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cas-kingdom · 3 years

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Tricky

A/N: Because Neal Caffrey would be the best big brother.

Title: Tricky

Summary: You’re sick and tired of Neal constantly doing things to land himself in prison.

Words: 2390

You knew your brother was tricky.

You’d be an idiot not to know it.

He was Neal Caffrey, after all, and your entire life he’d been stealing and thieving, robbing and running, never really having the time to stop.

You’d asked him once why he’d never just dropped you off on the door of someone’s house and go on about his own life, free of his baby sister, free of the weight on his shoulders, but he’d told you to stop being silly and had moved onto another subject entirely.

Peter had asked him as well, though. Not when you’d been nearby. It’d been on a night the man had come over to June’s for a drink with Neal, and they’d gone out to the balcony and left the door wide open. They’d thought you had been asleep, but you hadn’t, and you’d heard Peter ask your brother more or less the same question.

“Because she’s mine,” Neal had responded, just loud enough for you to hear. “My sister. My responsibility. My kid, you know? She had no one else. I had no one else. And my life was a... crap thing for her to be involved in... I know that. But I couldn’t let her go, Peter. I don’t know if that was selfishness on my side, but I couldn’t. And I’m glad I never did. If I’m at all sane, it’s because of her.”

You’d been able to sleep peacefully after that.

It hadn’t been that you’d feared the answer. More that you’d simply wondered if the thought had ever crossed his mind. Living the crime-high life surely wasn’t as easy with a child tailing him every step he took. Of course, Mozzie and Kate had helped, especially when he’d gone to prison, but since he’d been out and he’d somehow managed to persuade Peter he was capable of caring for his sixteen-year-old sister himself, it’d just been him and you. And Mozzie. But Mozzie was always there.

In the four years you had been apart from your brother, however, you’d learnt a lot. The ideals of the human, crime-free life. What it felt like to live in one place, despite the fact that one place wasn’t with Neal. What it felt like to not be in constant fear of the police and FBI chasing you around the world...

So, somehow, much to Peter’s satisfaction, you’d been the one person keeping your brother on the almost straight and slightly narrow since his release from prison. Or, rather, escape.

In a way, his job working for the FBI and newfound life meant he’d been given a second chance. To spend time with you that wasn’t limited or uncertain. And it was something the both of them had not taken for granted.

But, Neal Caffrey was tricky, and you knew it.

You hadn’t seen him take the key to his anklet, but then you never did. He’d once taken a slice of birthday cake right out from under your nose and had been so good a liar you’d blamed it on Mozzie for five minutes until the slice magically appeared again, a bite taken from it.

You’d still blamed Mozzie.

Now, you knew better.

And you’d thought that after four years in prison, Neal would more or less know better, too.

But the moment he’d found out Fowler might have been the cause of Kate’s death, he’d taken his anklet’s key from his pocket. It’d been a waiting game for him. You hadn’t even known he’d taken it.

The both of you had been at home. You were sat at the table, scrolling mindlessly through irrelevant articles on your laptop to pass the time. Neal had been out on the balcony, but he’d strolled in a moment ago, and the second you absently flicked your eyes up to look at him, you saw him pull the key from his pocket.

“What’s that?” you asked, knowing full well what it was. You sat up straight in the chair.

Neal paused, turning his head as though he’d forgotten you were there. “Uh-” He lifted his foot- “nothing, Y/N.”

You shook your head, standing to your feet. “That’s the key to your anklet,” you said. “When the hell did you get that?”

Neal was quiet. He put the key to the anklet and slipped it off. “Look,” he said, putting it on the table, “it doesn’t matter. Just- stay here.”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you did. Your face was a picture of something between fury and disbelief as you took long strides until you were standing between him and the door.

“What are you doing, Neal?” you asked, and Neal gave your a look, clearly sighing through his nose. “Does Peter know?”

“Of course he doesn’t-” He shut his eyes for a brief moment and took a step forward. “Could you just-”

“No!”

“Y/N.”

“I said no!” Your hands were balled at your sides and your brother straightened, lips pressed tightly together. It wasn’t often you clashed. You were the best of friends. Peter often called you, including Mozzie, the three musketeers.

But when you clashed, you clashed.

“You can’t do this, Neal,” you told him, a harsh edge to your tone.

Neal didn’t have much of a temper, but it was rising by the second. “Do what, Y/N?” he asked.

“Risk your life! Again!”

“I’m not risking my life-”

“Yes, you are! You’re risking it all and you don’t realise you’re risking me, too!”

Neal was a little taken back by that. His eyebrows furrowed and he had no time to respond before you suddenly leapt towards the table and grabbed up the anklet. You also snatched the conveniently placed pair of scissors next to them, and held them up for him to see.

His frown deepened and his mouth dropped open the slightest bit.

“I’ll cut it,” you threatened, without him even saying a word. He was beginning to worry, and not because you were threatening to alert the FBI to his almost escape. “I’ll cut and then Peter will come here and you won’t be able to leave.”

Neal put both hands slowly up, watching as you tensed and drew the scissors closer to the anklet. He involuntarily rose both eyebrows and shook his head.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his tone hopefully a lot more calming than he was feeling. “Put the scissors down.” He was gentle, but for some reason you only grew more agitated.

“Go to hell, Neal!” you spat out. Your eyes were getting glassier by the second.

Neal’s confusion was etched so clearly on his face. No, he hadn’t thought you’d appreciate him stealing from Peter and managing to effortlessly get his anklet off, but he had not expected you to stand there like one of the clay statues he was working on, completely different to how you normally were.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he tried, “what’s this about?”

You swallowed, lifting an arm to wipe at your eyes. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You want to leave me!”

“Leave you? Y/N, I-” He licked his lips and shook his head, eyes flicking around the room in utter loss for what to do. Fowler was still on his mind as they moved swiftly past the clock on the wall, but only barely.

Another thing you knew about your brother was that he was quick. And so when the door behind you opened, and you snapped your head around to see Mozzie, you stupidly didn’t account for suddenly being tackled onto the ground, the anklet and scissors knocked easily from your hands, head cushioned by his own hands so it didn’t hit against the wooden floor when you fell back.

The wind was knocked from you for a moment, and you took a moment to breathe normally, but when you did, and you opened your previously tightly shut eyes to see Neal’s, your face hardened again and you struggled.

“Get off!” you yelled, and Neal slipped his hands from under your head, grabbing your forearms.

He glanced up. “Not now, Moz,” he said, and you heard the door shut before you were forced still.

“Enough!” Neal rarely rose his voice at you. You were his pride and joy, and you were a good girl, and the two of you got on like a house on fire (“that’ll probably be literally, one day,” Peter had remarked once) so he’d never had need of it. But you were acting almost psychotic, and he’d never seen you in such a way.

Fortunately, you ceased your struggling at his voice, so stern and loud you had no other choice. You squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel his hands tight around your wrists, your own hands balled into fists.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but you need to stop this.” There was still that edge to his tone, but he spoke lower this time. “What happened to talking, huh? Like normal people? We do not pick up sharp objects and threaten each other! What the hell, Y/N?”

He wasn’t angry. He was confused. Which was why, when your face scrunched up, and tears began leaking from your eyes, he sighed and let your arms go. A rattled breath ripped from your throat and he shook his head, dropping to lie beside you and gently grasping you to pull against him.

“Please don’t go,” you all but choked out, your balled hands tucked under your chin.

His hand automatically came to the back of your head, legs bent at the knees. “If Fowler killed Kate-”

“But you don’t know that!” You raised your head, staring down at your brother with red eyes, and Neal pressed his lips together, his hand dropping beside him. “He-” You sniffed, swallowing back further tears- “He could be innocent, and you would be risking everything on something that doesn’t matter. You’d be risking us on something that doesn’t matter.”

It clicked like the last puzzle piece, and he mentally called himself a fool a hundred times over. Of course he’d known you had grown into somewhat of the personification of super glue in the years he’d been in prison. He’d returned, and suddenly the little girl he’d raised and taught to pick pockets and stand and look cute while he slipped into a top security building had grown up, and you’d thrown out any inkling at all that you would become like him. He wasn’t complaining. He’d never complain. If anything, he was thrilled you were further from the criminal life than him. But you hadn’t been that far before he’d gone away, and it’d been something for him to get used to. He doubted he’d be so lucky sticking to the right path if he didn’t have you nearby, but it seemed at times you took your so-called job a little seriously.

Not that it was a job.

You just wanted a normal life with him.

How could he fault that?

He’d stolen from an FBI agent, escaped his tracking anklet, and murder was on his mind. You knew him, and so you knew that. No wonder you’d said all you had. He was a terrible influence, and everything he’d done and was thinking of doing could garner him more time in prison than either of you would’ve able to handle. You knew that. And you’d somehow deducted that, minus the hypothetical murder, perhaps alerting Peter to the fact Neal had broken free would save your brother some time. Time with you. Time he shouldn’t have been taking for granted.

“Y/N...” He brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, shifting. An imploring love melted into the blues of his eyes as you simply stared into them. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He pulled on your head and you rested it on his chest, silent save for the occasional quiet sigh.

“I just don’t want you to have to leave me again,” you muttered.

Neal nodded, closing his eyes. “I know. I don’t want to. I-” He grit his teeth and shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you’re not thirteen anymore.”

The corners of your lips lifted a little and she rubbed at your eyes. “I didn’t mean to pick up the scissors like that.”

“Thought I’d have to drop you off at a psychward,” Neal commented, claiming victory when you breathed a short laugh. It was a quick victory, however, when his face sobered a moment later and he stared aimlessly at the ceiling. He could just about hear the clock ticking behind him. Time was running short.

“I gotta do this, Y/N,” he said slowly. Quietly. His fingers rubbed circles on the back of your head. He wondered briefly if you’d grab the anklet and scissors again, but you stayed exactly where you were.

“I have to- to know if Fowler killed her. It’s the only way.”

You blinked before sniffing and sitting up. You turned to face him, crossing your legs, and absently bit at your lip.

“Then I’m coming with you,” you said.

Neal sat up. He had half a mind to say no and tell you you were to stay home, but he knew it’d likely send you off in another frenzy. Sighing barely audibly, he leaned forward and wiped at a tear track on your pink cheek.

“Okay,” he said resignedly.

“And never do it again.” You posed it as more of an innocent question, and you glanced down at your fidgeting hands after you said it.

Neal gazed at you. “C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll try, but you know me. Can’t make a promise like that.”

You shut your eyes against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You knew he couldn’t promise a thing like that. But it made you feel better to know he’d at least try.

“Uh, you guys done being sentimental?”

You glanced up as the door opened again and Mozzie stuck his head in. Neal turned slightly.

“Yeah, Moz,” he said. He pressed a kiss to your head and the both of you stood up. He looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You ready?”

You shrugged, sparing another glance at the anklet and scissors, and smiled back. “Not at all.”

#white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #neal x reader #mozzie #mozzie x reader #mozzie x neal #neal x mozzie #peter burke #peter burke x reader #peter burke x neal caffrey #neal caffrey x peter burke #peter x neal #neal x peter #sister reader #sister!reader #teen!reader #teen reader #mine

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uozlulu · 3 years

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BnHA/MHA chapter 319 reaction and spoilers

I like how the color page opens with Uraraka and Iida who were the first to accept and bond with Midoriya, and then shifts to Bakugou, Todoroki, and Tokoyami, who are also some of the closest with Midoriya and also are mentored by Best Jeanist, Endeavor, and Hawks who are all working with Midoriya (and also frankly mishandling the situation).

I also like that Class 2-A are all gathered together to figure this all out. The class, after all, functions as a kind of found family for each other, so it makes sense they’d come together for Midoriya’s sake. Correction: Class 1-A. Jirou said that they haven’t properly started second year yet, at least as of this flashback, which was likely at the start of April.

Spoon bird. I’m cackling. Also got me curious what the Japanese here was and it was ヘラ鳥 (heratori), which is spatula bird and as a side note, Jeanist is just ジーパン (jiipan) which is jeans, so I love that localization changed it to Denim Head and Spoonbird, because a) it’s just so Bakugou and b) I’m dying at the mental image of hawks with a spoon bird bill. I love it.

I love it. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Not only because Class 1-A went to Nezu about this and Nezu was all in, not only because the entire class is here to confront Endeavor about what’s going on with Midoriya, but also because Bakugou is wearing his tie properly now. It’s so fitting too. Like how when you get to be seventeen it’s like you can kind of feel something in your brain just start snapping into place. Like you’re one step closer to become the adult you will be but you’re still not quite there yet. I also love that it’s Bakugou and Todoroki at the forefront of the group since they were just under Endeavor’s mentorship not that long ago timeline wise. By having Bakugou and Todoroki stand at the forefront, it also underscores why the entire group is there because we just spent the Endeavor Agency Arc seeing Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki standing as a unit repeatedly. I also like that Uraraka and Iida are right there just behind Bakugou and Todoroki too.

Bakugou: But, you don't know the first thing about Deku. He's screwed up in the head. The guy never takes himself into account. Just says crap like "I'm fine." All Might became the Symbol of Peace with the same mindset, so he won't be the one to stop Deku. Listen, Endeavor, you can’t leave those two alone with each other! Not them!

Bakugou is complete correct as we already know, but it’s good to see he’s analyzed the situation accurately.

I love how Class 1-A is basically Midoriya’s found family. It’s like Iida said, “We as a class intend to find him and work alongside him. No matter how great a burden One For All may be, Midoriya is our friend, and we can’t very well be expected to go smiling into the future knowing that our friend is walking this thorny path alone.” I also love that it’s Iida who says this because he was also part of the Bakugou rescue squad during the Kamino incident. We also see Kirishima, Momo, and Todoroki in that panel who were also all participated in Bakugou’s rescue too. It’s a great call back to the rescue team that set out to save Bakugou while also being different since this is not only a different circumstance, but also the kids have matured since that arc.

I love that Nezu gives his blessing and has already got quite a bit set in motion that can allow the kids to go back and retrieve Midoriya and Yagi. I also like that Nezu praises Shouto here because he’s right. Shouto’s really growing since he first came to UA, and that deserves recognition.

I love how Midoriya vs. Bakugou 2 is basically Midoriya vs. Class 1-A who have eaten, rested, and probably analyzed this upcoming fight. While Midoriya has also analyzed this type of fight potential (or at least all his classmates one on one vs. himself, he has not eaten or slept well in a while so he’s definitely at a disadvantage. Not to mention OFA, whether they are the actual users or just personifications of Midoriya’s various thoughts and concerns, are probably on Class 1-A’s side given what the Second User said last week, so it’ll be interesting to see where this leads.

I do think they will return to UA, but there’s always the possibility that the class helps Midoriya without them returning to UA just yet, so we’ll see where this goes.

#liveblog #manga liveblog #bnha manga liveblog #mha manga liveblog #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #i'm reading ch 319 #ymmv #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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fearfulkittenwrites · 4 years

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Damian needs help - Super Sons

"After pacing in his room for a while, Damian came to the painful conclusion that he’d need help. Unfortunately, the only people who could offer him said help were... For lack of a better term, irritating. Still, he swallowed his pride and went hunting for the three men he lovingly calls brothers."

Or: Damian asks his brothers how were they able to turn their friendships into romances, because he wants to do the same.

Word count: 1971

Link for it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25812319

Or read it below the cut!

After pacing in his room for a while, Damian came to the painful conclusion that he’d need help. Unfortunately, the only people who could offer him said help were... For lack of a better term, irritating. Still, he swallowed his pride and went hunting for the three men he lovingly calls brothers, finding all of them in the cave. Dick was exercising his acrobat skills, Tim was mindlessly kicking the crap out of a punching bag, looking bored, and Jason cleaned his guns while humming “Highway to Hell”.

“I need your help.” He exclaimed, from the top of the stairs. All of them immediately stopped what they were doing. Jason seemed amused, Dick seemed worried and Tim seemed... incredulous.

“You... What?” He asked, stilling the bag.

“I need your help.” He repeated, frowning.

“Something bad happened Dames?” Dick inquired, carefully.

“What? No.” Damian shook his head and climbed down. Dick picked up a towel to remove the sweat from his hair and face, then hanged it around his neck. Jason reassembled his weapons, watching from a safe distance while the rest of them got closer to the boy “I need your help because... I...” His voice became an inaudible mumbe.

“Because what?” Tim inquired.

“Because I want to ask...” Once again, his words became mushed up, hurried and quiet. Dick raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“What?” The teen insisted.

“It’s about Jon, isn’t it?” Dick stated. Damian scowled and nodded.

“What? How did you know that?” Tim stepped in.

“That’s not the point, Drake.” Damian interrupted “I need to ask him out.”

“And what do you need us to do?” Dick asked, reaching for the water bottle on his table.

“I need advice. You have been in situations very similar to mine, and you had a good outcome. How can I achieve that with Jon?”

“I don’t know man, just ask him out.” Tim said, headed back to his punching bag “It’s not like Jon would ever be mean to anyone. Even if you yourself are the incarnation of mean.”

“-tt-.” Damian rolled his eyes “Grayson, what did you do to get West?” He inquired.

“Well, I guess that at first we had like, a bromance, right?”

“Yes. And then what?”

“Then we slept together.” He shrugged. However, as soon as the words came out of his mouth he regretted them, straightening his posture “But, uhm, maybe that’s not the best advice for you to follow.”

“I figured that out on my own.” He scowled in disgust. Damian turned to Tim. He was also with a super, so he’d probably be of use to Damian now “What about you, Drake? How did you get the clone?”

“Actually,” He gave a high kick to the bag “Kon was the one who asked me out.”

“And why did you say yes?” He twisted his nose.

