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cozage · 8 months

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The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 6: Straw Hat Luffy

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Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 3.5k

On the first day in Alabasta, you had a checkup with a doctor. They were happy to report you were closing out your first trimester with a healthy baby. Everything looked perfect, they said.

While you were grateful for the update, you still wished Marco was giving you this information. It made you nervous trusting strangers with information like this, even with fake names and disguises.

On the second day, you and Ace did more research, trying to figure out the exact location of this bounty hunter who claimed to have captured Teach. There were a few rumors that stemmed up north into the desert, but neither you nor Ace were going to head off in the desert without more concrete information.

And on the third day, you met Straw Hat Luffy.

“I wish you’d cover up those tattoos,” you hissed to Ace as you walked through the crowd. “People are going to notice it.”

“Can’t cover up my pride and joy, now!” Ace laughed, walking up to a booth. “Say, madam, have you seen this man?” He showed the woman Luffy’s bounty poster.

“Sorry,” the old woman said. “If I were you, I’d try the restaurant up ahead. The owner there knows plenty of people.”

“Ah, thank you.” Ace gave a deep bow, and he grabbed your hand and set off for the tavern. “Are you hungry?”

You nodded. The heat was starting to get to you, making you too tired to speak. You really hated this inability to self-regulate your temperature.

The two of you sat at the bar, making small talk with the owner while you picked at your meal. Ace, on the other hand, put away plate after plate of food. He always did have a massive appetite.

“Gonna run to the bathroom,” you said, giving a tense smile. What you had eaten didn’t seem to be settling well with your stomach.

“You need me?” Ace asked, but you shook your head and took off down the hall.

You locked the bathroom door and took a deep breath, trying to make your stomach calm down. Unfortunately, your body had the opposite reaction, and your meal came back up and went straight into the toilet.

“Listen, you,” you hissed to your stomach. “I’m going to need you to stop doing this. I know it’s hot and you’re miserable, but we’re in this together and I’m miserable too. So please, stop-”

A knock came at the door, making you stop your one-sided conversation.

“I told you, I’m fine!” you shouted out in frustration. You quickly cleaned yourself up, flushed down your meal, and swung the door open. “I mean honestly, A-”

The person standing in front of you was not Ace. It was a smaller woman, with short, dark hair and pink-rimmed glasses.

“I am so sorry,” you rushed to say. “I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s okay!” The girl gave a nervous laugh. “You sure you’re okay, though? You look a little pale.”

“Just queasy,” you admitted. “The desert sun is really getting to me.”

“Tell me about it!” she groaned. “It’s so hot here! Good luck!”

“You too!”

You returned to the dining room to find Ace face down in his food. Maybe he hadn’t gotten as much sleep as he claimed to over the past few days.

“Ace!” you shouted, smacking the back of his head. “Get up! You’re eating!”

He groaned and sat up, looking around as he tried to figure out where he was. As he slowly returned to his senses, you returned your attention to the owner.

“So, do you know who this man is?” you asked, pulling out your copy of Luffy’s bounty poster and placing it on the table.

“Sorry,” the man said. “I haven’t seen him before.”

You groaned. You were certain Luffy should be here by now based on the reports you heard from the Navy a few days ago.

“Wow, that really hit the spot!” Ace said to the owner. “Thanks so mu-”

“I’m surprised you’re bold enough to eat out in public, Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. Portgas D. Ace.” The deep voice came from the doorway of the establishment, and your goosebumps formed across your arms.

“Told you,” you hissed, your heartbeat picking up speed.

Chatter picked up across the restaurant, everyone suddenly fearing their life because of the man sitting next to you.

“Got anything on this guy?” he murmured to you during the chaos.

If you could figure out who he was, you could figure out how to best him. You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man who had discovered Ace’s identity.

“Captain Smoker, I believe. Has a logia fruit like us.”

“Great,” Ace groaned. “Remember what kind?”

“Smoke, I believe.”

He chuckled. “A little on the nose, don’t ya think?”

“He smokes, too.” You suppressed a grin, trying your hardest not to laugh. “Two cigars.”

Ace chuckled. “Shut up. You’re joking.”

“Something with his sword is bad news. I can’t remember. It’s-”

Smoker interrupted you, still speaking to Ace. “What’s a famous big-shot pirate like you doing in this country?”

Ace turned and smirked at the Captain. “I’m looking for my little brother. So what do you want from me?”

Smoker chuckled. “I want you to come quietly and turn yourself in.”

“No,” Ace said. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Thought so,” Smoker sighed. “I have no interest in capturing you. I’m looking for another pirate at the moment.”

“So look the other way,” Ace offered.

“Can’t.” Smoker turned his head slightly, addressing you now. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away. This man is a dangerous pirate.”

You laughed. “Dangerous is a bit overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“Hey!” Ace pouted. “I’m dangerous!”

“Listen Captain.” You turned around in your chair, facing Smoker now. You could see his eyes widen in recognition, and you smirked. “We’re just enjoying our meal. One we already paid for. Can’t we just eat in peace and we’ll be on our way?”

“You know I can’t do that, Newgate.” You could see his irritation deepen, knowing the odds he was up against with not just one, but two fire users. Smoker’s fist clenched, smoke beginning to pour out. “Not as long as I’m a Marine, and you’re a pirate.”

“Get ready to run,” Ace whispered to you, and then turned back to the Captain. “Let’s have some fun!”

You could feel the tension rising as the two men waited for the other to make the first move.

Suddenly, Smoker was launched forward, crashing into Ace and sending the two of them wrecking through the walls together.

Where Ace once sat, a young man now stood. A young man with a very familiar straw hat.

You grinned at the realization of his identity, and looked at the owner. “Get him whatever he wants,” you said.

“Hey! Thanks lady!” Luffy grinned, immediately picking up food and devouring it. “This place is so yummy!”

“Thank you,” the owner said. “But you should probably run…those guys you just sent through the wall…”

“What guys?” Luffy asked, still shoving food in his mouth. “Those are weird holes in your walls! Is it your hobby or something?”

“You caused it!” the owner shouted.

“Me? When?”

“Just eat, Luffy,” you laughed. “We can solve that mystery later.”

“Okay!” He didn’t even question how you knew his name. This kid had so much to learn.

Luffy somehow ate more than Ace, which was an impressive feat. Those brothers sure knew how to put food away. You kept your eyes on him, watching him endearingly. You understood why Ace was so fond of him; he certainly was a unique character.

“Straw Hat!” Smoker bellowed, emerging from the hole he caused. “I’ve been searching for you! So you finally did come to Alabasta.”

Luffy didn’t react to a Navy Captain standing in front of him. He just kept eating, staring straight ahead. He was quite the character indeed.

“Quit eating!” Smoker yelled, causing a smile to dance upon your lips.

Luffy suddenly scooped all of his food into his mouth. “Thanks for the food!” He mumbled, and he took off down the street. You threw a couple hundred berries down for the food and took off after him.

“Hey you two!” Smoker called out. “Halt!”

You followed Luffy, quick on his heels in pursuit. You couldn’t let him get away from you, not after you had just found him.

“Slow down, Luffy!” you hollered at Luffy, but that only made him speed up faster.

“Straw Hat!” The girl you met in the bathroom quickly unsheathed a sword, swinging at Luffy.

“No!” you screamed, but Luffy quickly dodged the attack and jumped onto the rooftop.

Damn him. You couldn’t get up there without using your powers. You ran alongside the building, wracking your brain on the routes he would choose to run while Smoker was pursuing him.

Thankfully you didn’t have to figure it out for long, because he fell down into an alleyway almost immediately.

“Luffy!” You pulled him out of the rubble, and took his hand as you sprinted down the street. “Come on!”

“You’re the lady that paid for my meal!” he yelled. “Thanks for that!”

“Thank me later! Let’s go!”

The two of you weaved through town, trying to find somewhere to ditch the Navy, but you couldn’t seem to shake them.

Suddenly, Luffy stopped in his tracks, and you snapped back to him. You had forgotten he was made of rubber.

“Zoro!” Luffy called. “Is that where you guys are?!”

“Luffy!” you shouted as he dragged you along. “Don’t lead them-”

“Idiot!” one of his crew members shouted. “Get rid of them first!”

“What are you doing?!” Luffy yelled, passing his crew as he dragged you along with him. “Let’s go!”

“Straw Hat is mine!” Smoker shouted.

“Go!” you shouted. You would have to block the attack physically. You didn’t have the ability to pull your bracelet off in time to retaliate.

“I won’t let you get away!” Smoker shouted. “White Blow!”

You shielded Luffy, pushing him further and running as fast as you could.

“Heat Haze!” Ace’s voice shouted from above, and you felt immediate relief. Ace was here. Everything was okay now.

Everyone stopped, turning around to admire the fire trick that had just been performed.

“Give it up,” Ace smirked, staring at Smoker as he placed himself between the Navy and the Straw Hat Crew. “You may be smoke, but I’m fire.”

If it weren’t such an intense moment, you’d boo him for such a lame joke. His lame dad jokes were already starting to take form, you feared.

“Who is he?” One of Luffy’s crew mates asked. “Why is he even helping us?”

“Ace?!” Luffy called out in disbelief.

Ace looked over his shoulder, just for a moment. “You haven’t changed at all, Luffy.”

Luffy’s jaw was on the ground, quite literally. “Ace?! You ate a devil fruit?!”

“The flame-flame fruit,” Ace said, giving his little brother a wink. “You guys run. I’ll catch up. And take care of that girl, will you?”

“No way,” you said, scowling. “I’m staying with you, Ace.”

“Like hell,” Ace shot back. “Go with them. Be safe. Being here will only put you in danger.”

“Ace-”

“I’ve got you!” The blonde haired man said, scooping you up into his arms. “I won’t let anything happen to you, my love!”

“Tie her up!” Ace hollered, returning to the battle at hand. “She’ll burn your ship to the ground if you don’t!”

“Let me go!” You screamed. You tried to break free, but the man’s grip on you was iron tight. “Ace-”

“We’ll get you to safety right away!” The man took off down the road, heading for the shore.

“Ace!” you screamed again, but it was clear nobody was listening to you. Any struggling you did was futile, but you still squirmed beneath the blonde man’s grip, trying to get free.

“Hey, Luffy!” The orange haired girl called out. “Who is that guy anyway?”

Luffy cackled at her question. “He’s my brother!”

The entire crew looked shocked at this announcement. “Brother!?”

A giant fireball erupted behind you, causing everyone to stop and look.

You cursed under your breath. If Ace would let you fight, you would be able to keep Smoker at bay for longer and more effectively.

“Luffy, is he really your brother? What’s he doing on the Grand Line?” The tangerine-haired girl asked.

“Ace is a pirate,” Luffy explained. “He set off three years before me to find the One Piece.” Luffy looked at you, still locked in Sanji’s arms. “I’m guessing you’re a part of his crew, right?”

You gave a dry laugh. “In a sense.”

“Wow!” Luffy gawked. “I can’t wait to meet everyone! I bet he has an awesome crew!”

You almost burst his bubble, but the fireball grew bigger in the sky; the battle between smoke and fire raging.

“We should get back to the ship! Left everyone!” The girl giving out commands had to be the navigator. It was the only thing that made sense. Plus, she wore the log pose.

The others, you weren’t so sure about. There was certainly a swordsman, one who had three swords for some reason, and a strange dog mascot. But the other three weren’t as obvious.

They loaded you onto the boat, and the swordsman and navigator worked together to tie you to the mast.

“This isn’t necessary,” you said as sweetly as possible. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

“Ace said you’d burn the ship to the ground,” The navigator said. “We can’t take that risk. We have places to be.”

“You can’t go far without your captain,” you grumbled, trying your best to get comfortable. You had a feeling you’ve be tied up for a while.

“Our captain is right…” the navigator’s words fell off as she glanced around the ship. “Uhm, where is Luffy?”

“That idiot!” the swordsman yelled.

They all began shouting at each other, and you took note of their names. The orange-haired navigator was Nami, the blonde was Sanji, blue-hair was Vivi, black-hair was Usopp, and green-hair was Zoro. The pet dog was Chopper, who you had to assume was some kind of experiment or devil fruit ability.

Nami took off anyway, their ship coasting back and forth along the view of the shore, waiting for any sign of Luffy and Ace.

You could move your wrists in their restraints just enough to work your bracelet off your wrist. It would be long and tedious work, but if you did it right, the crew wouldn’t even realize you had a plan. Afterall, none of them even knew you had an ability. You’d be able to take them by surprise and get out before they even realized what you were doing.

“Found him!” Usopp called down from the crow’s nest. “I found Luffy!”

Luffy suddenly appeared at the ship, slamming into Sanji and Chopper to help break his fall. Now that you had calmed down and decided on an escape plan, watching them interact with each other was quite entertaining.

“Even before he ate a devil fruit, I never beat Ace in a fight!” Luffy let out a resounding cackle, and you perked up at your commander’s name. “I lost all the time!”

“There’s a real person you could never beat?” Nami asked. You wanted to laugh at her surprise. There were probably several people Luffy wouldn’t be able to beat yet. He was still just a rookie.

But you didn’t say anything. Let the crew forget you were there. It would be easier to overtake them that way.

“But I’d win now if we tried!” Luffy said, letting another round of laughs fill the air.

“Who could win what now?” Ace’s voice called out, and he jumped up and perched on the railing of the boat.

Seeing him made your anger flare up, but you couldn’t let your emotions get the best of you. The bracelet was so close to slipping off. You were almost there.

“Ace!” Luffy cheered. “This is my crew I was telling you about!”

“Oh!” Ace bowed to the group. “Thank you all for taking care of my little brother.”

“Oh! Not at all!” They all said in chorus.

“He may be a bit much for you to handle, but take good care of him.”

The sea prism stone bracelet slipped off your wrist, and lava coursed back through your veins.

“I’m sure you have a lot-”

The ropes around your wrists and chest burned instantly, and you jumped up to where the crew was congregating. You instantly bulldozed through them, burning anyone who stood in your way.

“Ouch!” Luffy cried, scampering away. “She’s hot!”

You slammed your body into Ace, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling over the side of the ship. He cried out in panic, reaching up for something to hold onto, and you grabbed his hand to prevent him from falling any further. You glared at him, letting him dangle over the water.

“Don’t you ever leave me again!” you screamed at him. “Promise!”

Ace gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about that, love. It won’t happen again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, starting to turn up the heat in your hand, his only lifeline to safety.

“I promise!” Ace shouted, desperately trying to grab onto something on the side of the ship. “I promise I won’t leave you again.”

You nodded, satisfied with his promise, and pulled him back onto the boat.

The crew stared at you, all of them shocked by your actions. Ace laughed nervously, but threw his arm around your shoulder. “So…This is my girl,” Ace said, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re the one who let me eat whatever I wanted!” Luffy said, jumping up to his feet. “Thanks for that!”

“Sure,” you smiled at the overenthusiastic boy, your anger already fading. “I’m guessing you love food about as much as your brother.”

“Probably even more,” Ace hummed, and you laughed at that.

“I can make some tea,” Sanji offered. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

“Oh no, no.” Ace shook his head. “Don’t do it just for us.”

“There is no way this guy is Luffy’s brother,” Nami mumbled. “He’s way too polite.”

“He’s such a nice guy!” Zoro whispered. “Who just cares about his brother!”

“Brothers are so wonderful!” Chopper sobbed.

“See!” Luffy grinned a toothy smile. “Aren’t these guys awesome?!”

You held back laughter. It reminded you of your family back on the Moby Dick. The way you and Whitey and Brew would all joke around with Marco and Thatch and the other commanders.

