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curioskitty · 3 years

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THE・Rarest Bakugou

Given Bakugou-kun's description as a "juvenile delinquent" (Horikoshi sensei uses the term 不良少年, or furyou shounen, meaning juvenile delinquent boy), it's expected that he wouldn't conform to standard. So obviously, it's not possible to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie properly................

What is up with this perfectly tied nonsense right here?!

Bakugou-kun, I thought I knew you!!! THE LIES! THE BETRAYAL!!!

But, it's probably just a fluke. You didn't mean it, right Horikoshi-sensei?

WTF?! WHY?!!! Horikoshi-sensei?!

Yep. Contrary to expectations, Bakugou-kun wearing a tie correctly only ranks at Ultra Rare status: difficult to find, but not impossible.

So, what's rarer than a tie-wearing Bakugou-kun? Go Beyond, Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In fact, it's even harder to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie improperly. Given proto-Bakugou's loose tie design, I would have expected that to be the likelier delinquent-esque tie option. But I've only seen Horikoshi-sensei draw him like this once:

(Horikoshi-sensei's one year celebration illustration. This is still fairly early in the publication.)

On top of that, Bakugou-kun consistently wears his uniform tie-less and with at least one button undone on his shirt collar. His pants are always slung low on his hips and legs bunching up at his feet (except when he had to wear jeans for Best Jeanist). You can even see panels where Horikoshi-sensei drew in the rips at the hems near the heel where they drag on the ground.

So why the inconsistency, Horikoshi-sensei? I see you over there, stop pretending you didn't notice. I know you're paying attention.

Horikoshi-sensei gave proto-Bakugou a loosened tie, so what is the reasoning for taking Bakugou-kun's tie away?

Some No-Tie Theories

Fan Theory #1: HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW

//Like Midoriya-kun, Bakugou-kun came from a middle school with gakuran uniforms. They never learned how to tie them. Midoriya-kun messes up his tie, while Bakugou-kun doesn't even bother to try.//

I actually think this is the least likely reason. Bakugou-kun was designed to be a naturally talented genius. I think this applies to anything he wants to do. If he does something, it's always perfectly done.

Bakugou-kun can (and does if you look above) tie it perfectly when necessary.

CONCLUSION: If Bakugou-kun doesn't do something, it's completely out of personal preference or because he doesn't see a reason to.

Fan Theory #2: REBELLIOUS NATURE

//Bakugou-kun is a delinquent and maintains that image because he thinks it looks cool. Or maybe he is rebelling against fashion designer parents. Either way, because of his family background he knows how to tie a tie, but wants to be a rebel.//

I'd give partial points for this one. I'm pretty sure he wears his pants loose at least partially because he thinks it looks cool. However, Bakugou-kun's parents were noted to be designers and not specifically fashion designers.

Despite appearances, this is the kid that sleeps at 8:30pm, doesn't break school rules, and yells at his friends for smoking.

He zips up the collar on his gym track suit all the way. Both the summer and winter versions get the same treatment. He doesn't feel the need to "make a statement" by wearing his track uniform incorrectly. Outside of class, he can and does sometimes wear his track jacket unzipped, but during class he always wears it properly.

So then why does Bakugou-kun refuse to wear the band T-shirt and Christmas party Santa outfit? Because he isn't cooperative. In Ultra Analysis, his Cooperativeness Stat was the lowest rank: E.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun may be non-conformist and uncooperative, but he isn't a rebel.

Fan Theory #3: TRAUMA/PTSD

//This is one of the more popular theories. Between Dabi grabbing his neck, the Sludge Villain and being restrained at the School Festival, our boy has been through the wringer. As a result, he just doesn't like stuff around his neck because it gives him anxiety.//

The Western Fandom is definitely concerned about the mental health of the kids. But I don't actually think this is the reason. Not that I don't think they all need some therapy and self care, especially right now, but there just isn't evidence for this specific trauma in Bakugou-kun.

He wears scarves and even turtle necks without a problem.

On top of that, Bakugou-kun ALSO unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and gakuran in middle school; even from before the Sludge Villain incident. There isn't any evidence Bakugou-kun changed his dressing habits due to trauma. He wore a scarf to the entrance exam for UA, too.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun has ALWAYS worn his shirts with the top button unbuttoned.

These 3 theories are inadequate, too. Even if they did explain the reasons Bakugou-kun doesn't wear a uniform tie, they don't factor in the reasoning for why he DOES wear his other ties properly sometimes.

HC#1: Bakugou-kun's preference

Bakugou-kun doesn't seem to care about his image and how "extras" see him. Even during the press interviews after his hero debut, he wore the same style of open collar look. He's not shy about being nude or taking his shirt off.

But what he hates is being uncomfortable.

He is "explosively brawny". Just look at how thick Bakugou-kun's neck is when compared to Midoriya-kun's. It isn't just that Midoriya-kun is supposed to be scrawny, but also that Bakugou-kun has a thicker than average neck.

Bakugou-kun doesn't like to button up his shirts all the way because it's uncomfortable. It's reasonable that he zips his track suit and everything else up because those are looser at the neck or made of stretchier materials.

As for why he doesn't wear the uniform tie at all... Don't forget Bakugou-kun is a perfectionist and a bit of a neat freak.

He always tucks his shirt in. For the band performance he wore a collared black dress shirt. From what we saw of his room, it's minimalist and clean. I don't see him wanting to look like a slob.

A sloppy loose tie would probably irritate him more than just not wearing it (which is even funnier when you think about Midoriya-kun's chonk tie. It probably makes him want to strangle Midoriya-kun, or maybe just tie it himself...)

Bakugou-kun has difficulties compromising when it comes to his high standards. So if he has to wear it, it's going to be either 0% or 100%.

HC#2: Explosiveness

Why draw Bakugou-kun with either 0% tie or 100% tie? If Horikoshi-sensei is going for a delinquent image, wouldn't the 50% tie option make more sense?

Taking a look again at Bakugou-kun's profile page, Horikoshi-sensei describes him to be explosive in every way. That includes his whole body being "explosively brawny", but also adds a note that he looks slender in clothes.

Horikoshi-sensei put an effort to make every element of Bakugou-kun's character in some state of either fully compressed or explosive.

His slimming clothes, general appearance and even his speech patterns are highly compressed (blunt/terse) and loud. The extremes of his attitude are compressed too; if Bakugou-kun is not loudly raging, then he's quietly observing.

This contrast is key to his character. You can't explode if you aren't compressed first. It's supposed to be shocking to see how brawny he actually is under his slenderizing clothes. And I always feel shocked whenever I see this kid compressed into a tie.

HC#3: Deku & Kacchan

These two are set apart from the class by design and very much on purpose. Horikoshi-sensei designed them to be at opposite ends of the same spectrum.

If Bakugou-kun has muscular arms, then Midoriya-kun needs muscular legs. If Midoriya-kun buttons up his shirt all the way to the collar, then Bakugou-kun's collar has to be loose. Their designs reflect their connection.

So if Midoriya-kun has a poorly tied tie, the opposite of that is either non-existant or perfectly tied. If it's perfectly tied, he'd just blend in with the class.

The no-tie option just makes more sense.

Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou

Horikoshi-sensei only ever draws Bakugou-kun with a tie in specific scenarios. Costume events that require the neck tie as part of the costume or "fancy" events where everyone is in formal wear. And even in those, Bakugou-kun manages to not wear his tie 90% of the time.

So, I just imagine that when Horikoshi-sensei makes Bakugou-kun wear his tie, he's super grumpy! Just look at his face in every illustration he's wearing a tie in. He's probably hot, uncomfortable, and really not enjoying himself at all.

Ultimately, the "Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou" is a Bakugou-kun who wears the tie and SMILES while doing it.

(Yes, I know that's NOT actually a tie. Shut up Bakugou-kun. You're only smirking in this one because you won the Popularity Poll for the 5th time in a row...)

(Well that's random, you say? Welcome to my blog. Considering the stuff going down on canon, I figured I should give fans, and myself, a break from angst to talk about something silly.

Please note that this applies only to the manga. I've found that the anime isn't quite so strict about how Bakugou-kun looks.

Regarding the headcanons, I just want to clarify that everyone is free to think whatever they like. I enjoy all headcanons and support your right to have them.

I wrote this a while ago and then debated posting it because it's such a huge meta about... Bakugou-kun's tie. I had regrets. But now it's become my new years post. Regrets were for 2020, it's already 2021!

Demons out, fortune in!!! I know it's not setsubun for another month, but 2020 was such a demon.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!)

#why did i write this #does this even qualify as meta #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bnha randomness #bnha spoilers #bkdk #bakudeku #decchan #if you squint #bnha meta #boku no hero manga #Bakugou Katsuki's tie

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maribabyart · 4 years

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Do you have any Demon Martha headcanons? How do you think her reunion with Mrs. Mayberry (The teacher who paid for her assassination) in hell would go?

OK YES I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR THIS HERE WE GO --

MARTHA HEADCANONS <3

So, I’m gonna start with her before she died so I can fully get into why every part of her is the way she is as a demon.

Martha is light skinned Latina woman with family coming from Venezuela. Her mother has a much darker skin tone than her, but her father is far more light-skinned, where she gets her complexion from. While she was raised in America, her parents were immigrants. She was born at home, and she didn’t get a birth certificate until she was four, the year before she started schooling.

She has three older brothers. They were very rambunctious with Martha as a child, pulling pranks on her/with her, taking her hunting, etc.

She was raised out on a farm in the middle of a forested area in Kentucky. They raised cattle, sheep, chickens, and horses. Martha’s main job on the farm was to groom/ride horses and feed chickens.

She learned her sharp-shooter skills in a more intense version of something like 4H unique to her area. She was fantastic with a bow and arrow, and even better with her firearms.

Cannibalism was normalized in Martha’s life from a young age. She knew that it must be kept secret from the outside world, and that it wasn’t accepted. However, it wasn’t something she found to be horrid.

Her family -- and their close friends -- came from a long lineage of Satanic cultists that practiced cannibalism to purge any bit of, “soul” remaining in the corpses of their sacrifices. Due to this, Martha had evolved to be able to be immune to the ill side effects of cannibalism, along with the ability to not feel repulsed by the idea of eating human meat.

Her favorite part of the body growing up was the brain, and it still is to this day. She loves the frontal lobe slathered in spices and hot sauce.

She began her cultish killings at age fourteen, when she officially joined the cult of her family’s descent -- Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida (Fellowship of the Forbidden Fruit, a refrence to their following of Lucifer)

Martha didn’t love Raphael Peterson, or, “Ralphie”. She was married of to him at age sixteen, when she became a, “Woman” in the cult’s eyes. They were both meant to appear as an ideal couple so that people wouldn’t suspect them, as their parents before them have.

Ralph and Martha always saw each other as friends with benefits.

They moved to Dayton, Tennessee to start their family when they turned eighteen.

In Nashville, Martha started singing to music her husband played in Taverns. Think Dolly Parton style music. She sounded a lot like that.

Their first child was born when Martha was eighteen: Their daughter, Jolene Peterson. Two years later, they had their son, Beau Peterson.

Martha was always really involved with her kids’ school activities, and she was always volunteering to work events, and her kids were in every activity they could be.

She used her physical attractiveness to seduce and kill men.

While sex favorable, Martha is on the aspec -- greysexual (sexual pleasure is irrelevant to her, and she only engages in it to appease her partner generally. She only finds sexual attraction in people while in the act.) Because of this fact, Martha only has affairs for the sake of gaining trust to bring the men home so they can be killed and eaten.

When Martha was shot, the community villainized Mrs. Mayberry because the town darling, Martha Jane Nunez Robles-Peterson, would NEVER cheat, right? The situation was misread: Martha was just talking to Jarold Mayberry that night about t-ball-related things, right? He WAS the the little league captain for her 6-year-old-son’s league, wasn’t he?

Martha was gifted millions by the community, and people were insanely supportive of her. They wanted the sweet Martha they, “knew” to get better soon. They loved her so -- such a darling woman!

Her music became more well known, and soon, Martha was all over TV. Her big musical break came from when she auditioned for American Idol and made it. Her sob-story propelled her, and she eventually won.

Martha was a hero to everyone around her -- surviving a traumatic event that was uncalled for, while also being so damn chipper and kind.

Hell, did you guys see the background in one of those scenes?! Martha was canonly proclaimed a SAINT! People loved her that much.

She used the public trust to lure in more victims and never be suspected.

Martha was 28 when she died. Ralphie was 28 as well. Jolene was 10, and Beau was 8.

Ralphie managed to survive the explosion, albeit he was completely paralyzed, and the two children went to heaven. Ralphie repented during his last month alive, and confessed to his crimes. He was sent to heaven as well.

Martha and the children were declared to have died in a bear attack, as Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida covered up their true demise with ease.

People were heart broken -- Martha’s music was used in sad collages on Youtube, Tik Toks had Martha’s face in them for memorials.

No one ever realized her crimes.

Now! As a demon....

In hell, Martha picked up the alias Hero -- it’s what she was in life, right? I’ll be calling her Hero from now on.

Hero is both different and similar to how she was when she was alive. She’s still the got her kind-hearted, southern mama vibe going for her: She tends to be able to fit into any demonic crowd well, either by attractiveness or by sheer, overwhelming allure -- she’s a very magnetic personality.

As far as powers go, Hero’s are mostly related to firearms. She’s acquired these powers through deal making and soul dealing, as most demons do. Her charming aura very quickly lure people into thinking she’s naive or really just being honest with them.

Her nails can peel back to allow her to shoot from, “finger guns”. Each finger is a different gun, besides her middle and index fingers. They are both shotguns. Together, they make a double barrel shotgun.

When in full demonic form, Hero’s bandages become sentient. They peel away from her wound, revealing a minigun like weapon in the hole in her head. This can rapid fire while the bandages can grab onto things or hoist Hero up. She can make this last for five minutes -- ten at the longest -- before she gives out to sheer exhaustion and needs to eat demon meat to replenish herself.

Within her first week in hell, she was known to be powerful. Not quite an overlord, but powerful enough to hang around overlords.

She hit overlord status three months later, during the terf war seen in Hazbin Hotel’s pilot: She took several areas of land, and was seen to have several lesser demons flocking to be on her good side.

Hero used her land to build up a bar and grill that serves strictly demon meat and blood, where demons can play music and dance. It’s like a fucked up country dinner. It’s an insanely popular addition to Cannibal Colony, where she lives.

The place is called La Cocina de la Calle Kuru (The Kuru Street Kitchen)

Hero REALLY wants to get her hands on exterminator tools, but she’s not really a fan of black market deals -- it’s too “trashy” for her.

Hero knows Alastor pretty well, as he’s came in for meat and to watch the music. They’ve had pretty decent conversations while she was on break, seeing as they were both influential southern, cannibalistic serial killers. It’s a running gag between them where they jokingly talk about who was more iconic -- “I bet I took out more belles in a lifetime than you could in your entire afterlife!” “Well hon, at least I could eat the brains without gettin’ Kuru!”

She talks to Rosie a lot about business, and has met Niffty and Mimzy before. (Al hooked a bitch up with some friends lmao)

She REALLY likes Mimzy. She reminds her of Ralphie, and they became super fast friends.

Vox and Hero have a confusing sort of friendship, as neither really wants to be seen with the other -- In his case, because she’s much lower on the overlord spectrum than him, and in her case, because she’s no stranger to Alastor and Vox’s hatred for one another. However, she often finds herself consoling Vox on sleepless nights after closing up the bar, trying to convince him that Valentino is NOT worth his time. Beyond that and him occasionally paying her back in tech at random hours of the morning, they don’t talk often.

Hero LOVES dancing! Like, a lot.

She’s seen Charlie’s ad for the Happy Hotel. Her and Mimzy watched it, and they both thought it was the stupidest damn thing they’d ever seen. However, Hero said she was happy Charlie got up there, because she was just, “Cute as a button, that lil’ sweatpea was!”

Hero’s best friends are Mimzy and an unnamed demon who specializes in black market, extermination tool selling (the one seen in in Addict -- Cherri Bomb’s former lover).

These two people, and these two people alone, can call her “Martha”

Hero cooks whenever she’s stressed. She also adores sewing and binging soap operas and reality shows on Voxflix.

Hero’s Instagram would be, “HeroicMelodies” in reference to her music career and name.

Hero gets hit on A LOT, and she despises it. She doesn’t need to seduce people anymore to get away with murder, and she doesn’t want to. She dresses the way she does because she LIKES that clothing. People can fuck off.

The reason Hero is white and pink is to show how innocent she looks. Her pitch-black eyes show her dark soul.

Hero sings in Spanish to herself when cleaning up.

Sometimes, Hero and Rosie spend holidays going around with ground demon meat to throw to the hell crows and other critters. They find it peaceful.

Hero, shockingly, holds no hatred for I.M.P., and commonly jokes about how the I.M.P.’s, “Did her a favor” by sending her somewhere she can actually be her. She has no idea who called for the hit, though.

Hero finds Blitzo’s Instagram posts being poorly spelled to be, “Damn near precious”.

She thinks he’s a teenager, and probably would think it less adorable if she knew he was a grown man with a grown kid.

Hero doesn’t care about Mrs. Mayberry at all. Like, at all. She honestly assumes the woman is in heaven. She knew Mayberry wasn’t bad -- she probably wouldn’t care if she was in hell, though. Oh well. Sucks to suck, bitch.

Husk frequents La Cocina de la Calle Kuru to drink and engage in the gambling scene. Hero finds him trashy, but can’t say she hates him. She finds him funny as hell, and enjoys the business. Just not someone she’d personally hang out with.

#Helluva Boss #Hazbin Hotel #Martha #Demon! Martha #Hero #Alastor #Vox #Rosie #Husk #Niffty #Mimzy #Headcanons #Head canons #AU #Sort off?#Hell #Mrs. Mayberry #Ralphie #Murder Family

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mariposalass · 3 years

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Sora’s Time to Shine

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Summary: Mari is already not putting too much expectations going into watching the Final Smash Presentation when someone close to her besides Kirby and Edelgard’s beloved Professor pops out of nowhere in said Presentation. All hell breaks loose (but in a good way).

Setting: Mari and co.’s house in Daly City, California; October 5, 2021

Notes: I was pretty behind in seeing the reveal since I was pretty tired when it came out and I had to check a friend’s post on Plurk to make sure that it was not all for the jokes before watching it on Gamespot and writing this story down. And yes, the Byleth in my S/I verse is the female version in case anyone is curious. And yes, it took me until around 8 AM to write this up. Featuring Luther Vandross. Here is an ask I made on Sora’ behest during a F/O takeover long before he got confirmed recently. #SakuraiHasReachedtheImpossibleDream #Sora4Smash

Tags: Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, Super Smash Bros., Swift Keyblader, Smash Reveal, Sakurai has reached the impossible dream!, Sora for Smash, #Sora4Smash

“Hurry Mari, you’re about to miss it!” Kairi is dragging me out onto the sofa to see the final Smash Ultimate Presentation on the living room pretty early before plopping ourselves onto the sofa.

“Look, Kairi, guys. I hate to be a party pooper, but I have no clue about who could it be,” I try to be realistic in my views.

“Well, at this point, my beloved, it could be anybody from the video game world,” my dear Philip chimes in while trying to reassure me, “Besides, as soon as it is done, we shall try to reply back to this non Smash invitation that El had found in the mail today.”

“Huh, is that correct, El dear?” I asked my regal adopted daughter for confirmation.

“Why yes of course, Mother,” she replies as she passes me the invitation, “I believe that a friend of yours has sent us one, but I didn’t want to open it immediately since this is addressed to you.”

“Okay then, I will get to read it and reply back once the Presentation is over and see who gets to fight with Kirby and Professor Byleth,” I smiled back at her.

“I couldn’t believe that there was a leak that just came out before this Presentation video and it is about music. Who was that dense enough to do it at a time like this?” Riku mumbles as he gets the video streaming on the Nintendo Direct page in his laptop.

“You know, Riku, sometimes people can act very idiotic at times, so there isn’t much we can do besides ignoring and avoiding that as much as possible,” Harry sighs as he is bottle feeding and gently rocking Serena as she had cried a while ago to be bottle fed.

“Guys, have you guys seen Sora lately?” Issa asks us while carrying Chris in her arms, “I haven’t seen him in the last few days. He didn’t even reply back to either my or Kairi’s texts and calls. Do you think he’s off to visit Jack and Sally in Halloween Town? It’s nearing Halloween soon.”

“That’s really a good question, Issa,” Ahk agrees, “I had given up trying to find him by calling over on the phone since last Thursday. All I have gotten from it were many ‘The subscriber could not be reached’ messages.”

Even Riku and Kairi are in a loss for words as they turn to each other and wonder what is up with our friend lately. Did he just went poof without us knowing? Kirby always informs us through his many Poyos that he would have to head off to Smash whenever a new tourney starts or a newcomer arrives and Edelgard’s class often gets shorter class schedules or early dismissals whenever Professor Blyeth gets to fight in Smash: she is the professor handling the Black Eagles class. Sometimes even El, Petra and Dorothea along with a few others (and yes, that includes the Gatekeeper) would come over to Smash to spectate from the sidelines and support their beloved Professor.

There is a long silence when the Nintendo Switch title card plays in the laptop and Karina directs us all to watch the screen to see many clips featuring many Smashers in the current tournament before it transitions to Sakurai-san in the studio explaining about the video as well as showcasing the Mii Fighter costumes.

