#suffice to say there's a lot of things going on in this city that most people- humans and variants alike are none the wiser about.

[deva-arts]

Testing out CSP Assets hehehe

The city can be pretty beautiful with enough distance and a nice view.

Oh. I forgot what kind of story this was.

She ends up short circuiting the main terminals and letting it crash into a processing facility. Then she takes a stress nap and worsens her insomnia.

[endcant]

save a bastion for queer culture in a famously hateful city

i’ll try to write a shorter and sweeter post about this later, but for now i will just beg at length.

there is a town near me called Murfreesboro where at various points they have banned or attempted to ban public homosexuality, drag, and pride flags. for a time their county’s youth incarceration rate was 48% (contrasted with the rest of the state at 5%) due to corruption in their local courts system. every juvenile case that made it to the wrong judge resulted in the child being sent to jail, because the county commissioner thought it’d be “cool” if the jail was a “profit center” (yes these are his actual words). these are just a few examples but suffice it to say, this is a very difficult place to grow up, especially for LGBT kids.

despite all of this difficulty, the area has a remarkable alternative music scene with a few small venues where queer people and young people who don’t fit in elsewhere can genuinely have fun and feel safe for the night. despite the city’s reputation, queer people in the broader area flock to the town for raves and DIY shows. in this area, music culture is intertwined with queer culture and leftist efforts to a much greater degree than i’m used to as somebody from the middle of california.

i really admire the venues and event organizers that cultivate a safe spaces like this in a place where it is decidedly unsafe for queer people, and where the youth are constantly in danger of having their lives ruined for totally arbitrary reasons.

this is why it breaks my heart that murfreesboro is trying to shut down a venue called The Graveyard Gallery. the graveyard gallery is a place where a ton of events are constantly held for lgbt, furry, and alternative communities. it is one of very few alternative places in the broader nashville area where i have felt really, truly safe and welcome as a person of color.

most recently, The Graveyard Gallery has come under attack for attempting to hold a Trans Day of Visibility punk show, with the apt title “Trans Day of Vengeance”. Conservative media, both local and national, directed the attention of their audiences towards this event, calling it “tone deaf” to have it on easter, and to have it sort-of-kind-of-close-to-but-not-quite-on the anniversary of the shooting in nashville. All of this, of course, ignoring that the date for TDoV was set in 2009, and that this was a small DIY punk show that really bore no threat to anybody. the show had to be canceled because of credible death threats, so it didn’t even happen, but that hasn’t appeased anybody.

in the wake of this, murfreesboro’s fire marshal has suddenly decided that the building is not acceptable for occupancy and it has to close immediately and for the forseeable future. people can claim it’s unrelated, but i’ve known people to have their businesses suddenly declined by fire marshals due to sheer bigotry before, and shitty towns will just use their fire marshal to bankrupt small business owners that they don’t like. i do not speak for the owners of the gallery on this front, but i personally believe that these things are related.

all this is to say, the graveyard gallery needs to raise money for their legal fees over this matter. this venue is very important to a lot of people, and may be even more important now that the city’s music scene is in the crosshairs of massive conservative media companies.

if you can donate please do, and if you can share this, please do that as well.

thank you for taking the time to read my post. i know there’s a lot going on in the world, but music venues are where people here gather, and music venues are often also a place where people organize to make meaningful change and promote causes that i know most of you would approve of. music is at the heart of this community, and the venues are where the music lives.

[theconstantsidekick]

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (9) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst city babyyyy

Summary: Zemo has a revelation in store for the Stark siblings, and suffice it to say neither of them takes very kindly to being betrayed by someone they had once trusted with their life.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Canon Typical Violence, Accident?

a/n: My writing speed is that of a fucking turtle.

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (8) | Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (10) | Series Masterlist | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself,” she hears Tony’s voice ring out somewhere ahead.

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” she can hear Steve’s desperation for truce in his response. 

Y/n can glitch in right now. She’s at the end of the corridor, a couple of steps and she’ll be with them. But not yet. She’s desperate for there to be a solid sign of the truce. She isn’t sure she can watch her brother and the man she loves with her body and soul fight any more. It’s been tearing her apart. 

The truce—even a temporary one—is all she can hope for. And apparently good things come to those who wait.

“It's good to see you, Tony.” Steve adds finally.

“You too, Cap.” Tony responds. A smile breaks out on her face. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop the…” she hears Tony say and she knows that is the right moment.

Sergeant Barnes lowers his weapon and the moment he does, she miscalculates by an inch and glitches in just behind him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The progression of Sergeant Barnes’ gun changes instantly. It’s aimed at her within the second. The response time on the man is beyond absurd. She’d go as far as to say it’s impressive if she weren’t, you know? Whatever, you get it.

Her hands fly up. “Easy there, Sergeant!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony asks from where he’s standing down the stairs, in front of Steve.

Slowly, with her hands still up, she descends down the stairs to stand between the two most important men in her life. “What the fuck does that even mean? You thought I was going to leave you two alone after the shit you’ve been pulling in the last 72 hours?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve adds, with a hint of hope in his words. If she were looking his way, she’s sure she could spot the curve of his lips forming the most subtle smile. She absolutely loves seeing that smile… but she doesn’t really wanna look his way, in the general direction of the man right behind Steve.

“I wish I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a gun pointed at me,” she retorts, eyes straight ahead, staring at the slimy gray walls of the HYDRA facility.

“Are you—” Tony takes a step closer to her, “Are you trying not to make eye-contact with Barnes?”

Her hands are still up as she’s facing Tony, “Yeah, no. I’m trying not to even look in his general direction. I’m still pretty scared of him.” She turns to the Sergeant but her eyes are locked on a spot on the floor that seems particularly interesting right now. “I’m extremely sorry, Sergeant Barnes, I mean no offense by this,” she looks to Steve, “but can you please make him put the gun down, it’s really not helping.”

“Bucky,” is all Steve has to say and instantly the gun’s down. It’s like whatever trance the Sergeant was in has broken. .

“I really am sorry,” she tries to tell him, looking vaguely in his direction. “It’s purely instinctual. It’ll fade… eventually. But for now…”

“I—” Sergeant Barnes tries but she cuts him off.

“We’ll talk about this, but not here and definitely not now.” Sergeant Barnes just nods slowly. Satisfied, she looks back at her brother and her boyfriend, “Let’s focus on stopping Zemo for now, rest we can figure out when time comes.”

With that sorted, all four of them begin making their way slowly down the corridor.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony comments.

“How many?” Steve asks.

“Uh, one,” Tony offers after a moment of consideration.

That makes Y/n halt her steps. Something’s off. She can feel something off. There’s a presence she can’t put her finger on. Not Zemo. Something else.

“What’s wrong?” Sergeant Barnes asks her.

She thinks it over for a second and then, “Nothing.”

As they walk into the vast chamber the lights come on. There are capsules in front of them, attached to the wall each one containing an enhanced soldier from the 1991 experiments. Hazy, yellow mist descends within the capsules. However, the bullet holes on the glass enclosures is what scares the shit out of her.

“They’re… They’re dead,” Y/n notes.

There’s a short crackle and a voice sounds out from the speakers. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” It’s Zemo. Her eyes fly from Tony to Steve who seem to be having the same realization. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

“What the hell?” Sergeant Barnes questions under her breath.

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” Zemo appears in a control room.

Before Y/n can warn him against it, Steve hurls his shield at him but it ricochets easily against the chamber and comes flying back to Steve. 

“Please, Captain,” Zemo’s voice is laced with a smirk. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorts, walking closer.

“Oh, I’m sure you could Mr. Stark… Given time,” Zemo taunts. “But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questions Zemo from across the glass window of the chamber.

Zemo, fucking, smirks.

It should terrify her, and to some extent it does. But there’s something in his eyes, something so familiar to her that she can’t believe she’s seeing it reflected back. She’s seen that look in her own eyes in the mirror for decades.

It’s fire. It’s fire and it’s rage and it’s as personal as it can get.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized… there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes,” Zemo notes, and fuck if that doesn’t creep the shit out of her. “How nice to find a flaw.”

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve notes. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No.” Zemo dismisses the assessment so easily, so carelessly, it’s making all the damn alarm bells go off in her system. “I'm here because I made a promise.”

Steve studies Zemo for a second and then,, “You lost someone?” 

His eyes darken.

Y/n knows that feeling, this feeling. She knows it through and through.

Zemo clicks his tongue, then, “I lose everyone. And so will you.” He presses something on the console to his right. Instantly the computer on Steve’s right lights up. Something flashes on screen, Y/n can’t help herself, getting more curious by every passing word of the conversation, she walks over to Steve, to the computer. 

16 Декабрь 1991

She… she’s not sure how to…

What’s happening?

This isn’t—this isn’t…

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead…” Zemo’s words are dangerous.

“Anthony,” is all that Y/n can choke out. It’s probably her tone, and the use of his full name that brings Tony rushing over to her side.

She reaches for his hand. Instinctually, Tony disassembles his armor from his hand so he can hold hers.

When Tony looks at the freeze frame of a secluded road and the date on the tape, December 16 1991, his eyes rove with anxiety. “I know that road. What is this?”

As the tape begins to play, the horror unfolds in front of her eyes. She watches unable to breathe with an iron grip on the Iron Man. 

She watches the car crash, she watches Howard Stark plead only to be shocked at the face of his assailant. She watches as her bloodied-up best friend, the person who saved her, the person who gave her a home—the person who gave her a family—is struck in the head with a metal arm. She watches on as Howard’s body slumps, falling to the ground lifelessly. His corpse is then dragged back and placed in the driver’s seat of the car.

Then the assailant moves on to the next target, the collateral damage, Maria. He walks over to the passenger seat of the car where Maria is calling for Howard. She watches Maria plead for help but help doesn’t arrive. Instead, expressionless, the assailant chokes the life out of her. Maria Stark dies. The kindest woman she’s ever known in her life is drained of her life and left like trash at the corner of an unnamed road.

The Winter Soldier then walks up and aims the gun at the surveillance camera and shoots it.

The screen goes black.

Y/n had some semblance of an idea that perhaps yes, Howard and Maria Stark’s death wasn’t an ordinary accident. She’d desperately begged Peggy to look into it, with Thompson and Souza. They had and gave it the all clear.

But in this moment, she thinks—she realizes, perhaps she always knew the truth and was too afraid to look into it. Because if not then, why didn’t she investigate it herself? Back then she’d given herself the excuse that Tony needed her more than the investigation. She’d told herself that she’d be too biased to conduct a sound inquiry. Her feelings would’ve gotten the entire thing too muddled up and messy. She told herself it was the smarter thing to maintain distance. 

That was all horseshit.

She was a scared little kid on the streets of Madripoor once again. She’d lost her family and was walking around without a place to call home and the thought of having to fight HYDRA on top of that would’ve been too much. She’d looked the other way, let things slide, let the murder of her only family slide on account of being a fucking pussy.

And now, she has to confront the truth.

“Did you know?” Tony asks Steve somewhere behind her.

She can’t take her eyes off the now black screen.

“I didn’t know it was him,” Steve answers.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?” 

There’s silence for a few seconds, a long, long few seconds, and then, “Yes.”

That—now that makes Y/n turn.

She only catches Steve’s eyes for a second, before Tony’s punching Steve and reengaging the Iron Man helmet. 

More things happen, the fight’s broken out, she’s sure more shit goes down but something just pricked her in the back of her neck and she’s feeling a little dizzy. Everything feels… so fucking heavy. 

Y/n can still hear the commotion from the fight between the men but it seems distant.

“My apologies, Miss Stark, you imbalance the scales too much,” Zemo’s voice rings out on the speaker. “You’ll be back in the game in just a little while.”

“You ever plan on opening your eyes, sleeping beauty?

“What have you got against my happiness, you cruel, cruel man?”

“I’m not the one who wanted to do this, remember?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?” She dragged herself out of the passenger seat of the car. Stretching to unfold her joints, she shoved the man next to her just for the fun of it. 

“I’ve got a list of ‘em under my bed, you want to be the latest addition?” He threw back with a smile. Say what you will about the man, but no one can ever deny that Howard Stark had a killed smile. 

“Smart ass,” she chided him without much heat.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new,” he retorted, hand waved in dismissal. “You ever gonna tell me why we’re here? As far as I recall, I was promised the best bachelor party known to mankind.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t promise jackshit, dickwad. I told you we were going to Atlantic City, the rest you made up all in your head, all by your lonesome.”

“What’s a man supposed to think when his best friend tells him that the bachelor party road trip is going to be to Atlantic City?” He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

They were leaning on their broken down car, parked on the beach—parked, however would be a generous term. They’d pushed it off the highway onto the beach as a makeshift camp site. The sun was setting ahead of them, slowly being swallowed up by the waves. The wind blew in their faces, as the cars passed by behind them. It made the shit-show of a road trip seem almost worth it… if you didn’t include their car breaking down in the middle and having to push it for a couple miles. Yeah, pretty worth it apart from that one slight glitch.

“I’m your best friend?” She asked, absolutely confused.

Howard just looked at her once before breaking out in maniac laughter. “What sorta question is that?”

“A genuine one,” she told him, serious as ever. “Howie, you serious? I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, Stark! Obviously you’re my best friend, who else?” He replied, still laughing his ass off. 

“Any fucking body, man. Even Jarvis seems like a more likely option than… me,” she answered.

“That’s some horse shit, Stark and you know it! We live together, we work together, we shit together, eat together. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone’s face as much as I’ve seen yours in the last couple years. You’ve got my last name, damn it. Who the fuck else would be my best friend?” He was looking at her then, genuinely concerned. He seemed like she was asking him if the moon truly revolved around the Earth.

“I… I thought all that—all that’s shit you have to live through cause Peggy dumped me on you,” she provided meekly.

That apparently irked him some. “You think I do all that shit with you cause of Peggy?” He asked. 

She nodded in a simple reply.

That apparently was not the right move. 

He threw the cigarette to the ground, quite angry now, “Why the fuck would I? I’m not a saint and you know it. I never have been. You could count all my good deeds on one hand and all of them had a selfish reason behind it.” He began to pace.

“What was the reason behind this one?”

He looked at her, eyes wide in astonished fury. “The reason behind letting you into my life was that you are by far the only person who understands me. You are the only person I have ever met who’s never asked me to mold myself into something I’m not, while simultaneously encouraging me to be better. You’ve been in my corner, without hesitation and you’ve ripped me a new one when I’ve been wrong. You, Stark, are the only person I’ve ever met who is able to make me believe I am a good man, and understand that I can be better!” He seemed like he was about to blow a gasket. “People see me, see an ass and let me be. You are probably the only person who looks at me and sees the complexities, the entire picture of me as a man. No one gets me, Stark, not even me… Not like you do. 

“At the end of the day, sharing a beer with you, working on cars with you, bitching about S.H.I.E.L.D. with you, that shit keeps me sane. Part of me’s so fucking glad you quit, cause now you’re not gone for days on end for stupid fucking missions. Cause then I get to sit with you and chat about absolutely nothing.” He was still pacing. “You really thought I did all that out of the goodness of my heart? You think I gave you my name cause Peggy asked me to?”

She nodded again, which again was apparently not the right call.

“FUCK, Stark! If I were such a giver I would’ve joined the fucking Red Cross! I gave you my name cause you are my family, damn it!”

“Oh.”

“Oh?!” He raged, not pacing anymore. Facing her, he asked, “That’s all you got?”

She thought for a second, looked over at the man who was standing in front of her, wearing a t-shirt and jeans like any normal dude. The last time she saw the man without a suit and tie was a long time ago, he looked much less of a dick this way. 

“We came here for, i don’t know, for something like a… a last hurrah. I found a place downtown. That and—” she was cut off.

“What?” Howard Stark looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. 

“I found a place downtown,” she told him. “Gimme a week or so, I’ll be out before the wedding.”

“What?”

She hesitated, “I’d be out sooner but I don’t really own… furniture?”

“WHAT?”

She didn’t know how to respond to this line of questioning anymore. “What do you mean what?”

“Is this about what happened? If you’re mad at me, which you have every right to be, let’s fight it out. Punch me if you want, Stark. I’ll take it!” He looked so desperate, it threw her for a spin.

“No! No, this isn’t about that,” she told him, because it’s not.

“Then why else would you talk about moving out?” He didn’t let her answer. He took a couple steps towards her. He fumbled with his words, going back and forth before he looked at her and said, “Look, I understand what I did… I wa—I was way out of line. But I am truly sorry, Stark. I promise you, it will never happen again. I… My head wasn’t in the right place. I thought if I found something—no I don’t know. I thought I could help. You were struggling with controlling your powers, so I thought maybe I could find something to help you with it. I thought I’d tell you if I found something, and if I didn’t then… Then no harm done, right?” He seemed beyond desperate.

“It’s not about that, Howie.”

“Come on! I know you’re pissed at me! Just say it!”

She walked past him, with her back to him and her face to the ocean ahead, she replied, “I am not pissed at you, Howie…”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

She exhaled deeply. “I’m hurt, not pissed.”

“Is that why you want to move out?” He asked, his voice small.

She turned to him then, “What? No! You’re my best friend, dickwad. I ain’t ditching you cause you did something profoundly stupid?” 

“I’m your best friend?” Howard asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, asshat.”

He took a step towards her. “No, seriously. I thought, after what I pulled…”

“You were an ass, yes. It was a breach of trust and like I said, I am… I’m pretty hurt… But that’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

“Then?”

“You’re getting married, man. I can’t keep crashing on your couch once your wife’s around,” she explained. “How is she gonna feel?”

