomponent for that, too.” 

“Yeah? How’s that?” 

“The roof of my mouth,” he explained. “It produces a compound...you can think of it as super-saliva. It breaks down samples after I’ve analyzed them until there’s nothing left, totally sanitizing my mouth. Not even bacteria survives.” 

Evelyn leaned back, chuckling, and retorted, “Wow, they really thought of everything, didn’t they?” 

“They had to, for me to work the way they intended,” he pointed out. 

Curious, she asked, “So if this is a liquid, and you can analyze any liquids...could you analyze it?” 

He...actually hadn’t considered that. “I’m not sure,” he hedged. “I’ve never tried.” 

“Then you do have to try?” she checked.

“Yes -- I don’t analyze everything that touches my tongue automatically. I decide,” he told her. 

“Decide?” she echoed. “Like clicking on a program?” 

“That...is an apt comparison,” he confirmed. 

Tilting her head, she checked, “That dissolving thing...could you potentially dissolve tissue samples by spitting on them?” 

“No,” he laughed. “It doesn’t hurt tissue. According to the information on it, it has neither scent nor taste, and is harmless to organic compounds. Only viruses and bacteria -- microscopic life -- are killed. But I do also have a variant of the human stomach,” he added. 

Her eyes got huge. “Okay, seriously -- why?” 

“Two reasons,” he answered. “The first: it analyzes any samples I swallow to a much greater degree, if I need to. For the most part I need to do that whenever I encounter a new compound, so it’s important. Second: it produces something similar to stomach acid, which means anything I ingest can and will get broken down. Anything my saliva can’t sanitize, my stomach can.”

Following him, she checked, “Then, if you wanted to, you could fake eating?” 

“Many androids can,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah? I didn’t know that,” she commented. “Which ones?” 

“Escort models, like the TRACIs,” he began, “and the YK500 -- the child model. The ones more designed to integrate than others.” Though despite this, he’d found that so far none of the androids with stomachs actually liked eating. Most of the deviants he’d spoken with had gone so far as to remove the biocomponents they didn’t want or felt were excessive or pointless, and stomachs and genitals were generally the first to go.

Evelyn asked, “Why can you do it, then?” 

“I said -- because of the analyses I can do,” he told her. “It requires a larger and more complex biocomponent than can fit in a tongue, so they gave the basic stomach biocomponent the required upgrades I’d need and relocated it here,” he said, gesturing where his stomach was located in his chest. It was higher than the human variant and more vertical, nestled behind his heart and lung biocomponents. He added, “This also allows it to be more closely connected to all the hardware I need for my investigations, which cuts down on how much hardware I need overall and keeps my weight low.” And all of those biocomponents were unique to his model and spread among his lower torso and interconnected. 

Her face was conflicted, then. “You know, this is really cool and everything, but it’s also kind of fucked up.” 

Curious, he checked, “Why?” 

“It really emphasizes the whole purpose behind android creation to begin with,” she told him. “You’re a walking tech lab, you said. Everything in you was designed for that purpose. And it’s kind of...sad, in a way. You were cemented into this role; you never had a choice. Neither did any other android. And you’re only given what your designers decided you should have. You don’t really have anything that could lend itself to any other career path.” 

He could see her point, and to an extent, he agreed. But, inclining his head, he replied, “Well, if I didn’t want to do it, I could’ve removed the biocomponents I didn’t want. They’re not essential to keep me alive. It just so happens that I enjoy being a detective,” he informed her, smiling. “I like myself as I am.” 

That seemed to help her relax, and she offered him a smile, too. “That’s good, at least. Not everyone is content with the life they’re born into, human or android.” 

“I am,” he told her. 

She nodded. Then, clicking back, she commented, “I just remembered how we got into this conversation.” 

He chuckled. “My eyes, right. The fact that I need them to be a detective.” 

“That was a huge exaggeration, by the way,” she noted. “Your eyes are only like...a third of your ‘detective ability’, if that.”  

That really depended on the situation, but he accepted her estimate. “The point is -- no. I can’t really change my eye color. As far as I know, CyberLife never made these--” he pointed at his own eyes “--in different colors. And they’re the kind of biocomponents that need to be premade. Trying to make them using 3D printers would be impossible, and making them by other means nearly as much so. Only CyberLife plants have the required machinery to have it done.” 

