#its in the fucking sprite but its so damn subtle
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Finished In Stars and Time last night and want to put down my thoughts bc that was nuts. Spoilers ahead v
Theres still much I havent seen, and ive only gotten one ending but man this game blew me away. Here are some things i loved about this game.
Timeloops are such a common plot device, a way to help the mc level up for the big bad, and the way they flipped that narrative on its head! The instant shift from "this is a gift to help me!" To "who did I think I was, how stupid," is so satisfying.
The music, at the end, terrified me. That first time Headmaiden broke down, and the music glitched and deteriorated, i realized oh. Oh fuck this is a kind of horror game isn't it. I wasnt wrong.
The changes in character art!!
The subtle things; the mirror never catches you by surprise again. Your battle sprite looks bored. You stop making silly noises at the birds.
That moment in act 3 where everything is finally going right, your companions love you and youve never felt more content, and Siffrin wins and gets to the end and they loop anyway. The way that the first time his party notices anything wrong is when he is completley and utterly heartbroken, the way they run to him. And he wakes up in the meadow, to allies that don't love him anymore. Who have no idea what hes going through. Who aren't grateful. And love didnt win the game so they go searching for answers and it makes sense but it makes everything worse.
You talk to King, and for a second you think everything might work out because stranger things have happened. And after a whole game of Bonnie being safe, Bonnie running away. Bonnie never being in any real danger. King picks them up and crushes them in front of you to 'teach you a lesson.' And the terror on Sifs face the next loop they reach the King startled me deeply, and reminded me that this game is a god damn masterpiece.
The way this game sets you up to stop caring about how you treat others, only to give you a real ending after what was essentially the WORST loop youve ever had?? Incredible. Siffrin doing everything he can to manipulate his way to the end, even if everyone hates him bc hes just so desperate. There's no point being nice, there's no point pretending in the end, bc he hopes there won't be another loop but in their heart they Know there will be, so what's the point? And he fumbles every interaction, makes every one of his friends hate his guts, and then has to fight the King alone. And then they save him anyway. They follow him and pick him up at the end (which cinematically is a God damn masterpiece all on its own God DAMN) and you figure out the whole time Siffrin was looping not bc the country fumbled a Wish, but because he didn't want his friends to go. He wanted to stay with them so badly he wished for it on accident, and the universe listened.
I haven't even gotten into how in awe I was, putting together the little puzzle pieces of Sifs backstory, of his island. Even in act 1 I was squinting my eyes. Several mentions of a whole island wiped from existence no one can remember? A protagonist with severe memory issues and no connection to or knowledge of any culture left? God I love this game.
And Loop. I didnt learn Loops story on my playthrough, but i looked into it and man. Its so incredibly neat that you have this character, this other siffrin, who went through these loops so many times they got desperate enough to make a whole NEW wish, unspecified and uncaring, just wanting something to change. Wanting help. And got shoved into our Siffrins reality instead, because wishes never work how you want them to. Finding their star room and their journal and trinkets and lore was so incredibly cool!! Though im confused why the journal says they made a cooy of themself, but their battle dialogue says they got shoved into a different reality. Idk, but it's still cool. And their anger, that someone else got their happy ending? Fucking mwah.
These characters are so complex and interesting and a day later im still in awe about it. There are so many parts of this game i havent even mentioned here that are like a punch in the face. So many little interactions, so many art shifts.
I loved this game deeply, and the only thing stopping me from playing more is guilt at taking away that ending. When a game makes u care about the characters that much, you know its a great game.
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evil warped mind a twisted psyche no end to his wrath and anger
#lancer#deltarune#deltarune chapter 1#chaos king#just learned his torso isn't a ball#its an upside down spade#how has EVERYONE got it wrong#its in the fucking sprite but its so damn subtle#undertale#utdr#ms paint#tumbleweed#my art
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homestuck reread #15 act 6 p6
this is funny . HE DID THOSE THINGS . he is so silly . he is the reason all of my faves just died gruesomely. i hope you die in a fire you fucking bitch
when you walkin
my son needs to be studied in a genetics lab . why would you ever say this to another human being
okay...... in dangerous territory of becoming a roxygen shipper... surely this will not happen to me
LOOK AT MY SON HE WILL LIVE UP TO HIS RESPONSIBILITY AND MASTER HIS POWERS
this is how i look in real life every day of the god damn week year month space time continue umm (thinkign of daeb stribur)
MY SON IS SUS HES VENTING SOMEBODY STOP HIM BEFORE HE KILLS US ALL
ive been converted to roxygen. sorry to all my fans. also this sequence um is the best and i love it even though the things that it is a reaction to were terrible and maybe the worst i love this part for some reason. it is like a break. like there is a plan in motion and things are getting fixed, but it also feels... quieter... the chiller if you will. maybe because i love john and roxy and they are the stars of this part
i wonder if he was saying things like gadzooks or shucky darn or ay chihuahua
ok i watched the vriska gram and it was awesome B) but look at THIS . wow they are getting along! awesome we love to see it
???
SO TRUE. i need to start saying this. or do i? no probably not .
awwwwww yeeaaaaaaaaa-
he is so funny
brother what are you saying... youre so corny lil bro... i cant believe i used to be like this when i was like 11 years old... SO CRINGE
yeah sometimes things are just really fucking gay. and is it a crime to point that out . like my friends? theyre all soooooooo gay its ridiculous. i think it makes them better
john egbert - subtle as a brick. i kinda love him for that though? like it is funny to me just how fucking oblivious he is to like EVERYTHING around him .
john being absolutely mind blown and own realizing he wants terezi so badly is so funny like LOL YOU WANT HER SOOO BAD AND KARKAT JUST CALLED YOU TF OUT LIL BRO
WHY DOES HE WANT TO FUCK HIS MOM
hes so over
god i love dave and arquius sprite. look at them . my sons. one of them is weird and sweaty
dave is so me (in my mind)
this is the funniest jake will ever be and the joke is on him and he said ONE word. great comedic timing buddy
i love this for karkat. defend your boyfriend!! i dont think vriska is necessarily trying to be mean here but i do like that karkat is willing to seriously defend his honor.
me every day . goodnight
this is really fucked up man
GOD.
okay reading this i dunno if i always thought this probably i did but ive returned to it again and definitively this time. this interaction between dave and dirk is the BEST interaction in the comic and adds so much more depth to both of them who were already GREAT characters. THIS interaction solidifies dave as my favorite character of all time. homestuck is many things but one of its major themes is just trying to become a better person. and i think dave personifies that theme so much. he has come so far and evolved so much as a person that looking back at his early interactions in the comic makes you think you are looking at a completely different character. sure he types the same and has a bit of the same mannerisms but it is so clear that he went from shitty bigoted teenager to a guy who actually cares about the things he says and does and a guy who is actually a good person. he even says in a previous interaction with roxy and rose that he has focused on being a half way decent guy so that when he makes a freudian slip (which he does ALL the time) it wont be anything insane of unforgiveable. i fucking love him and i am so glad this conversation with dirk exists
I MEAN LOOK AT THIS SHIT DUDE . PRE SBURB DAVE WAS A FUCKING ASSHOLE AND LOOK AT HOW FAR HE HAS COME . it seems so simple but it actually means a lot especially for someone having gone through all the shit he did and coming out the other side like this .
man so fuckin true
GAHHHHHH MAN THSI UFUCK
okay... so thats all the images i have for this one. i do think its a good place to end it though. this is def my favorite part of the whole comic. theres not much left! next post may be the last. just a few more conversations and little events to happen and then Collide. its gonna be great!!!
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Reactions to Ch. 5 of Andromeda Six
Because I have to do something with my feelings. This is written out as a Live reaction, coz it matched my other post like this. MILD SPOILER WARNING
Ooohh, Another flashback
A lot of shit happens in this hallway
Dayum, Nerissa is looking good for her age.
Like… suspiciously good. Even if we took the smallest age difference imaginable, and assumed the traveller is the canonical age (21), Nerissa would have to be at least 10 yrs older than MC, if not more.
LOOKING GOOD SIS
Hmm, so Vexx and my sis are buddies *suspicious eyes*
OK my current guess, Vexx has either always been working with Nerissa and she charged him with infiltrating Zovack’s faction, or Zovack sent him to engraciate himself with Nerissa as well as find entry into the palace.
Omg, imagine if Nerissa was Vexx’s target all along, and MC was even more of a convenient method of infiltration… God the ANGST.
Ok, no more theorising, back to game
Vexx, Don’t WINK at me, my sister is right there.
Ok back to the present, and OOOOHHHHH sparring yasss!!
Pin me to the floor LIs
Now how do I choose the style of fighting imma use. Do I pick based on what I think each of my traveller’s would actually prefer, or so I pick based on which style I think will get me into training with my LI???
Well I’m a Ho so… LI training it is.
I kinda wish you got to choose a level of competency you had to the training. I mean, it kinda lets you, but at least two of my three travellers are quite physically capable, if not legit combat ready. I guess that would have been a TON of extra writing…
Damon: Holy shit you flirty bastard. We’re just throwing subtlety out the window aren’t we. God I’m way too into this jerk
Aya: Lordy, I cannot choose which flirt option is more spicy, but I gotta admit, calling her My Girl got my heart pumping
Calderon: Ummm… excuse me but did the grumpy captain just admit that he wants to fuck me? That’s not subtle holy fuck
Bash: another one where i cannot decide which option to chose. All I know is I want this tin man to RUIN me. I also really like that I gave my Bash-main traveller he/him pronouns. Idk but it makes it better for me.
June: I swear to god, this guy is perfect switch bait. I oscillate wildly between wanting to make him blush ridiculously and wanting him to pin to the closest flat surface.
Vexx: I’m kinda sad I don’t get to have any flirty sparring with my fav carrot boy. I also kinda wish he was at every training group just so he can see how much traveller has grown
NEVERMIND I got my soft Vexx flirt options.
Fuck those are too damn cute for my fav feral traitor boy
I knew they fucked with his head, but I do kinda wish his negative actions were not so explicitly tied to the re-wiring of his brain. Like, he’s turning into a very redeemed good guy
Wait… are we terrorists now?
I think we might be terrorists
Holy shit June
Things got dark REAL Fast
That CG is fucking WICKED.
June bug, you are a literal cinnamon roll of sweetness and sunshine baby let me hold you its gonna be ok
If I every meet your ‘mother’ I’m going to gut her. Just you wait
This is a very light Bash and Aya episode today. I’m kinda hoping they get their time to shine in the next few chapters. But we’ve already been to Bash’s home world, so I do hope he gets a chapter to be the star
And of course Vexx was only working with Zovack for noble reasons…
I was hoping he was out for revenge on the doctor that fucked with his head, or maybe he was looking for notes and documents about what they did to him. Different direction but not bad at all
No, I don’t wanna leave him. It feels so wrong. My June traveller would really have liked to have stayed, even just in the hallway
Wait… did he remember these bombshells before and just kept mum about it, or did he just remember since Ry has been helping him + trauma?
Either way, i need to scoop up this fox and give him pats
That crying sprite is making me FEEL things
Run away run away run away
Lol, I’m with Ry, that was a terrible entrance Damon
YAASSSSS! Traveller Kick some ASS
Oh shit…
THE FINAL ROMANCE OPTION CHOICE
I have multiple save files imma chose them all.
Damon:
omg I called him “the bastard”, we know him so well
My hero, the stabby lad
KISS ME KISS ME
Yassss battlefield make out
Awww he looks so in love in this CG
I knew he’d be a tease but omg.The dialogue exchange between these two is *chefs kiss*
Ayame:
how is she holding me up
Dayum babe, you’re strong for such a tiny person
Fuck can I kiss her again
Awww, baby, you’re too cute
I wanna scoop her up and spin her I’m so happy
Calderon:
He calls me stowaway <3 <3 <3
He’s so mad at me holy shit
Kiss me you moron!
Wow, that was way smoother than I thought it would be
Pin me to the tree captain!!!
Get lost again, I’ll only get lost in your eyes
Bash:
Robot BF to the rescue
He looks so worried about me awwww baby boy
Even his Kiss is cute goddamnit bash
How is he so damn cute, yet so damn sexy
This isn’t fair. You’re not fair bash
June:
you are handling this a lot better than I expected June bug, given the amount of shit you’ve been through today
Superstrength is quite handy
Holy… *swoon*
Traveller.exe has stopped working
Once again, I don’t know if I want to ruin you or let you wreck me.
Stop pushing my switch buttons Juni
Vexx:
oh so you remembered you were my bodyguard huh
He’s yelling at me and all i wanna do is kiss his dumb face
So I did and it was AMAZING
The whole crew has got to be so sus about traveller going missing with just Vexx. Like… that’s gotta raise some concerned
Oh no… the CG… its so beautiful
I demand more kisses Vexx. Kiss my broken heart better
I really wanna write this out with my non-canon traveller, just to make it work in my HCs. It’ll be so fun
Big Twist
HOLY SHIT
#andromeda six#a6#Slushie reacts#A6 chapter 5 spoilers#a6 spoilers#this VN is getting to me#I want to make ALL the fan work#but have no idea where to start#making me feel shit devs#how dare
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Change
[This is a late story I meant to post around Christmas of 2020. You may want to go back and read Disparu which chronologically occurred after this for some context on light choices of prose.]
"Do I live in the other world,
then? Dare I say that?"
- Franz Kakfa
How many times can you shake a snow globe before it gets fucking boring?
She’ll let you know as soon as she derives that answer.
At this point, she’s lost exact count of how many times the porcelain flakes have been thrust up and swirled about. But Xiaohu started at around two bells into the day, and she’s shook it up about every eight seconds so far. And that can be calculated once, whenever, she calls it.