“Elated,” he answered easily. Before she could argue, continued, “I think Maria is more excited about sharing the place with you than me. Something about you being a better cook or whatever.” He leaned on the car again, pulling out a fresh cigarette, he lit it.

“Oh so it’ll be you, your wife and the freeloader on the couch? One big happy family?” She was frankly really confused about the entire arrangement.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ve never bought groceries a day in my life, and yet the fridge is always stocked. You’re the farthest thing from a freeloader, Stark. And besides, I’m not as big a dumbass as you think I am, you know? I’m not gonna make her move into my room that shares a wall with yours.”

“Then?” She asked, motioning him to pass the cigarette to her. She took a drag.

“I live in a mansion, you idiot. We’ll move into the master-bedroom, like God fucking intended I’ll turn my old room into my lab, which let’s be honest is already my lab, and we’ll be fine and dandy!” He took the offered cigarette from her hand and took a drag himself.

“Oh…”

“You really didn’t think I had a plan?” He asked with the smirk audible in his words.

She shook her head, “I thought moving out would be the kinder, smarter thing to do.”

“How?”

“I’d be done burdening you and it’d be less humiliating than you finding me a place as a way of politely telling me to fuck off,” she offered.

He looked at her again, “If after all these years you don’t already know that place is your home, then I have been doing something seriously wrong.” 

Somewhere behind them, up the hill on the road, a car was parked as the two passengers were yelling out their names from inside it. It was Jarvis and Maria, calling out to them. She and Howard had called them asking for help once they knew their car couldn’t be saved even with the joint acumen of both friends. 

They both turned at their names being yelled out. Looking back at the site of Maria waving at them, Howard’s head fell. “I really have been doing it wrong, haven’t I?”

She motioned for both of them to park the car and join them on the beach before turning to Howard. “You’ve been doing just fine.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you about the experiments,” he stood up straighter. “If you want to move out because of all that shit, I understand. I’ll get you a place in New York, not too close but not too far either. And you don’t gotta worry about any furniture or any of that shit. I’ll get it sorted.” He turned over to Jarvis and Maria who were walking down the hill to them. “Hey Jarvis, what was the name of my realtor?” He shouted.

She punched him on the shoulder, hard.

“OWW! What was that for?”

“For betraying my trust and conducting experiments on my blood without my consent,” she told him, his face sobered instantly. So she punched him again.

“FUCK ME! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

“Thinking I cared for you so little that betraying me would change the fact that you’re my best friend.”

“What in God’s name are the two of you doing?” Maria asked as she and Jarvis finally came to stand in front of them.

“Oh I was just about to ask Stark if I can punch for thinking you and I were going to kick her out,” Howard told Maria while looking at her with a smirk.

“You’re welcome to try.” She told him.

But Maria intervened, “What kind of nonsense is that? Why the hell would you move out?” Her tone is so stern it throws her off. “You’re family.”

And just like that, it was settled.

Y/n was a Stark.

When she wakes up, all she can hear is Steve’s voice ringing in her ears.

‘Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?’

‘Yes’

Her eyes couldn’t focus. Try as she might, her head is too heavy for her vision to be anything but blurry. Everything’s too heavy. She tries to stand, but the weight of her bones seem so foreign, she can barely flip herself onto her stomach.

But then, she hears something. The sound of a metal clashing into metal.

And a yelp. Tony’s yelp.

That’s a war cry. 

With whatever little strength she can muster up, she pushes herself off the ground. Stumbling across the hall, struggling to make her way through the  broken pieces of concrete, she gets to the end of the corridor, to the sight of her brother, on his knees, being tag teamed by Sergeant Barnes and Steve Rogers.

Suffice it, all hell breaks loose.

Her armor is up within the second.

Instantly she glitches in front of Tony, between the two super soldiers. Punching Barnes in the throat, her focus lands on Steve.

“Y/n,” Steve tries, stumbling back.

“Steve,” she speaks evenly, as she takes a step towards him.

“Y/n, he didn’t know,” his words are haphazard, confused. He keeps stepping back, trying to put distance between himself and her.

She’s not going to let him go that easily. “Uh-huh.”

“HYDRA had brainwashed him,” Steve says.

Her fists clench. 

“You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

And that—well, he shouldn’t have said that.

The first punch she throws lands straight on his jaw. She even hears it crack.

“Y/n,” he tries again, stumbling back.

“Talking part’s over, Rogers.” The second hit lands directly to his gut. He falls to his knees, she grabs his collar, dragging him upright, she hits him, and then hits him again, and again. As she’s going for another hit, a metal arm wraps around her wrist—halting her in the process.

Turning she faces Barnes. Knees him in the side, waits for him to recoil, for the hurt and lands a gorgeous uppercut. She grabs him by his shirt to keep him from falling. Pulling him back, she knees his other side, elbows him right to the face, once, twice, thrice before he blocks her.

He tries to land a hit to her side but she dodges easily. He’s using his right arm, instead of the metal one. It’s Barnes fighting her right now, not The Winter Soldier. She aims a kick to his temple but is blocked by Steve before she can land it. He pulls her by her leg, ready to throw her to the other side of the room only to get her off Barnes. He thinks she’s targeting him, that Barnes is her focus, the main subject of her anger.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Mid motion of Steve yanking her off, she glitches out of his hand easily. She glitches in, less than a second later, only a couple steps ahead of him.

He yelps, shaking off his hand. The contact of his hand on her leg sent a bolt of electricity through his hand. She’s brimming with so much power right now, she’s kind of impressed with him still standing. He eyes her. She can see a confusion of determination and.. Fear.

It makes her a little cocky.

With a clenched jaw and a slight tilt of her head, she challenges both men to do their worst.

Steve attacks her from the left side, while Barnes takes her on from the right. It’s hubris at its best. Steve Rogers is holding back because he believes he’s stronger, he believes he might hurt her. Sergeant Barnes is afraid to even have the fight, he’s only fighting to protect his best friend. But otherwise, he’s ridden with guilt—guilt of killing Howard and Maria, guilt of all the people he killed when he was brainwashed by HYDRA, the guilt of torturing her relentlessly under HYDRA’s mind control. Barnes is fighting with his heart, not his head.

Both men have made the crucial and substantial error of pissing her off.

She reads their attacks easily, dodging most and letting Barnes hit Steve by just moving out of the way or using Steve’s momentum to land a punch on Barnes. Their fight pattern is old and boring, just like them. Barnes manages to land a hit to her leg, she gives it back to him two folds by wrapping her thighs around his throat and throwing him through the ground. Steve on the other hand barely manages to land a hit to her gut.

“Ugh!” She yells out, and the man halts instantly.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, more out of habit than anything else.

Fucking idiot, she thinks, before kicking him straight in the chest. He stumbles back and falls on his ass. Furious at his naivete, he’s back on his feat instantly. With Barnes in toe, they jump back in on her.

But she sees them coming a mile away every single time—that’s the curse of fighting with your heart. It makes you predictable… if you know the person you’re up against.

There’s a hold, Steve’s shield against her punches, while the other hand’s occupied dodging attacks from Barnes. Steve looks at her then, right in the eyes before speaking between her punches, “Never thought you’d use it against me when I taught it to you.”

Belatedly, and only once the words leave Steve’s mouth does she realize that the move was his, he taught it to her on a sweet summery evening. They were covered in sweat and it felt sweeter than sin when one thing led to another and he’d tackled her to the ground for a completely different purpose altogether. She can practically feel her blood run cold.

The irony is, she would look back on this moment later and realise, that right now she’s doing the same fucking thing as the boys—fighting with her heart, with all the fire that’s burning inside of that small fragile little organ that her head doesn’t have a fucking chance against it. And unfortunately she doesn’t realize it until she makes the mistake of ignoring Barnes’ left arm. The metal arm.

Barnes lands blow right to her chest, the force of his super strength along with the metal fucking arm courtesy of HYDRA, sends her flying across the room. Her head hits the wall before she falls to the ground.

Her consciousness comes and goes, but she can swear she can hear Tony cursing at what she presumes are the offending party, Barnes and Rogers. But she can’t be too sure, the world seems to be slipping from her, like sand through her fingers.

“I know you always do, but I’ll say it just for my peace of mind—look out for Tony, will you?” Maria asked with such trepidation that one would think she genuinely was afraid the answer could ever possibly be anything except yes… AS IF. 

But Y/n just nodded.

Maria nodded as well and then looking back she placed a kiss on Tony’s cheek.  

“We’ll back by Monday morning,” Howard informed her, a little hesitant.

“Enjoy the fucking Bahamas,” Y/n had replied with a substantial amount of bitterness. She never appreciated it when they—more pointedly Howard—left Tony behind, so the bitterness came quite easily. And somehow it became the last thing she ever said to the two people who (along with Tony) constituted her entire family.

Her eyes open because of the sheer brightness of it. Her concussed brain cannot fathom what could possibly be radiating so much light. Until her eyes focus, then she sees it. Tony’s blast against Steve’s shield.

It breaks her heart. 

Then they’re fighting again. Steve’s falling heavy on Tony. With emotions running so high, she’s sure Tony’s not quite focused on his training. He’s probably relying on F.R.I.D.A.Y. to examine his fight patterns. She wants to help, but her head feels heavy, like there’s a leak in it. Stretching a hand with all her might, she touches the offending leak on the back of her head and apparently it really is a leak, because when she brings her hand back in front of her, it’s covered in red.

She looks around for Barnes then, suddenly very worried for Tony’s safety. She can’t protect him from both of them if she’s injured. But when she spots him lying on the ground, left shoulder armless and in ruins, all her fear fades away and she’s only left with pity.

When she looks back at Tony, he’s turned the tides. Steve’s on the floor on his knees in front of him.

“He's my friend,” she hears Steve say in between heavy breaths. But even on his feet with Tony looming over him, Steve Rogers sounds nothing but determined.

“So was I,” Tony replies… heartbroken.

Tony punches him again, then again and then throws him off to the side. “Stay down. Final warning,” he warns, blasters pointed at Steve.

Steve struggles to his feet, his face bloody and his gate weary. He raises his fists and stares Tony down, “I can do this all day.”

Iron man raises his left palm ready to fire. Bucky grabs his leg and Tony spins, kicking him in the face. Steve grabs Iron Man and lifts him over his head, then throws him down, punches him and bashes his mask off with his shield before striking down hard on the suit's core.Tony looks horrified and glowers fearfully at Steve who pants for breath. Both have blood spattered across their faces. Steve looks back at Tony then shuts his eyes and slumps down.

Later, much much later she’ll realize Steve had slammed the shield onto the arc reactor at the center of Tony’s suit on purpose. She doesn’t know that right now. Right now it’s too late, she sees red.

Slowly and then all at once the ground begins to shake. All three men are confused for a second until it clicks, for Barnes before either of her two favorite men in her life. Barnes is the one who looks to her for an explanation for what could very easily be a natural calamity. The other two follow eventually.

“Y/n,” Steve tries.

But like she’s already pointed out, it’s too fucking late. She’s radiating power, too much of it. Only when the men begin covering their eyes does she realize she’s radiating light, too much of it. She’s on her feet, levitating, inches above the ground.

“Doll,” Steve tries again. He shouldn’t have.

Her hands clench and the building begins shaking.

Steve takes a few steps towards her, with something akin to love in his eyes perhaps but she doesn’t much care for it now. “Doll, you gotta hear me out.”

“No…” she thinks aloud, “No I don’t.” She lets her hands go free, there’s a wave of energy that explodes from her, it's bright and it’s pink and it’s pure unadulterated power. The walls begin to crack, pieces of the structure begin to fall and all she can do is relish the horror in Steve’s eyes as the realization of her strength dawns on him.

The sky above them becomes more visible as the building and its miscellaneous parts fall away, and the sky is a soft shade of pink. She’s moving each and every part of their surroundings, even the clouds. They’re rubbing against each other, thunder crackling above them. There’s heat in her power, just as much as there is inside her. She’s burning with it, she wants to burn Steve with it as well.

How fucking dare he raise that shield against Tony? Against Howard’s son? After everything he did for Steve? After everything Tony did for Steve? After everything she did for him… after all her love?

How fucking dare he?

Her armor is up in a second and she hits the ground. Before Steve can even comprehend what’s happening, she manifests her blade, before he can register it, she’s shoving away Barnes who had stepped in to protect his best friend, before he can even react, her blade is glowing bright and pink inches from his eyes, already at his throat.

“Y/n,” Tony calls out, and his voice is the only thing between her and the death of Captain America at her hands.

It takes everything in her to not give in, to not slide her blade a little further, it’s already cutting in, drawing a drop of blood. She watches it trickle down onto his uniform. It breaks her heart, it breaks her apart. She loved this man, she loves this man, body and soul. She is his, even now. She doesn’t know how to not be his. She doesn’t know how to stop loving him, she is not sure she wants to, even now. But this is the cost of betrayal.

Barnes tries to step in, but he’s quite broken already. Moreover, he’s not her sinner. She glitches away with Steve only a couple steps away. Barnes is about to try again when she presses the blade further in, only by a millimeter but it draws more blood and Barnes backs down immediately. He looks to Tony, hopelessly.

“Y/n,” Tony begins. “Let him go.” His voice is broken and strained as it takes everything in him to get back on his feet. 

“Why?” She challenges. She’s raging, there’s so much inside her, so much brimming just under her skin, she’s electrified by it. The ground beneath her feet is shaking well enough that it’s cracking. They should be running, all of them should be running. Outside they can hear the structure crumbling to the ground, pieces of the building are falling all around them too.

“Because you love him, Y/n,” he tells her easily. There is no urgency in his voice, there is no fear either. He’s not worried about getting buried under the rubble, he’s not particularly worried about Steve either, she thinks. He’s speaking as if he’s just stating a fact, and a fact it is. “You love him so damn much.”

“So?” She watches Steve wince at her response, which wouldn’t throw her off all that much but he hadn’t even flinched when she’d first placed the blade against his throat. 

“So?” Tony throws back, his voice rumbling alongside the thundering clouds. It’ll begin raining any second now. “So it’ll kill you to kill him.”

“He deserves it,” she tells Tony, because he fucking does.

“I know,” Tony acquiesce. “But you don’t. It’ll break you, Y/n. And I can’t… I can’t lose you too….”

She knows he’s right. If she kills him right here, right now, and she could, she really fucking could, Tony would lose her because she well and truly loves this man more than she needs air to breathe. Because with every one of her responses she watches his heart break and while it felt like vengeance, her heart is aching knowing that she caused it.

What the fuck does that even mean? She wants him to hurt, like he’s hurt her but causing him pain hurts her more than it harms him so what even is the fucking point?

What in the fuck is the motherfucking point?

“Fuck!” She curses. 

She looks at Tony, covered in wounds and blood, who, just like her, is raging with anger only kept at bay out of reverence for her. He shakes his head. 

“FUCK!” She yells out, another wave of power pulsing out of her, breaking the entire foundation of the building at once. And then swiftly, she pushes Steve away and rushes over to her brother, shouldering his weight. 

Behind her, she hears Steve take a step towards her, but is stopped in his tracks when an entire staircase falls in front of him, blocking his path. It’s for the best. “Get out,” Tony tells him. “Get the fuck out of our lives, Rogers.” She doesn’t turn to look at Steve’s face at his words. She doesn’t want to know. 

Steve begins leaving, helping Barnes up and shouldering his weight. 

There’s rubble falling all around them when Tony calls out one last time. “That shield doesn't belong to you. My father made that shield!”

“You don't deserve it,” she says it only as a whisper but she knows he can hear it clear as day. 

Steve stops, raises his chin, then drops the shield and walks away with Bucky's arm around his shoulder.

Before the entire thing can collapse on their heads, Y/n glitches Tony and herself outside, near his jet.

It begins raining. It’s not supposed to rain this time of year in Siberia, but with the amount of energy Y/n has let escape into the sky, the clouds had very little say on the matter.

They sit there on the snow, under the rain and watch as the building crumbles to the ground. It’s a fucking mess. 

It’s silent but the animosity in the air is clear.

She knows he hates her right now and she can’t blame him all that much to be honest.

“You should have let me kill him,” she tells him.

Tony scoffs. “You should have let me kill Barnes.”

“Wasn’t his fucking fault he was brainwashed. He probably didn’t even remember till Zemo showed him the fucking tape. But Steve… he knew, and he lied to us.”

“You got great taste in men.”

Her jaw clenched, “You should have let me kill him then.”

“What would be the point?”

She doesn’t know the answer. But the terse tone of his voice is proof enough that a part of him blames her for it too. And well, he should. She could’ve done so much more about it all but instead she chose to fall for the man who lied to them about the death of their family. Of course he hates her. She hates herself.

Her phone chimes. Reluctantly she checks it. “Fuck,” she curses.

“Let me guess, in another 5 minutes I’m about to get a text from dear old Theadore about how he’s on his way ready to rain down hellfire?” Tony questions, clearly rhetorically. When she doesn’t respond, Tony clenches his jaw and says, “Get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

“Tony,” she tries.

“Get out of here, Y/n!” Is all he says as he gets up and begins making his way inside his jet.

She stands there for a second, soaking in the rain, letting the snow beneath her feet burn her cold. And then she glitches away.

Read the next part here, Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

tag list: @aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @roxannejblack @liketearsintherainn @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoria-svt @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @iamspeed16  @ashpeace888 @hopeofwinter @percabethfangirl987 @lilfuturescars @hailqueenconquer

tag list is important now more than ever, i post but very scarcely, please let me know if you want to be on it.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Favorite headcanon for every ghoul! Go!

Let's see... This got long, so below the cut they go.

-Aether has a battle jacket with patches and pins from different cities the band has played in, and a couple handmade ones from the other ghouls.

It has been left behind and lost multiple times, but always winds up back home with him when tour is over.

