#Also Hero - 'just fifty more minutes'

[salthusiast]

Violent Love Language

No Goggles Mark x GDA Agent Female Reader

Summary: After being sent on a quick mission by Cecil, you catch the attention of one of the variants.

Word Count: 6.4k

Invincible Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and blood. Also death (nobody important don’t worry).

“What is going on?!” You hear Cecil’s voice appear behind you. He must really like that teleporter. 

“It appears that multiple versions of Invincible have entered our dimension.” You say, clearing your stack of papers. You know Cecil is going to make you work for that paycheck today.

“No shit, many are we talking?” He asks.

“Sixteen, sir.” You reply, attempting to pull up any cameras you can access on your computer. You pull up the ones from the prison and see some weird Mohawk version of Invincible.

“Huh, well, that’s not what I expected.” You blink, taken aback briefly by the difference.

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like. We need to figure out how to stop them. Get every superhero on the planet out there.” Cecil commands.

You nod, getting ready to notify all the teams Cecil has at his disposal, which is a lot.

“Donald, come with me,” Cecil says, walking toward the door before pausing at the door and calling your name. 

You whip your head toward him, confused if you heard him correctly, “Yes, you come too.” He snaps.

You don’t want to piss him off more than he already is. You can’t imagine that dealing with a crisis like this is very fun. You’re stressed out with your current position, so you can’t imagine being the GDA director. 

“Everybody else, make sure that at least some heroes are trying to stop every single Invincible,” Cecil calls out before turning back toward the door, you and Donald following suit.

“I called you for a special mission. I tried to keep it on the down low as much as possible. However, with current circumstances, I need a favor.” The three of you continue to walk down the hallway. 

You start to feel a little anxious, “Whatever you need, sir. Will it be dangerous?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, “Usually no, but right now potentially.” He sighs. “I am trusting you with this job. It could potentially save millions of lives if you’re successful.”

Geez, no pressure. You feel yourself start to sweat, “If it saves lives, it is worth it. What is it you need me to do, sir?” You ask.

Cecil brings you to a new room, “You’re going to be looking for a black suitcase. In that suitcase, there will be about twenty small devices in there. They’re experimental, but hypothetically, they should be useful in dealing with Viltrumites. They’re portable versions of the chips that we implanted into Mark. They have a working radius of around fifty miles out.” 

You gape at him; you can't help but feel bad for Mark. You don’t know him personally, but he seems to be a good person. Cecil had made these intending to stop this dimension’s Mark, not other ones.

“Judge all you want about it, but it’s our best hope,” Cecil says, grabbing a watch-looking device. You recognize it immediately.

“Sir, where exactly is this located?” You ask, putting on the device.

Cecil looks at you solemnly, “Guardians HQ. If you’re lucky, you can find it and be in and out in five minutes. However, realistically, you’re going to have to pass all the security checks, which require everybody here to approve.” He sighs.

“I won’t lie, kid. There’s a large chance one of these Invincible variants will be there. If that’s the case, we’ll try and get you out of there. We’ll be monitoring from here.” Cecil gestures between himself and Donald.

You nod, “Yeah,” You take a deep breath, “Okay. Wait, so I get to use the teleporter?” You ask, feeling a little excited.

“Yes, you should just be going there and back,” Cecil explains, motioning for Donald to get everything ready.

“This isn’t coming out of my paycheck right…” You admire the watch. It looks simple, but you know this is very expensive. Cecil stares at you unamused. 

“Uh, okay, I’m ready. How does this— OH MY GOODNESS-” You feel yourself stumble as you land in Guardians HQ.

“Woah…” You look around, you haven’t been here before, not being a superhero. “Damn, really wish he gave me some idea of where it could be.” You mumble to yourself.

You look around the vast room, noticing a large desk. “Guess I’ll start here.” You rummage around briefly, not seeing anything catch your eye.

You spend the next ten minutes just trying to find the suitcase. Was Cecil trying to get you killed? He could’ve at least pointed you in the right direction.

Eventually, you find a door; there isn’t anything special about it. You go to see if you can open it. You try to twist the handle, failing miserably. “Oh, come on.” You groan.

You look at the screen on the door handle’s keypad, which requires higher security access. 

You turn around the room, “Uhh, if you guys can hear me, could you maybe unlock the door?” You point at it, feeling stupid.

Suddenly, a loud crash resonates in the room. You immediately try to find cover, but you’re standing out in the open. 

“Ah damn, I thought they’d be here.” You hear Invincible say, but you know it’s not the one you know. 

You slowly try and inch away out of sight. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he won’t see you?

“Cecil, I know you’re watching.” Not Mark announces in a sing-song tone. “Here! Let me get rid of all these cameras for you.” 

You watch as this Mark variant destroys every camera. Damn, you were relying on those. 

You try and see if there are any differences between this Mark and the one you know. He seems to have the older costume. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be any differences in it. 

You squint, trying to see. Oh, no goggles, that's a choice.

Just as you try and find a spot to cover, you hear him laugh loudly, “Oh, ho! Look who we have here!” He calls your name out. You stiffen. How does he know you?

“It really is you! Damn, I started to actually miss you. I killed you in my world, you were a reallll challenge.” He floats just above you. You feel a little pathetic crouched down beneath him.

“Is that so?” You counter, feigning confidence. Cecil, where are you? You take a quick glance at the watch, hoping it'll activate, but it doesn't.

“Oh yeah, for sure! I was so sad when I killed you. I got you to scream for hours. You lasted so long. It was soooo cool.” He gestures excitedly. You nod as if interested. Keep him busy, somebody’s gotta come eventually.

“How nice.” You reply sarcastically. Not Mark nods enthusiastically, not noticing the sarcasm.

I still remember what you sounded like. “God, I can’t believe I get a second opportunity to do it.” He lands right in front of you.

“Woah, uh, maybe take a step back.” You step back, creating distance. You feel unnerved by the wide grin on his face.

“Oooh, setting up the match, huh? We’re getting serious. Okay, okay, I’ll play along!” He gets into a fighting stance. You stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“For somebody who seemed to enjoy torturing me so much, I’m surprised I’m only the second version to have the honor to fight you.” You can feel yourself start to sweat. You are running out of ways to stall him.

“I know. I mean, I wanted to conquer other dimensions,” He waves a hand casually, “but this is fun too.”

You see a shift in the lighting above. You subtly glance up, finally somebody’s here. You can’t tell who it is, but you can see it’s not an Invincible. 

“Hmm.. yes, fun.” You reply uninterested. “You know what else is fun?” You ask, moving closer.

He starts to grin wider, getting into a more serious position, “What?”

You push him down the stairs, catching him off guard. You got lucky there. If he wanted to resist that, he definitely could’ve. You see the Guardians descend from the ceiling, restraining him.

You look towards the open door, which was locked earlier. You run towards it.

“Hey! AGH!” You hear him get hit. “DUDE IT WAS A ONE V ONE! RESPECT THE MATCH!” You hear him yell across the room. Ha.

You grab the suitcase waiting in the room, watching as the Guardians attempt to knock him unconscious. 

You frown, “You guys need him alive or something?” You ask, watching them beat down on Not Mark.

“Yeah, Cecil thinks he’s our best shot at getting answers.” You hear Darkwing reply. You nod, “Alright then. Not my business.” You start to walk away, “Wait, before I leave, can I do something?"

All the Guardians look at each other, “Sorry, it’ll just take a moment.” You set the suitcase down, taking a heel off your foot. 