“Uh, because I wanted to?” Tim responded, an implied ‘obviously’ in his tone “Anyways, I don’t think I can help you so much in that department. Hey, Jason,” He said “You should be able to help. What did you do to be with Roy?”

“What?” The man answered “Me and Roy aren’t together.”

“Really?” Tim laughed “Then why do you always cuddle when you’re watching a movie together?”

“And why is he always lingering around in the manor?” Damian asked, crossed arms.

“And didn’t you two went out together the other night?” Dick chimed in, biting the end of his bottle.

“We went to a bar, that’s normal.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that I accidentally caught you two in the middle of a heavy makeout session when you came back.” Dick shot back.

“Consider yourself lucky.” Tim said “I caught them doing worse.”

“It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything.” Jason explained.

“Have you been with anyone else lately?” Dick smirked as the other glared at him “Well, he hasn’t either.”

“He...? Wait.” Jason stopped for a second “Shit. Shit. I need to call Roy.” He rushed out of the cave, picking up his cellphone.

Tim chuckled.

“Ugh, clearly, the three of you are useless. As usual.” Damian scowled.

“Oh, c’mon Little D.” Dick said, ruffling his hair “We’re not useless. You’re the one expecting something that doesn’t exist.”

“And what would that be?” He groaned, setting his hair back in order.

“A formula. There’s no such thing as a recipe when it comes to romance. You just have to try whatever feels right.”

“Nothing feels right.” He complained, throwing his small body in a chair.

“That’s because you’re nervous.” Dick pointed out “Just... Ask him if he’d want to go out and have some ice cream this weekend. Then see what happens.”

“This seems like an awfully unprepared date.”

“It doesn’t have to be elaborate Damian.” Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, still torturing the poor bag “I mean, Jon’s a farm boy and he’s the literal personification of sunshine. You could probably take him to a convenience store on a first date and he’d be excited about it.” Damian groaned.

“Fine, I’ll consider it.” Damian said.

Jason ran into the cave in an euphoric state, practically falling down the stairs.

“Guys!” He yelled “Guys you were right! We’re together now! He really is my boyfriend!”

Damian scowled in disgust while Tim and Dick laughed. The boy pushed his brother out of the way as he went back up into the manor, knowing what he had to do, as unpleasant as it might be. He made his way into the ballroom, where Alfred coordinated the cleaning for the incoming gala. Getting the room ready always took at least three days; the butler was a perfectionist.

“Alfred.” He called “I require some assistance.” The man seemed surprise. He nodded, turning his attention to a blushing Damian “Say I intended to ask someone on a date.” His face got redder with each word “What... Where should I take said person?”

“Well, master Damian,” Alfred started “That depends. Who is this girl we’re talking about?”

“Not a girl.” He couldn’t keep eye contact.

“Oh. Then who is this boy we’re thinking of?” Damian couldn’t answer “Is it safe to assume we’re talking about young master Jon?” He shoved his face in his hands and nodded “Very well then.” Alfred had the faintest of smiles on his face “Might I suggest a picnic sir?” Damian peeked through his fingers “I can arrange a meal to be eaten in the garden.” He removed his hands from his face, placing them on his chin.

“Maybe. But I have a better idea.”

...

Damian paced on the roof when he saw a blue blur coming in his direction. He smiled. Jon landed next to him, Superboy outfit on.

“Hey D.” He greeted, smiling “Why aren’t you wearing your costume?”

“They’re not...” He bit his tongue “Wait. What did the clone tell you?”

“Kon told me that Tim told him that you asked him to tell Kon to tell me that you’d be waiting in the roof for me tonight.” Jon tilted his head a little “Why?”

“Did that idiot tell you why I’d be waiting in the roof?” Damian was fuming. He wished he had simply asked Jon himself.

“No? I assumed it was hero stuff.” He looked past him. There was a picnic basket and a checkered red tablecloth set on the ground “Oh.” He blushed.

“Yeah. Oh.” Damian said, huffing “Stupid clone. You should leave. I won’t force you to...”

“No! No, it’s a good kind of ‘oh’.” Jon extended his hands, stopping Damian “I... Liked it. I just wish I had a better outfit on.”

“Well,” Damian shifted his weight from one leg to the other “In that case, maybe we should sit.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jon swallowed, unsure on how to act. Damian pulled out the food Alfred had prepared for them.

“I, uhm, I asked Alfred to make these.” He placed two sandwiches in front of them “They’re chickpeas ‘tuna’ sandwiches. If you don’t like them, I’m certain Alfred would be happy to make you something else.”

“I’ve never had those before,” Jon said, examining it “They seem good.”

“They are.” Damian watched as Jon bit into his sandwich, hopeful.

“Hum.” He exclaimed, mouth full “I like it.” Damian let out a breath. He pulled out two glass bottles.

“Orange juice?”

“Yes, please.” Jon took one from his hands.

They ate quietly. Damian noticed how Jon’s blue eyes looked beautiful under the moonlight, how his hair framed his face perfectly when it was ruffled up by the wind, how his smile still knocked the breath out of his lungs, no matter how many times he’s seen it before. Jon stared at the stars.

“This is so nice.” He said “It’s been so long since I last saw them this bright. The lights in metropolis get in the way.” Damian looked up “I thought they’d get in the way here too, but I guess that the manor is far enough from the city that it doesn’t.” He sighed “It makes me miss Hamilton.”

Damnit. Damian planned this so carefully. How could he have missed something so obvious? Now Jon was sad, and it was his fault. He should’ve just taken him for stupid ice cream.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He said, head low.

“Upset me?” Jon asked “You didn’t upset me. This is perfect, D.”

“But you just said...?”

“That it makes me miss Hamilton? That’s not a bad thing.” Jon smiled, biting his sandwich again “It means that you gave me back something I thought I had lost for good after I moved.” He inched a hand closer to Damian’s. He retributed the movement, fingers touching slightly. None of them wanted to pull away.

Once they were done eating, Damian reached into the basket again, pulling out...

“Cookies!” Jon excitedly pointed out. Damian smirked.

“I knew you’d like them.” Jon fished one out of the bag.

“Oh, they’re still warm!” He nearly moaned as he bit into one of them “These are so good.”

“I’ll let Alfred know you appreciated them.” Damian watched his satisfied munching.

“Mmm, please do!” He licked his lips, getting the crumbs away from them and into his mouth. Damian swallowed.

Jon ate the cookies at record speed, and now they were both laying on the roof in silence, looking up at the sky. It was a warm night and the full moon was as bright as it could be, lighting up the distant Gotham streets.

“Now what?” Jon nearly whispered.

“You have your suit. I could put on my suit and we could patrol in Gotham tonight.” Damian said, eyes fixed on the sky “Or we could stay here.”

“I like the second option better.” He answered, pushing himself up. He floated over Damian, blue eyes piercing through his soul. Damian reached up, setting a hand behind Jon’s neck, playing with the hair growing there, slowly bringing him down into a kiss. They closed their eyes for a second, lips pressed together until Damian pulled away.

“Was it... Good?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Jon answered “Can I land on top of you?” Damian nodded. Jon laid down again, tangling their legs together, supporting his head on the other’s chest “This feels like a dream.” His voice was almost inaudible.

“Tell me about it.” Damian’s hand moved to comb through his hair gently, voice nothing but a whisper. Jon made an approving hum and he smiled.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too.”

“I guess we’re both idiots then, huh?” Jon looked up at him “Waisting our time bickering when we could’ve just... Said it.”

Damian swallowed.

“This is the only time you’re ever allowed to call me an idiot.” He wanted to scowl, but he grinned instead. Jon chuckled.

“Okay. Please don’t stop playing with my hair.”

“I won’t.”

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unikornavenger · 4 years

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Having a Seat at the Table

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564421

Warnings: Anxiety, low-key cursing, arguing, nothing too bad

Word Count: 2275

A/N: I wrote and edited this in like two hours two nights ago in a mad frenzy after not finishing any writing in an extremely long time, so keep that in mind.

Summary: After Putting Others First, no one wants to tell Virgil what happened, so he confronts Jan- Deceit- about what happened.

Alright, onward with the story!

He blows out a breath with a force that swishes his bangs.

He can do this.

It’s just a door, then a conversation. Besides, he’s been meaning to do this for a long time.

He raps on the door three times.

Brief flashes of memories scatter through his brain: his small frame trembling as he knocked on the door in the hopes that someone would finally answer, lightly tapping on the door as he wondered if he would be let in again or if it was just a one-time fluke, elation and joy filling his entire person as he called out to the person on the other side of the door, the door slamming in his face combined with threats that if he ever touched this door again, a loud noise wouldn’t be the only thing coming his way.

“You may enter.”

Another breath exits his mouth. Game face on.

He twists the doorknob, letting the all too familiar pale yellow walls fill his vision in contrast to the dark oak floors. It’s eerie how similar the room looks. The bed is in the same place with the same black comforter with shiny triangles on them if you look at it in a particular light. The only notable change is the dark chair shaped like a throne smack dab in the middle of the room.

“Ah, Virgil,” sitting in the chair, Deceit turns around. Apparently, it’s a swivel chair, Virgil thinks distantly. “Well, this is most certainly unexpected.” His elbows rest on the arms of the chair and his fingertips are spread apart and pressed together. His head is slightly tilted forward as one side of his mouth is lifted the smallest bit.

Literally the personification of a Disney villain.

Virgil snarled, “Cut the crap, Deceit.”

“Oh?” Deceit raises an eyebrow. Virgil feels his body fill with resentment at Deceit’s complacency. A feeling of static courses through his veins. In the back of his mind, he feels his hands begin to shake.

He stalks into the room, slamming the door behind him. He points an accusatory finger as Deceit adopts an amused face, “I want you to tell me what the hell you did upstairs.”

“So, to the point,” Deceit leans forward as he places his elbows on his knees and cups his chin in his hands. “What happened to ‘Oh, hello, Deceit!’ or ‘What a wonderful opportunity to speak with you again, Deceit!’”

Oh my god. He forgot just how absolutely exhausting it is to have a proper conversation with him.

Virgil crosses his arms, with only a few feet of separation, keeping his glaring gaze aimed at Deceit, “I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”

“Mhmm, very well.” Deceit turns back to his desk that Virgil didn’t even notice until right now. Books litter the surface, lying haphazardly on top of each other. Half-filled sheets of paper are strewn about as well. Pens litter the table as does a single unsolved Rubix cube. What would Thomas’s deceit need to work out exactly? “We both know that one side staying in another’s room does wonders for their mental stability.”

Virgil represses a shudder as he recalls the night he figured out just how dangerous Deceit’s room could be.

He remembers shoving himself in the corner of the room as he felt cotton being shoved down his throat when, in reality, nothing was in his mouth. Deceit was demanding Virgil express his hatred toward the light sides. Virgil tried to cry out how Morality’s cheery disposition leaves him with cavities, how Logic’s propensity to correct everyone on everything turned him off, and how Creativity’s passionate need to overpower all ideas that aren’t his rubbed Virgil the wrong way.

But, those weren’t the full truths.

Suddenly, as the half-truths spilled out of his mouth, each word turned to dust in his mouth. His throat not functioning at all and panic rising as he sought refuge in the farthest space from Deceit. He didn’t want him to know the full extent of his words. He couldn’t be kicked out of the dark sides.

Virgil sniffs, “Well, I guess we’ll both have to deal if it comes to that. Now, I will only repeat my question one more time: what did you do?”

“Ugh,” Deceit exclaims, twisting around to face Virgil again, “why are you coming to the self-proclaimed master of decep-”

Virgil interrupts him by rushing up and grabbing two fistfuls of Deceit’s shirt and pulling him out of his seat, “I am not kidding around.” He could feel his eyes widen and him baring his teeth. “You need to tell me why when I asked everyone how the video went Logan mumbled that he wasn’t feeling well, Patton said he didn’t think it was a good idea, and I haven’t even seen Roman.” He lets out a humorless laugh, “I haven’t heard from any of them in three days. It’s been three days, Deceit! Tell me what happened!”

His breath is coming out in short pants now and his hands are turning white from the vice grip he has on Deceit’s clothes. Virgil searches Deceit’s eyes for something. Anything. To the untrained eye, he would appear calm and collected, but after years of Virgil having to translate all of his actions into honest words, he sees something foreign. Something weird glimmering underneath the surface.

“Once you put me down, perhaps we can speak as equals.”

Virgil lets go as feels some satisfaction in his stomach as Deceit lets out an oomph from hitting his chair.

The deceitful side adjusts his top and stands up to being pacing around his desk. “You see, Virgil, I was only doing my job up there.” He grabs a pen from his desk and begins twirling it in his hand. The practiced motion is so fluid as the pen seems to twirl itself and travel between his fingers. “You of all people should know that how people react to you doing your job is not your responsibility.”

“Okay, sure, but one needs to know when to hold back and apologize when they do something wrong.” He waves his hands frantically, “Don’t push us off-topic.”

He places the pen back on his desk, “If you want to know what went so wrong, why don’t you ask Thomas?”

Virgil feels himself stiffen. He’s not ready yet to talk to Thomas by himself. He’s sure that those two consecutive trainwrecks of videos are not conducive to Thomas or himself being ready for an emotionally charged conversation.

But, Deceit doesn’t need to know that.

“I- Thomas has been busy and-” his hand suddenly flies up and slaps him over his own mouth.

Deceit turns around with a fist in the air and feigns surprise, “Oh, no, no, no, Virgie.” He unclenches his hand, “You know lying is not permitted in this room.”

Virgil hears his heart clamoring in his chest and his hands become slick.

Crap.

“Well, I’m not the only one who’s avoiding telling me the truth.”

Deceit holds up his hands in admission, “You got me there.” He flings his cape backward to sit on his bed without wrinkling his cape. He pats the empty space next to him, “Sit down for a little storytime.”

“I prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself. So, the thing is,” he takes a dramatic pause (Jesus Christ, does this man think he’s Roman? Cut to the chase!). He takes off both of his gloves and places them in his lap.

Virgil takes a step back but doesn’t say anything on the subject further. He hasn’t seen Deceit’s bare hands in years. It’s almost like he forgot they existed. At least it seems like he’s taking his inquiry seriously.

“Thomas needs to realize that Patton is pushing him over the edge.”

“What?” Virgil takes up a defensive stance. What does he have against Patton now?

“Please,” he looks up with pleading eyes, “let me finish.”

The uncharacteristic earnestness in Deceit’s voice and face is so alarming. Virgil’s head is literally screaming for him to leave, but he can’t afford to miss this opportunity for answers.

Deceit resumes, “He wanted Thomas to put his mental health on the line to make someone else happy.” He gulps, “I could not let that behavior continue. Thomas cannot be sent into a mental health crisis in order for him to learn his limits.” His gloves drop to the floor, “That is completely unacceptable behavior from Morality.”

Virgil swallows, “Okay, so, that explains Patton’s reluctancy. Um, Logan?”

“Ah, yes, I may or may not have pulled him out of the entire video in order to get my point across.”

Virgil sends him a semi-eye-roll mixed with pursed lips, “Should’ve known you weren’t as good as you were making yourself seem.”

Deceit inhales sharply, “Of course not.” He picks up his gloves, “Someone has to pick up your task of keeping everyone on their toes.”

Ouch, but he didn’t come here to make amends with Deceit or even to defend himself.

“Uh, so, Roman? What’d you do to him?” Virgil shifts his stance as Deceit finally stands from his bed to meet his eyes as he slides his gloves back over his hands.

“He was obviously distrusting me due to his previous experiences with me. You know, harboring negative feelings toward someone is 100% conducive to a positive partnership.”

Virgil shakes his head as Deceit mumbles, “I, also, may have called him evil.”

Virgil’s expression changes immediately, hardening where he let cracks form when Deceit was explaining the previous situations. He should have known better than to let his guard down in front of the literal professional manipulator.

“Why?” He lets out through clenched teeth.

“It was necessary to get my point across. Crass or not, it already happened. What’s done is done.”

So blasé.

Virgil lets out a hollow laugh as he stabs a finger at Deceit’s chest, “This is why no one listens to you! You are literally the definition of a villain!”

Deceit sighs as he pushes away Virgil’s arm, “We all want to help Thomas in our own way. None of us are villains as you people love to imply.”

The audacity. “You are not who you think you are.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You hurt us. You punish us when things don’t go your way, lashing out in every single opportunity just so you can get in the last word.”

“I HELP Thomas get what he wants and deserves. I don’t know how much harder I can get it into your thick-”

“You only hurt people!” Virgil exclaims. These words gained so much dust over the years, and it feels so good for him to finally get it out of his system. It’s like he can finally breathe again, “There’s no compromising with you!”

“That’s not-”

“You force us into silence. Hiding away parts of Thomas you don’t want him to see.”

“He’s not ready to-”

“Thomas is a full-grown adult!” Virgil flails his arms wildly, and he swears he seems another glimmer in Deceit’s eyes, “I get that self-preservation has its time and place, but you’re taking it way too far!”

“I am protecting Thomas the same way you do.”

“Don’t you dare compare your actions to mine.” Virgil’s stomach flips as Deceit’s lips curl into a smirk.

“But, don’t we want the same thing? We just want to protect our darling boy.” He steps forward, “The only difference between us is that your forgiving personality has charmed Thomas and the others before mine could.”

“No, I-”

“We are two peas of the same pod, whether you like it or not.” Virgil represses a flinch as Deceit trails his finger along Virgil’s jaw, “You used to understand that so well.”

Virgil yanks himself out of Deceit’s grasp, “Yeah, well, I learned how to be listened to without being feared. I worked for a seat at that table. I didn’t just hurt people until they realized that they could never get rid of me. That’s you.”

