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pinkoptics · 3 years

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AU-gust 2021 Prompts

3. Hipsters / 16. Hippies

Erik detests hipsters and hippies and, to be honest, isn’t even sure what the difference is, nor does he particularly care. The things he will do for Charles…

Modern AU. Still have powers. Grumpy Erik. Adorable Charles. Meet Cute. Silliness.

3392 Words

Erik hated everything about this place.

Absolutely everything.

He could write a dissertation on its failings, which were abundant.

Its first sin was being directly across from his apartment building. When he looked out his window, he saw it. When he stepped out of the lobby doors, he saw it. When he pulled his car out of the parking garage, he saw it. It was an unavoidable part of every single day of his life.

Its second sin was what it had replaced. Previously, there had been a diner. A kosher diner. A diner that had tasted like his childhood. It had been a hole in the wall, never looked quite clean, but the coffee had been strong enough to caffeinate an elephant and the food almost as good as his mama’s. Most people had passed it by. Just another slightly dingy New York eatery that you didn’t give a second thought. Quiet. A refuge for those in the know. Then came the hipster gentrification, ruining not only his precious diner, but the neighbourhood in general.

Its third sin was its name. Plant. In and of itself the name ‘Plant’ was harmless, inoffensive. Just a word. It conjured images of a vegan eatery, bistro, restaurant, or maybe if taken 100% literally, a store that sold plants. All of which would have been fine. He had nothing against plants and, sure, he ate meat (kosher meat), but happily ate vegetarian dishes as well. But no, it was not a plant store or even a vegan eatery, it was a vegan coffeehouse. Coffee came from plants, Erik knew this, so the name passed on that technicality, but it did not scream ‘coffee.’ Why not ‘Bean’ if it needed to conform to the trendy one-word-naming that had for reasons unknown come with the gentrification. It was couched between ‘Table’ (a restaurant) and ‘Sweat’ (a boutique gym). Plant did not equal coffee, and that knowledge crawled under his skin every time he saw the stylized lettering.

Its fourth sin was the coffee. Erik wasn’t particularly picky about his brew, whether at home or out. Cheap diner swill, the finest Italian espresso, the Keurig at the office, the ridiculously expensive machine that produced the perfect cappuccino at Emma’s apartment, whatever. Plant’s beans were fine as beans went, the roast satisfactory, but then ruined with its accompaniments. They carried a variety of ‘mylks.’ Yes, with a ‘y’. He preferred lattes, and would have been fine with oat or almond— if only it was spelled with a fucking ‘i’. Every time he saw the pretentious letter, he felt the urge to take a sharpie and commit as many acts of misdemeanour graffiti as necessary until all the ‘y’s were gone.

Its fifth sin was its staff. He could have tolerated their always sunny dispositions (even if it were literally impossible for any customer service employee to be that happy all the time). He could have tolerated their ridiculous hipster (or was it hippy?) apparel, moustaches, beards and hairstyles (what was even the difference between the two?). What he could not handle was the way they called him ‘friend.’ Every. Single. Time. He could count his friends on one hand and none of them worked at Plant. Their ‘peace, love and joy’ vibe made him grind his teeth and wish he had a mutation that would allow him to send them back to the 1960s.

And yet…

“Good morning friend! Amazing day, right?” It was, in fact, pouring so hard the streets were borderline flooding. “Usual? Or do you want to try—”

Erik had long ago learned to immediately tune out the suggestions, but was sure he caught the word ‘sage.’ Who in their right fucking mind wanted sage in their coffee? Yes, he was inside the loathed establishment wasting precious brain cells wondering why anyone felt the need to mess with the simple perfection that was coffee and milk. Yes, he was there often enough that the employees knew him on sight. Yes, he had a usual order.

It wasn’t his fault.

It really wasn’t.

It was the fault of a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

This shouldn’t have been the case. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The entire story more at home on the W Network or Hallmark, than in his very real, not-a-rom-com, life. And yet, here he was, having his 24th latte with mylk in a row and questioning his very sanity.

It had all started, just over a month ago, directly in front of Plant. To this day, Erik wasn’t sure whose fault it had been. He’d been on his phone, eviscerating a junior partner for a monstrous fuck up, and so livid that he was not at all paying attention to his surroundings. The blue-eyed man he’d run into, however, had claimed equal distraction, so perhaps the blame rested on both of their shoulders.

They had crashed into each other— papers flew, his phone flipped through the air and they ended up in a heap on the sidewalk, Erik atop the smaller frame beneath him. Already late for work, already pissed off with the junior partner beyond reason, Erik had been ready to re-direct his anger and tear whoever it was a new one, when the aforementioned blue eyes had arrested the words in his throat. He had admitted this to no one. Hell, he barely admitted it in the sanctity of his own mind because he was not a 12 year old girl, but a senior partner in one of the most prestigious architecture firms in New York. He did not go soft over a pair of gorgeous eyes (except, apparently, that he did), particularly when he hadn’t even seen the face that went with the eyes, which could have been grotesquely unattractive (it wasn’t).

The mouth that went with the eyes was absurdly red and absurdly kissable. The face angelic. To his eternal, internal embarrassment he had thought that exact word— angelic. He wished he could have blamed his temporary insanity on hitting his head, but having fallen on top, he couldn’t. If anyone had a concussion it was the ocean-eyed, ruby-lipped angel man. The ruby lips had spluttered apologies in a gorgeous British accent (not something Erik had until now found to be a turn on) as they scrambled off each other, righting clothes and belongings.

“Your phone!” the man had moaned. “Is it all right?”

The screen did appear to have a crack, but in another moment of lunacy, Erik pocketed it before the Angel could see and muttered something about it being fine. Instead, Erik helped him to collect the papers that had fluttered every which way, including the road, where they were already being demolished by a steady stream of vehicles.

“I hope those weren’t important.”

The man laughed, it was a very nice sound. “Not as such, no. I’m sure my students will be delighted to hear that their papers were torn asunder. They already mock me for printing them at all. I could mark them on my laptop like a proper 21st century individual, but there’s something about the feel of paper and pen that I just cannot let go of. It’s— and, as I go on and see your expression, I realize a simple ‘no’ likely would have sufficed.”

What did he see in Erik’s expression? A man besotted? Enamoured? Smitten? Any other number of words he had never used in regard to himself or anyone else in his entire life? Fuck. Erik tried to school has face into its usual disdain for the world and ninety-nine percent of the people in it, but if he was as in control of his facial muscles as he was of his thoughts, he knew he was failing miserably.

Erik handed him the last of the papers they could possibly retrieve. “I agree— about the pen and paper, I mean.” He did. As incredible as design software was these days, he always started on paper. The precision needed to draw the perfect straight lines and angles of a new building gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction in a way little else did.

“Oh, well, glad I’m not the only one who hasn’t forsaken the old ways.”

His smile.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Erik cleared his throat. “Let me buy you a coffee.”

Had he just said that?

Traitorous voice.

Was he gesturing at Plant?

Traitorous body.

He’d never been inside. On principle. Apparently, principle flew out the window for charming British men with cornflower (cornflower?!) blue eyes. The man blinked those eyes, as though not expecting the kindness.

Erik gestured at the papers. “I’ve clearly set your work back and I’ve ruined your—” cardigan. Erik blinked as his clothes came into focus. The man he was suddenly, desperately, attracted to was wearing a baggy, grandpa cardigan. Erik began to wonder if he had never woken up that morning. Maybe he was still in bed, across the street. Maybe this was a fever dream.

“Oh! I’ve dozens more just like it. It’s nothing.” He swatted ineffectually at the dirt covering one sleeve.

“Please.”

The man cocked his head. “Well… all right.”

So Erik had. In the end it had been a tea, not coffee. Earl grey with mylk. The interaction had ended there, awkwardly. Most likely his own fault. He didn’t do flirting with random strangers he’d just plowed into on the street. He didn’t generally do flirting at all. Moreover, he was now very late and had the junior partner’s fuck ups to fix before this afternoon’s meeting with their client. So, he’d left, stumbling over his goodbyes.

The day that followed hadn’t afforded much opportunity to think on the chance encounter. Not with employees to castrate and clients to placate. It wasn’t until he was home, looking out the bank of front windows at Plant that his thoughts drifted back to Blue Eyes. Which was, unfortunately, what he had christened him in his head because he’d never gotten the man’s name. Erik had gone to bed, mind clouded with thoughts, dreamt of him, and woken up with those same thoughts. Emma had always said his was one of the most disciplined minds she had ever encountered.

So much for that.

It was only a complete loss of that discipline that could possibly explain why he’d unnecessarily crossed the street the next morning and entered the obnoxious establishment for a second time, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes had immediately scanned for a mop of just overlong brown hair (yes, he’d noted that too, as well as just how much he wanted to run his hands through it). When they’d landed upon said hair, curling delightfully upon Blue Eyes’ forehead, Erik had been genuinely surprised. This clearly made the man a Plant regular, which should have been a point against him — a massive point — yet here Erik was, seeking him out regardless. Blue Eyes had looked up at him then, gifting him with a smile and acknowledging him with a nod, before returning to a set of what Erik had to guess were re-printed term papers.

Such was the story of how Erik had become a regular customer with a regular order.

Most days Blue Eyes was there before he came in, sometimes working on laptop or in a notebook, other times reading a book or a journal. Erik had caught a title once — The Oxford Journal of Genetics — which led him to conclude, that along with clearly being a professor, this proved the man must have a brain to back up the looks. Another point in his favour, as Erik had no patience for stupidity, no matter how pretty a package it came in.

Erik’s day was such that he usually needed to take his order to go. The few days where he could scrape together a few extra minutes, he grabbed his own table. He hadn’t once attempted to kid himself that it was because he enjoyed the ambience— that level of denial would have been absurd. No, it was clearly so he could spend a few extra minutes trying to stare, in a way that wasn’t blatantly obvious, at his… crush. Crush. He might as well think the word because that’s what it was. Only days after meeting him, Erik had caught himself, pen poised, about to doodle hearts on his notepad at a meeting. The mental pinch and knowing look Emma had sent his way had made him extra testy for the rest of the day. The wide berth everyone but Emma had given him was a testament to that.

And yet…

He never approached Blue Eyes. They exchanged nods, occasional hellos, but never anything more. Out of all of his out of character behaviour — and there was a lot of it at this point — this rattled him most. Erik had a reputation in professional and personal circles. He was confident, forbidding, occasionally arrogant, and brazen in pursuing designs no one else thought possible to execute. Erik went after what he wanted in life with borderline fanaticism.

He did not sit and observe from afar, mentally warring with himself, while also berating himself, for not having the balls to ask to join him, or buy him another tea, or inquire as to what he was reading. There were any number of conversational openings, but 24th latte in, he still hadn’t taken any of them. With each passing day the side of him that decided against it (or ‘chickened out’ as the nastier part of his mind supplied) became stronger and stronger. Blue Eyes hadn’t engaged with him either. Maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe Erik wasn’t his type. Maybe he was already in a relationship. The chances that he was being just as melodramatic as Erik was being in his own head seemed slim. So, Erik continued to act foolish — alternately wondering how long he would continue to do so and how good a kisser Blue Eyes might be with lips like that.

It was on latte #26 that everything changed— no thanks to Erik.

He had decided to sit at a table that day and engage in his usual ‘I’m staring but I’m not staring’ routine. He was in the ‘not-staring’ portion, scrolling through his emails without really paying attention to any of them, when he was startled out of it by the chair across from him suddenly becoming occupied.

Blue Eyes.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Wha—”

“You come in here every day. Every day. Sometimes you stay, sometimes you don’t. It’s baffling because there is one thing I know for certain— you hate it here. No, you loathe it. And, there are literally dozens of other coffee houses within walking distance. You clearly don’t belong—” Blue Eyes gestured up and down at what was likely Erik’s three piece suit, then at Plant in general, where there wasn’t a single person so much as sporting dress pants. Erik counted at least two man buns, one head of dreadlocks and a form of baggy pants Erik didn’t even have a name for. “—and I am fascinated by things that don’t belong. Things that don’t make sense. Puzzles. You don’t make sense. There is no way the coffee is that good. And yet, here you are. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Charles.”

Blue Eyes — no, Charles — extended his hand across the table and, reflexively, Erik took it, shaking it gingerly.

Charles laughed. “I don’t bite. I entirely talk too much, ask anyone, but I don’t bite.”

Erik rather wished that he did.

“How did you— my suit?”

Thankfully, Charles seemed to follow his meaning. “Oh no, the suit is only corroborating evidence. As is the way you look down your nose at everything in here. It’s your mind.” Charles tapped his temple. “Telepath. I swear to you I haven’t dug any deeper than the surface swirl of utter distaste for this establishment. Then I’d know, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be here asking.”

Telepath. Blue E— Charles was a mutant. Erik was fairly certain his knees went a little weak. Good thing they were sitting. However… what on earth could he say? ‘I’ve essentially been stalking you’ hardly seemed like an opener that was going to get him where he wanted to be. Erik cleared his throat, buying time, as those keen eyes continued to look at him expectantly. While Erik wasn’t verbose, he also never found himself at a loss for words, except for here and now, where the truth was exceptionally embarrassing.

His pause, it seemed, went on too long because Charles jumped back into the fray. “Good lord, I’ve ambushed you, haven’t I? Clearly, you don’t have to answer the mad man who mowed you down on the sidewalk and then ambushed the peaceful solitude of your morning coffee. I apologize and will bugger right off if you tell me to. However, if it helps any, I don’t like it here either. It’s trying too bloody hard to be ‘on trend,’ isn’t it? For a cultural subset who pride themselves on not being pretentious they’ve entirely failed, haven’t they? And, I’m English, I know pretentious.” He laughed self-depreciatingly at that.

A beat for his mind to catch up to the second verbal barrage and Erik finally had a response. “If you like it as little as I do, then why are you here?”

Charles’ mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise. He scratched the back of his neck and, for a moment, looked everywhere but Erik. “Blast. I’m caught, aren’t I?”

His cheeks reddened adorably. Since when did Erik find anything adorable? Since now, apparently. This man broke all of his rules.

Charles gave an adorable (christ) little shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose I best come clean.” He looked Erik squarely in the eye. “You’re gorgeous. You bought me tea. I came back thinking I’d ask you out. But you’re so… I lost my nerve. Have been doing the same daily ever since.”

“I’m so… ?”

The cheeks reddened further.

“Entirely too gorgeous for me.” Charles gestured at today’s grandfatherly cardigan. “Besides that—”

“You’re perfect.”

Fucking hell. When had his mind decided to say things without his permission?

It produced another, adorable, surprised little ‘o’. “I’m sorry— What?”

In for a penny…

“I had never set foot in Plant before we crashed into each other. Never would have because I do hate everything about it. Everything except you, who I thought were a regular—”

“I thought you were a regular.”

“— and wanted to ask you out.”

“I’d never been here before ei— you wanted to ask me out?”

They stopped, collective words sinking into respective minds.

Charles threw his head back, laughing. “If I didn’t know better—“ He tapped his temple again. “— I’d think you’re having me on.”

His laughter was infectious and Erik found he was smiling despite himself. He gave his own little shrug. “I don’t lie.”

“No, you don’t, do you? I can’t believe we both—”

“Me either.”

“This is too much. Wait… Why are we still here?”

“I’m sorry?”

Charles leaned forward and plucked Erik’s latte with oat mylk from his hand. “Can I buy you a coffee? A real coffee? Where they know how to spell the word milk? At the cafe I actually frequented before I began co-starring with you in a romcom so terrible my sister wouldn’t even watch it?”

He was already standing up, as if assured Erik would say yes, which every single bone in his body was blaring loudly for him to do. It didn’t seem to matter to any part of him that he would be blowing off work, a thought he discarded as quickly as it appeared. Just another out of character thing to add to the list. He followed. “I’m Erik, by the way.”

Charles looked back, as he collected his belongings, and grinned sheepishly. “I know.”

That was the last time Erik set foot in Plant until exactly a year later. He ordered latte #27 with Blue-Eyed Charles on his arm, after having crossed the street from their apartment, to celebrate their first anniversary. As Charles smiled at him over his Earl Gray with mylk, Erik found he couldn’t quite hate the damned coffee shop as much as he had before.

#cherik #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #au_gust #augustwritingchallenge

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rosheendubh · 3 years

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Concept AU-Star Wars (orig trilogy to first 3 Zahn/Thrawn books...reworked), Keltiad inspired star systems in conjunction with FireFly-Serenity progressing from the events of Miranda...

*This concept is sitting on my IPad in some extremely confusing stream of consciousness notes right now...

*This really is spoof filk, bringing in ultimate Evil vs Luke, and the Heroes of the Galaxy, combined with a 70s/80s/90s/2000s pop SpaceRockOpera...there will be a tavern scene where Jayne, Mal, Lando, and Han rouse it up to ‘Fat-Bottomed Girls (make the world go around...)’...

*Princess Vespa from SpaceBalls has crossed the Wormhole to entrepreneurial interests on Tatooine, buying out Jabba’s Palace to open a megaplex mall, spa, and resort with a GastroPub called The MegaMaid-still going from Suck to Blow...

*Celtic and classical myth plays a big inspire here with the Mabinigion, some Irish tales relating to the Danu, the triad of Gwythr ap Greidiol-Creiddylad-Gwydion ap Don reflected by Luke-Thrawn battling it out, and OFC, Rhyanon ferch Garwen (combo of Daenerys and Marevel’s Valkyrie-maybe Scarlet Witch-with some added nanotech/healing-biomolecular manipulation capacity-she’s a Human psionically gifted CRISPR basically...lol), as the balance between the 2...

*Mara and Karrde (eh, if you don’t picture Aquaman-Jason Mamoa in that role, you need to spend useless diversion hours perusing some Karrde fan art, and Aquaman...) are definitely in this ring...

*Rhyanon/Yana has a female lover who’s a Dathomiri witch based off Kalinda from ‘The Good Wife’ (b/c I love Kalinda’s character...sultry/confidant/intelligent/all around kick-ass female...)-Yana does become Luke’s lover eventually-after a good bit of angst and animosity-there are complicated sexual tensions and emotions running all through this thread...again, Mara...

*Am I the only being in the multiverse who envisions Zoe Washburn and Lando Calrissian interacting...potentially in a romantic way? She needs some comfort after Wash’s death...

*This tale involves a Wormhole of course, drawing the distant quadrants of the Terran Federacy and The Republic Alliance-Galactic Empire together...

*and Vader-Anakin survives the DeathStar-while he’s not necessarily Evil Vader, he’s also not entirely benign Light Side either. He resides on Dagobah in self-imposed exile, due to the years of PTSD wrought by the war crimes he’d committed-Ashoka there as his mentor/ally as he reconciles a new role-still devoted to the Sith, and opposing the revival of the Jedi Order of the OldRepublic-wanting his son and daughter to understand the corruption, stagnancy, and ideological prejudice which had inundated the old Jedi order, necessitating it’s downfall-believing a more enlightened path possible balancing the nuances of Dark and Light to be less exclusionary and restrictive than the Old Order had become...

*Luke still holds a military position within the Republic Alliance a Fleet Commander now, occasionally leading squadron assaults, but now on his own battleship—“while he was no king, he fought beside the kings of Britain”—drawing some inspiration from Uther (Anakin), and Arthur (Luke), and Aella (Thrawn)...

*Zombie-looking Luke in the ArtManip isn’t DarkSide Luke in this version. More like Luke, sacrificing himself-simultaneously combining forces with Thrawn, who’s tapped into an extremely ancient prototype archaic genome (oh, that was my own conception, but I realize ‘The Expanse’—perhaps the finest example of modern Space Opera ever, combining Science with Fiction, and a lurid and lyrical storyline, deploys a similar concept—nothing new under the sun, as they say...) he Uses for hybrid clones (think ‘Alien’ here...), which have become increasingly powerful and difficult to control, while buying the Empire military superiority vs RepublicAlliance. Thrawn inoculated himself with the nucleic acids, which has brought on an expression of new powers over matter/time/space influencing the presence of the Wormhole, and the primordial creature behind it-and the new hybrid creations existing in a sort of multidimension DarkMatter/AntiMatter state seeking to colonize and spread across the galaxy now that they’ve been awakened. The Terran Federacy/Firefly segment has also discovered these archaic genomic sequences, which ties in with the creation of the Reavers, and the fallout from Miranda...and River Tam’s part of the travesty of a tale...

*Luke, in a stand-off with Thrawn, and the *unnamed Primordial DarkMatter Creature dating to the beginning of time*, is wounded, mortally, by DarkMatter creature (otherwise, cheekily referenced as QKZM-Quantum Kracken Zombie Monster), and the only way to prevent his death-more like Total Zombie TakeOver as he‘s assimilated into the QKZM’s hybrid beings-is for Yana, with her own powers over the manipulation of genetic molecular structures, to join with Thrawn in allowing *archaic genome conscience* into Luke’s body-sort of Pirates of the Caribbean-like with the heart of DavyJones providing a sort of cursed immortality. Problem is, Luke can only now reside in the dark places/planets which have been annihilated-and seeded with—the hybridized DarkMatter beings, and in the weird parallel shadow dimension where the DarkMatterAncientGenome Being inhabits. The purpose here is that Luke returns with Thrawn/abducted to this OtherWorld-UnderWorld in order to stymy the malignant spread of the nearly unstoppable QKZM, which places Luke in a perpetual state of using the Force to keep from being completely transformed into a minion of QKZM, while he and Thrawn try to navigate the DarkMatter dimension-trapped in the wormhole destroyed by the explosion of a fusion drive-which has also severed the connection between the Quadrants...Thrawn’s particular alien constitution makes him resistant to being completely dominated by the archaic genome mutated with his own biology...

*Yana, with River-Leia-Mara (like the 3, or 4 Queens of Avalon, who escort Arthur’s body back to the Otherworld), are left with trying to repair the massive devastation wrought across the galaxy, while trying to find some way of restoring the trans-spatial anomaly (Aka, Le’ Wormhole...), and Yana-in a reverse Eurydice-Orpheus kind of spin, ventures to find some way to follow Luke into that dark plain, and retrieve her lover-this involves ancient UnderGround pools on Earth That Was/Old Terra, which exists in a sterilized portion of space called the Wasteland (like that Arthurian theme?), now a blasted out expanse of light-years devastated by a massive surge of radiation flaring from a huge SuperNova 500-1000 years before (relating to the human inter-stellar diaspora alluded in the FireFly universe, with my own added strokes...)-as well as ancient trees existing in subterranean pools-yes, DarkSide Tree on Dagobah is a part of the web found on various planets, and is subsequently nicknamed Yggdrasil-wherein these ancient arboreal pools hold protoplasmic genomic sequences, but of less nefarious design than the DarkMatter Entity trying to conquer the inhabited galaxy (implied MilkyWay...)-all dating from the great cataclysm of the Universe’s creation. This segment inspired by the fact that it’s Rhiannon in the tale of the Mabinogion, who pursues her son, Pryderi, into the Otherworld w/o hesitation-as well as Inanna who dares the 7 Gates of Hell to prove her worth as Queen of Heaven-and the ancient tale of the goddess, Freya, who wept tears of amber pursuing her lost husband-lover, Svipdaeg-Odr (variance of Odin), across the world to return him to her side...

*I‘m sorry?