You throw it as hard as you can at Not Mark, hitting him dead in the eye. “Hey! What’d you do that for?!” He frowns pettishly.

You grab the suitcase, picking it up again. You adjust yourself before looking him dead in the eye with a straight face, “Fun.” 

You turn around to walk away from the Guardians, feeling the odd sensation of being teleported once again.

All the Guardians watch, flabbergasted. “She’s got guts.” Darkwing breaks it, amused. Immortal nods, “Let’s just knock this guy out. There’s still more out there.” 

Not Mark remains on the floor, awestruck. How did this human come in here, trick him into an ambush, and then have the audacity to hit him? His eyes linger on where you teleported away. 

It was at this moment that he decided he would meet you again.

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

“That was a bold move, kid.” You hear Cecil’s voice. You look up, still nauseous from the teleportation, and his arms are crossed.

“He killed another version of me.” You justify, handing him the suitcase. “Even if I don’t have super strength to beat him up, I wanted to at least hit him for what he did. I would’ve slapped him, but I’m not stupid enough to go into neck snapping range.”

“Whatever," He sighs, "it’s done now. We’ll try and send these out with some teams. They should at least reduce the damage that could be done.” Cecil says, opening the suitcases. He grabs one of the devices.

“What about Mark, sir?” Donald asks, frowning. 

“If you can get in contact with him, tell him to get off the planet. Otherwise, it’s a small price to pay for the greater good. He’ll recover, humanity may not.” Cecil replies. Donald nods and goes back to typing.

Cecil turns toward you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Good work, kid. Sorry that you had to deal with that.”

You shrug, “It’s okay, he didn’t actually get the chance to do anything.” You reply. “What are you planning on doing with him? Are you sure you can restrain him?” You ask, frowning.

“We’re planning on implanting the same chip that Mark had into him. Don’t worry, we have a plan for what to do with him. We might be able to extract some answers out of him eventually.” Cecil sighs. “I don’t even know if we’ll be able to rehabilitate him.” He shakes his head. 

You know this is what Cecil does. While you may find some moral issues in using villains, you know this is how he works. There’s nothing you can do to change that.

You nod, “It’s worth a shot, sir.” You reply. “If we can have two Invincibles out there, that’d be a huge advantage.” 

“Yeah, that’s if he will change. These variants seem pretty set in their ways.” Cecil watches Donald work. “One step at a time. We need to get answers out of him first.” 

You nod, “Probably a good idea.” 

Cecil turns back to you before dismissing you back to your desk, “Thank you for your help.”

You nod, “Of course, sir. Call me anytime.”

—

“You sure he won’t wake up?” Darkwing asks, looking nervously at the body of the unconscious Invincible slung over Immortal’s back.

Duplikate walks up next to them, “I doubt it. If he does, Cecil told us he has a backup. We can also knock him out again.”

“We were lucky. If he wasn’t caught off guard, then we would not have knocked him out. He would’ve killed us all.” Darkwing responds solemnly.

Immortal slides the variant into the special cell that Cecil told them to put him in.

“Thank you, Guardians.” A scientist comes up to them, locking the special prison cell. “You needn’t worry about him escaping. You are free to go.” He smiles. 

The Guardians nod before rushing out of the Pentagon. Cecil walks into the room. “Is he up yet?” He asks.

The scientist shakes his head, “No, sir. We expect he’ll wake up in the next few minutes, though.” He taps his pen on the clipboard. 

“Good, all safety measures have been checked, yes?” Cecil asks. The scientist nods, “Yes, sir. He will not be escaping.” He responds. The two watch as the Invincible starts to stir.

“Agh, my head… Hey, where am I?” He looks around before making eye contact with Cecil. “You seriously think that I can’t escape this?” He sounds amused. He slowly stands up, walking up to the front of his cell. 

“Perhaps, but you will regret your attempts,” Cecil replies, his voice betraying nothing. 

The Invincible variant laughs, taking off his mask. “You had me knocked out, why not kill me?” He puts his finger through the mask and spins it.

“You aren’t in a position to be asking questions.” Cecil narrows his eyes.

The variant suddenly slams into the front of the cell where Cecil and the scientist stand. The scientist flinches back, but Cecil remains still.

“You truly think. I can’t kill you right now?” He laughs. “All it takes is— ARGH!!” He immediately falls down onto the ground, gripping his head. 

Cecil presses the button once again, cutting out the noise playing in the Invincible’s ear. “Like I said, you’re not in a position to be asking questions.” The variant looks up at him, the amused smile gone from his face.

"Now tell me why you’re here,” Cecil demands. 

The variant wipes the blood from his suit, “I’m not tellin’ you shit.” He smears the blood on his fingers to the ground. Suddenly, he says your name, the smile returning to his face.

“What?” Cecil asks, confused. “How do you know her?” He asks.

“Does it matter?” The variant rolls his eyes. “Where is she? I want to talk to her.”

“Sorry to say, we can’t do that.” Cecil didn’t sound very sorry.

The variant clicks his tongue, “Damn, guess you’re not getting a word out of me then.” He leans against the wall smugly.

“You can rot in this cell then,” Cecil replies.

The variant snaps and then does finger guns, “Oooh, so you see, that won’t work.” He laughs loudly. “I mean you’ll die eventually. I have centuries to escape, and trust me...” 

He leans towards the wall, placing his hands against it, “It will not take me a century to escape. You’re lucky if you last a week.” He pushes away from the wall, pacing in his room.

“Now, if you want answers. Bring her. It’s a win-win. I get the girl, you get your answers!” He grins widely, as if that’s a very fair deal.

Cecil sighs.

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

“Uh, what is it you need, sir?” You ask your boss over the phone. 

“It appears that the Invincible variant we captured refuses to answer any questions,” Cecil responds, annoyed, looking over toward the variant, who is grinning with two giant thumbs up.

“Okay..?” You respond, not liking where this is headed.

“I hate to involve you again, kid, but he will only answer questions if you are there,” Cecil replies exasperated.

You are frozen for a moment; this monster almost killed you. Why on Earth could he possibly want to talk to you?

“..Which cell is he in?” You eventually concede. You can hear Cecil sigh in relief. 

“Thank you, he’s in cell two hundred forty-three,” Cecil informs you. 

“I’ll be there in a minute.” You tell him before you hang up. 

You grab all your stuff and begin your long trek to the special prison Cecil has. It’s supposed to be able to withstand anything, but after seeing Omni-Man take a nuke, you aren’t certain.

You eventually get down to that level, and the security asks for your identification. You scan your card before walking in. You see Cecil and Donald standing at the end of the row.

You slowly approach, “There she is! I was wondering if you were gonna show!” You hear Not Mark (at this point, that’s his new name) call. 

“How long do I need to be here for?” You whisper to Cecil. 

“Long enough to figure out why they’re here and who sent them,” Cecil responds, matching your volume.

“You got your wish, now can you answer our questions?” Cecil asks, crossing his arms.

“Mmmm, I don’t know.” He looks at you and frowns. “I thought it was just gonna be me and her.” He looks disappointedly at Cecil.

You and Cecil share a look, you nod at each other, before he looks down shaking his head. “Everybody out! You get ten minutes with her, nothing more.” He states before the area clears out.

You shift uncomfortably, he is just watching you. He seems content just to stare at you. 

“What?” You ask, feeling scrutinized by his stare. He looks up at you, “You’re amazing.” He replies breathless.