She’s thinking and she’s not thinking. There’s something there being breached, and identified, and sorted. But she’d be kidding herself if she tried to say there’s her usual analysis, her unabating tactile sort of digestion of whatever she set her mind to. It’s coming a little more like something parasympathetic, behind the stage curtains. Reminding her it’s there; this growl emitting from her internal wilderness.
In the meantime, the ‘fore’ of her mind is distracting herself on how Lord Silmontaix’s ‘sprites’ managed to get her visage right down to the lines of black tattoowork wisping out from around her collarbones. At least Breandan and Silvestre were left no less probed - because she could definitely work out the very subtle shift of tone across Minidan’s cheeks of his own markings, and, somehow, Minivestre’s pose and little dotted eyes eerily conveys his ponderous nature.
The fact that she’s missed this sort of scrutiny either proposes she’s starting to lose her touch, or that Aramis has a lot more magic going on than she’s willing to really think about right now. Not that she’s willing to think about the former having a grain of truth to it, either.
She has more interesting things to preoccupy herself with.
Like…shaking up her Drachenglobe again.
What’s inside it, anyway?
Besides the porcelain they used for the snow, she picked that up in a snap. Only had to look at it there, at the party, before she was reminded of those little surprises amidst instances of shattered dishes. Pale flecks through pools of spilled over tea, or rust-coloured debris that slid out from her skin as easily as they had incised into their beds.
The liquid had to be something strange, some byproduct of the manufactory if she was going to hazard a guess. It didn’t have the viscosity of water, the behaviour of water. Xiaohu knew that instinctively, any being would. She’d have to ask Avenai later to brainstorm, even if the Garlean likely had just as little experience with something as… frivolous as this.
(Shake).
It makes snow feel so whimsical. Such an odd association that she understands so easily, but yet wants to dispute. Snow is never whimsical. It just isn’t. What a load of fucking bullshit, really.
The snow she had to duck her face from whenever it’s been time to drop in and make a presence in Ishgard is bullshit. The snow that always taunted her through windows and powdering the courtyard in Kugane is bullshit. The snow that she remembers, oh-so long ago, that swallowed everything and that she tries to not think too hard on — else the vividness of yellow earth, and dust, and rock, from her childhood would be overwhelmed by white noise — is particularly bullshit.
Snow is bullshit.
Fuck snow.
Fucking bullshit.
But, then, most of everything chalks up to bullshit.
People are pretty bullshit too.
And she’s a part of that bullshit, too.
But that’s just part of the product. And it’s a fault of the consumer if they don’t register how much bullshit they’re buying into, or fail to realise they signed up for more than their tolerance went.
Crystal-cut situation, here.
But it bothers her anyway like she’s trying to search for an answer that isn’t there. Because you are trying to search for an answer that isn’t there.
(Shake)!
Who are you?
Animal; shapeshifter.
Xiao Hu; Bian Lian.
What proper name is there to give you? You, who sheds past lives in one living vessel? What designation passes to you in lieu of Mandate?
Apparently that everyone’s giving a lot more credit than there is.
Do you accept?
Sure. (Shake). No. (Shake). Maybe. (Shake).
Look, here’s the rundown: maybe she’s done some nice fucking things. Maybe she says nice things. Maybe she believes some nice things. Maybe other people believe the same about her. Does that really make her a nice person?
Well, that’s the bit that’s not fitting right between your teeth, isn’t it?
Damned straight.
When did any of this matter? What makes a person?
Not the body, not the actions, not the perceptions; a soul.
Just a soul.
Has your soul changed?
We’ll also chalk that up as a ‘maybe.’
(Shake).
…actually? No. Fuck no, it hasn’t. Nothing’s changed.
That’s the fucking problem, right there.
Nothing’s changed.
You want it to.
Yeah, maybe she does.
Maybe the difference this time is that she has a personal stake now on whatever people want to say about her. And maybe it is a fucking downer sometimes to pull off the perfect heist. Maybe it fucking sucks to be held unaccountable.
That’s it?
Yeah — that’s it.
You could hold yourself accountable.
Next part to the philosophical dilemma going on here: she doesn’t even know how much she is accountable for. How would she even start to trace that sort of thing? Where’s the legal framework that works out the ownership of a sin throughout its hands? But then, it’s not just ‘one’ anyway isn’t it?
It was a life; it was culture; it was drowning; it was more than just one moment; it was a life.
(Shake).
Does a soul inherit the transgressions that pass through it in worldly current?
The body, when it blooms under the moonlight, is it, itself, responsible for allowing something so insidious to feed it?
You don’t have answers.
What fucking answer is there?
(Shake).
What do you think?
That to place evils on the shoulders of the originator and nothing more is a crock of shit. Immature, irresponsible. That it shifts away the fact that wrongness in the world exists in nine parts obedience, one part authority. It wasn’t just Manami.
It wasn’t just Manami.
But even if she wanted to, she doesn’t know how to blame the right person, people, anyway - and not for lack of fucking trying. She doesn’t know. Every time she tries, it just doesn’t work. It writhes like letters that do not wish to be read; thoughts that do not wish to be comprehensible. These facts that should mean something.
But they just fucking don’t.
(Shake).
What she thinks is not the same as what she feels.
What she feels is that her soul doesn’t remember anyone’s face but Manami’s. Because everyone else became Manami to her in those years. Manami, Manami, Manami.
Manami Chinatsu.
Three steps down the palate (three shakes down the clock).
Chi-na-tsu.
To swish out, on three, from between her teeth.
She wanted it all to be Manami’s fault.
She wanted everything to be like how it was at the beginning.
Manami; lotusbloom; whitewall; bloodpaint; moonsway; sinsoul; Manami.
Just Manami.
(Shake)!
But you lived through it too.
She survived.
Did you?
She was a child.
Were you?
She had no choice of her own.
You made them anyway.
It was wrong.
One part authority…
…nine parts obedience.
…(shake)…
Clinched.
She hung him.
Snuffed.
She smothered that one too.
Permitted.
She never even tried to do anything else but…
…what they taught you.
…what they taught her.
(Shake).
You are guilty.
Go fuck yourself.
That is what you wanted to hear.
Yes.
...no.
…
...yeah.
Maybe— no?
Go fuck yourself.
What you want, then, is—
Impossible. Stupid. Whatever.
She doesn’t want to be accountable.
Or unaccountable.
A nice person? An awful person?
She doesn’t want any of it.
That’s i—
How about you just shut the fuck up?
(Shake)!
Like, seriously.
(Shake)!!
Just go fuck yourself.
(Shake)!!!
She doesn’t want it.
She never wanted it.
She shouldn’t have to feel this way.
She shouldn’t fucking have to.
She shouldn’t fucking have to.
She should be innocent.
She should be innocent, and she shouldn’t be thinking about this.
It doesn’t matter what anyone can say.
Nothing has changed.
(Shake).
The answer comes out to a clean one-thousand-five-hundred-sixty, give or take a bit.
By the way, if you were curious.
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Otome Thursday
IT’S BRAM!!!!
Y’all, you have no idea how excited I was for this route/series to start. I wasn’t a big fan of Ravi.
ANYWAY
Bram Route
Episode 1 (The free one 😉)
-I really dig the beginning of the route.
-Like a land hidden from even the Elves? Nice
-Also also, I like that this series, Love and Legends, AND Reigning Passions all take place in the same universe and it makes sense. Unlike the more modern series where the crew just sticks characters in the stories to say “Hey, look, notice these characters”
-Sorry. I’m ranting
-Focusing now
-I named my MC Mari Rya
-She’s beautiful
-She’s got a little, sprite/fairy/thing named Ness
-I love them
-I only know the name of the new land because I played the Ravi short but it’s called Tallav
-Mari’s got a reputation as a researcher.
-But this is also a lifelong dream of hers.
-Ness doesn’t speak (what I’m going to call) English, but Mari understands her anyway
-Ness uses They/Them pronouns. RESPECT IT
-Magic time!
-Ness magic time!
-Mari can feel all the living things. I feel like that’s not a human thing.
-But I will reserve judgement
-She’s had a rune stone since she was a baby. Yeah, she’s def not human.
-Holy shit a bear!
-…with a shield and a spear on it’s back.
-Subtle
-The way these sprites move are fucking hilarious
-Mari said “Nope not today”
-Can’t out run a bear. What does this bitch do?
-Drop down to play dead. Cause that’s totally gonna stop a bear from chewing on your spleen
-the “bear” is able to turn her over to her back (duh)
-it turns into a man and…oh what a man
-this CG is so fucking cute!
-he’s like “Is she alive?”
-She’s like “the fuck is he doing?”
-I’m like “Squeeeee they’re both so stupid rn”
-Oh those eyes…
-I haven’t been this in love since Razi. Or Renzei.
-Oh no! headbutt. Gives me a headache just reading it.
-Fuck look at those abs.
-LVS really knows what they’re doing with these character designs
-And Mari’s being thirsty too. It’s not just me
-Whew chile, the way she describes this man. Girl,
-Thank you, Ness, someone has their head on properly
-Never mind. They’re just as thirsty
-I still wanna know how Mari can talk to them
-He knows she’s a human cause she’s wearing clothes. Good lord this series is gonna be a riot in the first couple seasons
-Oh Mari…you’re sounding very Colonizerish
-I don’t like that
-Though it is kinda cute how she nerds out
-I can see her doing this with any thing she comes across.
-Thank you, Ness. Time and Place Mari!
-Invasive is one word for it
-Not much to write.
-She’s gushing. He’s listening. They’re both hot
-oh no, not an eyebrow lift!
-from both of them!
-I can’t do this.
-This bitch just walks away from a question ‘cause she got caught staring!
-I can’t! This is me. Running away from all my problems
-Bram follows cause, y’know, stranger in the woods
-Bram likes Ness. It’s adorable
-Anthropologist=Skald? Maybe.
-Apparently rune reading is impossible, so is befriending a Puck (Ness)
-Mari is def not a human. At least not fully
-See, I feel like if she showed Bram the rune stone she carried with her, that would help bridge this gap.
-But y’know. Whatever.
-Oh they are two bull-headed people
-He’s got (understandable) prejudices against humans/bipeds
-She’s like “MY RESEARCH”
-I’m like “Girl, they’re living people. Respect their boundaries. And Dude, Learn a little”
- She’s very forceful with the fact that she ‘needs to do her research’
-It’s very Colonizerish and I don’t approve.
-Mari, You can’t prove that the Duke who hired you only wanted you to do pure research.
-Ha, Bram called her pretty
-Ohhh Mahuwin Villiage
-Cue Victor from Underworld: “YOU MUST BE JUDGED!!”
-damn he called her insidious
-Mari…honey. Going to a village, you’ll get to see how they live and see how the justice system works. Calm down.
-Of course, no one’s ever been so unwelcoming. You’ve been dealing with other humans and elves.
-Girl!
-I’m judging you so hard rn
-Whew chile that took a lot outta me
Episode 2
-Awww I do feel bad for Ness tho
-They’re scared too
-Bruh, Bram JUST said he doesn’t know what an anthropologist is. You barely related it to a Skald. Showing him your notes means nothing.
-Bram, dude, I get you’re supposed to protect but you’re seeing enemies in the wrong people. Though I get why you’d suspect her.
-The Dinae have no secrets between their tribes (I’m assuming) so there’d be no need for an anthropologist to go looking for old history.
-Also he called her cute (again)
-Ohkay. I draw the line at you accusing Mari of torturing Ness.
-Only a heartless monster would lay hands on Ness.
-I need you to think baby: WHYY WOULD NESS STAY? If Pucks are magical creatures, surely you don’t think that Ness would be foolish enough to stay with a powerless human.
-Oh. Don’t make me insult your intelligence
-Oh don’t make me
-Mari. Don’t do anything stupid. Please. He’s actually being nice. In a weird way. Taking you to be judged. Someone else would’ve just killed you
-Mari…you can’t do your job in someone else’s country without permission. To get permission, you need to go to a village.
-I’m starting to question your intelligence
-Oh good. The bull-headedness is back
-No shit it’s more than just a job! I think you would have gathered that from the fact that to enter Tallav you had to pass a BEAR statue
-Oh no not the sad face
-I know LVS is gonna use that face to get money out of me in future scenes
-Mari, you’re both stubborn. And if I had it my way, you’d’ve gone with him already
-MARI! HE’S NOT A SOLDIER!
-ARUGH
- Not the type of roleplay I thought I’d be reading in this story but sure. Have some hearts
-I wanna smack her so bad and the first season’s not over yet.
-Usually the urge to smack doesn’t kick in until at least season 2.
-She’s a record setter
-Uh oh Bram, you called her an interrogator.
-And he STILL doesn’t fix it!
-They’re both so rude
-Ok, so he gets the why.
-We’re making progress
-This woman can’t let her thirst rest for five minutes.
-I mean same but come on
-Ah! Progress on both sides!
-Still don’t like how forceful Mari is about her job. How would she feel if her job put people in danger?
-You kinda did Mari. You kinda did say “I’m going to do what I want anyway”
-Not in those exact words but enough
-My point!
Bram: You ever think that if we wanted to be bothered by any kingdoms, we would have officially contacted them
That’s my point
At the same time, Bram and his fellow Dinae have their fellow prejudice against bipeds. As I said, mostly justified but they act that they can’t adapt or change
-Mari, interest isn’t always flattering…we aren’t in high school
-Now she’s running away. From a guy that can turn into a bear
-I’m very much questioning her intelligence now.
-Cause she dumb dumb.
-And thus begins an infuriating game of human and bear
-Oh yeah Mari, cause you can totally break the hold of a guy WHO CAN TURN INTO A BEAR
-As Mari is kicking and screaming, Bram: Am I hurting you?
-LMFAOOOO
-Awww Ness trying to help.
-Bitch. He puts you down and you climb a tree. Like bears don’t climb trees?