“Hey look, Isabelle the Dog’s demon slaying friend from Bethesda is now coming to Smash to rip and tear up the competition!” Moana screams when the Doomguy Mii Gunner costume appears.

“Good for him; I know that many fans really did want him to be in Smash, though the costume is a nice addition,” Issa agrees. “That now makes three Bethesda franchises represented in the costumes.”

“Even the Octolings and Judd the Cat got hats based on them too,” I chime in as well.

“Oh hey, guys! Sakarui’s about to reveal the last fighter for the Second Fighter’s Pass, so keep down it and don’t expect too much,” Karina informs as Sakurai transitions to the main event and we all stay silent and stay glued to our seats.

The screen turns black before the usual Smash logo opening shows up, but instead of the usual zoom in, it then turns into a flaming Smash logo with all the Smashers up until Kazuya Mishima (yeah, the guy who tried to drop Kirby off a cliff) looking at it and covered in the shadows. Did MH decided to get them to show up in there and meet the last fighter in the dark? Probably, I bet that he might be keeping it as a surprise and possibly even conserving electricity at the same time. Then cut to Inkling Girl looking in awe with the Smash logo reflecting onto her pupils as a nice ode to the first reveal trailer for the game/tourney, I honestly love this shot.

Wait a minute, the logo turns into stars and the next scene shows everyone frozen in place as toy-like ambiios?!? How is it even possible? Well, it does certainly confirmed once again that the video game version of the tourney is set in a world of make believe after all. I could swear that a lot of people crying their eyes out as they are watching this. It looks like this is the end of one great video game series about mascots fighting among each other. Or is it? Because the camera is aiming at Mario as if he looks like he’s trying to take a nap while standing up.

Riku then proceeds to mumble some words to me incoherently that something big is coming the moment Mario wakes up to see a glowing light to see the last remaining flame glowing on the floor, which I do agree with him. Suspicious right? Oh God, Mario no! Please don’t touch the fire for everyone’s sanity. Wait, hold on a second: that isn’t not just fire that he just grabbed on and then tossed it into the sky like a boomerang: the mystery object looks like a Keyblade and there’s that Mickey keychain! Yep, that’s a Keyblade alright. Could it be...

I could recognize that beam of light that Keyblades often produce whenever they lock and unlock Keyholes to other worlds, so does everyone in the room. Riku and Kairi hugged onto each other as if we’re about to brace for an emergency (Karina and Moana also did the same), Ahk stares at the screen to see if he’s not imagining things all the sudden, Issa has her mouth drop in shock, Chris and Serena didn’t cry throughout this entire presentation, Harry gasps and nearly drops Serena’s bottle, Philip turns to me for answers while Edelgard begins to sweatdrop in concern.

No words are exchanged as the light grows and shines brighter before it proceeds to shoot itself away from the Keyblade to reveal a Keyhole on another part of the room. It then glows bright within as the camera switches back to the rest of frozen Smashers as the light begins to fill the room and revives Link, Cloud, Incineroar and Mewtwo as they all gawk at it as it reveals something from the World of Light with the orchestral rendition of Simple and Clean playing in the background. And that’s when it hits us right at the gut: the familiar spiky brown hair poking out from that Keyhole.

“What!?!” Kairi shouts as the Keyhole ‘spits’ out Sora from the World of Light.

“H-h-he actually got in, for real?” Riku squeaks up.

“Oh my…” I gasp in pure shock as we watch the whole thing played out.

“Sakarui finally did it?” Issa adds in to the discussion.

“Well, it’s about time that they managed to get his darn behind into the tourney,” Karina seconds in.

Soon enough, Sora finally wakes up from his nappy time and takes notes from Peter Pan and Tinkerbell as he flies around, sprinkling fairy dust all over the other Smashers, before landing on the floor and the Keyblade flying back to his hand.

“Damn it, Sora!” I scream as the splash screen pops in.

“Kai, your boy has finally made it big time!” Moana shakes Kairi in congratulation rather rapidly that it nearly gives my lil sis a dizzying spell.

“Moana, please don’t make Kairi that dizzy,” Harry had to tell her that.

“Whoops! Sorry Kairi,” she apologizes to her which she accepts.

So with that, we switch back to Sakurai going in depth with Sora’s moveset after he discussed about the Kingdom Hearts games and world. And he has gotten 4 costume changes, man Sora, that’s a big wardrobe you’re bringing in, oh wait, he even got the Timeless River costume too. That makes it 5 then.

“Oh gods, Sakurai is making us suffer by watching Sakurai using Sora to beat up everyone,” Ahk tells us as the Sora moveset showcase begins.

“No kidding,” Harry muses as we see Sora beating everyone in Battlefield.

“Whoa, they went for Sealing the Keyhole instead of having Trinity Force with Donald and Goofy? What a bummer,” Karina bemoans in dismay.

“Well, you know modern Disney: too overprotective of their IPs,” Philip reminds her.

“Oh new stage, what could it be?” Riku gleefully chimes in before they reveal Hollow Bastion as the stage, “Whoa, Hollow Bastion. I never thought that you will return again.”

Then the stage changes into Dive to the Heart and it had Riku and Kairi in the stained glass in one, Riku being the main focus of the second one, Roxas in the middle of the third, Xion in the fourth, Terra for the fifth, a sleepy Ven in the sixth, and Aqua’s in the seventh.

“Pretty!” I complimented the look of each stained glass.

“Quite impressive I will admit,” El agrees with me too.

Then Sakurai begins a playthrough with Sora facing Cloud and Sephiroth in Hollow Bastion, for a while, we all thought that he’s going to be a goner with Cloud and Sephiroth beating him up in the Stamina match but then the tides begin to turn in his favor after Sephy lost his full stock and with Sora having to take down Cloud next. When he did, the scene begins to go into a slow white fade out with a Game!

“Alright! Sora did it! He defeated both Cloud and mean old Sephy,” Riku cheers on.

“Woo! Go Sora!” me, Kairi, Moana, and Karina screams aloud.

“That was brilliant!” Harry agrees before he turns to Serena, “Did you hear? Uncle Sora managed to defeat two opponents in a Smash Ultimate playthrough.”

“9 songs is better than nothing at all,” Issa observes, “It would be a licensing nightmare to talk to Disney if they can borrow a couple of songs from them and they straight up refuse to assist, oh well. Oooh, a Dearly Beloved Swing arrangement, nice! I better get that save file on the Switch prompto!”

“And check out that Spirit Board: Aunt Kairi has a Spirit of herself,” Edelgard informs us as the Spirit Board for KH is revealed.

“Oh gee, never thought that it could ever happen, but thanks,” she blushes.

“Hey, I got one as well, same with Axel, Xion, Roxas, Aqua, Terra and Ven,” Riku joins in, “Marina is so going to be happy to see her boyfriend as a Spirit. She will probably try to get him real soon.”

“You bet it right, Riku, you bet it right,” I nod and agree with that last statement.

“Oh hey, he’s going to be ready within a few weeks’ time,” Karina speaks up, “Neat! The roster is now complete.”

“Even Steve and Alex have amiibos of themselves being made, that’s even more wonderful,” Ahk takes note of it, “I’m pretty sure that Sora will have one of his own along with Pyra, Mythra, that jerk who tried to threw Kirby off a cliff, and even Sephiroth soon.”

“WHAT?!? Kingdom Hearts are coming to the Switch too!?!” I am surprised to hear the news as Sakurai reveals this new information, that is so mind-blowing.

When it fades to black then to the Ultimate mural, the camera then goes for the space between Ganondorf and Dark Samus to fill in Sora’s spot before panning back. Man, this Presentation is long and is finally ending, thank God; it must be tiring to sit down and watch a nearly hour long video as Sakurai showcases the screenshots he has made and showed off in Twitter. Man, so many memories and montages. And the achievements, wow, that is a lot of them, it will be a game feat that I don’t think it will be broken for a long time.

Man, I will miss the presentations and Sakurai’s corny jokes for sure. I wish him a nice deserving break from all the game development for sure as he gives thanks to everyone from the devs to the players to the people prompting the game and ends it off with a heartfelt goodbye as it fades to back into the full reveal trailer.

“Oh gee, I’m going to miss the Smash Presentations,” Kairi sighs, “I can’t believe that we’re coming to an end.”

“Man, it’s finally over,” Riku gasps in remark as the full trailer plays out, “I don’t think that there will be a game like Ultimate for a very long time. That’s for certain.”

“I agree, Riku. It’s to going to be a tough act to follow up on,” I add in before I look up at the ceiling and murmur some words, “It’s been a long time coming, Sora. You truly deserve that last spot, you really do. Have fun in the tourney and Smash Mansion, buddy.”

Sora is Finally Here!

The End

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For a writing prompt, Indruck post apocalyptic au (preferably everyone is human?) Indrid is infected by some sort of alien parasite, and the only way they can save him is to cut it out of him without anesthesia? Feel free to be as graphic as you want, but if it’s too whumpy for you, no pressure to write it! Thanks as always!

Here you go! It’s mid-level graphic: if it were a movie, you wouldn’t be seeing guts everywhere, but you would see the wounds. Also, content warning for body horror, namely the kind where a fungus takes over your body, and referenced suicide (no suicide actually occurs, don’t worry)

He should have seen it coming.

The tell-tale dampness and smell in the air, like battery acid and rotten milk, the fact that he’d made it the whole trip without seeing any Mycilioptera (that was, according to Joseph, the scientific term for the for the cat-sized, skittering alien creatures looking for someone to sting).

The creature was on him with a droning, high whine, scratching his face, smearing stinging mucus across his eyes and mouth. He made a rookie error, following his instinct to rip off the the substance dulling his senses, rather than feel sweep his arms over his body, locate the creature, and hurl it as far away as he could.

When the stinger hit his stomach, he screamed. The noise was useless; this quadrant of the city was abandoned months ago. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his sides as the pain seeps through them. His eyes cleared enough that he forced his fingers to work, grip the handle of his hatchet, and cleave it with a crunch.

Now, clutching the steering wheel of the Winnebago (in this world you do not need a fast car; you need something with thick sides and room for supplies and friends), he knows there are only two ways this can go.

If he is lucky, the parasite will be slow acting enough and he will stay lucid enough to reach the ranch in time for someone to remove it.

If he is unlucky, he will run out of time, and the parasite will take control of his body, manipulate him zombie-like to an advantageous location, and burst from his chest, mouth, and eyes in milky-white stalks, sending spores into the air, which will either grow in to adults or be inhaled by any other humans in a two mile radius, subjecting them to a prolonged version of Indrid’s fate.

He leans on the gas pedal, hurtling down the empty backroad. They found an abandoned, un-pilfered gas station and filled all the vehicles, with some left over for scouting and supply runs. And, if it came to it, an escape.

From the passenger seat, his backpack meows. A familiar black and brown head pokes out, the ratty collar still reading “Winnie.” Winnie, the reason he ran into that abandoned parking garage during a salvage mission in the first place.

Because she’s Duck’s cat, the one he thought he’d never see again after she fled out the door when the city evacuated. And Indrid loves Duck Newton more than anything in the world.

They’d been friends before everything went to hell, inching towards a confession of deeper feeling and Indrid still remembers the way his heart felt when he spotted Duck at the evac staging shelter. He hadn't even opened his mouth when Duck was hugging him, holding him tight and saying he was so fucking glad he was okay.

When three, then five, then ten infected humans burst in the evac center, Duck had Indrid’s hand they were running before almost anyone else knew what was happening, bandanas over their mouths because Josephs last message before the cell towers were overloaded was to keep their noses and mouths covered.

They made it, against all odds, out into the countryside, Thacker’s Quonset hut and Mama’s farmhouse as safe as they’d hoped. The others trickled in one by one or two by two; sometimes bringing other survivors with them. Other survivors found them later, though the humans they saw became fewer and fewer with each day.

Mama took in everyone who wasn’t infected, while Joseph, Dani, Duck and Thacker operated and sewed up the infected who could be saved (if removed before it takes over the host, the parasite will die when exposed to air). Those who could not were given choices; most chose a swift death, especially when they learned that dying before the parasites emerged would kill the alien inside them.

And every night, Indrid and Duck shared a small bed, clinging to each other and telling jokes or stories until they could sleep. Two months in, Duck kissed him in the dark and Indrid kissed back, and when Duck asked if it was only the end of the world driving Indrid’s affection, Indrid shook his head

“I’ve wanted this for awhile. And I don’t know what’s coming. All I know is I want to be with you when it does.”

At the front of the Winnebago Indrid wipes his eyes; what a foolish thing to say. He doesn’t want Duck here for this, that’s for damn sure, and yet he drives towards him anyway,

He’s feverish, sweat running down his face and arms shaking, and while his veins are still blue, he can see the parasite rippling under his skin; it’s not wasting any time.

He’s not going to make it. And if he tries, he’ll put all his friends in danger

There’s no choice but to pull to the side of the road a few miles from the farm and step from the trailer, leaving the door ajar so Winnie can escape into the wild. He’s crying all the while, breath coming in shaky gasps; just because he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable and terrified.

Indrid pulls out his pistol. He won’t be an incubator, he won’t spread this, he won’t help the things that took so much of his world from him.

He won’t ever see Duck again.

He sobs, once, then wretches as the fever grows and his vision goes spotty. He has to do this, even though every time he looks at the weapon his whole body shakes with fear.

“‘Drid!”

Duck’s voice, just audible over the thrum of an engine. Then tires screech into view, Aubrey piloting a jeep. Duck jumps to the ground before she’s even stopped.

“‘Drid, don’t you fuckin dare-”

“Nono, stay back!” He scrambles on his hands and heels, slamming into the side of the trailer, “I got stung, I already have a fever, I can feel it moving-”

Duck drops to his knees, lifting Indrid’s glasses.

“Your eyes are still brown. It ain’t too late.”

“But the veins near the wound are going white” Joseph stands behind Duck, “we won’t be able to get him back in time.”

“Th-that’s why I pulled over, I, I can’t get the rest of you infected, please, please just go-”

“You got the field kit?”

Aubrey tosses it to Duck.

“We can still save you, sugar. And I’m sure as hell gonna fuckin try.”

Duck and Joseph haul him to his feet and carry him inside, laying him on his back on the table. Aubrey follows him, sitting down on one bench and taking his hand.

“We got no anesthetic, so this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but you can do it. Okay?”

Indrid nods weakly.

“We’re gonna get you through this. You’re” fear flickers across Duck’s face, “you’re gonna be okay.”

Aubrey braces Indrid’s upper body, Joseph his lower, as Duck cleans around the puncture in his stomach and sterilizes his tools. Aubrey holds up a hand,

“We need something for your mouth, right?”

“Good call” Duck retrieves a wooden spoon from a drawer, setting it between Indrid’s teeth.

“Okay” Duck takes a deep breath, meets Indrids eyes, “okay. I’m gonna start cuttin. Ready?”

Indrid just manages a thumbs up.

It hurts, because a blade cutting into your skin will always hurt. And because it hurts Indrid screams.

“That’s good” Joseph is trying to sound reassuring, but even he looks worried, “scream if you need to, research suggests it helps with the pain.”

“It’s not too deep, thank fuckin christ.”

Indrid stares at the ceiling and yells when Duck widens the incision.

“Almost can see ‘im. Yeah, there, he’s startin to shrivel already from the air.”

Relief mingles with the pain in his tears. Aubrey pets his head, “you’re gonna be okay, see?”

“C’mere you, you fuckin monster, you fuckin think you can take him from me” Duck hisses, then says gruffly, “Joe, need you to hold it open, go wash your hands.”

Once Joe is in position, there’s a horrible, wet sound as Duck places his hand inside.

Searing, blinding pain as he pulls the parasite free, Indrid’s blood running down Duck’s arms. He bites the wooden handle and it cracks. The creature wrinkles and dies in Duck’s hands and he hurls it outside.

“Shit, shit you’re bleeding a lot. Okay, fuck, okay, that was the hard part, this is just stitches. Just stitches.”

Indrid whimpers, clinging to Aubrey’s hand and scraping his nails against the formica table. Duck hits too deep on a stitch and Indrid winces and cries as his boyfriend curses.

“Here, Duck, trade with me.” Joe holds out his hand and Duck passes him the needle. The shorter man settles by Indrid, taking his other hand. He’s still bloodstained, and Indrid can feel him shaking, but he brings Indrid’s knuckles to his mouth and kisses his knuckles again and again.

“I’m here, darlin, I’m here, I got you, it’s almost over.”

Indrid focuses on his voice, pretends they’re in bed together, counts the kisses on his hand and wrist while the pain fades to the background. Dimly, around kiss number thirty-five, he hears Joseph sigh in relief.

“Done.”

--------------------------------------------------

Indrid curls up under the covers, clothes sticking to him with sweat and his stomach throbbing with pain.

“Easy, sugar, easy” Duck sits up from a makeshift bed on the floor, “here, lemme get you some painkillers.” He comes back with a glass of water and two white pills. Indrid swallows them, lets Duck help him from his shirt and wipe the sweat away with a cloth.

“How did you know to come look for me?”

“Just had a feelin. I kept lookin out at the road, saw the ‘Bago weavin, goin a million miles an hour, and just knew somethin was wrong.”

“Thank you. For coming for me.”

“I always will. Thanks for not deckin me or kickin me while I was workin on you.”

“Duck you saved my life, kicking would be rather rude.”

It’s a weak goof, but Duck smiles and kisses him.

“Oh, uh, here, someone else wants to say thanks.”

“Mraoow?” Winnie stares at him from Duck’s arms.

“We scared her burstin into the trailer. Poked her head out right after you passed out. So you, uh, missed me bawlin like a baby seein her again.”

“Awwww” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, ruffling Winnie’s fluff.

“I mean, that and it hit me how close I came to losin you. Poor Aubrey was tryin to comfort me in the Jeep while Joe drove you back here in the ’Bago.”

Indrid strokes his cheek. He understands; the thought of never seeing Duck again was the worst thing to happen to him all day, sting included.

“Come to bed?”

“You sure? Might not be too comfortable.”

“I want to be held by you. I want to remember we’re both still here.”

Duck joins him under the blanket, Winnie curling up on their feet.

“Yeah, yeah we are. And I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too. And I promise to cut a parasite out of you if the need arises.”

“God I fuckin hope not.”

“Me too. There were...fewer of them this time. I think they may be dwindling.”

“Fingers crossed. But even if we got a long ways to go towards rebuildin a world, I still got you, and you still got me. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.”

Indrid kisses him, inhaling the smell of clean skin and scratching his cheek against Duck’s stubble.

“You’re right, my love. It is.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #taz amnesty #whump #reader requests #post apocalyptic au #body horror

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mattjabbar · 4 years

Text

Writing or doing nothing.

After finishing my second book called "Tokyo at Night" which consisted of mostly big and highly detailed watercolor paintings, I decided that I needed a break from this kind of work. I felt a similar sort of weariness as I did while painting animation backgrounds for months without a break. I was itching to get back to the thing that made me consider going to Japan in the first place - storytelling through comics, illustrations, or animation. Therefore, I immediately spent three months doing another book of detailed illustrations (this time, ink drawings of Hokkaido).

It was harder for me than I expected to focus on a storytelling project because it would require me to do work that did not bear any fruit right away. I was used to making art that was almost instantly finished and shareable. Here, I would have to write, sketch, and think (!) for days, months maybe with no instant gratification. I had to think about some tricks to keep me on track.

As making a story would require writing (even if it's just a script or bunch of memos for myself), I had a look at some tips from my favorite literary creators. That's when I stumbled upon a rule that Neil Gaiman applies when he writes: "write or do nothing." According to him, it's alright to do nothing instead of working because one soon gets bored and goes back to typing. It may be a good solution for someone who writes longhand sitting alone in a forest gazebo, but I was trying to type using my laptop or my iPad, which can offer distractions aplenty! As much as I would love to write with a fountain pen in a neat notebook, I'm not a linear thinker (I mix, swap and move things a lot) so I would have to type the text to edit it anyway.

What's more, as English is not my native tongue (but I would like to write in English for its accessibility) I always have to look up words and their uses, which leads to more internet and social media distractions.

Thus, I started looking for ways to write without distractions, but in a way that would be fun too.

Software.

As I already have a Mac laptop and an iPad, I invested in an app that would allow me for comfortable editing and managing my all-over-the-place, non-linear writing projects. I ended up with Scrivener, which does all I need (and more), can also be used by Kana (our accounts are family-linked), and does not require a subscription.

I like how this app allows me to split, reorder and join files effortlessly, that I can add notes and memos in the text, and that it works perfectly with the novel-like style of writing dialogues that I like to use. No problems here.

Casio

For writing without distractions, I started by looking at these stand-alone devices that allow for writing without using a computer or a tablet. In theory, this should allow for a more focused, offline work environment, but they also look so cool! First, though, I decided to try if I can use something unconventional for this purpose - ideally something that no one needs anymore - a type of digital upcycling.

I heard Neil Gaiman (again) talking in one of his interviews that he typed parts of one of his books on an ancient portable Atari palmtop (something like this probably), so I started wondering if I cannot do something similar. Looking through listings on the popular Japanese second-hand website, I found this beauty for just 24$. A Casio Cassiopeia A-51 made in 1997 (I was eleven at that time)!

