#but she can also get down to brass tacks
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ALSO VORTEX i actually like drawing my characters tisknfgdjkgdj
#art#sonic oc#sth#vortex the seagull#shes bad like shes good but shes bad#she is the type of bad everyone cant help but like#but she can also get down to brass tacks
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So, a very dear friend of mine asked me why I think that Hank is such a performer - why he's so good at it, why he enjoys it so much - and it's one of those things that I think is so integral to Hank's character that really determines if you 'get' Beast or not.
I think the brass tacks of it is - he enjoys the attention, he enjoys the affirmation, the praise. There's some lines of dialogue from his parents that state that he was basically the best case scenario they could've hoped for, considering his father's radiation accident - sure, he was weirdly strong, sure, his limbs were oversized, but he was otherwise extremely healthy and intelligent and not deformed like they feared he would be.
So there's a degree of a miracle baby thing going on, where they showered him with love and attention and found it hard to be genuinely angry with him, and especially as he went on, as he got more and more plaudits for being brilliant, I think he chased that high a little bit.
He throttles back a bit when he's older, to try and hide because mutant and he does like being normal even if he loves being praised and affirmed as well, but everyone is telling him to keep going, to be as brilliant as he can be - which, to him, means be VISIBLY brilliant, be VISIBLY great at what you do.
And even when he joins the Avengers, even after he achieves that status symbol, he's STILL chasing that affirmation, he's starting to create impossible standards for himself. He feels notably down when he isn't contributing in fights or with his scientific acumen, he takes it hard when people criticise him, and he starts to feel the need now to be a public face for mutantkind.
It's not really something he mentions as being a thing in Avengers because 70s Avengers wasn't all that interested in addressing the mutant angle, but it does become a plot point in New Defenders, where a college student calls him out for being one of the most public mutant faces there is (remember, this is before Xavier outed himself, so, like, the public mutant faces are probably Hank, Magneto, Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver . . . PROBABLY A LOT OF VILLAINS, and the X-Men, but they're secretive and known only as a weird paramilitary group) but not DOING anything with that status. And then he takes that hard, and forms a mutant advocacy group, because he wants to be good and be seen to be doing good.
There's also the aspect of needing to aggressively perform both masculinity and humanity - especially in Avengers, he's so hypersexual and so casually intelligent (he spends an entire issue just alternating between the dozen languages he knows for fun) because he wants you to consider him a man, and a human, before he's a Beast.
That's an element of his character that you see really obviously in his human form, where he's a fucking walking thesaurus, but there, it's to stand out, to seem smart, there's a degree of smugness and 'look at meeeee,' but the instant he turns blue and furry, it's more about 'look at me not being a freak.'
That only intensifies when he becomes feline, where you see a sort of melding of the two - he's a lot less casual with his speech, he almost slides back into his Big Words mode, but he also wants you to consider him friendly and approachable, so how much he drops a million dollar quote or word starts to oscillate depending on his audience. He changes depending on who he's talking to.
He also almost never shows his teeth when he smiles.
As for why he's so good at it - practice, a lot of reading, and I think a degree of underrated emotional sensitivity. In his way, he's more empathetic and kind and gentle than Jean can be - granted, Jean was fucking MEGA PISSED over the affair with Scott, but if you look at the way he treats Emma, it's very soft and teasing and nurturing, and he stands up for her even against his best friend Jean, who had psychically brutalised Emma.
She has the cheat code of telepathy, but Hank is just - naturally warm and tender. He's a very sensitive soul, not just in terms of being vulnerable but just knowing what people need to hear and being there for them. He's even capable of empathy for Mr. Sinister of all people.
If Percy had even an ounce of this insight into Hank's character, X-Force Beast would just be a performance. "This is what Krakoa needs, so I'll become it," but he just. Doesn't. Get. That. There are glimmers of it! HE'S SO CLOSE. SO CLOSE TO GETTING IT.
This SHOULD be why X-Force Beast is so overtly evil, why he's so despicable, why he's so stupidly villainous - because it's a performance, because that's the only kind of evil Hank can do, and it's KILLING him to do it. One last great performance, to save everyone he loves.
THAT. THAT. WHERE DID IT GO, BEN?
And, like . . . he's getting . . . a reaction. It isn't the reaction he wants, it isn't a reaction he enjoys, but it's a reaction, people . . . ARE paying attention to him, so in a way, that's telling him to keep going. Like, that'd be such an interesting, fucked up dynamic to lean into, that this is just a bit that went too far, that Hank can't stop himself, that his emotions are all fucked up and no-one can tell it's a performance anymore and no-one can pull him out, that he became the performance, but no.
Just evil.
It just sucks because I bet we're not even going to get a resolution on X-Force Beast's feelings about Krakoa and the Hellfire Gala. About the idea that he was the necessary bastard but it didn't keep them all safe, that all of his plans and gambits failed, that he sacrificed everything for nothing. Judging by X-Force #48, he's probably just going to do some Bond villain shit and get taken down. In his own villain turn, he's just - stripped, of all emotional complexity. There isn't a character there. It sucks, man.
It isn't even subtextual. It's just. It's there.
Like, Hank's fatal character flaws are: a complete insecurity in his own self-worth, a worrying fear that he's failed at everything he's ever tried to do, an anxiety that he's not truly human, never will be, never can be, and will in fact only get worse.
THOSE ARE ENOUGH TO BE GETTING ON WITH.
And he ameliorates those things by being charming and funny and playing to type so people like him.
Like, if these writers understood Hank, they would USE that by emphasising the fact that Hank's insecurities and fears and anxieties are growing to such a scale that it's affecting his ability to make emotional reads on people, and thus he's playing the WRONG role that he thinks they want from him, because that's tragic, and that's understandable, but instead they make it that he's just got an ego, or that he's just plain evil.
LIKE.
YOU COULD LITERALLY HAVE HANK BE PAGLIACCI.
"Heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain.
Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up."
Man bursts into tears.
Says, "But doctor...I am Pagliacci.”
Hank is always playing the clown, because it makes people happy and that makes him happy, but when they aren't happy, when the jokes don't work, there's no clown to make him feel better. That's when the bottom falls out. That's when you start getting the troubles. And that is tragic.
THAT is how you justify Hank doing horrible things, by making him chase ever greater jokes to tell, ever greater acts of devotion and amusement and entertainment for his audience, desperately hoping it'll bring the soothing balm of someone telling him he did good, because that is horrible, and that is real, and that is so sad.
But nah, evil.
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VIDEO CLIP‼️ + THEORY‼️
Of coooourse‼️ I’m no gossip~!😋💕💅‼️
FRANK IS SO DAMN FRUITY. I LOVE HIM. A LITTLE TOO MUCH
oh yeah btw, Every bug you click on at the website, all those videos are in Wally’s perspective. He’s always there, but his name is never mentioned until the end of the video. It is distorted and lowered because of course they don’t want you to find out. Under these videos are subtitles
All videos say Wally’s name at the end. Which shows that everyone knows Wally is there, they just don’t say his name and usually refer to themselves, someone else (if they’re there) and Wally in a pronouns sense instead of names (if Wally was ever hinted to be there. They’ll say each other’s names, just not Wally’s)
Here are some subtitles
FRANK: …So they just won’t leave my tomatoes alone- And who am I to shoo them away? Isn’t a beetle just as permitted to partake of my plants as I am, Julie?
JULIE: Posilutely absotively, Frank!
FRANK: But I’ve taken such good care of them- I read to them every day, I water them the perfect amount-
JULIE: [She playfully accentuates his words, trying to mimic his annoyed tone] Oh you do! You pour a whole book on them and read them a water on their little heads and everything!
FRANK: [Exasperated] Julie! I’m serious!
JULIE: [Laughs] Oh, I’m sorry, Frank, I’m only teasing- You know, if this is bothering you so much, you should have a little sign just for those bugs! It can say, [Said with a lower pitched voice] ‘Terrific Tomatoes! Look but don’t touch!’
FRANK: [Sound of amusement.] What makes you think they’re going to be able to read all that?
JULIE: Well they’ve got big beautiful eyes, don’t they? Like big ol’... Saucer plates!
FRANK: Oh Julie! Don’t be so rude! You wouldn’t like it if they said that about you!
JULIE: Said what about me? How lovely my hair is? That I put just the right amount of polish on my horns?
FRANK: No, more like, ‘that Julie Joyful with her nose like an orange!’
JULIE: Oh? [Laughs] If they said that, they’d also probably say, ‘Oh! That Frank Frankly with that banana on his face!’
FRANK: Banana?! [Laughs] Well if they’re going to be so rude in my garden, maybe it’s best they don’t get to partake of any more tomatoes then!
JULIE: That’s right! [Thoughtful hum] Well… How are we going to keep them out? Maybe Howdy’s got something in his shop!
FRANK: Howdy is more inclined to sell us canned laughter than he is to sell us something actually useful! Besides… I don’t think he liked my rendition of A Flea and a Fly.
JULIE: Oh don’t you fret! I’m sure we can come up with a wonderful joke between the three of us! Isn’t that right, Wally?
………..
POPPY: --pleased as poppyseed punch you asked me to make this cake for you, really, I-I-I-- well-- it’s such an honor!
SALLY: Oh, I’m sure it is, darling! Now, let’s get down to brass tacks.
POPPY: Oh, ah, well, I don’t think I have any of those - I don’t like to keep anything too sharp around here, you know–
SALLY: Details, Poppy dear, details.
POPPY: Ah! Of course. Of course! N-now then, what do you think you’d like?
SALLY: What would I like? Poppy, this is going to be on stage. It’s hardly a like, it’s a need. And it NEEDS to be BIG! BOLD!!
POPPY: Ah, b-big, big, yes… maybe, three tiers, then?
SALLY: Only three? Hah!! Dream bigger, Poppy!!
POPPY: O-o-oh, ah, um-- y-yes, yes, suppose it is a big neighborhood, better to play it safe-- [little chuckle] and you, ah, you do know I love to play it safe, dear!
SALLY: Ah, ah, ah, but not too safe! After all, this needs to be a showstopper! It needs to have beauty! Pizzazz! DANGER!
POPPY: D-danger? Oh, oh, oh my feathers, I don’t know how I feel about making a dangerous cake…
SALLY: Ahh, tut-tut-tut, my feathered friend! You’ll do great, I’m certain of it. There’s no one else in the neighborhood I would trust with this! [under breath] And not just because you’re the only one here who can make something that doesn’t come out of a gelatin mold.
POPPY: Oh-!! A-a-ah, well, goodness me-- you’re going to make me blush!
SALLY: [Satisfied chuckle] So! I take it you have everything you need?
POPPY: Oh-- um-- w-well, er, not quite-- see, when I asked what you’d like, I thought, maybe, you would have a flavor in mind…?
SALLY: A what?
POPPY: W-well, a flavor. You know, ah, we could do chocolate, or vanilla, or sprinkles, buttercream, butterbell, butterscotch…
SALLY: Oh. Hm. To be honest with you, I didn’t think that far.
POPPY: …you didn’t think about the flavor?
SALLY: [Lightly defensive] Well the audience can’t taste it from their seats, now can they?? Ohh. What do you think, Wally?