-Thank you Ness for talking some sense into this stupid girl
-Why is she so defensive?!
-Why can’t they just give me the option of “Fine.” FOR ONCE
-Seriously Mari? If you had stumbled upon a village during your wandering that really HATED humans, the chances of them killing you are SUPER fucking high. Doing it this way is arguably a lot safer
-YO WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!!
-That looked like a swamp deer monster from It Lives Beneath
-FUCK THAT
-RUN BITCH…FUCKING RUUUNNNN
-Why is run never an option when we are clearly outmatched?
-Oh god why does it have to look at the screen!!!
-I don’t like that
-and ewwwww they did detail on the muscles
-Yeah no shit it’s targeting Mari, Bram!
-I think that’s pretty obvious!
-Thank again Ness for saving One Stupid Bitch
-We…we get to RIDE Bram?
-I can (and will) make so many jokes about that
-I’ve already restrained myself from making Bear jokes. So, you’ll deal with that
Episode 3
-Hehehehehehehhehe
-We rode him
-Hopefully this won’t be last time
-and the next time won’t be in bear form
-Ohkay. I’m back. The chapter’s loaded
-Wait one more
-And we can use that rope for something else too
-Idk how to do the lenny face so……just imagine it
-Ok. NOW I’m done.
-Finally, a decent option. THANK YOU, BRAM
-Yeah Mari get that through your thick fucking skull. He’s a defender. He defends.
-Awwww Bram isn’t comfortable with praise. I’m gonna take every opportunity to do it now
-Mari, this is why we don’t talk shit up.
-Hehe still riding him
-Ewww that thing is back.
-Plus side?
-FIGHT SCENE
-Oh nooooo Bram’s hurt
-MARI CONTROL YOUR THIRST THE MAN IS INJURED
-Thank you, Ness! I swear they’re the only character I haven’t been pissed at
-Mari begins to nerd out over plants. Honestly same
-OMG HIS BLUSH
-GUYS. HIS BLUSH
-The stuff of nightmares was an Abberation. I like my name better so it and all its freaky brethren will be called The Stuff of Nightmares
-And Bram’s back to being suspicious. Sigh. And we were having such a nice time
-The Dinae don’t have pets and that’s the saddest thing I’ve read all day.
-Mari just realized that Bram’s been naked this entire time.
-Lol
-Oh so, if Bram trusted Mari, he’d happily tell her everything she wanted to know.
-Hmmmmmm
-I certainly can’t say no to that face. So neither can you Mari. Here. Have some hearts
-See, they say fur covered thigh, all I hear is, cuddling for the winter.
-OMG SHE COULD SQUISH HIS PAW BEANS
-IF SHE DOESN’T SQUISH HIS PAW BEANS WE’RE GONNA HAVE A PROBLEM
-Mari stahp being so thirsty. There’s a stream next to you. Go dunk your head.
-Ness is adorable and I want a plushie of them
-Oh NOQOOOWW she has a problem with riding him
-…Ok, I mean…her explanation makes sense.
-See, every Dinae does it!
-Bram is so tired of her. It’s so funny
-WAIT. THERE’S WOLVERINES
-….is one’s name Logan?
-I’ll leave now
-I’m so glad they’re starting to understand each other more. Cause I was ready to jump through my phone screen.
-Things are still tense, of course.
-Wait a fucking minute. Going through a patch of brambles saved you a fucking DAY of travel? WTF
-I’m very interested in seeing how this plays out as opposed to Ravi’s route.
-Let’s meet Chieftain Mael!!
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“No romance intended you sick puppies”
“There’s a raccoon”
“Whoo”
“I’d strike the sun if it insulted me”
“I will face god and walk backwards into hell”
“Hope comes in too many forms --- who has time for hope?”
"hugs are merely a subtle attempt to strangle you"
"How did I get here?"
"She looked into the toilet and cried"
"I find Darwin's theory on survival of the fittest my personal challenge"
"The ozone is pretty in the winter"
"You dab like a child"
"Call me a basking Robin sample spoon because I'll snap like one"
"Its not gay its Wednesday"
"I'm like a shark if I stop moving I'll die"
"I have no mouth but I must scream"
"Look at the Christmas lights! Oh wait that's a stop light"
"Can you see the blind?"
"I'm going to eat your toes"
"Freshmen looks makes eating children look fun "
"If clouds are made of water, doesnt that make rain abandoned cloud pieces because they aren't good enough to be clouds"
"I have cried over pasta"
"The dog isnt cute its rabid"
"What's the clear tape called? Oh ya tape"
"That's how you left our friendship, on the ground.... broken"
"And then they pulled a nut out of his chest!"
"What's the wiki?"
"They found a beluga whale with a harness, it's a Russian spy"
"What if I had a duck army and the commander is named Jim?"
"Boats are weird, am I right?"
"Is it true human spawn are born from a ritual of blood and pain?"
"The amish are part of the government.... they have control"
"You dont know how much someone is worth till you sell them"
"*whispers* put the lotion on the skin"
"Right now I'm Switzerland"
"Grades? is that a sause?"
"Call me sister slug"
"My emotions give me whip lash"
"I have the social tack of a dysfunctioning wrecking ball"
"shark bait hoo ha ha"
"I am a dramatic bird"
" Rome wasn't built in a day but did burn down in one"
"I'm to much like a house plant"
"Due to personal reasons I'm evil now"
"My lucky number is pi because my luck is never ending"
"Follow me, I'm right behind you"
"My body parts are in different time zones"
"I'm like a key to a lock that doesn't fit"
"How dare the world tilt on its axis"
"If your possessed by a demon, we aren't taking you home"
"Rose's are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue"
"Drink some tea, while we spill some tea"
"How many hail marrys?"
"I’m more temperamental than a mercury thermometer.”
"Put the lime and the coconut and shake it all up"
"I'm like a kid in a candy store, I just don't know when to stop"
" My emotions are like an avacado"
"Its either my arthritis or caffeine I can't tell anymore"
"You mean you can't tell people tallies by their baldness"
"Don't touch me I'm poisonous"
"Im so fucking feral"
"Is this how it ends?"
"You never realise how pale you are till you buy foundation"
"Can my imaginary friend kill me?"
"Jesus will forgive me"
“I want to eat a butterfly…. I just might”
“I’d hit a bitch with a lamp”
“I murdered for a muffin”
“Emotional support does not exist in this world”
“If i find a ghost attractive is it necrophilia”
“Free baby with every purchase”
“Death has an american accent”
“Death did not choose. He made a mistake”
“Trying to clobber somebody to death with cheap bedside decoration”
“Mom Im scared come pick me up they're howling again”
“Guess falling makes you change genders”
“I was once inspired by the soundtrack to frozen 2”
“Bros before immortality”
“Sex with a ghost? How would that even work?”
“If i was an egg i’d drop it”
“I wish i was well adjusted”
“wow, my mouth is watering… No that's the rabies flaring up”
“Im a good dude who makes strange work for him”
“What do you call terorism against heaven and hell?’
“I didnt sign up for this now suffer with me”
“Food is a metaphor for love”
“Oh shit wrong body… before he realizes that it doesn't matter”
“Snowflake the stalker peacock”
“Shane kills a man and eat cocoa puffs”
“Summoning a demon is pretty chill”
“And god said ‘ its kinda boring isn't it?”
“laying an egg is fucking wack”
“God once said ‘they will never comprehend those lights’ he then asked why she yeeted him to hell”
“What's it like to forgive a dumbass?”
“Earth is a libra”
“ my life is a lie thats why i live in my mind”
“Whats it like to be straight?”
“Are the straights ok?”
“I hide my issues while you hide your distress”
“My solution to everything is a good neck rub”
“We are like two peas in a rotten pod”
“Cannibalism and love should never be in the same sentence”
“I’m wearing a tummie tuck-FUCK”
“It’s not gay if he’s dead”
“Another interruption during the presentation will result in you being thrown out a window.”
“Jeez he meant a Literal closet”
“You know you fucked up when the villain starts to Tortured the entity death”
“Names Richard but I go by dick… by choice”
“The human mind is my worst fear”
“I’m a switchblade”
“My soul jumped a little”
“My back is like a glow stick”
“i don’t have a brain actually. my head is just filled with lots and lots of dried flowers”
“Vleb the American musical”
“damn, you live laugh love like this?”
“Are you really making jokes about your death?”
“ baths are the accepted human soup”
“I don’t want a sugar daddy I want a salty daddy”
“Sanity is not real, it's a social construct.”
“ Sprite is the want to be water“
“I’m not gonna lock my car. What are they gonna do, steal my Cinderella booster seat?”
“That’s what Christmas is all about. Eating sugar cookie dough like it’s weed.”
“Ghost be horny because they’re dead”
"What do you take me for, human?”
“I will put you in a neverending story full of plot holes and spelling errors”
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Cold-Blooded
RusCan Sprite AU
Everything is just a normal human AU except these guys called sprites are running around. Snow sprites manipulate the cold, heat sprites do well in the hot weather...yadda yadda. Our boy Canada isn’t doing so well. He keeps shivering but gets nauseous if he tries to warm himself up. Maybe it’s just a second onslaught of puberty. Either way, he’s not the only one.
Check it out on my AO3!
~.~
"It's a little chilly, eh?"
"It's winter, yeah."
Matthew gave his coworker at the next desk over a long look. No acknowledgement. He turned back to his own computer screen with a light sigh, flexing his stiff fingers before going back to compiling these ungrateful bastards'—oops, lovely reporters'—findings into a somewhat presentable column. He wore a thick turtleneck. He still shivered.
A glimpse around the cramped clumps of desks and lost souls bent over in their seats foretold nothing of sharing his blight. That guy was wearing goddamn shorts in the middle of winter. Matthew gave him a subtle shake of the head, although the tough guy wouldn't notice - he was too worried about bending over some newcomer's work and shaking his buttocks at her.
Matthew whispered to his adjacent sufferer-in-arms, "I'm going to get something warm to drink. I'll be right back, in case one of the bosses comes by."
No reply.
Matthew rolled his eyes, saved his work, then pushed from his chair. The only reason there were cocoa packets for the taking in the break room was because they were leftovers from a manager's party, and nobody wanted cocoa without marshmallows. And milk. Water would (very unfortunately) have to do. It was something warm.
Chilly hands clutched a cheap Styrofoam cup, shaking and sloshing around cocoa powdered-flavored water as Matthew slowly lifted it to his face. Instead of a nice wash of steam opening his nostrils, a slap of sweaty, undesirable muck came over him. He jerked away, waggling his tongue at the sink tempting him to dump the rest of the watery abomination out, but he decided to take it back to his desk and use it as a hot pack.
Matthew set the cup down, curling and uncurling his fingers. The cocoa's spell backfired; instead of relieving numbness, his fingers turned into noodles. At least those were supposed to soak in hot water. Not cocoa. Yes, this ruined the whole point of a steamy beverage. He was raised with standards. At least for hot chocolate. And men.
His shivering lessened to a nauseous quivering. Matthew crammed a lump back down his throat before tacking on his keyboard. He tossed more cocoa back as he started to get toasty under his sweater, regretting doing so as the taste washed over his tongue, but persevered through the rest of the dull day.
On the walk back home, Matthew tried to remember what he did for eight hours, but could not think of anything besides white walls of text. The snow banks seemed to give extra cold to the air, like Canada was a giant refrigerator and God just turned down the temperature dial.
Matthew eyed their grayed, gravel-infested lumps along the sidewalk, imagining too easily how the cold drifted and curled over his skin. Even under three thick layers, it was as if the cold was inside of him, posing as miniature ice cubes in his veins.
An uneventful walk, an uneventful handful of hours before bedtime. His flat was quiet. He kept the TV set low as news reporters poured over anything wrong with the world. Oh, and a local puppy adoption. Hey, puppies were the best.
Matthew violently shivered on the couch. He sent a weird look to the thermostat before relenting and hobbling over to give it a nudge for warmth. Back to the couch. Shivering. Thermostat again.
Oops, too warm now. Matthew shed his blanket and turned down the temperature a little. Back to the couch. Blanket intact. Weather time. It was going to be cold all week. Then a snow storm by the weekend. He bet the school kids were excited at the sound of that. He would muster up a smile at the thought of pretty sparkling flakes before relentless feet stomped it to pity if he weren't shaking in some kind of fit.
Matthew decided to keep the thermostat down, as he could always add more layers and more blankets, as opposed to shedding his skin when it got too warm. Under five blankets—yes, five thick comforters—he shivered. Of course he shivered. As if the blankets weren't going their job. Or he wasn't giving them warmth to give it back to him. Huh.
Matthew glared in the direction of his bedroom wall, twitching and shaking and quaking so much his darn muscles started to get sore. He plucked his cell phone from the nightstand, trying for the weather again, but this was so damn ridiculous, especially without his glasses, and the screen was just a blur of light jumping back and forth. He slammed the device back on his nightstand and flipped himself over with a growl.
He couldn't shiver all night. Eventually, he would pass out.
~.~
"Agh! Ow, oh, what...?" Matthew pulled his hands from the covers, gawking at his bone-white fingers. He was white, but not that white. He whipped his blankets away, putting his icicles-for-legs to the floor and hobbled around his room like the cold from the floor seeped into his feet.
"Ooh, man, this is bad," he spat between trembling teeth. "Just how freaking cold is it? This is starting to get ridiculous."
Matthew grabbed for a pot for tea or even more damn cocoa-water, something warm! Okay, he managed to fetch some milk from the fridge, hissing at the cold coming from there, like there wasn't enough in the world. He stared at the milk gently steam like an insane person would, tempted to stick his fingers in the flames below.
Hey, there was a good idea. Matthew lifted his hands, holding them a little ways to the fire warming his milk. He smiled and nodded to himself as the almost-non-metaphorical sheet of ice against his skin started to melt. Then it burned. He yelped and jerked away.