You raise an eyebrow, “I’m amazing. After you told me that the other version of me you tortured was one of the best things you’ve done? Hate to break it to you, but I am just a normal person.” You cross your arms, looking at him. “I think you’ve noticed that already.”

He nods, “Of course I have. She was strong, sure, but you. You played me like a fool. When you hit me with that shoe at the end? Way to leave a guy with a cliffhanger.” He mockingly swoons.

You look at him unimpressed. “Very funny. Now we don’t have much time, so please just cooperate and answer these questions. It saves us both trouble.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Of course. What do you want to know?” He sits on the ground, criss cross, looking up at you like you hung the moon.

You ignore his gaze, “Why are you here?” You ask.

“Well… You see, I got into a fight with the Guardians. Oooh, I was so looking forward to actually fighting them. Instead, I met you.” He rests his elbows on his knees, holding his face with his hands.

“I was so enraptured by your presence that I got caught off guard.” He holds his hands out. “Now, I’m in prison.”

You look at him, glaring. “You know what I meant.”

He frowns, “Not big on jokes? We were chatting perfectly fine earlier.” He says to himself. You exhale annoyed.

“Sheesh, just playing! Okay, so this guy, right? He promised me the most fun dimensions for me to take over.” He shifts his weight onto his side. 

“What was his name?” You ask. 

“Angstrom Levy.” He says, and you freeze. “Oh, you’ve met?” He asks.

“Not personally, but I’ve heard stories.” You look down. “What exactly did he ask you all to do?” You ask.

“Eh, something about making everyone here fear Invincible. It seemed like he just wanted chaos, which I didn’t mind one bit.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“How long are you guys meant to do this for?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Until he says stop, I guess.” 

“And when would that be?” You walk up closer to his cell. He stands up, meeting your gaze. His eyes glance down at your lips.

“I…” He stares at your face, “have no idea.”

You frown, “Helpful.”

“I try to be.” He grins.

You shake your head, rubbing your temples. This is way above your paygrade. “So, let me get this straight: Angstrom Levy brought over a dozen different versions of yourself,” He nods, “and he just told you guys to ‘cause chaos.” 

“Sounds about right.” He starts spinning his mask with his fingers again.

“And in return, he’d give you dimensions to conquer?” You frown.

“Yeeep.” 

“So you have no idea why he wants you guys to cause chaos?” You lean up against the cell. He leans against his cell, too, mirroring your action.

“To be honest, I didn’t particularly care.” He taps his finger against the cell. “But, I do know the me of this dimension did something to piss him off.”

You think back to the whole incident with the Mauler Twins and the other incident where Mark almost killed him. “Oh.” You respond.

“‘Oh?’” He quotes. “You gonna share with the class?” 

“I thought I was the one asking questions.” You look at him.

“And I answered! Come on, throw me a bone here, will you?” He grins at you, looking far more innocent than you know him to be.

You look at him unimpressed. 

“Please?! Come on. There’s nothing fun around here. You’re my only source of entertainment right now.” He leans against the wall dramatically.

“Glad to know I’m contributing to your lack of entertainment.” You respond, detached.

“Aha! There she is! I was wondering if you left all your personality back where we met.” He snaps his fingers and does finger guns at you.

You look at him blankly. “Cecil will be back any moment now.” You begin to walk away.

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, and you pause.

“Will you come and visit me?” He asks, giving you false puppy dog eyes. You know if he wasn’t in that cell, he’d probably kill you.

You scoff but find yourself smiling, “Why, so I can be a source of entertainment for you?” You ask, walking back to his cell. He walks up to where you are, and you both stare each other down.

“Perhaps.” He grins.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look like you’re getting answers out of him.” Cecil walks in. You immediately distance yourself from the cell, breaking eye contact with Not Mark. He doesn’t move from where you two had your little staring competition.

“Forgive me, sir.” You look away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I did get answers, though.” You consciously ignore Not Mark, who is waving at you both to try and get your attention.

“We heard,” Cecil responds dryly, he does sound a bit amused though. He puts his hand on your shoulder, “Thanks for your assistance. Sorry we had to bring you out again for.. him.” You both turn to look at Not Mark, who grins innocently.

“Yeah, no problem.” You say, feeling as if it were very much a problem.

“Wait, Cecil, is she allowed to visit me?” Not Mark asks, butting into your conversation.

“That’s up to her.” Cecil says, at the same time you say, “It’s prohibited.”

You look at Cecil, distressed. “What? It pays to be in his good graces.” Cecil whispers to you.

“Yeah? What’s his good graces? Not breaking out and killing everyone?” You respond frustrated. Cecil raises an eyebrow before looking over at Not Mark. “Fair enough.” You sigh despondently.

“I can hear you two.” Not Mark comments helpfully.

You look at Cecil, and he nods. “You can head back now.”

You nod, “Thank you, sir.” You start to walk away, ignoring Not Mark’s cries of “Wait!” and “Don’t go!”

You walk past the security, giving a nod of acknowledgement. You walk into the elevator.

Once you arrive on the floor, you were supposed to be on (before all of that happened). You sit down at your desk, grabbing your stack of papers you threw aside earlier. 

“How are the Guardians doing, or all the teams for that matter?” You ask your coworker, Bryan, casually.

He groans. “We’ve already seen at least three be eliminated or seriously injured.”

“Teams? Like they killed off entire teams?” You ask, shocked.

He nods, “Yep. Down and out.” He types frantically on his keyboard.

“…Have we managed to kill any of the Invincibles at all?” You ask hesitantly, unsure if you want to know the answer. 

“At the moment? Four.” He responds.

“Oh, that’s more than I expected.” You look around the panicked room. Every person around you is frantically working. Crazy to think that not even 10 minutes ago you were talking to one of those Invincibles while everybody up here was stressing.

“Did you find out any valuable info from the one we captured?” Bryan asks.

“Not much. Levy sent him.” You start to log in to your computer.

“Levy? As in Angstrom Levy?” He asks, flabbergasted.

“Yep.” You pop your lips. “Turns out Mark didn’t kill him.” 

“From what I heard, there was no way anybody could survive that.” 

“Well, apparently he did. He wants revenge on Mark, I think.” You respond.

“Great, so he brought sixteen different Invincibles in order to kill our Invincible.” He sighs, pausing in his typing.

“Eh, basically. Apparently, they won’t stop causing damage until told to by Levy himself.” You tell him. “The captured one didn’t even know when that’d be.”

“Oh, so they could go on until they destroy the world?” Bryan laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah. I have no idea when—”

A loud crash resounds in the room. You and Bryan whip your heads around, looking at the giant hole in the ceiling. You look and see an Invincible floating over the rubble. 

You quickly glance at Bryan before you both scurry out of the room. You start to run out when…

“HOLY SHIT!” You hear him yell. You turn around to look at him, narrowly missing the body that was flung inches in front of your face.

You stare in horror, watching as employee after employee is murdered. You begin to run again. 

“Ugh damn it…” You frantically yank your heels off your feet. You run off to the exit. You, Bryan, and a few other coworkers manage to escape that room, but you can still hear the screams from where the crash was.

“Where is Cecil?!” Somebody asks. You shake your head. “Probably dealing with the other one we captured.” You groan. This Invincible is probably here to break that one out of prison.

“Let’s go, it’s safer in the halls than it is here.” You look at the remaining people, who nod. You start to run out again before the wall on your left explodes. 

“Other way, other way!” You yell, panicked. You push back against the remaining people. They start to head in the other direction. 