The thought made your heart pang with sadness, reminded that your family would never truly be back together again. It would never feel complete without Thatch. And you had no idea when you would see Whitey or Brew again.

“The Billions ships!” Vivi’s cry broke through your thoughts, and you followed her gaze to the horizon.

“Oh, those guys again?” Luffy said, staring out at the ships. There were probably only about ten; easy work for you and Ace.

“Shall we?” Ace asked you, holding out his arm.

Excitement flooded your body, and you grabbed onto his arm. Finally, some action was about to happen. And you would get to be a part of it.

“Luffy!” Ace called. “We’ll take care of them!”

The two of you jumped down onto Ace’s Striker and took off towards the ships.

“You want the front line or the back?” Ace asked. Five ships for each of you.

“You take front.” You grinned up at him from your seat. “Show off for your little brother.”

Ace gave you a smirk, and then jumped off the boat. You quickly took over, using your power to heat the engine and propel the ship forward. You could feel your stomach starting to gurgle, and you groaned.

“Just hang on a little bit longer,” you murmured. “Let me do something cool, mmkay?”

You reached the second line of ships and jumped up, sending a giant blast of lava through the hull of every single ship that stood in your way. The ships all broke apart, incinerating instantly at contact with your power.

You landed back on the Striker and took off to the other side, watching Ace carefully to anticipate where he would land.

In midair, he sent out a wall of flames that crashed through every single boat, ripping them in half. The cloth sails were gone before they had a chance to land in the water, and you could see people jumping off the ship into the ocean to avoid the raging fires.

You scrambled back to your seat as Ace landed in his place, chuckling softly at the scene that laid out before the two of you.

“Show off,” you muttered playfully.

“You’re one to talk. There’s nothing left of your ships.” He bent down and gave you a quick kiss, and then the two of you took off back towards Luffy's ship, satisfied with the work you had done.

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hopelesslys-world · 10 months

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50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 3

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

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*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐂𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂.

“But what was he doing at Clayton’s?” Her curiosity oozes through the phone. I’m in the depths of the stock room, trying to keep my voice casual.

“He was in the area.”

“I think that is one huge coincidence, Y/N/N. You don’t think he was there to see you?” she speculates. My heart lurches at the prospect, but it’s a short-lived joy. The dull, disappointing reality is that he was here on business.

“He was visiting the farming division of WSU. He’s funding some research,” I mutter.

“Oh yes. He’s given the department a $2.5 million grant.”

Wow.

“How do you know this?”

“Y/N/N, I’m a journalist, and I’ve written a profile on the guy. It’s my job to know this.”

“Okay, Carla Bernstein, keep your hair on. So do you want these photos?”

“Of course I do. The question is, who’s going to do them and where.”

“We could ask him where. He says he’s staying in the area.”

“You can contact him?”

“I have his cell phone number.”

Bella gasps. “The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor in Washington State, just gave you his cell phone number.”

��Er… yes.”

“Y/N! He likes you. No doubt about it.” Her tone is emphatic.

“Bella, he’s just trying to be nice.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true – Christian Grey doesn’t do nice. He does polite, maybe. And a small quiet voice whispers, perhaps Bella is right. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Bella didn’t do the interview.

I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment. Bella brings me back to the now.

“I don’t know who we’ll get to do the shoot. Levi, our regular photographer, can’t. He’s home in Idaho Falls for the weekend. He’ll be pissed that he blew an opportunity to photo one of America’s leading entrepreneurs.”

“Hmm… What about José?”

“Great idea! You ask him – he’ll do anything for you. Then call Grey and find out where he wants us.” Bella is irritatingly cavalier about José.

“I think you should call him.”

“Who, José?” Bella scoffs.

“No, Grey.”

“Y/N/N, you’re the one with the relationship.”

“Relationship?” I squeak at her, my voice rising several octaves. “I barely know the guy, give me a break Bella.” I roll my eyes.

“At least you’ve met him,” she says bitterly. “And it looks like he wants to know you better. Y/N/N, just call him,” she snaps and hangs up. She is so bossy sometimes. I frown at my cell, sticking my tongue out at it.

I’m just leaving a message for José when Paul enters the stock room looking for sandpaper.

“We’re kind of busy out there, Y/N,” he says without acrimony.

“Yeah, um, sorry,” I mutter, turning to leave.

“So, how come you know Christian Grey?” Paul’s voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.

“I had to interview him for our student newspaper. Bella wasn’t well.” I shrug, trying to sound casual and doing no better than him.

“Christian Grey in Clayton’s. Go figure,” Paul snorts, amazed. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, want to grab a drink or something this evening?”

Whenever he’s home he asks me on a date, and I always say no. It’s a ritual. I’ve never considered it a good idea to date the boss’s brother, and besides, Paul is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he’s no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Is Grey? My subconscious asks me. I shut her down.

“Don’t you have a family dinner or something for your brother?”

“That’s tomorrow.”

“Maybe some other time, Paul. I need to study tonight. I have my finals next week.”

“Y/N, one of these days, you’ll say yes,” he smiles as I escape out to the store floor.

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“But I do places, Y/N/N, not people,” José groans.

“José, please?” I beg. Clutching my cell, I pace the living area of our apartment, staring out of the window at the fading evening light.

“Give me that phone.” Bella grabs the handset from me, tossing her silken red-blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Listen here, José Rodriquez, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you’ll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?” Bella can be awesomely tough.

“Good. Y/N/N will call back with the location and the call time. We’ll see you tomorrow.” She snaps my cell phone shut.

“Sorted. All we need to do now is decide where and when. Call him.” She holds the phone out to me. My stomach twists.

“Call Grey, now!”

I scowl at her and reach into my back pocket for his business card. I take a deep, steadying breath, and with shaking fingers, I dial the number.

He answers on the second ring. His tone is clipped, calm and cold. “Grey.”

“Err… Mr. Grey? It’s Y/N Y/L/N.” I don’t recognize my own voice, I’m so nervous. There’s a brief pause. Inside I’m quaking.

“Miss Y/L/N. How nice to hear from you.” His voice has changed. He’s surprised, I think, and he sounds so… warm – seductive even. My breath hitches, and I flush.

I’m suddenly conscious that Isabella Clark is staring at me, her mouth open, and I dart into the kitchen to avoid her unwanted scrutiny.

“Err – we’d like to go ahead with the photo-shoot for the article.”

Breathe, Y/N, breathe.

My lungs drag in a hasty breath. “Tomorrow, if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?”

I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone. “I’m staying at the Heathman in Portland. Shall we say, nine thirty tomorrow morning?”

“Okay, we’ll see you there.” I am all gushing and breathy – like a child, not a grown woman who can vote and drink legally in the State of Washington.

“I look forward to it, Miss Y/L/N.” I visualize the wicked gleam in his gray eyes. How can he make seven little words hold so much tantalizing promise?

I hang up. Bella is in the kitchen, and she’s staring at me with a look of complete and utter consternation on her face.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. You like him! I’ve never seen or heard you so, so… affected by anyone before. You’re actually blushing.”

“Bella.” I whined. “You know I blush all the time. It’s an occupational hazard with me. Don’t be so ridiculous,” I snap. She blinks at me with surprise – I very rarely throw my toys out of the pram – and I briefly relent. “I just find him… intimidating, that’s all.”

“Heathman, that figures,” mutters Bella. “I’ll give the manager a call and negotiate a space for the shoot.”

“I’ll make supper. Then I need to study.” I cannot hide my irritation with her as I open one of cupboards to make spaghetti and meatballs.

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I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoky gray eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding.

Oh, I’m going to look just great tomorrow with so little sleep, I scold myself. I punch my pillow and try to settle.

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The Heathman is nestled in the downtown heart of Portland. Its impressive brown stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s.

José, Travis, and I are traveling in my Beetle, and Bella is in her CLK, since we can’t all fit in my car. Travis is José’s friend and gopher, here to help out with the lighting. Bella has managed to acquire the use of a room at the Heathman free of charge for the morning in exchange for a credit in the article.

When she explains at reception that we’re here to photograph Christian Grey CEO, we are instantly upgraded to a suite. Just a regular-sized suite, however, as apparently Mr. Grey is already occupying the largest one in the building. An over-keen marketing executive shows us up to the suite – he’s terribly young and very nervous for some reason.

I suspect it’s Bella’s beauty and commanding manner that disarms him, because he’s putty in her hands. The rooms are elegant, understated, and opulently furnished.

It’s nine. We have half an hour to set up. Bella is in full flow.

“José, I think we’ll shoot against that wall, do you agree?” She doesn’t wait for his reply. “Travis, clear the chairs. Y/N/N, could you ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments? And let Grey know where we are.”

Yes, Mistress. She is so domineering. I roll my eyes, but do as I’m told.

Half an hour later, Christian Grey walks into our suite. He’s wearing a white shirt, open at the collar, and grey flannel pants that hang from his hips. His unruly hair is still damp from a shower.

My mouth goes dry looking at him… he’s so freaking hot. Grey is followed into the suite by a man in his mid-thirties, all buzz-cut and stubble in a sharp dark suit and tie who stands silently in the corner. His hazel eyes watch us impassively.

“Miss Y/L/N, we meet again.” Grey extends his hand, and I shake it, biting my lip out of habit.

Oh my… he really is, quite… wow.

As I touch his hand, I’m aware of that delicious current running right through me, lighting me up, making me blush, and I’m sure my erratic breathing must be audible.

“Mr. Grey, this is Isabella Clark,” I waved my hand toward Bella who comes forward, looking him squarely in the eye.

“The tenacious Miss Clark. How do you do?” He gives her a small smile, looking genuinely amused. “I trust you’re feeling better? Y/N said you were unwell last week.”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Grey.” She shakes his hand firmly without batting an eyelid.

I remind myself that Bella has been to the best private schools in Washington. Her family has money, and she’s grown up confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn’t take any crap. I am in awe of her.

“Thank you for taking the time to do this.” She gives him a polite, professional smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” he answers, turning his gray gaze on me, and I flush, again. Damn it.

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*𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙉'𝙎 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

Is it just me who makes her blush? The thought pleases me.

“This is José Rodriguez, our photographer,” Y/N says, and her face lights up as she introduces him.

Shit. Is this the boyfriend?

Rodriguez blooms under Y/N’s sweet smile.

Are they fucking?

“Mr. Grey.” Rodriguez gives me a dark look as we shake hands. It’s a warning. He’s telling me to back off. He likes her. He likes her a lot.

Well, game on, kid.

“Mr. Rodriguez, where would you like me?” My tone is a challenge, and he hears it, but Isabella intervenes and waves me toward a chair.

Ah. She likes to be in charge. The thought amuses me as I sit.

Another young man who appears to be working with Rodriguez switches on the lights, and momentarily I’m blinded.

Hell!

As the glare recedes I search out the lovely Miss Y/L/N. She’s standing at the back of the room, observing the proceedings. Does she always shy away like this? Maybe that’s why she and Clark are friends; she’s content to be in the background and let Isabella take center stage.

Hmm…a natural submissive.

The photographer appears professional enough and absorbed in the job he’s been assigned to do. I regard Miss Y/L/N as she watches both of us. Our eyes meet; hers are honest and innocent, and for a moment I reconsider my plan. But then she bites her lip and my breath catches in my throat.

Back down, Y/N. I will her to stop staring, and as if she can hear me, she’s the first to look away.

Good girl.

Isabella asks me to stand as Rodriguez continues to take snaps. Then we’re done and this is my chance.

“Thank you again, Mr. Grey.” Isabella surges forward and shakes my hand, followed by the photographer, who regards me with ill-concealed disapproval. His antagonism makes me smile.

Oh, man…you have no idea.

“I look forward to reading the article, Miss Clark” I say, giving her a brief polite nod. It’s Y/N I want to talk to. “Will you walk with me, Miss Y/L/N?” I ask, when I reach her by the door.

“Sure,” she says with surprise.

Seize the day, Grey.

I mutter some platitude to those still in the room and usher her out the door, wanting to put some distance between her and Rodriguez. In the corridor she stands fiddling with her hair, then her fingers, as Taylor follows me out.

“I’ll call you, Taylor,” I say, and when he’s almost out of earshot I ask Y/N to join me for coffee, my breath held for her response.

Her long lashes flicker over her eyes. “I have to drive everyone home,” she says with dismay.

“Taylor,” I call after him, making her jump. I must make her nervous and I don’t know if this is good or bad. And she can’t stop fidgeting. Thinking about all the ways I could make her stop is distracting.

“Are they based at the university?” She nods and I ask Taylor to take her friends home.

“There. Now can you join me for coffee?”

“Um—Mr. Grey, er—this really…” She stops.

Shit. It’s a “no.” I’m going to lose this deal. She looks directly at me, eyes bright. “Look, Taylor doesn’t have to drive them home. I’ll swap vehicles with Bella, if you give me a moment.”

My relief is tangible and I grin. I have a date!

Opening the door, I let her back into the room as Taylor conceals his puzzled look.

“Can you grab my jacket, Taylor?”

“Certainly, sir.”

He turns on his heel, his lips twitching as he heads up the corridor. I watch him with narrowed eyes as he disappears into the elevator while I lean against the wall and wait for Miss Y/L/N.

What the hell am I going to say to her?

“How would you like to be my submissive?”

No. Steady, Grey. Let’s take this one stage at a time. Taylor is back within a couple of minutes, holding my jacket.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

He gives it to me and leaves me standing like an idiot in the corridor.

How long is Y/N going to be? I check my watch. She must be negotiating the car swap with Bella. Or she’s talking to Rodriguez, explaining that she’s just going for coffee to placate me and keep me sweet for the article. My thoughts darken. Maybe she’s kissing him good-bye.

Fuck.

She emerges a moment later, and I’m pleased. She doesn’t look like she’s just been kissed.

“Okay,” she says with resolve. “Let’s do coffee.” But her reddening cheeks somewhat undermine her effort to look confident.

“After you, Miss Y/L/N.” I conceal my delight as she falls into step ahead of me. As I catch up with her my curiosity is piqued about her relationship with Isabella, specifically their compatibility. I ask her how long they’ve known each other.

“Since our freshman year. She’s a good friend.” Her voice is full of warmth. Y/N is clearly devoted. She came all the way to Seattle to interview me when Isabella was ill, and I find myself hoping that Miss Clark treats her with the same loyalty and respect.

At the elevators I press the call button and almost immediately the doors open. A couple in a passionate embrace spring apart, embarrassed to be caught. Ignoring them, we step into the elevator, but I catch Y/N’s impish smile.

As we travel to the first floor the atmosphere is thick with unfulfilled desire. And I don’t know if it’s emanating from the couple behind us or from me.

Yes. I want her. Will she want what I have to offer?

I’m relieved when the doors open again and I take her hand, which is cool and not clammy as expected. Perhaps I don’t affect her as much as I’d like. The thought is disheartening.

In our wake we hear embarrassed giggling from the couple.

“What is it about elevators?” I mutter. And I have to admit there’s something wholesome and naïve about their giggling that’s totally charming. Miss Y/L/N seems that innocent, just like them, and as we walk onto the street I question my motives again.

She’s too young. She’s too inexperienced, but, fucking hell, I like the feel of her hand in mine. In the coffee shop I direct her to find a table and ask what she wants to drink.

She stutters through her order: English Breakfast tea—hot water, bag on the side. That’s a new one to me.

“No coffee?”

“I’m not keen on coffee.”

“Okay, bag-out tea. Sugar?”

“No thanks,” she says, staring down at her fingers.

“Anything to eat?”

“No thank you.” She shakes her head and tosses her hair over her shoulder, highlighting glints of auburn.