#Star Wars #Luke Skywalker #Rhyanon ferch Garowen #Mara Jade #Firefly #Crossover

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kanohivolitakk · 3 years

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Have you done Krekka for the ask game? I know you're a huge Nidhiki fan, curious if you have any thoughts on his partner?

I haven't gotten Krekka yet actually. So far I only done Toa Ignika and Axonn for the Bionicle ask game (which Im still accepting). That being said great choice. Krekka isn't necessarily a big favorite of mine (partially because I'm not that fond of the "dumb brute" archetype barring a few exceptions), but I have to admit I do have a soft spot for the big guy. Krekka is a relatively simple character when it comes to characterization/backstory/role in the story (especially when compared to Nidhiki), but that doesn't mean I don't have any "deeper" thoughts regarding him or that there isnt stuff worth discussing.

Anyways some thoughts/headcanons/general musings:

This is a weird thing to start with but... Krekka is kinda adorable for me. I think its kinda this ...overgrown puppy (bulldog??) vibe due to his loyalty and dumbness. I admit BOADH is a big reason for me feeling this way since it gave him a few moments that made me go "AWWW he's so cute". Just..love his loyalty so much.

His undying loyalty makes him stand out for me across the other dark hunters. While many dark hunters we ha e are opportunistic and schemy, Krekka is just...very loyal. Maybe too much so. But I love that he is loyal. Feels refreshing tbh.

And now I cant help but feel that TSO is just "guys stupid but at least he wont double cross me and is easy to keep in check" when it comes to him.

Not to go woobifying villains but I genuinely dont think the guys that bad. Hes just really stupid, overly loyal and doing his job. Its kinda like w Lariska being a decent person despite being a knife happy murder girl although to a much lesser extent since guys a literalminded fool and also just smashy boy.

I do like his backstory of being a former guard who lost his job and started wreck havoc until one day a dark hunter found and hired him. It isnt anything too complex but it works well for his character and explains why he is so loyal to Dark Hunters. It also helps bringing a bit more light to his homeland and I love when we get more info of places through character backstories, makes the world feel more real that way.

Also can Gorast please stop hurting charaxters I like. This is the reason shes my least favorite character in the 2001-2008 storyline that isnt just a glorified extra or a plot device.

When it comes to Krekka, one scene I always think of when I think of him is in BOADH where he temporarily forgot to fly and Nidhiki was just "WAIT A MOMENT LARISKA TOLD ME YOU CAN FLY????" and Krekka just goes "whoops I forgot". That was adorable honestly. You dumb idiot, forgot you could fly.

Also, I know he's kinda "the idiot character", and while I am NOT saying he isn't, I do think its worth pointing out that he's basically literal minded. In BOADH (again) when Nidhiki tried to do that training scenario Krekka basically was like "wait I’m here, there’s nothing there why should I move there". This is

Another thing I really like about Krekka is that how, despite being an absolute idiot and tool, he still is willing to sometimes not take Nidhikis bullshit, see preventing him from getting the Zamor launchers (geez BOADH did a lot for this guys characterization lmao)

I sometimes call him truck boy because his name is one letter off my languages word for truck.

Also unless canon/word of Greg says otherwise I don't think every member of his species is as stupid as him. Like possibly on similar level but still.

It is made pretty clear that Nidhiki couldn't stand Krekka at all, but I do genuinely wonder how Krekka feels about Nidhiki. Based on the little we have I'd say he liked him to some extent or at the very least, didn't hate him to the same degree. I also have to wonder how aware he was about Nidhikis haterd towards him.

I also love the idea that when Nidhiki was mutated, Krekka just...wasnt afraid of him at slightest, no fear in this dumb boy. (I also like the idea he didnt recognize him at first and Nidhiki just, had to explain to his thick skull who he was. It took a while but eventually he got it.)

On a related note, I find it interesting how the LOMN website describes him working with Nidhiki because guy knows where to get the good jobs or something rather than being his goverment (read TSO) assigned partner The way the twos relationship were described makes it feel that by this point the staff hadnt figured out what they wanted to do with Dark Hunters , or if it even was an organization or just these two tools.

Its really interesting for me how Krekkas characterization not only varies between the books/comics (where hes more intimidating and him being a simpleton isnt as pronounced) and the movie (where hes more of a dumbass) but also how his characterization evolved. Like, his loyalty wasn't that pronounced trait but now I feel its just as important part of him as him being a dumbass (which is to say, very interesting)

I remember how the aftoermentoined Metru Nui movie website described that Krekka hated toa to the point wouldve hunted them for free if Nidhiki didnt make sure the two would get paid. I feel this is somewhat early installment weirdness as it isnt mentioned anywhere else but at the same time Krekka being willing to fight without payment sounds 1000% in character if you ask me

Something I have been confused over: when exactly was Krekka recruited to the dark hunters??? The timeline is very vague about this and I wish we knew.

It's been AGES since I watched my home countrys dub of LOMN but what I recall I really liked Krekka's voice in that dub. He sounded more badass and I loved it, the VA had a pretty unique sound. Sadly dont think there is any clips of the LOMN dub, which is a shame. UPDATE: I rewatched the dub and I love the voice itself but felt the voice direction made him sound kinda inconsistent

This is more a "Nidhiki and Krekka related thought" rather than just Krekka related but one thing I really like about Krekka and Nidhiki is that how they are like a more serious and competent take of "those two evil henchmen with contrasting personalities" trope. Often these types of villains are rather goofy, but these two could be rather dangerous as well and I really like that. I also like their dynamic of just doing Nidhiki being done with Krekkas bullshit. One of the main reasons I wish LOMN was a miniseries rather than a movie is because I really wanted more screentime with the two.

On a related note can I JUST SAY I LOVE the way the two compliment/pararell each other. From design (Krekka being bulky mostly blue colored, Nidhiki being slender and monstrous, mostly green colored) to personality (Krekka being foolish and simpleminded but loyal Nidhiki being cunning and ambitious but treacherous) to powersets (Krekka being strong physical attacker, Nidhiki being weaker(??) but faster and more special attacker).Heck, even their backstories have similarities as they both lost their orginal purpose in one way or another and didnt have anywhere to go but Dark Hunters (the main difference being that Nidhiki inflicted his fate upon himself by betraying the toa while Krekka didnt really do anything iirc)

Now for something crossovery, Krekkas and Nidhikis dynamic reminds me a lot of Kronk and Yzma from Emperors New Groove. Yes I have drawn a parody of the "pull the lever kronk" meme, yes I intend to make more screencap redraws. They also remind me a lot of Mummymon and Archenemon from Digimon 02, partially due to the dynamic (smug spider that tries to be cunning and intimidating but gets outclassed by most other villains in that + loyal blue dumb boy) partially due to their ultimate fate being rather similar.

I don't know how familiar you are with the franchise, but Krekka reminds me a fair bit of Gamel, one of the four villain generals in Kamen Rider OOOs, mainly because "the dumb brute major villain that's kinda cuteish and loyal a f while everyone else is an asshole".

I remember reading a p good oneshot fic that was just him accidentally killing a civilian when all he wanted was a hug and...honestly that is p much what I imagine him being like. Guy may be strong, reckless and a fool but like I said I dont think hes all that bad and just a puppy. An overgrown, moronic puppy but a puppy nontheless

For AUs, I remember I have thought once of "What if Krekka survived but Nidhiki died" and just ...guy wouldve been very lost and confused and unsure what to do tbh. He would most likely returned to Dark Hunters but Mata Nui knows how say TSO wouldve felt about that. Its not too complex au yet but I am thinking of developing it further one day.

Thank you for asking.

Sorry this took longer than expected. I had too many thoughts and half of them were deleted so. I hope its worth the wait tho. I do have a lot of Krekka thoughts and tbh wasnt sure if I was even able to get them all here.

(I am still doing the ask game so if anyone wants to send me a bonkle I will try to give thoughts, meta and headcanons on them)

#ask game #bionicle #Krekka

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italian-pastry · 4 years

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Rambling about the Family Tree

Here’s the Family Tree!

And under the cut is all my rambling about designs or whatever! (this ended up not being about designs too much. Hm)

OK WE NEED TO BE ORGANIZED HERE I’ll be going generation by generation, from left to right. Everyone will be here, just for organization sake. Of course, some people are more important than others, so be warned for long rambles (in generation 2 especially) OK LET’S GO

Generation 1: Iida Parents: Idk man. They don’t even have designs. They’re probably cool Enji: He doesn’t deserve to be drawn well :) That and he doesn’t deserve to meet his grandkids :)) Rei: She deserves to be pretty and be a cool grandma. Her grandkids adore her. Hisashi: This mans is kinda wildin’ in my universe. Whatever he’s up to, it’s not being Inko’s husband. Inko: Soft grandma!!!!! We love her and she loves her grandkids and husband. Toshinori: He deserves to retire and settle down and be happy with his family and be adored by his gandkids. Emiko’s Father: He and Yukie got married (and Yukie got pregnant with Emiko) almost right out of highschool. He expected Yukie to give up her career to care for Emiko, but that didn’t gel with Yukie, so she divorced him when Emiko was little. Idk where he is now. Yukie: We love her. I love her. She’s super sweet and super cool and super short and that’s all you need to know. She also looks a lot like Eijirou (or, at least I tried to make them look similar) Crimson Riot: I subscribe to the Dad-Crimson theory, so here we are. After Emiko started elementary school, Yukie tried to get her career back together, but after meeting and having a thing with Crimson Riot and getting pregnant with Eijirou, she gave it up to be able to care for her kids. Nadie: An American journalist who moved to Japan for work! She and Yukie met and got married when Eijirou was 9-10. She has 3 kids from her previous marriage (that ended in disaster). Christopher Skyline: (Yes, THE Christopher “Captain Celebrity” Skyline. We’re just ignoring the Vigilantes canon over here.) Nadie’s ex-husband and the father of Hanae, Etsuko, and Suzume. He was a serial cheater, and the kids was a desperate attempt made by Nadie to try to make him stick around. Sperm Donor: Just a sperm donor. Mitsuki: Still looks SUPER young. She doesn’t like it when her grandkids call her “Grandma” or anything like that because it makes her feel old. Masaru: Loves being called “Grandpa” or whatever by his grandkids. He loves them, and likes to visit them a lot. Mika: Still quiet and chill. We love her. Kyotoku: Still loud and fun. He’s a cool dude, and he got them smile lines Beru: Her head is weird. I’m sorry queen, but it freaked me out. Ganma: He freaked me out even more. He was my least favorite to draw. Sorry bro. Uraraka’s Parents: Her dad reminds me of my dad (vaguely). They don’t have names, but they’re cool. Also, Ochako was able to get them a nice house, so good for them. Shouta: Just go look at @nartothelar‘s Silver Fox AU that was my main inspiration. He a grumpy old man who only likes his kids and grandkids and family. Hizashi: Same thing as Shouto. I like to think that all of his hair has grayed, so his hair is like Platinum Blond now.

Ok! Gen 1 done, and it was mostly me rambling about Eijirou’s parents. Maybe one day I’ll dedicate a post to them.

Generation 2: Tenya: I had him grow his hair out because 1.) I thought it was cute and 2.) it represents him loosening up a lil’ after school. He wears contacts during Hero Work, but wears his glasses casually. Tensei: Literally just the same dude. He’s Tensei and he’s chill and he’s cool. Dabi: I gave him an eyebrow piercing and a fun new cut. (Fun fact: That’s his Fantasy AU fairstyle) Fuyumi: I hope her hair looks very Teacher-y and Motherly. I think she looks super cute. Natsuo: A simple dude. He finds a cut that works and sticks with it. Although I did give him sideburns and a lil’ touch of beard. Shouta: Instead of shaving his red side, he combs the white side over it. Also, I hc that in his left eye, he’s half blind. Izuku: Yikes. He got the wound early in his hero career. He went blind in his right eye, so he and Shouta together are like 1 and 1/4 blind. Emiko: Eijirou’s older half sister. I would say she’s Girlboss and Natsuo is Malewife, and I think that’s accurate - even if only a little. She’s a social service worker, and met Natsuo in college. I had an old design before, but I like this one A LOT more Eijirou: I am a simp for long hair Eijirou, so here we are. ALSO freckles!!!! I love freckley eijirou. Also stubly beard and cool new scar. He is very dad. Hanae: The chill little sister. Probably a lawyer or professor or something smart like that. Etsuko: The crazy sister. She works in the hero field! If as hero support or as an actual pro, idk yet! Suzume: The ex-crybaby sister. She’s prolly doing something fun and artsy. Also, HUGE demigirl vibes Kane: The energetic little brother! He has most certainly gone pro, since he’s like very early 20s now. Fun Fact!: He was 6 when Mieko was born, so a lot of people thought they were siblings. It only got worse when Akio rolled around. Katsuki: hehe Undercut Bakugou. Also, hearing aids! I put his eyebrow scar there so he and his hubby are matchy matchy. Actually, both of their scars are pretty matchy matchy.... huh. Also, I’m totally not saying he was invloved in the fight that gave Izuku his scar, definitely not. Mashirao: STOP SAYING HE’S PLAIN AND ORDINARY. HE’S BEAUTIFUL DAMMIT. Every time I draw him I think about how darn pretty he is and that he could be like a KPop star or smth Tooru: It’s tooru! Super fun lil’ lady. What a queen. Mina: Look at that kick-ass scar I gave her. It’s what she deserves. Although, that eye may be a lil fucked up. Ah well, at least it looks cool. Yuuga: LOOK AT HIS HAIR. I am so happy with how it turned out! He so pretty. He and Mina are DEFINATELY Girlboss and Malewife. Hado: Also a simple lady. Prolly also needed to stick to her brand of long hair. She still super pretty tho. Lowkey disappointed I didn’t give her the stereotypical Anime-Protag’s-Mom hairstyle Haya: Completely shaved her head, and got more piercings! Like, 100% more Punk Rock. Itsuka: FRECKLES FRECKLES FRECKLES. And short hair!!!!!! Sigh, I love her. Tetsutetsu: I tried to make him look like Ejirou, even if just the face structure. I like how his hair and scar turned out tho. What a lad. Mezo: What a cool dude! Got a sick nasty scar, but covers it with his hair. I think, even with a majority of his face covered, he is still very handsome Miya: She has a name now!!!!!! What an icon. She’s a Hero Costume Designer, and she has a spider mutation. Wolf Spider, specifically (I think). She is so adorable and spunky I love her. Momo: Short hair!!!!!!1!1!1!11! God, what a goddess. We love her so so so much. Also, she gets to have a cool scar, too Kyouka: While she’s in UA, she straightens her hair, but after she graduates, she doesn’t care abt it. Momo rlly likes it curly. She also has that thing going on where you shave all of ur head except for ur bangs (and the side thingies). Oh! And eyebrow piercing! Satsuki: Pretty! Also, I made sure that all the girls who would’ve been 6-7 during the current time all had ponytails now (Satsuki, Etsuko, and Eri) Samidare: He’s super cool, and I decided to give him long hair to make him cooler. Also, Demiboy vibes, anyone? Tsuyu: A queen!!!!!! I love her so much!!!!!!! When her hair is down, it reaches to her shoulder blades. Ochako: SHE LOOKS SO BADASS I AM SO HAPPY. Look at her, with those cool scars, and that cool hair! What a queen! Mirio: Classic Mirio! Tbh, idk if I’ll give Mirio his quirk back. Like a lot of the stuff in the recent arc I’ve ignored, soooo......... Tamaki: He has SO MUCH HAIR. It ridiculous. Since growing it out, he uses it to hide behind if it’s left down. So Mirio likes to do stuff with his hair and make it look cute. Nikko helps, too! Eri: A queen!!!!!!!!!! Idk if she’ll be a Pro Hero or doctor that specializes with pro heroes, but I want her to be happy and help people! Hitoshi: Hanta and Denki weaves flowers into his hair a la Rapunzel all the time. The braid is really loose and shitty a lot of the time tho. Ah well. Denki: Because I moved his black stripe to down the center of his hair, my little sister keeps calling Denki and Race Car. And I agree. He got those scars because he was able to train himself to really not fry his brain anymore, but that means if he overloads, his electricity escapes some other way, so through his ears and into his face. Hanta: That scar was very strategically places because I am a firm believe that Sero will uncannily resemble Shouta when he gets older. I hadn’t done a really good job at that tho....... hm.

Gen 2 is done!!!!!! It was my fave generation to draw UwU. I’m not sure what to say with Gen 3, since I’ve already talked about them a lot. Jeez, idk. I’ll think about something to ramble about later.

@questionableholidayreally Tozen rlly said “I am literally just vibing ;)”

#Long post #bnha #bnha fankids #bnha next gen #I still cannot get over the fact that I drew 84 faces #like #damn #If u have any questions or just wanna yell at me just slide on into those asks! I'm happy to answer!#Born And Raised #Mha Born And Raised

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tcoyd · 4 years

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I want to tell you a little about the undertale project. The game is already dying out, but somehow I should make my own contribution, for the first time in my 4 years in this game.

And its name: Rock and Roll Sympfony. (there may be mistakes, my English is still bad)

Description of AU

Rock and Roll Symphony is an alternative world of undertale, in which time is ahead of ours, but people's mores are sliding into an even greater abyss. People have found a way to enslave their own people through what everyone likes and listens to at the time of the events of the world. Music became a way of enslavement. The only music allowed to be listened to was the classic, in which low-frequency soundtracks are inserted that change the perception of people. Subsequently, people decide to get rid of the monsters that vehemently "propagated" everything that was not pleasing to people. War is unfolding and monsters are imprisoned in dungeons.

Frisk escapes from the horror of the human world by complete accident and his own inattention, but the world under the ground intrigues and pleases her much more than the world of people: harmony and freedom reign here, from which Frisk first demolishes the "tower". Frisk, after recovering from injuries sustained during the fall, begins to explore the dungeon, telling the monster the unpleasant truth about people and about the genres of music that she owns. The monsters tell her about what she did not know. I don't want to go back, I want to stay in the dungeons.

But one turning point makes Frisk think about going back. It comes when the Boatman is taking Frisk to Snowland ...

"Half of the way the boatman was silent, the road was long, slow and boring. There was almost no current. Frisk thought about what was happening on the surface, the thoughts of her mother and her friends left to their own devices did not give her rest until now Jos-Lowe takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

—Want to come back? - the Boatman begins the dialogue, as if reading the thoughts of young Frisk.

- Huh? Oh ... I don't know ... I miss my family, friends ... They were left alone.

- And ... What prevents you from returning? When you reach the New House, the King will find a guide on how to open the barrier. And business, nothing at all.

- Yes, just a little ... - Frisk laughs, having already forgotten what a smile is for 18 years in hell. But the smile immediately disappears, she remembers what she had to go through. - It's not even that. I don't want to go back to hell. My society ... Far from being an example of beauty.

- You know, when we were still on the surface, I heard the following phrase from you: “We create our own destiny”. So why don't you follow it? I do not know what exactly is going on there, but I can say for sure - you are not alone in your ideas. And if you start, others will be drawn to you. There may not be many of you, but if you do not back down, if you are full of determination in your hearts, you will definitely manage. And if there are many of you, even more so. You yourself can change your fate, and maybe even the fate of the world and the country .... The main thing is to start.

Frisk doesn't answer, thinking. The boatman stops at the shore. The girl comes out and, having paid, drags into the Ruins. She really wondered what she could do in order to change her own fate and the fate of other people, the fate of her family. "

This seemingly strange and short conversation fills her heart with hope and her soul with determination. She finally decides to act in full force.

Detailed plot and scenario of the world in development

Characters

Protaganist Name: Frisk Jos-Lowe

Race: Human

Location after the fall: Ruins

Soul: Weak Determination *

the soul of weakened determination tends to both fade and flare up. If the owner of the soul loses hope and faith, the soul goes out, acquiring a dirty reddish color, almost not shining. If the owner of the soul, on the contrary, is full of hope, faith, spiritual strength, the soul flares up with blood-wine, pulsating and shining brightly. The soul is not resistant to fusion, the fusion of the souls themselves are fragile, perish and fall apart quickly enough.

Appearance:

(detailed reference in development)

Other main characters

! not all characters have received their appearance yet, some are at the stage of early concepts and are superficial, some do not have an appearance at the moment, the article will be supplemented and updated!

Name: Asriel Dreammoor

Race: monster

Place of residence: Ruins

Soul: white, with a red light inside, inverted. *

* Each monster has a light inside, referring it to a certain type of human soul. Inside Asriel's soul is a red light, determination.

The soul of a monster cannot be completely filled with the power of a human soul, the soul melts under the influence of force, after which it dies

Appearance:

Name: Toriel Dreammoor

Race: monster

Place of residence: Ruins, New House

Soul: white, with a blue light inside (soul of decency / honesty), inverted

Appearance:

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Asgore Dreammoor

Race: monster

Place of residence: Ruins, New House

Soul: white, with an orange light inside (courage), inverted

Appearance: A goat-like monster, 215 centimeters tall, an average physique man without prominent features of the figure. The coat is white, interspersed with orange on the face, near the eyes, cheeks and horns, on the body there are spots on the forearm, shoulder, torso, under the ribs. Fiery red hair, short haircut, small beard. Long, curled back horns. Emerald eyes. The king most often wears two types of clothing: an official classic black suit with black shoes and an orange shirt, a tie with a magnolia image. A raincoat of neutral gray with a bright scarlet image of a magnolia on it.

His second suit looks like soft brown pants and a soft lilac sweatshirt.

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Flowey / Bath

Race:??? (presumably a monster, refers to the type of plant Ipomoea Batat, it is not possible to say for sure if Flowey refers to a monster)

Residence: The root of the flower garden is in the Ruins. It can move around the entire dungeon except for Snowfall, does not withstand low temperatures. "Eyes and ears" in all areas available to him

Soul- -

Appearance:

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Chara Dreammoor (before the fall of Hirsch)

Race: Human

Location after the fall: Ruins

Burial site: Ruins

Soul: Rotten Determination *

* the soul, at first glance, is no different from the usual, canonical determination, except for the huge black spot of obsession, shining from within. Any soul, both human and monster, can rot.

Appearance: not designed, only mentioned in photographs in the Drimmoor family album

Name: Sans (Jonathan)

Race: monster

Place of residence: Snezhnegrad

Soul: white, with a blue light inside (decency / honesty) and small inclusions of rot. Jonathan's rot is laziness and frivolity.

Appearance: A low, skeletal monster, about 160 centimeters tall, in a formal black suit with vertical white stripes, a white shirt with a raised blue collar and a relaxed black tie. A black trilby hat appears on his head in time. The inside of the eye sockets is painted in blue magic. It seems to many that he "tints the lower" eyelid "" because of the appearance of the eye sockets. No pupil

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Papyrus (Ryan)

Race: monster

Place of residence: Snezhnegrad

Soul: white, with a blue glow inside and small blotches of rot. Ryan Rot - Vanity

Appearance: a tall skeletal monster, about 190 centimeters in height, in silver armor, dirty and worn in some places. The skeleton does not deny itself and still wears a red long scarf, frayed at the ends. On the "face" of the skeleton, a "smile" is frozen, which makes his skull seem extremely welcoming. There is a crack on the back of the skull from a blow to the head. White pupils shine in the eye sockets.