Matthew was not even close to the stove. Not that close. He twisted the knob to lower the heat, grumbling at his own stupidity. He had a roof over his head; he'd warm himself with his heating bill, not the stove top, for crying out loud.
~.~
However, Matthew did not get warm. He got ready for work with stiff fingers. Ate some doughnuts with hands made of ice instead of muscles and what not. Shivered some more. Sometimes the quiet flat was too quiet, but not in a suspicious-spy movie way. It was quiet in a 'damn, I need a boyfriend or a dog in here' kind of way. The teeth chattering filled the silence and rattled his nerves.
Surprise, surprise! It was a cold walk to work, too.
Matthew has been cold many times in his life. Sometimes it was fun. Other times, the snow or freezing rain soaked his socks, and that wasn't as fun. But he never, ever got freaking sore from shaking so much. He wondered how much of a workout was shivering. Maybe he burned (or froze off) plenty of calories from those two donuts he ate that morning.
"Oh, Mister Williams!" A middle-aged 'Can I speak to the manager' woman strode to his desk with too bright lipstick for the sorrow in her eyes. "Hey!" She nasally brayed, "How's the column going? Did you get my e-mail?"
"Um...the one about the cat pictures? Yeah..."
"Yeah?" She smiled, parting the sea of pink that shouldn't be on someone's face. "You like it? Don't lie, I can see that you do. Everyone's gonna love it. They all love cats. They better, anyway, providing you do your little keyboard magic, and move everything just right...!"
Matthew just blinked as this lady went on and on how one of the previous programmers left a stray code in the middle of her article last quarter, and they received a bunch of angry letters from people that had nothing better to do than complain that they saw 'greater than' and 'lesser than' symbols outside of a school classroom. He let out a shaky exhale, trying not to bite a chunk of his tongue off from his teeth trying to rattle up a band.
"Oh, honey!" The lady cried in a decibel that would make dogs whine. "You look so pale! Are you sick or something? Oh!" She pulled her scarf over her mouth. "I hope you don't give me anything!"
"Mm, n-n-no, I d-don't think s-s-so."
"I'll see about turning up the heat a bit for you, okay? Just...make sure you cough into your sleeve! I'll come by again to see how things are working out! I can't wait to see those kitties on the front page!"
That was new. Asking how Matthew felt. Usually the quick, 'Hey, how's it going?' did not warrant an actual response. Yet if he didn't toss a fast, 'Fine, thanks,' then he would seem rude. What a cruel world.
Matthew managed a stiff nod. Words were improbable.
His neighbor gave him a long side-eye, like the chills were contagious. Were they? Matthew didn't know. He almost started to type in the search bar, but his hand quaked as it hovered over the keyboard. A jumble of letters. He could hardly get himself to press the proper keys.
"Ugh," Matthew bemoaned his blight. He sat in his chair, glaring down his keyboard as his glasses slid down his nose. If only the keys would tell him they had everything and not to worry about his work; they got it. Another shudder grabbed a hold of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stay sane through its hold.
"Uh...hey," his neighbor leaned forward to eye him up. "Are you...going to be okay?"
"No."
"I think you should go home."
"I just got here."
A long look.
Matthew wanted to say his colleague didn't want to get sick, that's all. He twisted, planting his heels flat to the ground before pushing himself from his chair. A slap of heat came over him. He grunted, and a sticky sheen of dampness poured from his, well, pores. The world and the bewildered faces of journalists swirled around and around and around. "Oh, maple."
The carpet came for him in a flash of ugly stained blue.
~.~
Murmuring. Beeping. Constant beeping. Brightness. Matthew groaned at it all as his head lolled to the side of a...pillow. He was lying down. His eyes flew open.
"Oh...fuck!" He spat to himself in a hospital. A damn hospital. "No, no, come on..."
Matthew was surely sick, but not that sick. Jeez, those reporters are so dramatic. They probably clutched their pearls and flapped their hands in front of their faces at the sight of him passing out. He had to have passed out. How would he have gotten there?
"Oh, God, oh, no," Matthew warbled as a strong shudder griped his body. His teeth snapped together, and he let out a furious hiss of breath. "Damn it with the shivering!"
A pretty nurse came into the room, poking around, and tossed a glance toward him looking and feeling miserable on the bed. "Oh, you're awake!" She sang. "Hi! How you feeling?"
"Cold."
"I bet!" The nurse had her best service smile on, but her eyes screamed terror. "Your body temperature was down to thirty-five! Everyone's amazed how you were still up and about like that! So...just take it easy, and the doctor will be right in to...ahem, discuss things with you."
She left in a hurry. Matthew gawked at the ceiling as his insides were shivering now, too. "Thirty-fucking-five degrees."
(Ninety-five for Americans.)
"It's getting colder," he let out a whimper. Grown adult or not, he hurt. He was freezing from the inside out like someone stuffed ice packs under his skin when he wasn't looking. Maybe they did. Those bastards.
The vent in the ceiling kicked to life, slapping his face with a wave of heat. He moaned, squirming to get away without getting anywhere. "No, no, no, turn that off, please-!" Another sickening quake grabbed him and would not let go. He doubled over and gagged. The warmth kept coming.
Matthew drew in a sharp breath, snapping, and yelled in annoyance, pain, anger, anything cold-blooded inside of him, it needed to come out. A noise from the side of his bed crinkled. Then the IV bag leading to his arm burst, raining icicles on the floor. He lifted his arm up to gawk at the tube flailing uselessly from his skin.
Okay, kids, nobody is supposed to do this, yet everybody in movies does - however, instead of ripping it out like some kind of grunting barbarian, Matthew slowly wiggled the needle out of his arm with a little 'Ooh!' and 'Ouch, ouch!'
The tube started to fog in his grip, and he went to peel and detach anything between him and the monitors. Then he was free. Now Matthew could panic.
"Agh!" He ran to the window and smacked his palms to the glass. It was snowing. Wait, snow wasn't called for days. How long was he out?
"Mr. Williams?!"
"Sir, sir! We're going to need you to come back to bed right now!"
Matthew gazed at frost etching from his fingertips, fanning icicles into crystal white designs along the glass.
Nurses approached, "Mister Williams?"
One grabbed his shoulder. The man immediately recoiled with a cry of pain, grabbing his arm as his fingers throbbed against blue-purple skin.
Matthew slowly turned around, arms held up as ice peeked from his pores, running freezing water down to his elbows and dripping to the floor. The entourage of medical staff gawked with wide eyes, breath catching in warm puffs of fog as they met the chilly air. "I think I know what the problem is," he started as the window behind him crackled with frosty intrusion. "I'm made out of ice."
A moment before the window shattered, pouring over the sill as the winter wind flung itself into the hospital room. The staff screamed, throwing their arms over their faces and ducking for cover. Matthew turned to the gray sky, to the white mercilessly pelting the streets. The ice encasing his arms reveled in contact with the biting wind. He was so cold.
"We need the E.R. team in here, stat! Mister Williams?!"
Matthew stepped toward the window. His feet crunched on the glass shards, poking harmlessly against the thickness edging along his skin.
"Mister Williams!" The nurses screeched as he pulled himself through the window, and let himself be blown into the breeze.
~.~
"I can't find the coffee stirrers. Over."
Bssch, "They're in the upper cabinet, left hand side. Over."
A man sat at a desk, in a room completely to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose before snatching the radio off his desk. "Toris! Eduard! The intercom system is for important calls and emergencies, not your personal hand-helds!"
A voice murmured from one side, "But it was important..."
"Hush!" One of the men hissed. His voice grew closer, "Uh...sorry, D-Detective Braginsky."
Ivan slammed his radio back on his desk, giving his head a shake before flicking a page of his magazine.
Various murmurs resonated through the radio, calls from around the city. He turned the dial down by a smidge. Just a smidge.
"A stray dog..."
"...my leg got stuck in a snow embankment...in front of the woman I was supposed to be writing a ticket to..."
"Not to sound stereotypical, but I could go with some doughnuts right now."
Static.
"...at the hospital. Some kind of, uh...icy intrusion."
Ivan picked up his head from his magazine.
He turned the dial back up in time to hear another cop relaying, "Yeah, like, some kind of artic blast busted into the medical center. A couple of people have frostbite and cuts from the shards."
"I hear you," Ivan said. "Wait, I'm on my way."
"Detective?"
"Yes. Hold on."
"Oh, the head detective's coming with us?"
Ivan threw on a thick wool coat and stormed out of his office. Various men and women hovering over desks and pouring over bulletin boards hunched and skittered away from his path. Their eyes pricked his broad backside on the way out.
A snow storm was well underway. Two cops popped their heads over their cruiser at his approach. "Sir! You, uh-"
"Move," Ivan said. "I'm driving."
"Uh, yes, sir! The keys are already in the ignition."
Ivan gave him a stupid look, as the vehicle was already rumbling with life and sputtering hot fumes into the air. Once situated, the pair gave each other mirroring looks of shock through the bars blocking the back seats. Worried murmurs and static came from the radio, but other than that, it was a short but extremely thick silence to the medical center.
Another cruiser and private cars haphazardly parked before the entrance, and as soon as the keys left the ignition, Ivan stormed the place just as icily as the building storm outside.
Medical staff bustled around, trying to help confused patients that crept from their rooms to investigate the disturbance. A frail old lady held up a shaky hand to a nurse and complained, "Dear, it's so cold! Won't you turn up the heat?"
Ivan pressed against a wall and snuck around the pair.
"Oh! Is that the police?! Oh, oh! What are they doing here?"
"Ma'am, please, calm down, there was just a mild disturbance..."
Another officer jerked his head to a certain room. "Over here!"
Ivan followed.
Glass decorated the tiled floor, blowing from the grand window lining the furthest wall. Warm breath came from his teammates' faces as their wide eyes scanned the perimeter. One asked, "What could have done this?"
"Who?"
A weird look.
"I spoke to the witnesses. They said a man by the name...Williams approached the window, and it burs into icy shards."
Ivan asked, "Are you sure of that?"
The officer gave him a good gawk. "Based on witness accounts! The nurses that weren't injured by the flying glass."
"And this Mister Williams escaped?"
"Yes, sir, they said he jumped right out this window."
"Well, there's no body there."
"Yes, sir. He ran off."
"He ran off? After jumping out a window?"
"Apparently."
"So you're implying he is responsible for the window shattering?"
"And injuring the staff members, yes."
Ivan curtly turned away. "Stay here and get the full story."
"Sir?"
"I'm going to bring this Mister Williams into custody." His fellow officers trailed after him. He barked, "Alone!"
"But there's a storm on its way!"
"I won't be long."
Another officer hushed, "Just...let him go. He's the only one that can handle-"
Ivan was already down the hall. Of course, the eyes of medical staff and patients hooked onto the scarf flapping against his back, waving goodbye to the place when he wouldn't. A gust of cold air and snow pellets slapped his face, pulling his coat from his legs as soon as he stepped outside. Dusk was approaching. He needed to be quick.
Shoe-marks stamped the light dusting of snow in the parking lot. Ivan paced until he lined himself below the shattered window. Glass crunched under his boot. His eyes followed down the side of the building, a two story drop, and across the parking lot. The streetlights shimmered against clumps of ice leading across the car pack.
Further, toward the street, the icy dimples morphed into foot-prints. A shallow snow bank, but someone must have fell into it and struggled to get up. The steps led down the sidewalk. Ivan darted down the road, eyes steady on the distant field still covered from the previous snowfall.
The field remained virtually untouched, except when Ivan plowed himself through the ever-deepening sea of white the further out he went. He slowed as struggling leg divots in the snow intersected with older trails until he finally stopped, glancing around sparse trees and a metal baseball cage some distance away.
Before Ivan could step forward, something snagged one of the tail ends of his beige scarf. It tightened against his throat, and he let out a quiet gasp. He twisted around to snatch the cloth away, but icy claws protruded from the snow and kept a firm hold.
"Mister Williams?"
The snow shifted.
A snow-caked head of what should be blond hair emerged. A bone-white face. Wide, hallow lilac eyes. Ivan felt his own face try to pucker into distaste. Pale lips cracked open, and the man hoarsely whispered, "What are you doing?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Are you Mister Williams?"
The man was deathly still - a statue frozen to the ground. Until he barely moved to answer, "Yes."
"Mister Williams," Ivan started, fishing a badge from his coat. "I'm the head detective for this town's police department. I'm going to get you out of this storm and get you warmed up, but I need to ask you a few questions-"
"No, oh, no, no!" Mister Williams released Ivan's scarf, but his arm stayed stunted into the air, claws of ice wide apart and poised to the darkening sky. "No, no, I'm in trouble, aren't I?" His voice stretched thin as ice grasped his throat, "I hurt those people! Oh, no, no!"
"Mister Williams-"
"I'm a monster! You need to get away. B-b-before I hurt you, too!"
Ivan's eyebrows fell. Less enthusiastically, "Mister Williams, you are not a monster. Do not say that. We just want to-"
"I said...get away!" A hiss of strenuous pain, and a roar of wind poured upon Ivan's head. He threw up his arms as a fury of snow burst from the ground, swathing him in cold, unforgiving white. He shook the clumps off his coat, and Mister Williams' backside peeked from his hospital gown as he clumsily scrambled amongst thick plows of snow.
Ivan sighed, flexed his fingers, and rolled his head. "Okay, then. Hard way it is."
He swooped to the ground, planting his palms into the snow. Mister Williams had not gotten too far, lunging about in a straight line. Icicles shot over the embankments and under his hands and knees. He yelped as his nails scratched onto the sudden layer of slick, and he fell forward, rump going into the air.
Ivan straightened and approached with slight urgency.
