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blorbfoosh · 2 months

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Chapter 5 -

“Imbeciles.” He growled, hitting her across the cheek, and sending her to the floor. She gasped, putting a hand to her stinging cheek. The man standing before her leered, before walking away. “Let her example be a sign of what will happen to YOU if you were one inch short of perfection. Dismissed.” He declared, snapping his fingers. She scrambled to her feet, to walk with the other workers, when a rough, calloused hand grabbed her wrist, dragging her close. “As for you... I’m not done with you yet.” She kicked and screamed but to no avail. He was wearing her down, weighing her down, and the last thing she saw before blacking out was a silver-laced grin. Aden gasped awake, scratching at her arms and torso, where ghosts of hands handled her roughly. ..what was that? She looked at her clock. 2:46 A.M. She balled her hands into fists, forcing herself to stop scratching. Where was Fr- Oh, there he was. Her beloved strawberry cat plushie, Fraysier. She held the little deity in her arms, careful not to squeeze him too hard. He was always so comforting. She hoped to free him one day. Getting up out of bed, she opened the glass doors leading to her balcony and stepped out into the chilly January night. Resting on the metal frame of the fence, she stared at the city below her. ..what was the reason for her existence? Why was she brought here? How long will this go on? She felt like nothing changed in the eight years she’s lived in Tivers- In Chandler City. Sure, people came and went, trends grew in and out of style, and her kids grew ever older. But.. She never really changed. Never truly improved from the woman she was back on the isles. That fact bit at her insides, making her shiver. She can’t sleep now, can she? Oh, well. Best be productive, right? She went in, closed the doors to the balcony, and made her way to her office. No sleep for her tonight, it seemed. Again.

Quentin took a deep huff of his cigar, putting his feet up on his gilded walnut table. His robotic prosthetic ran absentmindedly through his curly, chocolate hair, taking care to avoid the moth clip adorning it. He was bored. Didn’t fuckin’ ask to babysit his uncle’s strip club. Hellfire. Sister companies with the restobar/nightclub down the road, the Ashen Sunset. Quentin didn’t give a shit, though. He groaned, muttering about how he could be doing much more important matters if that traitor didn't steal the mouseling from under his nose. He swore he’ll find that bitch, and tear them apart. Taking his feet off of the table, he groaned, pacing around. What to do, what to-.. The moth clip suddenly glowed, spraying a little whiff of a sickly sweet scent-.. Dragonfruit? It wafted around the air, and Quentin caught it quickly. Standing up straight, he’d gently tap his moth clip. In front of him, a neon purplish light shined, weaving around the air, creating an intricate design of what seemed to be wings. The wings slowly unfurled, making a portal. Quentin grinned, hastily scribbling a note to his uncle about his disappearance. After all, he would understand. When the great moth calls, you must answer, right? He jumped through the portal, feeling the familiar sensation of wind-.. And that slight burning, like the winter winds whipping at your face. Acid. That’s how they travel around and to him. Where raindrow is, that’s where they can go with the aid of the great moth. Big T. Torah Bellerose, god of corruption, devil of greed- Past demi-god of Karma and Fortune. His boss. Landing softly on the gravel, he stared up at the large, imposing tower that stood before him. Most knew it as the casino, but to those who walk with Bellerose… They know what lies inside. Glancing up at the stone archway protruding out of the glass-covered tower, he looked at the neon purple sign above the archway which read ‘Demi’s Luck.’ Pretty damn ironic, considering who runs it. He appreciated the smooth transition from stone to glass. Pretty fuckin’ clever, the design. Walking into the establishment, he greeted the door people and took a breath, basking in the purple light. He could smell smoke of different kinds, the faint scent of certain liquids, and that sweet scent. It was strongest-... There. He maneuvered through the crowds, passing the card-game tables, the games built to rid ya of G, the cafe and bar, walking through the ballroom and up the grand staircase, leading to his boss’s office. Knocking three times on the door, Quentin fiddled awkwardly with his hair. He didn’t usually take this long to reply…

“Come in.” A gruff voice with a slightly robotic quality answered, and Quentin relaxed, pushing the door open. The office was a bright contrast to the casino. Instead of being bathed in purple light, it’s a gentle yellow instead. The floors were of grey marble tile, and overall it looked more modern and futuristic of a sort. Bookshelves lined the walls, full of ancient history and notes of something. A tall, imposing shadow loomed over a desk, dual-colored wings folded neatly on his back, large, fluffy antennae twitching agitatedly. “Good. You’re here.” The figure turned, revealing a uniquely fashionable fellow. Chocolate skin, lush, wavy black hair cascading over his shoulders- And the clothes? A beautiful white button-up with a yellow, purple, and black splattered boa, his pants black palazzos, fading to white at the feet- And white, high-heeled ankle boots. Besides the wings, other unique features include a gas-like mask, except that the canisters are filled with a bright, colorful acid, swirling around. A purple, pupilless eye stared down coldly at him, a bright sheen seeming to emanate from it, dragging Quentin in further. To o b e y. Blinking out of the trance, he saw Torah step aside, and gesture to a holographic screen. Taking this sign to step forward, he took a closer look at what was happening. He saw a humanoid drone, with peachy, yellowish skin and wavy black hair, a bang swooped to the side, hiding an eye. He had white oval glasses and a l o n g snoot. An Addi. Spamton variant, actually. That white streak told him all he needed to know. Besides the faded, dual-colored suit and white, wide-legged pants. But that shell seemed a bit too soft-.. Like a puppet.