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☆ title: redefining (ch. 8) | ( ch. 7 ) ☆ ( ch. 9 )
☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader
☆ wc: 3.4k
☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 10-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?
☆ warnings/notes: nsfw. mdni. cop!daichi. use of blindfold (in a non-sexual way). fluff. a hint of angst. y/n gets a glimpse of what love is supposed to feel like. outdoor sex. this chapter made me laugh out loud. it also made me cry out loud.
She’s falling in love now, losing control now
Fighting the truth, trying to hide
But I think it’s alright, girl
Yeah, I think it’s alright, girl
Losin’ Control - Russ
You’d been having the work week from hell, and it was only Tuesday morning. As you groaned at yet another email, one for which the reply was going to require a shit ton of research, you heard the ZZZT of a new notification on your silenced phone. Longing for a break from the mind-numbing analysis, you reached for it, your heart skipping far too many beats to be considered healthy before nearly leaping out of your throat. It was the first time you’d heard from Daichi Sawamura since he left your house Sunday morning.
Yeahhhh. You still hadn’t deleted his contact info. Yet!
You eagerly swiped to see his text.
Officer Big Dick: Hey, lady. How’s your day going?
You: My whole week has been shit so far, but hi! How are you?
Officer Big Dick: Pretty good, but I’m sorry to hear that. Is it cool if I call you?
You: Now?
Officer Big Dick: Yeah. Or later. Whatever’s best for you.
Rather than replying with a ‘yes’, you tapped the phone icon and nearly slid right out of your chair when you heard his baritone voice, smooth and warm like melted butter.
“Hi.” You could hear him smiling.
“Hi,” you mimicked, knowing full well he could also hear your idiotic grin.
“I’m sorry you’re having a shitty week. Is there anything I can do?”
You politely declined his offer and exchanged a few niceties before he got down to brass tacks.
“So, I was wondering if you’re gonna be free either Friday or Saturday night?”
“Daichi…” You hoped he couldn’t hear your smile morph into a grimace. “I…I’m not going out on a date with you.”
“It’s not a date. We’ll just hang out. There’s something I want to show you.”
“Oh, really?” A smile began to tug at the corners of your mouth again as your eyebrows knitted with curiosity. “What’s that?”
“Well, it’s a surprise.”
“Damn it, Daichi,” you snickered. “You tease.”
“So will you be free?”
It was your ex’s weekend with your son. “Yes, both nights.”
“Okay, good. Be ready at twenty-one hund - sorry, my brain is in work mode - nine o’clock Friday night. I’ll come pick you up and take you to a super-secret location.”
You giggled, but you were intrigued. “You’re not gonna tell me where though?”
“No. It wouldn’t be a super-secret location if I told you.”
You rolled your eyes, but the happiness was plastered all over your face. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You heard the laugh in his breath before you went on. “Can you at least give me an idea as to how I should dress?”
“Just wear something comfortable. Casual. Oh, and warm.”
Friday night rolled around and even though you were tired from the hellacious work week you’d had, you were also excited to find out what Daichi had up his sleeve. If you were honest with yourself, which you weren’t, you were also giddy about seeing the sweet cop again. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself. ‘Sweet’ and ‘cop’ - two words that didn’t belong in the same thought, let alone the same sentence.
The butterflies in your gut went into a frenzy when you saw the Interceptor’s low beams approaching in your driveway. You would never begin to understand how armpits can get stone cold and sweaty at the same damn time.
You opened your front door as Daichi walked up the stairs and onto your porch, both of you beaming brighter than his headlights. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets and cupped your face. The coolness of his touch offered soothing relief to the heat that had risen in your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you, but it did nothing for the freefall. You grabbed onto his arms to steady yourself as you swayed in your boots.
Pulling away, he said, “You ready?”
“Yes,” you said, still breathless from his kiss. “And just so we’re clear, this is not a date!”
“Right.” He smiled and nodded. “This is not a date.” It sounded suspiciously equivalent to a man’s secret to a happy marriage - just nod and say ‘yes, dear’.
After you locked up, he took your hand and walked you out into the chilly night air towards his vehicle. However, rather than opening your car door, he pulled something out of his back pocket.
“Alright,” he said, “I’m gonna put this blindfold on y-”
“Wh-what? No!”
He dropped his arms. “I can’t take you to a super-secret location if you can see where we’re going!” He tried and failed to suppress his inner smartass. “If you’d rather, I can put a bag over your head instead.”
You burst into laughter and slapped at his chest. “Shut up, Daichi!” You went to poke him in his ribs, but he dodged, wheezing. You crossed your arms, your lips twisting to the side. “Fine, go ahead. Put it on me.”
“The blindfold or the bag?”
“I SWEAR TO GOD, DAICHI, I WILL MARCH RIGHT BACK INTO THAT HOUSE AND YOU CAN TRY AGAIN TOMORROW, SIR!” You’d never get tired of the way he smiled when he laughed.
After carefully tying the black cloth behind your head, he waved his hand in front of your face before helping you into the front passenger seat. He closed your door before joining you on the driver side.
“No peeking!” he warned.
Daichi had been driving for what felt like about twenty minutes when you huffed, “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” he assured you. “Just a few more miles.”
“Miles?! We’ve already been driving for so long!”
“I know. Just try to be patient…”
Eventually, you felt the car slow down as Daichi took a turn, the smooth pavement giving way to gravel judging by the way it crunched under the tires. You felt the SUV make another slow turn, the crunching of the gravel disappearing as the terrain became a little bumpier. Daichi brought it to a stop and put the steering gear into park before killing the engine.
“Where the hell are we?”
“Hang on, I’ll come around and help you out,” he said, unbuckling.
Your door opened and Daichi took your hand as you swung your legs around. He had you put your hands on his shoulders before gripping your waist in his big hands and safely lowering your feet to the ground.
You were outside, that much was obvious. There were no other voices, so you accurately surmised that it was just the two of you. As he guided you, you could faintly make out the occasional swoosh of a car driving down the distant highway, but otherwise there were only the sounds of your and Daichi’s footsteps and the gentle whisper of a breeze as it passed through some nearby trees.
You hadn’t walked very far when he stopped and turned you ninety degrees before strategically lifting your chin a little.
“Okay, stay just like that. Don’t even move your head,” he spoke in a hushed tone.
“This is ridiculous, but okay.” You felt him untying the knot behind your head, careful not to pull any of your hair. When the dark material was lifted from your eyes, you opened them only to have your breath taken away in exchange for your sight. Your hands flew to your mouth as if to try and keep what little air remained in your lungs from escaping as ancient light reflected in your watery eyes.
“What is that?” you whispered as one might when standing on hallowed ground.
“It’s the spiral arm of our galaxy. Well, one of them anyway.”
It was a hazy band of white light some thirty degrees wide, splitting the night sky like a sheet, spinning at an imperceptible rate of 130 miles per second.
“No fucking way.” You were still speaking in hushed tones as though it was a rare sighting of a small animal that could dash away at any moment. “It’s not even possible to see that from Earth, is it? Not with the naked eye.”
“Sure, it is. At a dark sky site such as this,” Daichi clarified, looking around at the other celestial bodies. “Far away from all the light pollution of the city, you can see all kinds of deep space objects.” Your wide, wandering eyes never left the sky when he squeezed your shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Gonna grab a few things from the car.”
He returned moments later, a soft chortle leaving his lips as he watched you turn this way and that with your chin tilted up towards the stars. You’d never seen so many at once. Daichi spread one of the blankets out over the short grass and sat down, crossing one ankle over the other. Following the sound of his voice, you finally looked away from the sky, so dark you could barely see him. You went to sit down next to him, but he opened his legs and pulled you to sit between them instead.
After draping a blanket over you, he reached over and handed you a pair of binoculars so you could get an even more intimate view of the universe from your Earthly position.
“You see that constellation that looks like a W?”
You squinted through the binocular lenses, trying to follow the trajectory of his pointed finger. “Oh! Yeah, I see it.”
“Alright, following the line from the right tip of it, look up a bit. Can you see an orange, fuzzy-looking blur? It’s really faint.”
It took you a few seconds, but you finally zeroed in on it. “Yeah? But barely.” It was too blurry to be a star. “What is that?”
“That’s Andromeda.”
“Andromeda? You mean the galaxy?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you said, smiling. “There are trillions of stars in that tiny orange blur…”
What kind of man brings you out to a super-secret location and shows you not one, but two fucking galaxies? It was the single most romantic thing a guy had ever done for you.
You handed the binoculars back to Daichi in favor of taking in the majesty of the heavens through your naked eyes. Planting his palms on the ground, he leaned back so you could comfortably recline with the back of your head resting on his chest.
Sniffling, you looked out at things that were real, but that you never thought you’d see with your own eyes.
“Are you cold?” he asked, hand rubbing up and down your arm.
With your back still turned to him, you shook your head no.
Why was he doing this? You’d already had sex with him several times. You’d given him more pussy in the last few weeks than you’d given at all in the prior few years. You both knew he didn’t have to do all this to get his dick wet. So why would he do this for you?
He planned this. He prepared for this. He noticed something special about you…and remembered. He thought of you and called you in advance. He made you laugh, and as hard as you tried to fight it, he made you cry. Trying not to sniffle again forced you to breathe through your mouth, your attempt to mask your feelings only backfiring when you drew a turbulent breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as the first tears rolled down your cheeks.
“You okay?”
Searing tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you sniffled again, and his hand stopped caressing your arm.
“Y/n, are you crying?”
“S-shut up,” you gasped, interlacing your fingers with his and bringing his arm to rest across your waist.
His arm flexed around you, pulling you closer. “Is something wrong?”
Maintaining your silence, you shook your head truthfully. There was nothing wrong. Everything was right.
As he was prone to do, rather than force the issue or pry it out of you, he let it go, trusting that you would tell him if you wanted him to know.
As you sat in comfortable silence with Daichi, you realized it was becoming increasingly possible that you could lose this battle with him. This battle that either he didn’t know existed, or one for which he was using his strategy of fearless honesty to beat you at your own game - not by force, but by disarmament. Perhaps the joke was on you and Daichi was the one who was in control.
“You know what my favorite thing is about stargazing?” he asked thoughtfully, brushing his thumb along yours. Something you’d noticed about him is that he almost never speaks more loudly than is necessary to be heard.
“Hm?”
“Not only are we looking out into space, but we’re also looking back in time. Andromeda is roughly two and a half million light years away. The light reaching our eyes took that long to get here. So, we’re seeing that galaxy as it existed two and a half million years ago. Betelgeuse could explode tonight and we wouldn’t be able to see it from Earth for over 500 years.”
“Wow,” you whispered.
“Pretty crazy that we’re looking at the stars as they used to be, not as they are right now.” You turned slightly and looked up at Daichi, who looked back down at you with a small smile. “It reminds me that I’m alive; to have the rare opportunity to see something so profound. Somehow this relatively insignificant human existence feels rather exclusive, doesn’t it?”
You reached up behind his neck to bring him closer for a kiss. His tender lips lingered on yours, in no hurry at all as though the two of you had millions of light years for this one kiss.
You pulled away and turned around to straddle his lap. His bulky arms pulled you in for a hug, your arms holding fast around his neck as you buried your face in it.