Mister Williams pushed himself up with a delirious shake of his head, tossing a frightened glance over his shoulder, and yipped. It was a short warning before he smacked a hand to the ground, and spikes of ice lurched for Ivan's face.
Ivan's arms cut through the night air, and a sheet of iced-over snow emerged from the embankment to catch his assault.
"What the..." Mister Williams cried in shock and fright as everything crumbled to the ground. "You're...you're...!"
"Mister Williams," Ivan dully sang as he came closer. The carpet of ice withered beneath his boots, "You should try to make this as easy for yourself as possible."
Mister Williams scrambled backwards against the weakening ice. He gasped as it melted, only to clamp in a frozen lock around his hands, gluing him to the dead grass. "No! I don't want to go back! I'll only hurt more people!"
"Oh? Because you think you're a monster?"
Wriggling intensified. Mister Williams managed to burst one of the clumps of ice around his hands and flail his free arm in the air. "Yes! Look at me! What else would I be?!"
Two waves of snow rose from the ground, but Ivan swished his hands. They harmlessly crumbled into loose sentiment. He fell on top of Mister Williams' legs, much to the other man's horror, and clamped icy fingers over his head.
Mister Williams wreathed and put his own palm to Ivan's face. "What are you doing?!"
Ivan took a deep inhale as cold sank into his skin, freezing his veins, and a smile played with his lips, "You shouldn't say that! Because if you're a monster..."
Spikes of ice protruded from his pale hair, and Mister Williams could only watch as frost etched across the detective's body...
"Then what does that make me?"
A sharp breath to scream, but nothing came as the entirety of ice encasing Mister Williams receded, right into Ivan's pores. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped into the snow. Unmoving, the whiteness to his skin morphed into a slightly more healthier pink.
Ivan released his clutch, and left Williams on the ground to rise to his feet. He tipped his head to the sky, and let out a long sigh, dispelling dragon's breath of ice into the air. The frost against his clothes melted, dripping back into the ground, and he, too, looked unlike a 'monster' anymore.
Ivan dug around his coat for his hand-held. "Unit one, this is Braginsky."
His radio crackled and hissed. He held it from himself until it died down. "Unit one, do you copy?"
Hissing. A disconnected, "Sir?"
"I found Mister Williams. I said, I found Mister Williams!"
"Is he alive, sir?"
"Yes, although unconscious. He will need medical attention right away. I'm bringing him in." Ivan tucked his radio back into his coat without waiting for a reply. "Monster," he mused with a scoff. "Just for shivering and blowing out a window? That is child's play."
It was a cold, nightly walk back to the hospital with Mister Williams in tow.
~.~
Beeping.
Oh, no, heart monitor beeping!
Matthew's eyes flew open.
Just as he shot to sit with a horrified gasp, something clamped onto his chest and shoved him back down. A hospital room. Of course he was back in a hospital room. His wrists were free, however, not tied down like some wretched creature's would be. His fingers gripped the stiff fabric of his cot as he zoned on another man dwarfing a visitor's chair beside him.
"Stay down."
Matthew complied with a skittish gulp. The man's hands seeped cold back into his skin, a moment before he relinquished himself back to his own personal space. "Aren't you with the police?"
"Yes. You remember me?" Almost lightheartedly, although the big man's smile did not meet his eyes, "We had a little bit of a romp in the snow back there."
Matthew awkwardly grunted, gluing his gaze to the ceiling. He was in so much trouble. He was probably going to get life behind bars. If evil science people did not get to poke him with lots of sharp tools, first. Ice picks, probably. He was made of ice. Or at least, it felt like it. A little less. Maybe his veins were filled with slushy ice water instead.
The man raised his strong eyebrows. "Mister Williams? Are you feeling okay?"
Stinging. Tears pooled in Matthew's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know...I didn't mean for anything bad to happen." He scrunched his nose and turned his face away so he was not bawling in front of this near-stranger, "Ugh, my entire life is ruined. Ugh, it wasn't even impressive in the first place-"
A cold palm eased against the back of his hand. Matthew's fingers twitched against subtle prickles etching along his skin, "You are not a criminal, Mister Williams. You are a troubled man."
"I'm in trouble."
His company retracted his hand again with a sharp sigh. "Let us start over, okay?" He gestured to himself, to his soft cheeks yet cold eyes, "I am Detective Ivan Braginsky from the Police Department. You are in the hospital because you need help. Not because you are a monster. You are not a criminal. You are confused. That is normal. You just shot ice from your fingers. Again, that is normal. I will tell you why. We will help you."
Matthew lolled his head toward Braginsky. "Okay." He probably already was headed to the can. Minus well get answers. In a small voice, "Why?"
Perhaps it was his imagination, but a light clap of chill ghosted Matthew's cheeks as Ivan leaned forward, much less jaded and annoyed with the world. In near wonder, "You are a snow sprite."
"Um, what?"
"They are a species of humans that can manipulate and are manipulated by the cold-"
"I know what a snow sprite is."
Ivan stared.
"I've read up on the different kinds of sprites throughout my life. My brother's a heat sprite."
Ivan's eyebrows crunched together. "Ah. A heat sprite. Yet you...hm, that's odd. Are your parents...?"
"Both are rain sprites."
"Mutts?"
Matthew almost smiled. "Yeah, you can say that. Got a whole bunch of mixed blood in me, I guess."
"And out came the ice instead?"
The cold permeating the room didn't feel so bad. It almost felt warming, but not warm, in a kind sense. Matthew let out a long, easing exhale. "Yeah. Looks like it."
"You never...gave off any indication that you have these sorts of abilities?"
"Nope. Well, my brother always felt too hot to the touch. Like, if he hung on me too long, I would always sweat, and-"
"That's normal for heat sprites."
"Oh."
"Maybe it was simply years' build up. Or a late onslaught of growing up?" Ivan leaned against his chair, dragging his hand over his chin. Then a slight uplift to his lips, "You are an enigma, Mister Williams. When I got that call that some lunatic threw himself out a window in the middle of a snow storm, I was not expecting this."
"You were expecting some crack-addict, were you?"
"In kinder words."
Matthew found his own face pulling to a smile. "Thank you, Mister Braginsky. You're much kinder than the impression your stories give off."
Short lived bliss. Ivan fell solemn. Some haunt behind his eyes, "My stories?"
"I compile reports from around town for the local newspaper. I remember your name popping up a lot." Matthew tapped a finger against the bed, nonchalantly goading for attention, "There was a fire at the nearby quick stop last year. You were there. A generator, I think, overheated, and you...you 'sucked' the cold out of the air, and literally cooled it with your hands. It was amazing reading the reports. What you said about it. I could never imagine being able to do something like that. Amazing."
Ivan dropped his gaze to the hands folded on his lap. "Oh, that."
"Just 'that?'"
"I got into trouble from that. Mostly a slap on the wrist, but people say what they want to say in those kinds of situations. You're not supposed to make a big speculation of your powers around other people. Especially our type." Ivan's prominent nose curled as he hissed the words, "'Public disturbance.'"
Thoughts of getting thrown in a stony jail plagued Matthew's mind again. Scientists, with big, sharp scalpels-
"It's a solitary life," Ivan murmured. "Not enough people know much of anything having to do with us. Not enough people want to know anything. Our touch can and will hurt them. Who would you blame but yourself for your own loneliness?" He blinked, and picked up his head. A slight slap of cool air dusted Matthew's cheeks. There windows were not open. "Ah, that was a little bit too sad, yes?"
Matthew couldn't help a little laugh. "Yeah, that was real freaking sad. We are monsters."
"Now that was sad. I suppose even monsters feel it, too, yes? Does that really make us monsters, compared to those who deny it?"
"Ugh, stop it, you're making my head hurt."
Ivan let out a giggle. A giggle. The grin cracking along his pale face attracted eyes more than that gloom hanging over the room. "It is not all bad news, Mister Williams."
"Really, you can call me Matthew. And what is it?"
"Matthew. Matvey. No, Matthew. Yes. Uh, you're most likely going to get charged with the cost of window repairs."
"I knew that. That's not good news, anyway."
"You also hurt people."
"Detective, I thought you said you had good news."
"You're not going to get arrested, or tossed in some spooky prison."
Matthew's eyes went wide. "What?"
"The hospital is not pressing charges, as long as you cover the damage. Not as a criminal, at least, but there was nothing I could do to dissuade them from seeing it as an onslaught of mental health issues."
Matthew fell back against his pillow. "They probably are, anyway."
"Don't say that."
"Whoops."
Ivan scrunched his face for a moment, before it fell back into a sly grin. His hand breeched the mattress, crinkling the hospital sheet, "You live in a good place. People will take care of you. Maybe...when you come back...if you find yourself without a job, the station is always looking for honest people to share our stories. Journalists. Reporters. Programmers, too. Those are always in demand."
"What?" Matthew gasped, "Mister Braginsky, no. You can't. You shouldn't-"
"I'll put in a good word for you."
"Why?"
"I like your stories." Ivan almost said he liked Mister Williams. That would have been a bit too soon, wouldn't it? He just tackled the guy to the snowy ground and knocked him out, after all. Usually people don't make friends that way. Usually he didn't make friends at all. He decided to go with, "I always read my stories coming back to me, from you."
Matthew's hands curled over his own face. "Oh, no..."
"I think you even called me a 'hero' once-"
"No, no..."
Ivan grinned, "I actually don't live an impressive life, Matthew."
"Says you." A ripple of cold air drifted across the cot. Matthew shot the detective a look that was supposed to be threatening, almost as if goading him to 'Try me.' "I think...what you did...I thought that was impressive."
"Do you mean, what I did a few hours ago, or just in general?"
Matthew lightly smacked Ivan's shoulder, grinning, "Shut up."
Ivan found himself copying the mingling chills in the air. "I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about what happened."
After some thought, "Okay, Mister Detective. Ask away."
It took some guts to reach over and put an icy palm to another.
At the end, Ivan stepped out of Matthew's hospital room, realizing his interrogation was something more of a self-indulgent questionnaire.
Snow sprites live solitary lives. Maybe this one didn't have to.
#oh hell yeah my dudes I like me some#RusCan#THE SIN BIN#hetalia au#hetalia fic#hetalia#hws RusCan#hws Russia#hws Canada#my fic
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Dubious Documents~Part 3: The Request
Read Part 1: The Anonymous Message & Part 2: The Phone Number
Excerpt: “’I'm...I'm here to see Namjoon?’ You pose the statement as a question, unsure of how you're supposed to introduce yourself.
The clown blinks for a moment before a light seems to go off over his head. Suddenly his expression is much more lively, almost animated. ‘Oh, right! You're the reporter chick, yeah?’ He doesn't even allow you to answer before he steps back, letting you enter the dimly lit space.’You wired?’
Your eyes narrow, unable to hide any irritation or frustration that you held onto for the past few days. You're being forced to come here and he wants to know…
’Do you really think I would tell you if I was?’”
Word Count: 3,781
When the Meng Motel became a corporation, they had their two story hospices strewn all over the small country. With the migration of people from one place to another, some of those motels became abandoned. There was one right on the outskirts of Kkum Coast.
That's where Namjoon wanted to meet you.
The card also specified you go through the lobby and left, down a hall to where a pool used to be (those Mengs really were ahead of their time, eh?).
You weren't sure on what would be best: showing up early or on time. You just know that you definitely shouldn't be late, if Yoongi's whispered threat is anything to go by.
You went with punctuality, waiting until your clock turned 10:00 pm before knocking on the door that had a faded label of “Pool Area”.
You count two beats before the door is opened, a young man with a lanky form, adorned in wild, colourful patterns from his button down to his striped slacks. His pink suspenders match his hair, and at first glance, he looks rather similarly to a clown.
“State your business.” His voice is deep and monotone, much like he may have a sore throat or just woken from a nap.
“I'm...I'm here to see Namjoon?” You pose the statement as a question, unsure of how you're supposed to introduce yourself.
The clown blinks for a moment before a light seems to go off over his head. Suddenly his expression is much more lively, almost animated. “Oh, right! You're the reporter chick, yeah?” He doesn't even allow you to answer before he steps back, letting you enter the dimly lit space.
“You wired?”
Your eyes narrow, unable to hide any irritation or frustration that you held onto for the past few days. You're being forced to come here and he wants to know…
“Do you really think I would tell you if I was?”
The other nods exaggeratedly in agreement. “Yeah, that's true. You want me to frisk you for myself, then?” Again, he walks toward you before you can even think to respond. You quickly back towards the door, curling in on yourself.
“No, I'm not fucking wired. Jesus!”
He shrugs, still unbothered. Was that a requirement for being one of Namjoon's gangsters?
“See? That's all you had to say. And I'm trusting you, yeah? So if it turns out that you are…”for such a spritely presence, this guy sure knows how to switch it quickly. “I'll take care of it myself. Got it?”
You think you want to start a tally of how many times you can be threatened in one sitting. No one make that into a drinking game.
You only stand there quietly, not giving much reaction. Still the man takes your silence as confirmation, grinning widely before turning on his heels. “Great, follow me!”
You only hesitate for a second when you see the gun sticking out from a holster on his belt, only to fall in line behind the tall man and follow his footsteps. He begins talking as you walk through the room, past the empty pool and down another hall.
“So, it probably doesn't have to be said, but we actually dig the Miranda Rights here. So if you tell any authorities or anyone you know about who likes to stay here, you're dead. And we don't want to kill if we don't have to. Don't you agree?” He turns to you with a half smile. He speaks so lightly, as if he's reading off a grocery list. Some part of you finds that unsettling, but the journalist in you is intrigued and desperate to remember every detail.
“Alright, look alive!” The pink haired man calls in front of you. You follow him into another empty room where some other men sit at a table. “Hoseok, you need some coffee?”
The one that must be Hoseok groans from where he's sat with his head resting in his hand. His hair is styled similarly to Yoongi's, but his is definitely black. He blinks his eyes open to look at the gangster that addressed him.