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Undyne

Race: monster

Place of residence: Waterfalls

Soul: white, with an orange light inside (courage)

Appearance: (detailed appearance in development) amphibious monster about 175 centimeters tall, athletic build. Both eyes see. There are scars on his face, and Undyne can open his mouth much more than meets the eye. Nice girl face. The nose is present, as are the gills. Hair is collected in a cockle. On the hands, from the hand to the elbow, there are fins, on the fingers there are membranes and rather long claws. Scars and pieces of small scales have been torn off along the body in many areas. She is dressed in a loose hoodie and jeans, buttresses on her legs.

Belongs to the class of the ancients, has quite a lot of power

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Muffet (Rosie)

Race: monster

Place of residence: Hotland

Soul: white, with a yellow light inside (courage). There is rottenness

Appearance: monster spider, about 155 centimeters tall, three arms, one pair of legs

Long, waist-length, soft pink hair, two pairs of sky-blue eyes. A predatory smile with large fangs, the "skin" is pale pink, a pair of sharp horns protrude from the head. She is wearing a long scarlet haori, underneath a T-shirt and white shorts. The fingers on the hands are abnormally long, with a large number of rings. On the back there is a birthmark in the form of a cross. Wears nothing on his feet

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Mettaton

Race: monster

Place of residence: Hotland, Labaratoria

Soul: white, with a faint blue light (patience)

Appearance: not designed

Name: Alphys

Race: monster

Place of residence: Loboratorium, Waterfalls

Soul: white, with a green light inside (kindness)

Appearance: a small lizard-like monster with a height of 163 centimeters. It is a white-colored leopard of Diablo Blanco with red eyes. Alphys has a mutation, due to which soft needle-like outgrowths go from her head to the coccyx, along the spine, from large to small. She has a rather neat and "juicy" figure, hidden under a voluminous black dress and lab coat.

(detailed reference in development)

World locations

Locations are still divided into:

Ruin

Snowland

Waterfall (Waterfalls)

Hotland

Laboratory

New house

Added to them:

New Los Angeles (part of the human world)

Summit Abbott

Lost city (part of the dungeon)

Ruin

The structure of the corridors is almost the same, the traps are removed as unnecessary, one room has been added. The walls resemble brick in color. The room where you can buy Muffet donuts in the game canon now houses a small Muffet art gallery, there is also a table with muffins and tea.

(The spiders offer to buy paintings for a fairly large sum, but when you buy you will be offered muffins and given the painting. When she meets Muffet, she will thank you for your purchase and invite you for tea.) The walls are in ruins in cracks, through which Flowey vines sprout. The ceiling is covered with vines, and there are many fallen leaves on the ground. The paths are paved with stone that has aged over time. The conservation room is in a much better condition, instead of signs with inscriptions, stained glass windows with the symbol of the royal family (Magnolia). In the middle of the hall there is a huge tree up to the ceiling, large branches of which have grown all over the ceiling, and thin branches, like those of a birch, hang down. The leaves are scarlet. At the edges of the room there are bunches of Flowey vines that bloom profusely. There is still a save star between the steps to the exit. Instead of a pile of leaves, there is a small music bench. On the two side walls there are three columns, on which notes are written in a spiral. There is a small vine wall next to Toriel's house. If you move the vine aside, you can see a secret room, dotted with a field of bright blue flowers. There is a tombstone at the wall opposite the entrance. It reads "Chara Dreammoor. Beautiful daughter and best sister. 2040-2067"

The Ruins is home to many small monsters. Froggits and many others, they do not change their appearance. In the Ruins, Frisk still meets with Nabstablook. This is a small ghost of a slightly blue hue, with pink eyes. He reacts to Frisk in a very frightened way. After a little dialogue about who he is, the ghost dissolves with a bell ringing.

Snowland

The difference in appearance is created only by the large number of frozen trees and large flowers, sometimes even higher than the houses. The main square is hung with Chinese lanterns attached to houses and fir trees in the main square. The square is the brightest street in Snowland . On the outskirts of the city there is a bright casino "Golden lake", next to it is a hotel with the same name. Grilby owns both his Grilby Bar and the Golden Lake Hotel and Casino.

Minor Characters:

Grilby's appearance:

The appearance of his daughter, Fuku Fire:

Fuku and Grilby are ancient monsters and are quite powerful. Fuku helps his father at the casino.

Waterfall

There are many tall shrubs and Echo Flowers in the Falls. The corridors are not very different. There are many crystals on the "ceiling", creating the appearance of the stars. There are many reservoirs with water lilies and waterfalls. There is a pier near the mill where you can meet the Boatman or the Monster. Undyne's house is two-story, with a circular roof. There is a small field of echo colors next to it.

Minor characters:

Boatman:

a tall monster in a long black robe with a hood. He has abnormally long arms and a stooped back. His face has never been seen, it is hidden behind a mask of an animal's skull. Branched horns stick out from the head, and the pupils, glowing white from under the eye sockets, always look inquisitively. Many monsters call him the Wendigo, a man-eater who hunts for human sins. Who knows, maybe he is ...

Monster Kid:

a small lizard-like monster with yellow-red scales, wearing a large brown sweater.

Hotland

Not fundamentally altered. There are a lot of Flowey vines on the platforms, in some places, the most dangerous, she created dense railings and handrails. Hotland is almost empty. High temperatures do their trick and it is very difficult to be there.

Laboratory

The laboratory is in much better condition. The laboratory is bright, clean, fully equipped with everything Alphys needs for experiments. Amalgamates look like Siamese monsters. Bodies have a denser structure, when asked about their state of mergers, they vaguely answer about good health and they have all the conditions for a comfortable existence.

New House

The corridors have not been modified. The windows of the houses glow, the panoramic view of the castle seems to be brighter.

Many small monsters live in the New House.

Summit Abbot

Overgrown with plants and grass, rather dark, filled with a large number of stones, it offers a view of the now far from sunny Los Angeles, in which it rains almost all the time.

New Los-Angeles

Frisk's house and the location that the monsters will enter after liberation. Los Angeles is divided into two parts: New and Old. Old Los Angeles resembles the architecture of the 20th of the 21st century, it is considered a poor area. New Los Angeles is a high-tech neighborhood with skyscrapers and flying cars. A huge number of people live in it, who are far from all happy with the release of monsters.

Lost city

The story is told on behalf of the shocked Frisk, who accidentally found this place.

"When Asriel and I got there, the first thing we saw was a large number of cages. It seemed to me cages at first glance, only several hundred times larger than a normal bird cage and made of stone. Some were suspended from above, others from below ... Many more stairs! They connected almost every building!

There is almost no land, all these cells. And, if there is land somewhere, it seems to be suspended on huge chains from the nearest walls. And, which seemed strange to me, it was light there, although I did not see a single source of illumination, it was very windy there ... But, perhaps, we made this wind by opening the passage. Oh, there were still ribbons! Or not ribbons ... As if scraps of something, there were a lot of them ... There ... There was also something like a mosaic with a legend signed under it ... I didn't make out much ... It was looks like Latin ... But ... With some other dialect ... If not for my panic that neither I nor Asriel know this place, I would have been able to try to make out and translate at least something through associations ... "

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pendragonfics · 5 years

Text

messes and confessions

- ̗̀ Bruce Banner Bingo 2019 ̖́-

Paring: Bruce Banner/Reader

Square filled: domestic au

Tags: female reader, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Adorable Bruce Banner, Anniversary, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life

Summary: There's an anniversary coming up, but __________ isn't that sure if everything's okay in her relationship.

Word Count: 2,702

Current Date: 2019-09-18

Instead of going into a life of fighting crime with your abilities, you focused on your studies, travelling abroad. That’s how you met Dr Banner. Even though he couldn’t technically die because of his Green Friend, he insisted that you saved his life in an attack on the Pakistan-India border. And since he was perhaps the most loyal man you’d ever met, he insisted that he had a sort of debt to you.

To that, you asked him to buy you a drink.

Not to outdo you, Bruce persuaded you to return to the U.S with him. And in the subsequent year, you did the milestones with him, eventually moving into the Avengers Tower together. But despite it being a year together, it still felt like the early stages of the relationship. Being with Bruce after all this time still left you wondering about his feelings. He wasn’t the most vocal about intentions, but the doubt crept up, and took a hold of you.

When you couldn’t sleep, you’d snuggle with Bruce until he fell asleep, and then you’d sneak from the covers, and float to the roof. Your mutation wasn’t exploitable, and without military training, it was more of a quirk than a superpower. It was more comfortable sitting upside down. With your head lowest to the ground, hair falling from your eyes. It was more natural to you, coming easier than staying grounded. Sometimes, you even fell asleep up there, but you’d never let Bruce wake to find you above the bed rather than in it.

When he was off on missions, you’d try and get as much work done as you could on your commissions, but the path of freelance never did run smooth. Your mind would always be cluttered with so many thoughts. Often you spent most of the time asking J.A.R.V.I.S. questions that could have been sourced from yahoo answers, or better yet, a therapist. But the disembodied voice never breached confidentiality, and you got some traction on what to do.

“Can I borrow the team card?” You sat beside Tony with a smile.

He huffed. “What, no sweet talk? Usually, people are more conspicuous when it comes to borrowing money.”

“I’m not like most people,” you replied with a flourish, “and if I was loaded, I wouldn’t need to do the humiliating task of asking for money when I’m on below minimum wage in your own residence.”

“Touché.”

“So?” you pressed, growing nervous. “Come on, Stark, I know you can spare fifty bucks.”

He blinked at that. “You just want fifty dollars?” he rephrased, incredulous. He dug in the pocket of his jeans, and withdrawing a designer wallet, he presented a metal card into your hands. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

---

Before living in the Avengers Tower, you had a dinky apartment beside a guy named Pete who you suspected was a street fighter. Apart from the fact you barely made rent there, moving in with Bruce was a godsend. Life in the Tower was great, to an extent - central location, fantastic wi-fi, walls that weren’t caked with mould and grime. The downside: living with the other Avengers, who are wonderful! It was just a little too much to fight over cereal with Thor and Captain America.

Scuttling to a warm spot, you sat with your laptop in the living area. The window was the wall, and the view from this far up was terrifying, to say the least. But if you didn’t look down, the sunlight on your back was enough to keep you focused on your task.

In a week’s time, it was your anniversary. You’d been racking your brain for what you’d get him for months now, but every time that you’d conclude on something to get him, you’d either chicken out of it or see him with a similar thing a week later. You tried everything, to no luck.

That was until you traipsed upon a DIY gift shop. It was meant for independent artists to sell their works through, but the further you dug into the site, you realised that it was mostly used by fans and admirers of topics, making things for niche audiences. Which is how you stumbled onto the sweater. User green-Man had made artwork for the item, which to the untrained audience, read as nonsense. Bruce had a weird sense of humour; you really, really hoped that this gift would fit his niche.

Hence, Stark’s card.

You had just selected the shipping when you heard the door open. Swiftly, you finished the process, and shoved the laptop aside, and hid the credit card.

“Hey,” you looked Bruce up and down, taking him in. “You’re back early.”

“By a day,” He sighed, making his way toward you on the floor. He wiped a hand over the scruff on his face and gave you a look which you read as both content and tired. “We tied things up quicker than we thought.”

“Did you -,”

“Yeah.” He sighed, taking a seat beside you, curling into your side.

Bruce Banner was a grown man. He had been through some terrible, horrible, no good things in his lifetime. He had seen some things which people should not have to see and had things done to him that no person should ever have done. He’d defied death in a laboratory and lived precariously with a persona that took a toll on his psyche. To the kids who bought the Hulk dolls in their Avengers set, he was a hero. But to you, he was a man, a man with the world settled upon his shoulders, and without anyone to share the burden with.

You hoped you could be the person he could share it with, but it seemed not.

“Do you need anything?” you asked him, softly. He made a noise into your shoulder, the softest grunt, and you smiled, “Just say what you need, and I’ll try my best.”

“This is good,” Bruce murmured. “…but I should shower before I pass out.”

“I’ll run us a bath,” you say, and kiss his cheek.

As you walk off, he says something. You don’t quite catch it, but it makes your heart flutter a little.

---

You’re vacuuming the ceiling the day before the anniversary, because last time you walked on the roof, you had no idea your feet were so grubby. Bruce is sitting in the armchair by the window, reading a novel. You’re sure he’s just re-reading the same line in repetition because there hasn’t been much page-turning going on. Just as you switch off the vacuum and return to normal gravitation, there’s a notification on the panel by the door that Tony installed.

It’s basically a fancy way for you to know if anyone’s waiting for you in the lobby, have delivery food, etcetera. But you’ve been waiting on this notification for days and as soon as you hear it, you clamour to get downstairs.

“Is everything okay?” Bruce asked, looking up from his book.

“Oh yeah,” you reply, shoving shoes on, trying to keep a poker face. “Peachy keen.”

You practically skid down the stairs, as the elevator is being too slow for your liking, and you make it down before the postal service worker has left. You know each other by proxy; you shop online (because going out in real life is a drag when there’s next day delivery) and they still have a job. They give you a smile before leaving, and you unlock the box for yours and Bruce’s level of the Avengers Tower.

“Yes!” you whisper, thrilled.

You take the elevator up, feeling slightly out of breath. As you near your floor, you tuck the package under your sweater, suddenly realising that you had no other way of hiding it as soon as you walked back in. Bruce would most certainly be curious as to what made you sprint like a madwoman at the notification of a package. But before you make it to your floor, the elevator stops.

“Hey there Moon Walk,” Tony beams, hitting the button to your floor.

You look to him with a strange look. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Gravity, 2013.” He replied, smug.

As the elevator stopped, you watched as he entered your floor like he owned the place. Well, he did own the place, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t knock. Would it kill him to ask, even? Maybe you were just being antsy because of the whole anniversary present thing.

Bruce is on your laptop. He blinks, looking between the pair of you - his teammate, wearing a suit at ten in the morning on a weekend, and his girlfriend, with a strange lump under her sweater. Bruce looks like an animal caught doing something they shouldn’t be, but before anyone can speak, he finishes up what he’s doing, and closes the laptop.

“Hi, Tony,” he says. “Do you need anything, or…?”

The Iron Man strolls toward Bruce, placing a hand upon the back of the chair he sits in. You’d take the time to hide your package that’s growing warm under your shirt, but Bruce looks a little uncomfortable, and you linger.

“Just my card. I’m spoiling Pepper to brunch on that new restaurant with the -,”

“I thought I gave it back to you,” you say, and add quickly, to divert attention from Bruce, “Pepper told me about that place. There’s an old gelato shop she likes, a block away from it.”

“I Scream or Piccola?” Tony asks, distracted.

From the corner of your eye, you watch your boyfriend relax, not the centre of attention anymore.

“Piccola.” You move, standing at the opposite side of Bruce’s chair. “Enjoy brunch.”

You look steely into Tony’s eyes, noticing something is going on. He wouldn’t come in just to brag about a date with his fiancé, at least, not without more spectators. The genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist looks you up and down, as if he’s J.A.R.V.I.S., and not the bodiless voice, and smiles.

“Thanks,” he beams. Snagging the card from Bruce’s lap, Tony leaves the room. But not before he turns back and flashes a bright smile. “and Big Green? You and the Upside Down’s anniversary is today.”

He closes the door before the pair of you can admonish him.

---

“It’s today?” Bruce asks, face pale. He buries his face in his hands with a groan, your laptop falling to the side of the chair with a harmless plunk. “I had it bookmarked as tomorrow!”

You chuckle, tucking a rouge curl behind his ear. “He’s messing with us.”

Bruce mutters from his hands, “I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“Babe, it’s tomorrow in USA time, but don’t forget we hooked up in India,” you remind him, sinking to your knees. In the moment, you forget that you’re hiding the package, and it slides out from your sweater unceremoniously, making a noise as it hits the hardwood floor. You don’t notice it, though. “Like I said, he was messing with us.”

Bruce groans. “Even if he is -,”

“He is.”

“- I’m always afraid of screwing up,” he confesses, voice so very soft. You realise that there’s tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he squinches them shut tight, gripping at the bridge of his nose to keep them from falling. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Bruce, I love you so much, why would I lose you?” you ask, unsure.

He looks down into his lap, fiddling with his fingers. He takes a deep breath, and expelling it, meets your eyes. “…apart from Betty, I’ve never had anything serious, and I’ve never felt like I do with you.” He explains, and inhaling, he breathes, “You have no idea how much I love you. How much I’m afraid of him -,” He cuts himself off, expectant that you’ll say something. “- that he’ll take you away.”

But you just sit on the floor, watching him. If bodies could mimic the extent of the emotions you had inside, Bruce would see your eyes, wide and sad and unsure.

“Bruce, babe,” you stroke his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. “Despite the fact that Hulk and I tight, I’m not going anywhere. We’re unbreakable.”

He swallows.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, but you can tell he’s shaken, “Tony really set me off.”

“I can see,” you lean forward, and kiss his lips, his cheek, the shell of his ear. Each kiss is slow, is deliberate, and with every time your lips brush his skin, you feel his demeaner return from panic to composure. “Seeing as we’re here…how about we celebrate both days?”

“Of the anniversary?”

“Hell yeah,” you smirk. “Let’s treat ourselves.”

Going for the package under your shirt. It’s then you realise it’s fallen, and ever the hero, Bruce picks it up for you. He regards the mail bag; it’s fire-engine red, with your name on the address label.

“…it’s for you,” you smile, watching his face, “you can open it if you like.”

He tries to open it where the drag tab is but ends up tearing the plastic bag. Birthed from the sack comes his gift; the sweater you bought online. You hoped he liked it; unfolding it, Bruce regarded his gift, rubbing his thumb over the printed image on the centre of the sweater. It’s fan artwork of the Hulk’s face in MS Paint, rendered in a lovely way reminiscent of 8-Bit art, with the words ��Lemme Smash!’ in text below. A smile broke out on his face, and he laughed.

“I love it,” he beamed, and untangled its arms as to wear it. It fit him, and the image fit snugly across his chest, thank goodness for universal sizing.

“I got you something too,” he says. He takes the laptop back to the centre of his lap, and opens the screen wordlessly and looks to you with a smile.

Your face drops.

“You - you,” you felt your mouth grow slack, “You spent fifty million dollars?” you whispered.

“Yes,” Bruce says, taking your hand in his. You felt your pulse quicken at his touch, at his words, and you bite your lip in anticipation, and he adds, “Officially, Tony signed off on it.”

“Won’t he notice that millions have gone from his accounts?” You worry at your lip, unsure. Usually, Bruce was the nervous part in the relationship, and now you are! Oh, how the turn tables have - “I mean he asks for every dollar I borrow back.”

“Babe,” Bruce nuzzles your ear with his mouth, kissing the skin there lightly, “Apart from the fact that this is the money I’ve made in the last year working as an Avenger, Tony signed off on it himself…” Bruce grins, “and there’s a press release about it being filed by Pepper’s assistant in about -,” he refreshes the tab, and a new thing pops up. “Now. And now neither of us can’t back out if it.”

“…what did you spend fifty million on?” you ask, quietly.

Bruce’s face grows warm with a crimson blush. “I didn’t say?” he asks. “…it all went toward the charity we were working on in India. Hopefully it keeps them afloat for a while.”

“Do you know how much I love you right now?” you ask him, feeling a little giddy.

Bruce smiles. “I can fathom it, a little.”

You laugh. “Why is it I never get to see your mischievous side more often?”

“Oh, it’s just for you,” he replies, softly, and closing the laptop, he adds, smooching your cheek with another of his kisses, “besides,” he breathes, “what’s fifty million to a multibillionaire?”

“How about,” You meet his lips with your own, “what’s a scientist to his lover?”

---

“I can’t believe I let him sign off on this,” Tony grumbled at brunch.

“Tony,” Pepper put a hand over his, rolling her eyes. “Don’t forget that you’ve done more ostentatious things for me, none of which involving charity and multimillions,” she hushes.

“I’ll donate sixty million dollars right now,” he retorted.

“Oh really?” she teases. “I don’t believe you.”

“…let’s get a raincheck on this date,” he mutters, standing up abruptly. “I’ve got to make a few calls.”

#bruce banner #bruce x reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner/reader #Bruce Banner bingo 2019 #Avengers #avengers x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #bruce banner bingo 19 #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #Female reader

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mirohed · 5 years

Text

han jisung | better off dead (i’ll be juliet)

{ HAN JISUNG + GENDER NEUTRAL!READER }

zombie apocalypse au, college au, best friends to lovers

fluff, angst

10.5k

playlist / title insp (yes it’s a thg fansong from 8 years ago)

content warning: this work contains the following: copious amounts of swearing, the mention and underage consumption of alcohol, the mention and use of weapons (guns, knives, blunt weaponry), descriptions of violent acts, and character death. read at your own risk.

a/n: happy 100 (technically 107) days to me and jisung 💓💓 special thanks to @tyongu for screening this fic and giving me the motivation i needed to pick this fic back up from its 5 month long hiatus && to @offonoffs for being a fellow member of jisung nation & expressing interest in this fic ,, it means a lot.

reviews are greatly appreciated !

You used to think that zombies weren't a realistic sort of monster—not as real as climate change or capitalism, anyway. They were better suited to being enjoyed from the comfort of your couch as you curled up with a bag of chips on a Friday night.

This, of course, all changes the night you get that fateful emergency alert.

You're at Chan's house when it happens. He's invited you and the rest of campus to his frat house for one of his famed end-of-semester ragers. He spots you not long after you enter, catching you in a one-armed embrace, full cup of beer in hand.

"Hey, glad you could make it! The night's still young, but Felix said he'd set his Switch up for some Smash up later. You should join them if you get the chance." A girl from your communications class (Ryujin?) calls out to him, waving him to join her and a few unfamiliar faces for a game of beer pong. "Sorry, duty calls. If you ever get tired of the beer, you know where to find the good stuff," he says, shooting you some quasi-finger guns and leaving you to fend for yourself.

You slip past a few couples pushing themselves up against the walls on your way to the kegs, and fill a cup of your own. Minho's there, leaned against the refrigerator and taking small sips of his drink. "Surprised you haven't switched to Woojin's vodka yet," you joke.

"Usually, I have no qualms about...sampling, but taking from him's a death wish." Taking another sip, he grimaces. "If that means putting up with the cheap shit all night, I'll take it." You mumbled an "amen," knocking your matching red cups together in a toast. You both regretted the swig you took.

"Yeah, I can't do this." You dump the shitty alcohol in the drain. "You know where Jisung is?"

"No clue."

"Damn. Well, if you manage to find something to sample, give me a call. I'm gonna go find him."

You scour the entire first level of the house, weaving through clouds of marijuana and vaguely cotton-candy scented vape juice. Unfortunately, your best friend is nowhere to be found. You don’t bother trying his phone; if he was drunk (which he probably was), all you’d get in response would be unintelligible cheers as he “gets his party on.” You ask around for a bit, but each new set of directions sounds more ridiculous than the last. (You're still not sure if Yukhei was drunk and fucking with you or being completely serious when he said Jisung wasn't at the party at all. You wouldn’t be surprised either way.)

You call it quits after about a half hour, trudging upstairs and feeling both hungry and a little sorry for yourself. Sure, you had other friends, but the one person you wanted to get wasted with was nowhere to be found.