I have to wait in line while the two matronly women behind the counter exchange inane pleasantries with all their customers. It’s frustrating and keeping me from my objective: Anastasia.

“Hey, handsome, what can I get you?” the older woman asks with a twinkle in her eye.

It’s just a pretty face, sweetheart.

“I’ll have a coffee with steamed milk. English Breakfast tea. Teabag on the side. And a blueberry muffin.”

Y/N might change her mind and eat.

“You visiting Portland?”

“Yes.”

“The weekend?”

“Yes.”

“The weather sure has picked up today.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you get out to enjoy some sunshine.”

Please stop talking to me and hurry the fuck up. “Yes,” I hiss through my teeth and glance over at Y/N, who quickly looks away.

She’s watching me. Is she checking me out? A bubble of hope swells in my chest.

“There you go.” The woman winks and places the drinks on my tray. “Pay at the register, honey, and you have a nice day.”

I manage a cordial response. “Thank you.”

At the table Y/N is staring at her fingers, reflecting on heaven knows what.

Me?

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.

She jumps and turns red as I set out her tea and my coffee. She sits mute and mortified. Why?

Does she really not want to be here?

“Your thoughts?” I ask again, and she fidgets with the teabag.

“This is my favorite tea,” she says, and I revise my mental note that it’s Twinings English Breakfast tea she likes. I watch her dunk the teabag in the teapot. It’s an elaborate and messy spectacle. She fishes it out almost immediately and places the used teabag on her saucer.

My mouth is twitching with my amusement. She likes her tea weak.

Enough of this preamble; it’s time for some due diligence in this deal. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Her brows knit together, forming a small v above her nose.

“Who?”

This is a good response.

“The photographer. José Rodriguez.”

She laughs. At me.

At me!

And I don’t know if it’s from relief or if she thinks I’m funny. It’s annoying. I can’t get her measure. Does she like me or not? She tells me he’s just a friend.

Oh, sweetheart, he wants to be more than a friend.

“Why did you think he was my boyfriend?” she asks.

“The way you smiled at him, and he at you.” You have no idea, do you? The boy is smitten.

“He’s more like family,” she says.

Okay, so the lust is one-sided, and for a moment I wonder if she realizes how lovely she is. She eyes the blueberry muffin as I peel back the paper. “Do you want some?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No thanks.” Her voice is hesitant and she stares once more at her hands. Why is she so jittery? Maybe because of me?

“And the boy I met yesterday, at the store. He’s not your boyfriend?”

“No. Paul’s just a friend. I told you yesterday.” She frowns again as if she’s confused, and crosses her arms in defense. She doesn’t like being asked about these boys. I remember how uncomfortable she seemed when the kid at the store put his arm around her, staking his claim. “Why do you ask?” she adds.

“You seem nervous around men.”

Her eyes widen. They really are beautiful, the color is truly majestic. I should take her there.

“I find you intimidating,” she says, and looks down, fidgeting once more with her fingers. On the one hand she’s so submissive, but on the other she’s…challenging.

“You should find me intimidating.”

Yeah. She should. There aren’t many people brave enough to tell me that I intimidate them. She’s honest, and I tell her so—but when she averts her eyes, I don’t know what she’s thinking. It’s frustrating.

Does she like me? Or is she tolerating this meeting to keep Clark’s interview on track?

Which is it?

“You’re a mystery, Miss Y/L/N.”

“There’s nothing mysterious about me.”

“I think you’re very self-contained.” Like any good submissive. “Except when you blush, of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing about.” There. That will goad her into a response. Popping a small piece of the blueberry muffin into my mouth, I await her reply.

“Do you always make such personal observations?”

That’s not that personal, is it? “I hadn’t realized I was. Have I offended you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“But you’re very high-handed.”

“I’m used to getting my own way, Y/N In all things.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she mutters, and then wants to know why I haven’t asked her to call me by my first name.

What?

And I remember her leaving my office in the elevator—and how my name sounded coming out of her mouth. Has she seen through me? Is she deliberately antagonizing me? I tell her that no one calls me Christian, except my family…

I don’t even know if it’s my real name.

Don’t go there, Grey.

I change the subject. I want to know about her.

“Are you an only child?”Her eyelashes flutter several times before she answers that she is.

“Tell me about your parents.”

She rolls her eyes and I have to fight the compulsion to scold her.

“My mom lives in Georgia with her new husband, Bob. My stepdad lives in Montesano.”

Of course I know all this from Welch’s background check, but it’s important to hear it from her. Her lips soften with a fond smile when she mentions her stepdad.

“Your father?” I ask.

“My father died when I was a baby.”

For a moment I’m catapulted into my nightmares, looking at a prostrate body on a grimy floor. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“I don’t remember him,” she says, dragging me back to the now. Her expression is clear and bright, and I know that Raymond Y/L/N has been a good father to this girl. Her mother’s relationship with her, on the other hand—that remains to be seen.

“And your mother remarried?”

Her laugh is bitter. “You could say that.” But she doesn’t elaborate. She’s one of the few women I’ve met who can sit in silence. Which is great, but not what I want at the moment. “You’re not giving much away, are you?”

“Neither are you,” she parries.

Oh, Miss Y/L/N. Game on.

And it’s with great pleasure and a smirk that I remind her that she’s interviewed me already. “I can recollect some quite probing questions.”

Yes. You asked me if I was gay.

My statement has the desired effect and she’s embarrassed. She starts babbling about herself and a few details hit home. Her mother is an incurable romantic. I suppose someone on her fourth marriage is embracing hope over experience. Is she like her mother? I can’t bring myself to ask her. If she says she is—then I have no hope. And I don’t want this interview to end. I’m enjoying myself too much.

I ask about her stepfather and she confirms my hunch. It’s obvious she loves him. Her face is luminous when she talks about him: his job (he’s a carpenter), his hobbies (he likes European soccer and fishing). She preferred to live with him when her mom married the third time. Interesting.

She straightens her shoulders. “Tell me about your parents,” she demands, in an attempt to divert the conversation from her family. I don’t like talking about mine, so I give her the bare details. “My dad’s a lawyer, my mom is a pediatrician. They live in Seattle.”

“What do your siblings do?”

She wants to go there? I give her the short answer that Elliot works in construction and Mia is at cooking school in Paris.

She listens, rapt. “I hear Paris is lovely,” she says with a dreamy expression.

“It’s beautiful. Have you been there?”

“I’ve never left mainland USA.” The cadence in her voice falls, tinged with regret. I could take her there.

“Would you like to go?”

First Cabo, now Paris? Get a grip, Grey.

“To Paris? Of course. But it’s England that I’d really like to visit.” Her face brightens with excitement. Miss Y/L/N wants to travel. But why England? I ask her.

“It’s the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Brontë sisters, Thomas Hardy. I’d like to see the places that inspired those people to write such wonderful books.” It’s obvious this is her first love.

Books.

She said as much in Clayton’s yesterday. That means I’m competing with Darcy, Rochester, and Angel Clare: impossible romantic heroes. Here’s the proof I needed. She’s an incurable romantic, like her mother—and this isn’t going to work. To add insult to injury, she looks at her watch. She’s done. I’ve blown this deal.

“I’d better go. I have to study,” she says.

I offer to walk her back to her friend’s car, which means I’ll have the walk back to the hotel to make my case.

But should I?

“Thank you for the tea, Mr. Grey,” she says.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It’s my pleasure.” As I say the words I realize that the last twenty minutes have been…enjoyable. Giving her my most dazzling smile, guaranteed to disarm, I offer her my hand. “Come,” I say. She takes my hand, and as we walk back to The Heathman I can’t shake how agreeable her hand feels in mine.

Maybe this could work.

“Do you always wear skirts?” I ask.

“Mostly,” she says, and it's another great information about her added to the list; she almost always wears skirts…I like my women in skirts. I like them accessible.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks out of the blue, and it’s the third strike. I’m out of this fledgling deal. She wants romance, and I can’t offer her that.

“No, Y/N. I don’t do the girlfriend thing.”

Stricken with a frown, she turns abruptly and stumbles into the road.

“Shit, Ana!” I shout, tugging her toward me to stop her from falling in the path of an idiot cyclist who’s flying the wrong way up the street. All of a sudden she’s in my arms clutching my biceps, staring up at me. Her eyes are startled; they’re beautiful, more beautiful this close. Her pupils dilate and I know I could fall into her gaze and never return. She takes a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” My voice sounds alien and distant, and I realize she’s touching me and I don’t care. My fingers caress her cheek. Her skin is soft and smooth, and as I brush my thumb against her lower lip, my breath catches in my throat. Her body is pressed against mine, and the feel of her breasts and her heat through my shirt is arousing.

She has a fresh, wholesome fragrance that reminds me of my grandfather’s apple orchard. Closing my eyes, I inhale, committing her scent to memory. When I open them she’s still staring at me, entreating me, begging me, her eyes on my mouth.Shit. She wants me to kiss her.

And I want to. Just once. Her lips are parted, ready, waiting. Her mouth felt welcoming beneath my thumb.

No. No. No. Don’t do this, Grey.

She’s not the girl for you. She wants hearts and flowers, and you don’t do that shit.

I close my eyes to blot her out and fight the temptation, and when I open them again, my decision is made. “Y/N,” I whisper, “you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”

The little v forms between her brows, and I think she’s stopped breathing.

I step back and she releases her hold on me, yet weirdly, I don’t feel any relief. I slide my hands to her shoulders to ensure she can stand. Her expression clouds with humiliation. She’s mortified by my rebuff.

Hell. I didn’t mean to hurt you.

“I’ve got this,” she says, disappointment ringing in her clipped tone. She’s formal and distant, but she doesn’t move out of my hold. “Thank you,” she adds.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

And I want to tell her that I’m saving her from me…that it’s a noble gesture, but that’s not what she wants to hear. “That idiot was riding the wrong way. I’m glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you.” Now it’s me that’s babbling, and I still can’t let her go.

I offer to sit with her in the hotel, knowing it’s a ploy to prolong my time with her, and only then do I release her.

She shakes her head, her back ramrod stiff, and wraps her arms around herself in a protective gesture. A moment later she bolts across the street and I have to hurry to keep up with her.

When we reach the hotel, she turns and faces me once more, composed. “Thanks for the tea and

doing the photo shoot.” She regards me dispassionately and regret flares in my gut.

“Y/N…I…” I can’t think what to say, except that I’m sorry.

“What, Christian?” she snaps.

Whoa. She’s mad at me, pouring all the contempt she can into each syllable of my name. It’s novel. And she’s leaving. And I don’t want her to go. “Good luck with your exams.”

Her eyes flash with hurt and indignation. “Thanks,” she mutters, disdain in her tone. “Good-bye, Mr. Grey.” She turns away and strides up the street toward the underground garage. I watch her go, hoping that she’ll give me a second look, but she doesn’t. She disappears into the building, leaving in her wake a trace of regret, the memory of her beautiful blue eyes, and the scent of an apple orchard in the fall.

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[ series masterlist ]

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biocrafthero · 4 months

Text

An analysis of WKTD and HWBM in relation to psychology, Christianity, and oppression.

Spoilers for almost all of We Know The Devil and parts of Heaven Will Be Mine (only stuff from when you play as Saturn tho that’s the only character I’ve played as so far)

This post is very much off the cuff so it is quite messy but I really needed to put my thoughts into words, I guess. Hopefully it makes sense, and sorry if there’s any errors!

vvv Analysis under the cut because this post is LONG vvv

Okay because when WKTD said “the devil is the shadow of man cast from the light of god” and when HWBM said that the Existential Threat was just a byproduct of the shadow of humanity cast from gravity (via humanity’s Culture) its like the enemy that humans want to fight is just themselves. The concept of the “shadow self” (also called the id, but I’ll be using shadow instead) in psychology refers to the parts of oneself that does not fully fit in with what society expects of them (Super-ego) and sometimes separately from the true self (Ego), typically leading to rejection of those aspects and self-conflict.

Now, please note that I haven’t 100%’d HWBM but I have 100%’d WKTD, and in that game the true ending results in the main trio all becoming devils and embracing those sides of themselves they’ve been running from for the entire game. The thing I quoted earlier is an actual line from the game said by god, the line following it being “the meaning of this phrase is that there is no devil.” Only through self-acceptance and helping each other alongside ourselves do we really reach the true ending to these stores.

While WKTD leans more towards individuals, HWBM puts more emphasis on the idea of the collective shadow; the story still focuses on individuals, yes, but is very much about the conflict between a humanity that is tearing itself apart over the things that don’t fit the collective image. The main conflicts of the story focuses a lot on that general unrest, and was initially the Existential Threat, but after that dissipated humanity still saw its own shadow, this time in itself. An email you can find in the game even says that “In abandoning Existential Threats to address the threats of our home, it will inevitably result in us turning to conflict between humans one more. And in turn, the Existential Threat will thrive.” The Existential Threat literally feeds on unrest and trauma, manifesting as paranoia and leading humanity to fight it, only for them to find that they were just fighting their own literal shadow.

It’s also important to note that HWBM briefly mentions that the Existential Threat is tangentially related to “their cousins on Earth, and even those are so weak kids with radios can take them out”. This, while it can easily be seen as a nod to WKTD for those who played it, the fact that the reference is super blatant (along with the mention of the Scout programs, likely referring to groups like the Summer Scouts from WKTD) leads me to believe that these two stories exist in roughly the same universe (or at least their worlds do, maybe not the characters present in the stories themselves existing at the same time*). This is for a very specific reason, and it has to do with the themes both of these games are tackling, regarding acceptance of the self, both on an individual and societal level, symbolized by the apple.

Both games reference the apple when talking about the idea of becoming something new, sometimes even beyond humanity. It’s about the embracing of the shadow and all the parts of yourself, seeing yourself as a whole being and accepting all of it. The joy and contentment brought upon yourself by finally letting go of all that repression and division, even if the world around you is going to perceive those parts as scary or ugly. Bad endings in these games are brought about by rejection of the self, which makes sense considering all the themes around queerness and transcending one’s humanity, so obviously and fittingly the true endings focus on healing oneself by accepting all of their aspects as part of the greater whole.

The apple in these stories, especially noticeable in its original thematic incarnation in WKTD, is in reference to the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden from the Bible. Man was forbidden from eating the fruit, but Eve (VERY important to note that the dev studio is named Worst Girls Games btw) is tempted by the serpent (was not originally the devil, but came to be in the New Testament) to eat the fruit, which they do and become aware of themselves. God banishes them from the garden for breaking this rule he set out for them, also punishing the snake in the process due to how it tempted Adam and Eve. This incident is referred to as the “original sin.”

What is interesting about this part of the Bible though is what God says at the end of Genesis 3, right before the banishment actually occurs: “And the Lord God said, ‘The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.’” The specific wording of “become like one of us” in the context of the apple metaphors from the games from Worst Girls Games is super intriguing to me, mostly due to how the idea of becoming something new is super common throughout these stories—becoming the devil in WKTD, and becoming one’s Ship-Self in HWBM.

There’s also the framing of the serpent in these stories, as well. The serpent in modern Christianity is almost always depicted as the devil, tempting humanity away from God throughout almost the entire scripture. In the book of Revelation, the devil is said to have gone to direct war against God and fighting against his angels; “Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fight back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.” These verses can easily be seen in parallel to WKTD, with how the devil forms are said to be unstable and her world more fickle than god’s, and how in HWBM the Ship-Selves are delicately maintained by the Lunar Gravity Well.