This small computer has a lot of upsides - it runs a pocket version of Word (enough for just writing simple text), uses standard AA batteries (no worries about old rechargeable batteries going kaput in 15 minutes) and accepts CF memory cards (which allow me to copy data to and from my main laptop).

I cleaned it up, tightened some screws on a loose hinge, replaced the backup battery (it prevents memory loss when changing the primary batteries), added some cool stickers, and the thing looks almost brand new. I'm excited to use if for some shorter posts and articles - the keyboard is as awkward to type on as it looks, but I love the old school feel and the form factor, so I will keep using it for sure!

Pomera

Next on my list of possible solutions was a Pomera - this is a simple, stand-alone writing device made by a Japanese company. I wanted one of these for some time now, but the price was a bit steep. Just recently, though, the DM30 model I wanted was discontinued, and I was suddenly able to buy one for about a quarter of the original price.

This device is geared best towards writing in Japanese, but it can be used in English too. It has an e-ink display, which is great in terms of visibility and allows for long battery life too (about 24 hours of use on two AA batteries). As with the Casio, I can store my texts on a memory card, but this device also has 8GB of built-in storage. For the footprint it has - the keyboard is great. After folding it out, it's stable, and I can write almost as comfortably as on my MacBook. No distractions and no superficial functionality. I can display an outline of the document I'm working on, insert timestamps, search, replace text, and that's it.

After writing a few short texts with the Pomera, I can say that I like it. Especially the hardware part - the keyboard and the screen are great! The software, on the other hand, is somewhat limited in functionality and has its quirks. No font options, no markdown support, no text format encoding choice - just some small things that would make the device more pleasurable in everyday use, not deal-breakers, though.

One thing is certain - if it comes to the "write or do nothing" rule, Pomera wins. It's really boring! You cannot do anything on it except write, so of course, you end up writing.

Reference.

Lastly, to enhance my English language skills, I have to use a dictionary. And doing it on my smartphone defeats the whole thing, so I decided to look for an electronic dictionary. I had a used Casio dictionary when I came to Japan, but this time I searched for one with Oxford English-English dictionary and thesaurus. It's fast and offers more comprehensive and noise-free content than looking up things online.

Future

My current solution is not perfect, but I'm enjoying this process, and the result is that I'm writing. What's more, because I started to think about writing (with thinking and researching) as a part of my work, it recently became easier for me to spend a day or two without having drawn anything but still feeling like I had accomplished something. As for the tools - I would LOVE to try and use a Psion 5mx, but sadly these were not popular in Japan, and it's hard to justify buying one from abroad.

#blog #writing #writing tools #distraction-free #casio #pomera

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

In Corners

Calum never though he’d be a dad like this. But when it comes to his daughter, he’s always in her corner. Always and forever.

What happens when you put together H’s love for angst+ Single!Dad Calum+ Coming Out?

This. This is the product.

CW: Mentions of Death and health issues. Coming out. Some slight mentions of homophobia. Anxiety.

Enjoy my masterlist

Feel free to support me on Kofi.

****No one has my permission to post this fic, including translations. Copyright be-ready-when-i-say-go, 2020.******

_________________________________

Calum shouldn’t have sat down. That is his mistake. He figures he wouldn’t fall asleep. Not this fast, of course. That will always be false hope. That will always be him giving himself too much credit. If he sat down too long without anything to do, especially in the comfy single seater, it would be game over for him. He has an hour before he has to pick up Ariyana from Elizabeth’s house. He dropped her off earlier in the afternoon and said he’d be back to get her before dinner time.

And after running errands, first to get groceries, then take the dogs to the vet, and be home for the cable company, all Calum really wants is a nap. Just a quick one. That’s all it’ll be. Half an hour and then he can head out to get her. The both of them can decide what to get for dinner, if they’re going to cook or if they’ll give in and order a veggie pizza. There’s nothing like just sitting with a couple boxes of pizza and piling plates with maybe a slice too many and dancing from the counter to the kitchen table to keep any slice from sliding off.

He feels his head fall forward on his neck and he snaps up. It takes him a moment, realizing he’s slumped down in the living room. Glancing up at the clock, he’s half an hour late. “Shit,” he exclaims, bolting up from the seat, grabbing his keys and wallet. The door is a slamming thud behind him and his keys jingle as he works to get the right one in his fingers.

Inside the car, he pulls up Ari’s number and sets the phone into the hook on the air vent so he can drive and have both hands free. It rings and rings. Just as the back tires hit asphalt, she picks up. “Fell asleep again didn’t you, Dad?”

“I keep telling you that seat has some sort of magic in it. I’m on my way.”

She laughs. In the background, Calum can hear Elizabeth’s mother, her voice soft and sweet. “He’s on his way. Thanks, Mrs. Banks,” Ariyana says. “Want me to call in the veggie pizza?”

“Please. I’m sorry, baby girl. Should’ve set an alarm on my phone.”

“It’s alright, Dad. I lost track of time too. I’ll call it in.”

“Love you. Thanks.”

“Of course. Love you too.”

It still blows Calum’s mind that for the last fourteen years it’s been just Ariyana and him, and somehow he’s managed to do the whole Dad thing well. Ariyana isn’t his kid, an apparent fact when she stands next to him at the grocery stores when they go shopping together or when they go out to the movies, on the rare occasions that Ariyana doesn’t think Calum’s lame. Her much darker than his own, almost like her skin swallowed up the night sky.

But he wouldn’t trade it in for the world. Even though it meant he lost one of his best friends along the way, complications post-birth seemed to just linger and linger on until they unfortunately claimed Ariyana’s mother, Jazmyne. But both her and Calum knew things were going south fast. They both knew that one day would be her last and when Jazymyne told Calum that no matter what happened to her, she wanted him to take care of her baby, he agreed without hesitation. Ari was close to a year old when her mother died, leaving Calum to the wilds of parenthood alone.

He was there for everything before that. When Ariyana first kicked in the womb. When the doctors let visitors in, he was the first to hold her. He watched her crawl for the first time, attempting to keep up with Duke who was shockingly good with a baby. Maybe it was because they were kindred spirits. All he did was sleep and eat all day and Ariyana as a baby did the same. He has so many pictures of Ari and Duke at his place on the couch, fast asleep, when Jazmyne had doctor’s appointments or whenever she was just too physically tired to do much of anything. Calum always kept his doors opened. He loved, and still loves, Ariyana, so there was never a problem when he got to watch her for a couple hours.

Ariyana had a game she liked to play, especially when she was being put down for a nap, where when she finally could support her upper half, she would hide her face in Calum’s chest and then push up. He would kiss her forehead or cheek and she’d giggle before hiding her face again. It would go for ten minutes, a cycle of their version of peekaboo and kisses until sleep finally overtook her right there on his chest and Calum would be left, hearing the echo of her sweet giggle, the way only a baby can laugh, with one hand on her back, keeping her secure to his body.

Calum feels the tears filling his lower lashes and tries not to think too much about how much Ariyana has grown up since then. How at almost 25, he became a dad to the sweetest kid in the world. And it might not have been under circumstances that he would’ve liked, or ones that he would’ve expected, but he couldn’t deny the blessing Ariyana was in his life. So how much complaining could Calum really do?

Turning the corner onto the block, Calum can see Ariyana and Elizabeth standing on the front porch, huddled together. And almost, as the sounds of his tires rolling over of the street, are fire, they jump apart. Elizabeth falls into the swing and starts rocking as if she were doing it the entire time. Calum knows. He suspected it long before when suddenly Ari talked about Elizabeth all the time. They stayed after school a lot, on homework as the excuse. But Calum never pushed it.

Instead, Calum parks. He opens his door just as the front door opens and Elizabeth’s mom steps out waving. “Thank you again, Jodie,” Calum calls out as he stands behind the opened driver side door.

“Anytime. You know Ariyana’s welcome over literally whenever. Maybe next week, girls, we can do that candle thing I was showing you guys.”

“Mom,” Elizabeth groans.

“What? It looks fun,” Jodie defends. It’s easy to see the relation between the two of them. Elizabeth getting her mother’s dark and wild curls. “You guys said you wanted something to do the next time you hung out? I figured what’s to lose by learning how to make candles?”

“Yeah, but they’re in those elementary school milk cartons.”

Jodie shakes her head. Her gaze lands on Calum and they both share a knowing look before Jodie turns back to Elizabeth, hands up and palms out. “Well, think about it then. Maybe we can find some other craft. Doesn’t have to be candles.”

Both girls are glancing at each other, communicating something and Calum has a good idea what it is. But with a small wave and smile, Ariyana steps down from the porch and over to the passenger side of Calum’s SUV. They both climb inside, doors closing at the same time. “Pizza should be done by the time we get there,” Ari says, sliding the seatbelt across her.

“Cool. Tomorrow, I’ll cook.”

“You mean, tomorrow you’ll attempt to cook but I’ll have a take out place on standby.”

“My cooking’s gotten better over the years.”

“I’ll give you that,” she laughs. Then falls silent, mostly car rides are full of her talking about her day, asking questions, making terrible puns about the street names. But now, she fiddles with her phone, staring out of the window as the world passes by them. And she questions for a brief moment if they are passing the world by. Because it feels like it, as she sits next to her dad.

Ariyana knows about her mother dying, she knows about Calum adopting her because of her mother’s wishes. She’s grateful for it. She can’t imagine what her life would be like if it weren’t for Calum, if she wound up with someone else, if she wound up with her grandmother, who lived back in the South. Calum never kept her family out of her life, but it’s always a question that plagues her. What would her life be like if things had been different? What would she be like if her grandmother took her in? Would her grandmother dress her up every Sunday like she did to her mother? Would she be eating oatmeal in the mornings with bacon on the side and just on the other side of the kitchen table a Bible would sit?

She’s not sure why her mother didn’t leave her to her grandmother. Though she’s asked Calum several times, he never really answers it. Her grandmother never treated her badly. When she spent the summers at her house, running through the neighborhood with the other kids, and they scrambled to be inside doors or on porch steps as the streetlights came on, her grandmother would always be waiting, hands on her hips, with a shake of her head. ‘Cutting it close, like you gunnin for trouble,’ her grandmother would always say.

But on the table would be her plate for dinner. Her aunts and uncle would always hook her up with the latest sneakers. Ariyana learned how to walk not to put creases in her shoes. She spent many nights sitting in her mother’s childhood room, cleaning sneakers with toothbrushes. She stared up at peeling wallpaper, feeling the soft pressure of reassuring hands on her shoulders. No one else would be in the room with her.

And Calum never sheltered her from any of that. He took really good care of her and she never felt like she couldn’t tell him anything. She never felt like there was a disconnect. Until now. Because in her soul, deep in her gut, she knows that she wouldn’t have to worry about this with her mother. Her mother would just get her. There was nothing else in the world besides a mother’s love. Or maybe Ariyana just yearned for her mother right now that it made it seem like that. Maybe all she wants right now is that soothing touch, like when Grandma’s worn leathery palms would cup her cheeks and every ache was soothed. Every worry was squashed in just one touch.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t drive away now,” Calum teases, sliding out of the truck.

Ariyana finally notices that they’re pulled up right in front of the doors of the pizza shop. She nods, glancing over to Calum. Does he know? Is he going to flip? She hopes he wouldn’t. Ariyana hopes that the track record of telling Calum major news proves accurate for future reactions. Like shockingly, he didn’t flip a lid when she was near failing trig. Mostly because she was too busy passing notes to Elizabeth. But she covered that up by saying the teacher just taught it in a confusing manner and Calum asked her if she wanted a tutor. That was all. He encouraged her that she could always try the subject again in the summer or maybe again once school started, but he didn’t give her a spill about how failing classes would never get her into college, or never help her make a living in the world.

But almost failing trig and having to tell him this, the truth, admitting that even she’s not sure about the label--that could never compare.

The car door opens and Calum slides the pizza onto the floor to keep it safe. Just as he gets into the driver seat, Ariyana speaks. “Can we go visit Mom? Like after dinner or whenever it really works?”

Calum nods. “We can go right now if you want. I have blankets in the back. Make it a picnic.”

“Those are the dogs blankets but sure, they’ll suffice.”

“Hey, now, the dogs don’t complain about those nice soft blankets.” He says it on the shot to make her laugh. He can tell something in weighing on her mind. That’s not his Ariyana but sometimes things are just hard to express verbally. He gets that.

“They lack the ability too. So…” she laughs, watching as Calum makes a dramatic show of rolling his eyes and sighing.

The smell of cheese and marinara sauce fills the car. There’s not even the radio playing. Calum lets her have control most of the time. According to her, all he ever plays are the throwback jams. Though occasionally in her shuffle she slips in one of the songs he’s mentioned or played before. She only puts the ‘good ones’ on though, her exact phrasing when Calum brought it up once.

Upon arriving at the cemetery, Calum pauses, watching Ariyana slip out of the car. She skirts around to the trunk, pulling out the blankets. “Trunk water?” she asks, referring the case of water Calum keeps in the trunk. Mostly for emergencies and because he’s had a case always on hand.

“I got it,” Calum returns as he grabs the pizza. He wants to ask if everything is okay. If there’s anything he needs to do, or anything she wants him to do, but he’s not sure if the question warrants verbalization. Something is not okay. Something is going on. Though he doesn’t want to push her at the same time.

Walking over the grass, Calum doesn’t even take note of the headstones that lead their way. Most of the time he does. Most of the time he hates coming here. He never really thought he would’ve griefed a major loss in his twenties. He didn’t think life would be that cruel to him. Yet it had. Yet, he buried her six feet deep, let the oak be a barrier between her flesh and whatever creatures lived in the dirt. But this whole row, the plot they had to pick out together while Ariyana was still much too young, still a babbling baby on one of their hips. Calum can’t remember anymore the specifics.

This whole trek though shows him he’s not alone. Many others have had those same feelings. Many others have cried a flood of tears before him and he can only hope those that cry for him don’t feel too burdened. He hopes that they know his life began and had to end too. It’s at the plot as Ariyana starts to unfold the blanket that Calum wonders if she wants to go to stay with her grandmother. Before she spent a lot of summers there because Calum had to go for a tour, but even during her Christmas breaks, she asked to go more often. Because he has to leave during the school year too sometimes, Ariyana stays with Luke’s wife and their kids. It works out, never find the fact that they have to make it work.

“Do you want to live with your grandmother, Ari?”

Ariyana looks over to Calum, her brows pulled in together in confusion. “Did you nap so hard, Dad, that you lost your marbles? I love Grandma Gigi. But no, I don’t want to live with her.”

“I just--you’ve been quiet. Like something’s wrong. And I didn’t--I didn’t want you thinking that you couldn’t talk to me about whatever it is that’s going on. I know it’s not easy when I have to travel so many months at a time. But like, if you wanted something more stable, I don’t fault you. I wouldn’t be mad.”

Their blankets are straightened out and Ariyana places her arms under the boxes. “It’s crazy, yeah. But let’s be real. I have like four rooms at this point, one at every uncle’s house. Birthdays are like, insane when we all get together to have a party. And I like it, just us. Besides you don’t flip like Grandma Gigi about curfew. Though her cooking is better.” She sees Calum’s faux offense and quickly adds on, “But I do love you. You taught me how to ride a bike. You’re there to help me study when I can’t decode Shakespeare. You paid for me to learn how to fail at tap dancing.”

“You were getting better, sweetheart.”

“I was awful, Dad. And you taught me how to play football and helped me make junior varsity. There’s no one else that could’ve done all that.”

“You were an easy baby. A difficult teen. But an easy baby.”

“I won’t take offense at you calling me difficult. For now. It might come back up in other later arguments.”

Calum laughs, nodding his head towards the ground. “Believe me, I expect it.”

They finally sit, the pizza still warm as they take their first bites. Ariyana really asked to come out here because maybe she could tell Calum without actually having to say it. Maybe her mother would give her strength even beyond the grave. It would be like, coming out to both the people she cared about the most, at the same time. She wouldn’t have to do this over, and over, and over. Except her uncles of course.

Grandma Gigi is going to be a whole other battle. That will have to be a battle she’ll have to fight when it comes up. Right now, she has to tell Calum. With nothing but crust in her fingers, she looks over to Calum. “Dad,” she starts. She’s never called him anything other than that, though she knows he’s not her biological father. She’s never known him as anything other than that. She’s never known him as anyone that would freak, or stop loving her, or shun her for anything.

“What’s up, baby girl?” If Ariyana doesn’t want to move in with her grandmother, Calum’s at a loss. He just wants her to be happy. And healthy, of course, too. But seeing her torn up like this makes his gut constrict. He’s only been able to stomach one slice thus far.

“Have you ever known you were different? Not like you suspected or you were guessing. But you just knew.”

It clicks. Like the switch of a light being turned on, Calum gets it. He exhales, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Well,” he starts, holding the slice on his fingers as he chews over the right words. He stares down at Jazmyne’s headstone. What do I tell her? You’d be so much better at this. He doesn’t want to start out with the ‘whole everyone’s different’ thing. It feels contrived, like he’s trying to weigh his own struggles against hers. All he wants to do, at a moment like this, is let her know he’s listening. He’s picking up the clues. “There’s nothing wrong with different, ya know? Different is good.”

“You don’t think different is like, wrong? Like, there’s a ‘normal’ that everyone’s used too. And different is scary. But is it wrong, ya know?”

There’s no use in trying to beat around the bush anymore. Calum swallows down his bite of pizza resting it on the cardboard box on the side where none of the other slices rest. He looks over at her, as she picks at the dog fur coating her black jeans. “Who you love or find attractive isn’t wrong. It may be different from what others expect of you or what others deem is right. I don’t care who you love. I love different. I accept different. I respect different and that means I love you; I accept you. And it also means I respect you too.”

Almost like a popped balloon Ariyana sighs. All the tension from her shoulders drop. “Was it that obvious?”

“I know when someone’s smitten when I see it.”

There’s a moment, where they both sit, watching the setting sun. Ari’s glad that it went well. That she doesn’t have to hide or fear anything. “You didn’t even let me say it, though,” she points out. “Like, I had this whole speech prepared and everything!”

Calum laughs. “Okay, let’s redo.”

“No, it’s too late now,” she huffs, holding her arms across her chest. Her laughter is bubbling in her chest and escapes her in tufts. “But, in all honesty, thanks. For understanding. I was kinda scared.”

Calum nods. “I understand. But I don’t want you to be afraid of telling me things. I’m always in your corner, Ariyana. Always and forever.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

With empty boxes collected and the blankets folded back up, Ariyana looks down at her mother’s gravestone. “I hope you understand, Mom. Love you.” The car ride is DJ’ed, like usual, Ariyana’s playlist and things are easy again.

It’s about a week later as Ariyana gathers her books from the dining room table for school, when she notices a tiny pride flag pinned to the front pouch of her backpack. She didn’t buy that. Not even in her venture to the mall with Elizabeth last Saturday and they stopped at a small kiosk that was selling a bunch of pins. Elizabeth bought one, if she remembered correctly. But not her.

“Ready to go, Ari?”

“Dad, did I buy that pin?” she asks, pointing to her brown canvas bag.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to leave it there. But I know you’re into pins now.” That explains it. He bought and pinned it there. And if she knows anything, inside will be a bottle of orange juice and some candy, in case she needs the sugar boost during the day. She hates that he does it, but as of late, she’s needed then more and more.

“When’s my doctor’s appointment again?”

“Tomorrow, Tuesday. 1:30. I’ll be there to get you before your lunch time.”

“I’m going to miss trig.”

“You mean you’re going to miss Elizabeth,” Calum corrects, shouldering the loaded up backpack.

“No, I’m failing trig, not failing in my relationship.”

“Smart ass,” he laughs as they shuffle out of the door. “C’mon. You’ve got a test first period and you’re not being late as an excuse.”

“Oh, c’mon, Dad. It’s World History. I can ace it in my sleep.”

It’s true, but still, he’s not going to risk it. Ariyana plays with her phone, mostly texting but Calum’s not shocked. When his stops in the parking lot, the buses are already lined up and unloading. Ariyana grabs her bag, but not before leaning across the console and kissing Calum on his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Kick ass on that test. Don’t be afraid to go to the nurse’s office or call me if you feel another dizzy spell, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Tell Elizabeth I said hi, alright?”

Ariyana can’t stop the smile as she shuts the door. The window already rolled down. “You love having that power, don’t you?”

Calum laughs, leaning forward into the steering wheel but not pressing down on the horn. “C’mon your pops has to have a little fun, ya know.”

She rolls her eyes, wishing she could seriously be upset. But instead, all there is is elation. She calls out another ‘love you’ and then starts towards the front doors. Right on the curb is Elizabeth, waiting for her. Their embrace is quick and they shuffle inside, hand in hand. There’s a moment, where there’s a small pause, Ari showing off the pin and Calum can only grin watching them. “You’re probably already seeing this Jaz. But God, she’s growing up fast. Her first girlfriend. Like, fuck, I’m getting old. So old, but I hope you’re proud. I hope she’s everything you wanted in a daughter. I hope I’m doing you proud.”

Calum knows he’s been watching too long when the buses start to leave. But part of him is worried. Afraid that he’ll pull out of the parking lot and she’ll wind up in the nurse's office waiting for him to rush to get her. He’s worried that he’s going to pull off and when he comes back she’s going to graduate. It might be her second year in high school but it already feels like with every blink she keeps growing up. He can’t stop her. He can’t keep her as that babbling baby on his chest who’d laugh at the raspberries on her cheeks.