“Are all of you guys okay?” You ask. Out of the thirty of you in that room, seven (including you) made it.

“We should’ve just let him go.” You hear a coworker mumble, and everybody turns to look at them. “What? Am I wrong? This never would have happened if we didn’t keep that other one hostage.” You hear some murmurs of agreement.

“We don’t know that. The Pentagon might’ve been a target regardless of the Invincible we kept.” You frown, shaking your head. 

“Yeah? Well, we can’t be too sure, can we? How about we find out, huh?” The worker pushes past you all, heading back into the original room.

“What are they doing?” Bryan asks. You all watch as they run to their death.

Suddenly, static cuts in from the PA speakers: “Cell two hundred and forty-three is open.”

You all sit in silence for a bit before some people in your group begin to sob. 

The door the worker ran into earlier opens, and you all watch as a head rolls through the door. It is the head of that worker.

You all look up in horror. The Invincible variant crushes the head of the worker before looking up. 

You, being in the back, turn in the opposite direction. You think you’ll take your chances with random exploding walls over that. Bryan notices, and you motion him to be quiet, and duck so that the variant doesn’t see you two escape.

You both crouch, walking in the other direction. The group is still back there facing off against that Invincible. Do you feel bad for leaving them there? Yes, but you can’t dwell on it. It’s either all of you die, or some of you die. 

You don’t even hear the screams of them, just the wet slap of their bodies hitting the blood-soaked floor. You flinch, knowing that you two are now in plain view.

“Bryan, Bryan, we have to ru—” You turn to look at your friend, but pause in horror. The variant stabbed his hand right through him. You cup your hands up to your mouth, holding back a sob. You look at the variant before attempting to sprint away. You feel yourself get slammed into the wall, and you let out a soft “Oof!”

You look up in fear, the Invincible’s goggles block you from seeing his eyes. You can feel the tears roll down your face at this point. You don’t say anything, just stare at him silently as he raises his hand to strike you down.

Suddenly, you’re thrown to the ground, out of the Invincible’s grip. You look up.

“Dude, what are you doing here? God, you ruined my whole plan.” Not Mark pouts petulantly.

“I wasn’t aware you were here.” The other Mark replies.

“Well?” He does jazz hands. “I am! Now get out.” 

“Sure, whatever, just let me kill the human first. Angstrom said kill as many as possible.

Within an instant, Not Mark tackles the other one, sending a cloud of dust throughout the entire area. You cough, watching in both awe and horror. You attempt to stand up, but feel a sharp pain in your leg.

“Agh… shit.” You whimper, an action that seems to catch Not Mark’s attention. Within a millisecond, he’s in front of you, “Do you trust me?” He asks.

You blink at him, feeling the gust of wind from him speeding towards you. “Absolutely not!” You suck in air from the pain.

He grins, “Great.” He then grabs you bridal style before blasting into the air.

“OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You attempt to yell over the rushing wind. You feel yourself suffocating, unable to breathe with the high speed and rushing wind.

“Aw shit, forgot humans can’t breathe when I move this fast. You think you can last a little longer?” You hear him ask. You try and nod, but can barely move against the strong force. 

Eventually, you come to a stop, he places you down gently on the ground. “Do not move. Go inside that building, I’ll be back shortly.” He points to a relatively run down looking building.

“What?! Where did you drop me off-” You watch him speed off back into the sky. “Unbelievable!” You yell out to nobody. Who is going to believe this happened to you today? Nobody! 

“I’m not waiting here, asshole.” You grumble to yourself.

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

You sigh, waiting inside the building.

“How long is his definition of ‘shortly'? It’s been days.” You lean your elbows on your knees. 

Luckily, despite its run down appearance the place Not Mark dropped you off at has running water and food. 

It took you a while to actually try and consume any of it, but you decided that you didn’t want to die in the middle of nowhere. You’ll take your chances. Worst-case scenario, Cecil pays for your healthcare. He is the one who put you in this situation anyway.

Suddenly, the door gets thrown open. You jump back into the corner of the room you’re in. You hear Not Mark call your name.

“Hellooo? Anybody here?” You hear him approach you before looking directly at you. “There she is!” He walks up to you.

You grimace in disgust, looking at him. He’s covered from head to toe in blood. 

“What’s wrong?” He frowns. “Do I have something on my face?” He asks.

You look him up and down again, “Blood.” You respond disgustedly.

He blinks, confused, “You don’t like the blood? I thought you’d like it.” He looks at the ground as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “I’ll be right back.” He zooms out of the room, the door shutting itself behind him.

You look at the spot he was just at, unimpressed. Suddenly, the door opens again, and his suit is clean. You furrow your eyebrows, “How’d you clean it?” You ask.

“Flew to space and back. It comes off.” He mentions casually, as if that’s normal. “Anyway, ready to head home?” He grins, looking at you, holding his arms out ready to carry you. 

You look at him, suspicious.

He rolls his eyes, “Oh come onnnn. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done that way earlier.” He raises a hand and waves it back. At your horrified expression, he elaborates, “I mean like… You know what I mean. I don’t want you dead. I kinda went out of my way to make sure you didn’t die.” 

You nod, “Oh, yeah, okay… So I should just let you whisk me to who knows where.” You feign calmness.

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugs before grinning widely. “OOH, unless you want to give me your address.”

You stare at him, trying to discern whether he is serious. He stares back, smiling, looking like a dog begging for a treat. 

“No!”

“Worth a shot.” He sighs dejectedly. 

He carries you back, flying a lot slower this time, but still fast enough where you can’t bring yourself to talk in fear of choking on air or on a bug.

You feel him gaze at you a couple of times and pointedly ignore his stare. Suddenly, he pauses, slowing to a stop mid-air. “What’s wrong?” You ask, panic growing. 

You see him groan before throwing out some earpiece in his ear. “Oh, they didn’t take that out when you entered the Pentagon?”

“I don't know, I should be asking you that.” He leans down to your ear. “Hold on tight.” He whispers.

“What? OH MY—” You see him attack something. It explodes in the air. You both watch the debris fall onto the earth.

“What was that?” You ask, unsure if you want to know the answer. 

“Angstrom.” He says, pulling you closer before flying back where he was originally headed. 

You go the rest of the flight in silence. It wasn’t like you could talk if you wanted to. The wind made it difficult.

“Andddd we’re here. Wow, we really did a number on this place.” You look down, seeing half the Pentagon decimated. 

Out of nowhere, ReAnimen jump up into the sky. Not Mark drops you out of surprise. You feel yourself fall, closing your eyes and bracing for the impact. God, was this finally it? After everything you survived today?

A pair of arms catch you, and you open your eyes to see the singular red light of a ReAniman. You try to lean back away from the undead creature. You know they work for Cecil, but it doesn’t mean that you have to like them.

“Oh, good you’re alive. How’d you live?” Cecil asks. You feel yourself questioning for a moment if he is actually happy to see you alive. You turn toward Not Mark. He is fighting the ReAnimen. 

“Woahh, I never fought these guys in my world. They’re kinda fun.” He slams five of them using the body of one he already killed. “I killed you before you got the chance to create them, but man, Cecil. Good stuff.” He hovers over them.

“He saved me.” You tell Cecil, not exactly sounding enthusiastic.

He raises an eyebrow, “From the other one that came?” He asks, you nod.

“Hm…” He pauses, looking at the ground before pointing at you suddenly.

“What?” You whisper.