Now that Aether isn't touring anymore, it hangs in his closet, and he only really takes it out when he's feeling nostalgic.

-Dew is a morning person.

He likes getting up before everyone else so he has time to himself, really helps him prepare for the day.

He only really sleeps in when he's sick or the weather is bad.

-Swiss grew up on the surface, so he's the most "humanlike" out of the ghouls, which may also be because his dad is human, but who can say.

I don't know why I decided this a while back, but he's from Florida.

-Rain has the most extensive wardrobe out of all of the ghouls, and tends to gift people clothes, shoes, and accessories.

Anything he hasn't worn for a while either gets given to someone else to wear or donated to charity shops, but if it was a gift he'll hold onto it until it's too worn out to wear anymore.

-Mountain has been married before, but he doesn't like talking about it, so suffice to say the relationship did not end well... (actually wrote a fic about that).

-Cumulus is just as bad as Dew when it comes to talking about her feelings, but she masks them with polite smiles and jokes, so nobody really notices until it becomes too obvious to ignore.

-Cirrus has a lot of weird t-shirts she wears around, like the "Husband of a Hot, SEXY, Smart Gemini Woman who likes METAL and Wine" kind.

She wears them with cargo shorts and crocs sometimes and it makes Rain wanna die a little.

-Sunshine can and will eat the flowers she is given.

Unless they're store bought, in which case she checks with Mountain to see if there's any, like, chemicals and shit mixed in with their water or on the petals... THEN she eats them.

-Aurora likes making things with beads, and has made, like, a dozen of those beaded lizards.

-Aeon/Phantom is in his slime making phase, and keeps using up all the craft glue to make new mixes, because he likes the squish.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

ThePandaRedd Appreciation Post: Bill and Ted

This is me screaming into the void that I think my two favorite characters in the comic scene are Ted and Bill from the Pandaverse (the comics universe created by ThePandaRedd's tiktok skits). I freaking love these two because they are hilarious and I gotta say it somewhere.

Consider this a ThePandaRedd appreciation post.

Bill is a very long running Pandaverse character and is a professional henchman in Gotham City. He has been henching long enough to see the formation of the goonion, have batman steal so many of his bones that they're kept ground up in a jar, see the rise and graduation of every robin, batgirl, or other, and become so tired that he can backtalk his most consistent employer---the Joker.

Bill is a jaded henchman, mostly in the job because it's the easiest way to get money in Gotham, and because he's kinda in too deep to quit now. He's one of the best advertisers the goonion has, strongly discourages other people from henching in Gotham, and has so many residual medical issues from getting brutally beaten up by the batfam that he just doesn't care anymore. While he is regularly employed by the Joker, he has also been seen working for the likes of Penguin, Black Mask, and Bane, presumably when the Joker is in Arkham. Most other characters treat him with some instinctive respect for having stayed in the Gotham henching game this long, and he could absolutely go toe to toe with Superman if not just easily secure some Kryptonite and whoop his ass. Fortunately for Superman, Bill sticks to the Gotham scene.

Ted, meanwhile, is a relatively new character, and he has recently moved to Gotham from Coast City (where the Green Lantern lives). Suffice it to say, he is not aware of all of Gotham's idiosyncrasies and is still learning the wheel. If Bill the henchman is to be believed, Ted dropped out of the high school they both attended and may or may not have moved to Gotham for ease of employment.

One of his first appearances was when he'd just joined the GCPD and was trying to covertly get some info on the villain scene by asking Bill about how to start a career in henching. While Bill did not discover that Ted was working for the GCPD, he also gave away pretty much no valuable information since he instead launched into a rant about why anybody would be so suicidal as to try to START henching in Gotham City. His most recent appearance has him presumably out of a job again and noting some of his findings about Gotham as a Coast City Transplant (batburger's overrated, gang territories are gerrymandered, Robins are scarier than Batman, you'll be gifted with a water filter a gas mask and a gun upon moving houses if you send advance notice, etc.)

So, why are these two gag characters from a comic book tik-tok creator my favorite comic book/comic adjacent characters? Because they do exactly what they are designed to and narrow in on the every day.

Comic Books are a sci-fi/fantasy genre that focus on impossible stuff happening, frequently at a pretty grand scale. And while it is super cool to read or hear about stuff like Batman and his adoption problem or Superman being a basically god while still being the most human ray of sunshine ever, that's not even close to my favorite stuff.

No, my favorite type of media to consume is the kind where we get a peek into the everyday of someone in a vastly different circumstance from ours, and feel just how normal they are. I find a lot of comfort and humor in recognizing that even in very unfamiliar circumstances, there will still be simple, everyday things that persist.

Bill might be a goon in a city with some of the most insane and terrifying vigilantes ever, working for some of the most insane and terrifying villains ever, and the city is explicitly a commentary on the general shittiness of urban environments like New York, but that's not what he cares about most of the time. Instead he's busy explaining why you shouldn't smoke to his fellow goons, or dealing with the fact that his employer won't keep a reliable schedule, or having a crisis that he regularly has to run away from a 12 year old dressed like a traffic light or else die trying, or trying to convince people to mask up during quarantine, or promoting that fellow goons "do bad shit safely." And I like to think that if I somehow ended up as an evil goon in someplace as nonsensical and dramatic as Gotham City, I might respond similar to Bill after a while. And that level of normalcy and sanity persisting in such a fantastical environment is both very funny and very comforting. Human nature will persist.

Ted is similar. Everybody who has experienced moving cities knows that it can be disorienting and confusing and even a little scary as you try to figure out how things work, but you'll figure it out regardless and probably have a fun(ish) time doing so. Ted shows that the same principle applies even when those differences get cranked up to 11 and include superpowered and/or impossibly determined and crazy people. He makes my own experience moving cities where I joke and complain about the differences feel validated and it's just so funny to see someone react so normally to such an abnormal situation.

Ted's experience is something that can actually he applied to my own life, like when I learned about Rural vs. Urban stupid zoning laws or trying fry sauce after moving to the mountain west and having to defend my stance that it is an abomination. So seeing someone like yourself doing the EXACT same thing in such an insane circumstance both strikes a chord of truth and makes me laugh myself to the floor.

I also really appreciate that the PandaVerse in general has connected lore for what is basically a gag series used to affectionately parody comics. Something about people actually caring about their jokes enough to make connected lore makes me so so happy.

So thank you ThePandaRedd for creating Ted and Bill, continuing along with them, and making me smile.

Seriously, all this was to say that ThePandaRedd is cool, you should go watch his stuff, and that Bill and Ted are hilarious.

[witchy-rook]

Please ramble more about the Treacle Mine revolution!

Thank you for asking! I'd be happy to!

But before I start, just for your convenience and anyone else's, I'm gonna link my answers to the two previous questions I got because it's become somewhat difficult to find them. Anyway, as always: spoilers ahead for Discworld generally but the Guards series in particular!

Now then, the Treacle Mine Revolution...What a revolution! Pratchett has a phenomenal capacity to capture what Revolutions actually feel like and how they progress, at least in my experience reading historical sources about them. Although I have no doubt that, to a certain extent, Pratchett is drawing on British history for much of the foundations of Ankh-Morpork's own history, with some Classical elements thrown in there for good measure, I think from the point of view of the city's Revolutionary History, we need look no further than the most famous (and infamous) of revolutionary lands: Revolutionary France.

Specifically, if you look at the history of Ankh-Morpork's various revolutions, I think you see a sort pastiche (if you will) for France's own myriad revolutions. There's a lot more going on in these books than a simple ripping of French history (nor is French history even the only history they're ripping!), but I think it's worth diving into the real-world comparisions clearly at play here.

Let's roll back to Feet of Clay for a second. In this book, we learn a lot about Vimes' lineage, and specifically the baggage he has inherited from 'Old Stoneface' Vimes. We learn that Old Stoneface was involved heavily in the revolution which ended the line of Ankh-Morpork's kings (certain present members of the Guards perhaps notwithstanding), and not only that, but Old Stoneface was the man that swung the axe that killed the King.

Now, I don't think it would be too much of a reach to compare this to the first French Revolution: the one of 1789 and the eventual beheading of Kings. Granted, the French Revolution is by no means the only time that Kings were beheaded, but I think it's notable for our Ankh-Morpork comparision because it was one of the first times that was done to put a kind of democratic system in place. I'd argue that the Patrician seems like more an oligarch than a president or prime minister, but I think this is also because, amongst its many influences, Ankh-Morpork and its neighbouring cities on the Sto plains are clearly vibing off the medieval Italian city states. Hell, one is even called Genua.

Anyway, with that context in mind, let's fast forward back to Night Watch. The thing you'll need to bear in mind about the first French Revolution (and the reason I brought it up at all), is that its status as a 'Triumph of the People!' and a victory for 'universal liberty' etc etc is actually quite disputed. You have to remember that, initially, all the Revolution did when they stormed the Bastille and what not is, essentially, apply a Constitution to the King - now this was still pretty avant-garde by the standards of European politics, but the British already had a Constitution, so it wasn't exactly wholly novel. Things moved in an increasingly republican direction in subsequent years, capping off in 1793 with the literal capping off of King Louis, but the legacy of the French Revolution was always rather up for debate, especially given that it ended with Napoleon, a self-styled Emperor. So if you're wondering why France saw countless revolutions thereafter, it was because, from a republican/radical perspective, it was a project that had never really 'properly' finished. Whether France should be a republic or a kingdom was something that was up for debate constantly throughout the 19th century.

Enter: the Paris Commune. I don't have the time or, frankly, the qualifications, to dive fully into the Paris Commune, because it's a little outside my time period, but suffice it to say that this event is part of the long legacy of French revolutionary politics stretching back to the first Revolution and, to some extent, the birthplace of modern socialism. As I mentioned in one of my other posts, it's probably the thing you think of when you imagine an urban revolution at all. Barricades along the streets with flags and banners flying? The Paris Commune wasn't the only one to do that, but it sure was one of the most famous.

And I think the parallels with the Treacle Mine Road Republic are very stark (I bet you thought this was just another historical tanget!) We only get a patchwork knowledge of what happened during the Treacle Mine Revolution the first time around, mainly from Vimes' attempts to pre-empt what he remembers from the history, but that's enough to build a pretty clear picture. We know that the Revolution started in response to rioting and military massacres elsewhere in the city; we know that the People barricaded Treacle Mine Road and its adjacent streets to protect themselves; we know that the military attempted both a kind of siege and an attack on the barricades; we know there was a kind of sense of community amongst those inside the barricades.

To me, this reads like a very clear analogue for events in Paris during the Commune. Granted, the reasons for the Commune were different, and the real Paris Commune last over 2 months, but the kind of 'city within a city' that is depicted in Night Watch did happen, and while I'm sure the Paris Commune is not the only example of this, it's a pretty damn good analogue.

And again, what's most interesting to me about the Treacle Mine Revolution, as I alluded to in my other post, is that, much like the Paris Commune, it was a failure. It was not the actions of the revolutionaries that led to change in Ankh-Morpork, it was the actions of political conspirators and hired assassins. But despite this, the revolution is clearly important in the minds of at least some Ankh-Morporkians, even if it's mainly just those who were involved. Perhaps some of them, like their own real-world counterparts, consider this a project that has still not 'properly' finished? Nonetheless, this sense of importance is true of many political events in our world, the Paris Commune among them: they may have been failures, but that doesn't mean they weren't significant.

So! To wrap up with some kind of conclusion, I think the Guards series frequently touches on the idea of historical legacies, but Night Watch is especially interesting because, through Vimes, we get to live through the formation of that legacy. And, if you were ever interested in reading more about this kind of thing, I'd highly recommend you look no further than France and its colourful, revolutionary history!

[eddieschains]

You are dating Joe and he’s used to seeing you dressed comfortably. You aren’t terribly feminine in how you dress (not a complete tomboy).

He invites you to accompany him to an event for the first time and he sees you all dolled up.

He can’t take it and you are late for the event. 😏

i love this prompt so much thank you for sending it !! i hope i did it justice 🤞🏽

this also turned out so much longer than i thought it would oops

We're Gonna Be Late

TW: fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

You were never the kind of girl to get dolled up every morning. You weren’t really into dresses and skirts, and you rarely did your makeup or styled your hair outside of its natural state. But, it was one of the things Joe loved most about you. You were unapologetically yourself and didn’t try too hard to impress anyone, him included.

Joe had obviously been having a lot of success in his career lately, which meant a lot of appearances and events to attend. You didn’t really attend any because they were a bit out of your comfort zone, and a lot of times in different cities and even different countries. He always invited you, of course, but you turned them down telling him you wanted the focus to be on him and him only.

But, this time was a little different. His team was hosting a ‘congratulations’ event if you will, just a little party to celebrate all the success he’s had over the past year. He invited his friends and family, and you of course. You were a bit hesitant at first, but after days of begging, you agreed. Since it wasn’t a hugely publicized event, and it was all people you and him knew, you decided to accept his invitation. The only problem was the dress code: black tie.

Your closet wasn’t in possession of anything that would be considered black tie apparel, so you had to go shopping. You hated shopping. But, you would do anything for Joe, and if that meant a couple hours of suffering through racks of clothes and musty dressing rooms, you would do it.

You finally found a dress that you thought would suffice. It was a floor length gown, dark red adorned with glitter. It had two skinny sleeves that hung on your shoulders, low cut, but not too low to be trashy, and a slit that reached the middle of your thigh.

It was the night of the party and while Joe went to run and grab some last minute items, you stayed home and got yourself ready. You had just finished putting your curled hair into a half up ponytail when you heard the door open.

“Babe! I’m back.” You hear his voice from across the house. You run out into the living room, wearing only your fluffy robe and some slippers. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him down for a soft kiss.

“Missed you.” You tell him, arms still draped around his neck.

“I was gone for 30 minutes.” He chuckles.

“30 minutes too long.” You place another kiss to his soft lips.

“Your hair looks nice. I like the curls.” He says, running his fingers through the ends. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and start getting ready.” He gives you a small peck on the lips before moving past you and into the bathroom.

Returning to your bedroom, you start applying your makeup, something you haven’t done in probably a year. You don’t do too much, just some eyeliner with a gold shimmer eyeshadow in the inner corner, and a bold red lip matching the color of your dress.

You pair it with some small gold hoop earrings, falling just barley past your earlobes, and a thin diamond necklace Joe had bought you for your birthday last year. Grabbing the new dress from its bag, you slip it over your body. As much as wearing things like this make you feel a bit uncomfortable, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t enjoying it for the time being.

You tried to close the back zipper on the dress but couldn’t get it all the way. You put your head against the bathroom door, not hearing the water running anymore signaling Joe was done with his shower.

“Babe,” You knock on the door, “i can’t zip my dress, can you help me really quick?” The door opens to show your boyfriend standing frozen, as if he had just seen a ghost.

You’re waving your hands in front of his face, “Hello? Earth to Joseph.”

“My god…” He finally speaks. “You look fucking incredible.” He reaches his hands out to place on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“Thank you baby, but we need to get going soon and i can’t get this zipper all the way up.” You respond as you turn around so he can fix the dress for you.

He places one hand on your shoulder as the other grabs the zipper. He starts zipping it up slowly until you feel him zip it back down as quickly as he could without injuring the dress.

“What are you doing?” You turn your head with a look of annoyance on your face, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“I’m sorry i can’t do this right now, i need to fuck you.” He responds as he shoves the dress down your shoulders, and off of your body.

He turns you around, placing his mouth on your bare chest, kissing and sucking with as much fervor as he could muster.

“Babe, we’re gonna be late.” Your voice is breathy, being taken over by the pleasure he’s giving you.

“It’s my party, we can be fashionably late. Either we’re late or im walking around with a boner all night. Your choice.” He responds, continuing to adorn your body with rough kisses.

“Okay fine. But you need to make it quick, and don’t mess up my hair and makeup.” He slips his middle finger in between your folds, rubbing up and down gathering your slick onto his finger.

“I’ll be careful baby.” He continues moving up and down before pushing into your entrance, gaining a soft moan from you.

His finger is moving in and out of you as he’s sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. Once he thinks you’ve warmed up enough, he adds another finger, making you grab him by the shoulder to keep you from falling over in pleasure.

His fingers are moving in and out of you at a painfully, but pleasurable, fast pace. His head is buried into your chest, attacking your tits with his mouth, as your nails are digging into the back of his shoulders as the vibrations from his own moans add more pleasure to your nipples.

You don’t have enough time to warn him before your walls are closing around his fingers. “Fuck fuck fuck babe it’s too much. Feels too good.” He pulls his fingers from your aching cunt, shoving them into his own mouth.

“Okay my turn. Jump.” He looks at you, placing his hands on your ass to lift you to wrap your legs around his waist. He was still naked when you knocked on the bathroom door, not even a towel wrapped around him, which definitely turned out to be useful in these turn of events.

You could feel his hard length taking place in between your lips as he pulled all of your hair to one side of your neck, before slamming you up against the wall.

Your legs tighten around him, using his body as stability to help keep you upright. He slides his cock up and down your pussy, getting it lubed up with your own orgasm. He grabs it by the base and taps it a few times on your clit. You wince, still sensitive from the finger fucking he gave you less than a minute ago.

He slowly pushes inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before bottoming out. “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much, im so glad you’re coming tonight.” He laughs, realizing the innuendo of what he just said.

He buries his head into your neck, thrusting in and out of you at light speed. The way he’s hitting all the right spots every time he pushes back in is throwing you over the edge once again.

“m’ not gonna last long. You’re so fucking sexy look at what you do to me baby.” His movements start to slow down, using more force than speed, which was always a sign he was close.