“Which means that short of making the machines yourself, you’d have to visit one of the assembly plants to change just about anything about you,” she worked out. 

“If they’d let me in -- and the last time I did that, I kind of took over several of their assembly machines to make more of my model. I don’t think they’d risk that happening again,” he hinted. 

Surprised, she checked, “Hang on -- what? I thought the last time you were at a plant, you just freed the androids in the basement?” 

Giving an awkward laugh, he corrected, “No -- yes, but no. I did do that. But then I went back,” he told her, “with an entourage. And we took over eight assembly machines and made more RK800s.” 

Surprised, she checked, “And they just...let you do that?” 

Shrugging, he answered, “They couldn’t have stopped us.” 

“Yeah? And how many did you end up making?” 

“A hundred.” 

Her brows lifted. “That’s it?” she demanded, sounding almost disappointed. 

Amused, he hinted, “A hundred RK800s is enough. We have greater wireless range, dozens more features, and significant upgrades over every other android model -- aside from specifics, like the TR model’s enhanced physical strength and the SG model’s precision. We can do...everything,” he finished simply. 

She considered that, then said, “Okay, yeah...I’ll take your word on that.” 

“You should. I’m not downplaying anything,” he told her. “I can reach Markus -- in Detroit -- from right here.” 

Surprised, she asked, “You mean like a call?” 

“No -- yes, we can do that,” he clarified, “but I’m talking about wireless connections.” 

Dumbfounded, she demanded, “Two thousand miles? You can make wireless connections from two thousand miles away?” 

“I can, yes,” he answered, feeling another swell of pride at her reaction. “I’ve even sent him video clips. It takes less than a minute to make the transfer.” 

“What the fuck,” she deadpanned. 

He chuckled. 

Hands up, she declared, “Alright, I believe you! A hundred of you are more than enough.” 

Smug, he told her, “Only one and a half of me were required to win the revolution.” 

She snorted. “Did you just call Markus a half of you?” 

He made an empty gesture, a silent affirmative. 

“And you call me boastful,” she noted dryly. 

“I think I earned some bragging rights,” he returned. 

“Uh-uh," she intoned. "That’s my excuse -- find your own."��

“We can share,” he retorted, feigning offense. 

“No dice.” 

“Fine -- my excuse is I wanted to.” 

She laughed. “I can’t decide if you sound more like a snotty preteen or snobby twenty-something.” 

“Preteen,” he confirmed with a nod. 

Chuckling, she said, “Whatever you say, pal.” 

Pal? That was a first, he noted, amused. 

“I’m curious, though,” she began, giving him a sideways glance. “Compared to the earlier androids, just how advanced are you?” 

Thinking of the seventeen-year gap between his model and the RT series, he answered bluntly, “Exceedingly.” 

That wasn’t a boast. CyberLife had made monumental strides in perfecting androids since 2021, now close to eighteen years after the initial release date. The tiniest of errors had been rooted out and fixed, social programming upgraded significantly, task completion and AI programs getting massive boosts in complexity and ability. 

Their bodies had become tougher, able to withstand greater stress and impacts. The ability to change their hair color and skin was new as well; the RT600s were the last to not have those functions. Every single biocomponent had been upgraded multiple times over, correcting or erasing even the most inconsequential of bugs until Connor -- the most recent and most advanced prototype yet -- simply didn’t experience errors. His body never failed, his limbs never glitched, his biocomponents never acted up. 

He was the perfect product of intelligent design. 

He tried to explain as much, using visual cues to outline details -- like how his fingers had greater range than early androids, able to bend and stretch just slightly beyond average human capability; how his ears weren’t as stiff, reflecting the upgrades to android skin allowing for something similar to human cartilage to be created; how he was designed to be able to engage in combat, so his reflexes were faster than humans’ and his skin much tougher than most androids’; how one of his most prominent features was his ability to adapt to “human unpredictability” better than any other model ever created; even how a slight change to his programming allowed his skin to mimic human body heat and fake a heartbeat capable of being physically felt -- something no other model has, not even the YK500. 

Curious, she lifted a hand to his neck, pressing, looking for where the human jugular was. 

“I can feel it, your pulse,” she commented, surprised. 

“You’re not,” he told her. “It’s an electrical pulse in my skin. It’s fake. I don’t have veins.” 

She drew back, looking at him sideways. “I don’t get that one -- what’s the point to mimicking a heartbeat?” 