But here’s the thing: the framing of the devil in these stories puts it in the position of being correct, with humanity making the right choice to follow it. This may sound strange, almost like villain behavior, until you remember these games deal with themes regarding repression of the self under an oppressive society, which is why these societies tend to be characterized by Evangelical conservative Christianity. Under this lens, alongside the themes of queerness and transcending humanity (rising to the throne of god, in a way), everything begins to click into place. The idea of being forced to live a certain way by a society that hates parts of your very being is killing our main characters, and they want a way out. The personification of the Collective Unconscious (ex: the devil) gives them this out—even if it’s less concrete and stable than the known world (the light), the unknown world (the darkness) is what truly gives our characters the freedom they desire.

They cannot do this alone, however, as we see in the Bible further into the book of Revelation, when the devil is aided by a beast from the sea and a beast from the earth, all three of them holding one another up and emphasizing one another’s’ powers and authorities. This, of course, most likely is reflected in the games in the main trios we play as. While I am still unsure about specifics, I trust you guys enough to understand what I’m getting at here, even if my speculations are likely flimsy at best. Either way, the idea gets across—the true endings for the games can only be obtained if everyone supports one another properly.

The scripture states that the devil does not have long on earth to do what he wishes (“… [The devil] is filled with fury, because he knows that his time is short.”), but that doesn’t stop him from trying at all. When it comes to the games, in WKTD the main trio stay in the cabin only for the night (player choices start at 7pm and the final one is at 1am, 2am onward being the ending you got, so choices go on for 6-7 in-universe hours), and in HWBM they have eight days to get back to earth before humanity declares them to be a threat. In both stories, our protagonists are all under strict time limits to do what they can in order to get the outcome they desire. As it’s said in WKTD, “the devil only ever gets one chance.”

Even though in the Bible the devil is ultimately defeated, in these games it’s the opposite. This is less about the theology they draw from and more having to do with undoing oppressive power structures through solidarity and community support while doing what you can to avoid infighting. Systems of hate and oppression are easily undone, which is why they put in so much work to scare you away from even trying to undo it and make you fall in line; resistance scares oppressors. Of course, resisting is not an easy task, but that’s just part of the work—they don’t call it a fight for no reason, after all.

Accepting all aspects of yourself and embracing that is the first small, yet very important step, to rejecting oppressive systems as a whole, and when society as a whole accepts what the system rejects, that system will inevitably fall, freeing those who are under it. Even though the world that comes after may be more uncertain and unstable that the last one, we still have each other to rely on and a foundation to build something greater and healthier than before.

So, roughly and basically…

Super-ego = God = Culture

Ego = Humanity (consistent throughout both games)

Projection = Light = Gravity

Resistance = Radio = Ship-Self

Shadow (personified by Collective Unconscious) = The Devil = Existential Threat

Acceptance (of the Shadow) = Apple (consistent throughout both games), characterized by devil possession forms and Ship-Selves (Ship-Selves are dual natured like that, I think)

… Or something like that. I dunno, I’m not a psychologist.

Once again, I have seen all of WKTD, so I can say these things concretely about that story. However, I have not seen all of HWBM, so it more so feels like I’m making guesses as to what happens in that one, so just bear with me. I’ll be super hype if I’m correct in my theory/analysis.

*On this note, it is very amusing to me to imagine the WKTD trio as space mech pilots. The idea of the main cast of HWBM having to deal with devil possessions is also very fun :3

Sources for information + screenshots I’m referencing

Wikipedia: Shadow (psychology) (links throughout the article lead to other things I’ve mentioned like the Collective Unconscious)

Bible Gateway: Genesis 3, Revelation 12, Revelation 13 (New International Version)

(from WKTD) (not my screenshot, stole this from my friend) (hi Ash <3) (platonic)

(I don’t have a screenshot of the line that comes afterwards or the line talking about the metaphorical apple in the epilogue of the true ending but I know they’re there. I have it in my brain. I’m too lazy to get a picture of it just trust me I know what I’m talking about trust)

(from HWBM) (screenshots taken by me)

(I don’t have absolutely everything either just work with me here sorry)

#rambles #hwbm #wktd #analysis #sorry guys I had a category 10 autism event and needed to get this out of my system #we know the devil #heaven will be mine

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 years

Text

tags: f!reader (afab), spoilers for anime onlys

a/n: after some very popular demand, here is another makima piece (more specifically a sequel to my last fic). this is not one of those standalone sequels however, it would be best to read the prequel to best understand this one.

man is the breast, heaven is the playground (prequel)

AO3

i. ハッピーエンド

“So, how’s the married life treating you?” Himeno deviated completely from what you were initially discussing.

Perhaps ‘marriage’ wasn’t too far off from what your relationship actually was. A life-binding contract was marriage in its own right. Despite your musings, however, the truth of Makima’s identity as the Control Devil was a secret. Even if it was Himeno, you wouldn’t let that fact slip. “It’s not the married life,” you replied instead. “But yes, things are going great. Does everyone still hate me for taking away their queen?” It was quite the uproar when you both announced your departure from the Devil Hunters. Makima received more flowers than you could carry on your last day. It had been several years since then and now you were nestled in Takamatsu in Kagawa Prefecture.

You managed to find work in translation, much to the joy of your family back home. “We have to meet this girl who got you to quit,” your mother insisted, she’d hear no objections. She might have wanted you to come home to your country in general, but she was happy nonetheless you were no longer hunting devils for a living.

Himeno’s snort told you as much. “I don’t think Nanaka will ever be over it.” Himeno snickered.

“I’m glad to hear she’s still alive and kicking regardless,” you replied honestly with a chuckle of your own. Even if you had never seen eye to eye, you wished the brunette the best as Himeno mentioned setting Nanaka up on a blind date. “How’s your new partner?”

Himeno’s voice was a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy. “Aki’s great, he’s still alive after all this time. I wish he’d just settle down now. I’m hoping this new division helps with that.”

Right, Himeno mentioned something about it before. A Division composed of tamed devils and fiends, though it would be terminated should there not be any good results. “Any new additions?”

“Since last time, the Blood Fiend actually. Other than that, there’s still just the Spider Devil with the Violence and Shark Fiends.”

“Any other blessings I should know about?” What about that Angel Devil you talked about? You still keeping his discovery secret?

“None for now.” Still my best kept secret in the village I found him in.

“I see.” Good for him.

It wasn’t too long ago Himeno had sent you a coded message detailing her orders. She requested that if things about him ever came to light, you and Makima would help somehow. The redhead didn’t seem too interested in this request, but she agreed when you asked. The Angel Devil is a peaceful one, Himeno detailed in her script. He doesn’t have what it takes to kill, so I just want him to stay with the humans that brought him up. The little guy even has a girlfriend. Humans and devils living in peace might be a reality one day, I’m just not naive enough to think that’ll happen overnight. Maybe that’s what won you over now that you thought about it.

“Well,” Himeno pulled you away from your thoughts and back into your conversation. “There is a Zombie Devil I’ll be snuffing out tomorrow morning, maybe that’ll be our new member.”

You grimaced at the thought of a zombifying-devil. “Even I think that’s a terrible idea and I’m the one who decided to become a devil hunter just so I could travel.”

“You think every idea I have is terrible.” Himeno whined.

“Not every idea,” you corrected with a teasing tone. “Only most of them.” Upon turning a corner, you viewed the welcoming sight of your apartment door. “But look, I’m just getting home so I’ll talk to you later. Try not to get yourself killed tomorrow.”

“Say ‘hi’ to the missus for me.” Himeno drawled before hanging up.

Still a maelstrom. It would always be a relief to hear from the playful devil hunter in spite of that maelstrom though. You sighed in satisfaction, reaching for your keys when the door opened on its own.

The breeze must have drifted your scent under the door, you figured, as you welcomed the comforting sight of your girlfriend. “Welcome home, [First].” Makima greeted you warmly as you walked into her embrace. “How was your day at work?”

“Peaceful,” you pecked her cheek before kissing her lips. “How about you? Busy day again?” You weren’t the only one to find new work after your resignation from the Devil Hunters. Makima took to working at a small but popular café in the neighborhood, preparing tea and crafting baked goods. She told you before baking was merely an activity she took up to alleviate her boredom, but it had since become something she enjoyed. It was beneficial to your being as well as you happily indulged in testing prospective new items on the menu for her.

“The choux crème has been a really popular item, more people are coming in for it.” Makima replied, satisfied. You blanched at the emphasis of the dessert name and the hounding sound of heavy paws heading your way. Your reaction, sadly, was too slow as Makima’s many dogs came to greet you like clockwork.

“Maki- nooo!” You sputtered as Makima laughed gleefully at the onslaught of wet tongues and wagging tails. “Tell them to get down!”

Makima’s expression was teasing, “but they’re so happy to see you come home, see?”

You dodged another lick from Macaron with expertise. “You’re not funny, I hope you know this,” yet the grin on your face said otherwise as Makima finally got her pups to relax. I guess I’ll be washing up sooner than expected.

“Someone looks like she’s in a good mood today,” you noted as you massaged lotion onto your freshly washed face. Bagheera and Tora welcomed you home, brushing against your legs now that their larger canid roommates finished their turn. Makima moved about the kitchen, making tea. “Did something good happen while you were out?”

“Your mother called today,” Makima answered with a small but satisfied smile. You couldn’t hold back a small grin of your own at those words. That action alone would probably give your girlfriend enough happiness to last several days. To earnestly earn the love of your family and feel as if she were part of it herself, it meant more to Makima than she could ever express. “She wanted to practice her Japanese before she came here.”

“My mom called and she just wanted to practice her Japanese with you?” You implored in disbelief once you settled on the couch, Makima sitting between your legs as she drank a hot cup of chai.

Your girlfriend’s smile was an uncanny replica of the Mona Lisa. “She asked why you haven’t proposed yet.”

“Now that sounds like my mother.”

Makima took a long sip of her tea before saying anything else. “Maybe we should be married in the human sense as well.” She set her cup down on the coffee table. “It’s the ultimate contract for humans.”

Your expression was curious. “You like the idea of marriage?”

“The idea of weddings was something I was always drawn to.” Her golden eyes had a distant look in them, her mind far beyond your comfortable living room with your many pets. Makima never went into the specifics of her childhood, but she told you enough to get the picture. She was simply one of the best kept secrets of the government; a young devil whisked off the streets of Tokyo to become a necessary evil. Concepts such as love, family and friendship were ones she learned from film and books. “The idea of binding yourself to another person for an eternity, it’s a concept I’m fond of. I wanted a big wedding.”

“I’m not opposed to a wedding,” you smiled. Marriage hadn’t been something you thought about prior to Makima. Your contract with her practically was one, all a wedding would make Makima’s integration into your family official. “I’m not sure if we have enough people in our lives to have the wedding size you’re thinking of, though.”

“I have plenty of people at the headquarters in Tokyo that would come if I asked.” Makima’s lips curved into a smile primal in nature while amusement danced in the rings of her irises. “Nanaka would for certain, she wouldn’t want to do anything to make me sad. If she’s still alive, we could extend her a personal invitation. What do you think?” At your dry look in response, your girlfriend chuckled lightly before pressing herself against your chest. “It’s a joke, I’m joking.” You decided to take her word for it. You always wondered to what extent it would be possible for Makima’s view of those who had fallen victim to her abilities as her equal. Perhaps it was one of those questions best left unanswered. “Weddings are one of those things that feel best when those in attendance truly care about the couple. I only want those people to come to our wedding.”

There was a lot of moral ambiguity that came with dating the Control Devil. Any devil really. You wondered if you were the only person in the world to do so, but you wanted to believe in the one you fell in love with.

Makima no longer relied on the fake relationships she manufactured with her abilities since your move to Takamatsu. Not for the interpersonal parodies she made to fill the loneliness inside her. She wasn’t perfect. Her first few weeks of generating business at her café were completely reliant on absolute control’s influence to bring customers in directly and through word of mouth. You were quite sure that power was how she obtained her job in the first place.

But you’re still trying your best. “There’ll be people like that,” you cradled Makima gently as you kissed her forehead. “My family loved you before even coming over to meet you properly. More of your regulars are just normal people you just happen to talk to daily. When the time comes, lots of people will be there just because they’re your friend.”

ii. 「純愛だよ」

There would be many people that would come to the wedding for Makima’s sake, that you were sure of. Kishibe of the Devil Hunters, however, would not be one of them. This you were certain of as you recalled the day you encountered him only a month after your resignation. If not for the way he intercepted you outside of your apartment building on your way home, definitely because of his cold but calculating stare.

When the man made no move to explain what he wanted, you decided to move your piece first. Nothing about the encounter felt coincidental as you were led to a place with as few people as possible. “So what do you want?” You had seen from the ground level that Makima had opened the window and you wondered if she knew of this sudden arrival. “I’ve been busy planning a move and I want to go home, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight.” You dangled your small bag of groceries, a few ingredients required for the dish you planned to cook.

“You can’t spare a moment to talk to an old work buddy?” In spite of his words, there was no nostalgia or yearning in his tone. Kishibe held out his box of cigarettes to which you declined before he lit a cigarette of his own. “It’s been a while after all, we haven’t talked in so long.”

“We barely talked in the first place,” you replied tersely. Besides introducing you and Makima to one another, you seldom saw the man held as one of the strongest in the Bureau. He was an enigma, a drunk enigma who still managed to do his job well. You were doubtful you’d be able to hold your own against him for long. “Hit me with that line after it’s been a few years.”

“How is Makima?” Your eyes narrowed at the sudden question. “It was quite the surprise to everyone that she resigned. I’m surprised the higher ups weren’t more insistent that she stay.”

“Cut the crap and tell me why you’re here,” you crossed your arms and you shared a knowing look. Whatever it was, you were on the same pageー both of you knew more than what you initially assumed. “What is it that you need to know so you can get out of our hair?”

“I suppose we can drop the pleasantries then,” Kishibe put out his cigarette as quickly as he lit it. “I’ve never been fond of Makima, but I could always tolerate her. Whatever inhumane deeds she committed, as long as I knew she was on humanity’s side, I could always turn the other cheek.” Tired black eyes that knew too much glanced at you piercingly. “I just find it strange that she decided to leave the Bureau to play house with a new toy.”

Your eyebrow twitched, but you held back your anger. “Because she’s the Control Devil, you mean,” you chuckled humorlessly. “Were you the one that brought her to officials? You worried that your dog got off its leash? Or is it because that dog turned on its masters?”

Infuriatingly but unsurprisingly, the man didn’t answer any of your questions. “I was worried that the Control Devil forced you into making a contract with her.”

“Makima can’t force me to do anything,” you scowled.

“Did she make you make a contract with her?” Kishibe queried.

“That’s none of your business.” After a strong silence between you both, sighed. “It’s part of our contract,” you answered begrudgingly. It would be better to cooperate lest he decide to take action due to your insubordination. “Makima can’t use her powers on me. She couldn’t force me to do anything before anyway. I’m not sure about the specifics, neither is she. We just know she hasn’t been able to order me successfully.”

“And what does she gain from a contract like that?”

“We stay together forever,” a soft voice cut through the conversation before you could answer. Makima stood behind you in an accompaniment of caws and frantic wingbeats as crows dispersed from where she stood. You sighed in relief at her appearance, at the very least Kishibe was the only devil hunter that had come to inspect the motivations of the Control Devil. “Hello, Kishibe,” a cold smile spread across her lips as she softly nuzzled the crow perched on her forearm. “had I known you were coming, I would have made tea.”

“You don’t need to keep up appearances on my account,” the older man insisted gruffly as Makima sent her corvid on its way. “You’ve been listening since we left the apartment. You left the window open.”

The redhead seemed to take a dark thrill in this moment, “yes I suppose we don’t have to keep up those things,” she agreed fluidly. “I wanted to keep a listen out for [First] so I could greet her at the door when she came home. Anyone would worry about their beloved when a strange man intercepts them.”