All the ReAnimen slowly turn their heads toward you. “Wait, Cecil, what are you doing?” You ask, panic growing. He looks at you coldly. “Cecil…” You try again.

Not Mark, noticing the lack of new opponents looks down. He spots you getting circled before he immediately dives in and lands right behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” He asks coldly. The grin on his face from the fight earlier is nowhere to be seen.

Cecil suddenly holds his hand up, and all the ReAnimen halt. “I see.” He says to himself. He says your name, “I apologize for my actions just now. I just had to…” He looks at Not Mark, “test something.” 

You look at Not Mark and then Cecil. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking what I’m thinking.” You look at Cecil in disbelief.

“What is it?” Not Mark asks right behind you. You step forward to create some distance between you two, and he steps forward to compensate.

“Say, how about you work for the GDA, Mark?” 

You and Not Mark both gape at Cecil before both of you simultaneously cry out:

“Are you SERIOUS?!”

“Oooh.” Not Mark laughs loudly. “Yeah, absolutely not. Why would I ever work for you?”

Cecil looks at you, his eyes seem sympathetic, yet unapologetic. “You can work with her.” 

So now here you are. Watching an evil version of Invincible shake hands with Cecil Stedman. The deciding factor? Getting to work with you. Truly, you’d feel flattered if it were anybody else.

“Soooo we’ll be in contact?” Not Mark grins at you, leaning into your personal space. You step away from him, but he follows.

“Kill yourself.” You deadpan. 

He smiles wider, and you know he heard it. “Now, is that how you talk to the person who saved your life? Oh, and your new coworker.” He removes his mask.

You feel your eye twitch. Is this seriously your life now?

“Why the long face?” He mocks your traumatized expression before breaking character and laughing loudly. “Come on, let’s get to work!” He floats up, flying in circles around you in the air like a hyperactive dog. 

“This is my life now.” You tell yourself, Not Mark nods because of course he heard you.

“Our life now.” He grins at you. 

You groan.

Quick A/N: Yes, yes, I'll get back to writing for Viltrumite Mark. Unless you guys want more of this. Either way Viltrumite Mark pt 3 is up next :D

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason (answering his phone): Hey.

Cass (extra sweet): Hi, baby brother!

Jason groaned.

Jason: Cass, you're only six months older than me.

Cass: Yeah so that makes you my baby brother! Enough about our sibling dynamic, I’ve been kidnapped.

Jason rolled out of bed, literally landing on the ground with a thud.

Jason: How do cats land on their feet with ease? Also, kidnapped?!

Cass: Mm-hm. Two big guys pointed their guns at me and led me to a van. I'm at their hideout with a lanky guy wearing a blue mask.

Blue mask: Not the most insulting thing I've been called.

Cass: They let me have one phone call to tell my loved one they demand fifty thousand dollars for my release.

Jason (rolling onto his back, exhausted): Cass, one question.

Cass: Yes?

Jason: WHY DID YOU JUST LET THEM KIDNAP YOU?!

Cass (lying): I don’t fight, remember? I’m a ballet dancer!

Jason let out an exhausted sigh, tapping his fingers on the floor. Bruce had told them not to fight as heroes to ensure no one figured out their identities. Except here was Cass, wearing a full-body black bat suit that concealed her face.

Jason: Just kick them in the balls and run!

Cass: I needed a day off from ballet dancing. They aren't harming me; they’re actually rather nice for criminals.

Kidnapper in pink face mask: Thanks! We just need the money.

Jason: That makes sense. Second question, why did you call me and not the big pubba?

Cass (laughing): He's in a business meeting. Plus we haven’t spent time together in the last six weeks. I thought we could go see Wicked after you bring the "briefcase."

Briefcase - Gun, 'cause he's going to save her as Red Hood.

Jason (standing to his feet and heading to his closet to change into his hero suit): I do want to rewatch Wicked and at least this isn't Tim. The briefcase will be there in thirty minutes; I just need more details.

Jason tapped a tracker button on his phone to trace where the phone Cass was using was. Cass picked up the paper with the crudely written ransom note, squinting her eyes.

Cass: I’m sorry, blue mask—it says Dove or Oove?

Blue mask: Damn it, pinkie, I told you to let me write the ransom note! It’s Dove, sweetheart.

Jason (grossed out, in his head): Eww, I’m hitting him with my pistol just for calling her that.

After gathering the information he needed from the ransom note and the tracker, Jason turned to his bed. He was about to move his pet cat to a different room before taking his spot in bed when he saw the calico cat had claimed his spot and was loafing contentedly.

Jason (sarcastically): Awesome, you’ll protect my spot while I’m out. Thanks, Austen.

Austen meowed in response, continuing to loaf.

[a11eya]

TITLE: lights will guide you home

CHAPTER: 8

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.

At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.

You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.

(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

TAGS: soulmate au, trope inversion/subversion, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, fluff, aged up characters, pro-hero characters, eventual smut, mild bullying

NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist

Ikeda tells you that two of the pictures—only two!—you took of Bakugou are viable and that one of the videos is passable. It’s a little harsh, in your opinion, especially considering who your subject was. 

She also asks you for the name of the organization you used to foster the kittens. You tell her the organization name, and, a little sheepishly, that the adoption and foster program’s called Save the Meow Meows. It makes her laugh. 

“Next time, try to get Dynamight to smile, okay?” she says after her laughter dissolves into a grin, audible even over the phone. “He looks like he’s being held hostage in 90% of these.”

“I know. I tried, but you know how he is.” It takes a half-second for the entirety of her words to process. You blink. “Wait, next time?”

“Well, yeah!” she says, sounding amused. “This first post we just put up on Dynamight’s socials is already doing well, and your pictures with him at the pet store are in the rearview mirror. Who knew that people would like them so much? No accounting for taste, I suppose.” 

Well. You knew, the moment you saw Bakugou pick up Mikan. There’s one photo in particular that didn't make it to Dynamight’s social media because Mikan’s mid-motion in it, but something about Bakugou’s expression… You’ll never tell him, but the two of them together make such a pretty picture that you favorited it on your phone. 

You try to pay attention as Ikeda continues, “A couple more posts should suffice, so we need more photos with him in different clothes, maybe in a different spot in your apartment, individual shots with each kitten… and definitely better expressions. Only makes sense, right?”

“Right…”

“You can go ahead and let him know about the additional shoots; you did a great job of coordinating things between you. And good job wrangling him so far! Keep up the good work! ”

“Thanks,” you say, after a pause, to the dial tone. You wonder if Bakugou knows how much Ikeda dislikes him. 

Grimacing, you type out a message and send Bakugou the bad news. 

You: Hey. Just finished talking to Ikeda. She says we need to take more pictures 🙏

Not a minute passes before your phone begins vibrating in your hand. You eye it like it’s a snake and answer hesitantly. 

“…Hello?”

“What’dya mean, more pictures?” Bakugou snaps. 

“Literally, there are no other meanings for that statement.”

“Call her back and tell her to fuck off.”

“Bakugou,” you sigh in exasperation. “I’m not gonna tell her to fuck off. Also, she’s your PR person. If you have complaints, shouldn’t you tell her directly?”

“The fifty pictures you took weren’t enough?” he demands.

“She says we need to take pictures of you wearing different clothes, in different spots in my apartment, so it’s clear they happened on different days. She also says you need solos with each of the kittens. And that you need to smile.” 

Quietly, you mutter away from the receiver, “Like I told you to.”