“Well, in my defense, I did have to save myself from Roman’s onslaught of biting words.”

Virgil swallows. Uh oh. “Roman’s grown, unlike you.”

Deceit scoffs, “I beg to differ. He was all,” he clasps his hands and speaks in a high-pitched voice, “Oh, Thomas can’t put any good into the world with him here! He’s evil! Thomas is ethically compromised with Janus here!”

Wait.

What.

“You- you-” Virgil stammers, “Thomas-”

Deceit drops his hands and adopts a bored expression.

“Thomas let you have a seat at the table.” The words fall out of Virgil’s mouth without much thought before then. His throat begins to tighten.

“Oh, yes, and it was evidently very well received.”

Breathless, Virgil manages, “I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head at the ground. After all this time Virgil spent showing Thomas how Deceit can’t be trusted, he just lets it happen. He learned Deceit’s name. All that work for nothing.

They’re worse off from where they started.

How could he do this?

“It’s not that difficult to comprehend. We are now equals.”

Virgil looks at Deceit with a fire that could burn down a city, “We never have been and never will be the same. I refuse to be put in the same sentence as a manipulator who thinks the ends perpetually justify the means.”

Virgil turns away and walks toward Deceit’s door.

“Like it or not, Thomas has decided to trust me, Janus Sanders, with giving him well-needed advice.”

Virgil blinks, feeling the cool metal of the doorknob begin to burn his skin. He opens the door and faces Deceit, “Stay away from my family.”

Slam.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fanfic #thomas sanders #uni writes #post-POF

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sieben9 · 5 years

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“beauty” impressions

{Quick request to anyone reading: I’m watching OUaT for the first time, and I want to avoid spoilers. So, if you want to discuss something spoilery, I’d be grateful if you could start a new post for that. Thank you!}

Well… That sure happened

Now that I am nothing more than the hollowed-out, broken shell of a person, let me share my feelings with you! But under the cut. (Fair warning: there is a lot of sadness in here. Proceed with caution and maybe a mug of hot chocolate. Also, don’t open this on mobile. I went a bit screencap-happy.)

I loved this episode? So much? I know, I was really subtle about it, and it’s possible to miss amidst all the crying but hoooly crap, this is easily among my Top 3, I think.

Alright, quick rundown of the “side plots”, because while That Thing™ is definitely at the forefront of my mind after watching, the other stuff going on was actually pretty good and important plot developments. Which, really is another point in the episode’s favour. Yes, the Halloween-plot worked well to space out the other stuff, and it provided some much-needed relief of tension, but it was clearly important in its own right, so…

Guh. Henry. You know I love you, but I will also find a way to smack you in the head with a rolled-up newspaper, because you are an idiot. …yes, I get that he feels like he just lost his family all over again, and that’s not something that inclines people to adventurous behaviour, but still. You were so close!

Instead, we get this:

Which, uh… I’m not saying Ivy shouldn’t have good things in life, because lord knows, that was a sad, sad story right there, but this also did not sound like you two will be good for each other. Neither of you really want a safe, “uncomplicated” romantic relationship, you want a family. Ivy, specifically, needs someone to who doesn’t just love her conditionally, and Henry… well, Henry mostly just needs to wake up from the curse, because what he wants will be all over the place until he does.

Still, Ivy’s moment of bravery when saying that she’ll deal with Belfrey and the others should enjoy their Halloween was pretty heart-warming. Did I mention that this lady worries me? I’m worried for her, and I am still worried about her.

In other news: I’m pretty sure I know where Hook’s daughter is, now.

the rook is a metaphor

I mean, I could still be wrong, but that seems like one hell of a red herring to put out. And it opens up so many questions! Did they meet again before the curse, or is this a horrible game of emotional keepaway? Does Rumple know who these two are to each other? What, exactly, is his relationship with Tilly/Alice? I mean, he was so ready to fight Tremaine over her, before and after he woke up, and he went into 107% Concerned Dad Mode when he thought she was hurting, so he clearly feels very protective of her, but when did that happen? How did that happen? Is she actually this “guardian” or is that Henry? Or is this just one big prophecy-screw, after all? Seriously, you’d think after that first disastrous experience, Rumple would have learned to never trust a prophecy. Ever. Why am I the only one here who remembers that??

Ahem. Anyways. Lots of potential there. I can’t wait to see how that one unfolds.

Other highlights included Weaver butting heads with Belfrey. It was glorious. I almost wish Rumple had woken up just a little bit later, because watching these two go up against each other was a pure delight.

Also, this:

presented without comment

…look, I’m only human.

I was also deeply amused by the conversation between Weaver and Rogers. Okay, maybe “amused” isn’t quite the word, because it’s clear that Roger’s cold case is how the curse incorporated his search for his daughter into his memories, so it could keep torturing him with the loss. Which, you know, doesn’t really qualify as amusing. But Weaver is the walking, talking personification of that meme “’I don’t care,’ I say, caringly, as I care way too much.”

Yes, it is immediately obvious that you do not care about anyone. At all. Not even a little.

pictured: a lying liar who lies

Really, the relationship between Weaver and Tilly might just have made it on the top of my list for this season, on the strength of this episode alone. The way this kind of terrible person cared so deeply for young woman, showed concern for her well-being, and directly jeopardised his own advantage and safety to help her just pushed aaaall of my buttons.

And Tilly’s mounting desperation to remind Weaver of who he really is, before she loses herself again was heart-breaking to watch. She knew she wasn’t getting out of this with her mind in once piece, but right until the end she didn’t stop fighting to help her friend.

…look, “help” looks different for different people, alright?

And with that…

Thanks, show! It’s not like I really needed my heart in the first place. Fantastic light, though.

So, I pretty much knew what was coming (in general terms at least), because… well, I had some warning and it didn’t take that much guessing in the first place. And I saw the “how” the moment that montage started because I, too, have seen Up.

I still cried like a hungry baby. My cat was very concerned.

please. your face. I cannot deal with this.

This was such a well-told story. They really gave it their all to show that yes, these two were happy, at the end. The montage, for one, which even for people who haven’t seen Up works as a good visual shorthand. The nostalgic clutter in the house. The fact that these two dorks still dance around the house when they feel like it. All the little gestures between them—the fond looks, the little tuck of a blanket, Rumple matching Belle’s steps perfectly as they walk out into the garden. I just… they were so happy together.

And I’m glad they told the story like this. Nothing bad happened to Belle. Her life wasn’t some inspiring tragedy or anything like that. She spent her life with her True Love. She raised her son and saw him grow up well. She got to fulfil her dream of travelling the world, and did so together with the people she loved most. And she died after a long and happy life, not in some grand, dramatic fashion, but simply because that is what mortals do. We die.

hi, is anyone else absolutely convinced that he carved that with his own two hands rather than use magic? because I am and I want to share my feelings! there’s quite a lot of them…

And just… you know, when that conversation with Gideon happens, and Rumple says ruefully that time might have stood still for this realm, but it didn’t for Belle… you just know he forgot about it. They were together, and they were happy, and he was so determined to spend the rest of his life with her that he didn’t realise what was happening right until she fell off that ladder. It’s clear they’d never talked about him using his magic to rejuvenate her before—that was the first time the topic ever came up, I think. And the last, of course.

(By the way, there’s totally a conversation about fridging to be had here, but I’d prefer that to be another post. I’m really deep in my feelings right now and I’d rather leave putting on the analytical hat for later in the day.)

Obviously, that entire death scene fucked me up. His face. Her face. The way they told each other their own story like it was a fairy tale (because it was!) Rumple’s half-sobbing “I am afraid”, because he sees the rest of his life without Belle looming before him and he doesn’t know how to do it. He never planned to, in the first place. And then she was gone, and he was crying, and I was crying, and the camera cut away, and you could still hear him sobbing in the background god why...

yes, I will be interspersing this with pictures of my OTP being happy and in love, why do you ask?

And while I’m a bit sad that I’ll never find out what Weaver really wanted, this very clearly sets the stage for Rumple’s motivations and goals this season. Because this episode, beautiful as it was (no pun intended), can’t be the last entry of the Rumbelle story. This was the end of act 2, and I insist on a third act. The stage is all set: Rumple needs to get rid of the dagger so he can be reunited with Belle, which, granted, a bit dark. Considering it means he’s going to die (and won’t that be a fun day…) At the same time… he said it himself: he’s seen the generations pass by and he doesn’t even want to be immortal anymore. He was planning to spend the rest of his life with Belle. Just because he wasn’t physically able to doesn’t invalidate the decision he made. He’ll just have to get there the long way around.

And can I just mention how damn impressed with Rumple’s character development I was? He threw away the dagger! Not in a moment of “do or die” crisis, not as part of an “either, or” ultimatum, no, he was just… done with all that. He didn’t want the Dark One anymore, and nobody had to push him into that realisation. So much for “my power means more to me than you”, huh, past!Rumple? (Also, is it just me or did it feel a little like he waited for Belle to be roughly his physical age to do that? Because it did to me, and I have a lot of emotions about that.)

though I might giggle for a while about how Belle went grey the way an Urban Fantasy protagonist would

Other highlights included, but are not limited to:

The neverending stream of loving looks, from soft fondness to full-on bedroom eyes...

Local Dork Caught Staring Lovingly At His Wife

Also, is there a version of that first scene where Gideon doesn’t show up? Asking for a friend.

The Skin Deep parallels!

did I open up Skin Deep to get that first screencap? of course I did.

Just… guh, my heart! And the poor cup got shattered.

Again.

Everything about that last confrontation between Alice (because at that point she could barely remember ever being Tilly) and Weaver messed me up, by the way. Her mounting desperation, because she didn’t have much time left. His frantic pleading, first because he was worried she’d hurt herself and then that she’d do something she wouldn’t be able to come back from.

And, of course, that last scene between Rumple (welcome back, buddy!) and Tremaine. I’d almost feel sorry for the woman, because she probably wasn’t counting on this happening. Though I would disagree with Rumple’s “there’s nothing you can do to hurt me”--you, my friend, just lied your ass off to help Tilly get out of trouble for shooting you. After waking up. Clearly there’s some people you still care about, and I can’t wait to see how that plays out, honestly.

And there’s so much more. I could just post stills of the entire montage here, really, because it was wonderful and I loved it, even as it cracked open my ribcage and held my still-beating heart up to my eyes so I could see the life go out of it.

…ahem. All right. Deep breath.

Like I said at the top, this episode actually had some important developments that seem like they will be catalysts to kicking the plot into gear. …and as soon as my emotional batteries have recharged, I’m sure I will be very excited about that. In the meantime… please send fluff?

Oh, on that note: I want to thank everyone who tagged me in stuff. You are amazing, and I am incredibly grateful! It’ll take a while to go through it all, but I do look at all the little @s in my notifications, and they fill me with joy. (In other news: prepare for some dashboard spam over the next... ::checks drafts:: three months or so.)

#ouat #once upon a time #ouat beauty #sieben watches ouat #rumbelle #sieben talks #yeah i put it in the tag this once #so sue me #i'm not even kidding with that last one btw #i've got enough posts in my drafts to last a good 2.5 months at my current queue rate

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nyxwordsmith · 6 years

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Not Enough: Chapter 15: Virgil’s Breaking Point

A/N: So this is a flashback chapter and it’s based just before the first Accepting Anxiety video. It gets a little dark, and I know the warnings are a little light, but most of this is dialogue. If it needs more warnings, let me know. <3

Warnings: Swearing, Minor Panic, Nightmare Mention, Abandonment Discussion

Chapter 14 | Masterpost | Chapter 16

Also Available on AO3 (Complete Work)

Virgil

July 2017

Virgil shot awake from his latest nightmare, skin clammy with sweat and eye burning with unshed tears of frustration and pain. He choked them back, shoving his sleeve into his teeth and biting hard as he squeezed his eyes closed. The mocking voices in his head died down as he sat up, fighting the dizziness from fatigue as he twisted slightly.

His feet touching the cold hardwood floor of his room jolted him a little, helping make sense of where he was and that his dream was just that.

A horrible dream.

All the same, Virgil wasn’t comforted. It had only been about nine months since they’d started making videos. And he was no more included in the mindscape then he had been before. Sure, his relationship with Patton and Logan seemed to be on the mend at least. Logan appreciated their time debating and organising now, and didn’t fight back so much when Virgil pointed out potentially dangerous situations.

Patton…was as supportive as ever. Even making sure Virgil eats and sleeps and showers…the kinds of things Virgil tended to forget or ignore in his quest to find the next threat. If he wasn’t slipping notes under the door, he was outright knocking and talking through the wood.

But his heart clenched whenever he saw Roman. The memory of that fateful day had never faded. And his nightmares liked to remind of what might have happened. The prince had made it clear on many occasions now, much to Virgil’s dismay.

“I don’t like you.”

Mocking, angry, bitter…like he needed Virgil to know that whatever friendship they’d had was dead. Well, nearly stabbing your friend would surely make them angry. Roman was just retaliating for years of animosity.

Still. It hurt. A lot.

Didn’t make Virgil any less bitter though.

With the tears under control for the time being, Virgil let his sleeve fall from his teeth into his lap. He was so tired. He slumped forward on his bed, forearms resting on his thin thighs and stared down at his own hands.

They were worn, long and thin fingers that trembled slightly from nerves he could never shake. Nails bitten to the quick, and when he had no nails to bite, the skin around them bitten and torn. Calluses from countless battles in his subconscious.

He let his head drop, fingers running through his own hair. For once, soft and light to the touch. Patton was right, showering did often make him feel better. But that didn’t mean he always wanted to. Or saw the point.

He closed his eyes, sighing sadly to himself. Was there a point to going on? He had a job to do, and he wanted to do it. He wanted to protect Thomas and the other Sides. He did care. In his own way.

But months…months…of animosity from not just Roman, but Thomas too? It had worn away his resolve. What was the point if he was going to be hated at every turn? Even when he did something right, even when he kept Thomas from doing something dumb enough to get himself killed…

Was a ‘good job’ too much to ask for?

Probably, he thought to himself with a sigh. Lord knew they poured all of that energy on each other. Virgil hadn’t been a part of that in years. Heck, he hadn’t even spent a Christmas with them yet. He shuddered, that was something to worry about come December.

Those tears he’d been holding back decided to force their way up, his heart desperately clawing into his throat. He worked so damn hard. Did they think it was easy to keep a grown man alive? No, not when his other Sides are fighting back.

He bit his lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. Of course, the videos didn’t help either. Roman liked using it as a means to air dirty laundry. To throw insults and slights at him that he didn’t do when they were in the mindscape. Heck, Roman wouldn’t even look at him when they went back.

And here he was, back to thinking about Roman. Someone he’d been so close to once. Running around the mindscape together, the Imagination together…playing…

It had been playing then. Villain and prince. He’d been good at the villain part. They’d been young then. They couldn’t have known how this would all turn out. But…looking back now, painted with pain and misery…

It felt like Roman had always known. Had always thought Virgil a villain.

That broke Virgil’s remaining resolve. The tears slipped from his lashes, falling to his thighs. Why? What did he do wrong? He’d been trying to protect Roman! And by extension, all the others! Why had they turned on him?! Princey was the one who tried to stab him!

Broken, agonising sobs escaped Virgil in the early morning, shivering despite his hoodie. He was always cold now. Such a contrast to the heat he’d felt that first day when he became Anxiety.

His shaking only seemed to get worse as he pulled and tugged at his hair, desperate attempts to pull his crying back under control. He was stronger than this. Better than this. So what? So what if they hated him? He had a job to do and he was going to do it!

But…what was the point?

With a violent tug at his hair, nearly tearing half of it out, he managed to snap his eyes open and bit his lip again to muffle the sobs. It was just a nightmare why was he having a crisis over that?

Because it wasn’t just the nightmare.

He let his hands fall from his hair, staring down at them again. There wasn’t really a point to him, was there? He made Thomas anxious. He made him scared. He kept him from doing the things he loved. That was…that was no way to live.

Virgil was nothing more than an illness. A disorder. A personification of sickness. What was the point to him then? He knew the others wouldn’t care if he just disappeared. Heck, they’d probably throw a goddamned party. An even though it hurt, he couldn’t deny that it was true.

Christmas certainly would have come early.

Thomas couldn’t live while he was still around. But who was to say he couldn’t live without him? He’d been Instinct once. The one thing that kept Thomas alive. The thing that told Thomas that this dog was friendly and this one aggressive. That this food was okay and this would make him sick.

Did he even do that anymore?

Or did he just cause pain?

A door slammed somewhere in the mindscape, just down the hall if Virgil’s hearing was still good. Probably Roman’s room. Was he affecting Thomas-

A curt knock on his door.

That was a yes.

“Hey, Dark and Gloomy, what’s the deal?” Roman’s voice. A fresh wound to an already shredded heart, “It’s like six in the morning!” Virgil found the resolve to get to his feet, “Would you cut it out?”

Virgil didn’t have the voice to answer. He’d been crying. And he’d be damned if he let Roman know he’d been crying. About him…again.

So he did the next best thing to make him go away.

He threw his alarm clock at the door.

There was stunned silence as Virgil stumbled to his bathroom and leant against the doorframe for a few moments. Roman stomped off, probably to Patton’s room, and Virgil sighed as he straightened.

Well, now he’d have Patton to deal with. Maybe. It was six in the morning.

When Virgil flicked on the light, he scowled. His reflection wasn’t right. “Oh, hey there, Anxiety.”

He rolled his eyes as he approached, “Doubt.” He stepped toward the sink, “Can you at least help me put on my eyeshadow while we do this?” he sighed, turning on the faucet.

“Long night?” Doubt snickered, crossing his arms as he half-mirrored Anxiety’s movements.