I do not need a fight breaking out. Makima versus Kishibe, you worried less about the physical outcome. No, you were fearful of what the long-term consequences of this fight would be. “Makima,” you stepped between the devil and the hunter. “we finished talking, let’s go home. He got the answers he was looking for.”

Makima’s smile shifted into one warmer for you, “yes, let’s go home.” You held her hand with the one not holding groceries and gave it a squeeze, Makima squeezed back.

You glanced at Kishibe over your shoulder, “you have the answers you’re looking for,” you repeated.

It’s-

iii. ごめんな

Your wet cough tore you away from your memories. It hurt, it hurt, everything hurt. It all hurt, yet you couldn’t react beyond a weak gasp as you laid on the ground, crushed under debris. Ah, this sucks.

You get off hours early from work, and a devil decides to attack. Perhaps it was muscle memory from your devil hunting days as you absently reached for a weapon that was no longer there. It had long since been confiscated after you resigned, civilians had no need for such weapons. Yet the horrifying realization that your sword was gone, was all the devil needed before gleefully thrusting its hand through your stomach. This all sucking was truly the understatement. Where were the devil hunters patrolling the area supposed to be, stopping to get lunch?

Today was supposed to be a good day, you lamented.

Your half-day at work aligned perfectly with Makima’s off-day. You were supposed to swing by and change into something comfortable, then you’d hit the town. You recalled the dress she said she would wear. It was gonna be that white sundress she got last year, she looks so good in that.

She was waiting for you.

That was what hurt you the most. Makima and the makeshift home you made for yourself. The two cats that slept anywhere that inconvenienced you and the seven dogs that welcomed you home rambunctiously everyday yet you were somehow still surprised when it happened. Makimaー

Your phone rang in the distance for the fifth time in the past six minutes.

I’m a terrible girlfriend, you berated yourself. You couldn’t crawl to it and your arms refused to move no matter how much you willed for your adrenaline to make a miracle happen. I’m sorry, you weeped quietly as your phone fell silent before the sharp trill of your ringtone started all over again. I’m so sorry.

You weren’t particularly religious, nor were you sure if there was a god that they would stop to listen to hear prayers for the sake of a devil. Still, you prayed. please let her be okay. I’m okay with dying as long as she’ll be okay. Don’t let this be what makes her lose hope in everything. I want her to be loved for the rest of her life.

Whether it was by your family that survived you, whether it was by the friends, whether it was by someone else who loved her beyond the controls of her abilities. Anything would be better than her being alone again.

Please.

The continuous trill of your cell phone accompanied you until your eyes closed, and your chest stopped heaving.

iv. 彦星と織姫の物語

At five years of age, you dreamed of a prince on a magnificent horse saving you from a life of despair.

The world was unimaginable without your parents.

And you were sure you were born for a special purpose, a belief amplified by the strong feeling something was missing in your life and you needed to find it.

At thirteen years of age, you understood how the world truly worked.

The world continued despite the loss of your parents.

There were no princes riding on magnificent horses and there wasn’t anybody who would save you from the despair-filled life you were living.

And no one was born with a special purpose in life, not even you.

One… two… three… four… You held yourself tightly, forehead pressed against your knees as you waited for the sound of rushing footsteps to fade. It was just your luck that you ran into cops that found it more than a little suspicious that a preteen was wandering around instead of at school. They were unconvinced when you told them you were homeschooled and a kick to the shin later, you were hiding in an alley. Just a little while longer, you whispered, hugging yourself tighter. There was no prince that was going to come and save you, you realized this the moment your parents died and you were left alone in the streets of Beijing to fend for yourself. You became your own prince.

That was why you stole from merchants, that was why you picked pockets of anyone gullible enough to let their guard down.

You stood up from your crouch when you were sure the police officers were gone. You’d earned enough cash that day and something for dinner to boot. It was time to go home before you got too cocky and landed yourself in trouble. You patted your pocket with the squished meat buns in them. That would be enough to get through today.

You just needed to save. You were unsure of the amount you needed to save, but once you had enough, you would be able to get out of this place. That belief reassured you more than anything, it certainly reassured you more than the dead magpie your right foot nearly touched. Ew gross! You nearly touched another in your attempt to avoid the first. The cats would be in heaven later when they found this spot you grimly thought.

You glanced to your right, wondering if this would be a decent alley to leave into the main street when you saw a girl your age sitting with her knees bunched to her chest. You couldn’t see her face from how she was hunched over, nor did you trust her. It didn’t look like she was with anyone else, though it crossed your mind that maybe she was a decoy so you could get jumped.

You glanced over your shoulder without turning, relieved no one was standing behind you. You’d seen it happen more than once, you weren’t going to be another victim. Promptly, you turned around, more than willing to pretend you never saw the girl in the first place and exit in the opposite direction when-

Growl.

No, you told yourself sharply as you paused midstep. Giving someone else your food would be a terrible idea. She can find something for herself.

That was what you told yourself; it was what you told yourself and you still begrudgingly turned around, stomping your feet all the while when there was no one to be mad at but yourself.

“Here,” you grumbled without looking at the girl, holding your misshapen haul over her. “take it before I change my mind.” When she made no move to take the buns from your hand, you dropped them in front of her. The wrapping would keep the dirt off of them. “You’re welcome,” you sighed as you finally took your leave. Your only consolation was that she wasn’t a decoy that would lead to your ass getting kicked. There goes dinner.

When you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve, instinctively you jerked away.

You glared at the girl, ready for a fight. “Hey get off of m-,” You. Your words halted as soon as you saw her wide-eyed stare and tears. There was nothing familiar about this girl, you had never seen her before in your life. There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission. Your mind had gone blank, unable to conjure a single thought and even if you could, you doubted you would be able to voice them. So you followed instinct as it screamed at you to hold this stranger in your arms, welcomed the way she threw her arms over your shoulders in return.

An indeterminable amount of time passed while you cried in the arms of a stranger before you stood up again.

As you wordlessly led her to your home, it vaguely crossed your mind how strange this was. It was strange that you held this girl’s hand while you crossed the street. It was strange that you led her into the abandoned apartment building you called home. It was even stranger that despite only meeting a few hours prior, you were laying with this girl on your tattered bed, holding each other like you were scared you’d disappear if you let go.

It was all strange, but something told you it would be even stranger had you ignored her in that alleyway. “By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?”

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

v.「行かないで！行かないで！行かないで！どこにもいけないで！離れないで！あたしのそばにずっといて！」支配の悪魔が叫んだ。魂が叫んだ。

You discovered Nayuta was a devil less than a month after you started living together. She did a terrible job hiding it. Considering how airheaded she could be, though, you doubted Nayuta was truly trying to keep it a secret. Still, the truth of her nature eluded you for a few weeks as you initially accepted that perhaps these things were simple coincidences.

Her eyes were unlike anyone else’s eyes you’d ever seen. (You wondered for a while if they were special contacts, but if they were, they were beyond dried and damaged considering she never took them out.)

Animals listened to her way too easily. (There was no longer any need to fight off the crows when they got too close to your meal. A simple “go away” from your companion, and they would fly off just as she commanded.)

There was the time you bore witness to something you wouldn’t have believed had you not seen it yourself. Nayuta walked up to an older woman, held out her hand and plainly demanded, “give me all your money.” Promptly, all the yuan in the woman’s wallet was placed in Nayuta’s hand.

(“That old lady just gave you all her money?” You gawked in disbelief, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “How?!”

“I told her to give it to me,” Nayuta told you plainly, like she was telling you the sky was blue. Then she told you she wanted soup dumplings and jianbing for lunch.)

As such, it was no wonder why you found yourself thinking that she was a devil. It never crossed your mind that perhaps she had another sort of trick up her sleeve. Devil was the first thing that came to your mind and the only answer you felt was right.

“Hey, Nayuta,” you asked after much contemplation, watching as she drew a dog on the dirty hardwood floor of your home. Your belly was full from eating roujiamo and candied hawthorns, purchased with money Nayuta got from a mean teenager. “are you a devil?”

Nayuta paused her ministrations, staring at her rough sketch before she nodded, “yeah.” Her revelation wasn’t a surprise in the slightest. Gold eyes stared into yours as you thought over your next question. Were you scared of her now? No, you answered your internal pondering quickly. Being scared of Nayuta felt like an inherent rejection of what made you ‘you’. You’d never be scared of her, there was nothing intimidating about a devil who wanted a large dog so she could ride atop it like it was a horse. Instead you asked, “what kind of devil are you?”

“The Control Devil,” she answered truthfully.

“Have you ever used your powers on me?”

It was like a dam suddenly broke as Nayuta’s expression suddenly changed from blasé to fearful. “I haven’t!” When did she even get in front of you? It felt like you had only blinked once before she was standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands tightly as she shook her head frantically. “I haven’t!” She repeated desperately and you almost took a step back in bewilderment. You hadn’t seen Nayuta cry since the day you first met but you could tell these tears were different.

Her tears from your first meeting were inexplicable. A visceral reaction to whatever emotion took over the both of you that day. These tears were based on fright and distress.

“Na-,” you tried consoling the girl, but panic had overtaken her completely.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me!” Nayuta begged hysterically, her grip on your hands somehow tighter. “Don’t leave me!”

“I believe you!” Your heart felt like it was beating a million kilometers a second, but you had to convey how you felt. Nayuta looked as if she was going to cry once more, scared but hopeful.“I believe you,” you repeated softly. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

vi. 誓いの言葉

Nayuta wasn’t much of a talker.

That wasn’t to say she was timid, nor was she diffident. It was more like she was an airhead who skipped to the beat of her own drum. She did as she pleased and she said what was on her mind as it came to her mind. That was how you often ended up spending hours of your day looking for her if she suddenly ran off to find something that piqued her interest or keen sense of smell.

This time thankfully, she’d only been drawn to the display TV in front of a store. That was leagues better than the time she’d wanted to see why two cats were fighting in an alley.

You shot the girl an incredulous look, hands on your hips. “I keep telling you not to let go of my hand when we walk, you always get lost,” you scolded, more concerned than annoyed. The last thing you wanted was for Nayuta to run into devil hunters while you were separated. It was your worst fear that she would be taken from you and killed. Despite your worries, however, it didn’t always prevent instances when something would catch Nayuta’s eye and she’d let go of your hand in favor of checking out.

“[First],” Nayuta pointed at the television, completely ignoring your worry. “[First], I want one of these.”

You pursed your lips in annoyance knowing Nayuta had moved well beyond the matter at hand. At the excited look in her ringed eyes, however, you felt your annoyance fading faster than you’d like. “You want what?” You looked at the TV, wondering what grabbed her attention so much. It was a wedding, you realized after a few seconds. The wedding was western style, the bride donning a beautiful white dress. “Do you want the dress?” There was absolutely no way you’d be able to finesse a wedding dress no matter how hard you tried.

“I want the wedding.” That made you look at her even more wide-eyed than before.

“We can’t afford something like that!” You held up your hand before she could make her ridiculous suggestion. “And they won’t let two kids get married anyway, we’d have to wait until…” you honestly weren’t sure, now that you thought about it. You shook your head and Nayuta’s brow furrowed with a disgruntled pout, “anyways, we can’t have a wedding like that, it costs too much money.” When Nayuta didn’t reply, you poked her cheek. “You okay?”

Nayuta’s following grunt was neither in agreement or disagreement. When she didn’t object to you holding her hand, you held back a snort of amusement as you led the way home. It became apparent later on, when Nayuta approached you with your off-white bed sheet, however, that she had not gotten over the topic of weddings.

“It’s my veil,” Nayuta said as much when you asked why she was wearing your sheet. “I want the wedding now.”

“If you don’t put the sheet back on the bed, it’s the only one we have!” Laughter slipped through your words at the ridiculous display. But she’s still really cute. A total dork, but cute. Your hands moved to adjust her ‘veil’ more evenly on her head. You wanted to marry Nayuta when you grew up; when you had your house and weren’t living off scraps. Then her veil wouldn’t be the dirty sheet you laid on and she could wear the princess-style gown that you saw in the movie, not the dirty clothes you wore everyday. That was a long day away, you knew. It was hard enough imagining that you’d ever be somewhere better than this. “Okay,” you said warmly. “let’s have a wedding.”

Nayuta beamed, holding her head high, before she noticed the sheet slipping. You couldn’t hold back another snicker at that, “we have to say the vows first,” you instructed. “It’s where we promise each other the things we’ll do for each other once we’re married.” Your mother was fond of movies where weddings were the center of the plot, but you couldn’t recall any of the vows expressed in them. “I promise…” you began, pondering what you would say. I promise that first, I’ll get you a big house. One that has lots of dogs, well, as long as they’re cats too. We’ll have food from all over the world because we’ll have some fancy butler make it for us, and when we feel like it, we’ll go to any amusement park we want. And I’ll protect you from any devil hunter we come across.”

“I promise that I’ll be with you forever,” Nayuta followed seamlessly in your exchanging of vows. “I won’t use my powers on you. I won’t let go of your hand when we go out, because you get upset when I get lost. And I promise I’ll protect you too.”

You grinned, content. “Now we have to kiss too.” It was a quick kiss, a simple peck on the lips before you rested your forehead on hers. “And I now pronounce us wife and wife.” The imaginary audience applauded, welcoming your union in open arms.

“The people in the movie were dancing too afterwards,” Nayuta chirped after a moment.

“That’s because we’re supposed to have our first dance as a married couple afterwards,” you replied. The sheet, unfortunately, could not keep up with your dancing even if it was a slow waltz to an unknown melody you made on the spot.

“I want a real wedding this time.”

I do too. “We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated joyously. “it’ll be in a fancy hall with lots of people.” Not that either of you knew enough people to have even a small number of guests at your wedding. But that could change by the time you are grownups.

vii. 旧友

The day the devil hunters came was a blur.

You weren’t sure what it was that led to their discovery of Nayuta. You could only guess in the future that it was because of the trail of people who complained that their money had been stolen and they couldn’t remember how. At the time, guessing wasn’t going to get you out of the situation you landed yourselves in.

They didn’t buy your usual excuses.

There wasn’t anywhere to run in the corner they expertly trapped you in as you ran away, believing you had been making progress in losing the one following you.

You held your arms out between, knowing full well you were a flimsy shield to someone trained to kill devils.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-” were the only words she managed to get out when she suddenly collapsed, revealing the scarred old man behind her. You learned later he called himself Kishibe.

You weren’t sure if you should have felt relieved when you saw the old man, suited up as any other devil hunter would be. You didn’t like him, that much you had decided in your silent stare down.

He released a raspy sigh, humming thoughtfully as he crushed the unconscious woman’s phone. “I came here expecting to only find one of you,” the man scratched the side of his head sluggishly. He eyed you carefully with a sense of recognition you couldn’t quite place before his eyes drifted to Nayuta beside you. “The Control Devil really is a selfish one.”

viii. マキマとナユタ

“You’re starting to look like me, Himeno.” It had been years since he’d last seen the woman and she seemed tired beyond her years. If Life played favorites, it was more than apparent Himeno was not one of that group. Aki died, succumbing to his final two years to live. The Chainsaw kid took off before then in the aftermath of the brief but chaotic attack of the Bomb Devil. Perhaps she’d been driven mad, perhaps she craved being the country mouse of Aesop’s fable. It was all the woman could do to run off with sister and the Blood Fiend, nestled in the quiet coastal town of Shonai in Yamagata Prefecture.

“It’s rude to point out a lady’s age, sir.” Himeno accepted the cigarette regardless. A large portion of her bangs were white and gray, her eye showing signs of crow’s feet. “What are you doing in little ole Shonai?” Smoke wafted from her mouth with a soft exhale.