It’s on the drive back home, when there’s no music, no laughing from his right. When it’s just him and the road and the breeze floating in that he feels something on his cheek. It’s warm for a quick moment, even tinkles, and then gone. It’s not a bug, not some stray piece of hair. It encompassed his whole cheek and he thinks it was Jazmyne, cupping his cheek, like she always did before she’d pinched his cheeks. It never failed to annoy him.

A tear slips from his eye. At the last red light before turning into his neighborhood, he doesn’t stop the ones that overflow the waterlines of his eyes. “I know you’re there.”

Tagging: @5-secondsofcolor @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

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blaster-aichi · 4 years

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Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 22 things

forgot to post this, heck

Aw, cute shopping trip because they feel things are drawing to an end, barrier or no — [gets distracted by the little girl who looks just like Shingo]

Given the topic of conversation, felt Emi’s downcast expression was a hint of bittersweet realization that her time with Shuka is running down, then get smacked with even ruder sads.

There’s something massive ironic about Majesty Lord being pulled to the antagonistic side of battle after his role in the original Season 1 and embodying unification between Royal and Shadow Paladins when things get dire, now faced against the both of them.

Ren taught Shuka ‘Bukki’, bless.

Very appreciative of the explanation why Majesty Lord was so importaant to Shuka to Realize, though curious as to why he wouldn’t manifest in the first place.

MISAKI SIGHTED. Please don’t relegate her to post-Legion Mate Quatre Knights of voiceless cameos.

Side-eyes Emi for picking cards purely because of their cuteness, your friend’s calling you out.

With the truth of what led Aichi to ruling Sanctuary, Emi’s moment of finding no alternative but for the blame to fall on him is very relatable; at least some of us have been grasping at any explanation because we couldn’t imagine Aichi doing this of his own will, it’s incongruous with his character, and Emi may have been doing the same, but with options whittling down, she’s been forced to face that scenario that this has been all by his design and it upsets those of us who have been trying to figure out any other scenario, but to her, naturally it’s world-shattering.

How dare you fuckers use the same sads track from episode 7 where she was talking about the Aichi she knew.

He looks so worn down and I’m so upset. — Even his tone when speaking reflects his exhaustion and reluctance to deal with shit. Please let me hug him.

Is this the first time he’s said ‘Toshiki’? Feels like this is the first time he’s said ‘Toshiki’.

Even when they don’t meet, fate crams them into one another’s heads. That’s gay. (But doesn’t go the Legion Mate route and make it a clean injection, both of them have become tremendously distressed and pained and I scream).

Takuto, you can’t just say that in front of him?!

Emi actually draping Aichi’s jacket over her shoulders is so cute, she really is giving it a piggyback ride. After he mentioning it aloud how he left it behind, half-expect returning it to be one of her first gestures once he’s brought out of his antagonist role.

Takuto’s referencing Outside World Aichi brings back thoughts of the previous theory that IF Aichi had been doing all this in an effort to reach outside IF, why do you hurt me in these ways after that backstory, Bushi? At the same time, Takuto needs shaking if he had any inclination that IF Aichi would have the mental fortitude to cope with that possibility existing elsewhere after a lifetime of loneliness.

The poor boy hid in the shadows and hunted for Kai-kun just to verify Takuto’s theory and torment himself more, sweetie no... Considering his methods for keeping his very existence from the potential of breaking the IF illusion, it’s consistent, but sweetie no...

Takuto onto Aichi’s bullshit. The post before this clarifies, but his solemn delivery and feeling responsible for accidentally instigating everything, would like to hope he’ll be able to make a move in helping to rectify Aichi’s state.

Two things: You’re saying he had nothing to pass on through Miwa? And why did he never contact Suiko or Rekka before? Because there was no certainty they were inside IF? Isn’t it apparent they would follow once he and Kourin never returned? Did he even try?

Sad Rena howling noises in the background.

If Aichi is banking on her saving him, never let him know there was a moment where it all got too much and Emi gave up on him. — She’s doing the Misaki episode thing again. — Though it’s understandable the guilt she must feel; they might be correcting the timeline, but she’s conveyed her feelings before that each iteration of a person isn’t any less valid than another; though Kai-kun has come to terms with and accepted that there is another version of himself in a “proper” timeline, the same is essentially true for Aichi and Emi, who for all we know, could/will vanish along with him. It might not just be Emi sympathizing with others and not wanting to write them off as incorrect versions, but trying to validate her own and her brother’s existences as well.

Suiko and Shuka are onto the price the group are going to pay regardless; the preview isn’t subtle about it. Whether it’s Shuka having to move onto another place where more cards are waiting for her to rescue them or something more final awaits her, it’s difficult to tell. Though the former is simply a part of her journey and might not evoke the sorrow from someone like Suiko, it might be a sore spot for her, particularly with everything she, Kourin and Rekka lost, faced with having to watch the same happen to someone else. But Emi herself seems already be aware of this, she’s a smart girl.

IF 23

Squad goals. Squad goals.

Aichi looks ready to straight up murder and have to wonder who taught you how to pull those faces, boy?

If you’re going to be fighting in the area, please keep the babies safe from harm. Who knows what they might see?

What space-time commotion did you guys cause to alert all the other major characters across the city?.

On the one hand, more Majesty Lord Aichi aaaaaaa. On the other hand, that episode title, screams. (Now are you guys directing that to Aichi, Kai-kun or Shuka? Sus)

This take on the “They Never Met” story:

It’s taken a while for the fact IF is taking the route it is with the story to sink in; a lot of thoughts and feelings are still incredibly jumbled, but here goes An Effort.

As someone who's childhood has a lot of overlap with Aichi’s, it’s incredibly painful to actually see him endure it without the beacon of hope that gave him solace and the toll it’s taken on him to endure it. Having a loving family and a sibling could alleviate the pain, there are fond memories with things with my family that don’t make my childhood an unending nightmare, and it’s apparent that he and Emi were particularly close; though understand that by 16, he’s exhausted by it all, pretty sure I was.

I want to believe that he was able to find at least one other hobby to keep his life from being completely devoid of happiness; reading, writing, art, a love of animal, photography, meeting people on the internet, there has to be something. There are plenty of outlets that could have channelled his imagination to keep it from building with no freedom. The lack of clarification about what he spent his time doing does nothing to help this belief or deter the fears that he really never tried to find anything, and really hoping that’s able to change before the season is through.

But something about Aichi’s reasoning really doesn’t line up. He claims to be doing this so that he be the only one who has to suffer. And really struggle to fathom how he could think so when Emi and Shizuka, would and are suffering with him. Emi’s own pain has been right in his face and he’s turned away, he can’t be that narrow-minded to think she isn’t in anguish or that forgetting him would magically erase that of her or Shizuka.

My understanding (or interpretation, headcanon, what have you) of Aichi has always been that his unrelenting kindness stems from knowing well the absolute agony of complete loneliness and hopelessness, so he acts to help alleviate or prevent the same feeling upon others. Vanguard shouldn’t have any bearing on that trait staying with him or not; that’s something within Aichi, not created by one facet of his life that appeared one day, particularly when he’s even more familiar with such a rock bottom, even if the exhaustion of it weighs on him; he’s always put on a smile and done his best for someone else’s sake, no matter the cost to himself — and that is what he’s doing, but it’s incredibly difficult to believe he can only manage that demonstration of kindness towards others when he’s connected to or aware of Vanguard.

I can understand Aichi being worn down, I can understand him being a bit hostile and reluctant. But to lack his good heart and throw everything away, to put his family through the nightmare he has been, I can’t understand that, it just isn’t him. He isn’t that dependent on Vanguard to be a good kid.

With how vital the event and relationship are to both Aichi and Kai-kun, to explore the possibility that they would never meet is fascinating, but this feels like a lukewarm attempt at it, at least in regards to what this episode covered and that in itself is saddening, it feels like an incredible premise with wasted potential, just like Legion Mate. It saddens me immensely that this is how they tell that story, more so when it’s the last one we might ever have from this cast.

Late-Bloomer PsyAichi:

The only possibility, and this is very much a last-ditch at this point, draws on ideas from Override (is there an IF plan in the works? laughs with shovel maybe since the day before epi 1 aired), so chances are these might be as swiftly debunked as other ideas.

With the rapid influx of memories breaking through the IF illusion, Aichi’s imagination’s shackles were released, according to Takuto. The result was Psyqualia overloading Aichi, its poisonous nature of the original continuity repeating itself as a result of festering inside of him for years without usage.

By retaining this nature, it amplifies Aichi’s fixation on Kai-kun, maybe through an amalgamation of other PsyAichi remnants in line with the original continuity who became overwhelmed by that obsession blinding him to the pain that other characters have experienced through their connections with Vanguard or the suffering he’s putting his own family through to see IF secured.

His mind struggles to contend with the sudden explosion of power and his sanity withers when viewing possibilities that he was never granted, reinforced by Takuto’s claim that Kai-kun’s life is better as it is, of Aichi’s strength in those other worlds, of longing to reach his alternative selves and feel his existence holds any value. He doesn’t truly have control over himself as a result of this madness, which is why he refers to Kourin by just her name.

How Sanctuary itself formed, there’s just nothing that comes to mind. Unless IF has special properties that just haven’t been explained that allow for more supernatural events to occur — like Sanctuary’s appearance, the battlegrounds that don’t inflict real world damage on their sites — can’t really wrap head around how Aichi was able to create it.

The original distortion’s root:

Something else that still doesn’t make sense is Shuka being led to Blaster Blade as a withering existence. And as Aichi himself never played a part in that, the past couple of weeks had had me suspicious of Nome, and other fans have been pointing fingers his way as of late. His disappearance in episode 1 hasn’t been addressed, and it’s odd for him to so briefly show up only to seemingly play no part.

It’s just a possibility, but he, whether tainted by something Brandt or sibling jealousy, tampered with the Akashic Records to lure Shuka in and cause the accident that prevented Kai-kun and Aichi from meeting, shaping IF Aichi’s life to keep him from deviating from a path that Nome had set for him, using someone else’s brother (and someone known to be a powerful force is let loose) as a weapon.

If Brandt has a part in any of this, perhaps he infected Aichi with it, to allow it/his Psyqualia/imagination to overload him when exposed to the truth beyond IF.

This is all just grasping at straws at this point because really struggle to see Aichi doing this of his own accord and I believe him to be better than this, I want to believe the writers do too.

#Cardfight!! Vanguard #Cardfight!! Vanguard IF #cfv spoilers #idk i'm just sad and other feelings that don't know how to word #this feels even more difficult to take than if he was being completely controlled or manipulated or something

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood

Chapter Summary: Jon and Martin have somehow found themselves back at the Magnus Institute, with Tim and Sasha and some complications.

Read at AO3 above or read here below the cut!

Chapter 1 on Tumblr here.

“Martin.” Jon’s whispered caution was unnecessary; Martin realized right after he did it that saying Tim’s name might not have been the best idea. They really knew nothing about this place, or who this man actually was. It didn’t seem to have fazed the man that looked like Tim, though. Or maybe he just hadn’t heard it.

“Where have you two been? And why are you out here? And… fuck, that’s a lot of blood.” The color drained from his face. “Is it—is it your blood? Oh shit. I’m—I’m calling an ambulance.”

He grabbed his phone.

“No.” Jon managed to push past Martin to sit up for the first time since they’d been here. “No. We’re fine.”

“Jesus, I don’t know how you could be unless—unless it’s not your blood?” The man who was maybe Tim didn’t seem particularly ready to put his phone away. “Please tell me you didn’t kill someone.”

“No.” Jon shot a warning glance at Martin, who hadn’t actually considered arguing semantics at that moment. “It—it is mine. And… a bit of his.”

Martin started.

“You haven’t seen yourself,” Jon said quietly.

I guess not.

Maybe-Tim finally decided that he wasn’t going to call anyone, at least for the moment. “Can you—can you get up? I mean—you should—you should probably come inside, at least.”

With a small nod from Jon, Martin accepted help standing up, and found he was much steadier on his feet than he would have guessed.

As he helped Jon up in turn, Jon leaned into him. “Don’t say anything you don’t have to. I know—I know how this feels, but—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Martin answered. “I’m sorry I—”

“It’s all right.”

Maybe-Tim didn’t even notice their exchange; his attention was on his phone again. “I’m messaging Sasha. I’m… I don’t even know what to tell her. I’m just telling her to meet me in her office. Are you—are you really sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

He definitely just said he was messaging Sasha.

“Jon—"

“It’s fine.” Martin couldn’t tell if Jon was responding to him or simply answering the question, but it sufficed for both. “Let’s go.”

***

Walking into the Magnus Institute was unnerving in a way that Martin wasn’t prepared for. Yes, he had just lived through a fear apocalypse, but that was part of the issue. Every domain they had encountered had been its own nightmare, in one sense or another. Fears had been isolated and then amplified, exaggerated to the point where they couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than what they were: pieces of a literal hellscape. He had grown accustomed to knowing that no matter what unimaginably terrifying thing he had just seen, the next thing would be worse.

Here, there was just something off, something subtle, and subtlety wasn’t his specialty right now. This, well, it was the Institute, and also it wasn’t. Sure, there were some physical differences—a paint color that didn’t seem quite right, a sign indicating that the Office of Research was located on the third floor instead of the second—but those things didn’t make it not the Institute. Martin had worked there for enough of his life to see those kinds of things change before. That wasn’t what was getting to him.

It was the feel of the place. The feel was different somehow, but he couldn’t sort out in his own head exactly what he meant by that—he couldn’t even be sure it was true, or if it was maybe how it had been in their world too, and it was merely his memory of it that had been rewritten.

They followed Tim down the stairs to the archive. Martin had given up trying to think of him as anyone other than Tim. It wasn’t just his face, or his voice as he rambled about what a mess they were; it was the way he walked, what he did with his hands as he talked, his whole demeanor.

As they entered the reception area, Martin heard another familiar voice—he recognized Rosie’s practiced, cheery-but-professional tone immediately. He’d been overhearing it for years; it had become part of the general background noise of working in the archive for him. There was even something uplifting about it, given that the last time he’d seen her was passing her on the stairs on his way up that tower, with that ever-sinking feeling in his gut. She’d seen him too; they hadn’t spoken to each other.

Unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t mutual. She was startled enough when she saw them that the handset she was speaking into clattered to the desk.

“Oh.” She stood up. “Is—is everything ok? Do you need me to call someone?”

“I guess not,” Tim answered. “Look, we’re going to talk to Sasha and then—I don’t know.”

“Oh. Well… Ms. James is in her office. Please let me know if I can do anything?” Rosie seemed more upset than Tim, and Martin started to really understand what he and Jon must look like to—well, people. He had to admit, Jon did look pretty bad, and he had no idea what state he was in. He didn’t realize he had stopped walking until he felt Jon tug at his arm.

“S—sorry.” He couldn’t help but apologize to Rosie, who continued to stare after them as they entered the archival assistants’ office.

Martin was again struck by that peculiar mixture of recognition and unfamiliarity. So much in this office felt like he remembered it—his desk even had the same odd-colored back leg it always had. He recognized Tim’s desk too, almost exactly like it used to be, before Peter Lukas insisted Martin clean it out himself. It had been a relatively successful tactic for making sure he never wanted to go in there again.

And then there was Jon’s desk.

A wave of vertigo hit him, strong enough that he had to squeeze his eyes shut to fight it. Of course, Jon’s desk had not been in the assistants’ office—that was a simple fact—yet somewhere in his mind, it was almost like he remembered this version of things too, that this was the way it had always been.

When he was able to open his eyes again, he found that both Tim and Jon had stopped to look at him.

“Sorry. Something just—never mind. I’m fine.”

He looked at the head archivist’s office, which stood at the other end of this one, and the name painted across the frosted glass very clearly read Sasha James.

***

The four of them sat around the circular desk in the assistants’ office in an uncomfortable silence. After Sasha’s initial shock had worn off, and Jon had insisted yet again that they did not need to go to the hospital, she had asked Rosie to make them tea. That was the one positive point; at that moment, it felt like maybe the best tea Martin had ever had.

Tim finally spoke. “So… any chance of you telling us what the hell is going on?”

“Tim,” Sasha scolded. “Clearly, whatever happened, it’s not easy for them to talk about.”

“Well, it’s not easy for me to not talk about.”

Martin felt bad. “Sorry, it’s just—”

“It’s complicated.” Jon cut him off again.

“And are we also not going to talk about this?” Tim motioned toward their hands, which they held together on the table without thinking. Martin immediately moved to pull his hand away, but Jon tightened his grip with a firm never mind.

He left his hand where it was.

“Tim.” Sasha turned to face him. “They disappear for two months, we can’t find any trace of them, they turn up covered in blood and—well, not to mention all of the—the weirdness that’s been happening in the meantime, and that’s what you want to talk about? Really.”

Martin glanced sideways at Jon. Gone for two months—what did that mean?

“Yes! Yes, it is. You can’t tell me you don’t want to know.”

“Tim, I just think—” Sasha sighed and shook her head before turning back to Jon and Martin. “Are you really sure you’re ok? I mean, we—looked for you, we tried reporting you missing. We even had an officer come out here—what was her name, Tim? You had her card last.”

“Alice Tonner,” Tim replied.

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand.

“Right, her partner called her something else, though… Anyway, the thing is, they didn’t seem very interested. Like… she asked if we’d been in touch with your families or anything, and well, obviously we hadn’t, and she just said something about people picking up and moving all the time, and—well, I don’t think they even bothered filing an official report. They said they’d check in again, but we never heard from them. We even tried calling them a couple of times, I left messages, but they never got back to us. I mean, I’m sure they’ve been busy, but—”

“What do you mean, they’ve been busy?” Jon asked. Martin was surprised Jon would venture a question.

“Well…” Sasha seemed to consider whether she should continue, but she did. “The thing is, since you’ve been gone, some odd things have been happening. Not like, on the news or anything, just to people. We’ve even had a few come here, to the Institute, wanting to talk to someone about—well, what they think has happened to them. I guess we have a kind of reputation. But of course, no one knows what to do with them, so they send them down to the archives—and I mean, I do talk to them, I guess? Take some notes? But that’s not really—”

In the middle of her explanation, Martin suddenly noticed how tired he had become; he was exhausted. Interestingly, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, because it was the exact thing he and Jon had experienced when they first arrived at Upton House. It made sense, he supposed—after all, they hadn’t really been sleeping, however long they had been here—but the fact that it made sense didn’t help him go back and prepare for it.

He heard a commotion, the sound of chairs being shoved from the table, felt hands and arms helping him to lie down on something. Somewhere, amid the rest of the noise, just before he lost consciousness, he heard Jon insisting again that they were ok, that Martin just needed sleep. He knew Jon wasn’t talking to him, but it helped.

***

Hours later, Martin woke. He was still horribly tired, he could barely open his eyes, but once he realized Jon wasn’t nearby he wouldn’t let himself go back to sleep.

As he forced himself into wakefulness, the first thing that really came into focus was the sofa. He had been sleeping on a sofa, which hadn’t been a fixture in the assistants’ office where they came from—yet he remembered it had been in that office, briefly. Tim had brought it in with a friend one day, early on, claiming they needed somewhere a bit more “welcoming” when patrons came to visit the archive. Frankly, Martin had agreed with him, although he wasn’t sure he’d wanted to know all of Tim’s plans for it. The chairs in the office were particularly stiff, and although it wasn’t exactly Tim’s point, he could have used a comfortable spot to take the occasional break. Of course, Jon had immediately insisted it was unprofessional, and when Elias—Jonah—had backed him up, Tim and his friend had grudgingly hauled it back out again a few days later.

Here, though, Sasha had approved, with the caveat that it needed a new cover. Tim had happily obliged, and of course, Jon had ended up using it more than anyone, thanks to his insistence on keeping late hours when—

Wait, what?

He tried to remember more, but Martin now found it impossible to recall. It was strange, just moments ago he’d had such a clear picture of Jon—

Jon.

He sat up to find Tim at his desk, already looking at him.

“You all right?” Tim asked.

“I’m—yeah, I think so. Just tired.”

“I really can’t believe we haven’t called someone, Martin, you two—”

“Where’s Jon?”

“What?”

Where’s Jon?”

Tim gave him an odd look. “He’s in Sasha’s office. As soon as we got you on the couch he passed out. We managed to haul him in there and bring in that old cot from the back room.”

“Can I see him?”

Tim shrugged. “I suppose.”

Martin was relieved to find Jon sleeping peacefully on the cot when they entered, quiet, still. Breathing. His eyes were closed for the first time since—well, since the first few nights they had spent together in Scotland.

“Has he… has he been sleeping like this?” he asked, glancing as Sasha.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like… normal.”

“I think so,” she said. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

Martin nodded, fighting a sudden surge of emotions too complicated to identify.

“Are you all right?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” Martin lied, before thinking of a second, slightly more truthful answer. “Actually I’m—I’m kind of hungry.”

Fortunately, Sasha kept extra food in her office, just in case she had to stay late; unfortunately, at the moment it just happened to be canned peaches. Martin briefly considered holding out for something else, but the empty pit in his stomach disagreed with that idea. Instead, he went with option two, getting it over with—and by the time Sasha had found a spoon for him he’d already downed half the can.

“Well,” said Tim, “that looked extremely unpleasant. In several ways, actually.”

“Sorry.”