Anxiety washed his face clean of his streaked eyeshadow and rolled his eyes at his not-quite-reflection, “I never have a ‘long night’,” he answered, scrubbing his cheeks, “I don’t sleep.”

Doubt snickered again, “That’s true.” Doubt didn’t move when Anxiety lowered himself to splash water over his face, “Princey still giving you issues?”

“Firstly,” Anxiety straightened again, cold washcloth draped over his eyes, “Only I call him Princey.” Doubt scowled, but Virgil was too busy trying to hide the fact he’d been crying, “Secondly, when isn’t he?”

Doubt huffed lightly, “Ya know, you don’t have to accept that crap, right?” he had his arms crossed when Virgil took the washcloth off to inspect his eyes. He grimaced when he saw they were still bloodshot and puffy.

He put the washcloth back on, “I’m not leaving Thomas unprotected.”

Doubt huffed angrily, “Will you worry about yourself for once?” he would have stomped his foot if it did any good. Well, maybe that was partly Virgil’s fault. Doubt was too loud.

Virgil laughed bitterly, “I do.”

Doubt growled softly, “You are not Thomas.” The smirk on Virgil’s face turned into a sneer, “And we both know how he feels.”

Virgil dropped the washcloth into his hands to glare at Doubt, “Low blow, man.”

Doubt shrugged at him, “Hmm.”

Virgil glared at Doubt for a bit longer before he sighed, his shoulders sagging, “You’re right though.” He tossed the washcloth into the basin, turning off the cold water, “I’m not Thomas…and he hates me.” His voice cracked as he admitted it aloud for the first time. He held himself up against the sink, his knees feeling weaker than before, “I don’t want to leave him unprotected though.”

“He hates you, Anxiety.” Virgil grimaced again, biting his lip, “So what, if he’s unprotected?” Virgil raised his eyes, hair shielding his gaze, “He should have appreciated you.”

Virgil snorted, dropping his gaze back to his hands, “Who would though? I’m an illness. A disease.”

“You weren’t always that way though.” Doubt reminded him, “I still remember when this place,” he held his hands out, gesturing to Anxiety’s part of the subconscious, “Was almost like Roman’s.”

“You remember back that far?” Virgil asked, swinging open the bathroom cabinet to pull out his make-up bag. Doubt made a noise irritation as Virgil swung it closed again. Doubt looked a little shaken, but quickly regained his balance, “I can’t even remember back that far sometimes.”

His not-quite-reflection snickered again, “Of course you don’t. You’re too busy fighting a war in there.”

Virgil looked down to his make-up bag as he pulled out his essentials, “I wouldn’t call it a war…”

“It’s a war, Anxiety. Everything you do, everything you say, is met with some kind of resistance.” Virgil only glanced at Doubt. There was no point making him know he was right, “Nothing you ever do is enough. Nothing will ever be enough. You’re fighting a losing war, man.”

Virgil popped the cap on his concealer, carefully tracing it over his nose and cheekbones, “Okay, maybe it is a war.” Virgil admitted quietly, dotting the concealer on his jawline and some on his forehead, “But that doesn’t mean I’m losing.”

Doubt’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Virgil carefully blended in some of the concealer, “Are you kidding me?! Look at the toll this bullshit has taken on you!” Virgil scowled as he dotted foundation around his face, “You’re covering it up every day, but it’s there.”

Well, that was true. He was tired. He was sore. Maybe he was fighting a losing war, with no allies or backup in sight.

“Alright, alright.” Virgil finished blending out his foundation. He already looked a shade or too healthier. It was an improvement, not a fix. “Let’s pretend that I’m starting to believe you.” He waved an eyeshadow brush at Doubt as he spoke, “What then?”

Doubt smirked smugly at Virgil, arms crossed as he mirrored Virgil leaning in, “I’d say leave. Duck out. Officially.”

Virgil nearly dropped his eyeshadow palette, jerking back a few steps. Doubt only watched, “What? I joked about that. I can’t actually leave!”

Doubt arched an eyebrow at him, “Can’t you?”

Virgil’s eyes fell to a spot on the basin and frowned as he thought. Maybe he could. He wouldn’t leave the mind, that much was certain. It was only recently that they’d discovered they could physically manifest, and even then it had been an accident. Logan had been sick for a week afterward. So he couldn’t pop out and walk away.

But maybe…maybe he could close off his part of subconscious? Maybe he could…turn it off? But how?

“I can see the cogs turning.” Doubt’s smirk grew as Virgil’s eyes met his, “Didn’t Roman close off the Imagination? So Patton would stop messing with it?”

“Yeah, but it’s still there. Thomas can still access it.” Virgil stepped forward again, slowly applying eyeshadow under his eyes.

“But Roman wanted it that way.”

Virgil paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he studied Doubt’s. He knew he shouldn’t be listening to him. Heck, he shouldn’t even be talking to him. Doubt was his minion (…friend…associate?) so listening to him was a bad idea. And heck, Virgil did enough doubting on his own without Doubt also draining his energy.

But he brought up a valid point. Maybe Virgil could leave. Maybe he had a way out when it got to be too much after all.

“And Thomas?” Virgil asked, continuing his application.

“What about him?”

“Would he be able to function?”

Doubt rolled his eyes with a huff, “You really think you’d still care?”

“You…do realise we die if he does, right?”

Doubt snickered, “He hates you, Anxiety. You may as well be dead already.”

Virgil jerked, his brush spreading eyeshadow over his nose and the tears immediately rushed to the surface, “Okay, ow.” He dropped his head to try and clean up the eyeshadow and hide the tears that threatened, “That was a little uncalled for.”

Doubt gave him another smug smirk when Virgil met his eyes again, “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

Virgil sighed, “Maybe.” He answered with a glare before returning to his application, “I guess that’s something to consider if the time comes.”

“When the time comes.” Doubt corrected, leaning back as Virgil did so he could fiddle with his hair, “It’s only a matter of time, Anxiety. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve noticed.”

He didn’t need to be reminded that Roman’s jabs have been getting more and more vicious. That he’d been making more of an effort to avoid the anxious Side. That he only listened to Virgil’s points if they came from Logan’s mouth. Either they were going to fight it out, or one of them had to leave.

And Roman was too important to Thomas.

“At least it’s an option.” Virgil continued.

Before Doubt could say anything further, there was a knock from Virgil’s door, “Anxiety?” Patton. That took him a while, “Can we talk?”

Virgil threw Doubt a wary look, “We’ll talk about this later.”

Doubt nodded, watching Virgil leave but not leaving the mirror.

Virgil opened his door to see Patton standing there, a mix between Dad Mode and concern on his face, “Can I help you?”

“Why did Thomas have a panic attack this morning?” the tone was more accusatory than Virgil liked hearing from Patton.

“I had a nightmare.” He admitted with a shrug, tucking his hands in his hoodie. “Didn’t realise it was affecting Thomas.”

“And the thing with Roman?”

Of course. It always came down to Roman. The fucking golden child. Virgil’s face twisted with hurt, poorly hidden behind a sneer as he glared over Patton’s shoulder, “What thing?”

Patton arched an eyebrow at Virgil, not noticing as Virgil physically braced for the coming lecture. It hurt, of course, being lectured like this by Patton. So early in the morning. And Logan’s passing affirmation didn’t help.

It was ten minutes before Patton finally seemed to run out of steam, noticing Virgil’s stiff posture and downcast eyes. He took in a deep breath, “Look, kiddo-“

“Don’t call me that.” He snarled back, taking a step back into his room, “I get it. None of you want me here. Whatever.”

“That’s not it at all!” Patton cried, taking a step into the room. He blocked Virgil from closing the door before he’d even moved to do so, “We’d just like you to try a little harder not to affect Thomas-“

“Exactly. You don’t want me here.” Virgil’s voice cracked a little, and he sneered up at Patton to mask it. “I get it.”

Patton had never seen pain in Virgil’s eyes before, then again, he’d never actually looked. It shook him so much, he took a step back, “Anxiety…kiddo…”

“I said don’t call me that!” Virgil’s temper finally flared, and he slammed the door shut, ending the conversation with a finality Anxiety wished he could take back.

Neither of them moved, but Virgil tried to mask the dejected, broken sob that escaped him before he hurried back to his bathroom. Doubt gave him a knowing look, but was silent as Virgil curled up on the floor.

Three different voices, three different requests (or demands in Roman’s case), three different meals passed by before Virgil was able to pull himself together. And when he did, Doubt was still there, waiting.

Virgil looked like a mess. He was a mess. His hair was ruffled, his eyeshadow streaked down his face, eyes stinging and bloodshot and puffy. But he didn’t care.

“How do we do this?” he held himself up over the basin.

Doubt grinned at him.

I won’t be tagging for this fic anymore, considering it’s a finished work on AO3. It just saves me time to get this UP so I can start regularly updating ANYCWF.

#Fanfic #Sanders Sides #Not Enough #Endgame LAMP #Flashback chap #swearing tw #panic tw #nightmare tw #abandoment tw #Virgil #Logan #Roman #Patton #OC Doubt

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peakyposts · 6 years

Text

Take the Shot

Finn Shelby

The Shelby’s were used to having guns pointed to their faces, though there had never been a beautiful young woman on the other end of it. Finn Shelby stared down the barrel, trying hard to look composed just as his brothers had told him. It was a bit hard when the prospect of dying was an inch away from you.

“You don’t want to do that,” he drawled, his eyes not leaving yours, “my brothers will be know and even if they are against hurting women, I’m sure they’d make an exception for me.”

“And why should I be afraid of your brothers?” You tried to sound unafraid, but your voice wavered slightly, the boy showed no sign of noticing, “you’re just some canal rat who broke into my father’s shop.” He noticed your hands shaking a bit around the gun, unaccustomed to the feel of it. You were boasting about shooting but clearly you would not be able to go through with it. Finn smirked and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Just some canal rat? You have no idea who I am?” He was surprised but he kept his voice even, you shook your head, your gun lowering the slightest bit making him smirk, “alright then, I will just take what your father owes my brother and I’ll be on my way.” Standing he took his time to straighten out his cap and jacket, not caring that the gun was following him as he moved about the small shop.

“My Father owes a lot of men,” you said, still trying to understand who this boy was, “he’s paid everyone for the month, I’m sure of it.”

“Then I’m just a common thief stealing nothing from this shop other than a few pounds and a bag of sweets, take the shot, love, you’ll be doing some justice for your Father,” He was teasing, not even bothering to look back at you or the loaded weapon. That is until he heard you finally pull the hammer back. He froze, hand hovering above the cash box.

“Get out of my shop on your own or I will drag you out myself.”

His hands slowly raised making you smile, stepping slowly he turned back around to face you, though he wasn’t afraid. His smirk hadn’t left his face.

“Someone will be back tomorrow, then, make sure your father is here,” he said. You only nodded, continuing to follow him as he made his way to the front of the shop to the door, not where he’d come in from. “I’m keeping the sweets, though.”

“Get out.” He waved and slipped out, his departure finally making you let out a sigh you’d been holding. What did a boy want with just a handful of pounds?

It was the question you asked your best friend the next morning as you helped with her flower sales.

“Maybe it was a bet with his mates?” She offered, smiling at the man who’d just bought a rose. A woman came over and started examining a bouquet of wildflowers, unaware that they were stolen from the manor two neighbourhoods over.

“No, he kept going on about his brothers and my father owing them money,” you whispered. The woman looked up at you, unaware of the conversation and claimed she wanted to see a better selection. Your friend shooed her off, stating there were none better in all of Birmingham. “Wasn’t even afraid that I had a gun, as if I wasn’t going to shoot him.”

“Were you going to?”

“No, but he had no way of knowing that.”

You both laughed, the thought of either of you doing any harm being funny to anyone. The most harm you two had ever done is steal a few flowers for the sake of a family’s health.

The day’s sales went on as you spoke about anything but guns and boys. Until both showed up at the corner you stood on, in the form of a tall, dark man who looked like the personification of trouble. You couldn’t help but sigh at the way your friend looked him up and down.

“Good morning, sir,” your friend greeted, putting on a smile that would draw any man’s attention. You rolled your eyes, she’d do anything to sell some flowers, a fit boy to flirt with was just a bonus. Without a word he plucked a single rose out of the bin, holding it up between them. “That’ll be two pence.” You couldn’t help but just watch as the boy removed his cap, holding it to his chest as he smiled down at her. “How about I buy you a drink instead?” Your hand covered your mouth, you’d recognized him before but now you were sure. He was one of the Peaky Blinder boys, your best friend was about to reject a fucking Peaky Blinder. She glanced over at you, the corners of her mouth raised as they usually did at times like this. However, just as she opened her mouth to speak you piped up.

“She’d love to, her name is Evelyn Brown and she’ll love that drink,” you spoke quickly, not giving her any chance to object. The two looked at you with eyebrows raised and you smiled, the boy turned back to Evelyn and took her hand in his.

“I’m Isaiah Jesus, and I will meet you at eight tonight at the Garrison, we’re having a little party,” he said kissing the top of her hand. He stood straight and slipped his cap back on, bringing the rose to his nose he offered one last smile before he walked off.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You better be thanking me, if you’re on the arm of a Blinder you’ll be set for life,” you said, “and he’s fit, at least if nothing else happens you’ll get a good fuck out of it.”

“You’re vile.”

“You‘re worse.”

Evelyn had showed up at your door at percisely seven that evening, her hair curled up to her jaw and wearing clothes that she obviously did not own.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” She asked, pushing past you and into the house. You were still dressed in what you were wearing that morning, the city’s dirt and grime from the day still covering every inch of you. “Hm?”

“Why would I be dressed?” She scoffed, the answer clearly obvious. Not saying a word she walked up the stairs and towards your bedroom. It took a second but you realized what she was getting at, “I’m not going to the Garrison tonight, my father told me to stay in, I promised I would.”

“And when have you ever kept a promise?” You groaned, she was right but you didn’t want it said out loud. “Now strip and find something to wear, I’ll draw a bath.”

The Garrison was in full swing when you’d arrived, the place filled with women and men with peaked caps. The two of you stayed linked together, taking in the environment with a sense of awe. You’d been to parties but nothing as large as this. You’d found Isaiah easily, sitting with his back to the bar, surrounded by others as he told what looked to be a story of great action. However, you weren’t focused much on him, it was the boy who sat next to him who had caught your attention.

“Taking a liking to Finn Shelby, then? Aiming high, I see,” Evelyn said from next to you. You froze at the name, pulling her tighter to you when she made to walk off. “What’s wrong?”

“I pointed a gun at a Shelby, I threatened to shoot Finn fucking Shelby,” you whispered, but the noise of the people around you drowned you out, Evelyn frowned and pulled you along, not bothering to ask what you’d said. You kept your head down, not noticing Isaiah waving at the two of you. All you could think about was what the Shelby’s will do to your father, you were going to shoot their youngest, they wouldn’t take that lightly. You just hoped Finny Shelby hasn’t told them about the incident yet.

“So, this is the famous Evelyn Brown? You’re the girl who sells flowers by the shoemaker’s shop, right?” Someone asked, Evelyn agreed, saying something about how it was the best corner since men had to pass it on their way back from work, women loved to be surprised by flowers.

“And who’s your friend?” Evelyn nudged you, but you refused to look up, only doing so when she not so subtly stomped on your foot. You glared at her and finally looked around and the group, making a point to avoid Finn’s eyes. He was looking right at you, and for awhile too.

“This is y/n, her dad owns the candy shop by the cut,” Evelyn explained, none of them greeted you, they’d all turned to look at Finn instead.

“Is this the girl?” Isaiah asked, Finn nodded and looked down at the drink in his hands, “you scared the living crap out of him, man has never had a gun pulled on him in his fucking life.” The words surprised you, back at the shop he’d looked so calm, humoured by your display almost. It was probably something taught to him, look unfazed at all times, you’d heard about how his brothers did the same sort of thing.

“Don’t mean to sound rude or nothing but you have some balls on you, mate,” another boy said, tipping his glass to you before taking a drink. They talked about that day as if it was a momentous occasion, something to be celebrated, but all you wanted to do was go back home and hug your father. It would be your fault if he showed up one day all bloodied and bruised, unaware of what his daughter did.

The conversation slowly shifted, the two of you getting drinks of your own as you joined in. Evelyn had at some point ended up at Isaiah’s side, pressed against him as if they’d been together for years. You talked to some of the others, your mind not leaving the fact that Finn was still watching you from his spot at the bar.

“Y/n? Can I speak to you for a second?” The voice made you stiffen, it was the same voice from your shop and you knew Finn was standing right behind you then. “Now, if you don’t mind?” You turned to face him, though your eyes found Evelyn’s first and all she offered was a drunken smile and a wave of her hand to urge you on. All she ever cared about was having fun and finding a man to bed. With no help from her you finally looked at Finn, he looked down at you with a look that was much different from that other morning. “Follow me, it’s too loud here.” He surprised you by taking your hand in his, everything told you to pull it away, but you knew it was for the better. You’d easily get lost in a crowd this big if you were just trying to follow closely behind him. He led you to the back of the pub and into what looked like an office before shutting the door, it only muted the sounds from outside, but it was an improvement.

The moment he turned after shutting the door, you couldn’t help but spit out what you were hoping would defuse any bad feelings between the two of you, “I am so sorry, if I knew who you were I would have never pulled the gun on you, I should’ve just given-“

“Y/n!” Your mouth instantly shut, lips pulled into your mouth making a point that you were done talking. “I’m not mad.” But him being mad was not you concern. It was his brothers’ feelings that had you so anxious.