“Are you happy?” Daichi asked, rubbing your back.
Shivering, you nodded. “I am now.”
You hadn’t spoken ten words in as many minutes, and both of you were perfectly okay with that. Words weren’t necessary for the conversation the two of you were having. You were sharing more than words could ever say and you wanted to be closer. You kissed Daichi’s neck, making him hum as you trailed your way to his waiting lips to kiss him again, this time more deeply.
He rolled you onto your back, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths, hands roaming one another’s bodies, removing articles of clothing in the process. You shivered in the cool night air, your nipples tightly pebbled against Daichi’s bare chest. He pulled the blankets over the tangled mess of your bodies as best he could until your hand guided his face to look at you as the other reached between his legs.
“Please…Daichi. Need you inside,” you sighed, the warmth of your breath tickling his ear.
Exhaling, he quickly nodded as two pairs of socked feet peeked out from the bottom, blankets be damned. He hissed a little at the feeling of his cold fingertips as he guided his hard length to your warm, waiting entrance. He pushed his wet tip inside, his fluttering brown eyes melting as your liquid heat embraced him, welcoming him deeper and deeper within.
“Mm y/n…you feel amazing,” Daichi praised.
He propped himself on his forearms, his large hands framing the sides of your face, watching your lips part with a sigh as he slowly sheathed his full length deep inside you. He held himself there for a moment, admiring your beauty in the faint glow of ancient starlight while basking in the soft warmth that enveloped him.
You squirmed beneath him, eagerly anticipating the first powerful snap of his hips. “Fuck me, Daichi,” you breathed, a hint of urgency in your quiet voice.
Brushing his thumb across your cheek, he shook his head. “No. I don’t wanna fuck you tonight, y/n. I wanna go slow and make you feel everything.”
Making love was dangerous at best. It made you feel too much; too many things that felt unsafe and uncomfortable - intimacy, vulnerability, tenderness.
“Y/n, look at me,” he whispered.
You opened your eyes to find yourself falling into his. There it was again, something so overwhelming that it took courage to hold his gaze. As he began to roll his hips, you became intensely aware that he was seeing all the way inside you, a wordless exchange between you as he communicated directly with your soul. It was familiar, comfortable, and all so terrifying.
You knew you should’ve pulled away or put a hand up to stop him. But your body bid him passage, opening up to him again and again.
He wasn’t supposed to be here - in your life, your mind, your body, and certainly not in your heart. So why couldn’t you just let him go already? You kept pushing him away, but when it came time to let your hands fall away from him and part ways, rather than let him go, you’d do the exact opposite and pull him closer again.
With his hips snug between your thighs, you wrapped your legs around his waist, moving with him as his manhood dragged deliciously along your slick walls. He looped his strong arms behind your back, putting a little more of his weight on you, but you didn’t mind. You felt safer this way, chest heaving against his as his girthy tip bumped your sweet spot.
Your breathless whimpers of his name traveled at light speed from his ears to the base of his spine, compelling his body to move a little faster. Faint wet noises emanated from where your earthly bodies collided sweetly, Daichi’s thighs flexing as he made love to you with the stars as your witness.
You were grateful for the ambient darkness so he couldn’t see the fresh tears welling in your eyes. However, the stars shone in them like moonlight flickering across the surface of a lake, belying the depth of its ripples in its superficial stillness. Daichi knew but kept it to himself lest you close your eyes or look away from him again.
You felt every inch of him as he rolled his languid hips against you, strong and naked. The coarse black hairs that covered his pubic bone teased and tickled your clit as he rutted into you.
“Nnhm…Dai-“ Your voice was little more than a whine against his open lips when your orgasm hit, your pulsing heat sending him as well. His hips stilled as a low groan accompanied the spilling of his warm seed inside you.
“Am I crushing you? I can move-“ he offered hoarsely as he shifted. But you shook your head and tightened your hold on him. You could feel him smile against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You still weren’t ready to let go. Not yet. You wanted to keep him close just a little while longer.
You stayed just like that, your bodies melded together, gasping, twitching, not wanting to part. Tender kisses, brushes of lips and noses, lazy fingers tracing affection on one another’s skin. Both of you had learned a new definition of ‘warm’, one which promised that neither of you would ever have to know the meaning of cold ever again if you would but accept it.
When the time came Daichi rolled off of you and the two of you cuddled for a few minutes when you yawned. He insisted on getting dressed and taking you home before you fell asleep. But you didn’t want him to take you home. You wanted him to take you to his bed, back where this all began. If this was to be your last night together, you wanted to be immersed in Daichi’s space, his scent, him.
You’d just snuggled up to the police officer in his bed, yawning as he held you close.
You could hear his amused smirk when he said, “The sex tonight was … stellar.”
“Oh my god, has anyone ever told you that you tell dad jokes?” you laughed with a playful push of his shoulder.
He recoiled in genuine surprise. “R-really? Are they that bad?””
But before he could finish, his face was in your hands. “I’m laughing, aren’t I?”
“Maybe you have a really bad sense of humor…”
Both of you were drunk on exhaustion, but the delirium soon gave way to sleep. That night, you dreamt that Daichi plucked stars from the sky and put them in your heart.
ch. 7 ☆ ch. 9
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following the current, circling the drain
read on a03 | spotify playlist for good vibes
Well, shit, this certainly complicates things. Found myself in a bit of a conundrum now, haven't I? You probably have too, since you're also sitting in this shitty little cracker box of a "prison cell" in the basement of self-proclaimed warlord and arms dealer Sitis Epirian's sort-of-mansion. Or what counts as a mansion on this blessed rock called Omega. It’s more like a mercenary compound with fancy art tacked up on the walls than an actual mansion. Big and fortified, just like any hobbyist warlord should have.
Name's Inonsi, I'd say it's good to meet you, but the circumstances being what they are ...
Shit, will you calm down? Stop freaking out, it's not so bad here. They even put a bucket in here so you can piss somewhere other than your pants or the floor. I've been stuck in worse, comes with the territory. If you wait patiently, everything will work out, you can trust me on that. I've never let something like six-inch bulletproof glass with kinetic impact barriers, high tech security systems, locks, and a literal mercenary army stop me before. And if you so happen to slip out when I'm done ... well, that's none of my business, now is it?
I know what you're thinking, how did the drell with beautiful shining scales and eyes like endless obsidian pools end up getting manhandled and tossed into a man like Epirian's torture dungeon? Well, I could tell you the entire story from start to finish in exacting and exhaustive detail, right down to the number of buttons on my father's dinner jacket that he wore one time when I was five years old (seven brass buttons that caught the light and shimmered like small stars, by the way), but I won't do that. You humans don't have the attention span for that kind of biography.
But we've got some time to kill, I love talking about myself, and you seem like you're on the verge of a stroke. You need a distraction. Put your feet up friend, relax and let the tide flow out to the sea.
Disappearing Apprentice
I was a special child, training under a specialist known far and wide for her skills in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. Why was a child training under someone like that? Easy enough answer, the Compact. The hanar saved my people two centuries ago and now there's some long-held belief that all drell owe a debt to the hanar for it. And so sometimes, promising young upstarts with apparent skill in sneaking around and good balance get plucked from their parents to be trained as assassins, soldiers and mercenaries, and they're supposed to be thankful for it.
Etensan Laon was a difficult mistress, impossible to please.
"Again!" She shouts. A crimson scaled hand flies out and wraps tight around my ankle. One short tug topples me from my perch on the worn balance beam, the fading vinyl covering over the center evidences the apprentices of times past. I land hard on my back, my breath comes in short, painful gasps, her fingers are still digging around my ankle. She sneers down at me, lips turned up in the left corner with disdain. There are white stripes running from the crown of her head to her neck. "Balance and attention, Inonsi! Simply remaining upright when you land your jump is not sufficient. You will fall to your death if a strong breeze catches you unaware, as I have just done."
I am only seven years old, but she will not let go of my ankle. I know I must free myself from her grasp. One cannot depend on never being caught. Her talons scrape against my scales, still sore from the last two days we have been doing this exercise, repeating this exact scenario. "Yes, Sera Laon," I say before I swing my other leg beneath hers and attempt to pull her down. She does not fall to the ground, her knee only buckles, but her grip around my ankle weakens and I roll back, pulling myself free.
It is sloppy, unskilled, but it works. I leap back onto the balance beam to start again. I must be perfect. Etensan Laon does not tolerate imperfection.
Oh, sorry about that. Happens sometimes. You get used to it.
Well, I trained with Laon until I was ten years old. I was great. At ten years old, if something had a neck, I could theoretically snap it. If there was something to climb, leap from, hide behind, or twist myself into, I could do it. You know that thing in all the spy movie vids where the spy disappears into a crowd or into a passing shadow? Well, I could do that too. But I wasn't perfect, and I hated that as much as Laon seemed to hate me. It worked out in the end though.
Because I got to leave.
I was allowed to visit with my parents sometimes, and one of those times, my world went upside down. You see dear old dad got involved in some political scandal, the nature of which is quite embarrassing if you know anything about hanar-drell politics, which you don't, so don't worry your head about it. Suffice to say, he and mom elected to leave Kahje and well, they weren't going to leave precious little Inonsi behind. I waved goodbye to Kahje from the private passenger cabin of a very pricey transport shuttle. I was ten and to my mind it was an exciting adventure. Besides, I'd gotten in trouble with Laon because I had been caught stealing yetae blossoms from the tree in the meditation garden, and my parents were in such a rush to get off world that she never had the opportunity to tattle on me.
How was I supposed to know you weren't allowed to pluck them straight from the tree? It's not like there were signs posted around the ancient tree that I willfully ignored from the moment I arrived at the training center to the moment I left it. The blossoms smelled so sweet. If they didn't want me taking them, maybe they shouldn't have smelled so good. Following the rules has never been my strong suit.
If my parents had known then exactly how often I was stealing they might have kept a better eye on me once we landed at our destination, because flowers from a tree didn't even really count as stealing, there were other things. Mostly Laon's things. I didn't even keep them, I would just sneak into her quarters or pick her pockets and take things. Datapads, credit chits, clothing, incense burners ... whatever I could get my little hands on. I threw almost all of it into the ocean. She never caught me stealing anything that mattered. Just those fucking flowers that she treated like holy relics.
Urchin? Sort of.
And then, middle, middle, middle. You don't want to hear about the quiet years on Teyolia, where father dearest conducted secretive business, and I definitely did not make a habit of listening in on his conversations or hacking his computer terminal and reading his encrypted emails. I most certainly didn't bug his office. Nope. Not Inonsi, she never ever would have done that.
Just kidding. Let's just say that perhaps nature versus nurture might lean more toward nature in my case. My poor, long-suffering mother.
I kept to myself at school mostly, I stuck out like ... well a bright orange and purple thumb in a sea of tall, blue and beautiful girls. I was easy to mock, short by asari standards (and also drell standards, but that's neither here nor there), and very, very different. It's okay though, the meanest of the girls, Paresya, found a lot of her school supplies missing. A lot of her girlfriends too, as we got older. What can I say? I have a certain mystique about me, it would be a shame not to leverage that to my advantage.
Oh please, don't give me that look. You're in this cell too. Don't tell me you've never done something juvenile and vindictive like stealing someone's girlfriend or boyfriend out of spite. I don't believe it.