Martin was just starting to worry about what he was going to say to fill the time when Jon stirred on the cot behind him. Martin wordlessly handed him what was left of the can of peaches. Jon was obviously disoriented, but ate readily enough after Martin got the spoon from Sasha for him. They watched him in silence for a moment, until Tim snapped his fingers suddenly enough to make Martin jump.

“I forgot, I—hang on.” He disappeared into the assistants’ office, and came back with a couple heavy plastic bags looped over his arms. “We’ve been keeping these in the back. It’s the clothes you left here. The police weren’t interested in them. Thought maybe you’d want to change? You do look a bit…”

Martin knew he was pushing it a little bit, but he asked anyway. “What do you mean, the clothes we left here?”

“They were just… there,” Tim answered. “On the floor in the office. Thought maybe you were pulling some sort of prank for a bit, but then of course you didn’t turn up.”

Martin looked at Jon, who paused mid-mouthful. He’d forgotten about that little complication, the Jon and Martin who had apparently disappeared from this place. The longer he thought about it, the more uncomfortable it made him. Jon swallowed and set down the can, which Martin noticed he hadn’t finished. “I think… I think we will get changed.”

Tim handed them the bags and waved toward the empty assistants’ office. “All yours.”

As they dumped the clothes out on the floor, they could hear Tim and Sasha speaking in low voices next door. Martin couldn’t make out what they were saying, although it was clear Tim was very unhappy—but at least it seemed reasonable to assume no one would be able to hear them, either.

“Jon,” Martin said after a moment, “do you think we—I mean, the Jon and Martin that—”

“Don’t think about it.” Jon was already halfway out of the clothes he’d been wearing. “Not yet. We need to get out of here. I need to—I need time. To think. And we need more rest. But not here.”

Martin couldn’t argue with that, but he also had no idea where to go. He sighed, and turned to the clothes that had been in the bag. Although he couldn’t recall if he’d owned that exact jumper, he would never have bet he didn’t. And as it turned out, the trousers fit him perfectly—he didn’t know why it surprised him. At his height, and well—general size—he’d always had a bit of trouble finding clothes that fit, so he supposed it was mostly that he didn’t want to accept they had belonged to him. A different him, that maybe no longer existed.

He sighed and turned back to Jon, half wondering why he hadn’t been hurrying him along—and found him frozen with an expression on his face that Martin would have placed somewhere between worry and surprise.

“Jon?”

“I’m—” Jon started to answer, but then stopped.

“Jon?” he prompted again.

“Look.” Jon held out his hand toward Martin, and he realized it held a set of keys.

“Are those—yours? Um, his?”

“They were in the trousers. A phone, too. But I—” Jon stopped again.

“Jon, are you—”

“I touched them and—Martin, I know where he lives.”

“What, like, know?” Martin pointed upward, a gesture he’d adopted a long time ago when referring to the Eye.

“Not like that. It’s different.”

As soon as Jon said it, Martin recalled the experience he’d had when they’d entered the assistants’ office, and also when he’d woken up on the sofa—memories from a place and time that he shouldn’t have had. “Oh.”

“We need to leave.” Jon was starting to sound a slight bit panicked, and Martin knew they really would need to find a way out soon.

“Ok, ok, but… where do we go?”

“Here,” Jon said, holding up the keys.

“Oh, Jon.” Martin felt a little sick. Those peaches weren’t sitting well.

“I know—just—don’t think about it.”

“Look, are you sure we can even get in? I mean, if they’ve been gone for two months—”

“Tim and Sasha don’t even think there was an official police report. I’ve always had my rent… I’m—I’m sure he…” Jon trailed off.

Martin didn’t like it, but Jon wasn’t looking good. He gathered up their discarded clothes and packed them into the bags, not wanting to leave anything behind. “All right. Let’s just… tell them we’re leaving, I guess.”

It went over about as well as he expected. Tim simply threw up his arms, and even Sasha lost her composure a bit. “Are you sure? I mean—you don’t seem—even if you don’t want to talk to us, you probably should really at least go see a doctor. Can we take you?”

“I’m sorry,” Martin said. “I know—I know this has been—”

“It’s been absolutely ridiculous!” Tim cut him off. “You haven’t told us anything. What were you even doing outside in the first place? Where have you been? What happened?”

“I’m—I’m really sorry,” Martin stammered.

Sasha sighed. “What should we tell Elias?”

Martin wasn’t even touching Jon, and he still felt his body go rigid behind him. Oh god.

“Please, we’ll—we’ll check in.” He had no idea if they actually would, but it was the only thing he could think of to say. His available hand found Jon without turning around as he started to back out.

“We’ll check in,” Sasha said, as Tim continued to protest.

“Are you really just going to let them—”

Martin had an arm fully around Jon now, guiding him back out of the office.

“Tim, I really don’t know what you’d have me do here. Call the police again?”

He didn’t hear Tim’s reply, and was only vaguely aware of Rosie’s concerned stare as they made their way out.

***

They were a few blocks away when Jon nearly collapsed; Martin immediately dropped the bags of clothing he was carrying to help support him.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Thankfully, Jon did. “You ok?”

“Martin, I don’t—I don’t think it’s Jonah.”

“Um—ok,” Martin answered.

“I don’t see how it could be. There was no—there was no mechanism here, without—it wouldn’t have worked.”

“Ok,” Martin answered again.

“But also—” Jon drew a shaky breath. “You feel it, right? That it’s—not him?”

Martin didn’t bother asking for clarification; he knew what Jon meant, although he hadn’t felt it. “I don’t know. I think—it only happens when I’m not trying.”

“Hm.” Jon was drifting again.

“Wait—wait,” Martin said. “Are you saying—are you saying actual Elias Bouchard runs the Magnus Institute?”

“Yes, I—I think so.”

“How? Why?”

“Because—because he did in our world. Sort of.”

“What does that—”

“I can’t explain it right now. I can’t—I need time. I need…” His breathing, which had slowed, was starting to pick up again.

“Ok, ok—it’s fine. Jon—you’re ok.”

“Am I?” Jon asked.

“Yes—Jon, it’s all right. Look—just get us where we’re going and I’ll—I’ll take care of you.” He shifted his grip and ran his thumb over Jon’s cheek, trying to keep him there. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you until…”

“Until what?”

“Until—until you feel better. I’ll take care of you until you feel better.”

“And what if I don’t? What if I never do? What if—”

Martin didn’t know what else to do; all he wanted right then was for some of the worry to leave Jon’s eyes. He pulled Jon close and pressed their mouths together; he held him there until he felt some of the tension leave his body. It wasn’t an answer; he knew Jon had only given up struggling against their situation for the moment, but that would have to be enough. That would have to get him to whatever was next.

“You will.”

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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loulougoingsolo · 4 years

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“Is it alive?”

I am a huge fan of True blood. I also have some degree of face blindness (as in sometimes, in some situations, I can’t recognize my own parents, or I mistake a stranger for a family member). I obviously know who Joe Manganiello is, and yet, when I first saw his face on today’s GMM, I thought to myself, oh, another celebrity guest I’ve never heard of. Until I heard his voice, and saw his name on the screen. Is it a bad excuse for not recognizing him, that I've mostly only seen him without his shirt on (and with a beard)? Once I saw past the hoodie and shaved face, I was a little starstruck. (I mean, even though I just recently wrote a rant about how all famous werewolves are male and it makes no sense, I have absolutely nothing against Alcide. He carried his canine heritage, and his fur, with honor.)

Talking about fur, is it just me or has Link appeared to be particularly fluffy in the head region recently? Is he growing his hair out, too? Rhett’s hair surely seems like it has lost the battle against gravity today, but maybe it’s just because for once, they have a guest who is almost as tall as he is...

Also, are they having some kind of “wear your bff’s clothes” week at Mythical? I could swear Link has worn that blue and pink shirt before, and the rust coloured shirt Link is wearing today looks more like something Rhett would wear (if my memory serves me, please correct me - but if I’m wrong, they definately should wear these shirts the other way around, too).

Today’s episode is the second edition of the amazing game of What’s on My Mask?, and just like the previous time, the true star of this game is the Mythical art team. Yes, the masks are weird, but they are also pretty cool and awesome.

Well, I can’t honestly call Larry the Cable Guy mask cool. I was quite surprised by how long it took Rhett to figure his mask out, but his thought process was a delight to watch. And Joe carefully explaining him that the mask is not something like in the Silence of the Lambs was hilarious. “Put the lotion in the basket.” I wonder if Link has seen that movie? At least he seems to get the reference.

It took a while, but Rhett finally managed to get from the Sausage man (through Kevin Bacon - Bill Worker - did he actually guess Mall cop? and the Cable Pasta Guy) to Larry the Cable Guy. I think even Link’s Walmart method might have gotten there faster. Let’s go to round 2.

Joe’s mask is like something from a steam punk nightmare. Very cool, but also pretty scary. Not only because I hate vacuum noises and they absolutely freak me out, but somehow not seeing his eyes through the mask makes this worse. I do wish they’d tilted the camera just a tad more, because the awesome mohawk of vacuum parts is barely visible.

Of course, Link managed to confuse Joe completely with his hints. I mean, yeah, technically you probably use a vacuum to clean your books, but that is a far stretch (I should probably vacuum my bookshelves at some point soon). For once, Rhett was doing the right thing trying to steer Joe’s thoughts away from anything Link said, and since he is starting to look a bit angelic with his long locks, Joe saying it feels like having the angel and the devil on his shoulders is pretty accurate. But how very L.A. is it that after Rhett says this is something you’d take into any room, Joe’s first guess is a bong, and not, say, a vacuum cleaner? Was this the first time in GMM history that Link actually used the word bong?

Once the cleaning appliances were out of the way, it was Link’s turn to guess.

The doll head mask Link wore in the earlier version of this game is iconic, but so is the ant farm mask. I’ve never had an ant farm, but if I’m not completely mistaken, it must have taken a while to get the system running, with all the tunnels and everything. And, there are trees and houses above the whole thing! I was dying watching Rhett and Joe follow the ants slowly creeping toward Link’s hair, while Link was perfectly oblivious to what he was wearing. I wish we’d been able to see his expression when they talked about the potential danger involved. His shoulders look worried.

“Is it alive?” “Yes.” “Is it contained?” “No.”

A few questions later:

“Are they gonna remember me?”

This sweet little man is worried about possibly traumatizing the poor things on his head. He is handling the situation surprisingly well, and somehow, he doesn’t panic quite as much as with the orbee in his ear as with an ant. The mask does get a little foggy, though.

In GMMore, the guys try to guess which Dungeons and Dragons creatures are real and which are not. I’ve never played DnD, probably mostly because I live in the middle of nowhere and there can only be so many geeks in one little town. I’d actually love dressing up in a costume for a game night, but the sad truth is, I have trouble finding anyone willing to even play Scrabble with me. I’d like to try DnD though, so far everything I know about the game is based on Stranger Things and iZombie, and now, GMM. Who would have known that the game has actual embassadors, and that Joe Manganiello is one of them?

Oh, and here’s a little tid bit of information regarding the word fartlek - which the guys try to define for the wheel ending. It’s originally Swedish, and means speed play (not the drug, but actual rate at which you are going kinda speed). Fart means speed, and lek means play. I do prefer the definition the guys came up with, though. It reminds me of a similar measure for distance used in Finnish Lappland, poronkusema, which means the distance between the times a reindeer needs to take a break to pee (they can’t run and pee at the same time). Apparently, this distance can be up to 7.5 kilometres. And this concludes the informative part of this post.

I do wish people still played more games without electronic devices. A game like Dungeons and Dragons leaves so much more room for imagination than a pre-directed video game, and the artwork shown for the real creatures is amazing. My problem with video games has always been that things get too intense - which is why I usually just make crossword puzzles instead. I wonder if my poor heart could take the excitement of DnD?

What a fun episode this was! I’m always impressed at how comfortable the guests seem to be on GMM. When you compare GMM to any regular talk show, they do so much more background research to make sure they have something that fits what the guest is interested in, and it shows. When the guests are having fun, it makes it so much more interesting to watch. I do hope Link gets to visit Joe’s house one day for a game night.

#gmm #gmmore #gmm 1681 #rhett and link #joe manganiello #what mask am i wearing?#real or fake dnd characters?#link wears an ant farm mask

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avaantares · 4 years

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FFVII:REMAKE - A Review

So I beat the game two weeks ago and started writing down my thoughts while they were fresh in my mind, but I didn’t post anything then because my one IRL friend who is also playing it hadn’t finished it yet and I didn’t want to risk posting anything spoiler-y. But the extra time has allowed me to play through the game again on Hard difficulty, which has allowed me to reconsider and elaborate on some of my thoughts. And frankly at this point I just need to dump my Very Big Opinions somewhere, so... here ya go.

I discuss visuals, gameplay, character and story below. I’ve tried to keep spoilers minimal up front, though obviously if you want to go into the game totally cold, don’t read this. All major spoilers are clearly tagged. All of it is below a cut to spare your dash.

Also, there are pretty pictures, because why not?

First, my background with this franchise: I played through the original FFVII multiple times; I’ve watched and rewatched Advent Children and Last Order, played Crisis Core, gave up on Dirge of Cerberus despite my deep love for Vincent Valentine (sorry, VV, but your game was just a mess), and lamented that Before Crisis wasn’t available in my country. I even played (and own!) Ehrgeiz, the obscure fighting game that featured the main cast. (Still bitter that they didn’t keep Miki Shinichirou as the voice of Sephiroth. He’s one of my faves.)

^ Ehrgeiz, a mediocre fighting game that forever endeared itself to me by including Turks!Vincent Valentine as a playable character. 💖

In short, I’ve been waiting for this game for DECADES.

So. Here we go. My thoughts on Final Fantasy VII: REMAKE.

The good:

The character models are very pretty. With individual pores, threads and scuffs visible, they’re so detailed that it’s almost impossible to reconcile them with the mouthless sprites from the original game – even more so than Advent Children (and dear goodness, that was over a decade ago now, wasn’t it?). Still, they’ve kept the costume details and absurd proportions largely intact (Barret’s fists are literally larger than Tifa’s entire head, yet somehow it works visually), so it’s not too much of a departure from the familiar.

They’ve kept the aesthetic. I was afraid the game would try to update the iconic world of Midgar, but by and large, it’s full of visually-arresting designs that preserve the gritty-industrial look and feel of the original.

Japanese version is included. BLESS YOU, Square Enix, for including the Japanese voices and character animations. Not only is it impossible for me to hear Cloud in anything other than Sakurai Takahiro’s voice, but the Japanese script is a bit nicer to the characters. I’m not really keen on the English dub… but more on that below.

They fixed the spelling of Aerith’s name. This may seem like a minor point, but considering it’s been 20 years and I’m still bitter that Devil May Cry still hasn’t corrected “Nelo Angelo,” it’s a small victory.

Improved combat. Admittedly, I wasn’t sold on the new combat system at first, but after playing through the game twice, I’ve come to really like it. It has a few rough edges and can get chaotic in some battles, but it does a decent job of blending the feel of an action game with turn-based strategy. The fact that you can switch to a more traditional turn-based system if you prefer is also nice. (I haven’t tried Classic mode yet, though.)

Weapon customization. The Skill Points system allows you to upgrade your loadout instead of acquiring new gear. The tutorial was somewhat lacking (I didn’t quite figure out the multiple-core-unlock thing right away), but I appreciated the ability to add materia slots or stat buffs rather than just cycling through a dozen swords that Cloud apparently keeps in his back pocket.

Background dialogue management. On the whole, the conversations as you run through town enhance the story without slogging down the gameplay; you don’t have to stop and talk to every single resident, because snatches of their conversation reach you (and your on-screen chatlog) as you pass. You can stop and listen for more detail if you want, or you can just keep moving. The extra worldbuilding is really nice.

The music. The orchestrated versions of the original themes are excellent (and some of those music cues gave me goosebumps… Did I spend way too many hours immersed in the original game? Probably). I can take or leave some of the collectible jukebox tunes, but the background music in general is good. (But did I earn that Disc Jockey trophy? Yes, yes I did.)

Supporting character development. Jessie, Biggs and Wedge actually have characters! And personalities! Clichéd ones, admittedly, but it’s an improvement over the original game killing them all off within the first few minutes. The game also does justice to the Turks, and actually surprised me with how much depth of character it gave Reno and Rude in particular (perhaps setting them up for a mini redemption arc so players forgive them for dropping a plate on tens of thousands of slum residents?). Their moments of concern for each other and (brief) crises of conscience made them more than the stock villains they were in the original game, more in line with their temporarily good-aligned characters in Advent Children. Tseng, likewise, was on point. However, I do have to qualify all this with one irate question: Where the heck is Elena?! Seems like the female characters are always getting left out… /sigh/

Improved plot devices. REMAKE cleans up some of the more questionable and outdated content from the original. As you likely already know from the demo, the new game somewhat exonerates the protagonists by having Shinra blow up their own mako reactor to turn public opinion against AVALANCHE (possibly because someone finally realized that it’s hard to sympathize with characters who are willing to melt down an entire reactor and kill a bunch of innocent civilians). AVALANCHE are still eco-terrorists, but they’re… terrorists with a conscience? I dunno, at least they feel bad when people die now… Likewise, the weird and uncomfortable Honey Bee Inn segment of the original game has been reborn as an amazing dance extravaganza. Less voyeurism/prostitution, more Vegas floor show (complete with minigame choreography) and makeover. The whole Don Corneo scenario is still hella creepy, but frankly, there’s nothing that can fix that.

Series references. Fans of the original will appreciate all the inside jokes and direct references to the original game and other franchise entries: One-off comments about Chocobo racing; a broken console in Wall Market that shoots at you; a framed picture of the original 32-bit Seventh Heaven; ads for Banora apple juice; side mentions of characters and plot devices from spinoff games; PHS communication… The game definitely pays tribute to its history. They even recreate the original loading screen and several of Cloud’s iconic poses/animations throughout the game:

The neutral:

Recycled gags. Look, I know Advent Children was the ultimate evolution of FFVII for a while, and admittedly, it did some things very well. The running gag with Rude’s sunglasses and the victory fanfare being used as a ringtone are some of the best moments in the film, in part because they were so unexpected. But as much as I enjoyed the repeated nods to AC in this game, they felt a little desperate, like there were no new jokes to insert so they had to double down on the ones they’d used the last time this franchise had a renaissance. (See Rude’s broken sunglasses, below.) And fitting into the series as a whole, it feels a little weird. Why is Rude’s ringtone the same as the clones’ from Advent Children? Does Barret really need to sing the victory fanfare over and over when he defeats an enemy? Is there supposed to be some history behind that song that was left out of the worldbuilding? It just feels too meta.

Arbitrary localization of names. I don’t really grasp why it was necessary to rename so many items and characters for the English market. Some changes make sense for localization (e.g. Whack-a-Box certainly works better for an American audience than Crash Box), but others seem arbitrary, like changing Aniyan Kunyan to Andrea Rhodea or Mugi to Oates (a play on the meaning of his name in Japanese, but... does it matter?). And then… well, I don’t want to spoil A Major Plot Element, but there’s another thing that changes names from one English word (in the Japanese track) to a different English word. Why? No idea. It doesn’t affect gameplay, and it’s not really a problem, but listening to the Japanese track, I found it jarring to have the subtitles contradict what I was hearing.

Underutilized characters. While the whole gamut of original FFVII characters make appearances, several of them aren’t used to full effect, or aren’t used at all to advance the story. Rufus Shinra’s bossfight is a decent challenge, but while his character was vital to both the original FFVII and Advent Children, his presence in this game is little more than a cameo. His fight could be cut or swapped out with any other boss, and it would have zero effect on the plot. Similarly, while Hojo is a key player in the full story (which this game doesn’t cover, since it’s only a fraction of the original timeline), he’s largely wasted here, except as a means of extending play time by making you wander through corridors and fight a bunch of monsters for “research.” (I have no idea what his motivation is; you’d think he’d be more interested in recapturing Aerith or Cloud, but instead he just... opens an elevator and lets them leave? after they beat up some midbosses.) Reeve Tuesti actually has a solid presence in this game, but since he’s ONLY ever active as himself, there’s no explanation for the random Cait Sith cameo in one scene (players new to the franchise probably have no idea why a random cartoon cat showed up for a few seconds and was never mentioned again). Obviously the plot arcs have to change when the game is covering only a few days’ time in a much longer story, and the major players need to be introduced at some point if they’re going to feature in later games in the series, but from a narrative standpoint, there are an awful lot of superfluous characters doing things for no reason in this installment.

The bad:

THE PADDING. Dear goodness, there is so much padding to make this a standalone game instead of just the first chapter of a longer adventure. I got really, really sick of running literally from one end of the map to the other on side quests – and that’s me, an avowed trophy hunter who spends hours scouring dark corners for collectible items in other games, saying that. So much of this game felt like time fill that didn’t really advance the story. It’s also full of unnecessary new characters with improbable Squeenix hair, like Roche the super-annoying motorcycle SOLDIER (below), or Leslie, Don Corneo’s doorman who somehow merits his own backstory and side quest. (Though in fairness, every FFVII sequel has added superfluous characters, with Crisis Core possibly being the worst offender.) But it just felt really drawn-out and bloated for a game of this generation. If this game had been as compact and tightly-written as the other games I typically play, it probably only would have taken me 15 hours to beat instead of 50. (I don’t actually know how many hours I spent on it the first time through, as I didn’t check the play clock before restarting on Hard difficulty. I do know it took me over 110 hours total to complete the game on both modes, though much of the second run was spent dying repeatedly on a handful of nasty fights. Hard mode removes items and MP replenishment, and if you run out of MP at any point during a chapter, you’re going to die. A lot.)