Bakugou must have the ears of a bat because his tone lowers, dangerous. “What’d you say, brat? Come and say that to my face.”

“Make me,” you say immediately, then close your eyes, feeling embarrassed. He really does bring out an unfortunately childish side of you. 

The line goes silent.

You wait, wondering if you pissed him off. 

“Text me when you’re free this week,” he says abruptly. “I’ll come by for the damn pictures.”

He hangs up before you can reply. 

Bakugou: I’m outside. 

Standing from your couch, you walk over to your front door and pull it open.

“Hey,” you tell him, but you stop in confusion when you notice he has a duffle bag in one hand and a reusable bag, the kind you’d put groceries in, in the other. His expression is pinched when your eyes meet.

“Here,” Bakugou says, and shoves the reusable bag at you. You automatically grab at the handles and make a sound when he lets go; it’s heavy. 

“Gotta reschedule the dumb photos. I was called in for work,” he says. 

Bakugou steps back, clearly moving to leave, and you grab his wrist.  

“Hold on,” you say. You let your hand fall from him and raise the reusable bag. “What is this?”

“Nutrients instead of the garbage you usually have. Be grateful,” he tells you, baring his teeth in a mean smile. You make a face at him, instinctively, and the mean fades from his smile, shifting to an amused twist of his lips. He looks at you as if he’s going to say something more. He doesn’t. 

Bakugou turns and makes his way down the hallway. 

You stare at his back, then duck your head to look at the contents of the bag. 

There are several bentos in there, stacked neatly, easily a week’s worth of lunches. The ones at the top have sticky notes on them, labeled with a number and what looks like a list of ingredients. 

When it finally clicks what you’re holding, your eyes widen. 

You shove your feet into some slides, grabbing another shoe to hold your door open, and chase Bakugou down the hallway, lugging the bag with you.

“Bakugou, wait,” you call, catching up to him where he’s waiting at the elevator, duffle bag on the ground. 

He turns to look at you, eyes narrowed. You come to an abrupt halt in front of him and try to give him the bag back. 

Bakugou crosses his arms, a refusal. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I can’t accept this,” you say. “It’s so much food! And was probably a lot of work to make!”

“S’why you should shut up and keep it,” he growls. “Go back.”

You scrabble about for a more convincing argument. “You should keep it. You’re going to work, right? You need lunch!”

“Already got lunch. This shit’s just because I made extra meal prepping this week,” Bakugou says.

Your mouth opens, and you furrow your brow, looking down at the bag. Uncertain, now.

“If you don’t want it, toss it,” he tells you, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t do that,” you gasp, just as the elevator arrives and opens. 

One of your neighbors, coming back from walking her dog, blinks at the both of you from inside the elevator. 

You quickly step closer to where Bakugou’s standing so she can pass. Bakugou picks up his duffle bag so it isn’t in the way, and you exchange greeting smiles with your neighbor as she slips by. Her big dog stops to sniff at the bag you’re holding, no doubt detecting the food, but your neighbor tugs at the leash and away.

Feeling self-conscious now that you have an audience, even if she is getting further down the hall, you turn back to Bakugou. He’s looking at you already, an exasperated expression on his face.

“Stop being stubborn,” he says, mouth a downward slash. “Gotta go. Eat that shit or don’t. I don’t care.”

He steps into the elevator and jabs the button for the ground floor. He’s gone before you can come up with a response.

You stack the bentos in your fridge, taking care not to jostle them more than you had during your jog down the hallway. As you place the last one inside, you trace the edge of its lid thoughtfully.  

You weren’t sure, at first, why these bentos bothered you, why your first reaction was to try to give them back. But the longer you sit on it, the more clarity you have. 

You feel a little guilty, that Bakugou keeps doing things for you, giving you things. The feeling has been building, especially over the past couple weeks since you’ve been messaging him, talking to him. You talk to him nearly every day. You’ve learned he prefers phone calls to texts—not surprising, considering how brief his messages usually are. He’s become part of your routine, and you find yourself feeling like something’s missing when a day passes without a snarky message from him or a phone call where you update him on the kittens, despite his claims of disinterest. 

You don’t want him to think that you only want him around because he gives you things and does stuff for you. You hope nothing about you gives that impression. 

You’re not sure how to tell him this. It makes your stomach swoop, just thinking about bringing it up. Because you know you’ll have to tell him what you just realized: that you like him for who he is. That you like him in your life. That he doesn’t have to earn your time or attention or—or forgiveness with things or by doing things. 

At work the next day, you sit and eat in the break room for the first time in several weeks, nearly crying over your first bite of a bento. It’s so good.

You figured out the numbers on the sticky notes indicate the order in which you should eat the bentos. Even though the ingredients are listed on the notes, you’d been tempted to crack open each bento to see what you’ll be eating later in the week. But so far, you’ve been able to control yourself. It’s kind of nice. Like a little surprise to look forward to each day. 

You finger today’s sticky note, taking in the words crossing it. For some reason, you’d assumed Bakugou would have messy, wild handwriting. But the kanji are precise, neat. You wonder what he’s doing right now.

The break room door opens, and you look up to see a colleague from a different department.

“Hey!” he greets you, crossing the room to fill his water bottle at the fill station. He turns to face you as he waits, and you panic internally, struggling to remember his name. Sato? Suzuki? 

“Surprised to see you in here,” he remarks. “Usually you eat in your office.”

“Yeah!” you say. You had no idea he took so much notice of where you ate. When were you first introduced? A couple months back? You feel worse about not remembering his name. 

You give him a smile, hoping the guilt isn’t on your face. “Just felt like a change of pace today.”

“That bento looks good! Do you like to cook?” he asks.

“Oh! No, a friend made it for me.” Your smile shifts into something more genuine. “He said I’ve been eating garbage, so. His attempt at trying to make sure I don’t die prematurely, I guess.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Sato or Suzuki or something else entirely says, tone shifting, and he picks up his now-full water bottle and twists the cap back on. 

“Well, enjoy your lunch!” he says, waving goodbye as he leaves the break room. 

You stare at the closing door for a brief moment before shaking your head. You need to find out that guy’s name before you see him again. He totally clocked you for not recognizing him, because what was that weird look on his face as he left? You decide to ask your team—discreetly!—what his name is after your lunch break.

When you’re finished eating, you snap a picture of the empty bento and send it to Bakugou.

You: Thank you for the food! 🙏

You: You know, if you ever change your mind about the hero thing, I think you’d get a job as a chef, easy

After a moment, you decide to send another message. You want to bring up the thoughts you’d had the other day, about how you don’t want him to feel compelled to keep doing things for you, but you feel like it’s a conversation better had in-person. Or on the phone, at least. 

It takes you several minutes of deleting and drafting before you settle on something inadequate. 

You: Sorry I was so weird about it yesterday 

Standing abruptly, too chicken to wait to see if he replies, you clean up your area and get back to work. 

It’s at the end of the work day, on the train, when you check your messages again. A text from Bakugou is waiting for you in your inbox, and you’re definitely not nervous when you tap on it to read it.

Bakugou: Better be sorry. Next time, don’t be a brat about it

You exhale, huffing a laugh, relieved. You type out a response.

You: Yes, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight sir 

He doesn’t reply. One thing about Bakugou is that he leaves his read receipts on—intentionally, you suspect, because it’s just like him to make sure you know he’s ignoring you, even through texts. It makes you grin.

The week passes, and you find yourself staring at a pile of empty bento boxes, hands on your hips.