When I was sixteen I grew dreadfully bored of school and of teenage asari superiority, so I started skipping classes frequently. It's incredible how long you can get away with that if you know how to hack into the school's attendance system and reprogram the VI that calls the parents when you're absent. All those phone calls went to some takeout joint in the next city over. By the time my parents were contacted by a real person, I'd missed approximately a quarter of that year's lessons.
You know, those asari do a very good job of making their colonies and cities look like marvelous, utopic jewels. If you stay on all the main thoroughfares, in all of the tourist centers, you might even find yourself believing it. But at sixteen, I found my way to the seedy underbelly of Iare, a moderately large city in the main colony of Teyolia. I found a group of kids, far more diverse than I'd ever been exposed to before. I was used to living first around drell and hanar exclusively, and then mostly asari. They were poor kids, a pair of turian siblings whose parents were day laborers, a salarian whose dad was sort of like mine, but unlike mine had recently had the rug pulled out from under him, and an asari who didn't talk about her family at all.
I pulled the same trick. They were fun kids, and I didn't want them to know that I got to go home at night to a nice apartment with flawed, but loving parents. Zelthatea, Zel to anyone who didn’t want to get socked in the face, didn’t talk about her family for much darker reasons, but I was sixteen, and using her method seemed like the best way to fit in.
We were tight, those kinds of bonds formed by committing small acts of theft and property damage together. The kinds formed through spending whole days together rough housing and running away from cops, shrieking with relieved laughter as we narrowly escaped capture. And then they found out I could do tricks. I could scale a building, leap from rooftop to rooftop, and I started teaching them how to do some of it. Soon enough, we had ourselves a little gang of roof running hooligans, we would do beer runs on convenience stores, and escape into alleys and up and away from prying eyes, that sort of thing.
We got too big for our ill-fitting pants, though. I wish I could tell you that I don’t remember whose idea it was to break into a corporate office and try to make off with company secrets, but if a drell ever tell you that, you know they’re lying. Only one of us had a dad who was in the corporate espionage business, so you do the math. There I was, in the CEO’s office with Zel, Apus and Catiae were our lookouts and were pretending to be janitors. Dex (the salarian, he didn’t like us using his real name) was our man on the outside, he was supposed to keep an eye out for security and police activity. He lost his nerve the first time he saw someone who looked like she might have been security and darted off without telling us!
“Shit, something’s up, get out of there!” Apus calls into the room right before tossing the trash cart over on its side and dashing down the hall towards the fire stairs. Catiae is hot on his heels. Her secondhand boots crash against the tile floor noisily as her footsteps pound heavy, sounding her escape. They don’t quite fit her yet. They were her mothers, one of the buckles hangs loose, it clinks mockingly as she ducks through the door.
Zel looks at me, panic in wide, ocean blue eyes. She is already crying, but she doesn’t want to leave me behind. She is always so sweet, usually quiet. Three emerald lines draw down over her pointed chin, the only facial markings she has. “Zel, hide! I’ll run a distraction. Don’t leave until it’s safe,” I say. Out of all of us, she doesn’t deserve to get caught committing a real crime.
I snatch the OSD I was using to transfer a clone of the CEO’s terminal on and beat feet out of the door. Four guards turn the corner, they wear heavy armor, deep blue, accented with gold. I wave my hand at them, making sure they see the OSD held in my fingers. “Genteux gives his regards!” I shout. Genteux doesn’t exist, or at least, I do not believe he does, I’ve never heard of anyone named Genteux. I run for the elevator and dart inside. I send it down to the first floor, climb out of the maintenance hatch and pry open the doors on the second. One, two, three, four running steps to the window. It is not the kind that opens. Shit, I panic. I pick up a chair and send it hurling through with a neon biotic burst.
No hesitation, I leap through, tuck and roll to the ground. It hurts, but I haven’t broken anything. I land right in the center of a congregation of Iare’s finest, guns raised and trained on me.
Everyone but Dex got caught. I did my best to take the fall for it. It was my big-brained idea after all. But well, my dad wasn’t exactly a paragon of upstanding citizenry, as I have alluded to already. Money floated into someone’s grasping hands, and I was let off with a slap on the wrist. Despite my desperate pleading, daddy dearest did not extend his kindness to the poor kids who got wrapped up in my ego.
Well, my days as an up-and-coming criminal mastermind were cut quite short at that point. Mom was furious, dad was embarrassed, and apparently lost a lot of business (judging by the angry phone calls I was still horning my way into) because I allegedly chose my target based on some conversations that were very private. Allegedly.
We picked up and moved again. I won’t tell you where to, dad still lives there, conducting his business.
They say there’s no honor among thieves, but I am daddy’s little girl. I never put his lifestyle in jeopardy again, and I will not do so now.
Mom eventually wised up to his shenanigans, by the way, and is living the high life in the tropics. Last I heard, she’s started seeing a nice young drell. Good for her. I believe you humans would call her a cougar. She seems happy, and that’s what matters.
Hey, settle! The guard’s just cranky because of the little surprise I left in one of the bathrooms. I mean, maybe some people think a flashbang rigged up so that the pin gets pulled when the door opens isn’t a good prank, but those people aren’t tormenting assholes like these guys. This guard’s a pussy, he’s just trying to rattle our cage a bit. Keep it together, will you? Losing your cool because the guy is threatening to pull our fingernails out one by one because he has a migraine and moderate to severe hearing loss now is a surefire way to miss our chance.
Now, where was I? Oh, don’t answer that, it’s hypothetical. I know exactly where I was.
Actually an Acrobat
I was kept under lock and key right up until my parents could no longer do so without it being considered false imprisonment or kidnapping. I mean, I still got out. Often. Civilian security is child’s play, and it’s frankly embarrassing that more people don’t know how to hack open a regular old apartment door and slip out into the night.
This story has to, of course, touch on tragic young love. All the great stories do. And mine is pretty good, if I do say so myself. And I do.
Upon gaining the freedom afforded by adulthood, I immediately tried my hand at the nightclub scene. I learned two things right away, club goers are easy pick-pocketing targets, and that the cocktail called the “Rough Tide” is the best alcoholic beverage to be crafted by clever asari mixologists. Its main components are lunassa, a very strong asari liquor, and juice from the olan fruit native to Kahje. There are other things mixed in it, but I’ve never bothered with the finer points of cocktail mixing. The sweetness of the fruit masks the surprising strength of the liquor, and when you stand up the tide sweeps you off your feet.
I’ve made some of my best bad decisions under the influence of a Rough Tide … or three … or four. My favorite best bad decision was Tertus Achaso, even when you account for the aforementioned tragedy. I was sitting at the bar, pleasantly drunk but not out of my mind on it, when a barefaced turian with a charming smile, chipped third tooth, and sharp, honey eyes slid onto the seat next to me. His first words to me were, “So do the colors go all the way down?” Very charming. Very smooth. It should have been very off-putting. But what can I say? I’m a sucker for a good smile.
“Buy me another drink, and maybe you’ll find out,” I answered. I was looking for a good time, and it seemed I had found it. What? Oh, the answer? I am all the colors of a desert sunset from my head to my toes. You should be so lucky to see me in my full glory.
Stop distracting me.
We talked for a while, and he did buy me a drink, another Rough Tide. He laughed when I told him that I couldn’t stand the taste of hard liquor. He laughed even harder when I admitted that I had (still have, thank you) a terrible sweet tooth. One thing led to the only place this was ever going – a cheap hotel room.
He smells of fresh cut lumber and canvas. There is a scar cut deep into the keel of his chest, long healed. Dark brown hide, patterned with sandy, rough plates. He’s surprisingly gentle for someone so large. Fingers tenderly trace down-
Ahem, sorry. That’s not the kind of memory that one should share, especially with a stranger. We’ll just gloss over that by me telling that he worked for a traveling circus, and I happen to be very flexible. I made an impression on him, and he made an impression on me.
So Inonsi runs off with the no-so-smooth talking turian to join the circus, right? I had stars in my eyes, like all young women do. Tertus could do no wrong, and I became enamored with both him and the idea that I could make a living of being an entertainer. I wowed audiences with suicidal feats of acrobatic grace, tight ropes, swinging on long swathes of cloth, leaping from heights that made most people sick. Finally, I was putting my training to use. No more petty thievery for me, and breaking and entering because I was bored, I was going straight.
Ha!
See the thing was that those kinds of circuses, the ones that are not owned by multibillion credit entertainment conglomerates, are filled to the brim with criminals and rejects of every stripe. Beautiful, gentle, and sweet Tertus was one of them. A criminal, I mean. He was probably a reject too, but he was my, admittedly very small, world so I didn’t see him that way. Some nights, he would step away from the other stagehands to go make phone calls. I’ve always been too curious for my own good. I listened in on those too, I am ashamed to say. I am capable of some shame, not much, but some.
Look, I didn't listen because I didn't trust him. I just like to know things. People are always having such interesting conversations, don't you think?
If only listening in on his conversations drove me to some sort of action. But it didn't. He had the kind of debts a lowlife criminal with a former drug addiction came upon. Tertus did more crimes to make creds so he could pay those debts, circus work does not pay well, and in the process, he pissed some very bad people off. This place wasn't like Omega, where you can't throw a rock without hitting some wannabe mob boss, so he thought he would be safe traveling with a planet-side circus.
It was the morning before our first show in a new city, I'd been with the circus and Tertus for several months at that point (eight months and four days according to the local calendar, to be exact). We actually had an auditorium to perform in that time, and I was excited do all of my tricks. There were poles to climb, flowing fabrics to spin around in, things to dive off of. It was going to be magnificent, and people were going to learn my name. And Tertus and I were going to live happily forever. And he was late to meet me at a diner for breakfast. That wasn't very unusual, circus folk run on a different sort of clock - the kind that's always late.
But after an hour of waiting, I decided to go looking for him. As I was crossing over a foot bridge heading back towards the hotel most of us were staying at, I heard boots slamming on concrete. Have you ever heard a sound that's innocuous, an everyday sound, but it's so wrong it sets your teeth on edge?
Sun is warm on my back. One, two, three, four rushing steps, panicked breathing. I look up and see Tertus running full speed toward me. He doesn't see me at first, too focused on watching his feet to make sure he doesn't trip. His eyes meet mine, halfway across the bridge, eyes wide with fear. "Go! Run!" he shouts as he grows nearer to me. But I can see what he cannot.
Three men carrying assault rifles are gaining on him. Two turians, one krogan.
I know something that Tertus doesn't. You can't outrun a bullet. The world slows to a crawl. Fear roots me to my spot until it is too late to do anything to save him. I have never heard a gun fired outside of a range or without protection for my ears before. Three, four, five muzzle flashes. Cobalt blood like rain splatters across the ground, Tertus falls forward as though he has been pushed.
My training spurs me to action. I’ve never actually taken a life before, but these men hurt my Tertus. I run towards them, using my very unimpressive biotic talent to generate a barrier. Dodge to the right, jump onto the railing of the bridge, leap from the rail, use the momentum to snap the neck of the turian closest to me. Maintain my momentum, stay in fluid motion. There's a gun in my hand and the second turian falls with the sound of automatic gunfire filling my ears. It's too fucking loud.