The pacing. Related to the above... the Midgar portion of the original game was just the setup for a larger story. It wasn’t meant to have its own complete dramatic arc so much as to introduce you to the world and the major players. Consequently, there are some really odd beats in this story, as well as a total lack of urgency in your mission. There are no natural places to slot in the side quests and minigames, so they’re shoehorned awkwardly between plot sequences. “Quick, our friend is in mortal peril and needs our help!” "Okay, cool, we’ll go rescue her after we spend ten hours running around town doing random errands for townspeople and playing games with the local kids.” Uh... what?

The graphics just aren’t as good as they should be. While the character models are gorgeous, there are a lot of low-res background textures and weird polygons that don’t quite match up with other components. Most egregious are the Shinra logos, which frequently get close-ups as part of the fixed camera work and, frankly, look like lossy JPEGs. (See image below, screencapped from a PS4 Pro. Those jagged edges on the logo are present throughout the entire game.) There are weird clipping errors and artifacted images and reflective surfaces that don’t reflect, making the game look more like something from the PS3 era than a 4K late-gen PS4 game. (And it’s not that we don’t have the technology: Uncharted 4 was released back in 2016, and the rendering of its vast world was twice as pretty. Devil May Cry 5, released in early 2019, has far more realistic textures and object interaction. Granted, those are different types of games with fewer NPCs to render, but I feel like there’s no excuse for a game this big to look this mediocre.)

The HUD could be better. The lower-corners concept is okay, though it took me a while to train my eyes to travel between both sides of the screen and track the fight action. But for a long time, I didn’t even notice the commands in the upper left corner of the screen, and after playing through the game twice I still have no idea what they say because I couldn’t focus on the tiny text long enough to read them while trying not to die in combat. (I just looked it up; apparently they’re combat control shortcuts? Huh, that would have been useful to know.) It wasn’t until my second time through that I realized there even WERE separate controls on screen during the motorcycle minigames; I had resorted to panicked button mashing to figure it out the first time through because there was no tutorial (you’re just dropped into the action) and, having ignored the small text for the previous hundred combats, I had no reason to look for on-screen instructions there. Not that it would have helped, since on many backgrounds the text in the upper left is really difficult to read (see below). It’s worth noting that I have better than 20/20 vision and played this game on a large TV screen and still had trouble reading some things; on a smaller TV, or for someone with less acute vision (like my sister, who is blind in one eye), I think even the basic menu controls would be difficult to see. While you can resize the font for subtitles, my cursory glance through the menu did not uncover an option to increase the size of the HUD.

Inter-fight menu mechanics. Specifically, the inability to save (or save loadout settings) between fights in a multi-part sequence. There are several back-to-back fights in which it is necessary to switch characters or change gear between bosses. The game treats them as one continuous fight, though it does allows you to access the equipment menu by holding square during key cutscenes. Which is good, if you only have one of a particular materia or accessory that you need to switch between characters, and in most cases when you die the game lets you restart just before your current fight instead of restarting the whole sequence -- also good, since some multi-stage bosses can easily take 20-30 minutes to beat, and if several of those are strung together in sequence, you’re in for a long play session to get past them. But since it’s treated as one fight, you can’t save between bosses (more than once, I had to leave my PS4 running in Rest Mode overnight and just hoped we didn’t have a power glitch), and if you happen to get killed and need to restart the fight, your loadouts reset. Which means if you’re, say, fighting the end boss on Hard difficulty and get killed in the first two minutes -- which happened to me a lot -- by the time you restart the fight, sit through the unskippable cutscene, access the menu and rearrange all the materia and accessories you need, you’re spending five or six minutes gearing up for two minutes of play, and then doing that over and over again every time you die. It gets really old.

The English dub script. *deep breath* Okay, look, I know I can be a bit elitist about translations, but I really do not like the English adaptation of this game. It makes Cloud come across as less socially-awkward and far more of a deliberate jerk, Aerith is mouthy and even swears (which is not accurate to her original character), and it downplays some of the symbolism that’s more obvious in the Japanese script. One quick example: When Aerith gives Cloud a flower, she says (in Japanese), “In the language of flowers, this means ‘reunion.’” It’s subbed/dubbed in English, “Lovers used to give these when they were reunited.” That’s a subtle difference, but since the concept of “reunion” is a freakin’ huge part of the FFVII plot, and since Sephiroth was on screen literally seconds before that line is delivered, my brain automatically went, “OMG REUNION!!!” while I’m guessing people listening in English only picked up on the romantic subtext. It’s a pretty minor thing, and of course translation is always a complex balancing act between literal meaning and local market understanding, but the English version just seemed to me to have a different vibe overall. (Unfortunately, the English subtitles are the same as the dub, so unless you can understand the Japanese audio you’re kind of stuck with that dialogue.)

[WARNING: SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT]

- …And my #1 complaint about Final Fantasy VII: REMAKE is…

…it’s not actually a remake.

Sure, the game starts out the same way and covers a lot of the same events, but fundamentally, it’s a sequel, not a retelling. It’s evident from Cloud’s future-oriented visions throughout the game that something else is going on, and the ending MAKES NO SENSE if you don’t already know the story. Heck, even the rest of the game doesn’t really make sense if you don’t know the story -- Sephiroth’s presence is never explained; Zack isn’t even introduced, just shows up randomly at the end; Cloud’s flashbacks of Tifa and her dead father in Nibelheim are left as a complete mystery (and since she evidently remembers the burning of her town, judging by her dialogue outside Aerith’s house, why doesn’t she even react when Sephiroth shows up?).

The core elements of the plot – the Feelers (Whispers) preserving a specific fate; the three entities from the future (whose weapon types just happen to correspond to certain named characters) defending their timeline; the return of post-Advent Children Sephiroth (the only time we’ve seen him in human form with one black wing), who has inhabited the Lifestream since his death and promised that he would never truly disappear, who in the end appeals to Cloud directly for an alliance rather than attempting to control him, because he knows now that Cloud is strong enough to defy the Reunion instinct; the change in the outcome of story events in which Biggs (and, unconfirmed as to which timeline he’s actually in, but quite possibly Zack) now survives his intended death -- all point toward Sephiroth trying to manipulate destiny into an alternate outcome in which he is victorious, and using this naive version of Cloud to facilitate it. That means this game is taking place in an alternate or splinter universe, created at some point after the events of the original Final Fantasy VII, and possibly even after the events of Advent Children.

All of that is fine from an overall continuing-story perspective – it opens up a lot of interesting possibilities, like the fact that Aerith might survive now that Cloud has seen prescient flashes of her death (among other events), and there are opportunities for more story twists and changes from what players might expect. But touting this as a remake of the original game has the potential to confuse players who are new to the franchise. FFVII was groundbreaking back in 1997, and it defined JRPGs for an entire generation of Western gamers. But that was more than two decades ago, and a lot of current gamers weren’t even born then, so while they’ve probably heard of the classic game, they aren’t necessarily steeped in its lore. FFVII:R relies heavily on prior knowledge of the series to carry its twist ending, so it largely fails as a standalone game.

Also, speaking as a longtime fan of the franchise… I honestly found the ending rather lackluster. It was a twist, of sorts, but not the sort of shocking, mind-bending revelation that made the first game so iconic. Granted, it’s hard to follow an act like revealing that your protagonist’s entire identity is a lie, not to mention killing off one of your main characters a third of the way into the story! But when the surprise ending is just, Surprise! We’re going to change things up a bit this time around so you aren’t entirely sure what’s coming! Also, here’s a gratuitous Sephiroth fight because everyone expects that, even though it doesn’t serve the main story at all nor resolve any conflicts previously established within this game! it smacks of Different for the sake of Being Different, not for the sake of a really amazing storyline they’re hiding up their sleeve. It’s a bit of a let-down, and I find that I... just... don’t really care that much. Which, for someone who’s been a fan of the series for nearly a quarter of a century, means there’s a Big Freaking Problem somewhere. If you’re not keeping the attention of your die-hard fans, how do you hope to build a fanbase of players new to the franchise?

Given the pacing and story issues inherent in this game, I’m not convinced that the following game(s) in the franchise are going to be structured any better. Considering the amount of pure side-quest padding they did in Midgar, I have no idea how they’ll maintain that same tone on something the scale of the World Map portion of the original game, unless they just completely eliminate things like Fort Condor and the submarine and the spaceship side quests. I have a feeling the Gold Saucer is going to be reduced to a Jessie flashback, a Chocobo race (probably to win a key item), and a battle arena run like the coliseum in Wall Market in this game. If they include all the story elements and side characters from the original, this series is going to be a dozen games long.

Still, on the whole this game was enjoyable, and I’m glad I played it. It wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, but they haven’t completely killed off my interest, so I’ll probably continue with the series whenever the next game comes out. Though I’m not really sure if the higher-priced edition I pre-ordered was worth the extra money, so I may wait and see how the next game is shaping up before deciding which version to get...

But if they don’t give me a really pretty (playable) Vincent Valentine in the next installment, I may riot. I do have priorities.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii: remake #ff7:r #final fantasy 7: remake #ff7 remake #video games #long post #review

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sebthesnipe · 4 years

Text

The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagin an Analysis? (Part 1 cuz it was a lot longer than expected)

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Okay so first off… I get asked a lot what I can do with a forty-thousand-dollar degree in Literature when the job economy is so crap… Answer: Lay awake at 2AM analyzing your favorite fanfic authors. So, here we are. Before I begin however, I wanted to make a few things clear: First, if you have not read any of @whatwashernameagain’s work I highly recommend you do so. She is very talented. You can find her on archiveofourown here; and The Dreamer Chapter 1 here. Secondly, I realize that most authors don’t look into their work as deeply as the reader does when writing an analysis and that a red door may simply be a red door… but where is the fun in that? And Lastly, there will be spoilers… So… Beware! (Also it is a Sanders Sides fanfic so check out Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders on youtube as well if you haven’t already)

WARNING: Spoilers under cut!!

I’m not sure how many of you are familiar with the literary theory of Reader Response (its pretty much exactly what it sounds like) but I’ll probably be addressing it throughout this post. In fact here and here great introductions to the literary theory; which can be defined in its most broad sense, as a criticism that “considers readers’ reaction to literature as vital to interpreting the meaning of the text” (Purdue Writing Lab). Not very clear is it? Basically, Reader Response is the concept that readers have just as much say in what the work means as the author does. In other words, “readers do not passively consume the meaning present to them by an objective literary text; rather they actively make the meaning they find in literature” (Purdue Writing Lab). Without the author there is no reader and without the reader there is no author.

That’s probably a lot of mumbo jumbo to take in but I’ve studied so many literary approaches that it is merely a glimpse into the stuff rattling around in my brain when I read any type of work. I don’t tell you any of this to flex or show how smart I am… …. Well… not really anyways lol. I am explaining this now because it will be important later in the post. Now! Onto the really fun stuff!

CHAPTER 1 (Again spoilers!)

Okay, going into the work I knew the premise: Superhero vs. Villain eventually becoming friends and even lovers. I’m totes down! However, Eva (the author (Whatwashernameagain) never ceases to pull in the reader from the first line!

“He’d chosen to call himself the Utilitarianist, the etymology of which was clearly derived from the Latin word ‘utilis’, meaning ‘useful’” (Whatwashernameagain).

First off! The italics are beautiful! They pull attention to the fact that whoever it is that is naming himself (*cough* Logan *cough*) has already shunned the outer world. He doesn’t care what others have to say. He is deciding this for himself. The sheer amount of strength in a single word because she used italics is stunning and I’m certain she doesn’t even realize what she has done.

Moving on to the actual name is another thing entirely. I know that ‘Utilitarianism’ is defined as “the ethical doctrine that virtue is based on utility, and that conduct should be directed toward promoting the greatest happiness of the greatest number of persons” (“Utilitarianism”). So first, this screams Logan, secondly there is a lot to be said for the name choice. While, the hero/villain’s goal is obvious by the name (doing acts that are for the ‘greater good’) there is a lot to be said for personality here. Obviously, it can be taken that whoever chose this name is insecure in a way; only taking value of themselves by how useful they are. The man no doubts feels as if he is only as valuable as the contributions he makes, which is certainly relatable. So, within the first sentence we learn quite a lot about a single individual and are already drawn in… then again, that’s Eva for you.

Within the next paragraph we learn that the he is in fact a ‘villain’ though I like to think of him more as a… misguided vigilante… but Logan is my bea… so… yeah. Once again, we see italics: “They called him a villain” (Whatwashernameagain). It pulls the reader’s attention to the separation the Utilitarianist is making between himself and the outside world. The feeling of loneliness just from the two italicized words is almost suffocating, at least to me (hence Reader-Response theory). Eva always has such a way with capturing emotions so subtly its breath taking. It certainly is one of her biggest strengths. I mean, here we are not even two sentences in and I’m already moved by the isolation of the villain.

Moving on down the line, we see that the Utilitarianist feels he is doing good for the world… sees himself as a hero rather than the villain the world sees him as. Eva also begins to apply descriptors to the not-villain. “Cold and infallible logic” is used to describe his work. Knowing Sanders Sides as I do its obvious that at this point, I have an assumption as to which character the Utilitarian is (and I’ve already read the work once or twice) but this practically cements it. The reason I bring these four little words to your attention however is the simplicity of them and the giant impact they have. Just as the italics spoke volumes so does this small excerpt. The loneliness I mentioned before only grows with these words, becoming an image of shivering, icy fingers reaching out for someone who isn’t there, the only thing keeping him warm is his own logical calculations…. Its… so heartbreaking… Damn it Eva!!! T.T

Within the next paragraph however we’re moving on to a more light-hearted tone as the Utilitarianist calls the world small minded and unable to understand his ‘superior logic’ (Whatwashername). That, in and of itself, gives way to more personality, breathing more life into the previously abstract character and making him more human… though far less humble lol.

I feel as if I really need to move a bit more quickly through this work to keep this post from getting to long but… Eva’s work with emotional subtext is so stunning I can’t help myself. We’ve moved from the first sentence drawing attention to the separation of the Utilitarianist from the public’s view of him, to the lonely cool logic behind his actions and now within the next few sentences were pulled into a whirlwind of frustration and all of it is so seamless. It may seem like something small and inconsequential but there are published best-selling authors that struggle with it regularly and she manages it so flawlessly (and if I had to guess, without even really thinking about it.

The frustration I mention above is visible through the way the Utilitarianist uses descriptors pulling attention to names like ‘whistleblower’, ‘eco-terrorist’, ‘extremist’, and the way he points out more than one, obviously frustrated. He also insults the world once again pointing out their ‘small minds’ and ‘hypocrisy’; the media calling him ‘cruel’. Again, it’s the subtle things that really make a work shine and as usual Eva’s work is almost blinding.

“His enemies were clear to him, chosen not by his own selfish passions or greed, but by pure, beautiful logic” (Whatwashernameagain).

This line…. Oh, this line…. -sighs dreamily at the words-

So, Reader-Response theory can be interpreted in a number of ways but basically what you need to know is that everyone reads things in different ways due to their own life-experiences, interests, backgrounds, opinions, etc. So, this tiny line that most wouldn’t think twice of is one of my absolute favorites. Why? Well… Lets just say that I have four copies of every Sherlock Homes book (Sir Arthur Connan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes) (Leather bound, hard cover, soft cover, and children’s versions). Which means I’m a bit of fan. Why is that important here? Well, Logan’s (the Utilitarian’s) thought here, pulls me straight back to Doyle’s work. It is so Holmes-esc that it makes me all warm inside and brings a smile to my face. Not to mention it is another shift in the emotional tone of the work, pulling the reader from frustration to an almost affection as Logan addresses his work. This provides the character with even more complexity making him more tangible than ever. There is already so much depth to this character in the first half of this chapter than it astounds me… I am never disappointed in the woman’s writing.

As I read about some of Logan’s target, I have to pause because of just how real some of these issues are. “Fast food chains that ate away the natural resources with their disgusting wastefulness, earning money on the back of animals starved of space and clean air. Government funded projects poisoning the water of people dependent on it. Radioactive plants secured so badly the surrounding hospitals were filled to the brim with cancer patients. Presidents who criminalized people for their skin, their sex, their religion or orientation” (Whatwashernameagain). It makes we want to bring attention to New Culturism and New Historicism but that’s a whole different can of worms. For now, I’ll just say that in today political and environmental climate these are some real issues and she knows that. She knows her audience, for sure! I feel as if this could be a real power play, not in any bad way but in the sense that she can pull at the concerns of so many readers at once with Logan addressing these issues, submerging them in support of his unconventional solutions. How else do you make a reader fall in love with a villain but with sympathy and support? Brilliant… just bloody brilliant.

“Public acts of violence threatened to cause a brutalization of the human mind and thus cause more violence due to normalizing it by prolonged exposure” (Whatwashernameagain).

I won’t spend too much time on this but… Holmes-esc… just saying… I love it so much!

“Despite any attempts to paint him as a ruthless monster, the people were his ultimate ally… Ultimately, he believed the world would come to understand his superior philosophy” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, lets pause for a moment. We get some conflicting information here (not in a bad way). Up until now Logan has isolated himself from the world but now, we find out that the people work with him. This is conflicting not because it goes against what has been said but simply what the reader has assumed (reader-response theory). When we really consider it, of course there would be support for his tactics. Trump has supporters… I don’t see why but he does… It’s only logical that someone who is actually making change for the better (even if his methods are extreme) would have them too…. Wait… Did I just compare Logan to Trump?! I’m going to go cry in a corner now… T.T No, but seriously Eva is making her readers think and ask questions that they have to fill in the blanks for, themselves. Its fantastic! The truth of the matter is, the best works have the readers read between the lines, fill in the blanks, help mold the story to their own liking, and she does this so Wonderfully I am jealous and awed by it all. As for bringing the world around to his philosophy we as a reader know that’s probably not going to happen but that might not be the point of the sentence. Perhaps, its to bring a small sense of eccentric tendencies in a far less subtle manner to Logan or just determination. I feel that it does both whether intended or not and does it beautifully. It makes it obvious that Logan is still lonely and determined to bring others in on his work while deluding himself that they will. I think most of us have been lonely enough that we went just a little crazy at one point or another… Which makes Logan more relatable.

Unfortunately, I have to go to work; but I will be back with a Part 2 of this. I have a lot more to say so be warned! And yes, I realize there’s going to be a lot of TLDR’s but it’s a good thing I’m writing this more for myself than anyone XP so… until next time…

Purdue Writing Lab. “Reader-Response Criticism // Purdue Writing Lab.” Purdue Writing Lab, https://owl.purdue.edu/owl/subject_specific_writing/writing_in_literature/literary_theory_and_schools_of_criticism/reader_response_criticism.html.

“Utilitarianism.” Dictionary.com, Dictionary.com, https://www.dictionary.com/browse/utilitarianism.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

#The dreamer #villain!logan #hero!roman #Sanders Sides #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #logan/roman #analysis #readerresponse #reaction #whatwashernameagain

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

the in between moments {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Summary: A few moments from the reader's pregnancy, and a few moments after.

A/N: 2664 words. (the writing demon holding my eyes open as I try to sleep: just because you closed your laptop doesn't mean you're free from me.) Anyways I wrote this on my phone and now it's 4am. A bit angsty but happy ending.

It turns into a waiting game, and none of you like to talk about it. It's easy, at first, to pretend like the universe is humouring you; the three of you invest in a bigger apartment, something closer to town with another bedroom, not that you all didn't love the little flat you and Ben had been sharing since the start of all this, but it was too cosy for a family, you all decided.

Family; how strange that word sounded as you turned it over in your mind. It was, of course, inevitable for Roger, he's got his real children - but what made them any more real than yours? - not that it matters to your version of him, at this point in time he's just as in the dark as you and Ben are. For all your sakes you find it easiest to stay out of the spotlight. The moment you start showing, you quit your job; your current co-workers were well aware of your romantic entanglements, more than once Roger's latest Instagram post had been the subject of on set gossip, the type that always went quiet and giggly the moment you entered the vicinity making it so clear they'd just been talking about you. They didn't need to know about this. Ben promises to help you get your job back if you want it after the baby's born, and you say you'll consider it, but for now you enjoy the relative peace.

Ben takes Roger to red carpet events and when the press speculate about the state of your relationship, Roger actually manages to hold in his fury, though there's a few photos with him in the background with his hand clenched so tightly it's painful and white knuckled.

When he flops beside you on the sofa, forgoing the after party for the awards show, still riled up from the comment, part of him needs some small reassurance from you. Ben's still at the party, getting drunk with his costars and messaging that he loves you both and that he hopes Rog got home safe. Roger, for his part, is sulking beside you, still mostly in his suit with his bowtie undone, the whole look doing very Unholy things to you in your hormonal state. It takes him a bit to actually admit what's wrong, he's champagne tipsy from the event and he's distracted by the YouTube documentary you'd been playing in the background, but then your lips are pressed to his jaw, softly asking what's wrong as you're unbuttoning his shirt and he's filled with conflicting emotions.