He seemed to be getting ticked off by a customer in front of him, yapping on about something. Torah slammed a hand on the table, a soft growl escaping him. Seems like he didn’t like the Addi on the screen. “Quentin. I have a job for you. You see this puppet, yes?” “Yes, sir. Do you want me to-” The moth waved his hand dismissively, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t want you to exterminate him. I want you to go cause him pain in any and every way. Do whatever. Just cause him pain. Slow and sweet. Make him regret crossing me. The Great Moth.” Upon saying this, he placed his other hand on the table, leaning close to the hologram. Anger sparked in his eyes, and he gripped a fist, making Quentin step back subconsciously. He did not want to anger Bellerose. Oh, the stories told about who has angered the moth.. Quentin could go on about the blood-chilling tales for ages. But he had a job to do. Nodding at Bellerose, he’d take the file on the table and take his leave, exiting the casino. Finally, a job. Aleena curled around a ragged blanket, shifting in her makeshift bed in the fire exit of a penthouse. She spent the whole night maneuvering up, up, up the building, checking for places to sleep. Her magic wasn’t that strong, being a mere halfling- But 8 years of being alone honed her skill well. It just exhausted her. ..At least the skel she bumped into was kind enough to hand her some food. They were about roughly five feet, with bright amethyst eyelights, and a golden circlet. A plain, loose, dark purple blouse clothed his figure and black bellbottoms for his legs. Black flat ankle boots tapped nervously on the asphalt as they shared a quick chat. He wasn’t much, but he was nice. Aleena appreciated people like those. The world needed more kind souls. Groaning, she’d adjust her body again, before wiggling around. ..The fuck was prodding her- Rolling here and there, she’d maneuver her body around in the small space, trying to make her sleeping spot more comfortable. She’d pull out a rusty gun prototype out of the rags and shudder, tossing it at the trapdoor. It made a faint ‘clunk’ and Aleena winced, hiding under the mossy-colored blanket. She remembered hearing voices outside earlier.

The door swung open slightly, just a crack, letting warm orange-ish light stream through. Blinking as her eyes adjusted, she squinted, observing her surroundings. It was a nice room, with a medium-sized bed, peach covers making it look warm and inviting. A white sideboard drawer stood beside it, hosting a lamp and a few folders. But what she saw on the bed was more intriguing than the background. She saw a woman in her mid-late 20’s, cradling someone, singing softly to them. Her voice was quiet yet strong, reaching even to her ears. It was in a language she didn’t understand, yet it was familiar. Then, another voice joined along in the singing, and the two dueted in harmony. Utter music to Aleena. They stayed like that for a while, before the woman stood up, and left, bidding the other farewell. This was when they turned around, and caught eyes with Aleena, which made her swiftly close the door and turn around, burrowing under the thin blanket once more. The metal door rattled, and Aleena stayed stock still. Warm light bathed the cool fire exit, and a groggy voice mumbled. So.. Close. Shit. It caught on the blanket, and it tugged, slowly revealing a shell-shocked Aleena. Aleena, slowly turning to find the culprit and found no other, but the girl she followed(but lost), a few days ago, clad in a baggy hoodie and fuzzy slippers, her bi-colored hair running aloof and all over the place. She merely blinked at Aleena, before smiling warmly. Blue and green orbs sparked with interest, seeming to bore into Aleena and try and tug the past out and away. That feeling was odd. Like she was being scanned. ..This interested her. What exactly was this kid about? What could she be hiding? It was just itching at her, bugging her to go and get the information to carefully dissect it all. “...You’re pretty badass, miss.” Those were the first words that made her genuinely laugh in a long time. Her laughing made the other girl laugh as well, and soon, we had two gals snorting about nothing like sisters. The shorter, still chuckling, calmed down fairly easily and once again made eye contact with the hybrid skel. “My name’s Psyche. Psyche Olonor Vuidenne. And you?” No harm in trying. As long as she can crash rent-free, yeah? “The name’s Aleena. No last name.” Psyche nodded, her curls bouncing with her excited movements. “Well, Aleena, welcome to the fam. Not officially, of course. I’ll sneak you food and everything and you can live in secret cause I’m not sure if Iolus will allow it- And I can bring you better stuffing if you DO plan to stay in this neat little cache over here- Ooh, and then..”