Something burns in my leg and my stomach, but I can’t stop moving. If the krogan gets his hands on me, I'll die. I leap onto his back, I nearly drop the assault rifle, it’s too big for me. I launch myself from his crest plate and fire down into his neck while I’m still in the air. It's sloppy, it's messy, it's too fucking loud. He’s still coming, and I just keep firing. It's over. I'm covered in blood, indigo, cadmium orange, and my own emerald. A cruel painting in brilliant organic color. I run to Tertus.
He's already dead. Honey eyes glassy. Jaw lax, mandibles hang limp next to his dear, sweet face. I scream, everything hits me all at once. The fear, the anger, the heartbreak. But I have no time, I hear more boots on the ground, and I am surrounded by bodies and covered in blood.
I don't hesitate. I leap into the river and follow the current to somewhere new.
Please, don't apologize. Everyone on this station has a tragic backstory. I bet you have one that's a real doozy. The river flows out to the sea, and so too I've learned that you have to keep living. You humans have a saying, "Go with the flow." It fits very nicely with my personal philosophy. Which is why I have to insist that you keep your pants on and stay calm, our time will come. If you try to take your chance too soon, it fucks things up. Swim with the current, not against it, friend. You'll just make yourself tired fighting the undertow, and then you'll sink to the bottom.
We wouldn't want that, now would we?
Star System Hopping Woman of Mystery Thief
If you have to ask how or why I ended up on Omega, I'd have to ask you if you've been listening at all. True, I don't live here full time. I'm sort of a star system hopping woman of mystery. But I do end up on Omega very often. You'd be surprised how many art sellers and antique collectors are just straight up criminals. Or maybe you wouldn't be. You are in the same basement holding cell as I am, after all. Or did you come here for something other than stealing priceless relics from a murderer?
Please don't tell me you came here to steal his weapons! How uninspired.
Anyways, of course I mourned Tertus. But I was scared, possibly wanted for the murder of three people, maybe four if you account for the possibility that it would have been very easy for the local police force to pin the whole disaster on me. I was naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. So I did what every young, unfortunate fool who gets tangled up in big time criminal activity and is too stubborn to ask dad for help does: I caught the first transport to Omega I could get. (I snuck aboard some mercenary gang’s smuggling vessel. I fit into crates quite nicely, don’t you know?)
Here's what I learned my first week on Omega:
No one gives a shit about you. They don’t care who you are, who you were, or what you did. Minding your own business is a matter of survival here.
The pickpockets here don’t even try to hide what they’re doing. They just run real fast when they get caught. I always catch them.
The bartenders here have never heard of a Rough Tide. At any of the bars and clubs.
There are a lot of assholes here who think they’re hiding the fact that they have goods that are worth something.
Hallex is a great time if taken in moderation and while dancing with bright lights and pretty girls.
Oh, don’t give me that look. Go back to lesson number one and mind your own fucking business. I was dealing with the traumatic death of my boyfriend, and the guilt of killing people. Besides, you learn to have a more relaxed view of party drugs when your own skin secretes a toxin that makes people see sounds and hear colors. I’m a walking party drug. What? No, you can’t try! What, am I supposed to let a stranger suck on my fingers or lick my face just because they’re curious? I don’t know you well enough for that. There’s a two drink minimum for that kind of talk.
Besides, you’ll need a clear head to get out of here. Or did you forget that we’re in a warlord’s torture cave?
It didn’t take very long for me to grow bored of partying my feelings away, and even less time for me to start planning a heist. Eh, less of a heist, and more like I broke into some rich pirate king’s hideout and stole anything I could carry that was worth something. I also hacked his terminals and wiped all of his accounts and infected everything with a computer in the building with a virus. His operations came to a screeching halt, and I gleefully lined my pockets with his ill-gotten gains.
Oh, you thought I was one of those do-gooder thieves who robs the rich to feed the poor or whatever? You’re too funny! I have rules against stealing from poor folk, and I don’t use street kids and beggars in any of my schemes like some others of my ilk. But I’m in this business for myself.
Breaking into low security hideouts and penthouse suites when no one was home lost its luster very quickly. I’ve always loved a challenge, and I’m prone to acting unwisely when I’m bored. I started traveling again, I’ve hit museums, government archives, art galleries, even corporate research facilities. Sometimes, someone pays me (I come pricey) to steal something for them, but mostly I hear about something I really want to touch (or fence, whatever,) and I go and take it. If my marks don’t want me to steal it, they should secure it better.
Oh, you’ll love this. Once, I received word that a relic of one Earth’s ancient royalty was going to be up for auction at some high society party in Paris, yes that Paris. Collectors have been shuffling around Marie Antoinette's pearl and diamond pendant for literal centuries. It was one of those “benefits” that the rich and famous throw that never actually benefits anyone but their own image. Stealing it was surprisingly easy. I stole it before the display case ever made it to the auction floor, but they didn’t even notice it was gone until they unveiled it to start the bidding. It was my first, and only, taste of champagne.
A waiter wearing a tuxedo hands me a fluted glass filled with golden, bubbling liquid. I taste it, and I’m very unimpressed. It’s very bitter for something that looks so tempting. A warm chuckle takes me by surprise, and I turn to see a handsome young man, dark curly hair, very dark skin and wide brown eyes, who is watching me. “Not a fan of the beverage offerings, I take it?” he asks jovially.
“No, I’m afraid not. The drinks on the homeworld are much sweeter,” I respond. There’s a slim-to-none chance that a random human on Earth would know anything about Kahje, and an exactly zero chance that he would know about Rakhana at all. I could tell him literally anything about my “homeworld” (one which I had not been to since I was ten, the other a place that was more cautionary tale and myth than homeworld), and he would have to believe me. I set the glass on a nearby table.
"Are you here for the auction? There aren't very many aliens here." He nods his head back toward to crowd starting to form on the bidding floor. He's right, there are a few asari here and one salarian, bright yellow skin with emerald speckles on his horns and the backs of his hands. I know my time is coming soon. The man smiles, teeth shining pearls, his left incisor is too high on his gum, giving it the appearance of an animal's fang. I like it. It's a shame I'll be leaving soon. I never learn his name.
"I am as a matter of fact, here on behalf of a hanar friend. He has an interest in antiques from other cultures, but sadly, could not make the trip himse-" My lie is cut off by first worried tittering up at the stage and the chaos and panic erupts as they open the secure vault container and find it empty.
The man looks around frantically, trying to piece together what is happening until his eyes fall on me again. More specifically, to the necklace hanging framed by the daring neckline of my suit jacket. A single tear-shaped pearl hanging beneath diamonds arranged in a ribbon’s bow, and above that one large round diamond, all hanging from a cheap silver chain I nicked from a department store jewelry counter earlier that day.
I press my finger to my lips and whisper, "Watch this." I take off running for the open balconies, pushing party goers out of my way, one, two, three strides before I am standing on the balcony rail, the small barrier to a long drop and a messy death. I rip the pendant free of the necklace and place it in a secured pocket sewn inside of my suit and step off the balcony.
With a twist my body I am hurtling towards the ground in a dive. A press of a small button on my bracelet as I spread my arms, my daring fashion choice turns from a strange, webbed cape sewn into the arms and body of my jacket, into semi-rigid wings. Soaring between skyscrapers is one of the most freeing experiences I have ever had.
It took a little doing, but I managed to sneak off Earth the next day. I still have the pendant. I wear it to parties sometimes. What do you mean, why do I wear it? It's jewelry, isn't it? I don't have an art gallery, friend. I don't typically keep things in glass cases. But don't get it twisted, even if you found out where I keep my things and occasionally live, you wouldn't be able to get in. That pearl stays mine.
Oh! That's our cue. That sound that just rocked the very foundation of this building is how I'm getting out of here. If you would be so kind as to press down on the bench over there with your boot while I - uh - change positions here to - uh - get better leverage with a good kick. There's a cotter pin in there I can use to break the lock.
Alright, on three be ready so you don't eat it when the bench collapses. One, two, three!
Beautiful! Now while the guards are all going to check out the giant hole in the wall- why did I plant bombs? Rule number one of thieving, always have a plan for if you get caught. I wouldn't have been caught if it weren't for some clown getting caught with their grabby little hands in Epirian's weapons cache just as I was heading to my original escape route. Funny that. But it’s no sweat off my back (mostly because I don’t sweat) but also because I always have a secondary escape plan.
Though they aren’t usually quite so … explosive.
But all is not lost. These idiots couldn't do a successful pat down on me even if I was naked as sin. There's an OSD in a hidden pocket with clones of all of Sitis' terminals and datapads.
What? Oh, you thought I was here for the art or his antiques? Ha! I guess I did allude to the art quite often. No. Dear old dad needed a hand. Family business, and all that. Do you know how many creds those corporate bigwigs at companies like say ... Armax Arsenal will pay to keep proof that they've been dealing super advanced weaponry to pirate king arms dealers an ugly little secret?
So much it would make your head spin. Let's say that good ol' Sitis deals with a few of these bigwigs. Papa dearest collects the blackmail money from those nasty weapons manufacturers, and dear, sweet Inonsi helps collapse Epirian's little criminal empire. For purely selfish reasons, of course. (Dear, sweet Inonsi also makes a fat stack of creds in the process.)
Now, stop interrupting. This is a Saronis Applications Securitron-X78 model haptic interface lock. A baby could open this with the right tools, but I do still need to focus. Just insert the pin into this little gap here, use it as a conduit for a little biotic pulse like such and bingo! We're almost home free, my friend.
If you’re going to stick with me to get out of here, you’ll need to do what I say, when I say it. We go with the flow, take our opportunities as they come to us, not a moment before, not a moment after. If we play our cards right, we’ll slip out unnoticed. And hey, if you impress me on our way out, maybe you’ll get the pleasure of being another one of my best bad decisions. What do you say?
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Does he need the money though? This is a huge hit to his reputation. Maybe the simplest explanation is love
No, the simplest explanation is: business.
This is not about his money, or her money. This is about the business' money. When you get down to simple brass tacks, people inside the Hollywood entertainment machine are cogs in an epic wheel. The business does not see them as people, or individuals, it sees them as pieces to be used and moved about in a way that will reap the most dividends. He's been in this machine for 22 years, being cultivated and groomed as a certain commodity for the dividends his commodity brings. She's more new to the machine, but it's starting to figure out what commodity it wishes to make out of her.
Now, remember, the business has money tied up in both of them right now. And the business wants to see its ROI. Do you think his team just randomly decided to get SMA this year? No. It's part of a longer narrative of helping the business get its ROI. I fully believe that narrative includes forward thinking about rebranding him for Ghosted, which requires the more romantic partner look, while also still retaining some of those tried and true "internet boyfriend" PR points for Red One branding, which is going to be a family film. So, the business sees a two-birds, one-stone solution: take a situationship, tweak the narrative for mass consumption, and trot it out to the public in advance. Even if they've called it off before his projects release, then they still have what looks like a lovey-dovey storyline to write into the articles next year. It helps them fend off the image of a 41 y.o. bachelor that people might side-eye, especially if some of his less savory escapades from the past two years start getting out more widely.