“You know I hate coffee, man.”
“Ah, true! I got you, though.” The other pauses before giving a suggestion. “Cocaine?” The smile is evident in his tone. It's obvious from the glare on Hoseok's face that he doesn't find the joke amusing at all.
“Fuck you, Taehyung.”
Again, the one named Taehyung seems to take no heed to the harsh words. He only turns to you, gesturing for you to take a seat at the table.
As you walk towards the table, one of the men turns to look at you, eyes narrow and cut sharp. He licks his bottom lip, fussing slightly with his gray, slicked back hair. Just as he stands, a few greasy strands fall back in his face. He's tall too, broad in shoulders and monstrous in demeanour. All too quickly, you think you know who this is. And you say the name much before you can think about it.
“Kim Namjoon.”
He smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes (hell, it barely reaches his lips).
“It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've read so much of your work.” He takes a hand out as well, to motion for you to take the empty seat across from him, next to Hoseok.
Just as you sit down, you see another person come into the room, instantly recognizing him as Yoongi. At the notice of your presence, he smirks, taking the seat next to you at the end of the table.
“Smart girl,”he compliments slyly. You scoff involuntarily.
The build up is wearing at your patience, and the silence snips at your nerves. Finally, you start the lists of questions that have been haunting your mind.
“So, why am I here? What do you want from me? And why me? Why not someone else?”
You're not sure what response you expect, but the one Namjoon gives...well, it's sort of funny:
“I want you to tell my truth.”
The statement hangs in the air, adding to the chill coming from the cement walls. The only sound that breaks the thickness is your smirk.
“I'm sorry. What? Your...truth?” What truth was there? Did Kim Namjoon want to come out as the Mafia Boss responsible for more than half the crime in the city?
Not that you're making your incredulous expression subtle, but even still, Namjoon seems to calculate his next words. He probably does that on an hourly basis.
“Y/N, what are your thoughts on the Western Supremacy groups?”
Not thinking too hard on where this question came from, you shake your head and shrug. The answer is pretty simple. “Well, it just seems like a half-assed attempt of thinly veiling White Supremacy.”
Namjoon nods in agreement, leans back in the metal chair with his eyes never leaving yours. “You know who I kill, right?”
Well, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. Even still, you raise an eyebrow. This is new information to you. None of the PIs you have met that follow Kim Namjoon have ever told you this -what could seem like- vital information.
“What, are you trying to tell me you're actually just a gang of vigilantes trying to fight the forces of evil?”
A dimple curves into where he pulls one side of his lips into a smile. If you took a moment, you could recognize the company Namjoon seemed to keep (aka: some pretty damn good looking men). But that isn't important right now. You wish you paid more attention to the Criminal Analysts that tell you how to read a person's body language.
“If it were that simple, do you think I would be so meticulously hidden?”
The riddles would keep you on your toes any other day. Right now, you much rather cut the bullshit. You sit surrounded by armed gangsters in an area that isn't policed at all, and no one knows you're here. Your heart hasn't stopped its gallop since the moment Taehyung had answered the door (this can't be good for your health).
“So, then, what is the truth, huh? What's going on?”
At this, the Boss laughs. It's a breathy chuckle that makes you think what a ravenous lion might sound like at the sight of its prey. Unfortunately, amusement fits Namjoon well.
“What kind of journalist would you be if you only took someone's word? Wouldn't you rather observe for yourself?”
You freeze as he stands up. Hoseok and Yoongi follow suit, already heading towards the door. “Observe, what, exactly?”
Again, Namjoon thinks over his words, eyes wandering and lip between his teeth. “I would like to show you something, if you don't mind.
“Well, I do mind. Very much, actually.” When would you ever learn?
Yoongi squats down so that your eyes are leveled. In the bright fluorescent light, his menacing features are even more chilling. “That was him being polite. You don't really have a choice.” When you make no move, Yoongi seethes. “Get the fuck up.”
You obey quickly, waiting for Yoongi to walk away before moving towards the door. Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi have already left, but Taehyung stays behind to make sure you keep walking with the group.
“Hey,” Taehyung whispers. “No harm is to be done to you. When you're with us, you're safe.” His voice is soothing and his features seem gentle; it suits him. “You weren't lying about not being wired, were you?”
You shake your head, making sure to keep your eyes on him so he knows you're telling the truth.
“So that's how this works. You can trust us if we can trust you.” With that, he nods forward, urging you on.
When you make it back to the Pool Room, you make a different turn, going out the patio. You follow as the other three round the building and get to a parking lot, where two black trucks are parked.
Yoongi gets into the driver seat of one SUV while Hoseok gets into the driver seat of the other. Namjoon gets into the back seat of Yoongi's vehicle and Taehyung pushes you forward to slide in next to Namjoon. Taehyung must have gone to Hoseok's truck.
When Yoongi starts driving, you immediately glue your eyes out of the window, trying to garner some sense of where you could possibly be going. With Namjoon's words circling in your head, you still try to figure out what this Mafia Boss's propaganda must be.
“You know…”you start, still keeping your eyes out the window. “You don't get to decide who lives and who dies. You have to know that there's no way you can be painted as the good guy.”
There's no answer, just the sound of tires rolling over asphalt, of the wind rushing past the moving truck. You find comfort in your own words. Maybe there is some way you can survive this unscathed.
“The truth isn't always what everyone wants to hear. If being honest was a glamorous, happy thing, we would all take the road least traveled.”
In any other situation, you would probably keel over, fall into his side dramatically because you think the exact same way. But you don't want to let your guard down around this man, ever. Never want him to know that there is even an inkling of similar minds. No matter what he tries to make himself be, he is the one that plays God. He needs to be tried for that alone.
You drive further and further away from the city, from the darkness surrounding you. Kkum Coast is lit with street lamps; you haven't seen one of those since you got to the motel. The journey isn't too long, reading the clock only to find it's fifteen minutes till 11pm. When Yoongi finally pulls into a lot, you're met with an old factory.
Yoongi leaves the car first, rounding to open the door on your side. The air is cooler here, much like an early autumn night. The breeze is stronger- you must still be along the coast.
“Have you ever looked into WS groups?” asks Namjoon when he is also out of the car. In the distance you hear the slam of the other truck, Taehyung and Hoseok standing to the side.
“Not really. But with the election coming up, more WS groups have been making themselves more present. One of my colleagues has been following that. He's told me things here and there.” Minseok has been on edge, you know, contemplating whether or not he wants to delve deeper in the world of Western Supremacy.
The Meng natives restored their country decades ago, but not all of the Westerners that stayed agreed with the changes. What you think is most concerning your friend is the likelihood of uncovering people in authority that support this mindset...what kind of trouble would he be in, and would it be worth it?
“Has he ever given you any names? Any people he suspects to be an active member?”
Minseok only ever named nobodies, people that were on the street. They never mattered because they had no power. You shake your head.
Namjoon starts to move forward, walking towards the building. Like puppets, everyone follows his actions, including you.
“I have two philosophies when it comes to getting rid of a problem.” He holds up his pointer finger, a silver ring snug around it. “One: you have to get rid of those in power. Without a leader, mindless followers will fall. But, on the other hand...Two: not all of a person's followers are mindless. There's always one to step up to the plate at the time of crisis.” You make it to an entrance, and Yoongi opens it for everyone. Some part of you wants to make a comment about how docile he looks when he isn't talking shit...you'll make sure to tell him later.
“Put yourself in my position, Y/N. How do you think I get rid of this problem?”
You take a wild guess, though it doesn't seem too far off. “Genocide?” That seems to get chuckles from all the men. Fuck, were you spot on?
“If I tried to just kill every single white supremacist, I would be wasting my time and resources. I go after who matters.”
The hall you walk through is dark, hardly able to see the person in front of you. Thank god for the brightness of Taehyung's hair, or you probably would have knocked into him a couple times. Soon, you can see a light, blindingly bright at the end. No surprise, there are no windows, no way from anyone on the outside to detect whatever goes on inside.
There are three men, clearly Namjoon's from the way they hold themselves to the guns at their hips. The tallest one with blonde hair has a fresh cut under his eye and bruises on his knuckles. No doubt, whoever the man is that has the black sack over his head, sitting bound to the chair, is the reason for the gangster's wounds.
Suddenly, the weight of what you are witnessing hits you, and you stop abruptly right at the doorway. You're not sure who it is that shoves you forward, but every step feels heavy, like you have weights at your ankles. You don't want to see this. Fuck this.
“What is-”
“So, I'm sure you most know me for my incredible business trade?” Namjoon's tone becomes very light, conversational. That somehow makes your blood sizzle hotter. “For about the last five years, I've been perfecting the selling and buying of opioids, a few different kinds.” He walks toward his victim, still breathing heavy with his head lolled to the side. Is he even conscious? “But, the thing is, I want to grow. A business that doesn't change, isn't a good business at all, right?” He smiles as he pats the victim's shoulder. By the way the man tenses up, it shows his awakeness to the world. And maybe that's even scarier.
“I've been working with some people from Ecuador on a strain of cocaine. I want to call it ‘American Dream’. Rightly fitting, don't ya think?” To hear the genuine excitement in his tone sends shivers up your spine. You don't even think to give any response, not that he's looking for one. “But...one of the biggest branches of the WS group has a monopoly on the coke cartel here. Come to me for some Grade A heroin made just south of Kkum Coast, and go to them for some premium cocaine made in South America. Does that seem right to you, to have that distinction?”
Does...he really want you to answer that?
“Sure, fuck Western Supremacist for thinking they're some invisible god's superior race, but also fuck them for trying to hold me back from expanding what could be an amazing empire!”
With what seems to be the end of his monologue, he pulls the sack off the person's head, and if you thought the dread within you was strong, it just grew tenfold. All of a sudden, your stomach turns and nausea fills your gut.
Kim Minseok.
You must be wearing your emotions on your sleeve, if it isn't for the way Namjoon smiles. “You know him, yes?”
“He…” you don't even know where to start. “He doesn't have anything to do with WS. He's not even a Westerner.” Good on you for keeping your voice so leveled.
One of the unknown gangsters scoffs. “If you really think that there aren't dumbasses like him, you're more naive than you think.”
“Besides,” Namjoon picks up. “News Journalist Kim Minseok may not be in the WS for the love of white people...but for the love of selling what they give him.”
Minseok blinks beyond bloodied eyes. He makes an effort to move his head to face you. When he speaks, his words are slurred, and it tears at your chest.
“Don lissen to 'em, Y/N. Yoo know me.”
You did know him; knew that he wanted to excel at journalism, but always came up short for fear of angering too many people. He only ever covered half of the election because he feared what people in power would think. Your editor had always gotten onto him, tried to encourage him to step out of his comfort zone because he just could never put his all into a story.
“Minseok,” Namjoon calls. His voice is low and calm. “This can go one of two ways: you either tell me where WS is getting their next shipment, or you can die.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, wanting so badly to do something, but not being able to move from your spot.
The journalist looks up, carefully moving his head. “I don’ know anythen bout tha, I swear.”
The Boss seems to ponder over this. “See, but you've had so many opportunities to talk about the other guy in this election, how he's brought WS out of hiding. There are other people talking about it. Why aren't you?”
At this, Minseok begins to heave, and from swollen eyes, tears begin to fall. The other blond gangster, much shorter, rolls his eyes and sighs.
“You were given two options, Minseok.” The blond pulls out his gun, cocking the load and placing the barrel at your friend's temple. “Neither of them were for you to cry like a fucking bitch!” He spits.
Namjoon kneels down, still feigning an air of control and coolness. “You know how easy it was for my Jungkook to find you? You're expendable. We can go to the next person, and maybe they'll be a little more willing to tell us what we need to know. So,” he places a hand on Minseok's leg, caressing him in a way that makes you want to curl away, “why don't you tell us where their next shipment is unloading?”
Minseok seems to break down even more, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. His voice croaks.
“They won’ tell me anythen...they don’ le me go to...I juss sell, I don’...” He doesn't finish, but it looks like he doesn't have to.
Again, Namjoon nods, seeming to think about Minseok's slurred confession. He stands back up, looking down at the poor man for a second before looking to the blond. He barely moves, but suddenly, a bang! rings through the room, and your eyes are screwed shut.
You don't know how long you stand like that, rigid in place with your eyes closed. When the ring dulls from your ears, there's a thick sound of liquid hitting the floor, shuffling and footsteps. A shadow casts over your face, and you still remain the same.
You can hear his even breathing, and you wonder how long he'll watch you...if he'll take you to the chair next.
“Y/N…”
You jerk away from the rough palm on your cheek. The touch is gentle, and fingers seem to wipe away at a wetness on your skin. Were you crying?
When you blink open, you're met with Namjoon standing close. You think you detect hints of blood further down on his shirt, but you wouldn't dare look.
“I'm not...you have to know I'm not one of th-”
“I know, don't worry. I don't think you are. But this is what I want you to write about.”
You still don't understand (blame it on the shock). “You want me to write about...you killing my friend?”
“No. I want you to write about what I'm doing. I'm killing two birds with one stone: getting rid of Western Supremacists and building my empire.”
“Why?” It feels like such a dumb question, but it holds so much.
“What happens when the truth is revealed? It's a domino effect. Cause and effect. One thing can't be brought up without another. If you write about this, think about all the shit that will come out along with this. You would be uncovering layers and layers of lies...to help your people understand.” Again, his spirits are high. Does he think what he's selling sounds appealing to you? “So, will you write it?”
You know what the right answer is, but you still feel an urge to say what you think. “I don't think I should. I don't know if I can.”
With the hand still on your face, he controls your movements, makes sure you don't look at anything but him.
“Y/N...do you really think you have a choice?”