His hand comes in between both of your bodies, rubbing fast circles on your clit while he continues pushing in and out of you. You reach your second orgasm of the night, clenching your walls around his cock. The tightness of your pussy is enough for him to be sent over the edge, shooting hot ropes of his cum inside of you.

He pulls out, and you whimper at the loss of contact. He puts your feet back on the ground, places a kiss on your lips and goes to clean himself up in the bathroom. You follow him to do the same.

“Well now we’re definitely going to be late.” You playfully push his shoulders back, and slipping back into your dress. You turn your back to him so he can zip your dress for you, successfully this time.

You pull his suit out from the closet handing it to him, helping him smooth out the arms and fluff the collar of his shirt. “You know, this suit looks really good on you. If we weren’t already running late i might have to rip it off of you.” He smirks at you.

“Keep talking like that and we won’t even make it to this damn party.”

[bawnjourno]

without further ado... Sparks Austin recap

I won’t elaborate but the two days of travel to get here were very exhausting and trying. I rolled up to the venue, prepared to maybe sit during some songs and nurse a Diet Coke. 

I had never been to Austin before and boy, is it a music oriented city. Not just the venues but the people, the culture. There were multiple fans in Hippo tour shirts, a fully cosplayed Cate Blanchett, and lots of women in beautiful dresses. The Moody Center’s hallway had snapshots of all the cool people that had played there. I love venues with history!

I was worried that the venue set up would be annoying or awkward but I got to my front row seat and I was 4 feet from the stage, just off to the left of Ron’s piano - the perfect view.

The show started... a lot of U.S. venues had audiences who mostly sat and then got up during MTCYDT but the two thirty something hipster dudes behind me stood the whole time so I got to stand and dance :) And a good chunk of the crowd on the left stayed standing too! I was drenched with sweat maybe 4 songs in and it was amazing. All my tiredness and stress melted away as I was loudly singing and dancing.

This crowd was electric, so loud and responsive and to the Latte cuts too! Not just the hits! People were going crazy for TGICIHL in a way that Milwaukee was more subdued about. Russell smiled at me really big early in the show, probably because I knew the words and was loud and enthusiastic. I got a cute SMWS Russell tummy jump video which I will post later.

During  Nothing Is As Good As They Say It Is, I obviously knew the way Russell sashayed and waved his arm back and forth during the chorus from other shows and was mimicking him. He locked eyes with me and we did the hand punctuating thing at each other during that TWICE.

I am a “woo”er I will freely admit that and so I am constantly obnoxiously screaming and clapping and just being super loud. So I obviously was screaming my head off when Ron got up for Shopping Mall Of Love. During the second chorus he looked DIRECTLY at me and went “yeah ✊” I will post video later but I was shakinggggggg.

There were lots of loud applause breaks and late-ish in the show (can’t remember when), Ron looked directly at me again and mouthed “thank you”. Like no thank YOUUUUUUUU KING!

I know Russell bounces around a lot on stage, HOWEVER, the way this stage was set up, it was probably a bit harder to get to our side of the stage, but he came over a lot anyway and I have to think it was partially because of me because he seemed to almost be finding excuses to come dance with us even when he was about to have to start singing again 🤗

Eli dancing and feeling the music was so slay I love that short king jfdgkjrfkjg

I’m not sure how or why Russell would ever EVER feel self conscious about his tummy.... I was lucky to get it captured during SMWS... during MTYCTD though he danced over and it was too fast for me to get filmed but I basically was 4 feet from the man and watched his tummy bounce out from under his t-shirt for a good 5-7 seconds... mesmerized is the most polite way to put how I felt in that moment but oh my fucking god 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 [redacted] [censored] [an oncoming train whistle obscures what i’m about to say] but suffice it to say [meme voice] I think I hauve covid...

And the open collar and sweat obviously..... yeah.

As I divulged to a few of you and was encouraged by @jefffreybeaumont, the plan was to make a sign that says “YOU’RE MUCH HOTTER THAN THE GALLAGHER BROTHERS” because in interviews they’re always being asked how they don’t fight like the Gallaghers or the Davies. The secret spice was typing it out in Barbie font. I somehow managed to not get it wrinkled in my over 1000 mile 2 day voyage and held it up during the shuffle. I don’t think Russell could read it because he was farther away but during the shuffle I held it up. It was hard to tell Ron’s reaction because I was multitasking but I watched later and sent it to @rhythmthlef and she says his face showed “bemused self effacement” fdkjgkldjsfkg. 

Something I’d stupidly personally worried about for ages was that Ron and Russell didn’t care about the U.S. as much - the U.K. has always embraced them and I’d worried that they didn’t think of these shows as special or meaningful because radio stations here don’t give them the time of day and they don’t always sell out. Since Chicago, I don’t worry about that anymore. Their faces shine with excitement, pride, and pure joy at EVERY SHOW. They’ve gotten more fans since TSB and opportunities that they wouldn’t have gotten ten years ago, even in the U.S. I mean, NPR Tiny Desk! Wow. Russell was emphasizing that the feelings of the shows “don’t go away when we go to the next city” and I could tell that he really meant it. 

Eli came out for the encore in the bucket hat and a red Southern style bandana - very cute. The man who took the photo handed Russell his cowboy hat beforehand and Russell says, “Oh yeah, my hat.” He then proceeds to put it on, smirk confidently at the audience, and say, “What’s up, yall? You from these parts?”WHAT IS WRONG W HIMMMMMMMM GFHJDKJGFKLDSJFKDS CALIFORNIA DOOFUS!!! And I fought for my life squeezing into the pic but I’m in there! Right behind the keyboard!

The pic is taken and I know my chance is now. I start screaming for Ron (who was a bit closer to me) but he doesn’t hear me. I then start screaming at the top of my lungs “RUSSELL!!! I HAVE A LETTER!! RUSSELL!!” and after about 7 times he hears and sees me and meanders over and takes the letter and 2 rainbow Sparks logo acrylic pins (the ones I sold to some of yall a couple months ago)! I’m not sure if they’ll wear the pins but I had to try. I do hope they read the letter - they really do mean everything to me. I was unsure that I’d get their attention at all, so I didn’t get the moment I handed it on film, but I do have a video of Russell holding and then glancing down at the letter. They were leaving the stage and Russell stopped to hold hands with multiple people on his way offstage.

I stood there for a minute, very emotional, then made my way out. As I left, a security guard off to the side went “Hey, you sang all night man, that was great.” and I just replied “They’re my favorite band, you’ve gotta be passionate, y’know, thanks!” Even non fans know I’m a real one kgcjkgjfdkjgfd.

My Lyft driver was super sweet and chatty and I rode back to my hotel feeling like I was floating on a cloud.

Random sidenotes: A) They cut “Toughest Girl In Town” which I didn’t realize til later - I’m sure they’re getting tired near the end of the tour B) Eli is truly such a talented guitarist? He slayed the Bon Voyage solo. He was right in front of me so I really got to see him shine (in my brief moments not zeroed in on Ron and Russell) but obviously the whole band is amazing C) I sent Alissa snaps of me during Beaver O’Lindy and they said “You’re almost singing louder than Russell is” kdgfjkdjkg D) This was the one time I didn’t cry during It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way because I was sweating so much that [Lucille Bluth voice] I couldn’t spare the moisture E) I will share a few videos but I swear my singing is horrendous and embarrassing so just the key moments jfdgjfi F) I used almost 10GB of memory on photos and videos...

The plan is to get a Sparks tattoo within the year. I’ve gotta do it. They are so special to me. I’ve been into bands before and I don’t regret any of it but this feels different and special. This truly feels like where I belong as a fan and a person and as someone who has always felt strange and awkward and out of place. But there’s one place and one song and that’s Sparks.

SparksTour forever ✨

[flimflamfandom]

Another Long Running OC - Meet Ludwig Ungerer!

Don't worry - ARTHUR ISN'T DISAPPEARING! But Arthur, while cool and also rad, isn't the only typa guy I wanna write about!

Normally when I write about OCs they're either Arthur Keane or they die within minutes of their introduction. I wanted to break that pattern a little bit, though, and see what I could do with a SECOND guy running around!

Is he like Arthur? Soft spoken, simple tradesman with a heart of gold and looks to match?

no.

This new guy is a very serious composer. In the 20s.

BACKGROUND

Ludwig Maria Ungerer was born in Alsace on December 7th, 1904. He was the youngest of 6, and was raised by a family of church musicians and organ tuners.

Suffice to say, much like Arthur Keane, music was with him at an early age - but not with strings.

Quickly becoming somewhat of a virtuoso when it came to keyboard instruments, Ludwig eventually started to attend schools specifically meant for music. When his family came to America around his 12th birthday, he started studying with the finest musicians in the city, and even spending time in New York. His family wasn't well off - this cost a lot of money.

His siblings resent him for this.

PRESENT DAY

Ludwig currently attends the same college as Ivy, and is obtaining his masters in composition. He has become very interested in serialism, but has always leaned more towards impressionism and post-tonal styles in his work - think a mixture of Vaughan Williams and Mahler, with little Webern-esque experiments on the side. He even experiments some with Indeterminate music - hear that John Cage? He sorta beat you to it! (But not really)

To make ends meet, he works as a copyist during the day and a part time conductor - he has a knack for running rehearsals. He also helps with charts for the band at the Daisy. He's friends with Ivy and owes her the favor.

He lives in a small apartment owned by Bapka. He's in there often - you can hear piano, scribbling, and German swear words leaking from it most days.

HOW'S THE FELLA LOOK?

Ludwig is a German Rex, with the same fur color as Ivy. He's tall, lanky, and has big, beady green eyes. He looks like something out of an expressionist film. He has a deep, quiet voice, and a thick accent.

He does wear glasses - round ones, that only serve to make him look slightly more frightening.

He's unusual in how he dresses, as well - he often wears turtleneck sweaters, and when it's too warm, long or even short sleeved Henleys. In public. In the 1920s, that's at least a tad eccentric.

LUDWIG AND THE GANG

One thing that Ludwig has going for him is his relationship with the Daisy. It's genuinely a good one! He even managed to find them a beer supplier!

Despite his rather awkward and stilted nature, he tends to get along with the Daisy folks just fine. He's intimidating at first, but he really does try to be friendly, even if he accidentally scares people. A lot.

LUDWIG AND LOVE

I have more than one idea for Ludwig shipping wise, but they're a bit far out and would require a lot of planning. He's not going after Lacy, Lacy is Arthur's! But I do eventually want him to end up with...someone. Not sure who, though.

[scramble-crossing]

no please tell us your joshua thoughts i insist

You’ve hit me at a crucial moment of procrastination and utter dread. ON HIS BIRTHDAY.  Ideal circumstance to talk about Joshua.

Right off the bat though I’ve gotta say that a lot of this is probably not the most canon-adherent stuff and also only Josh-adjacent in some cases since I tend to focus on how he relates to other characters + the series’ worldbuilding over his actual self-contained character. I like him and all I just have the most fun using him as a narrative tool for the characters I like a little more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

First of all, I usually put Joshua as having died and become Composer sometime between 1900-1920 following a near-and-dear headcanon that Kariya became a Reaper during the cultural shift of the 1920s with the advent of the salaryman lifestyle-if you’re going to sell your soul for guaranteed work it might as well come with the perk of being able to spend most of your existence lazing around the city instead of being boxed up in some itty-bitty cubical.

However this is mostly based on the assumption that Joshua predates all of the Shibuya Reapers. Otherwise they would recognize him, right? In opposition to this I really really love the headcanon that all trace of a person’s existence is erased from both the RG and UG upon becoming Composer (or any position higher than Conductor). In that case I think it’d be fun if Joshua came shortly after Kariya. They knew each other at some point.

^When Kariya confronted him and Neku in W2 Josh had a brief moment of “Holy shit does he remember me?” before Kari said he was alive and he got the biggest, shit-eatingest grin on his face. Yippiiiiie!!! Oily Josh has wriggled his way out of consequences once again!!!!

(Kariya is aware that there was a change in Composer sometime during his run as a Reaper. He sensed the city shift with it. The way it sings now, it’s almost…familiar? He doesn’t think about it too deeply, it saddens him a bit if he does)

Speaking of Josh & Friends, @starocide has a ton of very very fun ideas about Joshua and Coco being partners during their Reaper’s Game and it being the connection mentioned in That One Interview. That’s gonna be a whole separate essay one day, suffice to say for now that the Joshua from A New Day was reminiscent of the person he used to be, but twisted by Coco into a mocking caricature of himself.

(Coco doesn’t remember him, but she knows who he is. Joshua remembers her perfectly, but it doesn’t matter anymore.)

The Toxic Shithead Squad continues with Minamimoto. I have a LOT of thoughts about Joshua and Minamimoto.

By far the most interesting thing about W2 for me is just how much Joshua talks about Mina. Not just talks about, describes. He’s a math fetishist (rude) he’s an attention-seeker (rude…but fair) he’s the magic word I’ve been thinking about for the past two years: lonely. I think it’s incredibly interesting how many judgments of character Joshua makes about this guy despite the fact that we’re given no inclination to treat him as some sort of cat-whisperer or someone who’s in a position to understand Minamimoto at all. For the pure intrigue of it I like to see a lot of these calls as being accurate (idc if it’s cliche or corny, imply to me that Sho, somewhere in his heart of hearts, craves companionship and I will eat that shit up) but I also think that it’s equally interesting to question why Josh’s making these calls in the first place. Where's this stuff coming from? Why does he keep acting like he knows exactly what he's thinking?

I think Joshua sees a lot of himself in Minamimoto. Here’s a kid who’s deeply dissatisfied with the world around him, someone who thinks so little of other people that he, in his arrogance, is willing to reject every different thought, opinion, and action, shunning the people around him, treating them as little more than bugs he’s willing to step on in his all-consuming quest for the power to make something better than before: the world as it ends with him. Minamimoto isn’t just pursuing Joshua, he’s following his every footstep. Joshua sees this, recognizes it (though maybe not consciously) so that when he erases him he isn’t ridding himself of a potential threat or batting away this annoying little gnat that keeps interfering with his plans, symbolically he’s destroying himself. And if anything, isn’t that an act of mercy? Wouldn’t it be better to be dead than to waste away on his throne, watching a world he no longer recognizes slowly pass him by? Isn’t that what he wanted all along?

I think Joshua's story ended perfectly with twewy. I don't think there was anything left unresolved about it, and frankly I'm glad he barely had anything to do with the plot of neo. He made his choice. Was it the wrong one? Was there ever another option? Did he ever have a chance? Who knows! He's a walking worst-case-scenario and I love seeing how detached and apathetic he's become in neo, how he never let himself connect with Neku even though he gave him the chance (which was so, so much more than Joshua could ever have asked for), how Neku doesn't even seem to trust him anymore, how he's become little more than an anecdote in his life and the lives of is friends, a passing comment, a joke, a distant, sour memory. It's fantastic. I love Hachiko gang. I love fan content where they're all friends and Josh is this cryptic little sillyguy who has fun pushing all their buttons but is deeply unequivocally loved at the end of it all, but I hope that never happens in canon. I hope he stays a tragedy.

Happy birthday you little freak <3

[darry-rules]

Abandoned by Dandy

You may have heard about the Dandy Corporation’s modern-day ghost towns. A company as large and as long-lasting as Dandy Co. is bound to make a few mistakes, and when they do, it’s often cheaper to just ignore them than to throw good money after bad.

One such misstep was the “Pirate’s Atoll” resort in the Caribbean. It didn’t start as a ghost town, of course. Cruise ships would drop hundreds of passengers off at the resort to relax in luxury. The resort had a tiki bar, a small collection of exotic animals, and daily live pirate shows. You can find these facts, and even a few photos, if you know where to look it up.

Dandy Co. blew over $30,000,000 on the project. That’s not a typo. Thirty million dollars. Then, without warning, they completely abandoned it.

Blame was placed on the cruise lines, which were contracted to provide a licensed Dandyland theme. Apparently, they tried to renegotiate fees in a predatory manner. They knew the resort would be useless without the ships, and that Dandy had a lot to lose. Local staff on the island were also blamed for showing up late and having a poor work ethic.

That’s where the truthful nature of the story ends. It wasn’t because of greedy cruise lines, and it most definitely wasn’t because “those dang foreigners are so lazy”. No, I very sincerely doubt that those excuses hold water.

Why? Because of Primeveire’s Palace.

Near the beach side city of Emerald Isle in North Carolina, Dandy began construction of “Primeveire’s Palace” in the late 1990s. Conceptually, it was going to be a lush, medieval forest. The aforementioned palace would sit at the center and house the guests.

If you’re unfamiliar with the titular character, you may remember the classic story, “The Noble And The Knave”. However, most people probably know her from the decades-old Dandy cartoon of the same name. Primeveire is a young lady from a royal family, exiled into the primitive wilderness by a cruel nobleman. There, she befriends various woodland creatures before being rescued by a reformed highwayman.

Primeveire’s Palace was a controversial undertaking from the very beginning. Dandy bought out a ton of high-priced land for the project, and scandal surrounded some of the purchases. The local government claimed “eminent domain” on people’s homes, then immediately sold them to Dandy Co. One home had just finished construction when it was immediately condemned with no real explanation.

The land that had been seized was supposedly intended for some sort of highway project. Knowing full well that this was a lie, people starting calling it “Lemming Lane”. A play on their mascot, Lucky Lemming, and the legend that the creatures took paths to their own demise.

Then, there was the concept art. A few stuffed shirt types from Dandy Co. held a city meeting.