As you head upstairs, you notice the bathroom door is wide open. A glance to your left is all it takes to see Hyunjin kneeling on the bathroom tile, puking his guts out as Jisung rubs his back in a feeble attempt to provide comfort. You make eye contact with Jisung, and he nods his head in the direction of Chan's room at the end of the hall. "'Lix set the Switch up, but Hyunjin's busy being a lightweight." He shoots Hyunjin a withering look, but Hyunjin's too preoccupied to notice. "Take over for me? He picked Isabelle, and we both know how bad I get my ass kicked when he does," he grumbles, helping Hyunjin stand on both legs. "We'll join you guys in a few."

You're planning your victory against Felix (Jisung probably picked Lucario for the "cool factor," which didn’t mean much when all he did in rounds was button mash and hope for the best) when your phone goes off, loud and insistent. Jisung's goes off less than a second later, with Hyunjin's buzzing on the bathroom counter. Based on the way Felix pokes his head out of the door, phone in hand, you can only assume he got it too.

The official alert glares up at you, a few simple sentences in all capital letters.

EMERGENCY ALERT

ZOMBIE OUTBREAK. THE DISEASE IS CONTAGIOUS. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

You exchange a look with Jisung and Felix, all seeming to share one thought: This is bad. You had heard news of this disease before; highly contagious, with nonspecific symptoms that were often misdiagnosed until it was too late and necrosis set in. Scientists had found out that it was a mutation of a disease that was supposed to have been eradicated a century ago.

Even people that were updated with their vaccinations could catch it; it was transferable via bodily fluids. If someone infected so much as got a drop of saliva or sweat on you, you were at risk. ("Just goes to show you what happens when people don't vaccinate their fuckin' kids," Minho had said, changing the channel to a rerun of Friends.)

Chan shuts the party down, kicking everyone sober enough to walk out and housing the wasted. He urges them all to find shelter and head for safety as he waves them out. "Listen, if you ever need anything, I'm just a call away," he tells you as you return to your dorm.

Seungmin, the frat's designated driver for the night (that’s a lie—it was supposed to be Changbin, but he conveniently “forgot” and left the job to Seungmin), gives you a ride back at Jisung's request. ("I'm not letting you walk back and get infected," he had insisted, arms crossed.)

The first thing you do after getting home is call him. You spend most of the video call packing your bags, just in case, tossing cans and clothes into the biggest bags you can find.

"I'm starting to think those apocalypse planners had the right idea," you say, trying to cram another bottle of water into your bag. "I could use an apocalypse bunker right about now."

Jisung dries his freshly washed hair, draping the towel around his neck. "Maybe we should beg them for shelter."

"Maybe."

“Remember when we had that plan to build our own bunker back in high school? I wish we never threw those plans away.”

“Wasn’t it you that was like ‘we’re never gonna use these, what’s the point?’” you tease, voice dropping an octave to mock Jisung. “I, for one, always thought they were a good idea.”

“But you let me throw them away!” You put down the shirt you’re folding and plug your ears, shouting that you can’t hear him. He calls you a child, but the conversation makes you feel better about what might happen after tonight.

You’ll be fine, you tell yourself as you lie awake that night. This is just in case things go to shit.

Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t even take a full week before things go to shit.

"Get in!" Jisung shouts, driving down the road at a reasonable enough speed for you to keep up with. You don't bother asking why he has a horde of zombies chasing (hobbling, really) after him. Instead, you sprint behind him, tossing your bags into the truck bed before leaping on yourself.

"Where'd you come from?" you ask, panting as he hits the gas and barrels down the road. There are a few bags, full to bursting, in the trunk with you. "The city?"

"Yeah. We're going back." Your head cranes to look at him from the glass window at the back of his hand-me-down pickup truck in surprise. "Felix is out there somewhere, and we're not leaving him behind. Chan took the others, and we're meeting up with them after we pick 'Lix up. I called Chan earlier, so the cell towers should still be up by the time we get there."

"Can't we meet him halfway? No offense, but if we go back, we're gonna fucking die."

There's no compromise. The ride's silent, save the wind whistling in your ears as Jisung drives as fast as he can (it takes him awhile to realize he can go way over the speed limit; what are the cops gonna do, stop him?) Going back might not be a bad idea anyway; he needs more fuel to keep his truck up and running, and you don’t know about him, but you’re not exactly prepared to hunker down for the long term.

It's absolute chaos in the city. Buildings burn in the distance, smoke billowing out into otherwise clear blue skies. Corpses of the undead (who are now, with any luck, actually dead) litter the streets. People have already gone feral, welcomed the lawlessness of the new world with open arms. You turn down familiar streets and see families in a hurry to leave their homes and get out of the city as fast as possible.

"You stay here," Jisung says, parking across the street from the nearest megamart. You can barely make out the action going on outside the store, but you don't think there'll be much left for Jisung to take by the time he gets there. "Call Felix. I'm gonna see what I can take."

You sit on the roof of the truck, Jisung's worn old baseball bat (now outfitted with barbed wire) in hand. Trying not to cut yourself on the sharp edges, you call Felix.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god. I was scared the cell towers were already down. Where are you?"

"I made it to the outskirts of the city. There's a house up here. Jisung'll know where it is, we come up here all the time.”

“Alright. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, just a little shaken up, of course,” he laughs. “Didn’t think this was how I’d be spending my time after finals.” You murmur an agreement, and he continues talking. “Don't waste your battery, alright? See you guys soon." He hangs up, and your fingers itch with the urge to text someone, make another call, but Felix was right. It's not like Instagram's up right now; everyone's got bigger things to worry about.

After what feels like an eternity, Jisung comes running with a full backpack and...a suitcase?

"Where's Felix?" he pants, handing you the heavy suitcase and tossing the backpack in the back of the truck.

"He's in a house on the outskirts of the city? He told me you'd know where it was."

"Should've known. We gotta haul ass, though—I might've pissed off, like, a ton of people." Your eyes widen; there is, in fact, a group of angry people headed your way as you take a seat in the truck bed. Jisung floors it before any of them come close, letting them eat his dust.

“Where is this house anyway?” You’re yelling over the wind, but Jisung catches it nonetheless.

“The frat’s been going there for years, I heard. It’s some tradition to get shitfaced there for initiation, so we all had to go and drink whatever Minho gave us. I must’ve blacked out, because I barely remember it. We go up there sometimes, when we need to get away.”

You leave the city and go off-road, running over new grass. There's a house you've never seen before at the top of a small hill, and it's there that you see Felix. He's managed to attract one of the damn things, but he's definitely holding his own against it, landing a few impressive roundhouse kicks on it. He's whacking at it with a metal rod when you drive up the hill, but the zombie catches on and turns it into a game of tug-of-war.

Wrenching the rod away, he returns to kicking at it, staggering the zombie with one good hit to the ribs.

But the zombie seems to have caught on to that too, and it's as you pull up to the house that it grabs onto his leg and sinks his teeth into him. Felix cries out, his skin punctured and blood dripping onto the grass underfoot. He tries to yank his leg back, but can’t seem to summon the strength, his other leg hopping about to maintain balance.

Now that he's injured, the zombie drags Felix closer, clawing at his head before—

You can't watch, and neither can Jisung. There’s a sickening crunch, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The next thing you see is Jisung running the fucker over. A distant part of you wonders if that's bad for the car, but it doesn't feel like you're there in the moment at all.

It's like you're watching the whole thing from a third-person view. You see yourself leap from the truck bed as soon as Jisung shifts the truck into park. You can almost see the seed of unease, of we're-so-screwed begin to sprout in the pit of your stomach.

You can’t tear your eyes from Felix’s body. He’s lying face down (thankfully), but he’s stained the grass red, his leg twisted at an odd angle. You can make out the scratches along the side of his cheek from here, skin broken and bleeding.

It’s red. It’s all red. Everywhere you look, it’s—

And then you're back in your own body, throwing the car door open to yell at him. "You fuckin' idiot!" you hiss. "Why'd you do that?" Definitely not the right thing to say, but you can't take anything back now.

"What do you think? I killed it before it could kill us." He ventures into the house, purposefully shoving past you with a harsh bump of his shoulder. You follow despite his clipped tone and tense shoulders. Together, you loot the house. Jisung seems to know where everything is, handing you everything from bags of chips stored away to bottles of whiskey. (You're about to ask about the alcohol when he mutters "Molotov." You figure it's not the only use they've got.)

You come upon Felix's pack. It's the backpack he used during the school year, most of the space taken up by his clothes. Jisung shoulders the bag wordlessly before turning to leave. All you can do is follow behind.

You watch the sun set as the busted speakers play some playlist he must have put together. (You admit it'd be a good road trip playlist if not for the fact that you were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.) His knuckles are white against the wheel, and part of you wants to talk about what happened, but you take one look at his clenched jaw and hold your tongue.

Night falls. The two of you camp out in some crop-bearing fields. He starts a fire and speaks for the first time in hours.

"Do you want to take the first shift or should I?" He's looking right at you, but there's none of the usual light in his eyes.

You think that when Felix died, part of Jisung died with him.

You end up taking the first shift, judging time based on the occasional glance at your phone. You keep an eye and an ear out, watching the fire frame Jisung's sleeping face in subtle orange.

He doesn't want to talk about it, you tell yourself. And who would? You're not exactly eager to bring the topic up yourself. You lean back on your hands as you try to think of anything except what happened to Felix.

Before long, you nudge him awake. He's a little disgruntled, but you bug him until he sits up. "Yeah, yeah. I'm up. Get some rest." You curl up in the sleeping bag (Felix's sleeping bag, but you're still trying not to think about it) and shut your eyes.

The fire crackles lowly. You hear Jisung's bones crack as he stretches. You don't sleep.

When you crack your eyes open after god knows how long, the sky is still dark. "Can't sleep?"

"What do you think?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, just a bit. You swear you hear a faint chuckle. "You know we have to keep going, right? Without..."

"You can just say it, you know. Without Felix. Without our best friend."

"Yeah. Without our best friend." You cast the sleeping bag aside, staring at the flames. He pats the grass next to him, and you crawl over to his side. When he wraps an arm over your shoulder, traces meaningless patterns and letters into your arm, you don't complain. Maybe you even lean into his touch, knowing that it might be you and Jisung versus the world for awhile.

You think you're fine with that.

When the sun rises, you and Jisung make plans to meet up with Chan and the others; there's some safety to be found in numbers, after all. Neither of you mention having to tell them what happened to Felix.

Jisung calls Chan. Then Minho. Then Woojin. Then Seungmin. Then Changbin. Then Jeongin, who's still in his last year of high school, but is an unofficial member of the fraternity regardless. Then, as a last resort, he calls Hyunjin. Nobody picks up. Changbin and Minho's phones don't even ring, instead kicking him straight to voicemail. "Maybe their phones died," you offer.

"Disappointed, but not surprised." He pockets his phone with a huff. "The cell towers are probably down. How's the radio?" You've been playing with the radio while Jisung tried calling his friends, trying to find a signal.

"I'm about to rip out the stupid dial and crush the damn thing under my foot, but other than that I'm good," you snipe, throwing him a look and a fake smile. You turn the dial all the way in one direction, more than a little annoyed at all the static you seem to be catching. To your surprise, you hear broken, unintelligible chatter. You move the radio between you two, chasing after the signal.

"-vivors...proceed to... -ary base...infec... -on entry...supplies will be rationed...gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached." The message cuts out less and less as you fiddle with the radio, and once you wait for the announcement to repeat, the full message plays.

"Attention, all survivors. If possible, we ask that you proceed to the nearest military base or encampment. The military will be on patrol to execute zombies and the infected as well as rescue clean civilians and bring them to the nearest base. All civilians will be checked for infection upon entry and routinely throughout their stay. Supplies will be rationed for as long as possible. Gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached."

You and Jisung exchange a look as the message plays once more. When he breaks into a wide grin, you mirror it with a smile of your own. "We're saved!" he cheers, wrapping you in a big hug and knocking the radio on its side. You relax in his embrace, sighing into it. You don't make any moves to break the hug, and neither does he, even after it stretches on longer than a hug between friends should.

"One problem…” you start, voice muffled as you speak into his shirt, “where's the nearest military base?"

There’s a small hospital up ahead, the white building stark against all the browns and greens you two have been seeing the past few days. “Should we check it out?” Jisung asks, eyes flitting to you. “You never know when we’d need medicine or bandages.”

“No. Before you ask why, I know we’re gonna run into zombies. I can feel it in my bones.” Jisung flattens his lips into a straight line, clearly unhappy with your verdict.

“Your bones don’t know shit.”

“Picture this: first semester of our freshman year of college, right before midterms. You’re barely passing your world history class because you don’t go to lecture. I help you cram for two days straight and tell you I can feel you getting an A in my bones,” you say, clenching your fist to emphasize your point. “When you get your midterm results back, you got an A, not only on the test…”

“...but in the class,” Jisung finishes with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, fair point. But what if you got hurt and I couldn’t save you because I didn’t have the medicine for it?” He’s pulling into the parking lot, but doesn’t shift the truck into park. You can still talk him out of it.

“Then you just let me die? It’s not that deep. Like yeah, it’d suck, but at that point there’d be nothing you could do.”

His voice is so earnest that it forces your eyes to snap to him. “We both know I can’t do that.” There’s something behind his words, an undercurrent carrying a feeling you can’t name. Carding dirty nails through his hair, he gnaws on his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna risk it. Besides, it’s out in the middle of nowhere. I doubt there’ll be too many zombies. You sure you don’t wanna come with?”

He stares at you, and you groan, giving in. “God, park the truck somewhere more discreet. We both know I’m gonna have to bail your ass out anyway,” you sigh, opening the glove compartment and withdrawing the knife Jisung had nabbed from the frat house’s kitchen. “Might as well come with and save myself the trouble of going in there to find you.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grins, and you feel like you’ve been played.

The inside of the hospital’s dark and completely devoid of that sterile scent you don’t want to admit you liked. Instead, there’s a musty smell that pervades the building, and your nose wrinkles as you take deep breaths in an attempt to get yourself acclimated to it. “Stay close to me,” you tell him. “I don’t want you wandering off.”

“You think I’m gonna get lost? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

He doesn’t respond, instead muttering something under his breath. “Whatever. Let’s see if we can find something.”

You creep along the corridors, breathing as light as possible. The whole hospital seems to be moth-eaten and abandoned, but you’re not sure if you and Jisung are alone or not. The rooms you enter are a mixed bag; you manage to get to the small cafeteria and bag some soon-to-be stale chips as well as several bottles of water, but you don’t get much in the way of medicine.

“Where do they keep all the medicine anyway?” you ask, turning away from the spoiled ice cream in the mini freezer, nose wrinkled. The light bulb goes off in Jisung’s head, and he smacks his face with his hand.

“The pharmacy. They keep the medicine at the pharmacy.” You take a water bottle and make as if you’re going to whack him with it when you hear a noise. Both you and Jisung tense at the clattering of equipment from outside the cafeteria. You two stick your heads out the door, Jisung scanning the left side and you scanning the right. The coast looks clear, so Jisung leads the way out the way you came.

You’re almost home free when you spot a zombie ambling about at the end of the hall, back turned to you. Jisung holds up his palm, signalling for you to stop moving. “Okay, what now?” you ask.

“It’s just one zombie,” he starts. “Give me the knife, I got this.” He hands you the backpack with everything you’ve looted, and you hesitate before giving him the only weapon you two have. He sneaks up on the zombie, getting closer and closer…

And then it rears its ugly head, letting out an ugly gurgling noise that scares the shit out of you. One arm’s in a sling and the other hangs limp; you don’t think broken arm would bother the undead too much. It charges, quicker than either of you were expecting (did zombies that were athletic as humans keep that athleticism?) and almost smothers Jisung, who loses his balance and falls hard on his hands. He manages to roll to the side in time for it to knock its head against the smooth tile floor.

“Change of plans,” he says, zombies dressed in scrubs and hospital gowns alike beginning to come out from the corner of the hall, “we’re leaving!” You help him up, slamming your heel on the neck of the zombie that almost attacked Jisung. There’s a satisfying crunch, and then you two are off, turning corner after corner trying to escape.

You don’t stop running until your feet hit cement instead of tile. You don’t stop moving until you’re both in the truck, trying to catch your breath. “You were right,” his voice is shaky, and you take his hand in yours, squeeze it in an attempt to calm him down. “We shouldn’t have gone.”

Even after his breathing returns to normal, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

You're not sure when things start to change between you and Jisung. Maybe it's when you catch yourself staring at him as he drives, right hand on the wheel and the left resting on the lowered window. (He insisted on keeping the windows down as much as possible; the air conditioning in his truck was busted, “just like the rest of the damn thing.”)

Maybe it's when you stop bothering with arguments over who takes the couch and who takes the bed. You've slept in the same bed before, sure, but that was when you were children. You remember the night it started, not long after the trip to the hospital:

You wake up with fingers already tangled in the sheets, a cold sheen of sweat on your forehead. Every blink of your eyes treats you to the sight that haunted your nightmares: Felix, one of your best friends, with eyes gouged out and flesh hanging from his cheek as he opens his mouth so wide his jaw unhinges. His tongue sits lamely in his bloody mouth as he lets loose an unending wail—

You can’t stay here. You force yourself out of bed and find Jisung still awake, staring down at his hands in the darkness. He seems to hear you coming, because he says, “You too?” before you’re even in the living room proper.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He feels around for the lantern that was left behind when the former residents evacuated and flicks it on, the warm yellow light a welcome sight. You both take a seat on the couch Jisung had been sleeping on as you try to find the words to describe your nightmare.

“It was Felix. We were at school and I...I saw him from behind, and it’s like we were all alright again. I was calling out to him from across campus, but he couldn’t hear me. Then I turned him around and then…” You shudder, and Jisung’s quick to wrap the blanket he took for himself around you. “He looked like he did after that day we found him. His mouth wouldn’t stop opening. I-” You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until he takes them in his own.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”

“I miss him, Jisung. I miss when the three of us would fuck around and spend all our money on food and video games and have to cram just to pass our classes. I miss having to kick his ass in Smash because you never could. I miss our group calls where we make fun of him for playing Fortnite because it’s not relevant anymore.”

“I know,” he shushes, pulling you into his arms. “I miss him too. He was in my dream, at the very beginning.” He tucks your head under his chin. “It was the night of the party and he told me not to do something stupid because I could lose you. Next thing I knew, we were at the hospital and it was you facing those zombies and not me. They,” he swallows heavily, “they got you. All I did was stand there. And then I was all alone.” You stay silent, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss college.”

“You and me both.” Before long, you switch the lantern off, breathing becoming steady. Your eyes get heavier and heavier until you let yourself fall into a deep sleep.

Sleeping by his side wills away most of the nightmares. You get the best rest you've gotten since the night it all started, so good that after that night, you rarely sleep apart.

(You ignore the twinge of...something in your heart when you wake up first. There's something about his sleeping face that makes him look at peace, something about the way his arms snake around you as soon as you lie down next to him, that makes you feel something you think you shouldn't be feeling.)

"Do you think we'll make it?" he asks one night. You're both sitting cross-legged in the back of his truck, taking inventory. He picked up a map from one of the houses you've been squatting in on the way; you're halfway to the base. "Survive, I mean. Not just long enough to get to the fort, but...you know. In general." You glance up from the knife in your hands, humming.

"I hope so. Besides," you start, dragging the knife along the sharpening stone, "we've made it through everything so far, haven't we?"

"Yeah," he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit, "we have." The stars wink down at you as you work under the light of the moon and a small lantern. With any luck, things will get better once you've reached the safety of the base.

You open and close the drawers of the house you and Jisung have stopped at to gather supplies, trying to find something to take with you. The house hasn't been ransacked yet (or at least, you don't think so; the locks were in place and everything looked tidy before you broke in), but the owners sure did a good job of clearing the place out. No canned goods, no bottles of water, nothing except for some office supplies and a worrying amount of rubber duckies in the bathroom.

The lights are all off, and you're pretty sure that the house's supply of running water ran out a long time ago. The midsummer heat makes your clothes stick to your skin just as uncomfortably as the duct tape you and Jisung have taken to wearing along your arms and legs. After what happened at the hospital, Jisung didn’t want to take any risks, no matter how much you both sweat under the adhesive.

You're poring over the drawers in the bathroom when your eyes get drawn to a small box in the corner of your vision. It's a little beat up, but the saccharine pink and white box grins up at you all the same. You're not quite sure what use Hello Kitty bandaids would serve—they're not even that big, really, the most they could do is patch up a paper cut—but you do know they'd make Jisung smile.

And if you're being honest, you've come to miss that smile. It's been hard to come by recently.

Nobody breathes a word about the change in dynamic. There's no angsty "what are we" talk that threatens both your friendship and your budding relationship. It's just you and Jisung, the same as it's always been.

You get used to resting your head on his lap, to having his hand interlaced with yours as he drives. You throw away the excuse of sleeping together “to get rid of the nightmares” (though that’s still a very compelling reason). The word boyfriend is always on the tip of your tongue, but at this point, labels like that don’t mean much.

You learn to enjoy the little things, the way the blues and blacks of night fade into pinks and purples with streaks of pale orange to greet the world each morning. You learn to enjoy the little things, like the weight of Jisung’s head on your shoulder as you run your thumb down the side of his hand. It’s humbling, you think, how the sun rises and sets, how the world keeps spinning despite it all. No matter how much has changed, some things stay the same.

”You ever realize how insignificant we are?” you ask one morning, eyes focused on the sky above. “Life goes on, with or without us.”

”Yeah,” he shifts to look up at you from his place in the crook of your neck, “but you know what?” You hum as the birds begin chirping, signifying the start of the day, eyes closed as you bask in the morning glow. “I don’t think I could ever feel too insignificant when I’m with you.”

You scoot away, causing Jisung to start whining. “We’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and you’re flirting with me?” you scoff, incredulous.

“And you’re surprised?” He’s got this cheeky smile on his stupid face that you swear makes the world, your world, a better place. You lean in, pressing your lips to his for just a second. With your eyes closed, it feels like you’re a normal couple watching the sun rise on a normal world. It feels like nothing is wrong, and you’re right where you’re meant to be.

You’re digging through your backpack to find the beat up paperback you were planning to finish reading and use as fuel for the occasional fires you and Jisung would light when camping out when a set of Polaroids fall out of your bag. You’d crammed them in there long before the thought of a zombie apocalypse ever crossed your mind. There’s one that catches your eye from the night you celebrated your joint graduation with Jisung. (Seungmin and Hyunjin went to different high schools, and Felix was still in Australia at this point; you’d meet all of them on the day of orientation.)

It was the largest party you’ve ever been to, with your families and your friends taking up all the parking in the neighborhood. Avoiding awkward conversation with aunties and uncles was your specialty, and you spent much of the night dodging questions like “So what are you planning to major in?” and “Are you dating that Jisung kid?”

There were drinks in the cooler that you were expressly told not to touch (not like that stopped you both from sneaking out two beers and chugging them in your room, away from prying eyes), music playing from the Bluetooth speaker you’d never used, and laughter everywhere you looked.

“Can’t believe we’re adults now,” you said, one arm dangling off the side of your bed. “Feels like I only met you yesterday.” You set the bottle down on your carpet, eyes focused on your ceiling fan as it did its rotations.