#bts#bangtan#mob boss!namjoon#namjoon x reader#namjoon fanfic#namjoon imagine#gang!bts#kim taehyung#min yoongi#kim namjoon#bts fic#tw: violence
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god save the queen [ eggsy x reader ] 001
warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol
words: 1876
summary: The relationship between Statesmen and Kinsgmen is fairly good, could be a bit better though. Various failed mission in the past has put some tension between the two branches, but thankfully, an olive branch, one looking exactly like (Name) (Lastname), is extended and intended to patch up any fights the Cousins had had. She is sent on a secret mission to London along with her new partner Gary 'Eggsy' Unwin to guard some expensive jewels and accidentaly save the world.
a/n: since tequila's name isn't made public, i just call him channing (since that's the actors name lololol)
also! this is somewhat of an AU where the golden circle hasn't happened (yet) and the two branches already know each other and have worked in the past.
MASTERLIST KO-FI. AO3. GSTQ masterpost.
from america, with love
The ice cold water running down a lone faucet turns hot and pink once it connects with the hands of yours truly. The bathroom is quiet. Usually after training most would be here, relieving themselves after a beating and/or taking a shower to wash away the grime and tension. None of these fall into the category of your current occupation. You hiss softly when the stream connects with raw knuckles, eye the tares in the skin and cuss lowly, as if afraid that someone might hear you. The pale white lights create illusions, they almost make your head spin: everything is so polished it reflects and turns neon. You look up; see your reflection staring right back at you with a confused, tired and angry face.
“Fuck…” Another low curse escapes your parted lips as you lean closer to inspect the subtle red peeking out your left nostril, “Fuckin’ Margarita…Name suggest she’d be a lot sweeter…” You mumble to yourself. Ah, yes, now you recall it all in vivid detail.
The training room was mostly empty, just a few leftover Statesman lurking around: some picked up their bags and left shortly, some stuck around to punch and kick and do some push ups. You and she were the only ones sparring. After a few minutes or so you felt your breath burn in your lungs; you had her pinned and she grunted, tried to elbow your foot away from her neck, but you only pushed harder and in turn, made her angrier. Margarita is a poor fighter, you knew this, everyone there knew this, and that’s why a crowd started to form around you soon after her first tumble to the ground and your ‘Get the fuck up’. Everyone was expecting you to throw in one of your famous kicks and knock some of her teeth out, you even overheard Wine and Ale making bets on how much the poor girl was going to get this time. You got cocky (you usually do). Let a triumphant smile slip on your face as you looked straight into her big blue eyes and were taken off guard from what you saw: rage. Pure, unfiltered rage. She most likely had had enough of you humiliating her in front of the whole agency, honestly – who could blame her ?- and before you realized what’s what she slipped your tight pin, jumped onto her feet and nicked you so hard that your bones rattled.
A collective gasp and amused, hushed whispers followed right after that, a whistle from Ale. Margarita, or Stacy Simons, shared one last second of victory before tumbling to the ground from exhaustion.
You turn off the faucet. A few drops pick on the side of it and drop with a silent ping. “Great…” You utter, eyeing the bruise slowly forming on the bridge of your nose, “Just when I have to meet those fucking brits, too.”
~*~
A couple of layers of makeup, a shower and an extra minute or so to pick the right outfit and it’s already two hours later. 11am. You trot down the hallway with your hands still aching by your sides. You try to concentrate. Try to think of what will you say to the cousins – from what Cider has told you, they have a major stick stuck up their ass. Well, that’s no surprise, really. You picture Kingsmen exactly as he had described: cold, like their weather, polite, but not honest, polished and of course, having a master’s degree in queuing. Also, Cider mentioned something about them being in a true gentleman(y) age. Which was quite a surprise, honestly, since most of the recruits working in Statesman are barely over twenty five. You fall into a small handful that is twenty one…You and Margarita. You guess that’s why you pick on her so much.
“Oi.”
You have a sudden urge to roll your eyes so far back into your head that you are sure they might pop out. Tequila joins you (where exactly did he come from you have no idea – Statesmen have this sort of magical ability to just show up). He towers over you and is never afraid to exploit this advantage either to eye your cleavage, which is hidden at the moment, or to mess up your hairdo. His hand was already raising and you smack it away before it reaches you. Tequila snorts, “Pissy mood?”
“Shove it.”
“Hey, not my problem that Margarita nearly knocked you out.”
“Beginners luck.” You scoff.
“She ain’t exactly a beginner.” He states, “Maybe you’re losing your touch,--“
“-Maybe you should go fuck right off before I make you.”
He raises his hands in defence, slows his pace, “Woah, you wound me.”
“Oh, I wish I did.”
To an outsider this conversation would suggest that the two of you hate each other. And you do. But there is also this strange sense of familiarity, companionship, just two friends making fun of each other for the hell of it. Tequila can’t help the grin that spreads on his face, and you can’t help yourself either. The tension fades just as abruptly as it had come. The two of you turn a corner, this time led by peaceful silence. You with a quick step return once again to thinking how to act like a proper lady in front of those English Queen’s Messengers, and Tequila, lagging behind just a bit, eyes the way your hips sway. Both of you are thinking about something equally important.
Soon or not soon enough the office doors come into view and you feel a pang of excitement springs in your chest. You glance at Tequila. He tilts his favourite hat at you with a smile. You don’t return the gesture, merely turn to see the dark wood doors behind your future lies. The two of you stop. No sounds escape from the other side, and you have no idea if they’re talking or drinking or possibly both. With Champagne it’s usually multitasking, that’s one of the reasons you like and respect him so much.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, (Name), just open the damn door.” Tequila sighs. You shoot him a displeased glance but comply; your fingers hook around the handle and with an uneasy heart you open the door fully. Your body drowns in sunshine and you have to squint. A pleasant ‘Oh’ and ‘you’re here’ from Champagne and you see him sitting in his chair with a cigar in hand. His attention then turns to the other end of the table and with a smile he motions to you and Channing standing by the door.
“Gentleman,” Champagne starts, “Some of my finest.”
Well, Cider wasn’t exactly wrong about their age, but damn did you not expect to see a slightly shorter male about your age looking like a proper British gentleman, just without wrinkles. You try not to stare, but it is a bit hard. He stands with poise, hands behind his back and his chin tilted in a way you can see the brilliant outline of his jaw. A smirk slowly rises to his lips once your eyes meet. Your brow ticks and you promptly look away, “That’s Tequila. A rowdy one, I suggest him on hand-to-hand missions, stealth ain’t really…his brand.”
“Damn right.” Channing agrees.
“And that’s…” Champagne’s eyes land on you, “Gin.” He glances at the Cousins, “She blends with just about anything and anyone. Be careful, though. The girl packs a punch.”
“And knows how to take one.” Tequila adds.
Champagne chuckles, “Ain’t that right? Sit down, you two. I’d like to give you a heads-up.” The two of you obey without a word in protest. Tequila sits on Champagne’s left; you go sit a few chairs back on his right. “So, I and my humble guests have been discussing a mission. In London, to be specific. Now, neither of you have been overseas yet, so that’s why I recommended you. It is their choice, however, which one of you to pick.” Instantly, your gaze shoots to the three men at the end of the table. Your eyes narrow – you recognise one! Galabad…Galasad? Mad?—What’s the difference?! You remember Ginger mentioning finding an agent wounded when this whole Valentine business took place. Sadly, you were in LA at that time on a romantic getaway with your ex-boyfriend. Looks like agent Galahwatever is fine after all.
“And…” You pipe up, “What exactly is the mission?”
Champagne shrugs, “Only one of you will find out, I’m afraid.”
~*~
Evening. The bar is rowdy with customers and country music blares from the old jukebox by the door with such flare and passion that one would think it was brand new. Some men by the pool table score and cheer, glasses clink and a few crash to the ground and shatter into a thousand glistering pieces. The bartender, Caroline, sends one last wink your way before she throws a dirty rag over her shoulder and moves away from the counter and you take her place. You smile down at your new partner, Galahad Junior, sitting on a stool right in front of you. He eyes the glass you gave him: a cold clear liquid with frosty ice sizzling at its bottom, smelling of Sprite and having a carefully sliced lime in its corner. You hold up one, too.
“Are all of you Statesmen working part time as bartenders?” He asks.
You tick a brow, “We all know how to make our drinks. Tequila is a master of shots, Wine picks out the best cheese to go along with his glass and I…” You motion to the glass in your hand, “Make a killer Gin and Tonic. Careful, though. Might be a bit too strong for you.” He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth with a mildly-amused expression. You take a shy sip. The alcohol burns the inside of your mouth, filling your nostrils with its sharp taste and sliding down your throat like a warm, fuzzy snake. Galahad follows in your example.
“Not bad.” He says.
You shrug, “And how about you? Are all Kingsmen tailors?” You lean onto the counter, “Will you make me a custom suit, Galahad Junior?”
“It’s Eggsy, and the only thing I can do is take your suit off.”
“A generous invitation that I will have to decline, Egi.”
“Eggsy.”
“Whatever.” You mumble into your drink.
“And you?” He pesters, “Was your name?”
“(Name).” You introduce, “Don’t get used to saying it, though. You’ll know me only as Gin.”
“Why’s that?”
“We’re not friends, Galahad.” You state, “And I doubt that we will be.”
“Oh?” He raises a brow; the corner of his lip curls into a tiny smirk, “I bet after five of these-“ He motions to his drink, “we’ll be the best of friends the world has ever known.”
“How early is our flight, again?”
“Depends on how early you want to back out.” He grins, “C’mon, call your bartender friend and tell her to keep ‘em comin’, yea? I think we’re gonna take a while.”
You smirk, “God save the Queen.” You toast.
“And bless America.”
Your glasses clink. It seems like a long night is ahead of you.
tbc (if you want to be tagged, let me know!)
#eggsy unwin#eggsy x reader#eggsy imagine#imagine#imagines#fanfiction#fanfic#kingsman#kingsman golden circle#kingsmen#kingsman imagine#kingsman x reader#eggsy unwin imagine#eggsy unwin x reader#tequila#whiskey#reader#reader insert#xreader#fandom#multifandom#not my gif
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I think i just hate being alive right now? i cant really think of too many other reasons for things i did, other than feeling helpless in life, and otherwise recklessness leads to feeling like at least i have some sort of significant ability to change things in my life when no other methods work.
Did communication in the calmest way possible work? No.
Did communicating in a more stern and blunt way work? No.
Did i repeat the first step? Yes.
Did it work? No.
How about the second? Still a no.
Did i call them a derogatory remark and go crazy and go stupid yet? No.
Oh, better try that and see if it works.
And itll either eject aint shit people out my life.
Or make them see the light.
So therefore, that happened.
......
He was fine. He was okay. We know this. I dont even need to look at his pages to know that hes fine. He's got lots of friends, and plenty of outlets for stress.
.....is he, though?
I dunno. I assume hes keeping busy, he does have Chris, and his friends in santa cruz. I dont have the slightest idea of shit he could be doing. My guess is coffee, organizing legos, watching videos of singing kermit, listening to npr, jerking off, and pornhub.
And walking his dog... i miss his dog. Scully. :/
But what am I doing, in the meantime?:
Staying in bed and refusing to sleep unless its from 4:45am to 4pm
Eating junk food before going back to sleep again
Fainting in the shower multiple times
Building self esteem up
Rejecting men who arent worth my time
Sleeping
Still trying to find ways to justify my actions during the breakup without inherently justifying or excusing abuse or relationship violence (hitting is bad, and being a gaslighting cunt in a relationship is also bad, but i mean, one is a crime and the other is something that wouldve lead to long term emotional abuse if things continued.... neither are great, and long story short hes pathetic)
What isnt pathetic over him dodging basic responsibilities? His whole identity is pathetic. Why else did his only other girlfriend before me only last 3 months and never get anywhere?
I think my intense irritation at the time i explained how his actions after our first breakup were inherently pathetic, was that he said "well, i dont think i was pathetic!", and i kinda flashbacked to any bad experience ever where someone claimed that since they saw no wrong in their actions, it wasnt wrong.... replace "pathetic" with "a creep", "r*pist", "toxic", "gross", or "abusive', and boom, youve got a list of reasons why I hate men deflecting what theyre told.... and continuing their shitheadedness, thanks to their own shitty pride.
(Like continuing to ignore lack of consent, harrass me, physically harm me... you name it! Yeah, trauma!)
But seriously, what isnt pathetic about "im not gonna tell you why she doesnt like you, even if it could lead to a resolution! and then im gonna swear that she doesnt like you, despite blatantly telling you im hiding her reasons for hating you ten seconds ago!'?
That screams "sometimes natural selection should come back and wipe out weak niggas like this one".
Since he's wack as fuck.
I still kinda hate ever dating this man. He was a living headache. Always having to say "that was a joke, dont worry about it", since even subtle passing humor would make him turn into Plato and question the sensicalness of a sarcastic joke, and take it too damn literal. Kissing always resulted in everywhere around my mouth being coated in spit.
Just headache after headache. So annoying.
But, on the bright side, i threw mcdonalds sprite in his face, and moved on.
That's all I really can do.
Since if I can't take back the bomb ass paintings, buttons, artwork, memories, or pussy that he had kept while not fully appreciating.....
Then, a half flat soda tossed onto his lap and face wasn't gonna kill him.
I worried that it would, in the sense of suicide, and felt extremely sick afterwards. But im sure hes fine.
And...
Kind of felt helpless after so long.
I was super hopeful about our relationship working out. Even the night that it happened, i did still wanna see him.
But its just not in the stars for us, bro. People sometimes are shit; and theres nothing to really do about it.
Hell, I used to be head over heels for Patrick #1. And he ended up being the exact same arrogant dipshit from the day I met him. Since no matter how well a person seems theyve grown, they'll stay the same as the first day i meet them, and i fucking hate that itll never be more than that.