They intended to convince everyone that this project was going to benefit them. It would increase tourism, bringing extra customers to local businesses. They revealed the concept art with a flourish and accompanying upbeat music, sure it would impress their audience. When people saw the garish, technicolor eyesore of a building, the surrounding tribal wilderness, and staff members dressed in “wild savage” loincloths and masks… suffice to say everyone flipped their shit.

We’re talking about a magical castle of sorts, an arcane forest, and half-naked servants. Not only would this be in the center of a relatively wealthy, historic area, but also one below the “Bible Belt”.

Magic, talking animals, and exposed skin were highly controversial at that point in time. One crowd members stormed the stage, in fact, managing to break a presentation board over his knee.

Dandy took the community and essentially broke it over their knee in response. Houses were razed to the ground. Land was cleared. There wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do or say about it. Local television stations and newspapers were against the building of the resort, at first. Then, some corporate connections between Dandy Co.’s media holdings and the local news venues came into play. Their opinions soon turned on a dime.

But I digress… Remember Pirate’s Atoll in the Caribbean? Dandy sunk all that money into it, then split at the first sign of trouble. The same thing happened with Primeveire’s Palace. Construction was completed, and visitors stayed at the resort with little to no problems. The smaller surrounding communities were flooded with traffic and the usual annoyances that came with an influx of lost and cranky travelers.

Then… it all just stopped. They shut it down and nobody knew what to think. Still, though the lack of answers was confusing, residents were pretty happy to hear the news. Dandy’s loss was hilarious and wonderful to a large group of people who didn’t want this in the first place.

Personally, I hadn’t given the place a second thought after hearing it had closed over a decade ago. I live about four hours from Emerald Isle, so I only managed to hear the rumors and rumblings. No first-hand information made it my way.

Then, I found an article from a blogger who had explored the Pirate’s Atoll resort. He posted detailed descriptions of the crazy shit he discovered there. Everything left behind was smashed, defaced, probably ruined by disgruntled former employees. Hell, maybe people came from miles around to wreck the place. They were probably just as angry about Pirate’s Atoll as folks here were about the palace.

There were even rumors that Dandy Co. had released their aquarium stock into the local waters when they closed down. This would’ve included a variety of dangerous, invasive species, including sharks. Who wouldn’t want to take a few swings at them after that?

The blog post about Pirate’s Atoll got me thinking. Even though many years had passed since it closed, I figured it might be interesting to do some urban exploration at Primeveire’s Palace. I could take some photos, write about my experience, and pretty much copy what this other blogger had done long before me. I might even be able to take something home as a memento.

I can’t say that I hurried there. It took me around a year after I first found that blog post. Over that time, I researched the the resort… or rather, I tried to. Naturally, no official Dandy-related website or resource made any mention of the location. They had all been scrubbed clean.

Stranger still, it seemed like no one other than myself had thought to talk about the place or even post vacation photos from there. None of the local news sites contained one word about the place, though that could be expected since they had all swung Dandy’s way. They wouldn’t be allowed bring attention to the embarrassment.

More recently, I learned that large corporations can actually ask search engines to remove search results. From what I’ve heard, they don’t even need to provide a good reason for the removal. Looking back on it, that’s probably what happened. It’s not that there were no posts about the resort, but that their words were simply made inaccessible.

So, naturally, I could barely find the place in the end. All I had to work with was an old-as-Hell map I received in the mail back in the ’90s. It was part of a promotional brochure that had been sent out to people who had recently been to Dandyland. My family had visited the park in the late ’80s, so we were on the list. I hadn’t intended to keep the brochure, but it got shoved into a box with my childhood comic books. I only remembered it existed a few months into my research, and then it took me a couple weeks to get around to visiting my parents and finding where it had all been stored.

After I found the map, I was sure the difficult part was over. However, on my way to the resort, I found that the locals weren’t going to be any help. Most were transplants who had moved to the beach in recent years. Others were old residents who sneered the second I spoke the word “Primeveire” or, worse yet, “Dandy”.

The drive took me through an inordinately long corridor of overgrowth. Exotic plants had run rampant and overpopulated the area, mixing with the native species that were desperately vying to reclaim the land. I was in awe when I finally reached the entrance to the main resort. The tremendous, monolithic wooden gates still stood, their supports cut from what seemed like giant sequoias. The otherwise majestic gate was gouged by woodpeckers, and the base was slowly being eaten away by burrowing insects.

Hanging at face-level was a sheet of metal. It was some random scrap, with a hand-painted message scrawled in black paint. “ABANDONED BY DANDY”. Clearly, this was the handiwork of some past local or employee who wanted to voice their own small protest.

The entrance was open wide enough to slip through, but not wide enough for a vehicle. So, grabbing my digital camera, a flashlight, and the brochure, I set off on foot. Flipping the paper over displayed a layout of the resort itself, though the landscape was a little less friendly.

The inner grounds were just as wild as the entryway. Fruit trees stood untended and ragged among piles of their own stinking, bug-riddled rot. There was a strange clash between order and chaos, as carefully planted rows of perennial flowers fought for space with tall weeds and stinking, blackened mushrooms.

All that remained of any smaller outdoor structures were piles of broken, charred debris.

Something that seemed to be an information booth was now a chopped-up heap of wood and splintered information boards. What vandals hadn’t ruined was ruined by inclement weather.

What struck me as bizarre, was a large statue of Princess Primeveire which stood prominently within a courtyard in front of the palace. She was frozen in a delicate wave toward no one, staring into empty space with a demure, slight smile as generations of bird shit covered her crown, hair, and dress. Ugly, thorny vines entangled her platform.

I approached the building. Any colors left were washed out, sun faded, and much of the plaster meant to simulate stonework had cracked from exposure. Where the paint hadn’t peeled or chipped away, there was copious amounts of graffiti.

The front doors weren’t just left open, they had been taken completely off of their hinges and were seemingly stolen. Above the gaping maw where the front doors had been, someone had once again painted the phrase, “ABANDONED BY DANDY”.

You’re probably waiting to hear about all the awesome stuff I saw inside the palace. Forgotten valuables, derelict cash registers, a full-fledged secret society of homeless cannibals… but no. The inside of the building was so stark, so bare, that I think people may have even stolen the moulding off of the walls. Anything that was too big to steal like counters, desks, and giant fake trees rested in an empty echo chamber. Every step I took was amplified like a slow rat-a-tat of a machine gun.

I checked the floor plan and headed to the specific locations that seemed interesting. The kitchen was as you’d imagine. It was an industrial food prep area with rows of various appliances. No expenses were spared. Every glass surface was broken. Every door was knocked out of its frame. Every metal surface was kicked and dented. Worst of all, the entire room smelled like stale, acrid piss.

The walk-in freezer, not even remotely cool at that point, had row upon row of empty shelves. Hooks hung from the ceiling, most likely for hanging cuts of meat. As I took in the sight for a moment, I noticed that several of them were swinging. Their movements were so slow and small that it was almost impossible to see if you weren’t paying attention. I briefly considered that it had been caused by me moving through, but they were moving in areas I hadn’t even been to yet.

The public bathrooms were in much the same state. Just like the Pirate’s Atoll resort, someone had methodically smashed each porcelain commode with whatever was available to throw. About a half-inch of stinking, stagnant water had pooled on the floor, so of course I didn’t stay for long. What’s odd is that the toilets and sinks (and the bidets, yes I went in there) all dripped, leaked, or just flowed freely. It seemed to me that the water should’ve been shut off quite a long time ago.

There were plenty of hotel-style rooms in the resort, but I definitely didn’t have time to look through them all. The few I did peer into were similarly destroyed, and I wouldn’t have realistically found anything interesting in them. I thought I could hear a television or radio in one room, since it almost sounded like there was a conversation going on inside. It was like a whisper, but looking back it could’ve just been my own breathing echoing in the silence. Maybe it was just entirely a trick of the mind.

It sounded like an exchange between two voices.

1: “I didn’t believe in it.” 2: (Nearly inaudible reply.)

1: “I didn’t know that. I couldn’t know that.” 2: “Father told you.”

1: (Nearly inaudible reply, similar to weeping.)

I’m aware of how ridiculous that sounds. Still, I suspected there might’ve been something running in that room – or worse, some meth heads who had holed up there and probably would’ve knifed me.

When I returned to the front of the palace, I figured I hadn’t found anything of note. The trip had been a waste of time. I was going to drive straight home again, rather than booking a hotel room, so I couldn’t even consider it a one-night vacation.

As I looked outside, I noticed something in the courtyard that I must’ve missed before. It was something that would give me one really cool thing to show for all my trouble, even if it was just a picture. A life-like statue of a python, maybe fifty feet long, sat coiled up and sunning itself on a large, graffiti covered rock. It was almost time for the sun to set, so light was falling onto it in the perfect way for a photograph.

I approached the python and snapped a photo. I stood on my toes and snapped another. I moved in closer to get the details of its face. Slowly, casually, the snake lifted its head and looked directly into my eyes. It turned, slithered off of the rock, across the grass, and into the tree line. Its head long disappeared into the woods before its tail even left the sunning spot.

Dandy Co. had released all of their exotic animals onto the grounds. Right there on my floor plan map was the reptile house. Of course, I should’ve expected it. I had read about the sharks at Pirate’s Atoll, and I should have known they would do this.

I was dumbfounded. Utterly stupefied. My mouth must’ve been hanging open for the longest time before I came to my senses and snapped it shut. I blinked stupidly for a moment, then backed toward the palace, away from the snake. Even though it was gone, I wasn’t taking any chances and retreated to the building to gather my wits again.

I looked for a place to sit down and breathe. I had always had an unreasonable fear of snakes… of anything with scales, really. At that point, my legs felt like they’d become jelly. Of course, there was no place to sit down unless I wanted to recline in broken glass and a leaf carpet crawling with insects. I could’ve hauled myself onto a desk, but it probably would’ve collapsed from age.

I had seen a receding staircase in the lobby and decided to have a seat there until my pulse stopped pounding in my ears. The stairs were far enough from the front of the building to be somewhat clean, other than a startling accumulation of dust. I pulled a wedge of metal off of the wall and used it as an improvised seat cover. Once again, it had been painted with the “ABANDONED BY DANDY” motto I had become accustomed to.

The stairway lead down to a below-ground level of the building. Using my flashlight, I could see that the stairs ended at a metal mesh door with a padlock. A sign on the door, a real sign unlike the hastily scrawled ones, read “Mascots only! Thank you!”. That perked up my spirits for two reasons.

First, a mascots-only area would definitely contain some interesting things back in the day. Second, the padlock was still in place. Nobody had gone down there – not the vandals, the looters, no one.

That was the one place I could actually explore, and perhaps find really unique stuff to photograph or even steal. I had come to the palace with the decision that it was okay to take something back for proof. After all, the owners clearly didn’t care.

I didn’t have much hope of breaking the lock. The ravages of age weren’t powerful enough to corrode the metal that much. What I could do, however, was separate the plate that held it in place from the damaged wood of the wall. The screws pulled free easily once I applied enough pressure. Either others hadn’t thought to try bypassing the lock, or it was still too solid when they had tried.

The mascots-only area was a startling and welcomed change from the rest of the palace. Every second or third florescent light was illuminated, though they flickered and faded randomly. Nothing had been broken or stolen, though time and desertion had taken their toll. Tables bore notepads and pens. Clocks hung on the walls, frozen at different times. There was a punch-in clock, complete with filled-out time cards. Chairs were scattered around, and long rotted-out food and drinks sat on counter tops. It was like one of those post-apocalyptic movies where everything is left in a state of evacuation.

As I wandered the maze-like sub-basement hallways, the sights became more and more disquieting. Further in, desks and tables were knocked over. Scattered papers had melded with the damp floor, and a large expanse of fungus was slowly overtaking rotted carpeting. Everything was just… squishy. Anything made of wood disintegrated into mush when I applied even the least amount of force. Clothing items left hanging on hooks simply fell to moist threads if I tried to remove them.

One thing that got on my nerves was that the light became more sparse and unreliable as I proceeded. It wasn’t dark enough for a flashlight, but not bright enough to be comfortable. The depths of the sub-basement grew dank and suffocating. Eventually, I reached a bright yellow door with the words “Mascot Prep 1” stenciled on its surface.

In my excitement, I all but yanked off the doorknob. I figured that room held the costumes, and I definitely wanted a photograph of that twisted, stinking mess. Try as I might, whatever angle or trick I tried, the door wouldn’t budge. That is, until I acknowledged defeat and began to walk away. That was when there was a slight popping sound, after which the door slowly creaked open just a bit.

Inside, the room was completely dark. Pitch black. I used my light to search for a switch on the wall by the door, but there was none. As I focused on the walls, I was jarred out of my concentration by a sudden and piercing electrical buzz. Rows of lights overhead suddenly flashed to life, flickering and fading like the others I had passed.

It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and it seemed as if the light was going to keep growing in brightness until the bulbs exploded. Just when I thought it would reach that critical stage, they dimmed a bit and steadied. The room was exactly how I had imagined it. Various Dandy character costumes hung on the walls like strange cartoon cadavers suspended from invisible nooses.

What I found odd, and what I really needed to make a record of, was a Lucky Lemming costume at the center of the room. Unlike the other costumes, it was lying on its back like a murder victim. Its fur was matted and shedding, creating bare patches.

What’s worse, however, was the coloring of the costume. I think mold and mildew must have taken root, seeming to turn it into a photo-negative version of the actual Lucky Lemming. Black rot where he should have been white. White fungus filaments where he should have been black. His clothes seemed faded and bleached, the opposite of their their usual hue.

The sight was so off-putting that I postponed looking at the thing again until I was ready to leave the room. I took a picture of the costumes hung on the walls. Upward angles, downward angles, side shots to show an entire row of frozen, putrefied cartoon faces. The occasional missing eye made it all the more grim.

Then, I decided to stage a shot. I was going to place one of the bedraggled character heads on the slick, grimy floor. Reaching for the headpiece of a Loopy Loon costume, I carefully removed it so it wouldn’t fall apart in my hands. As I looked into the face of the wide-eyed, moldering head, a loud clattering sound made me jump with fright.

Looking down at my feet, I saw a human skull now resting between my shoes. It had fallen out of the mascot head and cracked into several pieces. The empty face stared up at me, jaw detached.

I dropped the costume head immediately, as you’d no doubt expect. I moved for the door, but something stopped me. I looked back to the skull and felt a flush of anger. I had to take a picture to show the world. I’d need proof of this, especially if the Dandy Corporation was going to somehow make this all disappear. I had no doubt in my mind that Dandy was responsible for this, even if it was just gross negligence. Whatever happened, this was the real reason the resort had closed.

I was the only one who knew. Me.

As I contemplated the implications, that’s when Lucky… that photo-negative, opposite-character in the middle of the floor… started to get up. First sitting, then climbing to its feet, the Lucky Lemming costume, or whoever was inside of it, stood on over-sized, unsteady feet. All I could do was mumble “No…” over and over again as its false face stared me down with an inoffensive, pleasant expression.

With shaking hands, a violently thrashing heart, and legs that had once again turned to jelly, I managed to lift the camera. It took all of my strength to raise and aim it at the thing that was quietly sizing me up, head tilted. The camera’s screen displayed only dead pixels in the shape of the thing. It was a perfect silhouette of the Lucky Lemming costume. As the camera shifted and shook in my hands, the dead pixels spread, marring the screen wherever Lucky’s outline appeared.

The camera died. It went blank and quiet. It was broken. I raised my eyes once again from the black screen to the costume in front of me.

“Hey”, it said in a hushed, perfectly executed Lucky Lemming voice, “Wanna see my head come off?”

It started to pull at its own head, working clumsy, glove-clad fingers around the surface of its neck with clawing, impatient movements. It was like watching a wounded man trying to pull himself free from a predator’s jaws. As it worked its digits into the fabric flesh, rolling rivulets of thick, curdled, yellow bile spilled from what seemed like wounds. At least, it looked like bile. Infected blood? Pus?

Vomit? I had zero interest in finding out.

I turned away as I heard a sickening tearing of cloth and flesh. I only cared about getting away.

Above the doorway out of the room, I saw a final message clawed into metal with fingernails, or possibly bone. “ABANDONED BY GOD”.

The picture files in the camera were irretrievable. I never got my head around writing the blog entry about what happened. After I ran from that place, fleeing for my sanity as much as my life, I knew why the Dandy Corporation didn’t want anyone to know about this place.

They didn’t want anyone like me getting in, because they didn’t want anything like that getting out.

[threewaysdivided]

So, in YJDW, Danny is still very much a solo-hero type. I imagine that's going to potentially cause some issues down the road, both with learning how to work as an equal with other supers and bonding with them since his own hero development is so different from the Team's. No mentor, the discomfort that the nature of his powers can cause, the mixed history he DOES have that's public knowledge, and the lack of real exposure to the rest of the superhero sphere of influence.

(Young Justice: Deathly Weapons)

So this is interesting because you're completely right; those are things that should complicate Danny's interactions (and potential integration) with established heroes and hero teams.

However, the specifics of Danny's circumstances and road to joining the Team in Deathly Weapons kind of alleviate or sidestep a lot of those potential issues. At cost of giving him a new catalogue of complexes to deal with but beggars can't be choosers.

I think we discussed a few of the particulars a while ago in this post thread with @doodly-doop, so I might gloss over some of those finer points here.

Suffice to say that, if it was a immediately-post-series Phantom, there's a lot of potential stumbling blocks to do with him already having ingrained instincts/ strategic impulses/ reflexes/ fighting styles that are specifically geared towards him being the lone powerhouse/ point guard/ tank in a group of otherwise Badass Normal support members. (Compare Superboy, who might be best suited to the specific role of tank/ threat management but who knows most of his teammates can take hits that would incapacitate regular humans). There's also potential for personality clashes given that Phantom is somewhat used to being the de facto leader in his own environment, and also the possibility for him to be carrying some resentment over being left un-mentored or having to deal with ghost problems entirely by himself if it becomes clear that the others knew something was happening in Amity but chose not to intervene.