There's no hesitation in him as he lays you back against the plush sofa, but there is hesitation when he comes to rest his hand on the gentle swell of your stomach, your old, ratty singlet riding up to expose a sliver of your skin. He doesn't say it, doesn't know how, the anxiety the reporter had brought out in his leading to a great that somehow held his vocal cords hostage. Despite this, you know what he needs to hear.

"I love you, Rog," and your voice, like your hand where it comes to rest on his, is gentle, "and you clean up real nice." With a smirk, your gaze drifts down his well tailored but vaguely disheveled suit ensemble, and you actually bite your lip. He wants to make a wise crack about your outfit of choice, a singlet that was practically falling apart and a pair of cotton pyjamas shorts that you used to complain about being too big for you, but seeing you here, like this, with his hand on your pregnant belly, he thinks you look absolutely stunning.

When he kisses you, you're grinning. Ben gets some very interesting and very lewd pictures that night, though you're both asleep and rather fucked out by the time he gets home, he knows you both well enough to see the images as a promise rather than just mere teasing.

Both of them come to your doctor's appointment when they can; the only had experience the three of you have, though you're not even sure if the boys even notice, is when the ultrasound technician starts giving you these weirdly judgey looks when she realises that you don't technically know who the father is.

"He's got your melon alright," Roger grins, leaning forward as he looks between the screen and Ben, eyes shining with amusement. Ben snorts.

"You're blind, babe, and so's that kid if those eyes keeping looking so much like yours," with a smirk he turns to the politely confused nurse, "do they all look like aliens at this stage or is that just Rog's genes?" And his gaze slid to where you were struggling not to laugh at their antics, his own smile endeared at the sight of your joy.

"No, that's all you and your fat head, if anyone's got alien genes it's you," Roger shoved at his shoulders before wrapping his arm around a now laughing Ben. "Maybe it's Y/N."

"I mean the kid's definitely got her nose." It's the quickest and first thing they've agreed on about the baby since seeing the ultrasound. After your laughter has died down, you see the technician's expression. The boys don't notice, well maybe they think she's a little catty when she says the alien look is pretty universal at this stage, that genetics tend not to play a factor just yet, but the way she's regarding you makes you feel so small and a bit shameful. Which is fucked, you contemplate upon leaving, you've worked hard to earn a comfortable life with the men you love, and no bitchass sonographer is going to make you feel bad for that.

When you tell the boys back at home, they're quick to agree, to physically remind you of the love that you've earned.

The nickname for the baby is technically Joe's fault, he calls the baby Billie, since Ben almost exclusively referred to it as 'The Kid'. Ben picks it up first, starts saying Billie the Kid, before you all just start shortening the joke to Billie.

Before they're even born, the kid has a number of nicknames, your favourites being Billie Goat, Billiam, and Bandit, though that last ones only for when they're kicking hard or leaning directly on your bladder. It takes until you're all arguing about whether or not to put the kid's name on the door for you all to finally talk about actually naming them. All of you have suggestions, of course, ideas for names that somehow just don't fit right. You bring up the idea of waiting to actually see the baby to get a feel for the name, but it still doesn't feel right.

"What if we just name them Billie?" Ben breaks the silence, and Roger is quick to him with agreement. You'd been calling the baby they for so long in your mind that at this point everything else felt unnatural.

"What if they want to become a lawyer or something equally dreadful?" Roger asks, and you can't help but laugh at that.

"Well then we give them a fancier name on paper, but they'll be our Billie." You assure, voice dropping to a coo as you rest a hand on your rather large baby bump, as if assuring your unborn child.

Last names are a whole other argument.

Briellen Taylor-Jones was born three weeks premature, and with hey umbilical cord around her neck, and so you'd had enough time to concede on the last name debate, but not enough time to pick a middle name amid your panic. The first time you really get to hold her is a few days after she's born; she's been in an incubator and you've mostly been also, but in your arms she's smaller than a loaf of bed, and sleeping soundly.

"This-" when the nurse had first passed her to you, both boys had been there, looking so proud it almost hurt. You couldn't stop smiling, overwhelmed with joy, tears in your eyes, "this is our little Bandit, huh?" You ask softly, shifting as best you can to make room for both Ben and Roger on the little hospital bed. "Billie the Kid- our kid." You correct, and hold her close to your chest as tears of joy and exhaustion and of overwhelming cathartic release of the past eight months finally escape you. Both of your men wrap their arms around you, Roger's head on your side and Ben pressing a kiss to your temple. With contentment in your heart, you think that Freddie said it best; no motherfucker in the universe is going to upset it.

But it's still a waiting game until you forget what you're waiting for, and that's when the universe takes back what it did give so freely. This is all you can think when days later, a week after Billie's been born, Roger's gone.

You weep at the irony, but mostly because his absence hurt so fucking much.

He goes back to the mid-Seventies and is blissfully unaware; Queen are blowing up, he tours and he fucks around and he sees John's baby for the first time and his heart fucking aches for reasons he's not quite sure of.

In the present, you and Ben... well it's hard. A few weeks after Roger leaves and you find yourself in a doctor's office being told you have post partum depression. Ben still works a lot, not because he wants to, he'd much rather be helping you with Billie, but he's still under contract.

And then there's Billie.

Nothing, not your hormone imbalance brain, not the disappearance of one of your partner's, not even the fact that you have to spend time without her whenever you even just have to run to the shops, leaving her with Ben; none of that could stop you and Ben from loving her more. She's got Ben's smile, and your nose, but somehow, apart from the colour which is all yours, she's got Roger's eyes, you'd both know them anywhere.

Billie Meddows Taylor-Jones is treated like a princess, and counselling really helps you, and Ben takes time off, and it's jarring to realise, just shy of her first birthday, that at this point you're just a happy family. It hurts, at first, Roger's still meant to be here, meant to be part of this, and you know when he comes back - because he will, he has to - he'll fit right in where he belongs with you and Ben. And then it hurts less and less, because his return is inevitable and Ben love you, and you both still love Roger, and you know that he's going to love and adore Billie when he meets her.

When Roger wakes in the future in the park next, and it's always some grubby, urban park that's littered with cigarette butts, he lets himself get his bearings before his whole world comes crashing down around him. He doesn't know the year, is too afraid to check, just sprints to where he hopes you still live; the flat you had bought together.

Your names are on the list of buzzers, and he presses it and waits with baited breath. When your voice crackles over the speakers, tentatively asking who it is, all he needs to say is two words.

"I'm back."

He's not sure what he's expecting on the eighth floor, but when he knocks, he hears footsteps and then hesitation. You open the door slowly, hesitantly, and he hates the expression that you wear whenever he comes back, like you can't quite believe he's real. But then his gaze slips to the toddler in your arms and oh fuck he's been gone for so long.

"Ben's at the shops." Is the first thing you say and he wants to kiss you so bad, but he's absolutely frozen, just gazing in the awe at the little girl frowning with intensity up at him. "Hey Bandit, do you recognise him?" You asked gently, voice light though you're already sniffling with tears. The girl - Bandit, Billie, his Billie - reaches up like she's holding something, wiggling her thumbs, and you laugh softly, "that's right, he is from mummy's phone, do you know who he is?" You asked fondly, and Roger's heart is in his throat as the little girl's whole face lights up as she looks to you for confirmation.

"Daddy!"

It takes all of Roger's self control not to swear in front of- in front of his daughter. It's as if you can see him repress the urge and you look both thankful and amused.

"That's right, that's your daddy." You say gently, and immediately the little girl reaches out insistently for Roger, frowning and frustrated when he just looks back at her, beaming with tears in his eyes. When she makes an angry noise you finally chuckle, gesturing him forward, and he complies. Grinning, quietly laughing, he obliges the demanding little girl when she reaches for his face. Far more pleased, she pats his head with determination.

"Luh-vu much!" She says brightly, before kissing his forehead. Roger just looks up at you, eyes wide and adoring and confused. Billie looks very pleased with herself.

You invite Roger in, and Billie scampers back to where she's got a tea party set up, and you and Roger curl up on the sofa to watch as she builds a whole universe in her mind. It feels like nothing's changed. When he asks quietly about what had happened at the door, you pull your phone from your pocket and he drapes an arm around you, pulling you close to better see the screen. When it lights up, your lock screen shows a photo of you Ben and Roger from a few years ago.

"Billie likes to ask about who people are, especially in photos, and we have lots of you around because of course," Roger presses a kiss to your temple at that, you let yourself sink into his embrace, just a little more, "and so whenever she asked about you, we'd always," you choked up a little at the memory, looking at Billie rather than Roger, "we'd always tell her that that was her daddy, and that he loved her very much, and then she'd get a kiss on the forehead." You laughed gently, and Roger swore gently under his breath, unable to help himself, unable to react in any other way.

"My kid, my daughter." He half laughed, Billie was almost the spitting image of you, and he already adored her.

When Ben gets home, Roger practically bolts at him once Ben's put down the groceries. Ben actually spins him, kisses him so passionately when he puts Roger back down that it might have made you blush if they weren't also both yours, though the moment is broken by the patter of Billie's eager footsteps as she joins the men, hitting at Ben's thigh.

"Spin!" She cries, and Ben steps back from Roger, elated to oblige his little girl. Roger's heart aches at the sight of Ben's smile, knowing just how much he's missed, but then Billie's reaching out for him, asking him to spin her too, so young and bright and she loves and trusts him already because both you and Ben had made sure he'd fit right back in to your family.

"Hey Bandit, guess what." He grinned once he'd stopped spinning her, and she gave him a bright, curious look. "I love you very much," he announced brightly, before pressing an obnoxiously loud kiss to her forehead, and she was giggling loudly, a sound fondly reminiscent of you, before she repeated the gesture back to him. He looks over to where Ben's joined you, both standing by the couch, both looking a little like you can't believe your eyes, but it's good this time. None of you can stop smiling.

402 notes · View notes

glassbangtan · 6 years

Text

Forget-Me-Not {Min Yoongi}

Words: 5564

Notes: This was inspired mildly by Jimin's song, but not really. But kind of. I'll probably end up writing one entirely dedicated to Jimin's song with Jimin, but until then, here's the fake version with Yoongi.

Summary: You and Yoongi are in a private relationship. So private, that Yoongi has to deny it. What happens when you can't take the denying of such strong feelings any more?

Warning: Fluff + Angst.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader.

That's Jung Hoseok's girlfriend.

That's Park Jimin's girlfriend.

They got praise.

That was all you ever noticed when you were out with them. Fans would stop them, ask for pictures, ask about Jimin and Hoseok and have a real conversation with them about love lives they quite honestly didn't feel like talking about.

You watched it happen on an almost daily basis. As you paraded around Bangtan Sonyeondan with a camera in your hand, stopping each boy for individual interviews every now and then, you heard it all. You heard them complain, heard them laugh, heard them get angry, heard them get overjoyed at the simplest of things. It was Jin with his food, Jimin whenever Jungkook did something even slightly wrong, Jungkook with Overwatch.

It was them with their girlfriends. Laughing, enjoying their time together that was so limited yet always so treasured.

Not many people believed you when you told them you were Min Yoongi's girlfriend. But why would they? You rarely ever spoke about it. People asked you who you were and you always replied with your name – never your relationship status.

But then there was the odd time when people would ask you why you were with Yoongi all the time. Why Yoongi looked at you like you were sun. Why you were so special to him, but the truth never filtered through their brain. Why would it? You weren't an idol – Yoongi wasn't even allowed to publicly talk about your relationship without getting a slap on the wrist from his management.

You had liked it for the first few months. The privacy. The intimacy that the odd moment between you and Yoongi would be, because they were so rare. You two weren't allowed to be seen giving affection when there were cameras around, though that barely ever bothered you due to you being one of the staff who were forced to haul the cameras around.

But then it got more serious.

When asked who was single, Yoongi would always raise his hand. When asked why, he would just say, “I'm not really looking for anybody right now,” and it was the way he said it that pulled at your heart strings. The way he said it so casually and with so much truth behind every word made you want to curl up in a ball and cry.

And then it got worse. Date nights were cancelled. He would barely look at you if there were cameras in the room. You weren't allowed to film him – it was only ever the other camera staff who got to interview your boyfriend, and it hurt. It hurt and it pained you to see him put up with it so casually and easily, but it wasn't your place to say.

That was your excuse. This was Yoongi's life, Yoongi's career. You didn't see an area where your opinion was needed, or where your feelings could be taken into consideration at all.

So you let the topic drop. You didn't bring it up – you showed up to work with him every morning, let him go off to hair and make up or to greet the members, and you went to work with your camera, hoping to distract yourself. Like Yoongi with music, filmography had always been your outlet. Setting up the perfect shots and backgrounds for the number of interviews you were doing was always something that cleared your mind.

Today was no different. Yoongi had merely grazed his lips against your cheek before he was waving goodbye to go and get his hair and make up done for the interview line-up he had today – one of which, you were in charge of.

It didn't take long for you to walk into the production room, being greeted by your usual array of 'good mornings' and 'hellos' coming from every corner of the room. Eunji, the beloved girlfriend of Park Jimin, stood up and gave you one of her usual pecks on the cheek, before the two of you were stowing off to fix up your camera equipment.

“I saw you and Yoongi walking in this morning,” she commented when there was nothing else to talk about. You were unsure what it was with people and they're conversation starters, but it was always relationship speak that filled in a silence.

You shot her a glance over your shoulder as you dragged your camera from your bag. “As we do every morning.”

“Yes,” Eunji agreed. “But there was something about this morning that made me feel a little – I dunno.”

“Made you feel like you had to bring it up,” you suggested. Eunji frowned, your lack of filter leaving her unimpressed.

You sighed and shook your head as you kicked open your tripod, setting it up around the lights which you would soonn have to detangle in order to make the set look nice enough for the boys of Bangtan Sonyeondan.

“At least they're letting you film him today,” Eunji offered. “It's a step in the right direction. Soon, you two will be able to basically have sex in the middle of the town.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don't care about going public, Eunji. Remember when you and Jimin did it and those people added you to that group chat? Yeah. I don't want that.” You hollowed out your cheeks, silently praying that the conversation wouldn’t go on any longer than it had to. “I'm perfectly fine being the lonely, forgotten housewife.”

“You're not a housewife. You're smoking hot, and you need to be appreciated.”

“You and Heejin get enough appreciation that it basically melts onto me. You don't need to worry. My lack of attention doesn't hurt me.”

And it didn't. You didn't need the public eye to be on you for you to feel welcomed in a relationship – neither did Eunji or Heejin, but the two of them were just lucky enough to have it as an added bonus. They had started going out with Hoseok and Jimin long before BigHit got strict about relationships. They were already public, meaning nobody could take that back and BigHit didn't really care enough to make the effort.

It still hurt talking about it, though. Eunji and Heejin were both on the hair and make up team, meaning they were close to their boyfriends almost the entire day. You were tucked away behind a camera, not even allowed to give your boyfriend a second look.

You often thought you were overexaggerating, and the thoughts didn't die down as you prepared the set for the boys to finally enter and get ready for the interview you were due to film. You weren't speaking – god forbid somebody saw you conversing with Yoongi – but you were in charge of angles, making sure the boys looked good on camera through the entire interview. It was difficult working with somebody like Taehyung, who insisted on making ugly faces every three seconds in his attempts to make your job that little bit more difficult.

Eunji watched you closely, letting the subject of you and Yoongi drop. You were thankful for it – you weren't sure how long you could hold the rant off for, because there had been plenty of times where you had gone off and just started yelling about your troubles, how lonely you felt. That was one of the reasons you and Eunji were so close – you told her everything, whether she wanted you to or not.

An hour or so must have passed before the boys were finally entering into the room, greeting the interviewer in their usual kind manners. Hoseok came in yelling about how Jin had dropped a bag of powder that Heejin had to clean up and Jin followed after him, beetroot red even under the make up Heejin had just applied to his face. You shook your head at them, folding your arms as you leaned against the wall in the corner.

Always in the corner. Out of sight, out of risk of looking at Yoongi in that way you weren't supposed to.

“So loud,” you heard the familiar voice of Yoongi grunt from the door. Your eyes broke off to look at him, intaking his attractive looks in the quick way you had trained yourself to do so. One glance and you knew exactly what he was wearing, exactly what his make up was like, and exactly how much you wanted to pounce on him.

He wasn't exactly dressed up. This was a casual interview, after all. The interviewer, Jaehyun, was only dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, meaning Yoongi had matched up with the casual attire with a simple white jumper from Puma, jeans and his Puma trainers which had been kindly given to him as part of the ad campaign.

He still pulled it all off though. The way his black hair was styled to cover his forehead, the way his blue contact lenses made his eyes pop with the way the lights shone off of them. The way he smiled that gummy smile whilst messing with his microphone pack. The way he just radiated Yoongi in a way that reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place.

You inhaled sharply, half tempted to let somebody else do the directing for you. You weren't sure how long you could last being in the same room with Yoongi as he lied about having a relationship.

But you couldn't just walk out. Not without looking weak. Not without the risk of your job being lost because you 'couldn't handle the simple rules.' So you stayed, grinning as the boys took their seats in the order they had always sat in.

You kept your eyes off of Yoongi. He sat on the arm of the white sofa you had set up, the maknae sat beside him, cracking his usual jokes which had everybody laughing. You looked at them through the view finder of the camera, stifling your laughs with your hands.

The interview began all too soon for your liking. You felt the stress building up in your body as Jaehyun sat down and rattled off his questions one by one. You got to work, losing yourself in the camera angles and the way you zoomed in on their faces every one in a while, getting those shots which fans would screenshot and post with heart warming captions which always seemed to make smiles appear on your face.

The boys answered each question naturally, sounding like they had met Jaehyun years before the current interview. The way they passed jokes, the way Hobi sometimes hopped up to show us a random dance move, the way Taehyung did his own thing in the back ground – all of it is just Bangtan. It made you grin, chuckling quietly behind the face mask you were wearing.

But then talk of love life came up, just like it always did.

“So, enough games,” Jaehyun said, still calming down from the burst of laughter he had released after one of Jin's dad jokes. “Let's talk about love lives. I know some of you currently have girlfriends, and have had girlfriends for quite a while. Tell me, for them boys, is it difficult working your schedule around the intimate times? Like, can you two go for a date and just enjoy yourselves?”

Hoseok answered first, Heejin standing beside you with a small smile and a blush adorning her features. You gave her a comforting smile when her eyes met yours, though her gaze instantly dulled when she saw who she was standing next to. The Forbidden Girlfriend.

“I think it's only difficult if you let it become difficult,” Hoseok said. “I've been with my girlfriend for nearly two years now, and we've never really had issues with schedule's and stuff. She's a busy girl, just as much as I'm a busy man, but we always find time to wind down together and just ask about each other's day and how it all went. It's easy if you love them enough.”

Oh, God, no.

Jimin nodded along to Hoseok's reply. “I wish I could add something more, but that's really it. I don't want to go a day without talking to my girlfriend, so I don't. People tend to think we're, like, cramped in this bubble all the time, but it's really not true. We work hard to create the stuff we do, but we still have lives outside of the cameras and outside of Bangtan that we enjoy just as much as anything else. As Hoseok said, you'll make time for them if you love them enough.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or not. You had never once heard Jimin and Hoseok talk openly about love in the way they just had, and by the looks on everybodies faces, neither has anybody else. It made you feel wobbly, like you could throw up then and there. You avoided looking at Yoongi, pulling your face mask further up your cheeks as if doing so will hide your embarrassment, will hide the way your eyes were darting around the room, looking for any place bar the camera.

Any place bar his face.

Heejin reached a hand out, placed it lightly on your shoulder as Jimin continued to talk about love and dating and his love life like it was the air he breathed or the music he created. He talked about it so naturally, so easily, whilst Yoongi sat at the side of him, pretending you didn’t exist.

“I need fresh air,” you whispered. Heejin looked at you, raiseed one of her brows.

“You can't just leave. Nobody else knows how to get the camera angles like you do. Can you not just wait a minute?”

You bit your lip, turning back to the camera. “Fine.” You didn’t want to be there. It hurt. It was clenching against your chest like a weight, your cheeks flushing a bright red colour, because you knew Yoongi felt it to. He felt the weight of the words weighing down on him, too. He was just better at hiding it.

Jimin finisheed his speech about love, proudly sitting back and giving Eunji a sly smirk which you refused to catch on camera.

“That was sweet,” Jaehyun said, grinning. “And to the single boys; does your busy schedule ever do anything to your love life? Do you find it more difficult to find genuine girls now that you're massive, award winning stars?”

Namjoon replied first. “I mean, I think you can just kind of tell when somebody wants you for your money over your personality, you know? Being in this line of work, it definitely strengthens your senses to that side of things.”

Jin, Jungkook and Taehyung all agreed, giving their own little proposals of speech. And Yoongi stayed silent, because for once, you were in the room to hear all about it. You were standing right in front of him and he could barely look at you because he knew you wouldn’t have that happy smile that always adorned your face. You would be frowning, trying to hold back tears and pretending to be happy when he could see right through every fake emotion you had been putting on the entire interview.

Jaehyun nodded to the boys responses, before turning to Yoongi. “Yoongi-ssi? Any thoughts?”

Heejin squeezed your hand. “I think you can go and get that fresh air you-”

You shood your head, pulling your hand out of her grip and folding it over your chest. You stood up straight, focusing your gaze on Yoongi as much as you can, but he barely budged. It's the boys who looked at you with uncomfortable and sorry glances, whilst Yoongi simply shrugged to the question.