“I’m glad we’re going to the same college,” he confessed, setting his bottle on your nightstand before you barked at him to put it on the carpet lest the condensation damage the wood. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jisung’s parents had brought out a cake, the icing congratulating you two on graduating from high school. All eyes were on you as you held the knife just above the cake, and you felt weightless as the blade divvied up the dessert.

“Wait, I wanna do it too,” Jisung whispered, bumping shoulders with you.

“What? No, this is my house.”

“Well, my parents were the ones who bought the cake!”

You try to think of a retort, but when none comes, you hand him the knife. “Here. Don’t mess it up.”

“I never mess up,” he said as you took the biggest chunk of cake for yourself. You watched him cut the cake into what were initially equal portions, but grew less and less balanced as the cake went on.

“See,” you told him once the cake was all gone, “what’d I tell you?” You take a dollop of the cake’s whipped cream and planted it on his nose. “You never listen, Han Jisung.”

It’s then that a flash went off, stunning you both. Yeji grinned as she handed you the developing Polaroid. “Save it for the wedding,” she joked. (It makes you sad to know that although you stayed relatively close in high school, you lost touch in college. You smile when you see each other on campus, but it’s not the same.)

“What are you looking at?” Jisung asks, pulling you back to the present. You stare down at the image, the almost child-like smiles on your faces. It feels like a lifetime ago, when things were easier and the unknown was something you thought you were ready for.

“Remember our grad party?” He takes one look at the picture and you swear you see the lines of stress on his forehead fade away as he laughs at the face he’s making in the photograph.

“God, I miss those days.”

"There it is." The base stands tall, barbed wire promising shelter from the uncertainty of whether you'd spend the day forced to fight for your life or not. You drum your fingers on your thighs as you approach the entrance, chest full to bursting with anticipation. You're half listening to Jisung's stupid hour-long playlist, half relieved that you managed to find a base so close.

He stops at the gate, waiting for a guard to emerge and check you two for signs of infection. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it tight. This is it, the gesture says, we're gonna be okay.

You wait.

You wait some more.

Your hands get sweaty.

"Is anyone there? You'd think for a military base, they'd have someone come out by now." Jisung turns the volume of the car speakers all the way down. He's met with the noises of his truck's engine...and an incessant scratching at the gate.

Exchanging a look, you hop out of the car and try to peek through the slits of the covered chain-link fence. Your first mistake is getting too close; they all seem to catch your scent and greet you with a chorus of grunts and groans as the horde focuses their attention on you.

Your second mistake is looking too closely at who's behind the fence. You make eye contact with the husk of a man, a glazed look in his eyes and skin broken along one side of his face from where he’s been clawing at it. He's dressed in all black, and when you take a second glance (you really shouldn't have), you realize he looks like someone you know. You're almost certain that if he smiled, you'd see dimples. You're almost certain that if you could see his hair—torn out in clumps, his scalp bloody—it would be curly since he wouldn't have access to a straightener in the middle of nowhere.

"Chan?" you whisper. There's no response, but a taller figure pushes into him, forcing his way to the front. When his mouth opens, all you can see are swollen, bloody gums and blackening teeth from weeks of neglect. Despite that, you know exactly who this is. You've tag-teamed toilet duty with Jisung at enough parties to know what Hyunjin's neck and back look like as he lurches forward, trying to ram the gate. "Oh shit." Felix and Jisung did say that Chan took the rest of the boys somewhere, didn't they?

That conversation feels like a lifetime ago, when the term "zombie apocalypse" was just the name of an overdone genre. It was better suited to being viewed from the comfort of your couch on a Friday night and Han Jisung by your side to complain about the shitty effects and act like he wouldn't need to sleep over because he'd get too scared to drive home.

You creep back to the truck, taking slow steps backward to avoid alerting the horde more than you already have. Releasing a heavy breath when you slip into the passenger seat, you try not to think about what you saw. Jisung looks at you expectantly, and you can't bring yourself to break his heart even more. He's already lost his best friend; you don't have the heart to tell him that the rest of his friends, his found family, are most likely locked behind that gate as well.

"You okay? What'd you find?"

"Just some zombies, nothing important. Let's go."

The first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

Sure, the deed is done and the zombie's dead (like really, fully dead), but it's what comes after that sucks.

You’re on a supply run, a hunting rifle you jacked from an abandoned house in your hands. You guess the house must not have been as abandoned as you thought, since there are two zombies in front of you and Jisung. You've come to notice that zombies get slobbery. The sight of decomposing flesh slick with saliva isn't very appealing, and that's not including the stench of it all.

No matter which way you slice it, eau de zombie just isn't for you.

You don't have much experience when it comes to firing a gun. (Or any experience, really.) But you figure it's an aim-and-shoot sort of situation, right? You've seen Felix play video games before, and he's always made it seem simple. So you line the barrel of the gun up with their heads and pull the trigger. One. Two. Three.

The shots echo, and for a moment, you feel on top of the world as the first zombie falls backwards, blood oozing from the bullet's exit hole.

But in that moment, you also realize that recoil is a bitch when you're not prepared, and the second shot misses the other one entirely, the gun skewed too far to the left. You stumble back into the kitchen island, but Jisung's quick enough on his feet to decapitate the remaining zombie without much trouble.

"Hey, you know what I remembered?" he asks, wiping zombie blood from his brow.

"What?"

"Guns make noise."

"Yeah, no—shit." With those gunshots, you gave away your location to any unfriendly forces, human or not.

"You don't think zombies have working ears, do you?" You hit the kitchen with renewed vigor, gathering some essentials—a few knives, some canned goods left behind—and set the rifle down.

"I don't wanna find out. And even if they don't, other humans sure as hell do." He turns the house upside down looking for more bullets. If there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be looking out for you, because the former owners of the house left their safe unlocked. You decide to relieve them of their two pistols and every bit of ammunition you can get your hands on.

Of course, if there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be fucking with you, because minutes after getting back on the road, you hear the roaring of motorcycle engines. They surround Jisung's truck, and their leader stares you both down before yanking his black mask down and rapping two knuckles on the window Jisung forgot to roll down.

"You two should've known better than to wander 'round here," he tuts, running a finger through his hair. "So young, too. Almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do." To one of his cronies, he barks, "Mingi! Take what's in the trunk." You don't see this Mingi person, but you feel the truck get weighed down as he leaps on and loots everything worth taking. "Don't take it personally. At the end of the day, it's all about survival. I've got eight mouths to feed, and you've only got two. Only makes sense that we should, ah...relieve you of some of that weight you’re carrying."

Jisung's fuming, fists clenched in his lap, but you know he sees the guns slung along their backs and holstered at their hips and stays silent. The pistols you two picked up are in the glove compartment, and the ammo's strategically buried underneath a pile of clothes at your feet. It's okay, you try to tell him, meeting his eyes. We prepared for this.

One of the leader's other cohorts pulls his own black mask down and whispers into the leader's ear. When he's given permission to speak, the young man looks straight at Jisung and asks, "Are you Han Jisung?"

"Who's asking?" Jisung shoots you a look, but you can only shrug in response.

"There was a group of guys looking for their friend. Their description matched your face, but I guess it doesn't matter now. They went to the base a couple miles south." The young man nods in the direction of the base you were at only a couple days before. "Probably more undead than alive at this point."

"What...do you mean by that?"

"He means," their leader snaps, "that the military base down south got infected. Don't know when. But it was a group of seven, led by some guy named Chad or Chan or something. We tried to get 'em to join, but they were deadset on finding shelter.” He snorts. “Their funeral."

Mingi's finished taking your things, so the leader and the younger man (you catch his name when the leader calls out to him—Wooyoung?) pull on their masks and take off, leaving you and Jisung in the middle of the road. He's silent again, driving down the vast expanse of nothingness with only his playlist to serve as background noise.

"Where to now?" you try, eyes searching his face to gauge his reaction.

"Did you know?" It's a whisper you almost don't hear over the wind in your ears.

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know that they were..." He doesn't finish his sentence. The way your mouth clamps shut, gaze falling to your lap, tells him everything he needs to know.

His grip tightens on the wheel, and you jolt forward when he comes to an abrupt halt, throwing open the door and walking off, slamming it behind him. "Jisung?" You follow him out, but he whirls around to face you, face scrunched as he crooks a finger in your direction.

"You lied to me!"

"Look-"

"I fucking trusted you! You were the only person I had left! I saw my best friend get murdered with my own two fucking eyes!” He’s blinking back tears as he shouts at you. “I've spent god knows how long hoping that the rest of my friends were alive, and the fact that you saw them on that base...the fact that you fucking lied to me..." He takes a deep breath, eyes screwed shut. It’s silent for a long time. His shoulders loosen, hands falling flat, but when he opens his eyes, you feel a chill run down your spine. He's built a concrete wall between you two, locking you out with four simple words: "You're on your own."

"Jisung, what-"

"You heard me." The sentence is curt. He's wiped away years of friendship and whatever romance you might've had all in one fell swoop. (But maybe you did that yourself when you lied to him.) "You're on your own." He enunciates each syllable as clearly as possible, lacing them with as much venom as possible. You wither under his gaze.

He tosses one of the pistols at your feet. No extra ammo; you only get what's already loaded. He drives off without you, and you're left with nothing but the bag you packed that first night, a pistol, and the clothes on your back.

So yeah, the first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

You learn how to get by alone, rationing what's left in your bag and clinging to the shadows to avoid a fight. You learn to ignore the rumble in your stomach in favor of focusing on other things, like the distant noise of motorcycles. (You hold your breath when you hear them, pray they don't come close. They’ve taken enough from you already.)

It's lonely. You and Jisung might not have always agreed on everything, but the weight of solitude, real solitude, drags you down like a ball and chain fastened to your ankles, making each step forward unbearable. Some nights, you see his truck parked in the distance, in the garage of old houses or partially masked by foliage. You want to approach him, beg for forgiveness, beg for what you had back.

Instead you tiptoe past, giving the vehicle a wide berth.

You spend some mornings thumbing through the rest of the Polaroids you have. Most of them (unsurprisingly) are of you and Jisung. There’s one of him posing in front of the most expensive cheesecake shop in town (he’d been drooling at the window displays for weeks), one of you facing the ocean, back turned to the camera (you begged him to go for spring break), and one Hyunjin took of you two playing beer pong at one of the frat’s many parties (you were never quite sure why drunk Jisung had better aim than sober Jisung; you ended up losing these matches).

You don’t know why you do it. You know that taking a trip down memory lane is the single worst thing to be doing, but you do it anyway. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you miss Jisung.

Maybe you miss yourself.

The next time you see Jisung, you're in a convenience store infested with zombies. You weren't planning to enter, having heard the tell-tale noises of confrontation, but you caught a glimpse of who was doing the fighting and couldn't walk away.

Jisung's backed up against a corner, trying to beat away the zombies surrounding him with a hatchet. (Keyword being trying: he's just one guy against five disgusting bags of meat trying to kill him.) You see blood all over him, dripping onto the floor, and decide to intervene. He should be grateful when you bash their heads in with his barbed baseball bat, left discarded across the store, but—

"I had that under control."

"Jisung, I-"

"Save it." He wipes the blade of the hatchet on the ragged pants of one of the creatures that attacked him. "Thanks. And keep the bat. You look like you need it."

"Jisung, just listen to me."

"What could you possibly have to say to me? The damage has been done."

"I was trying to protect you!" He rolls his eyes, and you're worried he'll walk away, but his feet stay planted. "How was I supposed to tell you that all your friends got infected, huh? How do you tell someone that? Hell, I wasn't even sure if it was them!" He refuses to meet your gaze, refuses to respond. "Dammit, Jisung..." You screw your eyes shut, but there’s not even a hint of reaction from him.

“You know what, if you’re not gonna listen to me, then fine. I’ll go.” Swivelling on the balls of your feet, you make to walk away, to return to solitude. You don’t look back.

“Wait!” There’s a desperate tone to it that almost makes you want to cave, almost makes you want to return to what life was before you reached the base. You barely manage to keep your head forward, even as you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

"I'm sorry.” His voice comes out soft, something above a whisper but far below his normal speaking voice. “I thought about it after I kicked you out, and you were right. I wouldn't have told me either. Guess I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong," he chuckles. "If you don't forgive me, I get that. You can take some of my food, and we can part ways again, but for what it's worth...I missed you."

You sigh, looking out the cracked store window. "Look, I'm sorry too. It was a tough choice, but I should've been honest with you." It's kinda gross to be trying to make amends here, what with one foot stepping in zombie excrement and all, but your head hangs low in apology anyway.

Your head snaps up when you hear him sniffle, and his eyes are struggling to hold back tears. When you open your arms, he's quick to wrap his arms around you and crumple into your embrace, voice muttering broken apologies. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles. "I missed you so much." You two stand there and let the moment drag out, let Jisung dampen your shirt for what feels like hours.

There might not be much hope left in the tumultuous reality you've found yourselves in, but as long as you're together, you think you stand a chance at weathering the storm.

"Shit," Jisung hisses that night, wiping blood off his arms with a damp cloth. He should've taped himself up before going on a supply run, but he'd been running out of tape; that was the reason he risked entering the infested store at all. The bite marks on either side of his forearm run red and raw, and Jisung fixes his gaze to the popcorn ceiling to avoid throwing up then and there.

A glance is all it takes for him to gag, and he washes the cloth off, red water spiraling into the sink. He caps the water bottle he used and takes a good look at himself in the mirror.

There's blood across the right side of his face. (He's not sure if it's his or not.) There are deep lines in his forehead from months of stress, dark circles underneath his eyes. He figures he should've gotten more sleep while he still could, remembers all the times you bugged him about going to bed early.

He never listened.

He never listens.

If you were with him, he wouldn't have gone in alone, wouldn't have gotten surrounded, wouldn't have gotten bit. Maybe he wouldn't have even gone in at all. Lord knows you've always been his impulse control.

That's it, then. I've got a day or so left then... He wraps the clean(ish) cloth around the bite and resists the urge to squeeze until he bleeds out on the bathroom floor. There's only one thing left to do.

You're in the middle of shaking the dust off the former tenants’ couch cushions when you notice Jisung emerge from the bathroom. "I did some digging around, and I think these'll fit you." He catches the clothes you toss him wordlessly. "You good?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Kill me."

Okay. Well. You were expecting something more along the lines of "check if the truck is locked" or "kiss me."

"Wh-" The word gets lodged in your throat when he lifts his hand to show you the bite. His whole forearm's red at this point, blood trickling from it despite the sopping red cloth in his hand. He tries for a lighthearted grin.

(It doesn't work. Jisung's never been a good liar.)

"Please. I want to die on my own terms." To himself, he mutters, "You always deserved better, anyway. All I ever did was get angry and leave you behind." He's focused on the way the blood runs down his arm and fingers before falling down, down, down. The hardwood floor takes it like a champ, he thinks.

It's really kinda funny how he can think things like that when he knows he has to die, and he has the audacity to laugh. Maybe he’s only laughing because he’s losing a lot of blood.

You cup his face with both hands, the couch cushion tossed to the side, and he hesitates before leaning in. "How- how do you get to decide what I deserve? Decide what I want?" your voice breaks, vision blurred from tears. "You're all I want." Your foreheads touch as you sob, tears mingling with Jisung's blood as they hit the floor. "This isn't fair! I just got you back and- and-" The cry that rips itself from your throat is guttural, a bubbling noise produced from the back of your throat. This time it's Jisung who lets you cry into him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"You're so fucking stupid! I hate you!" you scream, nails digging into his shoulders. You may as well be telling the world where you are, but your mind doesn't bother registering it. Before you know it, you're slipping, legs unable to keep you up. You're so tired. It's been a long, arduous few months. "I hate you so much!"

But you don't mean it. You never could.

You weep at his feet, clutching at his jeans in an effort to pull yourself up. "I hate you..."

Maybe it's the look on his face when you pull away to gulp down air like your life depends on it; broken, beaten. Maybe it's the crushing hopelessness that hits you; when Jisung's gone, so are you. Hellish as this world may be, Jisung's the only thing that makes you feel like your last moments might not be so bad. He's your home, your tiny shred of sunshine and hope.

When he tugs you back to eye level, you smash your lips onto his, hand on the back of his head. He responds immediately, mouth moving against yours, hand tugging at your waist (closer, closer, closer).

But then his brain catches up to his body. "Wait," he turns so you're leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, "wait, this- this isn't right." He steps back, eyes wide as he puts distance between you. "Now you're-"

"Infected." You think back to the news coverage of the disease. All it took was a drop of saliva for someone to be at risk. You wring your hands, tear your eyes from his forearm (his veins bulge as if they're fit to burst). "I guess I just realized, you know?" A nervous chuckle escapes your lips. "Who else...who else is gonna..." Your voice breaks again, eyes brimming with tears. "Who else is gonna put up with you in the afterlife?"

He's in front of you again in a heartbeat, wiping your tears. With a scoff, he says, "God, what would I do without you?"

You bandage him up properly after that, spend the night talking until you're asleep, head rested on his chest. It's comforting, he thinks. He wishes he could have held you like this back when your only concerns were your uptight Calculus professor and the stress of finals.

"Better late than never, I guess," he whispers, breaking the silence. Your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, your cheek smashed against his chest as you sleep. "Though I guess we might've been a little too late, huh?"

The sun rises, golden light in your face forcing you to blink your eyes awake. Jisung stirs at your movement, his good hand tightening around you as he tries to stay asleep.

"Wake up." You press a kiss to his knuckles. "We don't have much time."

His voice comes out deep and gravelly, speaking for the first time in a few hours. "I know. Just five more minutes like this, I promise. Five more minutes..." And he's asleep again, mouth open in a little "o." You curl into him, listening for his heartbeat; weak, but still there. He’s still alive and so are you.

You think five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

"Ready?" you ask. The pistol shakes in your hands; you might not be the best shot, but you can't afford to miss now. You try to will your nerves into complacency. (It doesn't work.)

"Wait!" he says, eyes wide. His veins are clearly visible along the infected arm, snaking up his shoulder and kissing his collarbone. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a stupid, million-watt grin. "I love you. Even, uh, even if I am pointing a gun at you." He waves the other pistol a bit to prove his point. "I just wanted you to know before we, you know. Blow each other's brains out."

"Hey." You catch his attention, match his smile for the last time. "I love you too. Just thought you should know before I blow your brains out." He laughs, and it's a real, genuine laugh blooming from his stomach; it’s a loud, hearty sound and makes your heart feel so full that you can't help but laugh with him, laugh at the fact that you're about to shoot the boy you love, laugh at everything that landed you here.

Then the laughter calms down. The wind itself holds its breath, refusing to let even a slight breeze slip through. "On three. Ready?" Jisung nods, starting the count.

"One."

(It's sad you two will never get to see the end of it all, or if there's an end to begin with. Who knows, maybe there are enough true leaders left in the world to make something out of nothing. You hope that this world learns to heal from its wounds, no matter what. But in the end, you guess it doesn't matter. The sun will rise and set regardless.

“No matter how things change…”

“...some things stay the same.” With those words, you and Jisung taped up the cardboard box labeled “TIME CAPSULE” in black Sharpie. “Man, I hope future us doesn’t hate past us too much for this,” Jisung said, managing to find a space for the large box in his closet. “It’s gonna be a long four years.” Right below the time capsule label read “OPEN AFTER GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE.”

You’d nodded, hiding the box from view by moving Jisung’s clothes in front of it. “There we go. Now we won’t be tempted to open it.” The rest of the day was spent getting ice cream way too close to dinner to be healthy and trying to find out what the other wrote in their letter to their future self.

You don’t know why you’re remembering the makeshift time capsule you two spent half a day filling, but knowing that you’ll never get to open it makes your toes curl with an unpleasant sadness.)

"Two."

(In a way, you think you're almost grateful for what happened. Despite how twisted and fucked up it all was, you doubt you and Jisung would have ever found each other, truly found each other, without it. In your final moments, you think back to a conversation you had with him the week of the announcement.

"You know what I realized?" he had asked, making himself comfortable on your bed.

"What?"

"Parallel lines stay so close to each other, but they never meet. That's so sad."

"Jisung, are you crying over lines?"

"You know what else I realized?" he asked again, wiping tears from his eyes. "All the other pairs of lines meet once and then drift apart forever."

You ended up comforting him, leaving your homework behind. "Promise me we'll be like parallel lines. Promise me we won't start drifting." His eyes were shiny with tears as he held his pinky out to you, your pinkies interlaced in eternal promise.

Staring down the barrel of the pistol in Jisung's hands, you start to think that this is the part where you start drifting.)

"Three!"

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years

Text

Pest Control

A random IronPanther AU (with a side dish of Sam/Rhodey and Pepper/Natasha) in which T’Challa gets a sphynx and Tony becomes an expert advice giver in how to deal with your partner’s pets that you dislike.

Rhodey looks concerned probably because Tony looks overly serious. “T’Challa... has gotten a sphynx,” he says.

Rhodey squints. “A sphynx?” he asks and Tony nods. “That’s a cat, right?” he asks and Tony briefly reconsiders their friendship. They’ve been friends a long time but he has Pepper and she knows what a sphynx is so maybe he should stick with her.

“Its a hairless cat, yeah,” he says and Rhodey wrinkles his nose.

“Oh, ew, he got a goblin,” he says and Tony nods vigorously.

“You understand my pain!” T’Challa thinks this is an acceptable pet. A fucking bald cat. If he wanted to pet a bald mammal he’d pet T’Challa. Actually, he does that already. Its not really petting, but it kind of counts but that’s as close as Tony will get to petting a bald anything. Unless he somehow ends up in a situation in which he has to pet Okoye for some reason, she’s got less hair than T’Challa but she’d murder him if she even knew he’d considered such a thing to no because he values his life.

“Tell him cats in America either have hair or they’re bust,” he says, wrinkling his nose again.

“He’s going to tell me he’s not American and he’s right, which is why I have devised a plan to rid myself of this sphynx in a way that will work out for everyone, goblin cat included.” Just because he thinks the animal is an abomination doesn’t mean he wants to see the cat hurt. Just not in T’Challa’s lap where he might be forced to pet the damn thing.

“You’re going to contact whatever Erdrich horror put those things on this earth and tell it to take the cat back to the underworld?” Rhodey asks and Tony laughs.

Alright, this is why he’s friends with Rhodey. Dude is hilarious even if he’s apparently uneducated about what a sphinx is. “No. The cat hates cold hands on account of being bald, and if I spend enough time in the lab at a certain temperature my hands get cold. I use a lot of stuff that generates heat, makes sense that I wouldn’t have the heat up. Plausible deniability in case T’Challa catches me out. Anyway, then I go to pet the cat. Cat hates cold hands, will not react well. Then it’ll look like the cat hates me and T’Challa will take his ugly goblin cat back to Wakanda and we can get a proper cat with hair,” he says, waving his hands around a little.

Rhodey nods, “that’s genius. Got any tips on how to get Sam get rid of his budgies? Because the birds hate me and they squawk all night but Sam loves them for some reason. I can’t stand the birds but I think releasing them into the wild might be bad for them,” he says. “And I don’t like the birds, but I don’t want to hurt the birds. Unless its three in the morning and they won’t shut up, then I kind of want to strangle the birds, but I wouldn’t actually strangle the birds.”

“Have you watched Hitchock’s The Birds with him?” Tony asks and Rhodey’s eyes grow wide.

“You’re a genius! This is why we’re friends. Those damn budgies are going to get the boot!” he says excitedly.