“Your broth-“

“I haven’t told them.” You couldn’t help but sigh in relief, no Shelby’s will be knocking on your father’s door for anything other than a tenner any time soon. “They wouldn’t do much anyway, probably send you a note thanking you for showing their brother that he wasn’t invincible because of his name.”

You tilted your head, considering the boy in front of you. He was only a kid, your age at best, it was probably the most frightened he’d ever been. Even if he ran with the Blinders. Having his brothers always meant he’d be protected, he probably never thought in a million years he’d be staring down a gun without the knowledge his brothers would come save him.

“I just wanted to thank you for that,” he finally said, he’d removed his hat at some point allowing him to run his fingers through his hair nervously. The confident boy who you found rummaging around your shop was gone and replaced by the someone completely opposite. You had to admit you liked this Finn better, nothing like the rest of the Shelby’s. “And I’d never seen any girl other than my sister and aunt hold a gun before.” Your eyes widened, noticing the tips of his ears turning red as he said the words. He was starting to fidget with the cap in his hands, rolling and unrolling it, giving him something to focus on other than you.

“How’d you feel about it?” You asked.

The corners of his mouth rose, giving you a small smile before he shrugged.

“We should get back out there before anyone gets any ideas,” he said, motioning to the door behind him, “I’ll buy you a drink, c’mon.’

“Do you even need to buy anything from here?”

“I do if I want Harry to keep quiet about me drinking.”

“Fair enough.”

He grinned and took your hand again before he opened the door letting the noise flood back in. Your eyes scanned the room again and when they reached the front door, you saw Evelyn leaving, a certain Peaky Blinder hot on her heels.

“Fuck, I bet he couldn’t get her to leave with him tonight,” you heard Finn mumble, you smiled and shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Trust me, they’re two of the same person, we won’t be seeing them again tonight, or in the morning.”

You both laughed and finally walked out of the room, heading straight for the bar. Who knew you’d end up drinking with the boy who you almost shot only two mornings ago?

#finn shelby #peaky blinders #finn shelby imagines #finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #isaiah jesus #mine

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shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl · 7 years

Text

What if Goodbye Despair was a stage play

A/N Continuing from the one where class 78’s killing game was a stage play, class 77 got inspired by and got permission from class 78 to do this, this AU features Hajime with SHSL Guidance Counselor, by @ronin-warriorsfanatic

“The traitor is among you” Monokuma’s voice rang.

Backstage we see Junko reprising her role as Monokuma, and Hina acting under the roll of Usami/Monomi, Chihiro and the real Ryouta are working on a computer to get the animation for each murder sequence ready.

“This is going to be a huge hit.” Chihiro stated.

“Yeah, there’s a limit to special effects, and the animation here is the best I could do under short notice.”

“It’s fine, Ryouta, besides everyone’s gonna love it.”

It started with a simple idea, the first play featured Hope vs Despair, while that battle is played out once again, Chiaki had a better idea than just repeating the message, she wants to prove that Talent doesn’t have to be everything in life, let’s go back 2 months after class 78’s finished play. Makoto sat at his usual spot at the cafeteria, usually classes don’t interact with each other, but the Ultimate Gamer, Chiaki Nanami decided to sit next to him today.

“The play your class did last time was amazing.” Chiaki said suddenly.

“Chiaki…thank you.”

“Which is why I wanted to do a version of it with my class, and was hoping for your permission.” Chiaki asked.

“Of course you can, we didn’t patten it or anything.”

“With that said, they got to work… Makoto, Byakuya, and Kyoko gathered with the 77th class to discuss the details of the play. The class discussion was mostly similar to how 78 did it the first timr, punishments based on talents, but due to constraints, they had to anaimate each execution, from there they decided who to die and who gets executed. They even got multiple costumes that Junko loaned, and Tsumugi Shirogane from the 79th class to edit each one just incase the specific scenarios came into play, and Kaede Akamatsu from the same class to perform the music to help set the mood for the story

Teruteru offered to be the killer for the first case, but nagito’s idea to kill someone was a good choice as well, so they added elements of his plan into the first case.

Everyone there voted for Hajime to be the main protagonist here, and he offered to pretend to not remember his talent to sell the point of "talent not being everything”, and came up with the Kamukura persona as “SHSL Hope” for a plot point, Tsumugi loaned them a long black wig to use. They all accepted this, they also brought over Kotoko from the elementary division to play Hiyoko (to set up a huge plot twist)

Peko offered both the death of Natsumi Kuzuryu as a motive, and Sparkling Justice as a plot point. Mahiru offered to be the victim of this case, and that Hiyoko offered her character to be hit with the blame.

What Surprised everyone was that Mikan offered to be a killer at some point, and that both Ibuki and Hiyoko offered to be her victims.

Gundham of course chose to be a killer, but Nekomaru offered it at the same time, so they both wrote 2 versions of that part of the script and the proceeding trial, and acted them out, the version woth Gundham as the killer worked better for all of them, so they went with that.

Hajime was chosen to survive due to his plot armor, Sonia volunteered to be a survivor, Fuyuhiko didn’t feel like killing nor being murdered, so he bevame a survivor Kazuichi became a survivor for comedic effect, and Akane had the same reason as Fuyuhiko.

Throuout the process, Nagito offered for his character to be the personification of Hope’s Peak’s philosophy. He set up a scenario where his death looks like a suicide, but the “traitor” grabbed something filled with poison, and have that person throw it. They all enjoyed the idea of that.

The rest was history, Junko would take the stage for the sixth class trial, chihiro will pretend to be Alter Ego, and each execution would be animated due to time constraints and an inability to actually perform each execution on the stage. The real Mitarai made each video of the killers, and shown them to his class, they all approved his work. Mahiru worked on creating fake photos for both the second motive, and some of “Izuru Kamukura” being the Ultimate Photographer made it a sinch to create fake photos.

Now back to the show, the Ultimate imposter took his togami disguise off, and his school clothes were underneath.

“I don’t know how much longer I could’ve gone.” TUI stated.

“Ah, you did well for being a fake Togami.” Hina said after covering her mike.

“Yeah, Shirogane really did some amazing work with the costumes and crap.” Junko added, doing the same.

Back on stage:

“The killer is you, Teruteru Hanamura, the Ultimate Chef!” Hajime declared.

Chihiro and Mitarai took that as their cue to activate the video where Teruteru was tar and feathered by monokuma, then dipped into the volcano.

Sometime later, Teruteru returned backstage.

“You fought really well out there Teruteru!” Hina complimented.

“Thank you, thank you, you’re too kind, now if you excuse me, I have to make the dishes for the after party.” The midget chef informed before heading off.

The deaths of Mahiru and Peko were next, Peko profusely apologizing to Mahiru for such a death, but Mahiru shook it off as no big deal, and gave kudos to Peko’s performance.

Later Ibuki and Kotoko wound up dead, and Mikan execuded. Mikan started crying backstage, and hugged both of them, they hugged her back as a sign of forgiveness, and complimented her performance.

At this point, references to class 78’s play were profusely shown, and the audience clapped when they noticed each reference.

The idea of a “Mechamaru” was one the coach came up with himself, and after his death, Gundham was found guilty. Both of them returned backstage to watch the end of the play.

Next, Nagito’s character went completely insane, and his unsolvable murder-suicide began. It was heart wrenching, the audience shed tears when they saw him all tortured and bloody. Once back stage, he changed into clean clothes while Mikan took care of any potential injuries, class 77’s ultimate lucky student tended to suffer from some form of disease in real life, and Mikan’s been treating it in real life, although she didn’t really need to.

The trial went on slightly longer then the others to show off the complexity of this case, but when they reached the end.

“Do you understand what you’re saying!? You’re asking me to kill you!” Hajime yelled.

“Don’t vote for me because I’m the traitor, put your faith in me and the bonds we forged here.”

At this point, monomi and Chiaki were killed brutally, and Chiaki made it backstage.

“Chiaki…you did great out there.” Mahiru stated.

“Thank you, but Nagito deserves some credit, I mean..his death was the perfect unsolvable murder.”

“You’re too kind, but I’m glad I could serve as a stepping stone to make this play shine as bright as it possibly can.”

“Not this again, Nagito, you have a vouce in the class just as much as the rest of us.” Mahiru sighed.

The sixth trial soon began, Makoto took the stage, then pretended to be a program Monokuma created, then left as soon as he was found out. Monokuma referenced Frieza from DBZ, then after Chihro activated the smoke effect, Junko took the stage in a cellphone prop, Makoto shortly rejoined the trial with Kyoko and Byakuya shortly after. Then Junko fell to defeat once again once the survivors and class 78 members triggered “force shutdown”, with that the last execution played with Usami defeating the giant Junko.

Bonus:

With the completion of the play, the crowd began cheering loudly, and the applause sounded like thunder.

“Wow, killing game plays really are getting popular here.” Hajime stated.

“It’s because they enjoyed the first one and the omakes to it that the sequel to danganronpa did so well.” Chiaki added.

“Well, you guys worked hard on it, you should be proud of yourselves, and the plot points were amazing as well.” Makoto praised.

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yuki-d-raizel-blog · 6 years

Text

Number 1333

Chapter 2/??

Summit: What happens if a mysterious prisoner joins the chaotic Cell 13? He is perfect for the Nanba Prison, his name is synonym of terror and cruelty; each time he was sent to a new prison, he broke out in less than an hour. Will the Nanba Prison succeed to keep him jailed or not…?

---

Almost a week has passed since the famous killer’s arrive, but Jyugo and his friends didn’t have the chance to talk with him, but Uno studied him a lot: he’s always alone, doesn’t talk with anyone and people avoid him like he was the personification of death. Today is the right moment, lunch is done so they have ton of time; now, Nico must start the chat, so No. 25 approaches him again.

<<Hi, No. 33-kun, how are you today?>> he speaks with his cheerful voice, <<You don’t know what a manga is, right?>> the prisoner shakes his head, so Nico continues, <<I can teach you that, are you ok with it?>>

“Those ideograms… Is a Japanese book?” he thinks moving from his curled up position, assuming a normal sit one.

<<Manga are basically Japanese comics. You don’t need your imagination to live the story, it has drawings that show you the main character’s adventures.>> Nico opens it and shows a few pages to him, <<It’s so cool! You know, I can’t read but the drawings help me a lot! There are amazing heroes and heroine, cool villains, beautiful views->>

<<That…. Manga, has a hero as main character?>> the Cell 13 stays shocked as he speaks.

<<Yeah, I won’t do spoilers but->> Nico’s excitement is destroyed but that sorrowful tone.

<<Why?>>

<<What, why?>>

<<Why do you read heroes’ stories? I don’t get it.>> he continues looking at the pages of the comic, <<No matter how much trouble you’re in, there’s never gonna be a hero to show up to your rescue.>>

<<You’re too dark, man!>> comments Uno breaking the heavy atmosphere, <<Oi, we really have Jyugo’s twin here.>>

<<Stop saying that!>> reclaims Number 15, <<He’s not even similar to me->>

<<The fact that he is dark, depressed and listless, are enough common points for me, right Rock?>>

<<Yup, definitely.>> replies No. 25 with a laugh.

<<You bastards…>> Uno ignores Jyugo’s groan and walks near No. 33.

<<Listen, these are fantasy stories, they aren’t the reality.>> explains Number 11 with a smile, <<By the way, I’m Uno, nice to meet ya.>>

<<So… People read this because they need a hero?>> everyone sees his face, it’s like a child that discovered something new, <<Can I see it?>>

<<Sure thing!>> answers Nico happy, “Uno-kun was right, he’s not scary at all!”

While Number 33 reads the pages curiously, the others approach him and sit around him maintaining the distance, they made a progress, let’s not fuck it up.

<<What’s your name?>> asks Jyugo looking at him, he really looks like a child.

<<Ayu.>> he responded with a lifeless voice, it’s like… he didn’t bother himself to choose a tone to match a feeling, and another weirdo came into the Nanba Prison.

<<Ayu, do you like Italian food?>> Rock’s cheeks are a little red for the excitement, <<Or you have a typical dish that you want to eat?>>

<<I’ve never tried such a thing.>>

<<C’mon, you were all around the world, when you broke out you could eat something, right?>> says Uno with a sarcastic tone, <<You’re just shy.>>

<<I’ve never tried it.>> he repeats flipping the page, studying the manga, <<You already know my name, so it’s easier for me to explain it. I travelled around the world just to meet the people that I wanted, that’s all. I never stopped to eat in a restaurant or something like that if it wasn’t for a mission.>>

<<So you don’t know what a videogame is either, right?>> says shocked Nico, <<You know them, right?>>

<<Videogame? In this prison you have a lot of strange things.>>

<<That’s terrible! Here, here!>> Nico grabs his hand and drags him in front of the TV, <<I’ll show you, so don’t worry!>>

---

Little by little, the others start to know Ayu better and they can’t believe what they discover; he doesn’t know anything about the world outside, if not only things related to kill people, he doesn’t know how to express his emotions and doesn’t know how they’re called, is he a robot?! They find it more shocking when they discover that he can speak and read about 25 languages, he’s an excellent strategist, he knows a lot about medicine and weapons, he even knows how to hack a computer and get inside the Nanba system to do whatever he is doing. Just like Jyugo, he can open every door, but when it comes with the most modern ones, he spends more time to open them… Jyugo stays to his throne of King of jail-breaking. They find out that he’s very honest, he says whatever he wants without minding people’s feeling or the situation, they must teach him how to interact with someone without make them cry or upset.

Well, at least they convinced him to be more around them so he can learn much more, and without notice it, the new year is around the corner.

<<Ayu~>> Uno approaches the young boy with a comb and a tube of hair gel, <<Let’s make you a little more stylish!>>

<<!?>> the man couldn’t run away in time that the prisoner jumped on him to take off his cloak, <<N-no, stop oi!>>

<<Yes, yes, let me do my job!>> both are using the black cloak as a rope and they are pulling it hardly, one for keeping it, the other to steal it, <<C’mon!>> with a powerful push, Uno wins the match and forces Ayu to sit in front of him and not move.

Rock, Nico and Jyugo are watching the transformation, Uno’s skilled hands are curling up those straight hair, and move them to highlight Ayu’s lineaments. Once he finishes, he brushes his hair a little to volumize them and then takes a few steps backwards to check his work.

<<Done!>> he announces happy and proud.

<<…….>> Ayu stays quiet and embarrassed while the others stare at him amazed. “I want my cloak back… I feel vulnerable without it.”

They didn’t know that he could be so cool, that cute little blush gives color to his pale skin, his eyes are so beautiful and with the light, they are changing color to a water-green shade, which is more beautiful, his hair has the perfect match for those colors. Well, he is-

<<….Fuck you!!!>> shouts Uno throwing the cloak back at him, <<Why the hell you are so handsome?! Screw you!>>

<<You’re are the one who suggested to do this.>> talks back Ayu, <<Fix my hair back. I don’t like when people look at m->>

A loud sound of hoofs is echoing inside the building, when suddenly, the door is break down by a white horse.

<<Hello gentlemen! Rise and shine!>> Yamato’s loud voice announces his arrive and his pet does the same.

<<The door!!>>, <<A horse?!>> only Ayu and Nico stare confused at the scene.

“Why this prison is so full of idiots? Why the hell a guard would go around with a freaking horse?” thinks Ayu looking at the situation.

<<This is my partner, Yamatomaru.>> says Yamato getting off the saddle.

<<Who asked?!>> , <<What to do you want?!>>

<<Since today is New Year’s Eve, I’m going around in each cell asking everyone to create decorations for New Year’s.>> he explains laying all the necessary the prisoners need to do their job.

<<Yeah but… on a horse?>> asks Number 33 confused, that prison is so new to him, everyone is so happy and thoughtless, things are good like the food, the library, the cells. He still has to recognize that that is the most secure prison in the world.

<<I have a lot to carry!>>

<<New Year’s… That means…>> Uno swallows and No. 25 and No. 69 walk next to him and suddenly put their fists up cheering excited, <<A Japanese event!!>>

Jyugo sits next to Ayu and looks hopelessly, every time this thing happens, every single time…. Ah, what a pain.

<<New Year’s food!>> , <<There’s flower viewing, too!>> , <<I wanna go to Comiket!>>

<<Why they talk like foreigners? Is this what you were talking about when that weird ninja came here?>>

<<Yeah, their brains switch in a weird mode every time there’s something correlated to Japan.>> comments Jyugo, <<What about you? You don’t do it?>>

<<I don’t even know how these things work, I’ll just watch.>> whispers Ayu putting his hood on, <<I’m used to do different things, this sound too new for me, I prefer to stand aside->>

<<Oi you two, help cleaning!>> Rock throws a mop towards them, but he used too much strength, <<Oh crap! Watch out!>>

<<…….>>

Everyone stays surprised, staring at Ayu who just did something really unexcepted and cool. He grabbed the mop directed on Jyugo’s face, and stopped it with some kung-fu thing movements. Now, he has that focused look and stands with the stick inclined under his foot…

<<Amazing! Teach me that move!>> shouts Nico enthusiastic, bringing the friend back, <<Please!>>

<<Um… S-sorry…>> he quickly grabs the stick, gives it to Uno and runs away from the cell.

<<Was I too noisy?>> whispers No. 25 disappointed with himself, he really wanted to learn that move.

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

#nanbaka #nanba prison #nanbaka jyugo #jyugo #nico nanbaka #uno nanbaka #rock nanbaka #hajime sugoroku #yamato godai #nanbaka fanfiction #nanbaka scenario #scenarios #fanfictions #anime #manga

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sssssssim · 7 years

Note

Can you please write a review for Thor : Ragnarok?

oh my god

I CAN SURE TRY!