This is not crisis management PR we're seeing. This is pre-planned, pre-arranged narrative plotting. We know that SMA selections are made in the summer before they happen, thanks to Michael B. Jordan being frank in interviews, so we can start looking at when wheels would have started spinning about the run-up to his announcement. So, start thinking, start pinpointing when things started looking less organic, more inauthentic. (Note: yes, I do believe they fucking, I just don't believe the veneer being given the depth of the relationship. Perhaps if he had never burned that final bridge with Minka, we'd be seeing her yet again this year, lol.)
So, yes, is he taking a hit right now? Sure. But let's also remember that our view of what's happening to him is incredibly myopic because we sit within this niche fandom fishbowl. The business has a grander view that sees all the avenues of branding and sale that we're not looking at.
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Hi ya, could we discuss leah/ Alice ?
for sure!
tbh i don't see Leah/Alice happening ever.
if we're following canon's "rules of the road," baseline, they are mortal enemies who instinctively find each other unappealing down to the scent. imagine dating someone who smells like a dumpster. yike
they're also both coming to the table with baggage against the other's species. Alice, who loves to be in control & whose gift is an integral part of who she is, would go absolutely bonkers not being able to see Leah. not only that, but anywhere Leah was, & anyone she interacted with — be it the Cullens, the pack, or her enemies — would be blocked from Alice's sight. that aside, Alice does not consider the wolves her equals, calling them awful, dehumanizing slurs like "dog" and "mutt". double yikes
Leah is coming at this relationship with even more baggage. her father was indirectly killed by vampires. her humanity was stripped from her by vampires. she's had to give everything to protect Local Vampire Fucker Bella Swan, of all people, from vampires. Leah has a lot of bitterness & mistrust towards vamps that is not resolved by the end of BD. i see her having an especially difficult time trusting Little Miss Future-Manipulator Alice Cullen.
but this mistrust extends far beyond Alice's species. it's important to remember that in Leah's prior relationship, Sam Uley dumped her due to a cosmic connection & ran off with her best friend/second cousin (yikes x3). so, look at this from Leah's perspective. she knows Alice has a mate. no matter how deep their love may be, Alice's #1 will always be Local Confederate Bootlicker Jasper Hale. likewise, Leah is at the mercy of her species. she knows she may someday meet her imprint, & at that point, all bets are off. canon says her imprint will never be Alice anyway; imprinting is all about picking the most breedable person to pass on the wolf gene (yikes x10000). tbh, we don't even know if Leah can imprint since she apparently cannot reproduce. (ran out of yikes; straight white-knuckling my utter displeasure)
brass tacks, Leah does not seem like the kind of girl who would get into a relationship with an expiration date. & Alice does not seem like the kind of girl who would get into a relationship without knowing the outcome. to make Leah/Alice work requires fundamental adjustments to canon. as it stands, bestie, they enemies for life fr
#happy to discuss what adjustments would need to be made to canon but this post is long enough as it is#alice cullen#leah clearwater#twilight#twilight renaissance#twilight saga
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Lambchop has peaked my curiosity about buhunds, and I’m curious to learn more about them, so would be ok if you describe what’s it like to own one? Like what’s their character, if they’re affectionate, etc. Are they a bit more biddable and affectionate than other spritzed? I think you did mention once that lambchop is not completely to standard character wise, so how does she differ?
Sure I'll try!
I actually would say Lambchop is on standard for temperament for 95% of stuff but she's also turned up to 11. And she shows some unfortunate overarousal which spirals into dog aggression which SHOULDN'T be common in the breed but the more people I talk to the more it seems to be getting more common :/ it can be hard in a rare breed where people are very tight lipped about drawbacks and also most of the prominent breeders keep their dogs in show kennels so they don't have much data on how the dogs do in home/pet environments. The breed culture in the US also is quite old school in that puppies tend not to be raised with much thoughtful Socialization protocols or placed in homes on fit... dogs that go to "pet homes" tend to just be the dogs that the breeder thinks won't succeed well enough in the show ring or in performance. Not all the breeders are like this but... I know of maaaaybe 2 that place on temperament and what the puppy owner is looking for? That's MUCH more common in the icie community, weirdly, to the point where i very often recommend icies to people who like Lambchop, just bc the breeders in that community tend to actually live with their dogs and have more temperament data 🤣 and they're VERY very similar breeds.
They're very intense and VERY affections with people. Chop has never met a stranger and absolutely adores meeting new people and loving on the people she knows. They're very energetic and need lots of outdoor enrichment. And lots of... hmm. The trainer I'm working with talks about opportunities to make choices -- autonomy. Really smart dogs can develop behavior issues when they have very few opportunities to exercise autonomy in their lives so I am trying to set up ways to give her more of that like installing a dog door so she can decide when to be outside and when to be inside, that kind of thing
Herding spitz are crazy trainable. Lambchop adores tricks and engagement. Your mileage may vary with this one because I do know some people who have individual dogs that are "hard to motivate" but overall they LOVE to work with you and solve puzzles.
Reactivity is an issue in the breed moreso than a lot of other spitz. More herdy dog stuff imo. Icies are like that also. Almost every one will go thru a phase of it in adolescence at least. Another related breed that struggles with reactivity less is the norrbottenspetts, but they're also less biddable! So it's sorta a trade off lol
I will say if I wasn't disabled Lambchop would be a dream dog for me. Like if I had the brain space and energy to really get down to brass tacks and get her out for hikes 3 times a week? And if I had been properly prepared on what to expect in terms of intensity, energy level, and some of the common breed pitfalls regarding arousal issues? But unfortunately I wasn't and so we both kinda went in blind and it's been a struggle. She's been on her meds almost a week now and they're helping a LOT. we will get through it but it's been rough.
I think the Nordic herding spitz are perfect for a lot of people but its hard bc you have to find a breeder and community who will be honest and supportive of newcomers. The Icelandic sheepdog community has a lot more of that culture from what I have seen. But I can certainly recommend people to contact about buhunds to talk to more about the breed also; a good friend of mine is on the breed club board and has been in the breed like 20 years so she knows a lot. And I know several great icie breeders!
SO YEAH idk I really love herdy spitz but they can be a challenge and also you gotta find the right people which i guess is true of a lot of breeds hah. I hope this helps some! Here's a pic of Chop doing a doge meme impression for you
#red cedar is my icie and norrbottenspetts breeder of choice tbh JUST bc the breeder is really amazingly supportive and open#if i ever get another herdy spitz it would be from her#lambchop the dog
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So... *rubs my grubby little hands together*
Who's been Vecna's spy in Hawkins all along?
No, it's not Will. We know what happens to him when Vecna is actively using him and it's too hard to ignore.
We also know from seeing Billy being flayed that Vecna is very clever to not go too far off the beaten track when it comes to how his hosts will act. Billy's hair got a bit neater, his clothes got a bit tidier, but otherwise he was just the same dude.
It's safe to assume that any change in the OG party members would have been spotted almost immediately by El. So Lucas and Dustin are, in my mind, out of the running. Lucas went looking for Will by himself in s1 after he fought with the others and was obviously invested in getting his friend back. Dustin, by his own observation, would have set off all the magnets and compasses that he carries around. Erica is out too, because of her willingness to get hands on is s3 & s4 to foil plans. Max isn't an option either because aside from the obvious reason of Vecna trying to kill her, she was too close to Billy. This is another way we can discount most of the main party; she would notice just as soon as El would.
I also personally believe the main grown ups of Hopper, Joyce, and Murray to be out of the running here too. Joyce very much fucked with Vecna's plans in s1 by refusing to believe any of the lies she was fed about Will and Hopper has had no real character changes through the seasons to warrant suspicion. Murray is just that little bit far enough outside of the main Hawkins orbit for Vecna to think of him as an option, and doesn't have enough allies in the town early on for him to be considered useful enough. Nancy and Jonathon I'm also discounting because of Jon's proximity to Will, and Nancy's willingness to shoot at anything larger than a golden retriever.
So now. Let's get down to brass tacks. Who is the spy?
Mike is an obvious option for a couple of reasons. When Will was still possessed, Mike was the one that broke him out of it and it was Will's encouragement that helped Mike talk El through her fight with Vecna. Is seeing and hearing each other so loudly through the fog more of a psychic bond than a spiritual one? As much as I am a Byler truther at heart, something tells me that Blue Meets Yellow In The West might be a Mike Vs Will showdown, and not a joining of forces. Mike has also had some significant changes happen. El noticed straight away when he started signing things 'From Mike' instead of 'Love Mike'. He stopped calling Will when they moved to California. He didn't rush to El's side when the other girl's were bullying her, he just looked around, bemused. Not only is this wildly removed from the person we got to know in s1 and s2, but it's so different to someone that his best friend describes as 'The Heart' of them all. Will felt something off about Mike too, when he got to California. Was that sense of Vecna being around just his presence in the Upside Down, or his psychic link to Mike?
Second up, we have Robin. Robin appeared with very little backstory and even Rebel Robin leaves a lot of guesswork and blank spaces. She just happens to speak Russian? As well as how many other languages? Interesting. Did Vecna think that his spy should be able to communicate with the people who were aware of his monsters? Robin also sustained very little damage in the Russian tunnels. She was held captive just like Steve but came out basically untouched. Was this the enemy recognising an ally? Or was it Vecna protecting his asset?
And Robin, of course, leads us to Steve. Oh Steve, beautiful Steve. Let's talk about Steve. Let's talk about Steve, who we know nothing about, who's family we have never met, who went through the biggest arc of all by inserting himself right in with the main group and earning their trust. Let's talk about the jock who can't win a fight until he's up against a literal soldier because maybe he knows how this solider was trained. Let's talk about all-of-a-sudden-has-blonde-highlights-wears-cherry-lipgloss-forgot-how-to-get-a-girlfriend-but-knows-how-to-connect-with-smaller-kids Steve. Let's talk about Steve who throws parties in his big house and invites everyone so he can see them all at the same time and make sure everyone knows who he is.
And isn't it just wild that our boy Steve got tortured so bad by those Russians but it was all superficial damage? No broken bones, no broken nose, hell, he doesn't even have a scar. What a coincidence that they mixed up the truth serum too, huh?
Do his parents really not come home of their own accord? Or do they just get this feeling that maybe they should extend their trip? Steve saw Billy up close and didn't even try to hold on to his King crown. Vecna saw Billy up close and felt bolder, so he let himself slip more into Steve's aesthetic. He added the hair, the lipgloss, lost the swagger, because he'd found Billy and he thought he was so close to winning. He got lazy.
Steve watches everyone closely. Steve knows everyone will tell him their secrets. Steve knows how to rip a demobat apart despite never seeing one before and knowing nothing about their weakspots, or that their blood isn't poisonous if it gets into his mouth.
Steve has been Vecna's spy all along. And in s5, Steve will sacrifice himself for his friends. Eddie was never Kas. It's always been Steve.
#steve stranger things#kas theory#stranger things#steve harrington#vecna#vecna's curse#robin buckey#mike wheeler#eleven#will byers#long post#stranger things theory#seth writes
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Episode 12 : Soft, Sappy Serotonin
My Communication Princes (Bee and Prince) with the time honored tradition of throwing shade at the Thai government. Also, bless these horny little upstarts, the world is not ready for the saccharine these two have brewing.