You: Hey, when can I return the bento boxes? Washed them and everything!!

Bakugou: I’d fuckin’ hope so 

You: 😒

You: Should I drop them off at your agency? 

Bakugou: No, bring ‘em to my place

He sends you an address.

A part of you is a little relieved he’d suggested you not bring them to his agency. Thinking about it, going there to drop off a bag of empty bento boxes feels a little too… revealing. That people might see that you have the kind of relationship where he makes you lunch. You don’t want to cause trouble, especially since the pet store fiasco is just starting to fade from people’s memories. 

You: 👍

“Hi.” You feel a little out of place, standing in the hallway outside Bakugou’s apartment. You hold up the bag of bento boxes. “I brought the goods.”

Mentally, you’re kicking yourself. You’re always saying such dumb shit in front of him. 

Bakugou’s gives you a deadpan look, an I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that look. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” he says, and moves back to give you some room.

You step past the threshold, and he closes the door behind you. He grabs the bag from you and heads deeper into his apartment. Hurriedly, you toe off your shoes and follow him.

He’s gone into his kitchen, you realize, and he has a cabinet open, where he’s placing the bento boxes inside, one by one. He meets your gaze as he’s putting one away, and while maintaining eye contact with you, he opens one of them and makes a show of inspecting it for cleanliness.

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

Bakugou barks out a laugh and you smile, despite yourself.

As he continues to put away the boxes, you take a moment to glance around his kitchen while he’s busy.

It’s big. It has some fancy-looking appliances you wouldn’t typically find in a home kitchen. The stove looks top-of-the-line, and you see an impressive-looking knife set displayed on the counter. There’s even a stand mixer in one corner. You wonder if Bakugou bakes. 

“Y’want water, tea?” he asks, closing the cabinet and turning to you.

“Oh, water’s fine, thanks,” you say. You’re chagrined; even Bakugou’s a better host than you are.

You lean your side against one of the counters, watching as he grabs a pair of glasses and fills them up. 

He’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, in a faded shirt and worn pants that he easily could’ve slept in. His hair is nearly flat, falling in relaxed strands, softening him. All his edges are blunted, here, in his apartment.

You murmur a thank you as he gives you your water, and you subtly study his face as he drains his glass. He leans a hip against the counter. 

He looks a little tired, slight bags under his eyes. The way he’s holding himself is relaxed, but his shoulders slant, droop in a way you haven’t seen before. When he leans over to place his cup in the sink, his shirt lifts a little, exposing a glimpse of skin and the lip of his boxers rising above the waistband of his pants. His lights are gentle swirls around him, bathing him in a soft glow. 

He’s handsome, it dawns on you. The thought flusters you, and heat begins to rise to your cheeks. 

What the hell? You’ve seen him in casual clothes; you’ve seen him in his hero suit. Objectively, people are more attractive when put together, right? Presentable. There’s nothing about him, now, that you should find attractive. He’s just some guy, standing in his kitchen.

But Bakugou in his off mode, at home, does something to you. It’s like wires rearrange in your head, and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Hey,” you say—anything to leave this train of thought behind, because nope. “Thanks again for the food. This week was the best I’ve eaten, like ever.”

“You’re damn right it was,” he says, and you roll your eyes, smiling. 

“Alright, alright, Mr. Ego. I did want to talk about something else, too, while I’m here. If you have a minute.” By the time you’re finished talking, a serious note you’re unable to help has crept into your voice. 

An expression you’re unable to decipher flickers across his face. Bakugou crosses his arms. “Spit it out.”

You put your glass down on the counter, fiddling with it. Stalling, you realize. 

“I want you to know… you don’t have to do all this for me, okay?” you say, glancing up at him. 

His eyes narrow. 

You continue, hurriedly, to clarify. “I mean, like buying me the couch protectors, or making me lunches. I appreciate it all, I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Bakugou says, a little growl on the end of his sentence. 

“I just don’t want you thinking you need to do these things for me,” you say, voice faltering, quieting. “Even if you don’t cook me another meal, or buy me a single thing, ever, that’s fine with me.” 

Please understand, you will to him, watching him. Your thoughts feel clumsy, your words clumsier, like it’s a monumental effort just to string two sentences together. You can’t find the words to tell him what you mean: that you think he’s funny when he quips at you and that you know he’s observant, thoughtful. That you like talking to him, spending time with him. It’s enough.

Maybe you have found the words, but you can’t say them aloud just yet. Not yet.

“I know I don’t need to do shit. I only do shit I wanna do,” Bakugou says gruffly.

You open your mouth to argue, to try again to make sure he understands you, but he interrupts, puts a hand on your head. He’s a little rough, but his hand is warm. Reassuring. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You could fall into them, like this. 

“You think too much,” he tells you, but peering into his face—you think he’s heard you, loud and clear. 

You do think too much, you acknowledge on the train ride home. 

You’d left his apartment soon after your conversation; he’d needed to get ready for work. But your thoughts still buzz with him. 

You think about how the shape of your life has changed with him in it, within just a couple weeks. You think about the fact that he’s your soulmate but you’re not his, how this is something that can’t be changed, no matter how well you get to know Bakugou and how well he gets to know you. It’s been a long time since this—that you can see his lights but he can’t see yours—bothered you. You thought you’d accepted it, moved on from it. 

It really, really bothers you.

[corduroykoala]

I've been rewatching Frieren and was struck by just how effectively it uses montage to tell its story.

The passage of time is a huge part of the story, so montage is an obvious tool to employ, but Frieren uses it for more than just skipping to more interesting parts. Yes, that is often the goal, but it is also done in a way to demonstrate that time is passing. The montage in the first episode stands out—seeing a young shopkeeper appear much older just a few scenes later—as does the one used while the party waits in the Cabin with Kraft—Fern and Kraft are initially the only ones who pray at meals, but then Stark joins and, eventually, Frieren does as well.

My favorite montage, however, manages to convey not just the passage of time, but Frieren's perception of it. Relevant clip and discussion of it below the cut.

Throughout the series, we're also frequently told how much time has passed since Himmel's death, which serves to accentuate the passage of time as the characters—particularly Fern and Stark—get older. Fern is twice as old at the end of the season as she is at the beginning. The viewer can understand and relate to her experience of time.

In contrast, Frieren explains in the first episode that the ten-year journey with the Hero's party was short to her as an elf, not even one-one-hundredth of her life. On her journeys, we're constantly reminded of how short months and years seem to her, though it's generally played off in a light-hearted manner, juxtaposed against Fern's desire to continue their journey and not linger in one place for very long. To the viewer, this may make sense logically, but it is difficult to fully comprehend as a human. It's a lot like trying to understand the difference between one thousand and one million.

Episode 10 plays out largely in flashback, detailing Frieren's relationship with her master. After a fifty-year jump in time, Frieren is told to live in obscurity until the time comes when she can kill the demon king. Cue montage.

We see Frieren do as she was told, living a (mostly) quiet life as time passes. We see a small community grow into a village, a town, a walled city. We see a thousand years pass in about a minute of screentime. End montage.

We then see Himmel and his party approach Frieren to recruit her. It's a fairly standard Himmel flashback, demonstrating his uncanny insight and calling back to Frieren's meeting with Flamme. Then, the music falls out and—

Before you can even say the word montage, it's over. Five frames in rapid succession. The entire journey—ten years—in a single heartbeat. Painfully short, barely enough time to even understand what you just saw. One second in a video 100 seconds long.