Spoilers ahead, obviously. Also, a few disclaimers. This are my own personal hella subjective opinions. And I read the last Magnus Chase book right before seeing the movie. Magnus Chase is a Norse demigod and in the last book, he stops Loki from starting Ragnarok, and I really think the series influenced me a little. Still, you asked, I shall deliver.

Let’s split this review into several parts, nine points of interest: general plot, intrigue and shock value, funny vs drama, visuals, character personification and development, character relationships, actors, integration in MCU and miscellaneous.

(This has 2700 words. oops.)

1. General plot

The plot of this movie was a pretty complicated one, I think, in the sense that a lot happened. The action takes place on three different planets, but to be fair, the action is linear, mostly, (except for the two flashbacks). There are just a few scenes that Thor isn’t a part of, a couple from Hela’s POV, from Skurge’s or Heimdall’s.

I found the start a bit… boring. Until Thor ends up on Sakaar, the plot was used to explain things, to update the viewer at where the world is at, in that moment. While this was needed, I found myself yawning, a little, thinking they should hurry things up.

But then, the action did change its pacing, or maybe I just got more interested in the actual plot of the movie.

I can’t really say anything too bad about the general plot. It was okay, it was entertaining, it was simple enough to understand but complicated enough for it to not be boring.

I’ll say two things, though.

It may have been a little obvious. I mean, I kinda figured out the main outcome of the film a little earlier than they expected me too. I knew they weren’t going to stop Ragnarok from happening since Loki made it to the final fight on Asgard.

They never actually said the whole Ragnarok prophecy out loud. Granted, had they done so, the major plot twist at the end wouldn’t have been so shocking. Cause, as far as I know (from Magnus Chase, maybe it’s different in the actual Norse Myth), there are a lot of “steps” that need to happen before Ragnarok, and Loki triggering it (with the helmet and the fire) is one of them.

2. Intrigue and shock value

When it comes to this, Thor: Ragnarok delivered, and it delivered a lot. There were a lot of times I gasped out loud (or acted like a child and hit my friend’s arm in excitement oops), and not just at the big, major plot twists. There were times when I realized a reference, when I made a correlation to mythology or to something else from Marvel, and so on.

In my opinion, the smaller intrigues were a lot better than the big one.

In most stories, there is one main plot twist, the intrigue which leads to the final outcome. In this movie’s case, it’s the fact that Ragnarok is triggered. That Thor makes a choice and doesn’t stop Ragnarok from happening, urging Loki to actually start the apocalypse.

And like I said before, I saw that one coming.

But. A lot of the smaller intrigues, the mini plot twists, those I hadn’t seen coming, the ones that made me gasp in excitement, I enjoyed the heck out of them. Hela being Odin’s daughter, the quinjet showing Nat, Heimdall stealing the sword, Loki actually joining the fight, and so on and so forth.

And the best one, the one shocking scene that pushed all of my buttons, is the one when Thor, one eye down and presumably killed by Hella, lands on the bifrost ready to fight. Ya know the scene I’m talking about. The one where there’s electricity coursing through his veins and lighting up his eye, the scene that made you think more of Zeus (and Jason Grace) before you remembered that Thor is the God of Lighting and that you’re finally seeing it. The scene where Immigrant Song started playing in the background, as Thor was more badass than ever, and you, as a fan, completely lost it in the movie theater. That scene. I loved it.

3. Funny vs drama

Thor: Ragnarok is a funny movie. There’s no doubt about that.

You have various types of humor, be it situational (Thor screaming his lungs out while he’s in the chair on Sakaar, Valkyrie falling off her ship) or intentional (I’ll be Tony Stark).

Some of the humor is cheesy, some of it is cringy, some of it is amazing (Korg was the absolute best).

Bottom line, it is a comedy. It makes you laugh.

When it comes to the drama, though, it’s a bit… weird. Because, for me at least, the moments that were supposed to be dramatic and were supposed to make me Feel Things didn’t do much (Odin’s death, Valkyrie’s last battle). Not immediately, any way.

I feel like when it comes to drama, Thor: Ragnarok is a film that delivers it like a saline drip. Drop by drop, over a long period of time.

For example, Odin’s death scene didn’t affect me as I was watching the movie. But as I started thinking about it afterwards, holy fuck did it hurt. Because Odin wanted both of his sons there, and Loki finally got the recognition he always desired from Odin. But Odin was still Odin, and he left them with the biggest problem they ever faced, a problem they knew nothing about. And the worst thing, the thing that made me cry when I realized it, was the fact that Odin, as opposed to Freya, he chose when to die. Which must have been such a horrible feeling for Thor and Loki, wasn’t it?

And another example I wish to mention is a scene with Thor and Loki on the ship, at the end. Thor saying I’d hug you if you were here, and Loki responding with I’m here. That was brilliant. I’ll get back to that on a later chapter.

4. Visuals

The visuals are 100% the best part of the movie. They were absolutely brilliant.

The CGI was incredible, have you seen Fenrir? The Hulk really got an upgrade, the scene with the Valkyrie’s last battle was breathtaking, the fight between Hulk and Thor was badass (was anyone else having flashbacks of Gorilla City, then? Of Barry vs. Grood?). I mean, hell, scene 1, Thor meets Surtur, the evil dude was beautiful. And don’t get me started on Korg and all the other aliens we catch a glimpse of.

The cinematography was incredible. Well done slo-mo just when you needed it, cohesive framing throughout the movie. There were a couple of scenes that were above the else. Like Hela walking into the Throne Room where Thore is waiting, the camera panning to the ground, we just see her shadow growing horns. The Valkyrie’s last battle was a Renaissance painting come to life.

The sets were incredible, Sakaar especially. A weird combination of steampunk and trash, with a little wannabe class inserted into the higher ups of society. Honestly, I loved the whole 80s vibe it had going on.

The costumes were incredible. Not just Thor’s armour. Not just the Valkyrie’s battle gear, Loki’s fighting suit, Hela’s sinful curves. But also the Grandmaster’s outfits, the people’s outfits when they were celebrating the Hulk, the suit Loki wore on Earth. All the clothes of the hundreds of extra in the background of Sakaar scenes.

The makeup was incredible. While Hela was wearing a full on black smokey eye, it was made special by its shape. The white symbols the bounty hunters wear on Sakaar were different from person to person and from day to day.

Thor: Ragnarok might just be the best good looking Marvel movie. There’s a clear 80s vibe all throughout it (not just in the visuals, but music as well) and I didn’t hate it. I actually kind of freaking loved it.

5. Character personification and development

This wasn’t something I particularly paid a whole lot of attention to as I was watching the movie.

But as I thought about it afterwards, I came to the conclusion that that happened because of all characters acted so well, so organic, nothing bad caught my attention.

In this movie, we see Thor, finally!, as what he’s supposed to be: a king. Everything we see before he takes the throne in the end of the movie, is to make us realize that Thor will be a good kind. He evolves in this, of course he does. From the moment he loses his father and his hammer, he starts to mature, heading towards the responsibility of being kind.

… Not all the way, though. He still bickers with Loki and has no idea how to talk to a woman (poor Valkyrie), so he’s still the Thor we know and love.

But he is something more. He’s a new king, which is a job he took even before he took the throne. There have been discussions about how Thor manipulated Hulk/Banner into doing his bidding. I kinda agree with that statement, and it was a crap thing to do, but it was a necessary crap thing Thor needed to do in order to save his people. Honestly, most kings screw up like this, sooner or later.

Now, let’s talk about Loki. He had the most evident character development, considering he finally redeemed himself.

If you know me or you’ve been around here for a while, you know I usually don’t like redemption arcs. And I still don’t.

But this one, I liked this one. Probably because I liked Loki a whole lot since his very evil begining, but not just because of that. I also enjoyed it because it didn’t happen instantly. After the first Avengers, Loki got two movies to redeem himself.

And he did so by still being an asshole, by still stealing and cheating and being kind of horrible.

He stole the Tesseract, but he did redeem himself in Ragnarok. And I feel like his redemption story isn’t over yet, it’s still at the start.

And, I’ve mentioned the scene before. Thor and Loki on the ship towards the end, I’m here. That was such an emotional scene for me, because for the first time in what felt like forever, Loki actually showed real affection for his brother. And the fact that he was there means so much, in terms of his development. Honestly, I left the movie thinking “I can’t believe Loki’s there”.

Valkyrie needs a mention in terms of character development, it’s pretty evident. I thought it was nicely done, too. I won’t say too much about it, it really is hella obvious, and I enjoyed watching it. Because we got to see a glimpse of how awful her story was, but we also got to see what a Valkyrie is supposed to be, a strong (amazon-like) fighter.

If I start talking about Banner, I’m gonna start crying. I don’t want to do that, so I’ll just say this: you should think about Banner’s state of mind. Waking up after 2 years of Hulk brain, the terrifying thought of never changing back to Banner again, but he still decided to do it. For Asgard and for Thor. The way he play-fighted with Valkyrie in Hulk mode, that was a first, we never saw that side of him before. Bruce’s development is too complicated to explain in words and I just wanna hug Bruce, really.

6. Character relationships

The relationship between Thor and Banner is a tricky one. I’ve mentioned before, the manipulation Thor does with Hulk and Bruce both. But, in the end, they’re still Avengers. They still fight together, side by side to defeat evil. Maybe this relationship wasn’t portrayed in the most healthy manner, but all the Avengers are various levels of fucked up when it comes to mental health. You can’t really accept healthy relationships.

I don’t know if I should be shipping Valkyrie with Thor or with Banner. I don’t wanna ship either, to be honest.

But in terms of relationship development, I feel like it was nicely done, in the sense that it was organic, going with the flow of their own character development.

And I most definitely ain’t shipping her with Loki. I mean, if you do, you do you, boo. But I don’t wike it.

7. Actors

Honestly, I don’t feel like I can say man, this person was absolutely amazing in this scene. I’m not saying the acting was bad, cause it was not. It was good, constantly, everyone did their characters well. But I don’t feel like the scenes gave them an opportunity to showcase their incredible acting scenes. Ya know? I hope that makes sense.

8. Integration in the Marvel Cinematic Universe

First thing first. I think it was the first time a post credits scene was actually included in the next movie. The Doctor Strange post credits scene was a part of Thor: Ragnarok, they just expanded the scene. Which was a very nice touch.

It was also a nice point of start, for introducing Doctor Strange to the Avengers.

The thing is, I was kind of frustrated by my lack of information. If you’ve been here a while, you know I don’t know shit about the comics. All my information comes from the MCU and random wiki pages.

So I just knew enough to know I didn’t know enough. I’m positive I’ve missed so many things. Especially on Sakaar, there were so many aliens and characters I knew nothing about. And it frustrates me, because I know there were probably hella cool references to the extended Marvel universe.

I need to mention the post-credits scene. The first one. The ship one.

I screamed, not gonna lie. Because I was expecting something for the Black Panther, and when I realized what it was, who it was… Yeah, I screamed.

I can’t fucking wait for Infinity War. It’s going so hella epic and I am so not prepared for it, it’s ridiculous. But I loved that we got to see it. How it starts.

9. Miscellaneous

Let me tell you a few other random reasons why I liked Thor: Ragnarok.

The 80s type of music and Immigrant Song.

I recognized Kree writing on the prison on Sakaar.

KORG is the best comic relief in Marvel (and he’s voiced by Taika Waititi, amazing).

We saw Thor on Asgard’s throne (even if it was brief).

The running gag with Thor throwing things at Loki to check if he’s really there.

Loki in chains was a direct reference to the Ragnarok myth.

So was the story Thor told, about Loki and a snake. Kind of.

The fact that Thor said I love women, a little too much sometimes (or smthg like that). Thor confessing he’s a player, bless.

I’ve been waiting to see Thor actually be the God of Thunder since 2011. You don’t understand how much I enjoyed seeing it.

I equally enjoyed seeing Thor in The Helmet. I MEAN.

Thor and Valkyrie destroying those ships, in the sky, while flying was so fucking epic.

Thor and Hulk fighting was even more fucking epic. Great use of slo-mo.

Valkyrie’s flashback was amazing, another great use of slo-mo.

Hela. Everything about her. The costume, the makeup, the hair, the head piece, the transition between the hair and the head piece, her takenobullshit attitude, her badassery.

I laughed a lot when Zachary Levi died, cause they announced he signed a contract with DC just a few days before Thor premiered.

Karl Urban’s ridiculous accent.

Cumberbatch and Hiddleston getting on each other’s nerves.

Thor’s new look.

The whole Valkyrie/Hulk I feel like I know you gag.

Thor. Getting. Powers. Without. The. Hammer.

Let me tell you a few other random reasons why I didn’t like Thor: Ragnarok.

It ended.

I wanted to see more of Bruce, actually talking and dealing with his trauma.

Odin dying a peaceful death. I feel like a god isn’t supposed to die like that.

When they first announced Bruce is gonna be in Ragnarok, I was very excited about seeing him interact with Darcy. … Nope.

I know I missed a lot of things. But… yeah. I loved Thor: Ragnarok. It’s the best of the Thor movies. It might not be the best Marvel movie, but it might have surpassed Guardians when it comes to light and funny Marvel movies.

#thor #thor ragnarok #ragnarok #marvel #sim watches thor

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nefastustenebris · 7 years

Text

tell me you don’t want to fool around - p5 - canon!vers

@ vraileretif TW: bullying

She only had a few seconds before students came back in from the supposed “fire alarm scare”.

Kobayakawa’s office was not that big and thus finding information about a recently retired teacher should not be this hard. She assumed karma was at work, considering she flicked her lighter underneath a fire alarm until it went off - ensuring the evacuation of everyone. Messing with legal forces like that must have made some deity pissed at her because she could not find any dirt on Kamoshida.

Mercy must have been bestowed on her, she found the file tucked away behind a book.

Sitting low into the ground so that no one would be able to see her, she reached for her phone and snapped pages from it.

There was one name in particular that came up - Ryuiji Sakamoto - a boy in class 2-E. He was apart of the track team that was recently disbanded for some unknown reason. He and this teacher seemed to have the most run-ins. Ryuiji was disciplined more than a dog, it seemed.

Ryuiji Sakamoto was now considered suspect #1.

Another name, Akira Kurusu appeared towards the end. He was apparently faced with expulsion, along with suspect #1. Other than that, he doesn’t appear much. Which seemed odd that he would try to expel a student who just transferred. According to the rumours floating around Shujin, Kurusu was considered to be a new transfer student with enough checkers in his past that he could have been considered a king. She hasn’t gotten the specific details about what he did that was so gut-wrenchingly nauseating. Some students mentioned that he peddled drugs, others mentioned that he had problems with aggression. She has seen Akira Kurusu and she could not believe that someone as lithe as himself could be capable of peddling drugs or even landing a well-deserved punch. She had been around criminals, hell, she considered herself one - each criminal had a look so that they would easily network with each other, Akira didn’t fit in that particular pocket of subculture. That left the other girl that hung around Akira - the blonde named Ann. Girls in bathroom frequently talked about her, in less than amorous words. According to many students, Ann was dating Kamoshida and her friend Shiho jumped off the building because of their relationship.

“Who pulled the goddamn fire alarm?!”

Kobayakawa was a man who had a loud voice. When she first met him, she took an instant dislike to him to save the trouble of disliking him later. He was a man with an unrelenting, and annoying, moral compass. Dressed up as a washed-up Pee Wee Herman, he managed to rule the school with both complete vigour and indifference. He did not care what happened to students, but he made sure that his school looked the best at whatever angle its’ viewed from. This Kamoshida incident took a damper on the schools’ reputation, not to mention accepting a convict that apparently managed to become school’s scapegoat in under one day.

He made sure that in under no certain terms would he make her feel welcome. He only allowed her to stay after an elaborate story made up by the man who was blackmailing her. Her blackmailer was a police officer, who immediately got on Kobayakawa’s good side.

“I bet it was that Kurusu kid.” She heard him get slightly closer. Putting the file back in its’ place, she went to the door and opened it slowly so as to not make any noise. She sprinted across the hall and hid behind some lockers. She felt guilty that her so-called elaborate ruse managed to put yet another mark on Akira’s back, but guilt dissipated quickly. She checked her person to make sure she disposed of her lighter. Students began to enter the building slowly. Some were excited at the thought of skipping an entire period and going straight to break, and some were annoyed that this even happened. Some whined about not having sunscreen, some whispered that Akira was really smart to have pulled the fire alarm. She heard some students whisper amongst themselves.

“Kurusu was with us in the class all day, I bet it was the foreign exchange student. She’s really scary, and did you see the way she disrespected that teacher? Plus the fire alarm prank sounds like something an American would do...”

She was more annoyed that they thought she was America. She didn’t know that students thought she was disrespectful. Upon being introduced in the class, the teacher asked her where her books were and she replied that she wouldn’t be needing them as she wouldn’t be sticking around long enough.

Her teacher was Kawakami, a woman with so many eyebags she was the personification of a bloodhound. She was exhausted, the air around her was stagnant and she frequently went on soliloquies about how crap her life was, she made it very clear that she did not appreciate being given yet another problematic student. She felt this was better handled by a male teacher and she shouldn’t have to play babysitter to kids who may or may not start their own underground fighting ring.

Ethelinda Mallory was, as the vernacular described, a bastard. On her first day of school, she set off the fire alarm causing an uproar, just so she could get her hands on a teachers’ file. She had decided from then on out she would blend into the background like her desk mate Yuuki Mishima, a boy so soft-spoken she swore he had a permanent halo attached to his skull.

Blending in with the incoming students, she managed to avoid any suspicion from the staff.

It would be a free period soon, and she was hungry so she might go down to the bread store and try and connect Ryuiji, Akira and Ann to Kamoshida.

She stopped by the staircase and looked down. She was hearing pained moans and groans.