“I started my own delivery service,” Kishibe gestured his cigarette to his car. “and you’re my first and only customer.”

Himeno’s smile was amused, but her one visible eye was anything but. “Funny, I don’t recall me or my sister ordering anything.”

“Consider this your lucky day then, it’s the delivery of a lifetime.” Kishibe didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a two-for-one deal.”

“I’ve had enough once-in-a-lifetime deals.” Himeno crushed her cigarette on the bottom of her foot before flicking it to the wayside. With more than a hint of finality, she waved and walked in the opposite direction of his vehicle. “Whatever it is, you should keep it to-”

“It’s the new Control Devil.” Those words made Himeno stop in her tracks. “They discovered her in China, but I managed to nick her.” Just in time to thwart disaster. Makima had been a ticking time bomb that had been staved off successfully when ー appeared in her life. That timer began once again when ー was killed in an attack by the Rat Devil. If the Chinese government had disposed of your current incarnation in front of the new Control Devil, Kishibe knew that there would have been no preventing the hell that would be unleashed upon the world.

Still, it would be best for the two of you to be protected til you could properly fend for yourselves.

Himeno’s shoulder shook for a few moments, it wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts going through her head. I can keep on walking, she possibly thought. I can pretend I didn’t hear anything. Yet human nature got the better of her, Himeno sighing shakily, “why’d you bring her to me?”

“I’m not fit to raise children and out of all my old contacts, you’re the one I trust the most to do a good job handling her.” Kishibe answered truthfully. Not even Quanxi could be relied on for such a task. As much as he trusted his unrequited love, he knew the woman would have less of an interest in raising children than she did his old advances.

“What’s the second part of the deal?”

“Take a look in the car.”

Warily, the former devil hunter turned around, taking slow steps towards the car and leaned close to the window.

Himeno said nothing for a while as Kishibe watched her back, knowing that she was likely experiencing a strong wave of emotion. Everything likely clicked the moment she saw you. The same skin tone, the same hair texture, everything exactly the same as she remembered. “ー always knew about Makima, didn’t she.” Despite her phrasing, it was not a question. It was a soft, emotional observation.

“This new one shouldn’t have any of Makima’s old memories, but it seems this is one attachment she can’t shake.” Perhaps this was part of their contract. Leave it to Makima to make the implausible possible. The life of a devil may have been cyclical in nature, but reincarnation among humans was unproven. Yet here you were in all your similarities to ー. Kishibe didn’t ponder what this meant for humanity. If this meant his old buddies were somewhere walking around earth as new beings. Perhaps you were simply an exception, a product of the contract ー made with Makima. Makima did say you’d stay together forever.

Kishibe doubted he would ever receive an answer. All he was certain was that if you were the one thing keeping the Control Devil from wreaking havoc on the world, you were a necessary piece of the puzzle.

“This one isn’t ー either, she’s [First]. She doesn’t have any memories from before.” Kishibe warned, lightly tapping Himeno’s shoulder. He didn’t need the woman to get any false hopes. ー was dead, there was no doubt about it. The age separating Himeno and yourself was succinct proof. You weren’t the friend she lost more than a decade prior. “If you really can’t handle it, I’ll figure things out.”

Himeno’s one blue eye shone with more fire he’d seen since the last time he’d seen her. “I’m glad you feel that way,” the man tipped his proverbial hat to her. “I’ll be back when they’re old enough for defense training.”

“Hey, Gramps, where are we?” You demanded once you had woken up, rubbing your eyes tiredly. He might have saved your life, but he had kept you in the dark long enough.

Nayuta ungraciously yawned,“I have to pee.”

The wizened man took a hard look at the pack of cigarettes in his hand before shoving it in his pocket, sighing heavily. “We’re in Shonai over in Japan.” At last, he introduced the woman next to him. “This is Himeno, she’ll be taking care of you both from now on.”

You shared a look with Nayuta, wondering if this place would really be the best for you. It beats living where we were though, you were forced to admit. A part of you would miss the room you and Nayuta called home for the longest time, where you had your wedding and where you drew on the floor when you got bored. But you planned to leave that building someday, hoping you’d be leading a better life by then. ‘Someday’ simply came faster than you expected.

Thanks, old man, you doubted you would see much of him again though as you saw his car become smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Do either of you like cartoons?” Himeno asked when it was just the three of you. “What do you like watching?” When neither of you could come up with a response, Himeno cheerily made the decision for you. “We have the complete Ashita no Nadja set at home, we can watch that when we get there. But since we’re celebrating your arrival, you have to pick dinner.”

Nayuta wasted no time in answering that question, “I want pancakes.”

You rolled your eyes, bemused. “What if I want burgers though?”

Nayuta looked at you carefully, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility. “We want burgers and pancakes,” she told Himeno a second later.

“Burgers and pancakes,” Himeno said more to herself than anyone else. “Alright, I can work with that.”

translation notes:

i. happy end ii. it’s pure love iii. sorry iv. the story of hikoboshi and orihime v. “don’t go, don’t go, don’t go! don’t go anywhere! don’t go away! stay with me forever!” the control devil shouted. her soul shouted. vi. word of oath vii. old friend viii. makima and nayuta

#look she's writing #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #makima x reader #nayuta

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petitelepus · 11 months

Note

Unsure if this kind of crossover is allowed, but I had an idea. Merformer reader somehow (through various shenanigans) ends up with the regular DJD, confused because they look just like the merformer DJD??? But they’re regular giant robots??? Meanwhile the DJD don’t even know what the reader is

You were so confused. Where were you and how you ended in here? What were these creatures that looked like your pod members, but with two legs?

Meanwhile, while you are gawking at the members of the Decepticon Justice Division, they are staring at you with their crimson optics wide open in shock.

"What the frag that is and where the Pit did it come from?" Helex thoughts out loud, but his teammates knew just as little as he knew.

"The question is, what are we going to do with it?" Tesaurus asked.

"Ah, it looks like a water mammal." Kaon pointed out your long tail, fins, and gills, "It might need a generous source of water."

Vos said something and Nickel nodded, "Vos is right. What do you think should we do with it Tarn?"

The leader of the feared DJD looked at you long and hard. It made you feel uncomfortable so you started yelping and crying out, trying to call your own pod members and Tarn's optics widened.

Primus, you were maybe organic but the sounds you made were pure and so beautiful to his audials.

He surprised his teammates as he took a step towards you and kneeled before you, offering his hand to you as if he was the Prince of your dreams.

"I don't know if you can understand me, but if you let me, I will ensure you won't miss anything in life." He grinned behind his mask, "Provided that you start singing to me?"

You didn't understand what he thought so you tilted your head in confusion. Tarn understood that you didn't really get what he was saying so he started to hum with that gorgeous voice of his and you absolutely beamed in joy as you recognized his voice and you started to sing alongside him.

As you sang, you took the hand he offered and Tarn nodded as he gently picked you up in bridal style.

"Amazing!" Tesaurus gasped and the rest of the DJD nodded as they admired their leader who barely had to work to gain your trust.

"Kaon and Nickel, take Helex and Tesaurus and go prepare a tank big enough for this creature with water," Tarn ordered and his men did as told, leaving you alone with the masked Con.

You looked at the familiar mask curiously and gently touched the material. Feeling that it was metal and not wood, you peeped when your webbed hand touched the cold metal.

"Curious little thing, aren't you?" Tarn chuckled, and despite being in a whole new place, you didn't feel that afraid when you heard his voice.

#merformers #transformers mtmte #transformers #mtmte #djd #decepticon justice division #tarn #kaon #nickel #tesaurus #helex #reader #Anon #ENJOY!

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72ww · 1 year

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HEYY cha cha slides into your ask box what are ur thoughts on sashamilla first meeting and what do u think it was like?? are u a li po doc truther or do u think it was something else!!

Thanks for sending me this great question!

I don't know about you, but I have a hard time committing to one idea when it comes to branching off from what is strictly canon. Even then, I am big on character exploration in all forms. Pre-canon, canon, whatever. It is the biggest draw to the game, for me, these characters are lovingly written and set such a fantastic groundwork which a person can really run with if they want to. So, personally, I do not exactly stick with one story… sorry if it's confusing, but I don't commit myself to imagining it happened just one way. There are many ways to take two characters and consider how many ways they could interact. Why limit ourselves? It is a great exercise in understanding others. Below the cut is a lot of writing on trauma, pain, and grief, just a warning.

Sasha wasn’t intended to be her therapist at first. He was called in by his supervisor to see if Milla could be rehabilitated at all. She had promise as a powerful Psychonaut, but her mind was wracked with grief. She had been hospitalized due to her struggles with mental illness more than once, compounding her inability to recover. Milla possessed a strong desire to help others but was unable to help herself through her own insurmountable grief. Sasha, being relatively low in the ranks of his division himself, saw it as just another routine recruiting assignment. He approached it with scientific curiosity and not much else.

Milla's mental landscape before Sasha becomes her therapist: it's constructed from the trauma she went through. It's all she can think about, it is her entire identity. It is all-consuming because she can't cope with it. Every day the walls are closing in more and more, driving her further inward into a mental prison. She can't ask for help, she doesn't feel as though she deserves it, she is afraid of it. She may punish herself due to a self-prescribed guilt. Likely socially withdrawn from all relationships, apathetic, joyless. Any joy may remind her of her emotional pain. The two could be inseparable for her, in fact. In acute grief it is not uncommon for one to paradoxically associate happiness with trauma.

Visually, everything that used to bring her joy is present, though corrupted by emotional pain. Quilts, piano keys, crocheted afghans, a record player, melting vinyl, bedtime storybooks, children's paintings. All of it deformed hideously; burning, or burnt. Her grief has twisted her perception of the past. She cannot enjoy her memories as they once were. They have been overwritten by Milla's tremendous suffering.

As any good therapist, Sasha’s mission is to give Milla the tools to reframe the event that is plaguing her mind. Since she is unable to express any control over destructive thinking patterns such as intrusive thoughts, it is pretty easy to see why Sasha would be the one called in to help her. Maybe at this point in his training/career, he has successfully completed this process in himself and recreated such success in other struggling individuals. When he arrives, Milla is despondent. Sasha feels a strong connection with her immediately through a common thread of distress: acute, unresolved grief.

Well, I am going to go on a little tangent here, but I promise it is somehow relevant. Sasha is a very interesting character because he exists in a delicate and realistic balance of qualities. He is intensely curious. He has a strong sense of morality, but might not always choose to follow it. The two go hand in hand. Sasha must determine constantly whether or not a certain action is worth its moral implications. That is a subjective art, to him. Someone who values scientific progress for the betterment of society might not pay so much attention to the sacrifices he feels he must make to achieve his goals. That is to say, to some extent he believes in justification. A lack of direct (or adequately responsible) oversight can further develop such a mindset. As well, a person can justify much to himself if his actions are endorsed and/or were prior committed by a role model. All this to say I believe Sasha has gone through a lot of learning in his life to get to where we see him in the games. He still struggles with this quandary, obviously, but he is certainly not a cold, heartless scientist. His love for others is likely just as intense as Milla’s, though maybe in a bit more of an abstract way. He understands his role and responsibilities as a Psychonaut. He likes to think he understands when he can or shouldn’t overstep those boundaries. Most of the time, anymore, Sasha is relatively disciplined in his practice through sheer experience. No, I don’t think this was always the case.

Personally, I think he would at first approach the case of Milla with his usual ravenous curiosity. He struggles to stay in the present with her. He gets ahead of himself. He wants her to succeed almost too much, too quickly, not solely for her benefit. I can see Milla daring to put him in his place over this, too. His demeanor doesn’t put her on edge. She may even think to herself that his aloof appearance is comical (perhaps endearing…?). She can tell this man tries to distance himself from the world. It seems to her that he has a need to emotionally separate himself from everyone around him not from a sense of superiority; rather, it is as if he is trying to escape distress. Thus, Milla understands nearly all the time he is successful in enforcing strict interpersonal distances. I genuinely think Milla is the first one to ever get around his defenses, if only to drive him up the wall, because she thinks he is hilarious, and because she gets sick of seeing him so closed off. It’s the only thing she enjoys doing for a time. Rather than feeling humiliated by this, Sasha is humbled, if not outright impressed with Milla. It helps to push their relationship in a positive direction.

It’s a turning point for both of them. Sasha was used to talent alone being his main advantage on missions to help others. He hadn’t fulled grasped what it meant to be a therapist, that it is a give-and-take relationship for both parties. Through Milla’s help he recognizes this was a major cause of his past failures. On the other hand, Milla isn’t miraculously cured. Sasha helps her disable the trauma response and pave the road to her recovery. It’s still there, it just isn’t dominating her mental landscape anymore. Sasha marks her down for having serious potential both in recovery and as an agent.

I have read some great & engaging writing where they start out as colleagues assigned to the same mission. Those were really enjoyable, too, and I think those still adequately explore this interesting antagonistic dynamic they may have had upon first introduction. A lot of people look at these two through their surface level personality traits and are shocked to see them get along so well. I don’t think they are opposites at all, though! Sasha & Milla are totally on the same wavelength. I tend to imagine that neither of them realize their similarities at first, too. Then someday something just clicks and their brains practically fuse together for life. There is.. definitely something to be said about dating your therapist, though, LOL. I can’t say I endorse that. I think it wouldn’t be a problem because they later become partnered agents. The Psychonauts probably have a policy against colleagues fraternizing, but whatever. As if anyone would (could) separate Sasha & Milla.

Ohh and a postscript note. In this little space of thinking I like to imagine that Sasha gives up smoking through Milla’s treatment. She can’t stand the smell of it at first. He has to go back to his hotel and take three showers and rent clothes before he can even do intake with her. It takes ages for Milla to associate the stench of cigarettes with Sasha alone. Eventually, I’m sure Milla does exposure therapy of some sort so she doesn’t feel as distressed around fires/smoke she can’t avoid. This totally is without ulterior motives on Sasha’s part, phobia control is an important part of Psychonaut agent training... He does not miss smoking at all...

Here's a sketch for the concept I didn't do much with because drawing Milla in distress wasn't fun at all.

#winkpsyncing #psychonauts #my art #sashamilla #sasha nein #milla vodello

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

I hate to rain on today’s much needed joy parade, but do you think the USA is headed for civil war in the near future? It’s increasingly feeling like 2024 is going to be a make or break year and with division at an all time high it feels like there’s going to be complete chaos in the streets even if we avoid crisis at the polls. Like, even though I’m in a “safe state” (for now) I’m seriously considering strategies of fleeing the country, just in case. Don’t know what I’m asking for, help? Reassurance maybe? Advice?

I think my answer to that is... yes but also no, and no but also yes, and yes but also no. Which I realize is not entirely helpful and not as clear as anyone would like, but let me try to explain:

The far-right has always been militant, violent, and prone to apocalyptic and fascist rhetoric. This isn't a new thing in American history, and it's come to the fore at moments of particular stress and division. Trump's presidency obviously gave much-unwanted oxygen to them, right when people were starting to claim that Obama's election meant that America was in a "post-racial era" (LOL), but they themselves are not new. We had the Civil War itself, we had the lynchings and racial terror and Jim Crow/Ku Klux Klan era, we had the Bund (the American Nazis) holding huge public gatherings in the run-up to WWII and enjoying substantial domestic support, etc etc etc. This is all scary and unsettling, and most of us don't have a personal memory of dealing with it before, because we're not old enough. But that doesn't mean it hasn't happened before, and that we haven't survived it.