I just hate getting my hopes up for things.
God.
:/
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you know. sometimes i love something a lot so i need to scream about the things that piss me off about it. i don’t think this is a particularly negative post but it’s just like sheer frustration and if you dont get some satisfaction from articulating your frustration into tumbler dot coms longposts and destroying the capital of this website because you are not a gemini sun then like fair i guess feel free to disregard this. tonbokiris kiwame is cool go look at that.
now to the lukewarm tea ive been simmering for five years. the one thing i always think about all the time is that tkrb is a popular game despite itself. the piss poor gameplay with only the barest of bare QoL in the five years its been up, the seeming complete lack of direction and the frankly nonexistent worldbuilding is held up purely because of its attention to detail and reverence to the original culture and history of the swords combined with some very good character design and subtle but nuanced character writing that can be openly interpreted. just enough flavour to imply something larger but chickening out on actually making anything y’know. concrete. basically allowing the fans to draw their own conclusions. but even then a game like that would not survive cause there have been countless, hundreds of games with high quality and fervent attention to detail and respect for the source material that just died completely because they have such little to actually offer in terms of engagement. i think the main thing that bugs me about tkrb is that it has one of THE most creative, dedicated and strong fanbases of this genre of game who go out of their way to engage with any and all of the content and the devs seem kind of oblivious to this.
in comparison to modern gacha style games, touken ranbu releases barely any new content and frequently recycles content but somehow it’s still relatively popular with approx. 1mil active players daily but the maddening thing is that tkrb can reach much MUCH further. the fans are there, the curiosity is there, it’s just the game content is not fucking there. it does not put the effort into commissioning seasonal art, pushing new events with actual plotline/story content, creating promotional materials, tie-ins etc. but somehow its still in the top 5 comiket circles for nearly five fuckin years straight. here are your badley compiled receipts: c89(w2015), c90(s2016), c91(w2016), c92(s2017), c93(w2017), c94(s2018), c95(w2018), c96(s2019)
it can launch itself from laughably low in the appstore ratings, hovering in the middle of the 200′s to TOP 30s in the appstore at the flick of a switch. what is this magic button that fucking quadruples revenue and skyrockets your app into the top 50 grossing apps? 3/4 of your characters getting static CGs that you cannot use at all anywhere in the game but will do a powerpoint transition and appear for 5 seconds at login. oh and like a few free mats i guess. and i kid you not it fuckin worked.
wanna know why that worked? it’s cause otherwise characters, especially fan favourites just don’t get anything at all. it’s like most characters outside of the very popular ones rarely get new art, new recollections, new anything outside of their kiwame upgrade which is more often than not years down the line and only recently, four years in, they decided to add alternate costumes but even then there’s a catch which has me feeling some kind of way.
and yes, i fully understand that tkrb is a multi-media franchise, i get that it’s got its fingers in so many pies like the stageplay, musicals, various manga anthologies, the animes, hell its even got live action but man, would it hurt to give some love in game? i’m not asking them to go full fgo route and commission the industry creme de la creme to make 6 full CE illustrations, lots of promo art and tonnes of new merch every single month. but the fact is for such a big franchise, reusing the same sprite art on nearly every piece of official merch, going so far as to add NEW costume art which is just the heads of the old default sprites edited onto new bodies? it screams cost cutting, it screams lazy, the path of minimum effort. it’s almost like the game itself and the original materials are an absolute afterthought at this point with only the most dedicated hanging on to it. i guarantee that the majority of people still playing tkrb are the committed day1 players and the actual rekijou cause it’s just painfully offputting to new fans, with other fans even going out of their way to specify the game is not integral to enjoying the series which sucks, but it’s true.
its a real damn shame to think that something you are so invested in is not particularly invested in itself. sometimes, just sometimes i wish they dev team for tkrb was more hands-on, more adventurous, more willing to listen to players, invest in the game and genuinely try and make the game the best it can be. i’m not asking for balls to the wall summer events, beautiful animated CMs from the likes of the industries best animators, i’m not asking for pages of supplemental lore compiled into books, character backstory novels or whatever i’m just asking for the lore and the characters that we love to sometimes occasionally be remembered in the actual game outside of like ... the two years between their kiwame and the vague possibility of a recollection. i want to feel like this game puts as much effort into itself as the fans do towards it.
it’s a painful truth but there’s one shining light which is that the fandom for tkrb is genuinely one of the most committed and transformative ones ive ever seen. i have never been involved with a fandom that varies so widely and puts in so much effort for these characters and this world. tkrb exists solely as a popular franchise due to the sheer legwork of the fans carrying it on their backs collaboratively. ultimately, tkrb is very very lore-light, there’s so much thats missing and the characters in-game rarely rarely interact with each other. the characters are contained solely in however many voice lines they get at implementation, their kiwame letters, and their updates kiwame lines and the only interaction they get with other swords is recollections or depending on the sword, the odd custom sparring lines.
but despite that there has been so much fan effort to explore everything in so many different varied ways, and amazingly there are certain tropes, relationships, lore etc. that have started off fanon and become canon. the fan community, especially the fanartists, doujins, writers, animators etc. being given a small indulgence by the anime is one of my favourite things about tkrbs relationship with its fanbase. that’s not to say that the fans dont give back in kind a hundred fold.
there’s so much i love about tkrb fans going out of their way to go SEE historical swords in japan, single-handedly reforging swords using crowdfunding and revitalising lots of small-town tourism having real world impact. shit makes me unbelievably happy. the stage plays and musicals are always met with warm reception and are always well attended and even though its hard to access, there are lots of western fans who have dived into a whole new MEDIUM that most of us arent really familiar with but out of their love for tkrb theyve done that. they have hosted the musical as far out as india and france, making tkrb a truly worldwide franchise and there theyve met full seats! as far out as india! then theres the fantranslators, who always have the drive the commitment and energy for the thankless work, the wiki always always is well maintained and they have new content up so fast, and there are so many people willing to help you out. even when crunchyr*ll got hanamaru s2 (i think) a week late and we were left without subs for the premier episode for a whole ass week, fantranslators who had never subbed before stepped up to translate a whole episode for FREE, encoding, subbing and timing it all despite never having done so just so others could understand the episode faster than cr*nchy themselves could. even, as well, it’s made so many history nerds out of a whole bunch of people, it’s created an appreciation for nihontou and japanese history that would otherwise probably never be in their orbit because of how inaccessible it is, especially in english. even on a personal note, i started learning japanese primarily so i could understand tkrb and the history behind it better and to read jp fanart/interact with fanartists.
no matter what, i am forever warmed by how much i love tkrb and its fanbase and im glad that tkrb is still going strong, even despite itself sometimes and i hope that moving on tkrb tries new things, and becomes better for everyone.
#rentxt#i started off grouchy but now my heart is warm#thats just how touken ranbu works babey#you know sometimes i think about how tkrb fans reforged hotarumaru and i get teared up
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Mook’s Top 10 Games of 2016
Hi, i’m back! Sorry for the delay, I promise i’ll write more. Boom, ok. Done. Let’s talk about 2016:
Shit got weird in 2016. I probably don’t need to reiterate here, but I just wanted to put that out there. Let’s just try to remember that we have one planet, so let’s not wreck it too bad, ok?
That sounds like enough Debbie Downer talk for today, so how about we talk about some games? 2016 had some pretty badass ones, so im’a run them down here right quick. BUCKLE UP!
HONORABLE MENTIONS
Devil Daggers
Overcooked
Furi
Momodora: Reverie Under The Moonlight
Surprise! It’s a Top 14! I really enjoyed these titles, but 2016 is a cruel mistress and some awesome games must be left off of the top 10. Frantic symphony of Overcooked is some of the best couch co-op you can find theses days. Furi’s style and speed is a joy to experience, and it has pretty badass soundtrack to boot. Momodora was a short, but sweet tribute to castlevania/souls with great sprite work.
And then Devil Daggers....
Actually, I liked this game too much to cut it. Fuck it.
TOP 11
11. Devil Daggers
This game is so damn cool. It doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel (It’s a 1st person Geometry Wars), but i’m a sucker for style and this game has loads. The almost PS1 era graphics give some extra oomph to the experience as you furiously dodge the spoopiest-skeley dudes. To me, this game really felt like some crazy gem you would dig up in the bargain bin of your ma and pa game store (not to sell the game short by any means).
The action is only enhanced with the leaderboards (I have a higher record than my co-host Josh, if anyone was wondering) and the accompanying replays that gave me a few ideas on how to survive just a few more seconds. It’s not the deepest game I’ve played, but this game is one that you can find yourself pouring a surprising amount of time into.
10. Dishonored 2
9. Dark Souls III
I put these two games together as my blurbs about them ended up being pretty similar. Both of games expanded on elements that I enjoyed in previous entries in the series (the combat/LORE!). Additionally, parts that I found clunky were streamlined in these entries (weapon repair/bone charm hunting). While these game were definitely improvements on their predecessors,it was hard not to feel like parts of these games were a little too familiar. Ultimately, Dishonored 2 and Dark Souls III were more of what I know I enjoy. Comfort video gaming at its best.
8. Uncharted 4: A Thief's End
While it is the final entry in a series that has gotten a little long in the tooth, Uncharted 4 finally lives up the lofty goals set by Naughty Dog; something that it’s predecessors could never quite achieve. The storytelling and characters finally take precedence over the latest McGuffin hunt, without sacrificing the jaw dropping set pieces, gorgeous scenery, and swashbuckling we’ve come to expect from the Uncharted series.This game is a wonderful coda to a great series of which Naughty Dog should be very proud.
7. Titanfall 2
This game finally made the COD style shooter click for me. All the modern shooter needed was an incredible traversal system with giant robots. Who knew? The multiplayer is incredibly cinematic, and sets up great opportunities to do the coolest looking shit ever. Like, throwing ninja stars while jet boosting from building to building cool.
As for the campaign, Respawn delivers a well crafted story that feels like an action movie crossed with The Iron Giant. It’s not afraid to introduce unique mechanics and ideas that don’t stick around too long; it’s a move that keeps the game fresh and something I wish more games would try. A very well rounded game that is just a blast to play, and I’ll keep coming back to for a long time.
6. SUPERHOT
IT’S ONE OF THE MOST INNOVATIVE SHOOTERS IN YEARS.
SUPER
HOT
SUPER
HOT
5. Hitman:2016
I always appreciated earlier entries in this series from afar. The intricate level design seemed fun, but it wasn’t enough to draw me with sluggish control and muddy graphics. I’ve only really scratched the surface of this year’s Hitman, but it forced me to readjust my ordering of the list as I dive deeper.
First all, the environments look great are brimming with detail. However, the real beauty of this game is hidden in the intricate design. The clockwork constructions IO has put together are incredible to explore and dissect. I barely made it through my first missions, but as I learned more and more about each map, the game opened up for me in ways I never imagined. The ability to masterfully manipulate the mechanics and unique quirks of each level to pull off the perfect hit is gripping.
To be honest, I’ve really only spent major time in one of the games beyond the tutorial levels. There is always a new trick or zany disguise to pull off that keeps you replaying the same mission over and over in a way that is surprisingly engaging. The core mechanics in Hitman are excellent foundation to a game that has a ton of personality too. They play it straight on the surface, but you’re only a few cans of spaghetti sauce and a crowbar away from a really good time.
4. The Witness
This game shatters the previous standards for art direction in games. On a basic level, the game is gorgeous and is a joy to simply “take in” all the varied and colorful environments. However, this “puzzle” game shines when you begin to understand how much damn thought went into crafting this world. The game asks the player to constantly rethink the nature of the surrounding environments. The art is interwoven into the gameplay with stunning intellect.
Like the art, the gameplay in The Witness is constantly challenging your preconceptions. What starts out as simple mazes become dastardly puzzles, trusting the player to build a mastery that equal parts frustrating and brilliant. This game has found a way to trigger that Eureka moment for me that is thrilling. The Witness is a game that demands your attention and thought as a player, and the payoff for that investment is incredibly rewarding.
3. Hyper Light Drifter
The complete package offered by Hyper Light Drifter made it one of my absolute favorites this year. The haunting a mysterious art; the moody and evocative score; the subtle, yet powerful storytelling. These elements combined with snappy and stylish combat (especially after the 60fps patch) create a game that I just adored. The execution on everything, top to bottom, in this game is so cohesive. Everything comes together so perfectly, it transported me into a completely different world with ease.
Not bad for a Kickstarter game, huh Ray?
2. DOOM
For a guy who’s only experience with old DOOM is Chex Master Quest, I wasn’t sure of what to make of the first reports on DOOM. Was there going to be anything for someone who didn’t have any long lost childhood memories buried in a sarcophagus with Doom Guy?
I feel foolish for ever thinking this.
DOOM is just fucking incredible. The combat has a thrilling speed that is so refreshing compared to the run-of-the-mill shooter these days. The design of the environments is masterful. The soundtrack is so damn metal, only serving to make the action feel that much more intense. The story is whip smart and is incredibly effective at delivering what the game needs to move the story while being endearingly cheeky just beneath the surface. What DOOM’s story lacks in quantity, it makes up for with the hilariously one-note Doom Guy and his 0 tolerance policy any and all demonic forces, no matter the cost to humanity’s efforts to use Hell Energy as clean/renewable energy (no, seriously). This game is just a nonstop thrill ride from beginning to end in a way that is almost peerless.
Rock on Doom Guy. Rock on.
1. Overwatch
I covered my thoughts on this game pretty well in my review last year, and not much has changed. This was my most played game this year, and it’s still a blast to play every night. New characters, maps and modes have only made the package better. This more I play this wonderful game, the better it gets. There simply isn’t a better choice for my personal Game of The Year.
Thanks for checking out my list fam. Time to start working on that 2017 list!
-Mook
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