If you want fic recs, Communication Issues (DP x YJ) by @nerdofspades is specifically about the resentment thing, and the solo-act-joins-team-operation issue is something that comes up in MirrorandImage's DP x TT fic Ghost of A Chance.

When it comes to Deathly Weapons, the details of the setup have kind of brushed aside some of those issues or reduced their severity. Danny's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad nine months of being a fugitive in between leaving Amity and finding Batman (which we will learn more about in coming chapters) has made him a lot more amenable to feedback and groupwork.

Rather than being fresh from overt frontline heroing he's spent almost a year in hiding; a time where he and the rest of Team Phantom had to work a lot more collaboratively, in situations where Danny was very conscious that the others' skills and connections were just as, if not more important than his powers (which at times were even a liability since they could potentially be tracked). Trying to pull a solo-act or otherwise splitting up the group is a really risky move when you're being hunted, and it curbed a lot of the impulses that might have led him to break ranks or otherwise deviate from a team plan without checking in first.

It's also worn down a lot of his pride in a few ways. First, simply traveling around America has made him much more conscious of how small scale he and Amity Park are, both geographically and in the grand scheme of heroism. It's something he thinks about in Chapter 15:

Everything here was too big for him - the manor, Gotham City, Batman and Robin, top-tier heroes... Sure, maybe back in Amity he'd been something special. Or at least, half of him might have been. But if months on the road had shown him anything it was that, in the eyes of the world, Amity Park was just another small, no-name town. Just like he was. Small-town. -Roads to Safe Places (Chapter 15)

There's also the fact that he's just... extremely tired. Being the de facto head of a group in a time of crisis is an exhausting level of responsibility, especially when you have no reliable fallbacks and prohibitively huge consequences for failure. In Chapter 8, Danny is very resistant to cooperating with Batman and Robin, but that's not pride that's survival mode: Danny and Co. endured the last nine months primarily by being aggressively self-reliant and not trusting other people. (There's also a little bit of grief and survivor's guilt in the mix: a sense that this is his torch to bear alone, and that it wouldn't be fair to pass the burden.)

Part of him desperately wanted somebody to step in, to take the load. But that wasn't how it worked. This was his mess. He couldn't just shove it off onto someone else because he wasn't up to the challenge. - Interference (Chapter 9)

Not only that but Team Phantom did not do well during their time on the run - they sacrificed a lot just to get out of Amity Park and were mostly met with more losses as they went - which Danny feels responsible for as the one who was supposed to be leading them. In some ways Phantom and his team went through their own nine-month equivalent to the Failsafe training exercise, and Danny walked away from it with a similar mindset:

I was desperate to be in charge. Not anymore. - Robin, YJS1 E17 Disordered

Once he accepts that he can safely take the help, the suggestion of being on a Team where Batman, Aqualad (and sometimes Robin) are ultimately the ones responsible for calling the shots is less likely to be met with a how dare you as much as an oh thank god.

On top of that, the Danny of Deathly Weapons has a touch of literal hero-worship going on. This Danny grew up with the cultural presence of heroes on Earth-16; from the history of the Justice Society, to living through the formation of the Justice League. By the time he had the accident that turned him into Phantom, Robin, Aqualad, Kid Flash and Speedy would all have been publicly active as proteges for at least 6 months. And in the absence of a mentor of his own, well... I'm going to share a sneak-peak snippet from the CH21 draft:

Maybe it hit harder coming from other heroes.  From the kinds of people whose stories he’d looked to when he was first starting out - that some young, secret part of himself had fantasised might meet and understand him some day. - Equilibrium DRAFT (Chapter 21)

In combination, you might be able to see how the Danny of Deathly Weapons has been shifted just enough to the left of canon!Danny to play better with others. If anything, he's uncharacteristically passive and submissive in their first standalone mission due both to his unfamiliarity with the situation and stakes, and to all that baggage squashing him down. This is a Danny who has new raw patches exposed, but whose experiences have sanded away some of the edges that would otherwise have clashed with a teamwork setting.

It also helps that he's being placed on The Team specifically. Unlike say, the Teen Titans or Justice League, this is a covert squad that's doubling as a proving ground for starting proteges. Between Superboy, M'gann, Artemis and Zatanna they're pretty used to assimilating a mixed bag of powers and skills from members who don't have a lot of direct exposure to the rest of the superhero sphere. And because they're a covert squad whose main advantage lies in being unexpected and underestimated despite how often their plans seem to end in arson, they have their own motivation to stay as publicly invisible as they can manage, which not only lets Phantom operate with lower risk of being personally discovered, but also helps limit them and the League's potential exposure to ectophobic public sentiment.

That isn't to say that this Danny doesn't still carry some resentment or bitter feelings about how he's perceived and what he's been through (especially if someone whose name may or may not start with Kid and rhyme with Dash was to specifically antagonise him about it) but he comes to it with an additional nine months of perspective that make him more likely to respond to collaboration with a quiet sense of relief. At least once you can get past the defensive prickle and general awkwardness about accepting help.

This is all stuff I'm looking forward to elaborating on across the story and especially in the upcoming Flashpoints/ Combustion/ Equilibrium chapter set (CH19-21). It'll make more sense after those releases but hopefully this explains well enough for now.

Thanks for stopping by! 💜

[shslskaterboy]

protagonists for the character questionnaire!

Oh goodness I hope you’re ready for another essay

Makoto my dear boy

Favourite thing? He’s the most some guy ever. Just a little creature. He’s so relatable because who among us hasn’t been in a situation where we feel wildly outclassed and surrounded by people who are cooler and more talented than us? Despite everything he just keeps going, what a legend

Least favourite is people who are wrong about him. How does anyone play that game and say he’s a nothing character? I just don’t get it, stop disrespecting my son

Honestly he’s got way more excellent lines than people give him credit for, but my favourite has to be “I always choose meat over veggies because I’m still in my teens… my meat teens.” Like WHAT are you talking about king I love it

Brotp probably him and Aoi. It’s the positivity besties

Otp is Naegiri. There’s just so much mutual respect between them and the story does a great job of writing them together that I can’t help but love him

Notp is probably just him with anyone that’s not kirigiri, or togami really. Whilst I personally hc Byakuya as aroace I do get why people ship naegami and I do think it’s kinda hilarious

I hc that him and Komaru are besties. Absolutely attached at the hip. They hang out all the time and he loves doing stuff with her, and is so so excited to introduce her to his new friends

The song I associate with him most is Fireflies by Owl City

Favourite art of him is the one where he’s tripping and his shoe just flies the fuck off. What a silly little man I love him

Hajime my beloved (I’m gonna be normal I swear)

To put it as succinctly as possible, he is just my favourite type of guy. He’s such a bitch, he’s so snarky about everything, he’s simultaneously the smartest and dumbest person in any given room, and he actually cares very deeply for things but he won’t readily admit to it. He’s got one of the more interesting arcs to me and in general I find him very relatable. He’s the best, my favourite protagonist probably

Least favourite is maybe less about him and more about Izuru Kamukura, and that is how underused he was. Obviously this is an opinion many people know about me, but it bears repeating because the concept of Kamukura was SO COOL and they barely even touched it and I’m mad about it every single day

Another guy that has so many good lines, but I think my favourite is “I thought I’d finally become someone I could be proud of, not some fucking backup student.” It just hits me so hard every time

Brotp probably him and Fuyuhiko or him and Impostor. I just think those three are the ones in the group with the highest sense of responsibility and they are the tired parents of this silly goofy pack of weirdos

Otp. It’s Komahina. Everyone knows this about me and I will refrain from writing an entire essay about why but suffice it to say. They are prefect

Notp is really anyone who’s not Komaeda, but specifically Nanami and Tsumiki are big on the No list for me

I have so many headcanons that my adhd brain can’t even begin to process them in a cohesive way, so I’ll just say that emo-punk autistic Hinata is my absolute beloved. Also man’s definitely has an anxiety disorder. And nooooo I’m definitely not projecting why do you ask

Unpopular opinion (so far the only character I’ve had one for) is that he’s not bi, he’s just gay. And look I love headcanoning every character ever as bi (again tooooootally not projecting) but whenever I replay/rewatch the game I see him being so gay about the men and being so uninterested in the girls (excepted for the super-forced hinanami stuff that I ignore)

I have sooooo many songs so I had to think about this a lot but I think I’m gonna say the best Hinata song is Life Less Frightening by Rise Against

Every image is the best image of him but specifically this one is so good

He’s fucking tired of this shit and he wants to be done with this despair nonsense and I love him for it

Shuichi Saihara, whom I am also normal about

It’s so hard to pinpoint why I love Saihara so much, but I think part of it is the fact that underneath his anxious exterior, he is actually very snarky. I’m always a slut for the sarcastic characters and I like the he is that as well as being generally polite to his classmates. He cares deeply and has a tendency to overthink things (totally not relatable) and I just need to give this poor man a HUG

Least favourite thing is how he interacts with Ouma in the canon outside of ftes. A good example of this being when he finds Ouma bleeding from the head on the floor and doesn’t seem to show any actual concern for him, which seems very out of character to me. I just think there was a lot more they could’ve done to build a connection between protag and antag that would’ve served to make the story more interesting, much the way the relationship between Hinata and Komaeda does

Short and sweet, my favourite Saihara line is simply “I refuse.” I am a big supporter of the idea that Shuichi should’ve been allowed to go a little crazy in chapter 6, and his whole telling off hope and despair speech was very fun. He really went “fuck you and your stupid game” and I just love it

Brotp has gotta be Kaito and Maki. I love the training trio and I think they have a great dynamic

Otp is saiouma. And yes I know I just raised a complaint about their lacklustre interactions in the game, but hey, canon can’t hurt me if I don’t look. There is a lot of potential for excellent character dynamics and that’s what I’m gonna focus on

Notp is saimatsu. Sorry anyone who likes them but it’s so comphet to me. Again, that is a gay boy and a lesbian, not a romantic couple

I hc that he really likes singing. Not to a professional degree or anything, but he does it while he works and it serves as a calming vocal stim for him. His voice is definitely very soft and sweet, which doesn’t lend itself well to his preferred genre of music (my sweet sweet emo boy) but that doesn’t stop him from trying

Again, so many songs I could choose from, but I will go with Swing Life Away by Rise Against because he’s just my sweet guy, my love, my boy

And once more, every image of Shuichi is my favourite, but I very specifically love his Serious Face sprite

I guess the takeaway is I like it when the protags get serious and start to shut shit down

[corner-stories]

sketches and snow

Mikasa Ackerman. Jean Kirschtein. Snowfall. Teapots. Quebecois Swearing. Grad School AU. 5236 words. (ao3.)

Mikasa Ackerman’s first two months in grad school were going well. On top of her advisor being one of the country’s experts on molecular plant pathology, the undergrads she was assigned to babysit had yet to get on her nerves. In fact, she started to look forward to running online “office hours,” since people rarely came by it gave her time to catch up on some reading or emails. Ideas regarding her thesis were also flowing a lot better than she expected — despite all the time she had to decide she was already keen on exploring a specific parasite that only affected flowers that thrived in cold environments. 

Montreal also proved to be as lovely as she imagined it. On top of the colourful architecture and supreme walkability, Mikasa was able to get around despite her less-than-stellar grasp on French. Being capable of interacting outside of the anglophone bubble proved to be helpful, even if all she could do was order food or say, “No, I don’t watch hockey.”

That being said, Mikasa Ackerman’s third month at grad school was going considerably less well. From the moment she applied to McGill she had been warned of the hell that was winters in Quebec. Those who grew up around the area had been acclimatized to the cold the second they were born, but a born-and-bred Vancouverite like herself stood no chance. Having lived on the west coast for most of her life, Mikasa’s could only handle mild winters at best and freezing rain at worst.  

When she got accepted to the program she was ecstatic, feeling satisfied in knowing that all the work she put into her undergrad had amounted to something. On top of earning a Master’s in Plant Science, it would be an opportunity to move to a new city and explore a different side of life. She hadn’t visited Quebec before and was pleased to have a reason to. 

But once the weather began taking a turn, a part of Mikasa wondered if she should’ve explored a different side of life somewhere else — preferably a place with temperatures above fifteen degrees. 

Suffice to say, the multiple chunky sweaters her Auntie insisted she pack were barely enough to fend off the chill. 

Today proved to be a bundle of surprises. The sky was overcast when she left her apartment and commuted to the university, nothing she couldn’t handle. The weather was the last thing on her mind as she entered the biology department and rushed to Professor Dietrich’s office. Even when she received a teasing text from her roommate to prepare for the snow, Mikasa didn’t anticipate more than a few inches of powder. 

However, what she did not anticipate was shockingly thick layers of white piling up on every corner of the city. Upon exiting the biology department  she was greeted by much more chill than she had dressed for. Combined with the snow currently gathering on the ground, she was already anticipating just how difficult it would be getting home. 

Making her way to the metro was the first step — a step characterized by the heavy snow coming up to her knees. Hopefully the students leaving the building got a good laugh from the poor grad student currently trying out for the Ministry of Silly Walks. 

The train was the normal amount of hectic when Mikasa got on. As various Montrealers and nervous anglophone McGill students bumped against her, she fished her headphones from her bag and put them on. Hopefully a song or two could alleviate the stress already building inside of her. 

Unsurprisingly, Mikasa was greeted by more snow upon arriving at her station and stepping outside. 

With a sigh, she tightened her overcoat around herself as began to walk underneath the white flakes. Just like before the layers of white were higher than she anticipated, making her realize that wearing knee-high wellingtons were only a good idea if bits of water weren't able to slowly trickle inside the boot. 

The wind made everything in the air blow sideways, causing snowflakes to hit at every angle. Pulling her scarf over her nose seemed to only do so much. And as to be expected for Novembre, the days were shorter and thus the sky was already dark. 

Mikasa didn’t believe in a higher power, but it was moments like these that made her wonder if the gods of winter were hunting her for sport. 

After a few minutes of trudging through the very snowy streets of Plateau Mont Royal, Mikasa finally arrived at her block. She could already imagine the ways she could warm herself once she got inside her apartment. She could change into some dry socks, brew herself some tea, or even treat herself to a nice bath. The mere thought of such things already felt like heaven. 

Then in her pocket she felt her phone vibrating, with her numb, ungloved hands she fished it out of her overcoat. Upon looking at the screen Mikasa read a message from her Aunt Kiyomi, who seemed curious to know how her favourite niece was doing on the colder side of the country, and whether she was going to watch the game that night. 

Roughly five seconds after Mikasa typed a response about how everything was fine, her foot either lost traction on the ground or hit a curb she couldn’t see. 

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat as she fell onto the snow, managing to be thrown forward to land on her knees. On the bright side, the impact was very much cushioned by the powder and didn’t hurt as much as she expected. On the not so bright side, she had dropped her phone and somehow it had disappeared underneath the white. 

And she really thought that learning French would be the most difficult part of moving to Montreal. 

On instinct, she allowed herself scream “FUCK!” just to let it all out. The second she let herself yell so loud that her throat began to strain, she immediately felt a lot better. Shortly after, she took in several slow breaths to actually calm herself down. 

Barely a few seconds passed before Mikasa heard a voice amongst the wind and the snow. 

“Tabernak!!! You alright!?!?”

Mikasa looked forward and saw Jean Kirschtein standing on the sidewalk. Without much regard to his own safety, he dashed towards her with surprising ease, showing off the uncanny ability to not bite it on the snow. 

Jean knelt down to her almost effortlessly as she began dusting powder off her jeans. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Mikasa insisted, though she was lying through her teeth. She was cold, wet, and very likely black and blue in places that she had no desire to be. Now more than ever did she desire the warm bath waiting for her just inside the building. 

“Did you see where my phone fell?” she asked, trying not to think of the gnarly bruises that were definitely forming on her knees. 

“Ah, let’s see…” Jean said, briefly inspecting the snow for any clues. Soon enough he spotted the red plastic of her phone case sticking out of the powder and reached for it. “Here it is!” 

When he handed it over she took it just as fast, quickly slipping it into her jacket’s inner pocket. 

“Thank you.” 

Jean smiled. “Bienvenue.”

He then stood up and offered a hand down to her, and for reasons she didn’t quite know Mikasa reached back. He held her with a firm grip as he got her back onto her feet. 

“Marde, this snow, right?” he remarked, looking at the white powder accumulating on every building on the street. “Came out of absolutely nowhere, didn’t it?” He shook some snowflakes off his cap. “Ah, calice…” 

Internally, Mikasa recognized a handful of the French that Jean so casually dropped. Her short time in the city had already familiarized her ears to the very peculiar — and often religiously themed — profanity only used in this part of the country. 

“Do you always swear… like that?” asked Mikasa as she brushed snow off her overcoat. 

Despite the weather, the darkness, and the chill of the situation, Jean’s friendly grin twisted into a smirk. “C’est correct.” 

Truth be told, Mikasa didn’t know Jean that well. She knew that he was one of Sasha’s closest guy friends buddies, a fellow grad student at McGill, and as Quebecois as they came. As much as he cursed, she did envy his ability to effortlessly slip between French and English — it only served to remind herself that her own grasp on the province’s official language was not as“bien” as she wanted it to be. 

She recalled Sasha mentioning that Jean was an aspiring architect, though Mikasa couldn’t envision him doing it. Perhaps the image of architects in her mind were restricted to clean-cut, bespectacled nerds who wore all black and slaved over drafting tables all day — not tall and bearded Quebecers who went around muttering “tabernacle” at every inconvenience.  