Let's take yesterday, for instance. Trump spent all week promising fire and death and vengeance and playing literal videos of January 6th at his campaign rally in Waco, Texas (famed as the site of the Waco Siege of 1994; look it up). He insisted his supporters would rain vengeance on anyone who dared to arrest him and otherwise threatened mass-scale disturbances and the other tools of public violence that fascists use to enforce their will. And what happened? It's 12+ hours since the first indictment went through (30 counts of business/document fraud, which is not a piddling charge) and we've had bupkis. We've had a lot of Republican politicians tweeting their performative hypocritical outrage, yes, but we haven't suddenly had the country explode in fire and flame either. I'm sure there have been localized protests, but I haven't heard about major anything. And one set of indictments has gone through, others will be empowered to follow. In a way, I think it's a good thing that non-political crimes went first? Yes, the Republicans are screaming about a political witch hunt because that's literally the only thing they can do, but starting by nabbing Trump for relatively low-level (but still extensive) business fraud and then moving onto the treason sets a pattern and makes it easier to comprehend.

The thing is: Nazis, at heart, are cowards. They like to paint themselves as bold and valiant soldiers fighting for the Right Way of Life, but it's all fantasy, delusion, and cosplay. They were empowered to do January 6th because Trump was literally the sitting president and told them to do it, but that's no longer the case, and they're shit scared of facing anyone who might enforce real consequences on them. (Once again, if you take nothing else from following me: Nazis are punk-ass fucking pissant cowards who think they're tough and are in fact a bunch of asshole morons, the end.) The mantra of "Make Racists Afraid Again" is working, to an extent. Yes, we have hellholes like Missouri, Florida, Texas, and Tennessee where the state GOP is working as hard as they can to enforce the worst and most regressive laws imaginable, but that's still not universal. As I also say a lot, the reason Republicans attack, discredit, and outlaw voting so much is because they can never win a fair election on the merits. Their ideas suck, and on some level they know that. They just care about being cruel, fascist, and stupid, and while that's certainly a troubling and significant minority in America, it's not as big as anyone thinks.

Almost 60% of Americans think both that "woke" is a good thing and the cases against Trump should permanently disqualify him from holding any office again. Yet again: the GOP is in the minority, and that's why they use so many dirty tricks to establish and enforce their power. Also, I can guarantee you that not one of the keyboard warriors fulminating about how The Democrat Party Is Being So Mean To President Trump is ever going to actually go out and start an actual civil war. They have established interests, money, benefits from the system, and they don't want to overturn that. They want the masses angry and stupid, yes, but they want them angry and stupid in support of keeping discriminatory structures and systems in place. That can't work if there are no systems at all. Yes, we will still have white supremacists and fascists committing ongoing individual acts of violence, i.e. school shootings, and it's hard to argue that this doesn't constitute a civil war of some sort, or at least ongoing stochastic terrorism. But while you have people like Marge Two Names Greene out there blabbing about a National Divorce, I can guarantee you that if it ever came to actually DOING it, Marge and Brave Brave Sir Kevin would be nowhere to be found. Again: they want to derive power and money from the operation of an unfair system, not the end of that system. It sucks, but still.

Honestly, I want the Dominion lawsuit to keep going on, and dragging all of Fox News' hypocrisy, deception, and disinformation into the public eye. Fox is the biggest cancer on this country, as is the case with Rupert Murdoch's global disinformation empire overall (when, WHEN will HE fucking die, if we're talking death lottery wishlists?) But the lawsuit and its subsequent publicity has had an effect: a small but significant number of Fox viewers (26%) realized the network was lying to them, and 13% said that they no longer believed the 2020 election was stolen after reading about the Fox efforts to lie about it and then cover up their lies. So while the right-wing media bubble is huge and terrible, it's also not impenetrable, and taking Fox down/substantially discrediting it would have a major effect on the pay-for-play misinformation media sphere.

This is getting long, so let me try to sum up: the far-right advocating separatist fantasies of violence/war/fascist domination is not new, and has been a thing in American history for as long as there has been America. But at least in the current moment, it is not the majority, it is not widely popular, it will never be embraced by ordinary mainstream Americans and not just the insane cultists, its so-called devoted soldiers yell on Twitter and cable news and will never once be spotted actually fighting for it, and it's the cynical last gasp of a hate movement that is seeing its institutional and generational hold on America (and the world) finally on the brink of permanently shifting. So of course it's trying to make itself look as big and scary as possible, like any wounded animal, but it's on the back foot, and we have a chance to really kill it. Not permanently or forever, since that's the nature of human history, but at least for now and buy us some more time, and despite everything, I remain cautiously optimistic about our likelihood of doing so. I know it's scary, I know it's awful, I know it feels overwhelming, but it is still not winning, and it won't. As long as we do our part.

Hugs. Hang in there.

#anonymous #ask #history #american history #politics for ts

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pjharvey · 23 days

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ok but why r they also lowkey annoying and u lowkey hate them... i need answers to b able to vote fairly

1) in high school they were best friends with a gay guy whose family was literally one of the top three richest in the state bc they started one of utah’s biggest mlms and the two of them are still besties but the gay guy lives in new york now which helps. he specifically was really weird to me in high school, he’d dm me about wanting to be friends solely bc we were two of the only out gay people (and was clear this was the reason), only to ignore me afterwards for weeks. so honestly i mostly hate them bc they were best friends with one of the most annoying people i’ve met in my whole life, which maybe isn’t entirely fair. but their other friends were also the worst people in our grade.

2) they at one point had tens of thousands of tiktok followers just for making those boring dance videos and being really hot. they also have a ton of instagram followers probably because of that. again probably petty.

3) they used to go up to me in school with one of their friends and make comments like “you were in my dream last night but i can’t remember what it was about” and then giggle and they’d both walk away before i could say anything. or be like “i adore you audrey” and i would be like but we literally never talk?? every interaction we ever had was basically this and it was even never an interaction because i never actually got to say anything and they would always be with someone else and they’d just giggle and walk away.

4) this was actually the worst offender for me as a high schooler and i tried to remind myself of it every time i would be crying over them or something but they HATED joy division. they liked other similar music but they thought joy division sucked and had no talent

#i’m actually so sorry i tried to be brief.

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tomcat-reusables · 9 months

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Why Asteroid City is Better Than the Reviews, IMDb Isn’t Always Right, and You’re a Shitty Painting - an essay of sorts

Asteroid City (2023), despite what critics would have you believe given it’s rated just a sliver above the 2012 adaptation of Dr Seuss's “The Lorax '', was (to me) genuinely a fantastic movie. For its entire run I sat there in the theatre, thinking “why can’t people appreciate this film!”. I’m sick of the reviews blatantly coming from the place of the critics analysing it from the lens of a science fiction story when in reality, it’s more-so an abstract exploration of the delicate relationship between art, artist, portrayal and probably not aliens.

ASTEROID CITY IS NOT A SCI FI MOVIE AND I'M GOING TO BOMB THE IMDB HEADQUARTERS IF I SEE ONE MORE BIG SHOT MOVIE CRITIC INSISTING THAT IT IS (for all intents and purposes this is a joke, to the fbi agent looking through my webcam I’m a pretentious teenager year old without the technical knowledge to make any kind of explosive device)

Or maybe it isn’t supposed to be understood at all, maybe that movie was simply an excuse to build a fake town in the desert and some puppets. And in a way that’s just as beautiful, postmodernism is more than worthy of critique, but when it looks pretty and makes us feel anything at all, it’s safe to say it’s at least partially doing it’s job

Asteroid city however, is merely an example I used to express my burning personal hatred for movie critics. I actively avoid reading the reviews for anything that brings me joy, because I’m aware at this point that the statements I read are going to contain some of the most insane, infuriating possible opinions anyone could have of a piece of media, and I am beginning to suspect more and more that critics, not just of movies but of genuinely anything in existence that can possibly be critiqued, aren’t expressing their legitimate opinions but rather spewing whatever inflammatory nonsense they believe will cause some kind of controversy or outrage, because outrage sells. If one fact has been proven over the course of human civilization, it’s that outrage gets more clicks, more views, more exposure.

Obviously anyone in their right or wrong mind understands that someone else’s opinion doesn’t at all determine the objective quality of a given ‘thing’, but it can often be hard to NOT give what they have to say a chance. I genuinely resent possessing the empathy to consider the thoughts of others despite how objectively incorrect they seem. But they’re people too! They could have a point! I say to myself as they tear apart something that is personally very meaningful to me. Curse in disguise I guess. But in the end, what is objective quality? if something at its core is bad, but you receive personal enjoyment from it, or it’s even sentimental to you or has made a positive change in your life, does it quality or lack of matter? Does it really matter what some 45 year old man sipping on a glass of champagne as he adjusts his spectacles to spew pretentious nonsense into the IMDb critic reviews, might think about a movie that got you through a rough time, or an album you grew up listening to? Are we allowed to enjoy ‘bad’ art? And most divisive of all, is there such a thing as bad art?

I once read an article about a museum of bad art, submissions would often be rejected for being too good. And yes, the examples of art displayed within this unique exhibition were unnerving, technically poor, but meaningless? I’m not at all one to determine that. Even absolutely meaningless, humorous, random art has a meaning, and that meaning is derived from the fact that no matter how positively offensive to the eyes or ears may be, it was still created. Think about everything that’s ever come into existence within the fabric of our reality, no, think about everything that hasn’t. It’s impossible for us to imagine the magnitude of the things that are possible but simply haven’t been thought of, conceived. Maybe it’s a hit to your self esteem to think your parents could have given birth to the next DaVinci, the next Stephen Hawking, the second coming of Christ! But instead gave birth to you. Do you consider yourself a work of bad art? Does your life have meaning?

All this to simply explain that the interpretations of a few writers put on a pedestal shouldn’t have any place to decide our stance on a piece of media. Yes these reviews can certainly influence the way we feel, or articulate the points we have, but if or when you feel genuinely hurt by the fact that someone disagrees with, misunderstands or dislikes something that’s personally meaningful and enjoyable to you, their opinion doesn’t always matter regardless of the status their name may have achieved (this is of course, excluding when the media in question is blatantly problematic, which poses another debate in itself. Is it still homophobic if I like it? Find out next time on I’m Getting Overly Passionate About Seeing Some Reviews I Disagree With)

In conclusion, it’s ok to enjoy what you enjoy, regardless of the subjective or even objective quality of it, we as the consumers are the ones to truly decide how “good” or “bad” something is. That’s the core concept behind why critics exist, to guide those who don’t wish to form an opinion for themselves, to do the job for us, but when we’ve done said job for ourselves it’s never wrong to disagree with someone over something that is personally meaningful to you. It’s almost guaranteed someone will disagree with the points made in this essay of sorts, but that doesn’t make either of us right or wrong. In the end, these previous 962 words have truly amounted to one encompassing phrase: “you are entitled to your opinion”

#asteroid city #wes anderson #essay #bad art is good actually #fun fact I’m an amateur writer or something #Don’t take this too seriously I wrote half of it in class

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theaceofflamesposts · 3 months

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Thatch - 49, 59, 63

49. "C'mon, I'll show you how to dance." 59. "I like the way your hand fits in mine." 63. "Wait, don't pull away... Not yet."

For: Sefona

You’ve never seen men that dance the way they do on the Moby Dick before. It’s not just movement to noise – some of it is, sure, just arms around shoulders and swaying while they sing (often off-key at this point because they’re a bit drunk) – but proper dancing. Izou is at the centre of it, moving perfectly with the beat, sometimes on his own but occasionally with others too. It’s kind of fun to watch how flushed Ace gets when Izou does something like dipping him. Haruta is light on his feet, and some of the men who were Spade pirates under Ace prior to joining Whitebeard are also great dancers. Cornelia and Deuce in particular, but for a big guy Skull is also pretty good at keeping rhythm.

Marco usually waits patiently to join in until he sees a place to dance with both Ace and Izou at once, and often Thatch joins in like the four of them just know how to move in sync with one another. You wonder briefly if the dancing helps with being able to fight together. Mostly you just like the joy they all seem to show with one another. You’re not sure where Thatch is yet, but a presence just behind you to your left solves the internal query a moment later.

“You never join in.” He says, studying you quietly. His hair is a little messier than usual and it makes you want to run your fingers through it until it’s loose and hanging free. Maybe later.

“I – I don’t really know how to dance.” You confess, cheeks getting warm. Thatch just smiles at you though.

“Come on. I’ll show you how to dance.” He offers you a hand, and although you glance nervously at your dancing crew mates, you slide your hand into his. Thatch beams as he leads you closer to all the others, tugging you in closer to him until you rest a hand on his chest. His free hand drops to your waist before he leans in.

“Don’t worry about anyone else, just follow my lead okay?” Thatch murmurs soothingly, and you nod, curling your fingers around the hand you hold a little more tightly. Luckily the song playing at the moment is a little slower, so you don’t trip over your own feet as you try to relax and just go with the flow. Luckily the cook is patient, and you can feel him pressing you a little closer as you continue.

It only takes a couple of songs before he has you dancing just as fast as anyone else there, laughing softly sometimes as he adds a dramatic flourish. While sometimes another crew mate will spin you away for a jaunt, you always end up back in Thatch’s arms, hand linked firmly with his.

By the time the music begins to wind down, you’re exhausted, yawning widely and about ready to head to bed. You look up at Thatch and you’re about to say goodnight when what almost looks like panic flashes across his face.

“Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” He says, and you don’t, instead you almost melt against him. You lean in and rest your head against his shoulder, afraid something is wrong and wanting to wordlessly comfort him. Thatch makes a soft sound and just holds you, your linked hands down by your side. He’s well aware of a gaggle of division commanders watching expectantly and knows chatter will have spread all across the ship by morning. But you don’t seem to be aware, or at the least, if you are you don’t seem to care so Thatch tries to ignore the feeling as well.

“Are you okay?” You ask after a little while, pulling back just enough that you can look up at him. Your gaze makes Thatch’s breath catch in his throat, and his cheeks go slightly pink. He lifts your hand to his mouth and places a light kiss on it.

“I’m fine.” He promises. “I just – I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

#one piece fanfiction #x reader #thatch one piece #reader insert #theaceofflamesposts fluffnstuff #theaceofflamesposts event 2024

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themuse-if · 13 days

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Another 20 (or so) Questions with Jo Nielsen

Interviewer: Welcome to another installment of our character interviews, where we dive deep into the lives and minds of our favorite cast members of The Muse. Today, we have Jo Nielsen with us, the drummer of The Rebel Rejects. Jo, thank you for joining us. Could you start by telling us what made you want to pursue music?

Jo: Hey, thanks for having me. Music has always been my refuge, especially after the tumultuous experiences of my upbringing. The drums, in particular, spoke to me – they're like my voice, expressing all the emotions I couldn't put into words.

Interviewer: How would you describe your music?

Jo: My drumming style is raw and energetic, I really feed off of Ro and De's energy. I tend to really let loose and leave it all on the kit. We have a blend of punk and post-punk, with slight influences from other genres thanks to De's eclectic taste.

Interviewer: How do you want to be seen by others?

Jo: I want to be seen as someone who's genuine and empathetic, who's been through struggles but still finds joy in life's simple pleasures.

Interviewer: How do you want your art to be seen by others?

Jo: I want my drumming to resonate with people, to be a source of comfort and empowerment. I want it to inspire others to find their own voice, just like music did for me.

Interviewer: What is your latest obsession?

Jo: I've been obsessed with hiking! I really love being outdoors, so I've been trying to hit all my favorite trails at home this summer before the move to university.

Interviewer: Describe your best friend(s).