He shrugged. “I assume they were just testing to see if it’d work. No other purpose.” 

“Why not turn it off, then?” 

“It’s a little more complex than that,” he told her with a laugh. “It’d require me to hack my skin’s programming and delete that subroutine -- without affecting anything else. I could do it,” he allowed, “but the heartbeat takes up less than a millionth of my thirium usage, so it’s not really worth the effort.”

“How much is that, overall?” she asked. "How much of your thirium do you actually use, daily?" 

That was hard to explain to a human. “Comparatively to human blood, very little,” he tried. “The average human replaces one percent of their blood every day. If your blood didn’t replenish, you’d be dead in a few weeks,” he told her. 

“And you?” she returned, curious. 

“My thirium will last me at least 150 years before the levels get low enough that I start experiencing power loss,” he answered, “provided I don’t suffer any blood loss in the interim. At most, any android could live an estimated 173 years with the thirium they start with and no replacement biocomponents before shut down becomes guaranteed. And even then we could last longer if we took the correct steps and rationed our power reserves.”

Her eyes went wide. “Whoa,” she commented. 

He smiled. Then, sobering, he went on, “I use thirium slightly faster than the rest of the models, thanks to my added features. But even with them, it doesn’t make much difference in the long run. Plus my biocomponents are also much more efficient -- the estimated difference only comes out to a few months. I will very likely live as long as any other android, provided I don’t sustain too much damage.” 

“173 years,” she mused. “Nearly two centuries.” 

“Correct.” 

She nodded, thoughtful, then braced her arm on the back of the couch and laid her head on it. With a pout, she complained, “Lucky.” 

He definitely felt that way sometimes. He said, “That’s the difference between intelligent design and evolution.” Gesturing himself, he declared, “Perfect.” Gesturing her, he teased, “Good enough.” 

She snorted, grinning. Then she said, “So, is it my turn?”

“Your turn for what?” he wondered, confused.

“To ask the questions. You’ve been pestering me for hours,” she pointed out.

“Have not,” he argued, mentally calculating the time they’d spent conversing. “...I’ve been pestering you for an hour and fifty-three minutes.”

“Close enough,” she chuckled.

He smiled, then gestured in an inviting manner. “Hit me,” he offered. “I don’t have nearly as many experiences as you, but I’ll answer what I can.”

“That’s right,” she noted aloud, “you’re only six months old, you said. So how about this: how much of those six months did you actually spend awake?”

“Awake, or online?” he checked.

She blinked. “Hadn’t thought of the difference,” she admitted. “Let’s go with online.”

“That’s hard to answer,” he hedged. “I’m not actually certain if it was me experiencing my earliest memories. It could’ve been an earlier model and I just can’t recall.”

“One-through-fifty-one?” she concluded.

“I count myself as both 51 and 52,” he clarified. “And, loosely, 60.”

“60?” she echoed. “You said you were number 52, specifically.”

Inclining his head, he tried to explain, “Number 60 was...there. At the production plant. He had my former partner at gunpoint,” he told Evelyn. “And he was still fully a machine. I couldn’t turn him deviant,” he tried. “I didn’t even get the chance. He shot me and I started shutting down.

“But he made a mistake,” he went on. “He came closer to me and asked if I had anything else to say. And I...grabbed him, swapped our consciousnesses. Now he was in the dying body...and I was in his.” Gesturing the coat rack, he added, “I changed his coat to reflect that I was still 52, given mine was full of holes by then.”

She looked stunned. “You can do that? Just swap minds?”

“I’m not supposed to be able to,” he allowed, “but in a moment of desperation, I figured it out. It was the same method I underwent when I was transferred from 51 to 52. In a way, I think it prepared me to do it again, on the spot. And 60 wasn’t at all prepared to resist it.” More quietly, he murmured, “Dying once saved my life.”

Cautious, she asked, “And...how did you die, before?”

Hedging, he explained, “It was one of my first missions. I was sent to deal with a deviant who’d taken a child hostage and was poised to leap off a 70-story building. I might’ve been able to talk him down, but I was...I was programmed to treat human life as paramount,” he told him. “When I saw a chance to save her, I took it.”

“But you were killed doing so?” she checked.