Speaking of which, Mikasa couldn’t help but notice the snowflakes accumulating in Jean’s facial hair. At the moment it was looking less like fashionable stubble and more like unkempt scruff, most of the length being on his chin and above his lips. She could remember him being mostly clean-shaven when they met months ago, perhaps the colder the weather got the thicker his beard would be. 

As she tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, Mikasa noticed something that she hadn’t seen due to her little tumble on the snow. 

“Why do you have a guitar case?” 

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Oh, just delivering this to Sasha,” he explained, reaching back to touch the instrument currently hanging from his back. “She wants to borrow it, there’s this whole open mic night thing she wants to do. You should come, it’s uh… popping, as the kids say.” 

As he spoke, Mikasa could hear the traces of his Quebecois accent on his voice. She was getting used to hearing it the longer she lived in the city, but Jean’s in particular was becoming distinct to her. 

“Sounds fun,” Mikasa replied in a voice that sounded anything but. 

With her place only a few steps away, she said nothing else before continuing her trudge through the snow. Jean followed her, his longer legs making it easier for him to stomp through the constant piles of powder covering the sidewalks. 

“It’s a good thing I ran into you,” he remarked, putting his hands inside his coat pockets. 

“Why? So you could play the hero?” she retorted, her voice sounding a little more acrimonious than she intended. 

“Uh… no,” Jean stammered out. The grin of confidence on his face seemed to falter. “I'm just relieved that I don’t need to text Sasha to let me in. Last time I did that she left me on read for ten minutes.” 

“That’s odd,” Mikasa hummed. “She always answers when it’s me.” 

Jean raised one of his eyebrows. “Really?! Tabarnak! I’ve known her longer!”

Now it was Mikasa’s turn to smirk, though perhaps that wasn’t the right word for it. She wasn’t a smiler in general, so whenever she was amused she would simply blow air out of her nose as the corners of her lips ever so slightly turned up. 

“Guess she just likes me more,” Mikasa replied, knowing full well that she had only known the brunette for three months. 

Jean managed to remain lighthearted as he chuckled. “Well, there is a lot to like.”

For a brief second Mikasa eyed him oddly. “Huh?”

“Huh?” Jean repeated, meeting her eyes for a second. 

But before either one of them could say anything else, they finally arrived at Mikasa's apartment complex, a place that could exist on many aesthetically-pleasing “Visit Montreal” brochures when it wasn’t currently being tormented by the gods of winter. Jean was quick to scale the snow-covered steps, swiftly arriving at the top before turning around and offering his hand again. 

“Aweille!” he exclaimed, then smiled again — this time it was softer. His voice then took a playful tone. “Come on, the West Coaster has to master our winters somehow.” 

Mikasa rolled her eyes and scoffed. “For your information I’m from Vancouver, not Los Angeles.”  

Despite her willingness to sass the tall Quebecer aiding her in the cold, she took his hand anyway. Besides, without her gloves touching him was much preferable to touching the frigid side railings. 

Jean chuckled again as he slowly helped her up the steps, barrages of powder collecting on their ankles as they went. 

“Oh yeah? And how often does Vancouver get snow like this?” he asked. “Once every decade, là?” 

Mikasa was not going to dignify his question with a response, but a part of her wondered how Jean would fare on her side of the country. While it was true that her hometown didn’t often make the residents fear the wrath of frostbite, Vancouver did grace its people with excessive amounts of rain. It would certainly amuse her to see Jean running around as droplets and wind hit him from every direction. 

Nonetheless, Mikasa still held Jean’s hand as she ascended the steps. She had only touched him for a few seconds, expecting him to be as cold as ice yet somehow he was warm. He wasn’t even wearing gloves. One could wonder how he did it. 

Once the two were at the top, Mikasa opened the door and let him follow behind her. It took a short walk in the hallway for the pair to reach the apartment, yet she couldn’t stop herself from shivering with every step.

Fortunately, the Ackerman-Braus residence was warm — opening the door and entering the living room was like being accepted into the arms of the gods. 

Mikasa wasted no time in removing her wet coat, letting the garment hang and dry as she took off her boots. When she glanced at the living room she spotted Sasha sitting on the couch like the productive vet student she was. She brunette was lounging in her bunny slippers and already holding a guitar, currently strumming a jaunty tune that made Mikasa remember that she originally hailed from some small town in Alberta. 

Beside her Mikasa watched Jean removing his own boots before walking into the living room.

When Sasha laid eyes on her two friends, she broke out into a smile so cheery that one could forget the snowstorm outside. 

“Hey, Roomie!” she greeted. “Hey, Jeanbo!” 

Mikasa gave a shy wave as Jean approached his friend on the couch.

“Jeanbo?” he scoffed, one eyebrow raised. “What are you? My mother?” 

There was a beat of silence while Mikasa wondered when Jean would notice the elephant in the room. Sure enough, just as she took off her socks she saw Jean’s normally confident smirk shift into a face of utter confusion. 

“Sasha… you have a guitar already?!?!!!” 

“Hm?” Sasha blinked, having not noticed the case on her friend’s back. “Oh, yeah! Niccolo had one and he just brought it over for me! Am I dating the biggest fucking sweetie or what?” 

“Mais pourquoi diable me fait ça?!?” Jean exclaimed. Somehow, he managed to communicate his ire without raising his voice to a shout. “Sasha, I came all the way from Griffintown to bring this to you!”

Sasha furrowed her brow and touched her finger to her chin. “Hmmm… now that you mention it, I knew I was forgetting something…” 

The groan that Jean let out was over dramatic and comical. Even Mikasa couldn’t deny the amusement in his antics, smiling very minutely as she walked barefoot across the living room. 

As Jean broke out into French to better express his frustration to his friend, Mikasa approached her bedroom. The last thing she heard before slipping inside was Sasha sassing Jean back in his first language. 

Though closing her door muffled the conversation between the friends, Mikasa could already envision the colourful argument the two were having. She was aware that Jean and Sasha knew each other for years — that the true testament to their being the many dramatic squabbles they could have while still remaining close. Usually, they quarreled over hockey games and whether IPAs were just beers that tasted even worse, but today they seemed very keen on debating the ethics of making a friend trudge through heavy snowfall for nothing. 

Moments passed as Mikasa changed out of her clothes and into something more dry. Once she tossed her water-logged leggings and cardigan into her hamper, she pulled on her bathrobe before grabbing a spare towel from her closet. She dried off her long dark hair just as she sat at her desk. 

Like most overworked grad students, she spent a moment answering the emails in the inbox, replying to the few that she had the emotional energy to handle before leaving the rest for later. While Professor Dietrich was as much as a strict hard-ass as his reputation foretold, he was a lot nicer to the grad students he advised, especially when emailing them after-hours. He even ended his message by asking her how she was adjusting to the weather, which made Mikasa nearly recount her struggle to climb her own goddamn staircase. 

In the end, she ended up saying that everything was okay, even if it was a dirty lie. Professor Dietrich really didn’t need to know how his Grad Advisee absolutely ate shit less than ten minutes ago. 

Mikasa then left her bedroom with one thing on her mind only. When she entered the living room she expected to see Sasha on the couch again, strumming her guitar to her heart’s content, but instead she was greeted to the sight of Jean. 

He had removed his coat and hat to sit at the island near the kitchen. His demeanor was relaxed as held a pencil over a pocket-sized sketchbook. In the short time she had known him she knew that he seemed to travel with at least one, whether to keep his hands busy or pass the time when he was bored. It certainly wasn’t the worst habit in the world, as the little sketch of Sasha pinned to the fridge could attest. 

Though Mikasa couldn’t imagine what in the kitchen was worth drawing. In fact, there was still some pesto on the ceiling from the time she and Sasha got polished off a box of wine and tried to make themselves dinner. 

There was a beat, then Jean looked up from his paper and met her gaze with his. 

“Hey.”

She only had the energy to give him a single nod, “Hey.” 

Being used to Jean’s presence in the place, she stepped towards the door to the bathroom, only to discover that said door was locked. 

Grumbling, Mikasa frowned as she restlessly fidgeted with the material of her bathrobe. “God, how much can one woman shit?” 

Jean chuckled as Mikasa went to the kitchen. She began filling the kettle with water before turning to the guest currently sitting at the island. 

“I’m making tea, would you like some?” 

He nodded. “Sure.” 

As Mikasa turned on the electric kettle, she noticed that the oven seemed to be preheating, then glanced at Jean with a curious eye. 

“Are you cooking something?”

He shook his head. “No, Sasha is — to repay me for coming all this way she’s making me dinner.” He let out a lighthearted chuckle, then went back to whatever he was sketching in his book. “And no worries, I’ll be out of your hair soon after.” 

Mikasa shrugged as she reached for the cupboard near the fridge. “Doesn’t bother me.” 

As Mikasa browsed her and Sasha’s exceedingly well-stocked tea cupboard, Jean continued to speak behind her, his smalltalk turning into a soothing background noise as she selected her leaves. Right now she was in a blueberry mood. 

Jean continued to doodle, but occasionally glanced up to watch her dropping spoonfuls of leaves into a cast iron teapot. “So… what do you have planned tonight? More depressing grad school struggles?” 

“I was going to draw myself a bath, but I suppose I’m doing that later,” Mikasa mumbled, then sighed. “And I was hoping to watch a baseball game…” 

“You a Blue Jays fan?” he asked, sounding both curious and surprised.

“Dodgers,” she clarified, shaking her head. “Ever since they signed Shohei Ohtani.” 

Jean hummed. “Interesting.” 

She only looked mildly puzzled at his response. “What is?” 

He was quick to notice the peculiar way she was eyeing him, then let out another chuckle, this one being laced with just a bit more fretfulness. “You just…” he started, then ran a hand through his ashy hair. “...didn’t strike me as a sports fan.” 

Mikasa scoffed. “I’m into sports that interest me.” 

“I guess hockey isn’t one of them?” 

Once more she shook her head. “Not my thing.” 

She didn’t have to explain it to him. She was okay with the sport, but it just didn’t intrigue and allure her the way baseball did. Truth be told, she just couldn’t see the appeal in a bunch of men chasing a puck across a sheet of ice. Perhaps if her Aunt Kiyomi had invited her to the living room to watch more hockey with her as a child, as opposed to making sure Mikasa knew the names of every Japanese expatriate currently playing for the MLB, then maybe things would be different. It did feel isolating to discover that most people in Montreal only cared for sports involving ice. 

After a few moments the kettle finally brought the water to a boil and Mikasa poured it into her pot. As the tea began to brew she procured two mugs from the cupboard and set them down, then behind her she heard Jean letting out a hum.

“It’s a shame,” he started, his pencil scratching against the paper of his sketchbook once more. “And here Sasha was hoping you’d come to the next Canadiens game.” 

To that Mikasa looked at Jean with a surprised look on her pretty face.

“I mean… I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to it…” she admitted. Especially if there were people she knew there like Sasha, of course, but perhaps Jean as well. 

It would be amusing to witness Sasha drunkenly heckling a referee at an actual game. Seeing her scream at the TV with a beer in hand was fun, but lacked a certain kick. 

Mikasa set a timer as the tea brewed. During the time she glanced at the window near the kitchen and noted that even more snow seemed to have fallen in the span of a few minutes. She let out a sound that was somewhere between a grumble and a sigh before affixing her vision elsewhere. 

She looked to Jean, taking in the focus in his eyes as he continued to sketch. She noted that without his coat he was currently sporting some kind of waistcoat over a slightly ill-fitting shirt, both garments hanging loosely over his slender frame. The top buttons on his oxford had been left undone, exposing the top of his chest very slightly. 

A part of her wondered why she hadn’t expected him to don such a look, while another part of her wondered why she was paying so much attention to it. 

Before she could dwell on things for too long the timer on her phone rang and Mikasa went to fetch the tea. She was quick to pour some out for Jean and herself. When she brought his mug over to the island she took note of the smile on his face, their fingers grazing ever so slightly as she handed it over. 

Like before he was warm, but perhaps the tea had something to do with it. 

“Merci.”

For a moment, Mikasa tried to recall the exact way the Quebecois said “You’re Welcome” before finally saying — 

“Bien.”

The visible confusion on Jean’s face made Mikasa internally cringe and seriously contemplate taking a vow of silence for the foreseeable future. 

Fortunately, before Mikasa could get too wrapped up in her embarrassment, she looked to the counter and caught a glimpse of Jean’s sketchbook. The subject currently scribbled on the page made her do a double take. 

“Is that…” 

Jean looked at the little drawing of Mikasa he had made in the short span of time. For a brief moment he looked sheepish, possibly embarrassed to have been caught in such an act. But soon he swallowed whatever fear was inside of him to hold up his sketchbook.

“Oh, yeah…” he started, taking a deep breath to recollect himself. He handed her his sketchbook, their fingers grazing again. “It’s basically finished so uh… thoughts?” 

Mikasa took in Jean’s drawing, noticing the delicate way he had depicted her glassy eyes, pointed chin, and daintier features. He even managed to include the scar just under her right eye, a remnant of the time she tried to ride a Great Dane as a child and the dog reacted accordingly. He had depicted her during a moment of thought, where her usually dull eyes looked more pensive than usual. 

She knew that Jean was good, but seeing him create an image of her so quickly with a shitty pencil felt like something else entirely. No one had ever sketched her before. 

“It’s very nice,” she told him, her usual monotone sounding a lot softer than usual. When she met his eyes she could see the slightest gleam in them, then felt her heart skip a beat as Jean managed another smile. 

“I’m glad you think so.” Once more he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m always glad to hear that my art minor wasn’t a waste of time.”

Jean let out a chuckle, then stood up from the counter. He walked to the other side to take his sketchbook again. Mikasa watched as he gently tore his drawing from the book. 

“It seemed only fitting,” he said as he used a magnet to pin the new sketch next to the one of Sasha. 

There was something amusing about a drawing of Sasha beaming like an idiot hanging next to a drawing of Mikasa looking thoughtful and introspective. In a way it summed up both their personalities and perfectly encapsulated how they held themselves throughout the day. 

“You’re really talented,” Mikasa decided to say. As she stood next to Jean now she noticed their height difference a lot more. 

Jean seemed to be blushing and avoided her gaze, preferring to look at the floor. “You’re just saying that.” 

She shook her head. “I mean it.” 

A brief moment of silence followed, a tense wordlessness existing between the pair. When Jean managed to glance at her again, only a few more seconds passed before they were interrupted.

The sound of the bathroom door opening was heard, garnering the attention of the two grad students. 

Sasha entered the living area with ease, grinning at both her roommate and her friend without a care in the world. 

“Now what are you two crazy kids up to?” Sasha asked with her usual goofy grin and distinct lack of tact. 

Mikasa swore that she heard Jean grumble as she reached for her mug of tea and walked away from the fridge. Just like before he ran a hand through his hair, effectively messing it and making him look even more scruffy. 

“Just talking,” she answered quickly. Her mind refocused on her initial priority now that there was nothing stopping her from running a bath now. 

Without another word she moved past Sasha and made her way to the bathroom. Parts of it felt rude, but she wasn’t going to deny herself the warmth she had been craving for the last hour. 

But before she could close the door she caught a glimpse of her roommate and her roommate’s friend, both currently standing in the kitchen of her apartment. Somehow she noticed the slightly saddened look on Jean’s face just before she shut the door behind her. 

…

…

…

Once Mikasa was gone Jean let out a sigh, rubbing his face as he walked back to the counter and sat. He could feel just the slightest bits of sweat forming on his forehead, something he hoped hadn’t been obvious during the last few moments. 

As he grabbed his mug of tea he glanced over to Sasha, who was fortunately none the wiser to what had just transpired. As to be expected she went straight to the fridge, grabbing a hefty cluster of grapes to munch on as she cooked her buddy dinner. 

But just as she shut the door she noticed the extra drawing pinned onto the fridge, the one that hadn’t been there before and depicted her Mikasa looking calm, quiet, and in the midst of an existential crisis with various strokes of graphite. She had known Jean enough to recognize the way he could sketch, as well as the way he viewed the budding botanist who paid half the rent. 

Letting out a sharp scoff, Sasha turned to Jean with the smarmy smile on her dumb face. 

Smartly — or at least, as smartly as Sasha could get — she slipped into French to avoid the risk of certain things being heard through the walls. 

“So… are you going to ask her out soon or what?” Sasha asked. “I mean, you’ve only been eyeing her from the second you met.” 

Jean grabbed the bottle of honey that was always on the counter and tried to act like her words held no weight. 

“No comment.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time a friend of mine dates my roommate,” Sasha pointed out. Without missing a beat she popped a grape into her mouth and continued to speak. “Remember Historia? I swear, Ymir was on that from minute one.” 

“I wouldn’t want to bother her,” Jean reasoned. In his mind and heart he knew that a pestering suitor would be the last thing Mikasa wanted. She seemed so focused on other things — mainly her research and just surviving — that putting anything else on to that platter just seemed unwise. 

And he didn’t want to ruin whatever rapport they had. As gut-wrenchingly beautiful as she was, he still enjoyed the simple pleasure of being her friend. Even if his heart would beat just a bit faster when he stopped by or saw her at the university, he was content to keep things the way they were. In a way maybe that was all she needed — for all he knew Montreal was still new to her, so perhaps having a tall and dashingly handsome Quebecer around was just what she needed to make the city feel more manageable.

“She’s…” Jean tried to say, his mind thinking of the right thought to vocalize. “She’s lovely though.” 

And to that Sasha chuckled. “Oh, I know.” She stuffed another grape into her mouth. “I see the way you… erm… look at her.” 