Jo: De and Ro are literally the most amazing people I’ve ever met. When I first transitioned into normal life I wasn’t really sure what types of relationships I would form, but they showed up in my life and made me feel so seen and secure. They show me so many types of beauty in everything and truly keep me grounded when I’m feeling…lost. I know it’s cheesy but I would definitely say we’re soulmates.

Interviewer: Wow it sounds like you found true kindred spirits in De and Ro, that’s lovely. Could you describe your ideal partner?

Jo: Someone who's understanding and patient, who accepts me for who I am and supports my passions. Someone who's willing to go on adventures and explore the world with me. Also they have to get along with my friends, it’s an automatic deal breaker if they don’t.

Interviewer: What was your first kiss like?

Jo: I don’t really like to talk about it…it was a bit traumatic… I will tell you about what I like to think of as my first kiss. It was actually with Ro. *chuckles* I know, I know what you’re thinking, but it was actually really sweet. I had just finished opening up to them about my past and they asked me if I wanted a redo. It was nice…soft and gentle. Ro can actually be really sweet.

Interviewer: Aw that's so cute! Ad I'm sorry but I have to ask, have you kissed since?

Jo: *starts to blush furiously* I uh…maybe once or twice…I mean did Ro say anything?

Interviewer: *stifles a laugh* Mmm I think I’ll let you ask them yourself. Moving on, have you ever been in love?

Jo: Not yet, but I believe in love and all its complexities. I think when it happens, it'll be a beautiful and transformative experience.

Interviewer: When was your last relationship, and why did it end?

Jo: I haven't been in a serious relationship yet. Honestly I had never even had real friends before Jo and De. I've been so focused on my music and my friends that I hadn’t really thought about dating.

Interviewer: What’s your ideal Friday night?

Jo: I love just hanging out with the band, whether it’s practice, a gig, or just staying in. It’s alway super fun when we’re together.

Interviewer: What’s the last song you listened to?

Jo: "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division. It's a classic that always hits me right in the feels.

Interviewer: How do you behave in a relationship?

Jo: I think I'd be a supportive partner, someone who's always there for their significant other no matter what. I believe in mutual respect and understanding in a relationship. I like to do little things for the people I love to show them I care.

Interviewer: Do you approach those you’re interested in or let them come to you?

Jo: I think it depends on the situation. I'm not afraid to make the first move if I feel a connection, but I also believe in letting things happen naturally.

Interviewer: What is your biggest pet peeve?

Jo: People who are closed-minded or judgmental. I believe in acceptance and understanding, so it frustrates me when others can't see things from different perspectives.

Interviewer: What do you notice first about a person?

Jo: Their energy. I believe in vibes, and I can usually tell right away if someone is genuine and authentic.

Interviewer: What did you dream about last night?

Jo: I think it was more of a nightmare…*gets comically serious* I dreamt I was on stage completely naked, with just me and my drum kit. And I was using bananas instead of drumsticks. AND even worse the audience was throwing bananas at me! *hides face in hands* That’ll teach me to eat a banana before bed.

Interviewer: *doubles over laughing* Alright Jo...not to suddenly get serious but... This is the final question, and I know this is a sensitive subject for you, but I have to ask. What's "the incident" that caused you and you mother to transition back into normal life?

Jo: *sighs so deeply* I... honestly... I still don't think that I'm ready to share that just yet. It's very personal and I only feel comfortable sharing that information with someone who has thoroughly earned my trust.

Interviewer: I understand, I'm sure it takes a lot for you to even open up this much. Thank you for today. It's been wonderful getting to learn more about you.

#interactive if #interactive fiction #themuse if #twine if #twine interactive fiction #if: themuse #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #interact if #interactive story #interviews2 #twine story

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toomanybandstocare · 2 years

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{Isolation, Joy Division}

Program: It's never us. Never a friend group. Never a sense of connection. Just them and you in the same room. Billy just happens to catch a glimpse of your lonely self when it's too late to grab onto you. Before you disappear from their lives with no note. No phone call. Nothing.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove & GN! Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Swears, Weed, Mentions of past Billy, Mentions of drinking, Themes/moods of the following: abandonment, isolation, and replacement

Length: 2407w

Doubts Even Here | Camp Upside Down Masterlist

Counselor Notes: I feel so alone on this site and wonder if I should just stop sharing on here.

Do you ever feel like no one would miss you if you disappear?

That the phone lines would stay quiet if you just stopped ringing up your friends to hang out.

Even the cops wouldn’t bother to pick up your missing person’s case if someone cared enough to call it in.

If you were lucky, maybe Dateline would consider airing your mystery for a fleeting second before moving onto a bigger story.

That maybe you should have stayed in the Upside Down. Sealed off from the world and given a pitiful, hero’s wake.

Nancy Wheeler’s apartment looks like the typical twenty-some odd year old’s dream. An open space living room welcomes visitors when the door first opens. To the left of the living room, it merges into the kitchen with only an island countertop filled with soda liters and pizza boxes separating the rooms. Down the small hall to the right, visitors can find the bathroom and know to stay away from the bedroom at the end.

The whole friend group crams onto shitty sofas from hand me down parents. Holiday lights string across to the ceiling to illuminate all their smiling faces in a warm light. Laughter and out cries from the latest confession shared bubbles over the pristine record spinning in the background.

“I swear, these monthly hang outs are just for them to feed their egos,” Billy’s leg nudges your shoulder. Looking up from the uncomfortable bean bag chair, you’re met with a bored Billy staring at the main group. An unimpressed expression sits on his face.

“No. It’s nice to catch up, and you know that, Billy. Everyone here is extremely proud of the work you’ve put in and wants to hear how you’re doing,” you reassure him. His words, however, etch every letter into your mind and feed your hungry fears.

“More like, they want to make sure Max is safe, and that I’m not making her lie about weekly therapy. Keep your friends close. Your enemies closer,” he grunts into his cup. Words echoing in your aching head.

“They care,” you whisper. The tight atmosphere wraps around your neck as your hands start to shake.

“Sure, they do,” Billy snorts and looks down at you, “About themselves. None of this is going to matter next year. Or next month. Hell, I’ll be surprised if they remember their pissing competition by morning”.

Blood rushes to your ears, desperately trying to keep out his poisonous words. Your favorite flannel, normally a safety blanket, sits heavy against your skin. It constricts your breathing and pushes back every breath you try to take. His piercing blue eyes hold you captive as you hopelessly stare back at Billy.

“If it doesn’t add to their social standing, then they won’t give it a second thought,” he says slowly growing quiet. His eyes dart from your flushed face to your heaving chest and land on your trembling hands.”You alright,” Billy asks slowly while kneeling next to you. Biting into his bottom lip, his face scrunches up when met with silence.

Broken phrases and hurtful words while through your head. Pressure builds behind your skull, and it feels like you’re about to burst any minute. So, it is true.

Tears sting your dry eyes when you dare look over at the close knit group. No one seems to notice your lacking presence.

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat as you digest this new truth. You don’t add anything to their social standing.

A strangled breath cuts against your chapped lips when Eddie’s gaze drifts over you to settle on Jonathan’s animated form. They don’t miss you.

A snap cracks next to your ear. You jolt and whip your head to meet Billy’s look of distress. “Sorry, you were saying,” you uncomfortably laugh, “Stuck in my own thoughts, I’m afraid”.

You shift under Billy’s heavy gaze. “Are you alright? You were,” Billy pauses and pursues his lips in thought, trying to choose his words carefully. “It was like I was watching you die,” he darkly confesses.

A smile melts over your anxious expression and pushes back your raging emotions. “Very funny, Billy. Didn’t realize you were into Halloween that much”, you chuckle before lounging in your seat further. The slight hope that it would eat you up tickled your mind.

For the rest of the evening, Billy stays close to your side. Barely letting you out of his sight. An uneasy feeling gnaws at him. It only grows as the night goes on, and you fold into yourself more. As if you didn’t want to take up any space in the apartment you are so warmly welcomed into.

“Hey, do you think something’s wrong with-,” Billy tries to ask Steve at the kitchen island.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Steve waves him off and leans further into Jonathan’s side, “Gets like that sometimes”.

A pang hits Billy’s chest as he focuses on the teetering pair, “What do you mean? This happened before?”

Nancy scoffs as she pushes him to grab a water bottle, “I’m not that surprised you haven’t noticed, but this is pretty a pretty normal occurrence”. She lets Steve pull her into their cuddle, but Nancy keeps her attention on Billy. Her voice softens, “I think it’s just general nerves or anxiety being around groups. Nothing to worry about, and if it was, then we would know”. Nancy sends Billy a reassuring smile before allowing her boys to pull her into their conversation.

Irritated from his friend’s lack of concern, Billy faces out into the living room once more. Scanning the room, panic creeps up his spine and alarm bells ring in his head when he can’t find you. Without second thought, Billy places his cup on the island and rushes into the living room where Eddie, Robin, and Argyle lazily lounge on the sofa. “Hey, have you seen where-,” Billy hastily tries to grab their attention.

“Billy,” Argyle peers up at him, “I heard you were quite the party animal back in the day. Wanna join the rotation?”

Billy opens his mouth, tired of how everyone seems to forget your existence the minute they all get together, but he freezes. In Argyle’s outstretched hand, a lit joint balances between his slender fingers. A tempting invitation from his past.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” Billy chokes out and takes a step back. His eyes flicker between the joint and Argyle’s confused look. “I, um,” Billy wets his lips, “I don’t smoke anymore. Weed at least. I'm trying to lay off the drinking too, so I Iimit it now”. His heart pounds against his chest and desire leaves him dizzy.

“Wait, really,” Robin pushes off of Eddie’s shoulder, “We thought-”

“Yeah, I know what you all thought, Robin,” a hollow laugh accompanies Billy’s words. A fuzzy haze nips at his consciousness.

“She didn’t mean it like that, Billy,” Eddie sits up ready to step in at the sight of Billy’s haggard appearance. “Trust me, we’re all proud of you, man,” Eddie tries to continue, but clamps his mouth shut when Billy’s eyes cut through him.

“Don’t bullshit me, Munson,” Billy grits out. Running a hand through his hair, Billy takes a few deep breaths. The nipping feeling grows to a painful tingling that stings his skin. “Look,” Billy breathes out, “I know you guys don’t like me. I get it. I’m not holding it against anyone, especially not Max. Just don’t lie to me and say that your proud of the work I’ve put in to be a decent fucking person, when you don’t actually care at all. It’s disgusting, and I honestly thought you were above that, Munson”. The burning sensation scorches his insides.

The room drops silent. Only the distant car engines roaring downtown and the light record skip breaks the thick air.

“Is that really how you think of us,” Eddie asks. His hurt expression renders Billy speechless and slightly guilty. “Billy, man, we-,” Eddie stammers and stands up. Eddie steps over Robin and Argyle’s legs with ease, and he pulls Billy into a hug.

All the muscles in Billy’s body tense at the touch, and he desperately wants to escape the suffocating proximity. Past habits push Billy to twitch and flinch away, but Eddie pulls him closer. “You’re alright, Billy,” Eddie murmurs, “It’s okay. You’re safe. We do care about you. And, I am so sorry that we made you feel any less. Especially during such a difficult time”.

The scene was touching. Burning the sight into memory, the bitter feeling of resentment breaks your heart. Even Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve joined the living room when voices turned from casual conversation to hurtful truths. They stand just a footstep away from Billy as Robin and Argyle watch from the couch. All of them trying to give Billy the space he needs to process whatever is flying in his mind while still being near. Everyone supports Billy as he starts to let his walls come down.

“We’re all here for you, Billy,” Steve quietly reassures him, “I know I can speak for everyone here that we didn’t mean to exclude you at all”.

“I think we tried to let you ease into the group on your own, but ended up doing the opposite, huh,” Robin shakily rambles. “Trust me when I say this, it feels like the group is complete, you know? Like, you’ve always been around, and now that you’re not a dick, why wouldn’t we want you to be our friend. Other than the past trauma, but we can work past that! You’re working past that!”

Jonathan inserts himself between Robin and Billy, “What I think Robin is trying to get at is that you complete the group. Only people in this room have gone through all the Upside Down bullshit, and we all know that we have each other’s backs. For better or for worse. So, when you’re struggling, we want to be there for you on your terms”.

Standing in the shadowed hallway, tears fall to your cheeks and sting your lips with every word spoken. Who would have thought that Billy Hargrove would be the one to replace you.

Your feet silently move across the carpeted floor as a chorus of apologies mix with sobs.

Trembling fingers clutch your jacket from the coat rack when new evening plans begin to form.

Opening the door, you step past the threshold as they fall back into relaxed conversation and loving laughter.

With a sniffle and a click, you close the door. Feet dragging across the old floorboards, your thoughts hammer into your head with each step you take. Even if for a moment, it was nice to feel what it’s like to be cared for.

Walking into the crisp, Autumn night, the wind nips at the tear stains on your face. Side roads create a meltropolan web as your trudge through the city streets. Unknown road signs invite you to join the shadows of the night. Where people disappear and reappear in next week’s newspaper. What if they just wanted to escape the social constraints shackled to their wrists? To break free of the pressure weighing on their psyches as more people pick them clean of their love? Not everyone who goes missing wants to be found.

Rubber soles skid to a stop when your feet fit the cement staircase. With a heavy chest you walk up the stairs to your apartment building. Heart pounding against your rib cage as you insert your key into the scratched door knob. An uneasy sense of farewell washes over you as you walk into the small three bedroom apartment. You kick the door closed as you drop the key into the dish on the entryway side table.

The apartment sits in silence as the ghost of you walks to your place of rest. Not bothering to turn on a light, darkness castes over the near pristine open living room. Posters of rockstars greet you on the left side of the open room as you trudge past Eden’s shut door. Headlights intrude the glisten off the spotless kitchen through the blind’s slates. You move through the motion to get into your room and lay on top of your bed. Sealing yourself off from the world with your thoughts and a tantalizing world map hanging on your wall. Like hell, you would die in Indiana. You weren’t going to let the friends who abandoned you, bury you alive.

Snarling vines of anxiety slither down Billy’s throat and wrap around his lungs. Squeezing the screaming muscles with every second that ticks by. Shaking hands grip the sandy beige telephone closer to his ear in hopes of good news.

“Steve,” Billy rasps, “Have you heard from-”.

“No,” Steve’s panicked voice cuts him off, “Nothing. Literally nothing. No one- fuck, no one has heard anything”. Static muffles his hoarse voice, but Billy senses the same fear instilled in himself from across the line.

Chewing on his bottom lip and curling the telephone cord, Billy’s shoulders sag. “It’s only been a week since we hung out and five days since our last phone call. Maybe they just,” Billy’s haggard breath breaks his voice into wheezes. His knuckles turn white gripping the phone. “Steve, what if the upside-”

“Don’t,” Steve demanding tone cuts through, “It didn’t open up again. Flayer’s gone and never coming back”.

A heavy silence connects the two young men with clips of static stinging their ears as their hearts pound.

“Nancy is already heading to the cop station. Jonathan called Hopper just in case something,” Steve swallows the lump forming in his throat, “Just in case something did come back. But nothing did, Billy. We’re safe. Probably just went on a trip and forgot to tell us or something like that”.

Billy’s knees begin to buckle, and he leans against the cluttered kitchen counter, hanging onto every word Steve shares. His head pounds trying to process what the fuck you were doing. Is this just some game you're playing? Did you actually disappear? “We’re going to bring ‘em home. Right, Stev,” Billy’s brokenly mumbles into the phone.

A long pause shakes Billy to his core.

The metal molding digs into his skin as he holds his breath.

Steve’s voice sounds so small and unsure when it hits Billy’s ears.

“I don’t know, Billy. We’re going to try, but I can’t help but feel like this was planned”.

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