“...Please sto-hng!”

She blinked and walked down a couple of steps and craned her head to see what was happening. She saw Mishima being held by two students; they both looked older than he was - they might have been third years. There was another student, balling his hand up like a fist. He could hear chuckling as Mishima was struggling to get free. The boys’ face was red, and he was struggling to hold back tears.

“Oh fuck no,” she growled under her breath.

The boy with the balled fist raised his arm above his head. Mishima was an easy target, it was even better that the staff here didn’t care about him. Mishima got Kamoshida kicked out, that meant his volleyball scholarship was as good as dead as this bastard was going to be, he hated the way he looked like a wounded deer every god damn time something happens. He’s going to permanently fix that. He was about to swing his fist before something stopped him. He looked behind him and saw a short hair, with long black hair and midnight-coloured eyes. She had freckles on her nose, and a scratch under her eye, on the bridge of her nose and near her mouth. She also had three large marks across on her neck - deep. red - as if something was trying to rip her neck. She looked at him, with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t expecting her to be that strong, her fingers began to turn almost bone-coloured.

“The fuck are you doing?” She whispered. She forced him to look at her. “You have a problem with Mr. Mishima here?” No one answered her. She threw the boy with the fast, hard, against some lockers. “Ya’ll supposed to be prep school boys, so fucking act like it.”

One of the boys who was holding Mishima lunged at her, but she was faster than him and elbowed him so hard in the gut he almost vomited. She spun and kicked him in the cheek. The other boy was about to bolt before Ethelinda clutched the back of his pants and forcefully dragged him back to look at her.

“Where are you going? Hmm?” She asked him. “Look, you and I are reasonable people. So I’m not gonna hurt you, or your little crew. I went easy on you guys because it’s my first day and I know how awful first impressions can be -” she looked at her guy currently trying to stop his cheek from pulsating “however, this dude is a classmate of mine and you were holding him down - not really a fair fight is it?” She looked at Mishima. “So I’ll cut a deal - you touch him again, or even so much as look at him weirdly, I’ll hurt you. I’m not talking about superficial hurt here, I’m talking like that your own mother won’t even recognize you and she’ll have to hire several plastic surgeons just to fix at least one part of you. Don’t do anything to Mishima, or any kid in this school, and I’ll walk along. Oh and..” She forced him to look at her again. “You tell a teacher about this, I’ll break your jaw.” She grinned and gently patted his face.

“Oh and, I’m hungry so can you spot me some money for lunch, and my new friend Mishima.” She smirked. After stealing the bullies lunch money, she let them run off. She turned around and helped Mishima pick up his books. He took them from her gently. “I know I kinda disrespected the teacher back then but... I have some money and I would like to buy you lunch.” She grinned. “Remember, I saved your ass. Not that it should matter but I really wanted to ask you some things, if that’s alright?” Mishima blinked and nodded. “Sure, I think that’s alright. Plus I’m pretty hungry, could you believe someone pulled the fire alarm?”

“Pfft, what a disgrace. Wasting governmental resources like that.” She hoped the Lord wouldn’t strike her down.

“I know, right. Before I go to lunch, I needed to go say hi to my friend and give him something - you can come along if you want.” He wanted to tell Akira about a new request that he saw at the Phan-site. “I’m meeting Akira Kurusu.”

The kid who almost got expelled, and the young little criminal around here. She nodded. “Isn’t he the uh..”

“Oh, yes the rumours aren’t very kind to him but he’s actually very nice. Or well, to me he is. I’m sure he’ll be nice to you too. So coming?”

This was the first time someone invited her along for something. She grinned and nodded and followed him back up the stairs. She slipt her phone out the pocket and got a couple of messages from her blackmailer. She was ready to put her phone back in her pocket when she noticed something odd - a new app installed itself on her phone. She always kept her phone plain. Devoid of pictures, music, and personal mementoes. Aside from the fact she never had friends, any information that will connect this phone to her was considered a liability. She needed to frequently change and destroy phones - putting too many memories in temporary things was a wasteful wish. She only downloaded one game in her life - Candy Crush - so this app being there made her blink.

The app itself had a name called METANAV. It was a red icon, with a white eye looking at her. She tried to move it to delete it, but her screen froze. The app itself started to enlarge itself, taking up half her screen.

“Hey Mish-” she stopped. He was frozen, mid-walk. Everyone else was frozen too. A girl was leaning down to catch her falling pencil case. She turned around, everyone was a standstill.

She looked towards the end of the fall and blinked. There was a fire. She wasn’t entirely sure if this was karma flipping her off again. The fire seemed strangely contained. Just burning at the end of the hall. Soon it began to take shape. She could make out long arms and legs. Horns began to form, wings began to outstretch from its’ back.

She wasn’t sure, but she swore that the fire began to even form a mouth and eyes. They were grinning at her. In the middle of the flames, there was a silhouette of a woman. Long black hair concealed her face. The fire-creature began to lift up its arms with palms outstretched, it waved at her. She looked back at the woman, whose hair slowly began to blowback, revealing her face.

It was her, manically grinning. Sickly yellow eyes open wide, her mouth fixated in a snarl position.

The fire creature bent backwards slightly before lunging forwards, sending streams of red-hot flames after her. The flames began to twist on themselves, coating the entire hallway.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked. She looked up from her fetal position and saw Mishima look at her. She blinked and looked past him. Everyone was moving again.

“Uh yeah...”

“You just suddenly dropped down - you’re not sick are you?” “No, I’m..” she kept looking behind him. Everything was normal, no fire marks on the ceiling. She saw a girl pick up her pencil case whilst silently chastising herself.

“I’m fine... I dropped my..” she looked on the floor. “Candy wrapper.” She dragged an old wrapper from the ground and showed it to him. “Recycling, man. It’s a .. it’s a rush..”

“Well, Akira is right down the hall so I’ll go and speak to him - wanna join?”

“I’m.. I’m good. I’ll hang back.” She got herself up from the cold floor. She watched Mishima walk towards the black-haired boy. He was talking enthusiastically. She checked her phone again, the app was still there. She sighed and pressed on it and dragged it over to the trash icon.

There, gone.

#persona 5 #p5 #p5 rp #persona 5 rp #akira rp #replies #long post #rp #roleplay #persona 5 roleplay #persona roleplay

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mogdaze-blog · 7 years

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Motherly Secrets - Short Story

I can’t exactly remember where I was when I got the news that mother had fallen ill. At work, probably, because I can remember it derailing the flow of my day.

The drive back to Tucson to see her was harder than expected. She’d suffered, the doctor told me, from a series of small strokes in rapid succession - like being shot by a machine-gun, he said. She was able to talk and move a little, but she wasn’t going to walk again, and the most optimistic estimates for her life expectancy still gave her only just South of six months. I was going to have to drop everything and go home, to take care of her in her last, bedridden days.

Anyone who’d think of me as heartless for saying that has clearly never met my mother. In terms of love, care, and affection during my childhood, she ranked somewhere between an old pinecone and an inanimate slab of polished granite. She never beat me or called me names, sure, but her heart was never in the whole “motherhood” thing. As the years went by, I started to feel less like a kid and more like a tumour - this big, unsightly lump of flesh that kept her from living life to the fullest.

It’s hard, making someone your main priority, when you know you were never theirs. But if childhood had taught me anything, it was coping with that exact feeling.

I breathed a long, pained sigh, like a premature death rattle, as I pulled in past the city limits. The second I was of age, I got the hell out of this place, leaving my mother as a fading ghost in the rear-view mirror. Hadn’t been back in the twelve years since, hadn’t ever planned on coming back. Until now.

The house was almost exactly as I’d rembered it, apart from a few changes to the garden. A modest, detached home in the suburbs of Green Valley, with a front fence painted blue and overstuffed hanging baskets dangling on either side of the front window like garish, oversized earrings. The only light on inside was in the top-left window: the room where my mother was staying, and would stay until the end of her days.

It was like stepping back into a photo album full of my worst memories. There was no love here, no joy. Only cold, brutal indifference.

Most of the furniture in the living room and the hallway were all wrapped in plastic, ready to be removed. Mother wouldn’t be using them again, after all. It gave the grim impression that the whole house was just waiting for her to finally buy the farm, and then they could all move on with their lives too. Or maybe that was just projection on my part. Who knows?

“You must be Tania,” said a tired-looking woman in a nurse’s uniform, standing on the stairs, “your mother’s in bed upstairs, I left all her medicine in a cabinet nearby. You should have everything you need.”

This was Mary: mother’s carer, until I arrived to take up the mantel, Dr. Hartmann had mentioned her in his call. I gave her a curt nod and she filed past me, leaving out of the front door, and leaving me alone with the beast. In the silence of the stairway, you could hear her mechanically-assisted breathing echoing out from the open door of the bedroom.

Mom had been suffering from a number of problems for a while, the strokes were just the final nail in the coffin.

“Is that you, little missy?” She hissed, before evening hearing me. That frail, spiteful voice still made me wince. A decade away, and she still had this power over me. It made me more angry than afraid.

“I’m a grown woman, mother,” I said, finally plucking up the courage to ascend the staircase, “you know I don’t like being called that. I always did tell you.”

I stared at her through the bedroom door and found myself shuddering. She looked like the personification of the word “wretched”: this thin, decrepit bag of bones, hooked up to more wires and tubes than an old television set, looking child-sized in the bed she was confined to. Her mouth was covered up by an oxygen mask, but her eyes were still visible.

Those wet, hateful little eyes. A pig’s eyes,

“So you came back,” mother said with a long, wheezing laugh, “honestly, Tania, I didn’t expect I’d get to see you again. I thought you’d already washed your hands of me.”

She coughed and spluttered intermittently. It always sounded like it hurt.

“Of course I came back, mother,” I said, “I want to move on with my life, but to do that, I’m gonna need to tie all this off first. A clean break.”

I didn’t owe her any niceties, not after the way she’s treated me. I’d done a lot of research into the concept of childhood emotional neglect since I’d left the freezer-box mother called home, and I could say with total confidence that she was practically the textbook definition. Why should she get special treatment? A miserable life had earned her a miserable end, and if anyone deserved a sense of closure, it was me. Not her.

“You were always ungrateful, Tania,” she said, averting her eyes from my presence, “my momma, she beat the living crap out of me, did you know that? And my daddy, well he just stood around and watched. Said it was women’s issues, said he didn’t ought to get involved. When I left those sons of bitches and never looked back, I had a damn good reason to. What the hell was your reason for abandoning your mother, Tania?”

Shaking my head, I walked over to mother’s medicine cabinet and began rearranging the bottles of pills and ointments into their proper places. There was no winning with her.

“Can’t abandon someone who was never there, mother,” I said, “I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone.”

Mother made a spiteful little noise and turned her shrivelled head back towards me.

“I did more for you than you’ll ever know, Tania. Seeing you be so god damn disrespectful to me like this, it makes me sick.” She said.

I finally snapped, and turned to meet her gaze.

“Why did you even want me back here, huh? Why? Ever since I got here, all you’ve done is bitch and moan about me,” I said, feeling the skin on my cheeks turning crimson, “what do you want me to do?”

She paused, before taking a long, deep inhale from her oxygen mask. The way it distorted her voice made her sound almost monstrous. Again, maybe that was just projection on my part.

“Tomorrow,” she said, “you can make yourself useful and clean out the attic. Keep what you want, throw the rest in the garbage. You can sleep in your old room until then, I’m too tired to keep arguing with you. You’re impossible, Tania.”

The vitriol was new. What I’d always been used to from my mother was a cold, consistent apathy - never any questions to ask me, and always flat, one-word answers for mine. Maybe I was impossible, because I didn’t have the energy to talk to her any longer. I let my dying mother go to sleep, while I retired to my old bedroom - the walls still plastered with photos of early-2000s boybands and pop singers who were big at the time.

In a way, that was appropriate. If there was one thing my mother was always good at, without fail, it was making me feel small.

***

The next morning, I woke up early to get started on the attic, while mother still snored loudly into the miniature echo-chamber of her oxygen mask. Every slow, robotic noise she made set my teeth on edge. The sooner I could be done with all this donkey-work, the sooner I could rest a little easier while waiting for my mother to finally die.

It was junk, mostly. Disused furniture, broken lights, Christmas decorations that felt ancient to me. I heaved it all into garbage bags and left it in the hallway downstairs, extracting it bag by bag, the attic looking marginally less awful each time. I vacuumed up some of the dust and refuse, worrying that the longer I stayed up there, the more likely it’d be that I’d contract some form of bronchitis.

I’d given up all hope of finding anything interesting somewhere after the third cracked fibreglass Santa model, but found my curiosity piqued again when I discovered a little wooden chest peeking out from underneath a garbage bag full of shattered baubles. It was only a little bigger than a shoebox, I guessed, with a little padlock on the front. Feeling tired from lugging all the bags, I decided to take a break and take the mystery box downstairs with me.

A quick visit from a pair of bolt-cutters under the kitchen sink, and all of the box’s mysteries has been laid bare before me: a stack of old photos in a brown envelope, a cassette player with four matching tapes, and a little cloth bag - no bigger than an apple - tied up with string.

I admit, it was exciting, feeling like I’d stumbled on a real mystery in the midst of this graveyard. I hadn’t expected to have any kind of fun here, so what little I could glean from a box of old artefacts, I’d hold onto tightly and never let go. This was my mystery now.

First, the photos - all polaroids, probably taken in the seventies or the eighties. The first few were just of my mother, when she was much younger, before I ever came into the picture. There was something different about her, something…lighter. Like it was taken before some great weight was lowered onto her shoulders.

Figures, I thought with a grim eye-roll, and continued flipping through.

When I got to the bottom of the stack, the final photo made me pause. It was mother, still, when she was young and happy and beautiful, but she had a little boy with her. They stood together, holding hands, smiling for the photo. I’d never seen her look so cheerful in the flesh - it was like staring into The Twilight Zone.

I flipped the photo, and saw “Me & Jack” scrawled across the back in soft-tip marker. My curiosity was intense and harrowing - it occurred to me, upon looking at this photo, that really I knew almost nothing about my mother. It’d always been just the two of us - no dad, no grandparents. Just me and blank, distant mom.

So it begged the question: who the hell is Jack?

For a second I considered just asking my mother, but I dismissed the notion just as quickly. The second she sensed she could hurt me by withholding information, she’d just clam up and watch with relish as I squirmed. Every little act was a power play now, so I had to do it myself.

The audio tapes, I figured, might have some clues. Each was numbered, so I decided to push them into the recorder and listen. All of them were the voice of my mother from a different time, so much calmer, so much sweeter. The following is the contents of those tapes.

—

Tape 1:

Little Jack is six today, I can’t believe how fast he’s growing. Such a big boy, so tall and broad for his age. I’m not sure why I’m recording this, suppose it’s because I’ve never really felt like this before, and I wanted to remember that this was all real. We can both listen to it when he’s grown, and we’ll laugh that I was ever worried about all this. I feel new, somehow, like I’ve been reborn. He still holds my hand when I take him to school - those lovely little hands of his. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop holding his hand, even when he’s grown. What did I do to be blessed with a little boy like this?

Maybe it doesn’t all have to be bad. Guess mom was wrong, there’s hope for me after all.

Tape 2:

God, fuck. Just fucking…fuck. He’s got a heart condition, it’s defective. It’s fucking defective. The doctor says he can just deteriorate at any time, like a bomb where nobody knows how long the god damn fuse is. My perfect little boy, and his life might end before it even begins. Is it because I was happy for once? Is that it? Did I anger the fucking gods or something? I just don’t…understand. Why did it have to be me?

I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I just don’t know anymore. And there’s nobody left who can help me.

Tape 3:

I’ve been thinking about Jack lately. I’ve come to terms with the whole heart thing - really, the not knowing is worse than the end. We all have to die some time, of course, it’s just nicer to have a reasonable expectation for when that’s going to be. But, I think I’ve solved that problem now. No more waiting, no more worrying, no more uncertainly for my beautiful little boy. Such a big boy for his age. He’s crossing my mind more and more, like an itch I just can’t seem to scratch, but I know how I can scratch it.

No more false expectations. I think I can solve this. It’s all gonna be back on track again.

Tape 4:

Tonight’s the night. —

By the time I’d popped out the fourth cassette, I was shaking, with tears in my eyes. So she’d had a son before she’d had me, little Jack, and she never once mentioned it. She never mentioned any of it. To hear her like that, so happy, so alive, it was to me as unnatural as watching rain fall up and time go backwards. The most prescient question before was who the hell Jack was, but now I knew, and a new question had risen to the forefront.

What the hell had she done to him?

I knew my mother was a master of non-contact torture, but part of me still couldn’t bring myself to believe that she was a murderer. Another thing I knew is that I couldn’t possibly just ask her about it, because if she had even an inch to wriggle out of it, who could blame her for taking it? All that was left was the little cloth bag, tied up with a single piece of string.

When I pulled away that string, I did so with the precision of a bomb disposal expert cutting a wire. The sides of the cloth fell outwards like a flower in bloom, revealing what had been sitting inside for all these years. It took me a moment to realise exactly what it was - the small, gnarled little thing - but the second I got it, I shrieked at the top of my lungs and scrambled backwards.

It was a tiny, mummified hand. The hand she never wanted to give up holding.

“What the hell are you screaming about?” My mother, the child-killer, called down from above, “you damn near gave me a heart attack.”

A heart attack would have been too good for her. I wanted to call the police, have them apprehend her, let her eke out the last few months of her miserable life rotting in a jail cell, or at least the secure wing of a hospital, her thin, veiny wrists handcuffed to the sides of the bed. But I was selfish - I knew that even if they arrested her, they’d never find out why she did what she did. She’d wrench that vicious little mouth of her’s shut, and never speak another word, just to spite them. There was nothing they could threaten her with, she was - for all intents and purposes - already dead.