“It's as Namjoon said – I think it's simple to know what somebody wants from you when you meet them.”

“And what about your schedule? Does it give you less time to go looking for that other person?”

“I'm not really looking. I'm just not interested in dating at the moment.”

That was it. That was always the kicker, but the other times, you had at least been absent from the room before you had heard it. Now, you were looking him in the face as he completely dismissed the seven month long relationship you two had been in, and it hurt. It hurt more than you'd ever admit, hurt more than you'd ever believe, because god do you just want him to love you.

Those three words had never even passed between you two before. It was swift kisses, smiles, asking if you'd eaten or if you were okay – at least, it used to be. Now, it was just smiling to each other when you got home, having a laugh at breakfast before completely ignoring each other for the rest of the day.

Ignoring him was better than hearing him say those words, though, and the tears were building up in your throat before you could tell yourself that he's just protecting his job, doing what he does best.

You turned to Heejin, shake your head and walk out before anybody can see you cry. You tried to play it off as a bathroom break, but nobody would believe that. Not when you were the director of todays interview. It had taken weeks for you to finally persuade them to let you do this very job, and now you were just walking out like it was nothing more than your daily routine.

But everything hurt, and you couldn't take it any more. Something was swelling in your chest – something had been swelling in your chest for over three months now, and it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore it, let alone deal with it in the way everybody expected you to.

You stormed through hallways, ignoring staff members worried calls for you to slow down or you'll trip over something. You hopped over wires, trampled over cables and pictures and cameras. You just needed to be alone.

You crashed through the back doors of the studio, a gasp of air escaping your lips as you finally let yourself go. Crying over a boy in the back alley of a studio had never been something you wanted to do, but here you were – completely destroyed over a man who you weren't even sure loved you or not. He hadn't said anything – in fact, he seemed to be doing everything in his power to make you think he hated you.

And that wasn't what you wanted. It wasn't a relationship. It was toxic, and as you pulled your knees into your chest, ready to completely let go, you couldn’t help but realise that very fact. You had played right into the hands of the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. He had played with your heart, let you think he cared, but if he truly cared, he wouldn't have let you go so easily.

Right?

“If you love them enough...”

You would do anything for the person you loved, right? Maybe that very fact answered your question.

You slid down the wall of the studio, tears falling from your eyes as you bundled your hands in your jeans, tugging at the fabric. Anything to distract your mind from what was happening inside. Anything to let you get engulfed in your own world all over again – alone. With nobody to mess with your feelings, nobody to break your heart or make you feel like any less than what you were.

“Y/N-ah!”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head against the wall as the door to the back alley opened, revealing a flustered looking Min Yoongi. You hated yourself for a moment, your heart doing it's usual skipping a beat whenever you lay eyes on him. He didn’t look like his usual, monotone self. He looked flustered, red faced with his large hands bundled in front of him as his face slowly moulds into nerves upon seeing you curled up in a ball outside of the studio.

He knew what he had done.

You shook your head and looked away. “Please go back in there and do your job.”

Yoongi closed the door. “What are you doing out here? It's freezing.”

“I'm warm enough.”

“No, you're not. You left your jacket in there.” You didn’t get a chance to reply before he threw your dark red jacket onto your knees, he himself still hovering over you with his hands folded over his chest.

“Thanks,” you muttered, plucking the jacket off of your knees and setting it beside you. “You can go back in now. I'm not gonna freeze.”

Yoongi peaked an eyebrow, though he knew why you were acting like this. He knew why you were crying.

You heard him sigh before he sets himself down beside you, pulling his own knees into his chest. “I'd rather stay here, to be honest. Beside you.”

“What if somebody sees you?” Your voice drew out, clearly meant to tease him, though not in a good way.

“Then they see us,” he replied, so casually it makes you half-angry. “I prefer being with you, anyway.”

“You fooled me.”

“I wasn't hiding it.”

You narrowed your eyes, more tears slipping from them. You didn’t know how you were keeping yourself so calm with him so close to you, with his shoulder pressed against yours and his body heat moulding with your cold skin.

“I'm just not very good at showing affection,” Yoongi continued, looking out at the rubbish bins in front of the two of you. “I thought you knew that.”

“I'm not asking for you to get down on one knee and propose, Yoongi,” you sighed. “I'm just – I dunno. I'm not looking for anything, really. I know it's not your fault our relationship is like this, but it just hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Hearing the other guys talk about how they'd do anything for the person they love, no matter how hard it is to do that certain thing. Yoongi, you can't even look at me in public without getting in trouble. How – How can you just expect me to feel comfortable with that?”

Yoongi took a moment to reply, his mouth open slightly in that pout that used to playfully press kisses to every part of your body when you were upset. Those were the early days, though – days when you two could leave the house together and not be scolded for being 'irresponsible.'

“I didn't – Jesus. I didn't know you felt that way.”

You closed your eyes, finally ducking your head into your hands as the words fell from his mouth. “I didn't make it obvious?”

“You never look at me either, jagiya,” he insisted, and his voice became persistent, as if needing you to listen. “You went along with the rules, too, so I just thought it was all going to be okay. I thought you didn't mind.”

“Do you not mind?” you exclaimed, shooting your head up to look at him. So perfect, yet he looked so broken in this moment. His cheeks tinted red with the cold, his contacted eyes wide and his mouth hanging open a little bit.

“Of course I minded. You know I minded.”

“Do I know? Because for the past four months, I've genuinely thought you were just going to drop me one of these days. It would make the most sense, since we barely fucking talk any more! You look people dead in the eye and say you're single! Do you know how that feels?”

“I wasn't thinking. I thought we were strong enough to get through this.”

“This?” you barked, throwing yourself forward so you were standing above him. Tears were pouring down your face, heating your cheeks up as your hysterics began to heave at your chest, making soft sobs escape your mouth through the violent words leaving alongside them. “This isn't a relationship, Yoongi. This – This is toxic. It's hurting me, and I hope I mean enough to you that it hurts you, too.”

Yoongi nodded swiftly, standing up alongside you. “This speech doesn't sound good, Y/N-ah. What are you-”

You shook your head, shoving his outstretched hands away from you. “I don't want to lose you, Yoongi. I really, really don't, but being with you is making me lose myself. Making me lose my mind and I need to put myself first sometimes. I don't want to be in a relationship with somebody who isn't even allowed to leave the house with me.”

Yoongi blanked, looking down at you like you had just slapped him in the face. The look he gives you breaks your heart in so many ways, but you couldn’t back out of it now. You couldn’t just say “Actually, you're cute. Never mind,” because you knew your reasons for doing it, and if he cared about you, he would know them too. You weren't doing this to smite him – it was for yourself, and sometimes, that was the only reason a person needed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it soon after. You watched him as his eyes filled with subtle tears, his lip going between his teeth where he nibbled on the skin, clearly trying to fight off any sign of emotion.

“Ah, really” he whispered, ducking his head down and brushing his hand over the back of it. “I fucked up so badly. I didn't – I should have told them to go to hell with their policies, shouldn't I?”

“It's not your fault. I don't want this hurting your career.”

“It's not hurting my career.” His voice broke when he looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours for the longest time they had met since the policies were given to the two of you. “It's hurting my life. It's hurting you. It's hurting-” He inhaled, cold air filling his mouth before it came out in a cloud of fog. “It's hurting the girl I love and I can't let it happen any longer, okay?”

You went to reply, a heartfelt comment about how you two can still be friends playing on the end of your tongue, but it disappears amongst his word choice.

You nearly choked on the freezing cold air of winter as you realise what he had said. For the first time in seven months, he had used the word 'love' when speaking about you. For the first time in seven months, he was looking at you like you were his world, and it was making you warm up from both shock and happiness.

“What did you just say?” you questioned, unable to stop the words. Yoongi looked back at you, a look of dead seriousness on his face that makes your small smile drop, going back into the frown you had placed it in when you had run out here in the first place.

“Christ, you make me insane,” he grumbled. “I love you, okay? You. Y/L Y/N. Light of my life. My world. My girlfriend. Hell, I'll scream it from the god damn rooftops if that's what you want.”

Your eyes widened, but Yoongi didn’t stop. He stepped away from you, arms open wide as he looked up at the sky and started yelling: “Everyone! Y/L Y/N is my girlfriend, and I am the luckiest man alive!”

You yelped, diving for his arm and pulling him back to look at you, your eyes wide in shock. “Yoongi, sh! Bang PD's in there and he'll-”

“You're still worried about him?” Yoongi questioned. “I just confessed my undying love to you, and you're worried about PD-nim?”

“He's going to fire you.”

“He can.” Your jaw dropped. Yoongi simply smiled, gums and teeth and that cute little dimple in his chin showing all at once and it made your knees feel weak and your mind go foggy. “Jimin and Hoseok said it during the interview – if you love someone, you'll do anything to make time for them. If that means quitting-”

“Don't scare me like that,” you hissed, hitting his shoulder. Yoongi furrowed his brows. “You will not give up your dreams for me, Min Yoongi. I won't let you.”

“Then let me have one more chance.” You blanked, looking at him in shock all over again. He stepped closer to you, and you allowed him to take your hand in his, holding them close to his chest as he gently rubbed the backs of your palms, heating them up. “One more chance. I'll tell the world about us. I'll – I'll take you on a date. Tonight. Fuck what the company says. You need spoiled, because I have a lot to catch up on. And you can come to the studio, and you can film those stupid video diaries you film that I'm never in because they would look too cosy.”

He smiled down at you.

“I remember I used to watch you and Namjoon when you two would do that game where you catch the food in your mouth, and you'd film it for your video diaries. I would have killed to be the one doing that with you – absolutely killed, but I was too worried for your reputation and my own career to do it. So I just let you and Namjoon get on with it. I want to be in one, though. A romantic one. One that's cute and I'll kiss you on the cheek and hold you from behind and you can post that. If you really want people to know about us, you'll post it.”

You looked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribcage. You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth had run dry, the only thing you could hear being the thumping of your heart in your chest and Yoongi's skin rubbing against yours as he heats up your hands between his own.

“You have a camera in your bag, right?”

He let your hands fall, and before you could object, he's reached into your over-the-shoulder bag and has ripped your mini camera out of it's case, fumbling with it for a quick overview of the buttons. You coukd barely move, keeping your hands clasped as if it were Yoongi holding them together. There was an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach – nerves? Confusion? Mild guilt? You didn't want Yoongi to think that all you wanted was publicity, because it was very far from that. You would live in perfect harmony if not a single person but Yoongi knew your name – you just wanted Yoongi to be able to communicate with you in the way he used to.

Yoongi let out an 'Aha!' upon finally finding the record button, and he was quick to wrap an arm over your shoulder, holding the mini Canon recorder in the air above the two of you. You blushed, hiding your face with your hands as Yoongi pressed 'record' and started to speak.

“Hello everyone! This is Suga from BTS, and I'm highjacking Y/N's video diary today. I don't know the last time she did one of these, because I'm not in them. Not until now, any way.” He chuckled, looking at you. He frowned upon seeing your flustered state, quickly pulling your hands away from your face. You groaned, closing your eyes, turning around and burying your head in his chest in an attempt to hide your burning face.

Yoongi laughed again, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders. “She's apparently shy in her own video diaries. I think it's just because I'm here and she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. Have we not got something to tell them, Y/N?”

“Yoongi-”

“This woman right here, ladies and gentlemen,” Yoongi interrupted, laughing a little at his own exaggeration. “Is the love of my life, and I haven't told anybody that. Not even her, until just a few minutes ago. But now that I've said it, it kind of feels like I'll never stop saying it, so forgive me if I get repetitive. It's just – I've never really loved anyone. Not in a soulmate kind of way, so for a while I was kind of just scared of what I was feeling. Hence the reason I was a complete asshole and didn't tell you sooner.”

You grunted. Yoongi chuckled.

“She agrees.”

You looked up, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend. “Turn the camera off, you idiot. I forgive you. We'll sort this out.”

Yoongi grinned, bright and fresh faced and it made your heart beat speed up to a speed you were almost certain had put people into cardiac arrest before. “Why should I turn the camera off?”

“So I can kiss you.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I'd rather you do that whilst this is recording. Something to show the children.”

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sofreakinmanyfandoms · 6 years

Text

November 4 - Sir Could Use Some Help

This is late because I fell asleep stupid early yesterday while trying to take a nap and slept through my alarm until morning. Guess I needed that. I’m still posting today’s today as well, though.

Word count: 1982

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack, fluff-ish?

Pairing: Tony Stark X Reader-ish (nothing romantic) featuring the bots!

“Miss Y/N, I hate to interrupt, but Sir is in his lab and could use some help.”

Something about how JARVIS phrased the request caught your attention.

“Not help with something he’s working on, I take it?”

“No,” was all the AI said, and you were on your feet and rushing towards the stairs in an instant.

Pepper had hired you a year ago when she’d realized that running SI and managing Tony’s schedule were too much for one person. You had been far from the most qualified person on her list of applicants; you’d asked her once (when you’d become a bit more secure that the wrong question wouldn’t get you fired) why she’d chosen you. She told you that she’d known you could handle Tony, and you couldn’t fault her for making that a deciding factor.

You did handle him, very well in fact. Your younger brother had been similar to Tony in some ways, stubborn and very focused when he was doing what he enjoyed, and you’d developed several techniques for getting him to take breaks or do something he should do but didn’t want to. Those methods transferred over beautifully.

Right now the two of you were in Malibu. Tony had two conferences on the west coast and was using the break between them to work on the bugs in the latest version of his suit. It had been a bit of a vacation for you; while you still had things to keep track of, both of you had open schedules for the next three days. While you’d helped a couple of times with holding things when one of the bots got put in timeout (“Seriously, Tony, I know they’re your children but putting them in timeout can’t possibly be effective!”), you’d mostly been working your way through your long-neglected list of must-reads.

As you approached the lab, you looked around for Tony but couldn’t spot him. The bots were slightly back from the couch you’d insisted on adding so he could at least grab a quick nap between frantic bursts of creativity, so you angled that way when you entered.

There he was, curled up on the couch, tucked into as tight a ball he could make himself become and breathing heavily. Sweat was running down his face and his eyes were squinched so tightly you knew he’d be seeing spots when he opened them. You recognized the signs in an instant; Tony was having a panic attack.

“JARVIS,” you asked quietly, “is there some type of music that helps him calm down or relax?”

“Sir has never used music for that reason, Miss Y/N,” the AI replied.

At the mention of your name, Tony’s eyes shot open.

“Y/N? Why are you here?”

“Shh, Tony, it’s okay,” you said softly, slipping past the bots to kneel next to him. DUM-E beeped nervously behind you. “JARVIS called me. I’m here to help. JARVIS, please put on the Marconi Union album I have on my Spotify. Quietly, though.”

The soft strains of the opening of “Weightless” began to fill the background and Tony focused his gaze firmly on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’ll be fine, just give me a minute. You can go.”

“I could,” you told him, “but I’m not going to. Please look at me.”

He shook his head and you fought the urge to pull him into your arms until the trembling stopped.

“Okay, then, look around. I need you to tell me five things you see.”

“Really?” he scoffed, which would have been more effective if his voice didn’t break in the middle of the word. “You’re gonna talk me through some BS anxiety-management trope?”

“Would you rather tell me five things you see or have me call Pepper and tell her your anxiety is back? If you’re more comfortable with her I’m sure she’ll be happy to call.”

“You and your stupid manipulation tactics. I’ll be fine, just go away. I don’t want you here.”

That hurt, but you didn’t let your face show it. “I’m not leaving you alone, Tony. I’ve known you long enough to know that your brain doesn’t stop moving, which is good for inventing and bad for anxiety. You can let me talk you through this or you can let Pepper, but I’m not going to leave you to sit here and freak out the bots.”

Mentioning the bots drew his attention out of his head and back into the space around him. He looked over at where DUM-E, BUTTERFINGERS, and U were hovering, unsure what to do, and sighed.

“Fine. How many things?”

A little of the tension left your shoulders. “Five. Find five details. Walls don’t count. Neither do the bots.”

Tony gave you a shaky grin that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “You just have to make this hard, don’t you? Um, okay… There’s a wrench on the floor under my worktable.”

The bots took that as a cue to retrieve it, and rolled off in a race. U reached it first and beeped with pride when he brought it back. You took it from the eager bot and patted him on the arm.

“Thanks, but you guys don’t need to retrieve everything Tony mentions, okay?” They wilted a little at that, but you returned your attention to Tony, who had a slightly more authentic smile on his face now. “That’s good, Tony. What else do you see? Find four more details for me.”

His eyes roamed the lab. “There’s a grease spot over where I was working on my car yesterday… The light is reflecting off the helmet of my current prototype in a way that almost makes it look blue… My coffee is still on my main workbench…” He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “And there’s a bunch of cobwebs behind the lights. I should have the cleaning people take care of that.”

You smiled. “You can do that later. Okay, find four things you can touch.”

Tony slowly unwrapped one arm from around his legs and reached out to run it along the back of the couch. He looked at you for approval and you nodded.

“Good, Tony, you can feel the grain of the leather in the couch. What else can you touch around you?”

He shifted a little to grab at the blanket that was lying bunched up on the opposite end of the couch and just missed it. You leaned over and caught it, bringing it back to him, and he grasped it from your hands, pulling it in close.

“That’s right, you can feel the soft fuzz of the blanket. What else?”

Tony’s eyes shot to the wrench you were still holding and you passed it to him, watching as he ran his fingers over the smooth metal before gripping it in his hand.

“Jarvis – the original human Jarvis – got me this in a full tool kit when I was five,” he said softly. “My mom thought getting me real tools was crazy, but my dad waved off her concern, said I’d be fine. I used it when building my first engine.” DUM-E beeped, and Tony looked up at him. “I used it on all the bots, too, mostly on the casings; their interiors required finer tools.”

“I’m glad you have those memories,” you told him. “Can you find one more thing you can touch?”

His eyes shot to yours before slowly moving up to your hair. Before you could react, his fingers were in it, petting your head.

“So soft,” he teased, the light actually reaching his eyes this time. You made a note of the fact he wasn’t shaking anymore.

“It better be,” you joked back. “I spend too much time on it for it not to be. How about three things you can hear?”

“That awful music you have JARVIS playing,” Tony grimaced. “Why do you have this, anyway?”

“Don’t you dare mock this album,” you shot back, not actually mad but pouting anyway. “It’s the only song that’s been clinically proven to reduce anxiety. I can’t remember where I read that, but I downloaded it right after. It helps me fall asleep.”

“Of course it does. That’s because it’s boring.” You were about to remind him he still had two other sounds to find when he continued, “The air conditioning just kicked on. I can hear that.”

“Good,” you nodded. “One more sound.”

“DUM-E?”

At the mention of his name, the bot perked up and beeped. Tony shot you a grin.

“I just heard DUM-E.”

“Cheater,” you accused, glad he was relaxing. The banter was coming without effort now, and he was relaxing across the couch rather than being curled up on it. “Almost done. Two things you can smell.”

“Motor oil and your perfume. It smells like incense and sandalwood. I like it; it suites you.”

Based on his smirk, you didn’t quite succeed in hiding the surprise that flashed across your face, but you recovered quickly.

“Thanks. Pepper bought it for me for my birthday. She has good taste.”

“That she does,” he agreed. “And speaking of taste…”

You put your hand over his mouth as he tried to lean in and flashed a smirk back. “U, please go get Tony his coffee.”

“You’re no fun,” the genius laughed, leaning back into the couch and taking the coffee when the bot brought it to him. He took a sip and grimaced. “That’s way colder than I thought it would be. How long have I been down here?”

A glance at your phone gave a frame of reference for the question. “It’s been twelve hours since I last dragged you out of here for some sleep. I guess that depends on how long you waited before sneaking back down here or if you actually got some sleep.”

“Don’t sleep so well,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s easier to work.”

“Yeah, well easier isn’t always better, and you know that. You wouldn’t have made most of your inventions if you didn’t.” You braced yourself on the armrest of the couch and stood up, wincing at the pain in your knees from spending so long on the hard floor. “Now that you seem to be doing better, I’ll head back to my book.”

“Sure. I need to get back to my work anyway.” Tony shoved himself off the couch and rubbed the back of his neck. A slow smirk worked its way back across his face. “If you want me to find one more thing to taste, we could always kiss.”

“I’ll see you in two hours with food, Tony,” you called over your shoulder as you exited.

The genius smiled at your back as you retreated before turning back to his worktable. With a brief flash of irritation, he realized he was humming along with the music.

“JARVIS, why did you call Y/N here? I’ve survived those just fine on my own.”

“Yes, you usually handle them so well,” the AI replied dryly. “It has been my observation, Sir, that Y/N is quite adept at dealing with her own panic attacks. I assumed the skill could transfer to helping another person easily enough.”

Tony stilled his movements. “Y/N has panic attacks?”

“A few times a week.”

“I never knew.”

The AI sounded disapproving, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or at you. “She is very good at covering when they happen and excuses herself from the room as quickly as possible. I wouldn’t know myself if I couldn’t read her vitals.”

Tony thought for a moment before going back to his work. He’d pay better attention to you, he decided. Next time you suddenly left a room, he was going to have to check with you. Maybe he’d get a chance to return the favor.

#30 days of avengers one-shots #tony stark #tony stark x reader #reader #x reader #reader insert #anxiety #panic attack #panic attacks #bots #help #mental health #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging #iron man

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