Jean avoided her gaze as he squeezed a healthy serving of honey into his tea. As much as he liked Sasha, he had learned the hard way that giving her ammunition of any kind would explode in his face. He really didn’t need his closest female friend meddling with his love life for a third time. 

So to that he replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sasha could only roll her eyes. “If you say, Jeanbo. If you say so.”

[hopeymchope]

The riveting, disturbing world of 'Babylon'

I just finished the anime 'Babylon' from 2019, and my mind was all kinds of messed up by it. Honestly, after all the horrific and edgelord-y crap I've seen in anime/manga, it's sort of comforting to know that I'm still capable of being shaken and unnerved by some of this shit.

The title is generic AF, so let me give you a brief overview: Babylon is 12-episode anime series adapting a trilogy of novels by Mado Nozaki. Note that these are full-on novels, not light novels — but they aren't available in English as of me writing this. So for that reason, I can't speak to how adapting each novel into four half-hour episodes was handled. I'm sure that numerous cuts had to be made. I can only speak to what I know of the novels from other people who've read them. I'll get into some of that a lot later on.

The story focuses on Japanese public prosecutor Zen Seizaki, who starts out the series investigating false advertising at a pharmaceutical company before stumbling into a conspiracy that initially seems to be manipulating his city's politics. But Zen digs deeper still, and he finds it's far worse than just that. Countless lives are on the line, and humanity's shared moral compass faces a huge possible shift that appears to be occurring naturally... but the spread of this new perspective is, in actuality, FAR from natural. One character likens the events to "ideological terrorism," and that strikes me as a pretty good summary. Ultimately, the antagonists are technically — at least in all visible senses — moving within the confines of the law to enact their intentions. In that case, what can government authorities, lawyers, and police do to stem the tide?

The series doesn't try to argue that government authority is 'innocent' or 'incorruptible' in ANY way... but it does seem to believe that figures of authority USUALLY play by the established rules of legality. .... At least in Japan.

So hey, let's start up front with some exciting news: It's an anime about adult characters living adult lives and doing adult jobs! And despite that, it's not an office romance, NOR is it a romance between an adult and a teenager or ANY of that stuff! Shit — this isn't even a comedy! That puts 'Babylon' somewhere around "EPIC" in terms of anime rarity. Every episode begins with a content warning and a suicide prevention hotline number. That should give you some fucking idea of how dark we're going here. But the primary focus of 'Babylon' isn't revealed until the very end of episode 3. So... I'll give you the chance to bow out right now if you don't want to know the exact nature of the threat. It's hard for me to discuss it in too much depth without spoiling it. I won't spoil anything OTHER than the major subject matter revealed at the end of episode 3, though!

You still here? The content warning hints at the most important component of the story: The central focus is on suicide. Specifically, is suicide inherently immoral? Or should people have the right to decide when their lives end? Is there any gray in the middle of that? Etc. Suffice it to say that there's a major trigger warning for suicide in this series. Not only because characters kill themselves with disturbing regularity, but because there are also multiple scenes that are just long philosophical debates about when suicide is or isn't moral... as well as who or what defines the guidelines of our personal and societal morality, is there any such thing as pure good or pure evil, etc.

And I'm not complaining — these scenes are really interesting! Although characters do tend to take WAY too long to bring up really obvious aspects of these debates for my taste. Like, when someone raises the question of why suicide is illegal, it takes multiple episodes of off-and-on chit-chat before someone cracks wise about how you can't exactly prosecute or arrest someone who commits suicide FOR OBVIOUS REASONS. I'm not sure why that wasn't the FIRST thing to come up, but I guess I just think differently than this author. (FYI: Another character points out that the matter of 'legality' extends to whether police and emergency services are compelled to stop/respond to possible suicide threats, if you're curious how the ongoing debate is justified.)

Some of the heady debates are portrayed via trippy-ass visuals that only we, the viewers at home, can see. Which is kind of goofy, but it's an interesting way to keep things from becoming too static during the philosophical discussions.

Clearly, they're not shying away from tough topics. But the side in favor of allowing people to commit suicide is hardly playing fair, either. They're forcing the issue in the worst possible way: Controlling people to kill themselves, convincing fucking CHILDREN to kill themselves, and more. So as a viewer, you obviously WANT them to lose the debate. But they aren't entirely arguing without merit, either. That's part of what makes it so disturbing: Sometimes they make some horrible kind of sense.

The elements that make the series discomforting aren't just in the subject matter discussed or in the touchy debates. The primary antagonist (or... are they?) is... oof. How can I describe them without spoiling anything about their identity and what they do? Suffice to say that their abilities border on supernatural, and as the series progresses, those abilities become increasingly impossible to counter. Apparently they are framed as being explicitly NOT supernatural in the novels, but in this anime, they appear to lean closer to being some kind of superpower — a really gross and upsetting one.

To make matters worse, before we see this antagonist fully utilize their abilities, the experience of being on the receiving end of their powers is compared to fucking rape in a way that... really made me feel like it was justifying objectification of human beings - even underage ones!!!! - as nothing more than sex objects. Like, it actually PISSED ME OFF. But... look, I gave the show some time to justify its bullshit, and I'm glad I did — that conversation became much less offensive in retrospect, after we learn/see a lot of said antagonist's true nature. (Note that I said it became less offensive. It is still disturbing as all hell, which is the intended response.)

You can tell that I'm STILL trying to avoid a lot of spoilers in this thing. There's just so many twists and turns, and it's consistently extremely compelling stuff. I don't know that they entirely stick the landing on this bird, though...

There's just too many questions left open at the end for my taste. Too many hanging chads. What are the motivations of our antagonists? One of them — the one who appears on-screen the most — at least appears to be the "just want to watch the world burn" type, though even THAT is pretty unclear. And the other major antagonist is kept mysterious for the entire run! They serve as a major figurehead for a pro-suicide movement, and we have no flippin' idea what their motives are! Furthermore, the series ends on what could be called "ambiguous" at best or "a goddamned cliffhanger" at worst.

And there are no more books! The author has written other books since completing this trilogy and has given no indication of ever intending to go back! It just... leaves us there, twisting in the wind!

KNOW THIS: The post-credits scene in the last episode was made up for the anime by the anime production team. Nothing like exists in the original novels or the manga or anywhere else. You might as well consider it non-canon. Which is great news, because it sucks all the life out of the preceding confrontation.

But even with all that baggage, I can't say I wasn't riveted. I can't stay I don't recommend it, honestly. It's very well done up until that point. And I don't even completely hate the ending! ... Maybe I just hate the post-credits scene, I guess. ..... No, WAIT, we sit through multiple episodes of a character pondering their position on the suicide issue, only for their big moment of revelation to be... LITERALLY THE FIRST THING I THOUGHT OF AS A COUNTER-ARGUMENT TO THE VILLAINS. So that. Yeah. That kinda sucked.

But the actual climactic scene? The final moments? They're engrossing... and open to interpterion in a way that isn't without merit!

Oh, and consider this: The manga version of the story? It ends on the second novel, concluding with a much happier version of the events that wrap up that part of the story here. There is no third novel — that final part where the stakes become global never arises. Sadly, I don't think the manga adaption has ever been translated into English. But if you find a scanlation or something, let me know! I'd like to see the happier ending. At least I'd feel more closure than I got here.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Interlude Chapter 2

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Master Post

After quickly speaking to the rest of the group, Englehart did the best he could to organize an impromptu ceremony. Ideally this would have been done in the Singing Storm Tower, but he recognized that Dragoslava and Kresimira had been using the vast libraries inside it in addition to things not being ready. Plus it was a nice day out. The royal mages set up a series of magic broadcasting devices and the king snapped his fingers to dispel the storm around the tower. There was no need for it now. The group lined up with the nobles and the royal guard as audience. People nearby even paused what they were doing to watch.

“Are we on the air, as you youngsters say?” The king asked.

“Give us one second… and… There! We should be good to go, your majesty” one of the royal mages replied.

Englehart cleared his throat. “Most excellent. Greetings everyone. If you are busy, feel free to continue your work. Listening in will suffice. It has been years since we last set foot in our glorious city and… well, I should’ve recognized that the great hunt was just a ruse. All of you have my greatest apologies for that blunder. Thankfully the Source smiled upon us and delivered a group of valiant protectors to safeguard the Iron City.”

Radovan spoke next. “Yes indeed. Leading the group were my daughters and Barna’s son, Corentin. I cannot begin to express how proud of our children we are. Of course they weren’t alone. Drago rescued Desislav Robles, a proud satyr who looked after the three and assisted them greatly. Following that was Blood-Wraith, the newest member of the Raynot family. His unyielding bravery despite his age was invaluable. And it is an honor to know that Tusk Willfort, son of Sigmund Willfort, joined the team to tutor Blood and even gave his own arm to stop the Lich. An unexpected addition, Vlastimir Dracul, lent his blade during the darkest hour and helped turn the tide of battle. As for Ekaterina and Vexation, they have sworn fealty to the king despite having previously served our enemy. We welcome them with open arms…”

“If I may speak, father…” Blood-Wraith jumped in. “...we couldn’t have done this without Lief.” A tear ran down his cheek.

Radovan smiled. “Right you are, Blood. Ladies and Gentlemen, one hero could not be with us today. The Dragon of Old made the battle with the Lich his final act before passing on, "Wherever he is now, may he rest in peace.”

“His deeds shall not go in vain” Englehart continued. “The fight with Dunja is not over, but for now we can rest easy knowing that we are united with some of the bravest and finest souls we have ever seen. Kresimira, Corentin, Dragoslava, Desislav, Blood-Wraith, Tusk, Vlastimir, Ekaterina, Vexation, and Leif: Thank you for everything that you have done.” With that, the audience applauded and cheered. This made the group feel warm and triumphant.

After some closing remarks, everyone returned to their homes. Vlastimir and Ekaterina were the exception, but Englehart invited them to stay in the tower for the time being. Over at Blood-Wraith’s house, he was sitting in the living room with Aureolus and Vexation. He was crying, but this was out of joy for all that he had done. The other two expected this. Upon getting his emotions out, Blood-Wraith composed himself and was able to speak properly again. Vexation was a bit concerned, however. How this boy was able to handle all of that was beyond him at the moment.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Blood?” Aureolus asked.

“If you need to talk about your feelings further, you’re more than welcome to do so” Vexation proposed.

Blood-Wraith sniffled. “No, I’m alright now… that was just a lot to take in.”

“Well don’t worry about people showing up out of the blue. A lot want to thank you personally, but uncle Englehart asked everyone to give you some space” Aureolus assured.

“Really? Oh well, I don’t think…” Blood-Wraith was cut off by the door bell ringing.

“Now who could that be? I hope that it’s something important…” Vexation wondered.

“Come in…” Blood-Wraith called out.

Standing in the doorway was a 5’5 foot tall tree person with long hair and two horns… who promptly rushed over to Blood-Wraith. “Mr. Fire!” She exclaimed as she hugged and swung him around. “Oops, sorry. I should probably call you Blood now…”

“Hey, Auda! Is that… is… you’re so tall now! I… have we been gone for that long?”

She laughed. “Ha, no. It’s just that… um, Blood… I’m actually 12 years old.” She set him down. “That mean, old Lich had me all scared to grow up… but you fixed that, hehe.”

“Fascinating…” Vexation quietly remarked.

Blood-Wraith nodded in acceptance. “Well that makes two of us that have changed.”

“Yeah! I can see that. Maybe I should try that ULTRAMagic-thingy too… Speaking of that, I came here to get Uncle Tusk. Grandpa wants to see him. Want to come along?”

“Oh, sure… wait! Auda, this is Aureolus and Vexation. Aureolus? Vex? This is Auda. She’s Tusk’s niece.”

“Hi there!” Aureolus welcomed.

Vexation shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same here. Alright, Blood, let’s go. Grandpa’s also eager to see you again!”

Tusk was waiting nearby with a cab hailed by Radovan. They were swiftly driven to the edge of the city where they began their walk to The Unending Forest. Tusk felt weird going back so soon as he carried his backpack full of scrolls and books. He did not want to argue with his father’s wishes, however. This was great for Blood-Wraith as he wanted to tell Sigmund about his plans. As for Auda, she was happy to have her uncle back home. She did not want him to go away for too long.

Sigmund was waiting at the gates of the village. “Tusk, my boy! When I said you needed to do something with yourself, I didn’t mean go out and save the entire Cosmos, haha! Come here!” He gave him a big hug. “You’ve done your old man proud!”

“Thanks, dad… Can I come home now? I got a bunch of stuff to read and study…”

“Of course you can. What happened to your arm though?”

Tusk looked at his stone arm once again. “It’s complicated and something I will never do again.”

Sigmund sighed. “Well either way, come on in, all of you. And Blood! You must tell me all about your ULTRAMagic.”

The three followed the chief, with various villagers warmly greeting Tusk and Blood-Wraith. “Chief, there’s something I want to do…”

“And what’s that, Blood?” Sigmund asked as he let the three into his home.

“I’m going to the Magician’s Labyrinth to find my mother. And while I’m there, I’m going to locate Tusk’s mother.”

Sigmund looked at Blood-Wraith with shock. “He’s serious, dad,” Tusk stated.

“By the gods, boy, even after all you just went through?” Sigmund questioned.

Auda was surprised. “Whoa, you think you can find grandma Thora, Blood?”

Blood-Wraith swallowed. “Yes. Yes I do. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Sigmund pondered his thoughts on the matter. “You’ll need help, preferably someone that’s been there before…”

Everyone thought about who it could be. Blood-Wraith then had an idea. “Oh! Drago and Kresimira have mentioned Brenna Thompson. She helped escort us back to the city.”

“Yes, I have heard of her adventures, especially to the Magician’s Labyrinth. She’s even been to the village a few times before” Sigmund recalled.

“I’ll go too!” Auda blurted out.

“Oh no you don’t, young lady.”

“Agreed. No, it’s way too dangerous” Tusk added.

Donia then walked into the room. “Ha, good luck trying to stop her…”

“Donia, there you are. What took you so long, lass?” Sigmund asked.

“Sorry, I had to clean up an experiment. Tusk, sweetie, what happened to your arm?”

Tusk went over and hugged her tightly. “Sorry about that, Donia. Things got complicated. That was… That was scary…”

After some much needed consoling, the five sat down and discussed Blood-Wraith’s plans. Sigmund knew Thora was still alive. He could sense her as they spoke. What she was doing was unclear and so was the why. Thora was known for getting sidetracked, but this must have been truly momentous to cause her to forget her mission. Originally she went to the Magician’s Labyrinth to find answers to the problem with the Lich. Her failure to return shook the village and made the future uncertain. Tusk took it the hardest…

“Knowing what I found in the Unspeaker’s libraries, I can’t say I blame mom for whatever she found…”

“What do you think it could be?” Blood-Wraith inquired.

Sigmund stroked his beard. “The Forest and I have speculated on this. It believes she encountered Rose Raynot who may have stumbled on Deimos’ old research. What that is eludes us, however. The Forest dares not find out.”

Donia glanced at Tusk’s books. “Hey, Tusk… you wouldn’t have happened to…”

“If the answer is in those, I have yet to find it.”

“Grandma and Mrs. Raynot probably found a new Unlight to explore” Auda put forth.

“Rose is a duchess, sweetie,” Donia clarified.

“Whoops, sorry, hehe…”

They talked for a bit longer until dinner time rolled around. Sigmund invited Blood-Wraith to eat with them, but he needed to get back to the city. Still, he encouraged Blood-Wraith to bring the group along sometime so he could commemorate them in his own ceremony. Not wanting to bother anyone, Blood-Wraith took on his dragon form once he was out of the forest and flew back to his home. Many saw this and were amazed at his abilities. At the house were Aureolus and Vexation who were waiting for him.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Blood, dad wants us to eat over at his place” Aureolus replied.

“Mr. Schindewolf was most insistent,” Vexation confirmed.

That was fine with him. Aureolus led the two to a large, barn-like building and knocked on a door at the side. They were greeted by Corentin. “Hey there, come on in. Mind the mess and watch your feet…” There were tools, abandoned projects, forges, anvils, and bags of coal all over the place. The four made their way to a set of stairs that took them to the upper loft. Things were still a bit messy, but were a lot more homey. The guests sat down in the living room which overlooked the workshop. It was a pretty nice view all things considered. Corentin then switched places with his father, who had been in the kitchen.

“Hello, lads, glad you all could make it. You’ll have to forgive the clutter. I was in the middle of an order when the great hunt started.”

“That’s quite understandable, Mr. Schindewolf…”

“Ah, no need to be formal, Vex. You can call me by my name.”

“As you wish, Barna. I must say that I’m quite impressed with your projects, despite their unfinished state.”

“Really now? Well thanks. You fancy yourself a blacksmith?”

“No, but I did work with The Blacksmith of Old on occasion. Your work is very reminiscent of his.”

Barna nodded. “Ah, I see. As for tonight’s dinner, how does pulled pork, mashed potatoes, and seasoned steamed vegetables sound?” Everyone liked this.

“Hey, Barna? Does your blacksmithing make use of magic?” Blood-Wraith inquired.

“It can and I’m glad you asked. Blood, I’d like to teach you and Aureolus some of my alchemical skills, if you’d be interested.”

Blood-Wraith thought about this for a moment. “Sure, that’d be great. Aureolus?”

“Yup. I mean, dad has already shown me some cool stuff already, ha.”

“Father! Food’s done” Corentin called out.

“Very good, dining table’s right over there, lads. Just let Corentin know what you’ll drink and we’ll get started.” Barna hurried into the kitchen as the three seated themselves, ready to eat.

Next: Chapter 3

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)