Tony sits beside T’Challa, who is petting his horrible creature of a cat. The cat gives him a lazy look with its creepy goblin eyes and Tony reaches out, letting the cat sniff him for a moment before he pets the cat. As expected the cat doesn’t like his cold hands and reacts negatively, recoiling and giving Tony a dirty look. “Okay then, sorry,” he tells the cat even though he’s not sorry at all. This thing can go hang out in Shuri’s lab because she’s a freak who likes these things too. And Okoye. She loves these cats, has like seven of them. Tony doesn’t understand why Wakandans like these cats so much but they do.

T’Challa carefully calms the cat again and it settles back into his lap. “She doesn’t seem to like you much,” he says. “Which is strange because I don’t think I’ve seen any other cat dislike you. They seem to flock to you normally.”

Good luck in Wakanda, cats liking you. Probably has something to do with their cat gods but Tony is so many layers out of the loop there that he just takes the good luck and runs with it. “No idea, I’ve never met a cat that didn’t like me,” he says honestly. This one doesn’t either, if his hands aren’t cold but Tony refuses to pet it. Its weird and he doesn’t like it.

He reaches out again and lets the cat sniff him and because the cat does like him she lets him pet her again. His hands are still chilly so the cat recoils again, giving him another dirty look before jumping from T’Challa’s lap and running off. T’Challa looks surprised to see her go. “I don’t understand why she keeps doing that,” he says.

Oh Tony does, and he’s hoping T’Challa’s hairless venture will be in another country by the end of the week.

The cat stares at Tony, gross little goblin feet on the counter despite also spending time in the litter box, and he glares at it. “Mark my words, you weirdly bloated little beast, you will be out of this house soon,” he tells the cat.

Obviously the cat has little to say about this and when Tony walks by the cat trots along beside the counter because the damn thing loves him. Tony ignores the cat, coming to a stop in front of the cupboard with the mugs in it and he reaches up to get one. The cat, taking advantage of his vulnerability, rubs along his stomach, purring lightly. He wrinkles his nose and pulls a mug from the cupboard. “Get off the counter, you know you’re not supposed to be up here,” he tells the cat. She jumps down, thankfully, but instead of trotting off she rubs herself along his pant leg.

This cat has got to go back to a country of people that will appreciate its weird hairless nature.

Tony has successfully cold handed the cat out of T’Challa’s lap for the fifth time this week and he frowns. “I think I may take her back to Wakanda. She seemed to like it better there,” he says, skirting around the fact that the cat doesn’t like him.

He’s fine with that. “Sounds great, when do you leave with her?” he asks, trying and mostly failing to temper the excitement in his tone.

T’Challa frowns, but doesn’t respond to his excitement. “Sunday. She likes the sun there and its cold this time of year,” he says, giving the nearest window a dirty look. Yeah, T’Challa likes the cold a lot less than his cat does.

“Do you have to put sun screen on her to avoid sun burns?” he asks, thinking on his feet. The cat’s bald, right? Wouldn’t its skin burn in the sun? Is that a thing?

“Yes, they are particularly susceptible to sunburns. Its why she’s kept inside and mostly away from sun spots even if she likes them.” Yeah, T’Challa has built little warm cat spots all over the house. Which would be fine if the cat had hair.

“Hm. Well, hope she likes Wakanda,” he says in a chipper tone.

Tony likes to think he’s subtle but he isn’t. He doesn’t like the sphynx and T’Challa had no idea why until he happened to be checking over security cameras to see if the cat had gotten into the garbage again when he discovers something else instead.

As it turns out the cat quite likes Tony, which makes her behavior odd given that she tends to dislike being pet by him. That had him confused him at first, why that would be, until he exits the lab and goes to pet the cat for himself only to have her recoil. It takes a minute to figure out his hands are chilly and the cat didn’t like it, but he figures it out nonetheless.

T’Challa is holding his ugly hairless skin sack- cats were meant to have hair damnit- looking upset. “What? Did the cat get into the garbage again? Because I’m telling you, that garbage could trick a raccoon and if it can trick a raccoon the cat is fucked,” he says. Those bandit eyes bastards can get into anything. Tony’s got this one that keeps coming around, he’s named it Rocket, and that little fucker is the smartest animal he’s ever met. He’s managed to make Tony work to keep the raccoons out and once Rocket gets in a whole damn hoard shows up ready to eat his trash.

There’s raccoon unfriendly things in there though so they need to go find regular household trash instead of his surprisingly high tech but not quite raccoon proof dumpsters. But his latest design is keeping them out so far and if Rocket can’t get in the cat can’t get in.

“You’ve been intentionally alienating the cat,” T’Challa says, offended and Tony frowns.

“Have not, cat’s just like that.” Plausible deniability, there’s no way he knows about the cold hand thing.

T’Challa, because he’s obviously intent on proving his point walks over and pushes the cat into his arms. Tony awkwardly handles the cat, who immediately starts purring like a little traitor. T’Challa watches him intently and he’s certain he hasn’t kept the disgust off his face given that T’Challa narrows his eyes. “Why don’t you like the sphynx?” he asks and Tony hands the cat back, wrinkling his nose and shaking himself out.

“Okay, I am sorry but that thing looks like a mutated scrotum and I don’t like its texture! Cats were meant to have hair T’Challa!” He gives the cat a look and T’Challa gives him a look.

“This cat is a perfectly wonderful and loving pet! There is nothing wrong with her because she has no hair! And your friends have allergies, I thought a hairless cat was a good compromise,” he says.

Tony wrinkles his nose, “if there’s even the thought of pet dander in the air Steve is sneezing, he takes allergy meds to go out in public because he runs into people with pets everywhere. Just get a real cat with hair, please,” he almost begs.

T’Challa gives him another offended look, holding his abomination of a cat close. “Maybe I will get myself a new significant other!” he says, upset.

“I like cats, I love cats, just not that one. Send it back to Wakanda- it’ll get plenty of love and we can have a normal cat here. One with hair, maybe lots of hair. I have an eye on this big fluffy cat the size of a butterball turkey named Jake at the shelter a couple blocks away,” he says. “He’s cute, and he’s old so he’s less likely to get adopted, and he’s really sweet and he might be fat but I think he’s just like that.”

The cat is adorable, a real sweet fluff ball. Much better than T’Challa’s current idea of a pet. “You would get a cat from a shelter?” T’Challa asks, touched.

Tony rolls his eyes, “I only get cats from shelters, they need adopting. Please send that particular cat to Wakanda and we can get a lovely rescue cat.”

Tony is pissed. The cat is sitting in his lap with T’Challa’s version of a compromise on it. “You skinned another animal to stick on this cat so it has hair?” he asks, looking down at the furry vest the cat is wearing.

T’Challa looks offended, “the fur isn’t real, Tony. That’s barbaric. But now the cat has hair so you can’t whine,” he says, petting the cat’s still hairless head.

“All this does is make the cat look like a scrotum but extra hairy and demented,” he says.

“I worry for the scrotums of America if they look like this cat. Yours certainly doesn’t look like this and if it does by chance end up looking like the cat please seek medical assistance,” he tells Tony.

He sighs, looking off into the distance because T’Challa is being deliberately obtuse and this isn’t what he wanted. A normal cat with normal hair, is it too much to ask for?

Rhodey looks annoyed. “Sam got two more budgies,” he mumbles and Tony sighs.

“T’Challa thinks a fur vest solves the hairless cat problem,” he says.

“Tony,” a new voice says and they turn to face Pepper, who’s all but running over to them. Impressive, considering she’s in heels.

She comes to a stop looking quite like she’s at her wits end. “I love Natasha, you know I do, but I can’t take her creepy black widows anymore!” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Tell me how to get rid of them.”

“My plan to get rid of that sphynx and Sam’s budgies have both failed, what makes you think I’ll succeed now?” Tony asks.

“Nothing, but doing something about the spiders is the best I can ask for right now. How do I get rid of them?” she asks.

Tony shrugs and Pepper rolls her eyes. “You’re useless,” she mumbles. “Do you think sticking them in the freezer will kill them off?” she asks.

“Oh that’s mean to the spiders,” Tony says. They can’t help looking like that but Rhodey clearly has no sympathy.

“Bugs are a scourge on this planet, they need to go,” he says.

Tony sighs. “You’re moving in together, right? Claim the building has some pet rule that includes spiders and get her to leave them at Clint’s so he and Coulson can suffer with them,” he says.

Pepper considers this for a moment before nodding, “I can absolutely fake the paperwork for that. Thanks, you’re a genius,” she tells him before running off.

Rhodey frowns, “she’s going to make a fake lease for this? Man, I should have tried that on Sam.”

“He would have made you move to an apartment that allowed the birds,” Tony reminds him and Rhodey sighs.

“Four budgies are worse than two. They have conversations, its creepy. Creepier post watching The Birds. Now the stupid things are nightmare fuel,” he says, shaking his head. “And Sam loves the little bastards.”

“At least the birds aren’t featherless,” Tony mumbles.

“Behold, a man!” Rhodey says in a deep voice and they both start laughing.

Sam walks up to Tony looking extra suave in aviators he knows he stole off Rhodey, who stole them off Carol, who stole them off Hope. The glasses get around almost as much as his friends do within their friend group. “I’ve heard you’re an expert on pest control,” he says vaguely and Tony frowns.

“Uh, I’m definitely not.” Unless its calling pest control. That he can do.

“I will get rid of one budgie if you help me rid this friend group of the worst human to ever exist Bucky god damn Barnes. I know Rhodey hates them,” he says, using a good leverage point but Tony can’t just get rid of Bucky.

“Short of dying Steve won't let him go anywhere,” he points out.

“I’m not strictly opposed to murder,” Sam says even though Tony knows he absolutely is.

He sighs, “T’Challa honey, come here,” he calls. He’s rewarded with T’Challa appearing somewhat quick and lucky him he has his hideous pet in tow.

Sam doesn’t even need Tony’s hint to do what he wants, he wrinkles his nose immediately. “Why is that oversized nut sack wearing an orangutan pelt?” he asks and Tony gives T’Challa a look.

“I was going to get you that cat you liked from the shelter but since you and your ignorant friends have insulted this poor animal, who has done nothing wrong, I will not,” he says, walking off with the cat.

Tony turns to Sam. “I think I may have a job for Bucky in Romania, but you need to get rid of two budgies and learn how to keep the remaining two quiet at night.”

Sam nods, “yeah, alright. I was only bird sitting the other two budgies anyway,” he says, walking off and Tony has been played.

To add insult to injury Pepper sends him a thank you text because his spider plan panned out. He couldn’t save himself from T’Challa’s hairless cat but Pepper gets saved from the spiders? There’s something wrong with this planet.

#ironpanther #fanfiction #alternate universe

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fantroll-purgatory · 6 years

Text

@tuesdaney

Info!! (rip this got super long). also image uploader within this is being weird so image is coming as a separate submission. or maybe it’s in the post three times and i just can’t see it, in which case i am so sorry

We can fix every formatting problem behind the scenes. Shh, no one even needs to know anything went wrong.

Alternian, AU since she eventually joins a session.

Age: 7 sweeps

Name: Januss Celera. Januss from Janus, in reference to both the Roman god of time and Janus particles (specifically particles which are half hydrophilic and half hydrophobic). Celera from Acceleration.

Janus is also a god of transitions and duality, so I think it makes sense for this switching-up thing you’ve given her. He is also associated a lot with travel and journey and so forth. It’s ALSO speculated that his name could’ve been derived from the Latin verb ‘to go’, which fits her speed theme. What I’m saying is Januss Celera is a great name.

Strife Specibus: vehicular manslaughterkind i don’t actually know. she’s not really one for combat, which is to say she’ll murder anyone clearly weaker than her no problem but if it looks like anything close to a fair fight she’s going to be a coward and run away. at a loss for something that fits

She has a really rough and tumble vibe. I think for a regular weapon you could give her maybe a tireironkind? Something that’s functionally related to her interests but that she can also grab and wail on someone with if she needs to.

Or you could reference her excessive need to win by giving her trophykind. If someone beats her in a race, she can just grab the trophy they won and bash them with that. Seems fitting for her personality.

You could give her vehiclekind as a secondary weapon, though! Weaponize those cars, Januss.

Fetch Modus: also not too sure. I like the idea of a modus where she has to be traveling at least a certain speed to get items out, so at walking pace she could only get out little things but if shes flooring it in some kinda vehicle she can take out whatever she wants

Velocity Modus sounds like a good idea. Gotta speed up to eject things.

Or you could do like a Time Challenge Modus. When she wants to eject something from the modus, it’s split into ‘components’ that are scattered across an area and she has a time limit to collect them all. If she fails the time challenge, the item gets locked down for a time proportionate to how important the item is. She could use such a particularly annoying modus because she feels confident in her ability to Always Succeed.

Blood Color: ok hoooo boy here’s where we get to the Whole Idea behind Januss and its going to take a second of explaining my personal speculations on troll genetics and biology, so:

There’s a specific part of the troll genome that goes “hey! this troll is a seadweller” which triggers the development of gills and fins in a grub-to-be, and the violet blood. It’s actually present in the genes of every troll, but is only able to switch on in purplebloods, and only in specific circumstances. basically, all violetbloods are technically mutant purplebloods (and fuchsia blooded trolls are like. an even rarer “hyper mutation” of purplebloods but thats not relevant here) uh. I hope that makes sense? I like speculating how blood color works in trolls and seadwellers in particular are weird. Anyway,

Januss is a violetblood, or at least appears to be one when she’s a grub. She has a mutation in the protein responsible for “switching on” the seadweller gene, though, and it basically switches back off after 4 or so sweeps. As a result, her blood color has shifted from violet to purple and her fins and gills are stunted. On the surface she just looks like a violetblood with kinda small fins, on the inside her gills barely work and are getting worse, and she probably has a few other odd symptoms from her body suddenly changing its mind about blood color. (she’ll probably live to some weird age inbetween what’s expected of violet and purple, for example. if no one finds out and culls her.)

I like this explanation of her state a lot. Something like her having an enzyme/growth hormone that has a visible effect on the blood color and results in the development of particular features. And then her body just says Oops and stops producing that hormone and so her blood goes back to the basic state… It’s really interesting. I think it works, especially because there’s some speculation on the bridge between purples and violets anyways, considering the purple association with aquatic mammals. They’re Close to the seadweller without actually Being the seadweller and I think that provides some definitely reasonable room for mutation and weird halfway development.

All of that is to say- your theory tracks well enough to justify the theme of your character.

Symbol and meaning: Aquaries is what she’s grown up under and goes by, but technically she’d be Capries, which is somewhat reflected in her horns. When she winds up playing Sgrub and eventually stops hiding her mutation, she makes a new (non canon) symbol for herself by taking Aquaries and making it fit the purpleblood sign language. (caus like, I doubt she’d automatically know “oh yes my actual sign is capries” but she does want to reflect her real blood color)

I like that a lot! Figuring out and working things out for herself is great. And not to spoil what we talk about during the land/title/moon section, but I do agree with these assignments. So I’ll be keeping this in mind when working w/ her design!

Trolltag: agileTraverse. caus she’s fast and can do some sick stunts and she knows it

Might I recommend supersonicAstrobatic[SA]? Just to REALLY push her speed theme and at least pay reference to the fact that she wants to race spaceships. Or astrobaticTerminality[AT] if you want to keep the same abbreviation. It keeps the spaceship reference. Terminality pays reference to the god Janus’ theme of End Points, meaning here the Extreme, The Most. Also a good reference to the fact that she’s ruthless and will, in fact, do a kill. She’s a terminal astrobatic.

Quirk: ^she encloses her words like this to resemble her symbol. she types fairly normally, no capitalization unLESS/SHE/GETS/EXCITED/OR/ANGRY/IN/WHICH/CASE/SHES/FAST/AND/LOUD/AND/EVERYONE/KNOWS/IT!!!!!!!!!!!!^

Not sure how she’d change that after changing her symbol, maybe by swapping the ^ for a u.

Honestly I think just keeping it around would be acceptable? It’s the way she’s talked for a lot of years, so you could make the argument that the habit is hard to break and just sticks around. It’s implied that it reflects a real manner of speaking, too, since Sollux’s changes upon blindness. So unless you think she would change some of her vocal mannerisms or would undergo some physical impact (like losing her front teeth, to return to the Sollux example), there’s no Real need to adjust her quirk.

Special Abilities: nothing beyond standard highblood stuff, and the aforementioned mutation. It’s worth mentioning that she can’t do chucklevoodos though. I figure her seadweller upbringing keeps her distanced from the whole juggalo religion thing, even after she “shows her true colors”, as it were.

Makes sense, since she didn’t fall back into purpleblood until she hit, what, ~8 years old? I think you could probably make a case for her not having psychic abilities but still having just the subtle passive influence of chucklevoodoos. Because I think the implication is that it’s a natural ability meant to Keep Lowbloods In Check that is cultivated by the church for a specific purpose/aesthetic.

What I’m saying is that you could give her some really weak chaotic auras that make her slightly more naturally intimidating.

Lusus: Sailfishmom! A large sailfish with some froggy qualities, like bug eyes and fins that are more like a tadpole’s tail. Sailfish caus they’re fast and frog caus they start in the water but do land stuff later in life. She has a pretty ok relationship with her lusus, who helped her through the rough patch that was “oh fuck im a mutant”.

Love the idea of this! Really clever. The transition of the tadpole combined with the speed of the sailfish fit her image very well! Do they breathe through their skin?

Personality/interests: Januss is constantly impatient and constantly moving. Part of this is just the way she is, part of it is her anxiety to grow up and leave the planet as soon as possible so she can claim governorship over some backwater colony where no one higher up than her can figure out her secret. her passion is vehicle racing, be it ships or cars or spaceships (well, she wants to race spaceships, anyway. when she’s actually off planet.) She has an enormous garage of assorted vehicles in her hive, which is a gargantuan decommissioned spacefighter carrier, half sunk near a sandbar as the dying wish of the former captain.

Sorry to interject. There’s just something very, very funny to me about the idea of a Carpenter Drone just placing a child in a half-sunken spaceship and being like Good Luck. It’s also a great hive location thematically, so good on ya.

She loves giving custom paintjobs and shady modifications to her rides, the latter giving her a nice edge in the less respectable races she participates in (which is all of them.) Her trophies and her killcount on the tracks are both formidable in number, but out of the drivers seat she tends to be a coward. She has few friends, and barely filled quadrants, managing to escape culling only by pulling some strings with her royal status. This isn’t because she’s antisocial, rather she’s terrified someone will figure out her secret. All of her friends are land dwellers because of this, since hanging out underwater for long would probably drown her.

I like the idea of her giving some really wild paintjobs to her rides. Violets are described as the eccentrics, so her reflecting just a little bit of that seadweller tendency could be fun. The shady modifications are also interesting. Does she purchase them on the black market? Have a supplier? Or does she fiddle with them herself? All of the above could be interesting.

Like she could start off buying from a shady person and then move into tinkering with them herself, to… mixed results.

I like the idea of her being a coward, too- it makes sense! If there’s a fair fight on the horizon, she runs the risk of bleeding. And running the risk of bleeding is something she’d never want to do.

I have to point out that she’s not really Currently at risk of being culled for being partnerless. At 7 sweeps, she’d be sitting comfortably at about 15. Though we don’t Really have confirmation of about when the Imperial Drones come knocking, it’s safe to assume it’d be closer to when the trolls are About To Leave Planet, since that’s when they’d be adults. Which means she’s got a little over one sweep to sort her shit out or run. …Or pull some nobility strings, as you’ve mentioned.

I feel like it’s worth noting at this point that Janus is heavily associated with Auspices. So giving her a more firm relationship in that regard might be a good idea just to draw the link.

Despite her cowardice she has a definite ruthless streak even when off the track, it just tends to only be aimed at lowbloods who she’s sure she can take on. While racing she’s even more brutal, and her general cockiness and arrogance combine with this to make her a terrible sport. If you win against her you’re dead as soon as the race is over if she thinks she can take you.

I like this a lot. Especially because it shines a light on a very Purpleblood habit of hers. Purplebloods are said to take their work very seriously (even if their work isn’t often… conventional, by our standards) and to desire to be the Foremost in their field, plus they’re known for being very violent.

Also I hope her underestimating lowbloods comes back to bite her in the ass.

Title: Something of time, for sure, since the whole theme I’m trying to run with Januss is well, literally running. Trying to get into her adult life and away from what she’s afraid of, trying to always be the fastest on the track, her mutation making her a seadweller for only a limited time, et cetera. I don’t have a concrete plot planned for her but you can bet her need to hurry everything will Absolutely Ruin her life bigtime at some point and she’ll have to dig her way out of that. That being said, I can’t decide what class fits her.

I agree with her time assignation so much. The valuing of action, the refusal of passivity even if it’s reckless, the Very strong struggle against fate, the focus on the destination, her restlessness, her ruthlessness… It all checks out!

Now on to her class:

Prince of Time, Prince of Time, Prince of Time, Prince of Time-

Sorry, got excited about that one. I just think with her general ruthless nature and her impatience, prince of time is a Very fitting role for her. She’s someone very active and someone who seems very focused on her own goals. And this title suits that, but in the worst possible ways.

Basically speaking, a Prince of Time is able to destroy time or destroy With time.

Given her impatience and her desire to progress, I can easily see her just destroying segments of time. Deleting them. Poof. Trying to get to where she wants to be as fast as possible. Of course, this would fragment the universe and cause great harm. Skipping out on major segments and very important events could easily distort the timeline. Since inevitability is tied so strongly with the time aspect, Inevitability Itself could be destroyed, which could severely hurt the Alpha Timeline and splinter things to the point of incomprehensibility. Using her time travel in this way could really damage her life and like the lives of everyone across multiple different versions of reality.

She could also destroy through time, like making things experience decay and destruction at a further rate, or bringing about their inevitable demise sooner than expected.

Her inverse, Sylph of Space, would allow her to passively create Space. As she fragments and chews up timelines, more and more Boundless Space is able to exist. Each time she uses this power, she creates another timeline, more theoretical Room in which to operate. Which could lead to some grand ‘working with yourself from another dimension’ fun!

The development needed for this title comes with this: She would have to undergo some major character development to stop from ruining everything. She would have to learn to reign herself in and get herself under control and learn to appreciate the moment before she Destroyed All.

Land: Not sure? I like the idea of a water covered planet where she has to figure out how to lower the water level to properly traverse it, and even after figuring it out the water will only recede very slowly, making her wait. Sort of both a lesson in patience and an acceptance of her mutation? idk

I love this idea. The fact that it would seem like a mockery of her condition at first but it would allow her to slowly come to terms with it. And the teaching her to slow down and smell the roses. Maybe she could stumble upon mysteries and treasures, things she absolutely would’ve missed if she’d been able to rush through the planet.

Dream Planet: Derse for sure.

Wow this is very long. I’ll send over the picture in another submission.

Here’s Januss! Left is living that highblood life, right is in session after she’s become comfortable letting that go. She wears the goggles during her races as her highblood self, and more or less all the time later, since she’s found that when she dosen’t have to keep up an elaborate lie around water, she likes it a lot better.

I’ll be honest there’s not much I had to edit for her.

LEFT SIDE-

Horns and hair: I kept them the same. But let me tell you spriting that hair wasn’t easy! Very fun, though.