No, if I wanted answers - and I did - I’d need to yank them out of the old bat’s mouth myself.

With a shaking hand, I grabbed a chef’s knife from the kitchen, and hid it behind my back. Mother was ranting as I mounted the stairs, asking why I was being so rude as to ignore her. She was, after all, just asking me simple questions. Was I too ignorant to even comprehend that?

She still looked the same. Logically, of course I knew that’d be the case. But, after knowing that somehow, for some reason, she’d killed a little boy, I felt like on some level I should have been able to read it on her. I wanted to believe that an act like that would have to change a person, make them less human - mentally and physically. But no, it was that same little broken doll, wrapped in blankets.

“And finally, Queen Tania arrives,” mother said, her voice laden with venom, “such an honour for you to finally grace me with your presence. Have you even cleaned out there–”

“I know, mother. I know what you did.” I said.

I hadn’t expected it to come out like that, but there it was, just hanging in the air between us.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, indignant.

“Jack, mother. I know about Jack.”

When I said that name, something changed. Something in those small, shiny eyes.

“I still don’t know what you’re…”

“Give it up, mom,” I cut her off, “I found the box. I saw the pictures, I heard the tapes. I saw the…I saw the hand, mother. I’ve seen everything now.”

Silence. Total and overwhelming, like being locked in a pressure chamber. Mother just stared at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place, partially hidden underneath her oxygen mask. I was on the verge of tears.

“Jack…” She said, sounding almost, almost mournful, “that was meant to be private, Tania. Nobody was ever meant to know, it was going to be our little secret - mine, and his. Though I suppose that doesn’t matter much anymore, does it?”

I walked to her bedside, knowing I was on the precipice of doing something I regretted. The chef’s knife felt heavy in my hand when I first picked it up, but the longer I looked at my mother, the lighter it seemed to feel.

“Tell me what happened, mother,” I said, trying to hold back the sob that I felt was priming itself at the base of my throat, “I want to know everything that happened to Jack.”

“Do you really, though?” She asked, “because once you know, you can’t go back. It’ll stay with you long after I’m worm-food, Tania.”

“Just. Fucking. Tell me.”

Mother sighed again and turned her head away from me on the pillow, just like she’d done when she called me ungrateful the day before. It was almost funny, knowing she couldn’t take my judgement now, after all this.

“I ate him, Tania.”

My left leg turned to putty below the knee and I almost fell backwards. Of all the thousand scenarios I’d run over in my head since seeing the hand, somehow this wasn’t one of them. Even in the end, my expectations of her were just too high. She was more loathsome than I’d ever been able to imagine.

“You what?” I asked, voice pregnant with burgeoning sobs.

“Not alive, girl, I’m not an animal,” she said; there was no pleasure or anger in her voice now, just that same indifference I was always used to, “it was humane. I drugged his food with sleeping pills one evening, and once he was out I bent him over the tub and slit his throat. He was dead in about two minutes, didn’t even feel anything. He went out a lot better than I’m going to. The rest, I butchered and cooked.”

I was going to say something, but instead, I just vomited into a waste paper basket near the portable medicine cabinet. I couldn’t help but picture that sweet-looking little boy from the photos, little Jack, my brother from long, long ago, lying grey and lifeless over the edge of a porcelain bathtub - his neck split upon by a wide, red smile. She was a killer, she was a cannibal. She was my mother.

“I don’t understand,” I said through tears, “I thought you loved him.”

“I do love him,” she said, “I never stopped loving him. Not even for a second, not even when I was watching him bleed down the drain. I always loved my little boy.”

The knife was itching to taste my mother’s blood, but I tried to maintain control. I knew what she’s done now - an image I’d never clear from my head until the day I die - but I still had to know why. I needed to know why.

“When you get a little older, Tania, you’ll realise that all of life runs in cycles,” she said, “and if anything seems like it doesn’t, well, that’s only because you’ve not looked at it for long enough. Everyone’s in the loop, and the loop has to close eventually.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My parents, Tania, I told you they abused me. They took away my power, made me feel like nothing - that’s why I escaped, and I swore nobody would ever take power away from me again,” she said, “I never wanted a husband, I wanted to stay independent. Jack came out of a one night stand, and I had him myself a few months later. I’ve never loved anything as much, before or since.”

I’d always known that my mother had never loved me, but somehow, that still hurt to hear.

“Those first six years before his diagnosis, Tania, that was the happiest I’d ever been. I felt like life had finally turned around - but when I realised that little Jack could die at any time, I woke up from the fantasy. I’d been lying to myself the whole damn time. You see, little missy…”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” I said, venting some of my confusion and fury.

“You see, Tania,” she corrected herself, each word oozing with spite, “there are two ways a person can take your power away from you. They can abuse you, and attack you, and physically dominate you - like my mother did to me. The other way is in making someone love you, like Jack did. And I did love him, I really did, but it made me weak. It took my power away, and that’s why he had to die.”

“Then why the fuck did you eat him?” I asked, thinking the rest of her insanity wasn’t even worth questioning.

“Because I loved him, Tania, I don’t expect you to understand, you’re a loveless little creature. Jack had to die so I could keep my promise to myself, but I ate him so he’d never have to leave me. We could be together forever - one body, one mind, one soul.”

By this point, I’d collapsed onto my knees and just started crying into my hands. Mother kept talking.

“I did you a great kindness, one that I suppose at least now you could fully appreciate,” she said, “I had you when I got lonely, but I knew that I was still the same person I was when I ate Jack. If I wanted you to be safe - and believe me, Tania, I did - I knew the only way to do that was to not love you. I’d keep my power, and you’d keep your life. Fair trade. Seems almost funny now, doesn’t it?”

“Funny?” I asked through gritted teeth, “what it seems is evil, mother, evil and fucking insane.”

She turned back to me, our eyes meeting again.

“Cycles, Tania. It was all pointless in the end - because here I am, weak, defenceless, and there you are, holding that knife, ready to kill me. Ball’s in your court, you’ve got all the power,” she said, her voice betraying a sick sense of gallows humour, “the loop closes. I became my mother, and you become me. It’ll keep going, until the end of time. Cycles, always cycles.”

It made me sick to my stomach, but she was right. It’d all panned out exactly like she said - but I would refuse her being right one last time. I didn’t have the strength to let go of the knife, but I poured everything I had into keeping the blade away from her. I wouldn’t close the loop, I refused to, I wouldn’t complete the cycle.

“No,” I said to her, “don’t you dare try to put this on anyone else but you. Your mother was a shit to you, and I’m sorry about that, but you’re twice the monster she was. You killed a little boy, your own little boy! You murdered him and then you ate him. You alone fucking did that, not anyone else.”

Even below the oxygen mask, I saw mother’s lips curl back over yellow, coffee-stained teeth. Not quite a smile, just the animalistic baring of fangs. For a split second, it felt like the facade matched the interior.

“Not quite,” she said, “I was bearing child at the time, Tania. You ate him too. You could even say Jack is gonna be with both of us for…”

Mother never got to finish that sentence. Before I’d even had the foresight to stop myself, I’d plunged the chef’s knife into the centre of her chest. Red bloomed from the wound, soaking into the sheets around her, as she coughed a little storm of blood into the oxygen mask. Mother’s shiny little pig eyes seemed to go flat and glassy, and she slumped back into her pillow, stone dead.

I let out a long, loud scream. I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to be able to stop.

***

But it did stop, in the end. I still believe mother was wrong: all things stop in the end. Life isn’t made of loops and cycles, it’s made of threads - it’s messy, it’s disorganised, it’s chaotic, but you always have choice. Mother, for a person so obsessed with gaining and keeping power at all costs, was so quick to assume that none of us have any. When I’d gotten my mind back, I called the local police precinct and turned myself in, told them every last detail and gave them all the evidence they needed to piece together what’d happened.

The trial was short, and the jury was sympathetic. It’s hard to not look at someone who murdered a child-eating killer as a dragon slayer rather than a cold-blooded murderer herself. The judge figured my time was better spent in a psychiatric ward than prison, where I could try to undo some of what my mother had done to me, and scrape every little piece of her black, cancerous memory from my brain. Once I’ve done that, I can go back to life again, and try to pick up where I left off.

I don’t think about her as often as I used to now, thankfully, though occasionally she’ll wander across my mind. The last thoughts I had of her was wondering what she must have been thinking when I stabbed her. In the narrative I imagine her head was putting together in her final few seconds, she probably pictured me running off into the night, screaming and covered in blood, wanting desperately to keep the power I’d gained, and destined to repeat all of her mistakes.

Mother was wrong about that too. I plan on making my own.

#horror #creepy #dark #tw abuse #unsettling #stories

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bluezey · 7 years

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Dissecting the old, beginning from the new

So something happened today. I was watching random internet videos when I came across someone who was rating the five worst animated films of 2016. Among them was Trolls. That I can see, though I haven’t seen the film the trailer does look super bright and sugary and playing on common clichés. Then the interviewer said that he was worried Trolls is part of a trend that began with The Lego Movie, that a film about an existing property did so well that everyone is gonna try to make a film on a property because they think that’s what sells.

That kind of makes sense, until something happened while I was watching Nostalgia Critic reviews while playing Fallout 4. NC is doing Sequel Month: The Sequel and I’ve noticed he has reviewed Alvin and the Chipmunks 2, Smurfs 2 and will be reviewing Garfield 2. Do you see a comparison between these three movies? They are all movies based on an existing property that were released BEFORE the success of The Lego Movie.

So it made me wonder, why is this person noticing this now if Hollywood has made films based on existing properties before? And the only thing I could think of was, because The Lego Movie did it right.

Think back on the existing property films of the last few decades. They all take a property, look into how it works, then for one reason or another they write a film based on film clichés and dated trends that were popular at the time. What you get is a jumbled mess that either flops or makes some kind of profit one way or another. But The Lego Movie was different. It took an existing property, looked into how it works, then wrote a story around it with memorable characters, funny jokes, and made their own jokes and clichés in the process. They made a success over effort.

Then I began thinking what film has made a success like The Lego Movie? What film was based off an existing property AND did well, just like The Lego Movie? I thought very hard, thinking back as far as I could, even back to toys from the 1970s and… I couldn’t think of anything. Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough, or maybe I wasn’t that into a specific toy line that had a movie that did do successfully well like The Lego Movie.

But then I realized that there are films that are not based on toys or cartoons, but are based on existing properties. In fact, almost every film they made is based on an existing property. Hell, even their first movie was based on an existing property. That company is Disney.

I mean, look into it. Their very first film was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, based on a fairy tale. In fact, most of their films are based on folk lore, stories fairy tales, with an occasional step into mythos, books and history puffed up by fiction. Sure, there is a rarity here and there like Lilo and Stitch or Home on the Range, but every other film was based on something that has existed. I mean, really think about it, before we had toys and cartoons, you could consider fairy tales and stories existing properties. It’s just that now in the day we think of toys, cartoons, comic books, video games and now apps and emojis as existing properties.

Now here’s where it gets interesting. Snow White was just a telling of Snow White, they didn’t do anything new to it. Same thing with the other earlier works like Dumbo, Cinderella and Pinocchio. It’s almost as if they didn’t try when it came to story. So how did they succeed when today’s movies that don’t try fail? Because, based on the time they came out, they did try. No one made a full length animated film before, so Snow White and the films that came after it were fascinating and amazing to the audience. They didn’t have to try a lot on story, because just seeing the story move on screen through ink and paint was more than enough effort.

However, even Disney can get caught on following trends. And I know what you’re thinking, timeless Disney films can be dated? Well, let me tell you about the Disney films of the 40s and 50s. First, there were two films about Donald Duck visiting South America and Mexico, how odd is that? Well, this was a product of the time. Due to some things I can’t delve into properly because I’m not a historian, Disney was set to make two films to teach American movie goers about South America and Mexico’s culture, basically sell the country and continent. So, due to the time period of the forties, they did something fascinating but dated. Then there’s two films called Make Mine Music and Melody Time. These two films were a collection of shorts told through story and music, from Peter and the Wolf, Pecos Bill, Hatfields and McCoys, Johnny Appleseed, just to name a few. But among them were also shorts told through jazz music, a popular musical style at the time, but is now considered dated today.

Now I know what you’re thinking, wasn’t there a movie before Make Mine Music and Melody Time that was also about music and wasn’t dated by popular music during the 40s and 50s? And yes, Fantasia, it was the third film Disney made. But despite being the third film they put a lot of effort and originality into it! Fantasia was not only ground breaking by being a movie about music, but it traveled trough road shows introducing something ground breaking that would basically become surround sound. Something that is above and beyond and definitely shows they did more than try, and even shows they can try something new and innovative! Fantasia flopped. I’m not kidding. What was considered a classic today did not make a profit in its first run.

So, long story short, even Disney themselves have had original ideas that flopped, and have followed popular dated trends that still pulled in a profit. Basically, they’re doing what any other film today could do.

So, what’s the correlation? What’s the formula that can make a movie on an existing property work?

Well, I don’t think there is a formula, and I think it stems on the fact that practically every idea has been done before.

I mean, Disney has made movies mostly on stories and fairy tales that existed before even movies existed. And, looking at Dreamworks, Prince of Egypt was based on an existing story from the Bible, and Shrek was not only based on the idea of mixing up fairy tales, but it was also based on an existing children’s book. I’ve seen videos comparing Toy Story to a Jim Henson’s Christmas special about toys coming to life, but isn’t that because toys coming to life have been done before? Hell, kids think about it! And come to think about it, let’s look at those conspiracy stories about films ripping off other films. We can exclude Antz and A Bug’s Life because we know the behind the scenes about that fiasco, so let’s look at some others. Like, Finding Nemo and Shark Tale. Despite different stories and different ideas, people think one is a copy of the othert because they’re about talking fish. But, talking animals have been done since way before Aesop’s fables. Some people think Monsters Inc ripped off a film called Little Monsters because they’re about monsters that live in closets. But, even kids have thought of that idea. Hell, I’ve even heard people say Despicable Me and Megamind are the same film because they involve super villains that become super heroes. First, Gru didn’t openly become a super hero until Despicable Me 2, in the first one it ended with him as a father and his alignment unknown. Second, I’m pretty sure comic books have had story arcs about heroes become villains and vice versa.

Basically, if you cut it down to its basic ideas, every idea has been done. We all think about what toys and pets do when we’re out of the room, that’s why Toy Story and Secret Life of Pets sound so similar. Talking animals have been done so many times, that’s why Flushed Away and Ratatouille sound similar to people just because they both have talking rats. Cars and Doc Hollywood sound so similar because we’ve all heard of the same stories of people getting lost and finding themselves in a small town.

So, what’s my point in my rambling that we’ve done everything? Well, think back to The Lego Movie. They could have done clichés and trends and be every other diluted film based on an existing property. But, they didn’t. They took an existing property and did something different with it. That’s what made it stand out, that’s what made it fascinating, and basically that’s what made it successful.

Another example is Inside Out. Now when we heard of the idea of personified emotions in a person’s mind, we thought at first it was an original idea. Then we looked back and realized it wasn’t. We’ve had Osmosis Jones, which is personified cells running a body like it’s a city. We’ve had shoulder angels and shoulder demons, little cartoon imps dressed like angels and demons that persuade us to do right or wrong. We’ve had Herman’s Head, a TV show about a group of personification of feelings running the mind of a person- holy crap I just repeated the idea of Inside Out by reading the premise of a dull 90s sitcom! It’s been done that much! So, what made Inside Out such a success? What did Inside Out have that these ideas didn’t? It did something new with the pre-existing idea. While the previous ideas were just personifications of emotions, Inside Out used the personification of emotions to explain how the mind works, how memories work, and even something as complex as how life changes can affect and change your personality to kids, as well as explain to kids and adults in a society that is afraid of anything other than bliss and happiness that it’s okay to feel sad. It’s similar to how The Lego Movie was a success. It made likeable, relateable characters, funny jokes, a unique story that looks original but has probably been done before, to only pull a fast one on us by showing us this whole story is about a father-son relationship becoming strained, a story that we know for a fact has been done before! But then it does something original by showing us that, even as adults, it’s okay to drop your guard and become a kid again, just by using another overused trope of saying how everyone is special.

I think the point I’m trying to sum up is we’re seeing trends we’re tired of seeing in movies because, even before movies were invented, everything has already been done. From storyline to the basic elements of a story, we’ve all heard it before. What makes a success these days with movies is to do something different with them. Use the same tropes to tell a different story, use unique advancements to tell the same tropes in a different way, or use the same ideas to explain something in a way that hasn’t been seen in that way before. It’s why Zootopia is the same old movie about talking animals, but it explains something as controversial and complex as racism and society. It’s why Frozen took the same princess story and explained the complexity of anxiety as well as making fun of old Disney tropes while making new Disney tropes. It’s why Sausage Party not only draws a crowd because we still haven’t done enough animated films about cartoons dropping four hundred sexual innuendos and f-bombs in under a running time yet, but it uses the cliché of non sentient things having sentience under our noses to explain the complexities of living with faith versus living for the day. Dammit, I can’t let that go, that’s too damn clever! So, to sum up, I don’t think there’s a trend of bad movies based on pre-existing properties. I think we’ve just become so self aware of everything already been done that we should keep dissecting and reassembling some things old until we come up with ideas that make them new again.

#animation #movies #essay #Trolls #Disney #Pixar #Inside Out #history #Hollywood #trends #cliches #Zootopia #Frozen #Sausage Party #The Lego Movie #existing properties #stories #fairy tales

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