Honorable mention to the manager who apparently understands what side his bread is buttered on. Better get with the program while the getting is good.
On to our Gaymers, sweet stupid babies. Win, forever the emotional janitor for his family, pulling the old faithful "admit your feelings when they aren't around but sike, they are on speaker phone."
Modern bullshit requires middle child bullshit solutions.
Cause we both know that Waan was just too prideful to admit he said some shit in anger, pushed away his boo and ran to the beach.
The drama. 🤌🏾✨️
But like the precious little chaos gremlin that he is, Tul was ready and willing to fight for his man. And whew, chile. They wasted zero time getting down to brass tacks at warp speed.
And Wiew, my precious little fiesty tink tink who can do no wrong, is so adorably wholesome. It's just too much. May the universe never consider touching him because I will throw hands.
We got Dean and Pharm on the beach, which is giving me UWMA war flashbacks and I was so emotional for such a ridiculously short scene.
And the call back to marriage in the US with Pharm's mom is just....
I really hope Pruek eats his Wheaties and prepares himself because Manow is so extra 24/7, 365, and she is gonna be the life and death of him in the best possible way.
I'm glad that she is finally getting some acting gigs and now we can see yet another round of Supportive BF staring the most underrated king.
And piece de resistance, the softest sassy boys, the Consent Kings.
Oh Team, oh baby. Let it out. You poor thing. So much therapy. But look at you verbalizing your pain instead of burying it.
Also, I've said it once and I will say it again:
YOU DO NOT SAY SHIT LIKE THAT TO A CHILD (in general but also) THAT LITERALLY JUST ALMOST DIED & WATCHED THEIR COUSIN DROWN!
Win, being Win, giving no fucks and all the love. So soft for Team and its giving me very normal reactions. The carry had me cackling especially when I think of all the times it happened in fan meetings, events, and variety shows. Ya boy was ready.
And don't think we didn't see that pampas grass arch and beach wedding set up. We see y'all.
And we both know that if Thailand allowed it, Win would have married Team on the spot and worried about telling the family later.
And OMG, the announcement bait and switch.
It's such a Team thing. The King of the Himbos.
The ending was iconic and perfect in the way that only Between Us could justify delivering as the ending.
#dandy demi rambles#between us#thai bl#bl drama#asianlgbtqdramas#win x team#bee x prince#waan x tul#manow x pruek#dean said we are not the same#dean x pharm#win has zero chill and i love that for him#team is gonna be the death of me#but bless wiew#waan really said enough talking#reblogging because i said what i said
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getting down to brass tacks: #5 (moral compass) and #12 (despair) for grandpa?
Thank you for the asks! 🔨
Questions here
#5 What’s their moral compass like?
True neutral. V’s not outwardly law-abiding, but she prefers to stay out of trouble if she can avoid it and she tends to make decisions based on how they suit the situation and advance her aims. Having lived in NC her whole life, she’s well aware of the corruption that permeates every aspect of life and she’ll fight dirty if she needs. She’ll leverage whatever’s in reach to her advantage. Though not out to actively right all the world’s wrongs, she can be incredibly vindictive if you catch her at the wrong time or if she thinks you’ve done something particularly heinous. She does have a bit of soft spot for people in need, especially women and kids, so a lot of times her bleeding heart will say yes when her brain is screaming no.
#12 How easy is it for them to get lost in despair?
Grandpa’s been lost in it for a while, she’s just gotten so used to what it feels like though that she struggles to see herself being happy long-term. She expects things to get ripped away from her, particularly the people she cares about. Her approach to life can be pretty despondent at times, but she’s also got killer survival instincts that refuse to let her drown. It’s why she gets back up and keeps fighting. As a wise asshole used to remind her: “Don’t just stand there, gonk. Move.”
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So I had a weird thought.
The other day, I read something that made use of the idea that while Jack is all powerful, he doesn’t necessarily know how to use his powers correctly. Which is always an idea that I love working with, because it hits that balance of being really silly while also building off the canon. Which is that by the series' end, the powers of God have been absorbed by a toddler masquerading as a young adult. And frankly, not doing a great job with the masquerading. Team Free Will did what they could. . .mainly, Castiel and Sam. . .but there are holes in Jack’s education that leave a lot to be desired.
Which as a midam fan, suits me just fine, because I can work with this to find a reason for Michael to be brought back from the Empty. Jack might have the ability to run Heaven and oversee existence itself, but he needs someone to show him how. By the end of the season 15, we don’t really have a lot of candidates to serve as his teachers. Castiel’s never run Heaven. He fought a whole war to get the right to, but then bailed when his strategy worked a little too well. Amara might be there inside Jack’s head, but she’s never run Heaven either. She’s been locked away since before Heaven was made, and spent the time since presumably playing roulette. Dean’s an option---in that he’s in Heaven, and has a history of not caring if he’s qualified for responsibility---but we all saw how he cracked when he had to take on Death’s mantle for a day. (I can just see him standing up and telling everyone that he’ll teach Jack how to be God, and then a future version of Castiel blips into the room to awkwardly to tell Dean that no, he will not.)
Then there is Dumah, the last angel seen running things before the rapture, but assuming she’s still around, we kind of don’t know how well she was handling it? She always seemed tired and reluctant the role, like she was barely holding things together. She might not be capable or want to serve as Jack’s teacher---and it’s also questionable as to whether she can even be trusted again after the whole “let’s create new angels by disfiguring a bunch of humans who don’t seem to fully understand what they’re agreeing to” thing.
Bringing back Michael, the only one with a solid history of consistently keeping the world turning, might not be the worst idea, especially if they make him human. Jack whips up a body for Michael, and Sam goes over some ground rules with Adam, who has obviously been pushing for this since the moment he managed to hitchhike his way back to the bunker, and everything’s a go. It’s all very familiar set up for a midam story.
And as I was going over this familiar set up, it occurred to me that here in the midam community, we like to assign Michael certain traits. Some of which are just for fun, many that are based on things we observe in the series and just sort of exaggerate as we flesh out his personality. And among those traits are a few holes in Michael’s education as well, particularly when it comes to the brass tacks of human life. Michael had always been preoccupied with the bigger picture while overseeing humanity, and never actually spent much time on earth. And much like how Castiel, who we are led to believe spent quite a bit of time observing humanity more closely than Michael, was still taken aback by the experience of becoming a human, we also expect Michael to be somewhat startled by the day to day experiences he comes across in his new life.
He could be constantly shocked by how easily he sunburns, or how quickly people get tired, the fact that they can’t see in the dark, and how easily they’re afflicted by colds, heartburns, backaches, indigestion, allergies---so many things! It’s so easy to imagine Michael bumping into these random mundane ailments that he had never thought of before, and telling Adam that Jack must have made some kind of mistake making his human body, only for Adam roll his eyes and sit Michael down to explain all of this is perfectly normal for humans, and that they will not be calling down their God-powered nephew to fix them.
But see. . . in the season 14 episode, “Optimism,” we see Jack frantically ask Dean to explain sex to him, and get shot down. Which leaves the question of whether anyone ever bothered to explain the birds and bees to this poor boy before he made his first ever human body. And what if. . .he actually did get a few things mixed up?
And what if that indigestion wasn’t indigestion? And those heartburns and those backaches were actually early symptoms of something else that Adam wouldn’t pick up on for awhile, even if Michael, say, started putting on a little weight within the first month or so of coming back? After all, Michael’s experiencing food for the first time! Maybe he’s just binging a bit when Adam’s not around. And even after Michael’s stomach started to take on a specific shape, it still took a little while, because it would crazy to think---
Why yes, this is midam baby post.
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@heart-will-not-surrender said: [ META ] - Noah + fear (round 2! :D )
Meta Meme // Accepting!
Surprisingly enough, Noah's pretty fearless all things considered but it's only when her life is on the line when she actually starts getting scared.
If we really wanted to get down to brass tacks- she's terrified of Yhwach but she's brave enough to voice her opinions when she feels the wandenreich ruler is in the wrong. His presence suffocates her, makes her feel unable to breathe, making her lose her voice for moments on end until she can muster it back up again.
Noah's also absolutely petrified of the concept of death, the thought of feeling absolutely nothing when she feels every heartbeat, every soul- every single one that gets snuffed out scares her because to her it means NOTHING was ever there to begin with... the concept of that is something that scares her despite putting herself in the line of death time and time again to make sure she does her job.
Her own death doesn't scare her, but when others go through it, then she starts to fear for her life.
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Dragging Frankenstein - Chapter 17
Finally, the De Lacey exposition is done with, and we're down to brass tacks. Let's greet our next plot point, the Distressing Damsel! Or at least the hypothesis of her.
“with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being” – what a convoluted way to describe The Horny™. And yes, that is exactly what he’s after. For all he talks about human company and whatnots, there’s no way to read this without a sexual connotation.
“one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me” – worse yet, it is about sexual entitlement. The Creature is a fucking incel, his argument being “if she’s ugly as well, she has to put up with me.” I can’t begin to count the ways in which I hate him. Oh, wait, I already have.
“but you shall never make me base in my own eyes” – pfffft. Victor? You’re still not base in your own eyes? Alright then. DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR: 13
“instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you” -.- just like his dad, the Creature wants a price for basic decency. “Hey, I’m not threatening to kill you rn! Cookie pls!”
“the human senses are insurmountable barriers for our union” – huh, this reads like DAS GAY: 24
And seeing as it’s still Victor he’s talking to, it also gets INCEST VIBES: 11
(And if you think this point is invalid, consider that he asks the man he calls his father to make him a bride, in the same way he was made – that would be his sister.)
“What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification is small, but it is all I can receive, and it shall content me.” So, not only would he curse another to the same wretched life he lives, he also has the nerve to preemptively look down on her for not being as beautiful as human women. Can he get any worse of an incel?
LOL, of course there are no people in South America. None.
How would the two of them even cross the ocean?
“How inconstant are your feelings!” LMAO. The Creature of all people complaining about this…
Interesting how he has gone from craving sympathy simply as normal human interaction to being owed sympathy in form of The Horny™. And by interesting, I mean fuck this.
“quit Europe forever” = “depart from the company of men” Because only Europeans are actual people. *nods* Sounds about right.
“by the fire of love that burns my heart” – what, you mean the constant assumption of purely transactional relationships, the blackmailing, the entitlement? That is love now? Or is it The Horny™ and you looking forward to the relief of it?
“And also, I’mma stalk you while you work on this.” Heh, there’s a habit formed.
Pretty pretty landscapes to give a background to Victor’s self-pity. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 16
If you want out of the deal, just kill yourself already. Yeesh.
And then he, once again, can’t be arsed to talk to his family about shit. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 17
At least reassure them that you didn’t get robbed and raped in the mountains??
“Yet even thus I loved them to adoration” but not enough to tell them wtf is going on, of course.
Wondering if anyone ever set up a psychological profile of Victor Frankenstein. Like, ADHD, narcissist personality disorder, and so on. Therapy whomst? Dunno her.