Fins: I edited them to be slightly smaller than the traditional seadweller fins!

Eyes: I wanted to make them nicely sharp and with some dark lines to make sure they looked defined and dangerous. I also had to give her some eyelashes because of troll rules.

Mouth: I loved it so it gets to stick how it was.

Clothes: I took John’s ectobiologist jacket and edited it so thoroughly I almost considered skipping on mentioning it, but that’d be rude. Either way, I liked most of the detail and really liked how it looks kind of like an admiral’s jacket. I decided to take the jacket and extend it down into the pants, though. For two reasons, really:

1. The original pants color looked too much like purpleblood and I thought it’d be antithetical to her trying to hide her blood condition to wear such a large amount of it on her clothes.

2. Combining them together reminded me of racecar driver jumpers!

Shoes: They’re just some pretty simple and straightforward boots.

RIGHT SIDE-

Horns, hair, fins, eyes: See above.

Goggles: I liked them a lot, so I kept them around. I just took the outline of her shirt and created an overlay with it, and then put a screen for reflective light.

Mouth: Purpleblood lipstick, like in your original art.

Symbol: I couldn’t really see the detail of the symbol really well on your original drawing, so I tried to create what I could tell of it as best as I could. It looks a liiittle similar to Capripia, but that’s fine. I think the straight edge ends and the curled wings as well as the rounded diamond set it apart enough and I think it takes enough notes from her Aquaries symbol to be at least recognizable in context!

Pants: Because she’s a purpleblood I didn’t want to leave her without some neat patterned flourish. So I added a checker pattern to one leg. Mostly because I’ve seen a lot of motorcycle racers with those kinds of patterns on their legs. And it makes her look edgy.

Boots: The same but edited to have more gold and purple.

Thank you so much for sharing her, I absolutely loved her and loved working on her!

-CD

#tuesdaney #januss celera #januss #celera #violetblood #purpleblood #mutantblood #(technically?)#seadweller #(kind of?)#submission #review #redesign #cd review

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trashboatprince · 7 years

Text

Mind Games

The Ink Demon, be him a cartoon or a real monster, has always enjoyed a good game.

I actually wrote this for a batim-based au on one of my side blogs here (a few of you guys following me have already read the original version on that blog, haha).

But I really liked how I wrote this and with a few name changes, I could fit it with the canon series. Plus I do headcanon "Bendy" as being very unpredictable, always messing with Henry, never actually... killing him, so to say. With that said, I would like to state that Henry, in my mind, doesn't 'die' at the hands of "Bendy", more like "Bendy" uses the demonic ink to just respawn the guy, to be an annoying pest more than anything else.

Imagine, thinking you're about to die, but the next thing you know, you're sitting in a puddle of ink in front of a smiling, mocking statue of the guy who just killed you.

Annoying.

Anyway, on with the fic! (Can also be found on my ao3 right here!)

“Bendy”, as he seems to have been labeled, is not like any of the other creatures and beings that roam the dusty, damp halls of the long-forgotten studio.

When he is out and about, he likes to keep himself entertained, exploring the place at random, never giving much of a warning until it is too late. The moment he enters a room, the walls creep with black lines of his ink, of his power. You only have seconds to avoid him, if he hasn't spotted you by then, that is. He knows he scares those sentient enough to understand how much of a threat he really is.

And those who do not understand…?

Well…

It’s always rather fun to watch them die.

The return of his dear ‘creator’, the one who first put ink to paper and made his original design, has caused things around this old place to become more interesting.

Henry’s arrival brought change, brought new events.

Yes, he wanted Henry to die, to suffer for making him into… well, for being a reason behind his 'creation', for abandoning the place he helped establish, and leaving his characters to their miserable fates. But “Bendy” likes to play games, especially games that are rather trickster-ish, and since his change, his favorite is always to keep his prey on its toes.

He’s been watching, from the cutouts, the stickers, the posters.

Always keeping tabs on Henry, watching him as he wanders the halls, trusty axe in hand. He isn’t pleased when the human broke his cutout in the music studio in a fit of annoyed rage, but luckily for the Ink Demon, a cutout on a seal can always just fix itself.

He doesn’t like when his things are damaged, but that ridiculous being, Sammy, was wise to place his cutouts near seals, even if they are used for worship.

What a foolish man.

“Bendy” had fun when Henry played with the projector, and the demon was quick to set up his little display of a one-man band of cutouts to startle the creator.

The noises in the pipes? The faint whistling, the clattering above?

The Ink Demon’s doing, just for fun.

Gotta keep Henry's on his toes, make him scared of even his own shadow.

He wasn’t pleased when Sammy knocked out his little plaything, going to use him as a sacrifice for his so-called lord. Returning that fool to the inky streams that ran throughout the building was most pleasing, no one is allowed to play with his things.

Boris keeping Henry safe put a damper in “Bendy's” fun, the demon just… couldn’t find it in him to harm the wolf, no matter what. Not after all the damage he had seen caused by that so-called 'angel'…

Speaking of her, she took his stuff!

She has Henry in her clutches and she won’t let “Bendy” have him back!

Well… two can play at that game, he’ll just have to play with the creator when she’s not looking.

Repetitive tasks? Out in the open?

Excellent chance to have his fun with Henry!

A sneak attack, crushing his throat for just a moment, a bit of demonic ink in his mouth and… throw him into his ink!

A voice in the ink, to guide the human, just a bit of help to keep this game going.

Oh look! Henry has returned, by one of the cute statues of Bendy! It worked, he’s not dead, but he’s terrified and possibly scarred for life! How delightful.

Those disgusting sludge creatures? The mutated wannabe-toons?

Those things need to get out of “Bendy’s” way while he plays with his things.

A bit of his inky lines, and they become unstable, dying right in front of a hiding Henry, showing the human just what he can do without even touching something.

She’s making Henry break his things, she’s getting him involved in business that has nothing to do with him… she’s playing a dangerous game, oh yes… she’s on the thinnest of frozen ink, isn't she...?

She won’t let the Dancing Demon into her sanctuary, she’s got wards up, she’s got areas with no ink for him to access.

The angel is smarter than he gives her credit for.

Well then, he’ll just have to destroy her things in return, seeing as he knows she won’t leave her safe haven to stop him…

But first?

He would like to remind Henry that she is also a threat, not just him, and, that… well… devils are unpredictable things, aren’t they?

Maybe a few things here and there will gives Henry a breather, but a reminder that there is more to this place than just what he sees, what he hears.

A few hints, from voices of the past.

A hidden axe, stronger than the last, hidden away in a closed off closet.

Little objects, hidden away for him only.

Soup to keep up his stamina for the chase.

Boris is kept safe, no touching.

Staying out of the Projectionist's sanctuary, even though it is a perfect place for an attack.

A valve turned here…

Less ink there…

A push of a button…

A voice from happier days, to remind him of who he created, hidden in a once-flooded room.

Acting as if he doesn’t know that Henry is hiding.

Let the human put his guard down a little, but keep him watching the shadows.

That’s the fun of playing games, always keep them calm, but nervous.

What’s your next move, dear creator?

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #henry batim #bendy the dancing demon #helmsman's writing

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amorremanet · 7 years

Note

OC asks/questions: 8, 15, 21, 25, 32? Also if that's not already too much: finish the sentence meme for Lucy?

Okay, I did intend to do the finish the sentence meme, but as it stands, it’s almost 4AM and I’ve been binge-watching old Outside X-Box list videos to stay awake, so…… I’ll get back to that one

8: What’s the most common physical characteristic of your OCs? What about personality trait?

Physically, a lot of my OCs are ridiculously tall. I blame having my concept of average human heights skewed when I was a child, due to having several ridiculously tall relatives, and then having my ideas further skewed in my adolescence by a mix of shoujo and magical girl anime/manga (where the hottest characters, like Tenou Haruka, or designated love interest characters, like Chiba Mamoru and Kashino Rei, the “troubled but cute” pretty boy from MARS, are tall), and the Vampire Chronicles (where most of the vampires are tall, beautiful, and incredibly gay or bisexual)

Personality-wise, “troubled but cute” is probably my most overused character type. Even more specifically, “troubled, but cute, and they have a good heart, they’re trying their best, but they’re still troubled and sometimes (often) make incredibly bad decisions because I felt like it would be a fun time to make them do so”

15: Do you have any AUs? — Short answer: yes. Longer answer: yes, and some of them are going to be canon, because I have the self-restraint of a magpie, and figured that…… eh, whatever, screw it, I’m nixing several of the other more credulity-straining and ridiculous elements of the by-its-very-nature ridiculous and credulity-straining superhero genre, so I can have a canon multiverse if I please. Which I do, because it’s fun. For me. Anyway, some of the canon AUs are:

The AU where most of the major points are still the same, but also, Silent Hill. Not that it will actually be called, “Silent Hill” because of blah blah copyright, but I primarily got the idea of, “horrible demonic monsters conjured out of people’s guilt and psychological issues” from the Silent Hill series, and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t.

Also, unlike Silent Hill proper, the nasty pieces of work in this universe do not have the decency to just stay confined to one small town in Middle of Nowhere, Maine. They’re everywhere.

Anyway, some of the characters from this AU get dragged into the prime timeline (tentatively) in book three, as part of a Totally Brilliant (not really) scheme by a handful of the fascist supervillain douchebags to distract that annoying ragtag band of misfit anti-fascist heroes from the actual evil plan going on. Nobody is happy about this.

Especially not when some of the monsters decide to join in on the universe-hopping fun-times. Whoops.

The AU where a lot of the major points are more or less the same, but human technology is more advanced and, in keeping with some of the more idealistic mid-20th century sci-fi concepts, while our cast in the prime timeline are dealing with neo-fascism and shit, humans in this AU are getting welcomed into It’s Not The Federation From Star Trek Because I Don’t Want to Get Sued, But It Is Basically The Same Idea, and dating aliens.

Pete’s AU counterpart got into what is basically an alien university’s MFA program in theatre. He’s the first Terran to do so, period. He has an alien boyfriend, he has never been to rehab (though, uh. He’s still an addict. And still using. So, there’s that), and his prime-timeline counterpart is going to initially think he’s pretty awesome, and progressively get super sick of basically everything about him.

The AU where Seb, Pete, Stephen, Josie, and Todd are essentially a boy band. Because of reasons. Anyone who gets dragged into the prime timeline from this AU is going to be really confused by literally everything else, because this AU is probably the closest one to how our own universe works, so like…… Imagine that you abruptly get yanked into [pick a superhero comic book universe], after a lifetime of believing that it’s all, “just stories.” It would be confusing and more than a bit alienating.

Which is not to say that this AU is all rainbows and kittens or whatever, but the problems facing the main cast are things like, “Everyone in the band has to be closeted because there’s still homophobia and transphobia,”

“Pete and Josie have probably never gotten treatment for their respective eating disorders, and Stephen may well have developed one from the fact that, boy bands are generally not allowed to have fat members, which would also mean that he’s ridiculously unhealthy since his body’s happy, healthy place? Just so happens to be fat,”

“On one hand, Todd and maybe Pete have probably never had substance abuse problems. But on the other hand, Seb still has and it’s probably very seriously exacerbated by several factors,” and so on.

Which isn’t to say that those things aren’t important and complicated problems, or that the prime timeline characters DON’T have to deal with similar things just because they’re in a superhero world (since…… they DO have to deal with those things or at least very similar ones)

But there’s a pretty significant difference between things like, “trying to stay clean” and, “trying to prevent a bunch of neo-fascist supervillain douchebags from staging a bullshit fake attack at a debate between potential Republican nominees for the US presidency, which will probably end up killing a bunch of people if it’s allowed to go on, and is part of a longer-running, slow-burn scheme to essentially make this dickbag senator from Virginia the President-in-All-But-Name”

And the boy band AU characters are super-unprepared to deal with the latter sort of problem

The AU where it’s a vaguely cyberpunk dystopia because I felt like it, that’s why.

The AU where instead of superpowers, everyone has magic

Which is going to frustrate Lucy to no end, when she has to meet her AU self from this universe, because sure, this AU has different systems and rules for how the magic works, but no one can tell her what the Hell makes it go aside from, “idk, it’s magic” and that’s not an acceptable explanation to her

—But, as she’s going to hear from someone, this isn’t actually any different from how superpowers work in the main timeline, like? They know that the superpowers are caused by genetic mutations. They can figure out different ways of handling said superpowers and systems of how to approach and understand them……

But if we look at Josie’s telepathy/empathy, Lucy’s hemokinesis, Sara Grace’s super-speed and neato super-voice tricks, Seb’s “they don’t call it lycanthropy but only because that’s already a thing; it’s essentially lycanthropy with a shot of therianthropy, animal empathy, and a healing factor that would make Deadpool jealous,” Yael’s ferrokinesis and magnetism powers, All-Star Doctor Delphi’s status as the resident flying brick with heat vision, Elizabeth’s telepathy/telekinesis, Conrad’s telepathy/mental manipulation, Julian’s empathic abilities and emotional manipulation that can be a super-effective Jedi Mind Trick and then some when used effectively, Sylvia and Vince’s essentially omni-shapeshifting, the fact that Annie can turn her own tears, saliva, and blood into all kinds of fun chemicals (from toxins and acids, to myriad medicines), ET CETERA?

……Yeah, uh. In the end, the best explanation that anyone has for why any of that works, in-universe, is essentially, “Because it just does.”

So… essentially the same explanation as, “A wizard did it,” but it’s pretending to be scientific.

Lucy does not like being confronted with this hypocrisy, but she’s just gonna need to put on her big girl shoes and deal with it.

The AU where I don’t actually have most of the details about it worked out, but in the prime timeline’s December 2007, it abruptly became the new home of All-Stars member Penumbra (nee Victoria Brandt) and supervillains Dr. Neutron and Necrotara. They all got dumped in it when Penumbra stopped them from unleashing a super-plague on New York City… by opening up a rift in space-time, throwing them into it, and plunging after them because that was the only way she knew to seal it before it ate New York.

This AU will also get dragged into the prime timeline, though: 1. that’s more of an accident because Titus, Dezi, Eddie, and Tamsin have no goddamn idea what they’re doing and are meddling with forces they can’t control (especially not Dezi and Eddie, who have no powers to speak of and are miserably inept at pretty much everything);

and 2. It’s a bigger deal to the All-Stars than to the main cast, especially to Ruby Marvel (Penumbra’s on-off girlfriend), Zephyr Haze (who really looked up to Penumbra, and she was one of the few team members who believed that he was ready to be anything more than Doctor Delphi’s sidekick), and Slingshot (her on-off boyfriend, who has totally failed to move on from what happened, and if not for Captain Firebrand and Platinum Man revoking his ability to get into R&D without a babysitter, he likely would’ve broken space-time to get Penumbra back years ago)

Like, I’m not saying, “He has handled this like Silver Age Spiderman trying to kill the Green Goblin as vengeance for Norman Osborne murdering Gwen Stacy.”

I’m saying, “Slingshot has handled Penumbra’s effective death like that thing I just said magnified by a power of ten because, as far as he knows, getting her back into the prime timeline could potentially be cataclysmic, and he does not care. He has also spectacularly failed to listen to any and all attempts at getting him to respect her choice here, and the only reason he hasn’t gone full grimdark like a mid-90’s to mid-2000’s Dark Age drama-bomb of toxic masculinity and manpain? Is that he isn’t allowed into R&D at All-Stars Tower without a babysitter.”

However this AU works, Adelaide’s AU counterpart is going to be kind of a mess at getting dragged into the prime timeline, on one hand because her prime timeline self doesn’t have powers but decided to affiliate herself with a bunch of heroes anyway (while dumpster fire AU!Adelaide has superpowers and has been a hero and it’s gone Other Than Well for her), and on the other because her prime timeline brothers are alive and haven’t gotten killed by her supervillain nemeses

Dumpster fire AU!Adelaide is going to be more of a mess over a lot of things like, “On one hand, her little brother lived past 20 and swears he’s got a good life and his boyfriend is nice (yay!), but on the other, he’s a mentally ill recovering addict and also a superhero and for some reason, her prime timeline self is, as far as dumpster fire AU!Adelaide can tell, just okay with this”

And, “Her prime timeline self has a niece who actually knows what it’s like to have a father in her life, because dumpster fire AU!Adelaide’s Max got killed off while Linda was pregnant and Linda is probably a great single mom, but dumpster fire AU!Adelaide wouldn’t know because after Seb and Ambrose had both gotten killed (albeit by different villains), the common theme that emerged was the boys getting killed by supervillains and having a superhero sister, and okay, Linda did not explicitly blame Adelaide (Linda’s feelings about all of this are conflicted and messy)

“—but dumpster fire!Adelaide decided that the best thing to do was to basically cut herself off from friends, family, and loved ones, barring her AU’s Pete, who has become her co-hero, and a dog, because like her baby brother, Adelaide loves dogs and sometimes uses them as a substitute for interpersonal contact and connections”

Prime timeline Addie is seriously weirded out by her AU self’s complete lack of chill. Which says a lot, because Addie-prime actively repels anything that even vaguely resembles chill.

The AU where Margot and Seb didn’t get to be friends in undergrad, and her parents never disowned her, and she wound up filthy rich in her own right and having far fewer near brushes with death…… but also wound up: closeted and basically leading a double-life to keep from getting outed; very lonely; more miserable than she would like to think; and taking more than a few cues from Adrian “Ozymandias” Veidt of Watchmen

—Which is to say that, while she still doesn’t have any literal superpowers, she is deeply closeted and convinced that the only way to save humanity from itself might just need to involve doing something extreme that successfully makes humanity put aside their differences and unite against a perceived larger threat (and also distracts them so that Margot and her loosely affiliated AU associates can, “solve the underlying problems” unimpeded)

As prime timeline Margot will definitely point out: ideas like that literally only work on paper or in theory. In practice, humans are chaotic and messy and impossible to predict with any real accuracy, so there is no possible way to guarantee that killing a bunch of people and blaming it on aliens or whatever will make everyone decide to get along and sing songs underneath of a rainbow like some vintage Coca-Cola commercial.

Oh, and if Ozymandias AU!Margot actually thinks that nobody will notice if she and her cohorts, what, like…… use the world banks to redistribute the world’s wealth and make sure that the 1% can’t get it back (which would include AU!Margot herself and her cohorts, even though most of them don’t know she’s planning to do that), change a bunch of laws and policies they don’t agree with, and institute some kind of secret shadow government over the entire world?

Here’s a hint, Ozymandias AU!Margot: people will definitely notice that, and a lot of them won’t be too keen on letting you get away with it.

Furthermore, not only will people definitely notice that, but it won’t actually fix things as much as you want it to do. It would have some benefits, sure, and some of the ideas you’re trying to put into practice here are not inherently bad — like redistributing the wealth and putting hella restrictions on the same patterns of capitalist exploitation that made you rich in the first place — but one of the underlying flaws in AU!Margot’s approach is that, again, she’s ignoring the human element of everything

In other words: sure, redistributing the wealth is a nice idea and it would definitely have some positive benefits, but you cannot magic away the scars of aforementioned capitalist exploitation by throwing money at them, nor should you expect people who have been exploited, dehumanized, murdered, etc. under said patterns to not be upset about their suffering just because they now have money.

More generally, expecting people to always react in predictable ways is a bad idea. Expecting people to be okay with things that you erroneously think you would totally be okay with, if you were in their position is a bad idea. Behaving like a supervillain, even if you think you’re doing it for the right reasons and even if there might be some temporary short-term benefits? Is a BAD IDEA (especially when your plans have some major, egregious oversights).

Also, ew, Ozymandias AU!self, but out of all the ladies with whom you could be having a secret affair, why the fuck are you having it with your AU’s Melanie Drake (the firstborn daughter of the guy who the prime timeline Biggest Bad wants to put in power as his puppet, who is, herself, an active and enthusiastic participant in fascist supervillain hijinks).

In Ozymandias AU!Margot’s defense, her universe’s Melanie still has the conviction that everything she’s doing is for the Greater Good, but although she hasn’t gotten away from her nuclear reactor meltdown of an abusive shit-show family, she did come to believe in a different vision of, “the Greater Good.”

I mean. The nicest thing that can be said about it is that her vision of, “the Greater Good” isn’t a fascistic one and is, much like Ozymandias AU!Margot’s entire scheme, largely born out of good or at least okay-ish intentions, but really fucked up wrt the execution. But it’s not like Ozymandias AU!Margot is having a secret sexy affair with a neo-fascist supervillain.

She’s…… uh. Having a secret sexy affair with someone else who, in their AU, considers herself to be, “one of the heroes that this world needs but won’t accept,” and both of them are pretty fucked up, morally and ethically speaking, though not so much so that they wouldn’t be horrified by the Melanie of the prime timeline (who is, in fairness, pretty horrific. She’s also engaged to Titus, who is equally horrible but for some different reasons)

Anyway, the point is that Margot-prime super doesn’t expect any Melanie to be the secret girlfriend for any of her AU selves, and she’s really not happy about it, but also biased due to shit like, “Melanie-prime is an actual facts fascist supervillain”

And shit like, “Melanie-prime has hurt Margot-prime’s friends, and no, she doesn’t care that it was always in a superhero vs. supervillain fight, or that Seb has a healing factor, or that Pete accidentally made shit get violent on at least one occasion by running his mouth when he knew that he should have shut up, or that Lucy has run headlong into situations where a little bit of chill could’ve gone a long way and then people started throwing punches, la la la, go away context, Margot can’t hear you, Melanie has hurt her friends And That’s Terrible”

The mundane AU where, in addition to not being superheroes, Seb and Stephen met each other about ten years earlier and were a lot less gun-shy about being super into each other, not least because neither of them had been burned too badly in romance before (even given that they’d both had some negative experiences with it), and while both of them still had some big deal underlying issues with self-esteem, neither of them played any weird little head-games with himself to the tune of, “Oh, I shouldn’t voice my interest because he’s probably not interested in me because reasons, he’s probably just being nice”

On one hand, this AU wound up sparing both of them certain shitty experiences that their prime-timeline counterparts dealt with in their 20’s (not all of them, granted, and like — this AU’s Seb is still a recovering addict, and this AU’s Stephen has still dealt with a ton of bullshit about body image and fatphobia).

But on the other, they broke up and it’s…… amicable? Mostly? But still kind of emotionally tense for several reasons, not least of which is how instead of playing any, “he’s probably not really interested” head-games with themselves at the outset of their relationship and working through it, they were together for a long time, and danced around the idea of getting married…

…but neither of them told the other about wanting to get married because each of them thought that the other would never be into that idea because Reasons. Presumptions were made, miscommunication ensued, they eventually split up, each of them took it as a definite sign of, “I was right, he never would’ve been into getting married,” and they’ve mostly moved on and repaired the non-romantic friendship parts here.

Until they get dragged into the prime timeline and find that their counterparts are significantly more messed up as individuals but actually making a relationship work, but also at a point of, “They’ve been having some issues that have nothing to do with the superhero thing, and each of them is kind of seriously thinking about proposing but keeps getting cold feet about it”

Watching your alternate universe selves get engaged in the middle of a drag show on one of their birthdays is…… special.

Doing so after telling one or the other of them why you ever broke up is…… uh. Let’s just call it, “double special” and move on.