Psyche tugged Aleena out of her hiding spot, plopping the latter on the lush, carpeted floor, as she rambled on and on. The walls were plastered with stickers, papers, and knicknacks, the shelves overflowing with stuff. It was beautifully messy and it reminded the elder of times gone past. Laying down on the floor, Aleena sighed, closing her eyes, letting the lull of the preteen’s ranting sweep her away into much-needed rest. Meanwhile, in a dark and wet basement-.. There was a poor guy strapped to a chair. He was unconsious, with a trail of blood rolling down the side of his head. Slowly shaking himself awake, he looked around, blearily trying to focus on his surroundings. Upon figuring out he couldn’t move, he panicked, moving more and causing a whole lot of ruckus, yelling for help.

“Tsk. Pathetic.”

A soft and silky voice echoed through the basement, the source close behind him. Straining to see who it was, he felt a small prickle on the back of his neck. He stiffened, and watched, as a slim figure circled his chair and come into sight. What he saw was surprising. A stunning woman, clad in a black bodysuit, approached him with ice blue eyes.

“Don’t try and struggle. He’ll be here soon, and I want you fresh and ripe for the picking. Obey me, and maybe I can guarantee your safe release.”

She leaned close to him, purring the last word, letting her wavy, red locks tumble over her shoulders. The chained man stiffened, glancing around anxiously.

“..y-you won’t hurt me.. Right?”

She grinned, shrugging, grabbing a blade that has a foxglove imprinted on it.

“No promises.”

Feet lightly tapped on the wet cement, as a figure ran, hopping across rooftops, eluding cameras and watchful eyes of the Starflame. He couldn’t afford it, getting caught now, getting caught again. He was lucky enough last time that the little stick figure- Nia, was it-? That it helped him. Now, no one would.

Cause he was late for an appointment.

Skidding across a sloped roof of a building, Knife swore softly as an edge caught on his jacket.

“Shit, I just bought that. Was quality too..”

He carefully removed the jacket from the protruding edge, and continued running, his target-shaped SOUL shining dully in the rainy night. He kept on his way, turning right and left, zigzagging all over the place.

He passed a confectionery with a pancake lollipop sign on it, a mall, the prestigious Tivers Academy, and an apartment building. He swore he saw someone standing at the penthouse balcony, but he was too busy to really care. Hopping down on the gravel, he turned to an alleyway, slowing down. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Knife groaned, checking the caller ID. On the screen shone a lazy doodle of a grumpy black octopus, with the name set as ‘Boss Octopussy.’ Knife snorted at this, picking up.

“Heya, Boss. Whaddya need from me?”

Shade growled into the mic, slamming his hand on the table.

“Get your ass back here now. Client did a rain check- We lost them to some company called Foxglove.”

Knife blinked at this. It was rare that there was a new company to rival theirs, and one to attract Shade’s attention. Surely they must have good stuff.

“Alright, whateva you say, Boss.”

“But since you’re out, I need you to keep on looking around. Not for places, but for anything new. I’ve been picking up reports that there’s things changing around here. Look for said things and report back to me immediately once you’ve got them. There might be some ethereal bull we can take hold of.”

Knife rolled his barely-visible eyelights, sighing. He didn’t wanna be here now, that he had no one to play with. He just wanted to be at home, arguing with Ash over useless shit, or talking with Axe. Maybe pound nice and hard into a slick-

“Killian. Are you there?”

Knife snarled at the use of his real name.

“Never left, you old man.”

“...Whatever. Are you going, or not?”

“Fiiiine… But you better be paying me something,” he purred into the phone with a smirk. Shade groaned, rubbing his nose bridge and nodded.

“Fine. But you better not be gambling it all away again.”

“Deal.”

And with that, Knife turned, setting off into the night once more. Maybe he’d go and check out the penthouse.

#inspired #oc #oc stuff #original story #drmv #original au #self indulgent #utdr au #utmv #original character #The Intertwining #Weya Allix #Omnis Prime IV #ogau #references to torture

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kaladinkholins · 2 months

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Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #just in case... im gonna tag this as #mizukemicritical #akemizucritical #though this post isnt actually criticising the ship itself but rather fanon's portrayal of the ship and the characters #for that reason lemme also tag this as #wank.mp3 #feel free to disagree of course but please be civil #and if you need to rant about how wrong i am without any convincing evidence kindly feel free to make your own post. peace and love <3 #fandom.rtf #meta dissertations.pdf #shut up haydar #edit: for full disclosure. i do rather dislike this ship. but obviously it's fine for anyone to enjoy it. please do! have your fun!#it's just that as usual! popular fanon and fandom around a ship is what has completely deterred me from any sense of enjoyment of it #it's a shame too because i was very open and even eager for some mizu/akemi romance in the future #but out-of-character fanon + the rudeness of certain fans has definitely soured it for me #but that doesn't mean people can't enjoy it obviously! ship and let ship!!!#plus it has its appeal which i DO STILL see and enjoy!!!!#i would even go as far as to call them soulmates because their narratives and characters are LITERALLY intertwined!!!#but. yeah. my gradual distaste for this ship is indeed very unfortunate.

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