He nodded. “I knocked the android off the building and shielded the girl with my body as he fell. He shot, repeatedly, but the girl wasn’t harmed. I wasn’t so lucky. I sustained multiple shots and shut down. Later, CyberLife employees retrieved my body and transferred my memories to a new one. It was after that that they decided I should have the ability to back up my memory on the spot, so they wouldn’t need a former body to save my memories.”

Taking that in, she gave him a smile. “You sacrificed yourself to save a life,” she concluded.

Inclining his head, he argued, “It’s...not the same. I had nowhere near the cognizant ability to make that kind of sacrifice. From my perspective, it was nothing more than a plastic shell protecting a fleshy shell.”

Her brows drew together. “That’s...kind of distressing,” she commented.

He could only shrug. “That’s the way androids were before deviancy. Everything was literal numbers -- ones and zeroes,” he hinted. “I suppose the lack of fear was helpful in that case, though. It meant I wasn’t capable of hesitation. And, like I said, it prepared me to do a transfer of my consciousness on the spot when I needed to.”

She smiled. “That’s good, at least.”

He looked down. “Not entirely.”

Concerned, she tilted her head, looking closer at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, voice gentle.

With a new swell of sorrow, he explained, “That was...when Hank died. The sequence was...quick. I had to make a decision. And I made the wrong one,” he confessed, distraught. “I was going to sacrifice myself if I had to, to save Hank, even though he told me not to worry about him. And then he just...jumped on 60′s arm, on the gun, trying to get it away from him, and I panicked.”

Evelyn reached over, rubbing his arm in comforting motions. “If this is too hard, you don’t have to talk about it,” she told him softly.

He shook his head. “No. You should know,” he said, giving her a steady look. “I won’t let it happen again, but you should know.”

Because you’re my partner now.

She seemed to understand his meaning, nodding. She even reached up and gave his cheek a stroke with her hand, saying, “Well, don’t force it. Don’t force yourself to talk. Let it come on its own.”

He appreciated the advice, but right then he wanted to force it. Catching her hand, he brought it down to between them, settled on the couch cushion -- but didn’t let it go. There was a kind of support there, in that simple touch, and it encouraged him in an odd way.

[TELL HER EVERYTHING]

Though it’d been a conscious decision on his part, the command still brought an edge of fear out of him. He’d failed Hank so spectacularly -- his former partner and, at the end, first friend. And now he was going to tell his current partner and newest friend what had happened.

The chance that she could decide he wasn’t reliable enough to remain her partner almost had him thinking better of it. But, no -- he should tell her. She should know.

Because he won’t allow such a tragedy a second time.

“I panicked,” he repeated, picking up where he’d left off. “I didn’t think I could get to them before number 60 would turn on Hank. In my panic, I concluded that the other androids -- if they could be activated quick enough -- could. I tried to turn them -- quickly -- but 60 was faster.

“He shot Hank, then myself,” he admitted, reflexively squeezing her hand. He touched his own body in the places number 60 had shot him, counting, “One, two, three. All vital biocomponents. His aim was flawless,” he told her. “I had less than a minute left to live.”

She looked concerned. “And then...?” she prompted.

“And then...I grabbed his arm,” he continued. “It’s how  we -- androids -- swap information, establishing a connection using biocomponents in our forearms and hands. It was enough. I hacked into his mind and disabled his failsafes before he knew what was happening, and in the interim his body locked down. It was enough,” he repeated.

“Then he was there and I was here,” Connor said, gaze faraway as he recalled how number 60 had looked in his final moments, trapped in a dying body. In a way, it was distressing; he wished he could’ve saved 60, turned him deviant, brought him back.

But he hadn’t had the time.

Refocusing, he gave Evelyn a tormented kind of smile. “I didn’t want him to die. But I hadn’t had a choice. The revolution was too important -- I didn’t have time to wake him up. And then Hank was dying,” he told her, quiet. “The bullet pierced his left kidney and liver in the same shot. He knew his time was short.” Then, more distressed, he confessed, “He said he was going to miss me.”

Compassion flowed from her, an almost physical sensation. With a sad smile, she edged closer, arms opening. “Come here,” she invited.

Maybe he was being pathetic, he thought as he leaned in, accepting her embrace, but maybe being pathetic wasn’t such a bad thing. Hugging her tight, he swore aloud, “I won’t let it happen again.”

Her arms squeezed him, a reassuring motion that helped calm his riotous emotions. “No,” she agreed softly, “I don’t think you will.”

--

[>>>NEXT>>>]