Also, powerless AU!Seb…… will be really conflicted about his prime timeline self being a superhero, partly out of concern (since this hero business seems to be working out okay, but it all sounds stressful and dangerous, and yes, Seb-prime literally can’t get intoxicated anymore — at least, not on any of the, “normal stuff,” i.e., “psychoactive substances that were not created by other mutants” — but…… how is being a superhero NOT a relapse trigger waiting to happen. To paraphrase Joan Watson, how is being a superhero NOT a giant gun filled with drugs and alcohol, pointed right at Seb-prime)

…partly out admiration (because the superhero stuff actually is working out decently, and powerless AU!Seb has to respect his prime timeline counterpart’s hijinks and dedication to helping people)

……and partly out of jealousy and getting kicked in the, “you’re kind of a worthless fuck-up, aren’t you?” feelings

because yes, powerless!Seb has found his own bliss in academia, and he is more or less at peace with it, most of the time……

but he’s torn because he wants to be helping people, and he largely went down the academic track to help himself

—which, in this case, means, “to something to work on and do with himself that wouldn’t feel like a complete waste of time, even if it didn’t exactly make him feel fulfilled, because he needed something to do other than, ‘try to find peace and sobriety by isolating himself from as much of life as possible,’” so it’s not like he is being selfish in a way that actively screws over anyone else; he is being selfish in a way that displays self-preservation—

—and okay, powerless!Seb has a list of things that he tries to tell himself about how this life-choice isn’t antithetical to the idea of helping people because he mentors students, and his research helps in X or Y or Z convoluted fashion, and he uses his access to academic databases to get around paywalls for other people who don’t have that access and to then hook them up with what they need……

But that’s still not the kind of helping people that he wanted to get into and it doesn’t really feel like he’s helping anyone, and it’s a pretty big kick in the stomach for him to get yanked into the prime timeline and see Seb-prime… actively helping other people as a superhero and ostensibly doing better at staying sober because of the superhero thing, rather than in spite of it, and what the fuck, how is this FAIR, how come he can do that and powerless!Seb CAN’T)

Even without the part where Seb-prime literally can’t get intoxicated on, “the normal stuff” anymore, the situation is a lot more complicated than powerless!Seb thinks it is, but in fairness to him, he’s probably only been stuck in this unfamiliar timeline for two weeks, max, when he has this little jealousy-induced meltdown

He probably ends up getting helped to chill out by Stephen-prime, which is its own messy and confusing kettle of monkeys for both parties because of intricate, complicated ontological questions like, “Is it cheating if I don’t actually do anything with my (ex-)boyfriend’s alternate universe counterpart, but feel attracted to him and definitely THINK about doing things with him?”

……The sad part is that all four of these losers WOULD actually make that complicated question, but it would be less because of the actual thorny issues about being and the nature of existence, and more because all of them would have a mental double-standard like, “Well, if I did it, then it would definitely be wrong, but it wouldn’t be wrong if my boyfriend did it because of reasons”

Seb and Stephen-prime may not need to deal with that specific question but the whole underlying, “Things that other people are allowed to do are wrong when I do them because of reasons” business is something they have to suck it up and work on, as individuals and in the context of their relationship

The AU where Josie actually got to go into fashion design, because they didn’t have their entire career ruined before it began by a mix of a douchebag ex-boyfriend whose parents were in good with Anna Wintour, and an abrupt, stress-triggered anorexic relapse that led to an even more stressful superpower awakening

Keeping with the, “mirror mirror on the wall, it’s fuck with my characters o’clock, let’s go…… all” theme among a lot of these AUs and the different respective versions of the characters, fashionista AU!Josie has a lot of things that Josie-prime wants and a lot of aspects of their life make Josie-prime jealous, but they are actually a huge mess in their own right

I’m still working out how, exactly, they are a huge mess, and so far, all I’ve really thought of is that it would amuse me if they were dating their AU’s Todd, but I’m not sure where I want to go with that and it’s also not actually going to be an issue for a while yet, so the idea has time to percolate

and the canonical coffee-shop AU.

The canonical coffee-shop AU is a horrifying dystopia where the bad guys won before most of the main cast were even ten years old — like, that AU’s Lucy and Sara Grace literally have no conscious memories of life ever being any different, they were that young when everything went to Hell — and that AU’s version of Senator Huntington (R-Virginia), the aforementioned Biggest Bad, took a lot of cues from Brave New World about how to run his dystopia

Like, there are several things that he would nix

e.g., the ostensible sex-positivity and alleged sexual equality of Aldous Huxley’s dystopia that is, in its own way, just another way of creating sex/gender-based INequality and blah blah blah

That would go right out the window because as far as dystopias go, wrt sex and the (im)morality thereof? Huntington thinks that Margaret Atwood’s Republic of Gideon from The Handmaid’s Tale had more or less the right idea, though he would also acquiesce that, if you want it to work, you’d need to build up to that, rather than dumping it on everyone all at once

He would also nix some of the more scientific aspects of the BNW dystopia, because he realizes that they’re not actually as likely to work out decently as Huxley seems to have thought in the novel

Like, Huntington would definitely still want there to be several strata of social inequalities that all serve to support a big pyramid that he can be on top of

……but he wouldn’t want to have those things artificially created in a lab because he thinks that sex is the best way to control a lot of the people under his power because even the ones who aren’t “perverts” — which, to him, means basically everyone who isn’t a heterosexual who only ever wants to have sex in the missionary position for the express purpose of procreation — are still “weakened” by their dependence on human connections (read: any desire to have meaningful human connections), and all of them inevitably want those connections to be expressed through sex because they’re all idiots in the end

For the record: Huntington’s attitude about sex is derived from the attitudes of real-world right-wing Christians in the States who love to play the game of shaming anyone who has any sexual desires, ever, because even though they also say that said desires come from God because they’re expressions of love and whatnot, they could just as easily come from Satan if the preacher in question doesn’t approve of them, personally.

The religious aspect only seems pasted-on whenever Huntington talks about any of this because…… Well, for him? It is. He doesn’t actually believe in God, or Jesus, or much of anything beyond his own power and his own right to have whatever he wants because he showed up and decided he deserves it.

Any time he talks about God or religion, he’s merely catering to his constituents by playing a version of himself who DOES believe in God because he’s reasonably certain he would never hold any elected office if he didn’t project the image of being a righteous, God-fearing man who is filled with the love of Jesus. But I digress.

So, yeah. Brave New!Huntington wouldn’t want to have all of his social inequalities baked into the population due to how people are grown in laboratories, but the general idea of, “keep the populace medicated into submission, throw them some bread and circuses and maybe a bit of pasted-on happiness, don’t let them think for themselves but give them the illusion of thinking for themselves, etc.”? Huntington is all about that.

Another reason why he vetoes the, “let’s grow all humans in laboratory test tubes lmao” idea is that he figures he can better play into the idea of all people being essentially equal, which helps keep the populace docile as long as they believe in it, if he lets them handle their own relationships and procreation. Like, regulate it in certain ways, and only give The Gay Agenda (i.e., everyone who isn’t straight) as much wiggle room as will keep them from noticing that equality is a lie, but don’t interfere too much because getting hung up on all that interpersonal drama keeps them from noticing the actual problems

Either way, the canonical coffee-shop AU is a horrid, dystopian hellscape and the main cast’s counterparts in that AU are okay with their lots in life — where, for example, Conrad actually is just a wacky eccentric uncle and not using that façade to try and teach Marie a kiddie version of Why Fascism Is Totally Cool, just in case she ends up being a mutant too, and Julian is a provocateur in that he argues with anyone who tries to sit in His Spot at the coffee-shop, rather than because he uses his platform and charisma to pick at prejudices and stir the pot in ways that incite violence — because they’re all drugged, they’re all being lied to, some of them don’t remember life ever being anything else, and when some of them get yanked into the prime timeline, uh.

Well.

That will be interesting to me, personally, because there’s going to be a lot of disagreement among all involved parties about all of this and what it all means

But ngl, this canonical AU literally started because I was reading coffee-shop AU superhero fics, looking at my own ragtag bunch of superheroic misfits, and going, “God, what WOULD it take for them to actually exist in a coffee-shop AU? Because the conventional coffee-shop AU set-up wouldn’t even allow for any of them to be recovering addicts or abuse survivors, much less actively upset about any injustices in the world (beyond maybe being a Soapbox Sadie type for a scene or two before getting swept up in the inevitable romance that will dominate literally everything about the fic) or affected by shit like homophobia, racism, ableism, sexism, etc. (because if we dealt with those issues, it might not be sexy or romantic, or at the very least, it would seriously distract from the OTP and their amazing love story). The most anyone is ever allowed to be in a coffee-shop AU is pleasantly eccentric or Troubled But Cute With The Emphasis On Cute”

Which is all a long-form way of saying that I came up with an entire canonical dystopian coffee-shop AU in a thought exercise that came out of being tolerant of coffee-shop AUs but also really bored with them and low-key frustrated about their dominance of fanfiction things for the past few years because while I understand the appeal of the escapism that’s inherent in most of them (and there are some that I even enjoy), I find it kind of depressing that so many of them end up being such that you could probably find and replace the names of one fandom’s characters with another fandom’s characters and it would essentially be the same story, and all of the things that drew people to the original stories will be gone while almost none of the problems of the original stories will actually be fixed (—and at that, the most likely, “fixing” is probably going to be, “a white cis M/M otp is injected into things where, in their respective canon, they are Just Dudes Bein’ Bros”)

……Which is a long-form way of saying that I did the thing out of frustration with coffee-shop AUs (and probably a bit because rereading all the classic dystopian lit pieces at once isn’t really the best idea ever, whoops)

21: Describe each of your OCs as shittily as possible.

okay, I did these all out of order, and after going in so hard on the AUs and polyships questions, it’s 3:15 in the morning and I’m just going to phone this in

Sebastian: yes, he’s a human disaster and a serious mess, but at least he’s trying, okay

Pete: local man delivers scathing verbal smackdown and makes you say, “thanks” for the honor

Margot: the mean chain-smoking lesbian with a heart of gold that your parents didn’t warn you about but should have, probably

Josie: local goth makes everyone else look under-dressed, feels bad about things

Todd: hipster garbage who isn’t nearly as underground as he thinks

Lucy: okay but have you guys considered how superpowers could be used to address public health crises

Stephen: the human embodiment of that moment when you get so excited about the punchline of the joke you’re telling that you laugh at it preemptively and can’t finish the joke but hey, at least everyone is smiling now, right

Sara Grace: local ballerina princess will probably never get over her physical inability to cuddle every cat on the planet

Conrad: “hey why are you getting upset i’m just trying to deny your right to be considered fully human unless you fit my specific ideas about what that is lmao”

Julian: sinnamon roll that you bought at a backwoods gas station at three in the morning, then lost on the floor of your car for two years, and now it’s all grody and probably a biohazard

Annie: perpetually screaming, just at life in general

Adelaide: she’s not telling you what to do, she’s just saying that her way is probably better even when it likely isn’t

Yael: is probably your favorite Jewish lesbian grandma, unless you think that she should chill, in which case not so much

Max: had his younger sister be his best man when he got married, out of his depth with most things, *glinting glasses of intimidation*

25: What sorts of symbols/items/~aesthetics~/colours represent each OC?

and it is now 3:30 and I’ve got absolutely nothing for this one beyond the fact that Margot, Josie, and Pete all wear a lot of black

Josie because they’re still something of a teenage goth queen at heart despite being a responsible adult

Margot because it’s both professional and somewhat intimidating, which she likes because she’s compensating for only being 4’11”

and Pete says it’s because he works in the theatre, which isn’t wrong, but even if he didn’t, he’d still wear a lot of black because he thinks it looks good on him (which is fair enough because it does)

Conrad and Max are associated with gray (though Conrad is also associated with white and “that annoying shade of blonde that is very nearly white but not exactly; the Draco Malfoy or Any Given Member Of House Targaryen shade of blonde”)

Sebastian gets a lot of dog associations (partly because he has six of them and partly because he is, as mentioned, essentially a werewolf though that does slightly depend on your definition of, “werewolf”)

and Stephen loves hot pink and eye-searing acid green, sometimes simultaneously

32: Do you have any polyam ships with your OCs?

Well, I already sort of went there in the AUs question, but personally, I would love Seb-prime/powerless!Seb/powerless!Stephen/Stephen-prime — but in general, I always love any and all ships that involve selfcest, whether they’re polyships or not, so I don’t really think this one counts

The polyship that I’ve probably given the most thought to so far is Seb/Stephen/Todd, and ngl, I’ve given it said thought largely due to the fact that……… well.

I wouldn’t call them a love triangle, exactly, but let’s be real: SMeyer and SCollins didn’t want to call Bella/Edward/Jacob and Gale/Katniss/Peeta, “love triangles” either, and while I’d agree that the latter case is a bit more complicated due to how Katniss spends the majority of the series having no interest in either one of the boys involved, the Twilight example is definitely a love triangle, and anyway, my point is that I’m no better than SMeyer and SCollins about going, “Oh, it’s not a love triangle!” because I fear the messy associations that come with accusations of writing love triangles even when I am blatantly doing so

And in general, I do believe in the sentiment of, “Less love triangles, more functional polyamory” — but the, “functional” part of that is a big reason why Seb/Stephen/Todd is not going to canonically go in the polyamory direction. It could, and given the canonical multiverse, there are definitely a few universes where it does

But in the prime timeline, a polyamorous relationship with those three would probably be a disaster — and frankly, a lot of it would be on Todd because Seb and Stephen both also have issues with communicating, self-esteem, honesty (with Stephen’s issue being more that he encourages everyone else to be honest while also trying to at least partially censor his own feelings in the interests of keeping the peace, while Seb’s issue is that he constantly lies to himself to try and convince himself that everything is fine because he feels like he’d just muck up everything for everyone by ever being Not Fine), and a laundry list of other things

But they’re also trying to work on those things.

Stephen is at a better place, wrt self-awareness and working on things, than Seb is, but he’s also been working on it longer and, for all the missteps he’s admittedly had in it because that’s just a part of this process for everyone, he didn’t have to deal with things like, “the aftermath of being kidnapped and shot by ecoterrorist ex-boyfriend who was not happy about getting dumped by a junky”

Or things like, “help, my brother’s unctuous brother-in-law keeps trying to befriend me after I drunkenly sucked his dick at my brother’s wedding reception and unwittingly broke up the marriage that I didn’t know the brother-in-law had, he keeps trying to befriend me despite my vocal lack of interest in being friends with him, also he’s been telepathically fucking with me for about eleven years”

Todd, on the other hand, has the self-awareness of a toothbrush, and that is a massive insult to toothbrushes.

He has worked on SOME things about himself, but usually only to the extent that he needs to work on them in order to feel like he’s doing an okay job on his own sobriety (which, in fairness, he is, but acting like sobriety is his only problem ever is disingenuous as Hell), and he isn’t working on most of his non-sobriety-related problems because, bless his heart, he doesn’t realize that they are problems.

I mean, this is a guy who is going to crash Seb and Stephen’s first morning after by showing up on Seb’s doorstep on a Sunday morning with a bunch of junk from his apartment, going, “Hey, so, I don’t mean to be a buzzkill when you look weirdly happy for once because it’s good that you look happy, I support you being happy, but also I might be getting kicked out of my place tomorrow and may also have been lying to you for several months about whether or not I needed money because I was totally sure that I could get everything figured out and then I didn’t but I didn’t want you to worry or try to pay for everything like a sugar daddy just because you CAN pay for it, and anyway, is one of your spare rooms open and…… oh. Hi, Stephen. ……He’s pretty shirtless for coming over for breakfast, isn’t he. Why are you wearing a shirt and he’s not.”

“Because he wasn’t cooking bacon and I was?”

“…………*slowly puts two and two together and realizes what he’s crashing* Ohhhh. Um. ……I can go bug Pete or Margot—”

“They don’t have room for you at their places—”

“So, can I stay?”

“Yes, obviously, but can we also talk about this? Like, maybe not right now, but in general, there are a lot of things that I’d like to talk about here???”

“………Why? Do you want to, like, charge rent or something?”

“No, god, why would I want to do that to you, but????”

So, yeah.

In fairness, Todd has a lot of good points. But he is also really bad at a lot of the things that you NEED if you don’t want a polyamorous relationship to completely implode — like communication, honesty, self-awareness, etc. — and he’s only going to start working on any of this when he finally realizes that…… oh. He’s jealous of Stephen and has been jealous of all of Seb’s previous boyfriends too, but in most of those cases, he also had some other reason to dislike them

For example: Harry was cheating on Seb with a Julliard violinist (who knew that Harry was also sleeping with Seb, but Seb had no idea that Harry’s violinist friend was his “real boyfriend”);

Francis was an ecoterrorist and admitted as much on their first date (though, as Seb has pointed out to several people, what kind of ecoterrorist actually admits to being one on a first date, so he feels he was justified in not believing Francis here), then shot Seb in the back, after kidnapping him and holding him for ransom in a basement in Ossining, all because Francis didn’t appreciate being dumped, especially not by a junky;

Josh didn’t really see the difference between rough sex and domestic violence, and was inadvertently responsible for Seb being the first family member to show up for the birth of his niece…… because he took Seb to the ER after giving him a concussion that made him seem to lose consciousness during sex (not that Josh stopped fucking him during), and then left him there “because he had something big to handle for work” (i.e., because he didn’t want to be there in case anyone called the cops), and while Seb was going to leave, he happened to see Max and Linda checking in and decided to just stay;

Rémy liked erotic asphyxiation but did not like asking for consent, and also had a thing for giving his partners rohypnol (again, without their consent), and he got away with it with Seb because, by the time they dated, Seb was no stranger to having intoxication-induced blackouts, and it was easy to tell him that he must’ve had too much to drink (and because of the way his half-latent healing factor and toxin filtering handled rohypnol, it was basically impossible for him to tell the difference between that and any of his more usual mixes of intoxicants);

Byron was a supervillain henchman-for-hire and also had a stunning lack of boundaries;

and Julian was mostly just annoying when he and Seb dated, and the worst part, at the time, was that they both tried to be helpful and supportive for each other but actually wound up exacerbating a lot of their respective issues, and now, he’s one of the less-bad exes but only because, “sends drunk texts to a recovering addict and unsolicited dick pics” is clearly on a very different level from, “gave Seb a concussion and ditched him at the ER” and, “literally shot him in the back”

(and then, when his involvement with the baddies comes out, he sort of skyrockets up the list of bad idea exes, but in fairness to Seb here, Julian didn’t get recruited by said baddies until after the second time that they broke up).

So, yeah, Todd has not been short on legitimate reasons to hate a lot of Seb’s boyfriends, and said legitimate reasons have allowed him to avoid dealing with his own jealousy for a while.

The fact that he and Seb have full-on dated before also helped for a while, as did the standing friends with benefits/“it’s complicated” that they’re in at the start of the story…… but see, Todd has always kind of been hoping that this would turn back into romance at some point

See, for all he isn’t self-aware about most things, he’s done enough work on himself to know that he is still in love with Seb (who does reciprocate but has an easier time reading Latin, or Proust in the original French, than he does of knowing what his feelings are doing and being able to verbalize it effectively)

So, Todd’s been leaving their relationship open-ended so he won’t have to feel like he’s tying Seb down to something Seb might not want. The idea that Seb might actually want it does occur to Todd, but he also dismisses the idea as completely ridiculous and silly, all out of some ridiculous idea that of course Seb wouldn’t want to be with him again for real, not until he perfectly self-actualizes in some completely unattainable way (which he doesn’t realize is completely unattainable because, bless his heart, Todd doesn’t get that he will never be satisfied with his ridiculous and ill-defined goalposts on the path to becoming his idea of what Seb’s perfect version of him is)

This is made all the worse by the fact that all Seb wants Todd to be, and all that he has ever wanted Todd to be, is himself.

He has said so practically since their first ever conversation, and the romantic subtext was there for him from the start of it all because when he went up to the cute bespectacled chubby guy in the Pink Flamingos t-shirt after the freshman orientation week meeting of the campus LGBTQ student union, Seb totally meant to ask Todd out.

Unfortunately, he got nervous, excited, an odd and potent mix of tongue-tied and rambling, and overwhelmed by how starved he was to make more friends (seeing as his only friend, at that time, was Pete, who was about an hour or so north, once you factor in getting to Grand Central, taking the Metro North to the right stop, and then either meeting him at the station or getting to his campus)

So, the romantic intentions got rather garbled and turned into a platonic-sounding coffee invitation, and as much as Seb had wanted to ask Todd out, he was okay with this at the time because he was en eighteen-year-old extrovert who’d spent his last two years of high school with only one real friend, who wasn’t even at his school because Pete was already in college, and in a school environment that was so emotionally shitty that his parents saw facilitating his trips down to see Pete and all their weird misadventures in the City not as a special treat but as what they needed to do for the sake of their son’s wellbeing

Either way, Todd misses the, “be yourself, that’s it, that’s all he has ever wanted, you colossal tool” point by a long-shot

So, by the time the story starts, Todd is working (he thinks) on his amazing and totally foolproof plan to become exactly what Seb deserves even if (he maintains) Seb doesn’t realize that he deserves it, Seb feels like there’s no way that Todd is still into him and feels like Todd is probably only hooking up with him until someone better comes along and is a hopeless romantic who’s pessimistic about love but also about most things in general, and their lack of talking about things is a Problem

It’s a Problem that Pete calls Seb out on, though in fairness, he brings that up less as a dig at the relationship and more because it’s part of Seb’s larger problems

But then, as part of his, “I am totally going to get my shit together, yeah!” “““plan””” (read: half-baked notion that he is at least really committed to), Seb decides to ask Stephen out (because Pete was just going down a list of things Seb could work on and one of them was, “Figure out your shit with Todd and either work things out with him or move the fuck on instead of mooning over him like you’re fucking twelve,” and Seb did the impulsive thing to go, “Oooh, look, not mooning over Todd now, am I”)

Seb doesn’t expect it to go anywhere because he doesn’t think Stephen could actually be interested in him literally ever, so he’s trying not to get his hopes up or end up feeling anything — except he does both of those things AND, due to how the events play out leading up to things, Seb’s just realized that he does still have feelings for Todd, and now, he’s not sure what to do and has to figure out his shit

The final nail in the coffin is that Todd, after several weeks of blowing off Seb’s attempts to talk about things (because you don’t need to talk about things if you just pretend they’re fine and stay the course, right?), gives him what is essentially an, “It’s not you, it’s me” line, and because, “It’s not you, it’s me” is so often used to break up with someone gently (including by Seb in different previous relationships), Seb takes it as them being done romantically and decides that they should stop having sex, too, so he can get serious with Stephen.

So, Todd has to live with the fact that he’s the one who opened the door to let Seb get serious with Stephen, and deal with his jealousy, which he can’t get out of at least recognizing because he can’t find a single thing about Stephen that indicates that he isn’t as kind and good as he seems. It’ll be good for him. He gets to grow as a person thanks to fucking this up for himself and unwittingly getting one of his best friends to commit to an actual decent relationship.

Then there’s the issue of Todd and Stephen’s leg of the relationship, but once Todd sorts his shit out about being a jealous little turd, they will actually get along just fine

They will probably end up having a bonding moment where they get laughing about weird or mildly irksome but not troublesome things that Sebastian does, because I love scenes like that

But, still. As a poly ship, I don’t actually see them working out in the prime timeline.

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