Honestly? I don't think the Creature's reasons for wanting to make the Distressing Damsel are one iota better than Victor's reasons for creating him. Yeah, the queer interpretation of Victor making him as a sexual partner is half-joking on my part since I cannot fully verify it on the text, but the point stands: The Creature values his desire for company and actually someone he holds power over more than the well-being of this hypothetical new creature, cursing her into existence when his own life of the same sort is fucking miserable.
That isn't better or more sympathetic than Victor creating him for the sake of his own glory - or to have someone he holds power over, because he was thrilled by the thought of someone being subservient to him due to owing their existence to him, just as the Creature is thrilled by the thought of a helpless, confused and incredibly miserable woman being at his beck and call. If the point of Frankenstein is that the Creature is a tragic character I'm supposed to feel for - too bad; I hate this guy. He's exactly the same kind of asshole that Victor is.
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Guns we never got to use in Metal Gear Solid 2
So, instead of gushing over how amazing MGS2 is, let's get down to brass tacks and immediately nerd out over what we didn't get.
First off, let's start at the beginning. Olga Gurlukovich, the woman who's the sole reason I start making monkey noises when I see a woman in super baggy pants with suspenders hanging down. She carries a PSS pistol;
The PSS is a silent semi-automatic pistol, this pistol gets tossed overboard before the player can get a chance to use it. If in use by the Gurlukovich mercenaries, we could imagine it would be a pistol with very scarce ammo, but also highly effective, being semi-auto. Probably considered a lethal option to the XM9.
Next up, we have the NRS2.
No good in-game picture available, so a picture of the real thing will do;
This highly unusual knife gun, which is fired with the blade pointed towards yourself. For gameplay, this could probably be used for focus on close quarters fighting, but with a possibility of shooting at something in the distance without needing to swap weapons. It would certainly be an interesting option that could make gameplay varied.
Next up, the Colt Single Action Army revolver.
"This is the greatest handgun ever made. The Colt Single Action Army. Six bullets. More than enough to kill anything that moves."
It's clear that MGS3 figured out, holy shit, this gun is cool and we need to let the player use it. Especially, with how they added gameplay features to it, they decided to give the gun the ability to ricochet bullets so you can trickshot your way through Tselinogorsk. The same mindset in MGS2 could have made for some really interesting choices considering all the fancy indoor areas and hallways. There's also no proper magnum handgun for the player in MGS2, so if you want a handgun that can blast away common enemies in a single shot to the chest, this could have been it.
Sergei Gurlukovich himself pulls a Makarov on Scott Dolph during the tanker chapter. This would been a basic sidearm for the mercenaries and is understandably cut, it's a gun that it's difficult to make exciting for the player as it would performed the same as the USP, but lower capacity and no laser and no silencer. Then again, it could have been added purely for variety's sake. Which is always good to make something feel vast and a real universe.
"Laugh and grow fat"
This one would be interesting in-game for the player. Provided it would be somewhat controllable for skilled players, and sharing ammo with the USP, it could be a hog for churning through your ammo and low range, but if used up closed, you could definitely do some solid bursts of damage. What magazine the gun would have, would definitely help decide if you could bursts a few enemies before reloading, or needing to reloading between every enemy.
This is another special one. It's already very special that a russian mercenary group would use a western shotgun such as the SPAS-12. It also features a combination pump and semi-automatic mechanism. This could in theory allow the player to change the firerate. Who knows for what purpose, there could be some video game logic like how they can only use the really powerful ammunition with a pump-action, and have the less damaging ammo be spammable with the semi-automatic mechanism. Or, they could skip that and make the shotgun be only pump or only semi, and then focus on how it works in that way. It definitely opens up a world of weird gameplay options.
Here's a weird one, a rail gun. MGS2 is a stealth game. I realize that, and I really like it. But it really suffers in the department of being able to do things at a distance outside of set pieces set up for sniping. It would definitely be a New Game Plus type of gun, maybe given out for playing through the game while helping or tranq'ing birds, not killing them. It would definitely be a great gun for taking out bosses. It was later implemented in Peace Walker, but required quite the team effort to use it efficiently. Clearly, the developers also loved this magnificent piece of art and weaponry in game.
Here's another fun one. Assuming it would be a counter to the M4 later available in-game, the AN94, could possibly given the hyper-burst option, making it fire two rounds per trigger press in an insane fire rate. Looking at how the gun has a light or laser mounted onto it's front gas port/gas block, it looks really close to be able to be used by the player already.
Here's a gun that is really known for being cut content. The French FAMAS. How it made it's way to the tanker or plant would be difficult to imagine considering it was supposed to be only for the genome soldiers in Alaska in MGS1. It would occupy the same purpose as the AKS74u and the M4 as well, so it wouldn't add anything new to the player, but it would feel familiar for returning MGS1 players. While not correct, the gun could have had a three round burst to differentiate it, like how it does in Counter-Strike 1.6 which is what I really know it from, form these days.
The FN P90. What a wonderful PDW. Again, another gun that's understandable that we don't have access to, as it wouldn't contribute much, but would also clutter an already weird to navigate inventory. It's equipped with the original old red dot sight, so in first person view, that would actually be very different for regular players of first person shooters with iron sights from these days.
Here's a really weird one, the SPP-1M Underwater pistol. Wait what? So in the original design of MGS2, there was an even greater focus on the underwater parts of the gameplay, even more fighting. Which explains why someone would suggest adding an pistol focused on underwater fighting. Probably also related to the cut Dead Cell member who went by the name "Chinaman" who was an olympic level swimmer, and if Vamp's boss fight wasn't annoying enough, I can totally see the need for a gun in that section. There is leftover code in the game that suggest this got quite far in development for player use, the gun itself as far as I know, don't have a model in-game.
And here for the last firearm that should/could have been available to the player. The M203 grenade launcher. It's very clearly shown off in several cutscenes, being used by both the Navy Seals when confronting Fortune, as well as Snake Plissken;
How this would be utilized in-game would be interesting. Could definitely be a very viable boss-encounter weapon with it's full-auto capability from the M4, and then being able to somehow quickly switch over to using the grenade launcher.
So in conclusion, many of this firearms were considered, but when we think about it, we can also clearly understand why much of it was cut, so there would be less work to do on bland equipment, so the developers could rather focus and shine up all the equipment that is actually interesting gameplay wise.
Most images blatantly stolen/copied from IMFDB.org, MetalGear.fandom.com and Wikipedia.
#mgs2#metal gear#metal gear solid 2#metal gear solid 2 sons of liberty#Glock 18C#Glock 18#Glock#Spas-12#Spas12#spas 12#P90#FN p90#PS90#5.7x28#9mm#12 gauge#Snake#Snake Plissken#Raiden#Jack Raiden#Saucy Jack
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Episode 1.4 Aliens of London
so no one cares but I started watching breaking bad today. I have never seen it so this is my first exposure. it's really damn good so far.
ANYWAYS I remember really liking this episode! Let's go!
Nine just cheesing when Rose is walking off to see her mum.
Also the music starts off so sentimental to just distort and waver down when the 'missing' poster is in shot
And the PANIK in Nines face when he sees the poster.
Also love the face when he says "not 12 hours, it's 12 months. Sorry.' like whoopsie!
BAD WOLF MENTIONED (Like BIG TIME ITS THERE ON THE TARDIS)
Jackie is such a mom. That is a compliment. She's written so believably, like yeah, my mom would go off on me like that too. Holy shit.
And poor Nine. He's just standing there. Soooo awkward. He really just can't do domestics.
The utter offense Rose and Nine get when the officer asks if what's between them is a sexual thing. Not yet dude, they're still figuring things out.
"How old are you then? 40? 45?" Nines face like nope, not even
"STITCH THIS MATE" we stan Jackie Tyler in this house.
Rose's face during this whole thing...she's been here before. Absolutely.
Any scene with Rose and Jackie hits me hard because it reminds me of me and my mom. I'm an only child, just like Rose. I'm my moms baby. At one point, it was just me and her. And honestly I could see my mom acting just like Jackie does in this situation.
"I don't do families." Sure, Jan.
Remember when I said Nine and Rose can't stay mad at each other? Stays true in this interaction. Rose goes from saying "You're so useless..." to Nine to laughing at his jokes.
"Your face!" "It hurts!" "You're so gay!" Just, them. Being them. I love them.
Of course the spaceship hits Big Ben. This is Doctor Who after all.
FANTASTIC
"I'm so glad we got you." 🙄
Another scene that puts Nine waaaaay out of his element. Back at the Tyler's flat with all their friends. He just looks so uncomfortable.
and where's he's wrestling the remote away from the little boy pffft
HARRIET JONES THERE SHE IS
Yes the fart jokes are terrible but I'm also a child and I think they're great and the fact that they actually give a reason for why it happens is pretty great and makes it even funnier
tbh I'd take fart jokes over awkwardly written innuendo any day
"It's just a bit human in there for me." He doesn't even sound disgusted when he speaks, more unnerved? Stressed? Aww.
And the utter JOY he has over the human race actually evolving and changing is wonderful! the fact that he doesn't want to interfere because he wants it to happen naturally!
"TARDIS key." more like "We're moving in together. My home is now your home." Everytime it happens, it's wonderful.
Rose looks all giddy with the key in her hand. 🥹
ELLO E.T
"DOCTAAAAAAAH-!" *CRASH!*
"Damn, you've seen through my cunning plan." The fucking delivery of this line xD
NINE SHUSHING THE SCREWDRIVER. it's such a small scene but I freaking love it
Then walking in on the soliders and smiling at their pointed guns. sirrrrrr
BUT THEN FOLLOW HIM WHEN HE SOUNDS LIKE HE KNOWS WHAT HES TALKING ABOUT
The genuine hurt when they shoot the pig alien. God I love nine. 🥺
"I'm shaking my BOOTY." It's so cheesy and stupid I love it
Seriously, The Slitheen are great. Goofy mother fuckers but when it comes down to brass tacks they are ruthless and terrifying. Those are the best kind of DW baddies.
Honestly, Mickey is justified in how he feels. Accused over and over of killing your girlfriend.
"He's not my boyfriend, Mickey! He's better than that. He's much more important." Yeah I'm completely normal about this line.
"Ricky"
"Think you know your own name, how stupid are you?" NINE CHILL
He's honestly such a twit to Mickey but it's too funny I'm sorry
God you can just see the cracks in Mickey and Rose's relationship. And they weren't caused by the Doctor. They were always there. :(
"I had a wife, mistress and a young farmer." "God I was busy." Jesus Christ.
eeeeyyyy it's UNIT.
"Take me to your leader!"
And then the car ride banter. And him waving at the press!! Sir I just love you so much
"Lloyd George used to drink me under the table." See this is funny because the Doctor really doesn't drink. At all. Each time they've tasted alcohol it makes them gag.
AND HOW INSISTENT HE IS THAT ROSE STAYS WITH HIM GAAAAAH
Look at Rose being all capable without the Doctor around! Looking around for alien technology with Harriet! She's so amazing I love her
"Excuse me, you mind not farting while I'm saving the world?" Iconic.
Maybe I'm immune to bad CG because this isn't even that terrible?
ngl though these costumes are pretty damn sweet.
Conclusion:
Yeah this episode is still a banger. still a big fan of the Slitheen. not my favorite alien in DW (that would probably be the Ood. I miss the Ood...)
I'll be watching WW3 tomorrow probably. Night!
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