This quick sequence captures just what that journey was like for Frieren. Of course she didn't get to know Himmel better. How could she have been expected to? It was barely any time at all, just one one-hundredth of her life.

This is my favorite montage in Frieren. It made my breath catch in my lungs the first time I watched it, and it did the exact same on rewatch. I love this show and I am incredibly happy it was renewed for a second season.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

Modern retelling of Much Ado, if you're interested and still playing the WIP sentences game? :D

still interested, still playing!

continued from this, which is set after this.

Margaret was finishing her sandwich and doing some light reading when Balthazar, Ursula, Hero, and Claudia burst in. She marked her page with her thumb, still chuckling.

“I don’t think we can wait longer to unveil the plan,” Ursula was saying. “Claudia, text Lee and Pedro, tell them it’s Go Time, we need to—” She broke off, glancing down at Margaret’s book and then back at Margaret’s face. “Were you laughing at Nietzsche?”

“Only the funny parts,” Margaret explained. She straightened. “What’s up?”

“What’s Go Time?” said Hero.

Ursula tapped the side of her nose. “We’re waiting for our co-conspirators.”

Lee slipped into the room a minute later, looking harried. Pedro followed on her heels, exuding a much more put together vibe, which was saying something because he had apparently come straight from the shower and was wearing only a towel.

“Friends, students, co-opers,” Ursula began, “lend me your ears. I need you all to come together to help me save my butt, and help Beatrice and Benedick realize they’re just nuts for each other. Which they obviously are, so this plan is clearly a net good, and we don’t need to examine it further than that.”

“Aren’t they, like, locked in enmity?” Balthazar ventured. “Also, how is your butt on the line?”

Ursula threw an obvious glance at Lee, who frowned. “As your house president, I’d say don’t anwer that,” Lee told her.

Balthazar glanced between them. “Is this one of those things I’d understand if I paid more attention?”

“Oh,” said Hero. “I don’t think so. I pay attention all the time, and I’m lost. Benedick and Beatrice?”

“Think about it, though,” said Ursula. She wiggled her eyebrows.

Hero shook her head. “Gross, she’s my cousin.”

“I meant romantically, not sexually.” Ursula wiggled her eyebrows again. “See? Romantic.” Wiggle. “Sexual.” Another, identical wiggle. “There’s nuances.”

“No, there’s not,” said Pedro. “They’re the same. Wait!” He leaned in to study her face. “Do it again?”

“Wouldn’t they be cute together, though, babe?” said Claudia to Hero. “It would be like one of those unlikely animal friendships at the zoo.” 

Margaret waited for Hero’s reaction, impressed with Claudia’s line of reasoning. Hero gave off powerful waves of someone who googled “unlikely animal friendships” every morning before breakfast and again before bed.

Sure enough, Hero clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh! Like a hippo and a tortoise,” she cooed.

Nobody else in the room reacted to this, or the obvious and confusing mental images.

“Who is who,” Margaret demanded.

“Can I point out the obvious?” said Hero. Margaret patiently waited for Hero to say, like, ‘my cousin is obviously the tortoise of the pair’ or ‘Are you kidding? Beatrice is such a hippopotamus, toe to tip.’ “They’re adults,” Hero continued. “Technically. They’re not—Barbie dolls for us to toy with.”

Margaret groaned. Trust the psych major to turn a promising performance art piece about the nature of love and facades into a bunch of handwringing about ethics.

“We’re not saying full-scale mind games,” said Pedro. “Just a little nudge. Don’t you think, under all that bluster, Beatrice and Benedick might actually—”

“Huh,” said Hero thoughtfully. “...huh.”

“Huh?” said Balthazar, at last looking up from his phone.

“Are you paying attention?” asked Lee. She sounded like she’d aged about fifty years since the start of the conversation.

“No,” said Balthazar. He held up his screen, where he had Spotify open to a new playlist he was making: CO-CONSPIRATORS.

[legobiwan]

34. “ Are you testing me? “

With Dimentio and Mr.L

Not 100% happy with this one, but I'm trying to bang these out!

Also, what it tense consistency, I never knew her hahahahaha

I do so love Dimentio, though.

SPM, takes place pre-Whoa Zone.

~~~~~~~~

He needs to know who he’s working with. 

He needs to know what he’s working against. 

The enemy is the hero, at least on paper. The one in red and his band of misfit friends, more story than person, a man tireless in his quest to collect the so-called Pure Hearts and forestall a future already foretold in the Dark Prognosticus.

He’d meet them soon enough.

~~~~~

Perfect worlds. That was the prize for serving the Count’s destructive whims.

Quite the incentive. Who wouldn’t want a reality to shape for themselves, to create an existence tailor-made for one’s own hopes, wants, and dreams?

The thing was, L thought, securing an instrument panel cover with a hard twist of his wrench. 

The thing was, deals too good to be true were usually too good for a reason. (He knew this from experience. What experience exactly, he couldn’t quite articulate, the majority of his memories still floating around his brain like soggy cereal bits, misshapen and bloated past all recognition).

Perfect worlds didn’t manifest from nothing.

It was a law. The first law, in fact.

He must have missed something in translation. Again. This whole dimension, it seemed, communicated in metaphor, in meanings and symbolism that everyone could parse but him. 

And maybe Bleck’s “perfect worlds” were just that. An ideal to strive after, a motivation, an existence excised of bad actors who threatened the fabrics of reality.

Or maybe he had landed himself in a cult.

It didn’t matter. Not really. There was a job to do, and he would do it. 

He pulled on one of two large red levers, initiating a set of thrusters on their lowest setting. The reaction time was good, better than good.

But it wasn’t enough. 

He might have to switch to a hypergolic bipropellant. It would be longer-lasting and eliminate the need for an ignition source. But it also would eat through its storage container faster, would heighten the risk of an all-systems implosion, if the engagement got protracted out in the field.

L wasn’t planning on letting the “hero” last more than five minutes forget fifty.

It would be fine.

There had to be more to Bleck’s offer. The stick to the carrot he hung over all their heads. People didn’t just hand out perfect realities, metaphorical or not. Same as they wouldn’t give away a bridge or even a mansion without some reason.

The real question was where the other shoe was hiding. 

And when it was going to drop.

~~~~~~

He decides to start with O’Chunks. 

In truth, he tried to start with Nastasia, but had received a stony refusal in response to the lightest of entreaties. Unsurprising, but a disappointment. She, along with the other one, had the most to plumb, to pick apart and piece back together. 

Despite this, he had been able to gather some tidbits here and there. How her methods of persuasion were more about rearranging the furniture of the mind, of optimizing rather than overwriting. (After all, why should you keep the pans in the lower cupboard, if someone taller did the lion's share of the cooking?)

Maybe that wasn't the best explanation.

He thinks of the other analogy he had concocted, that of an audio engineer standing over a mixing board, Nastasia looming over some piece of equipment with large headphones over her perfectly coiffed hair. Lower inhibition. Fade memory. Add distortion to schemas.

The important thing was that it wasn't magic. Not really. Nastasia's brainwashing abilities, as the others so gleefully called it, was just another path for science to manifest, an evolutionary quirk of biology that allowed someone to tamper with neurology from across a crowded room. 

Odd, yes, but ultimately understandable. Something he could wrap his head around and fit into the neat schematics he had started to draw out for this world.

~~~~~

L was a curious man. He knew that much about himself. 

He wasn’t curious enough to approach the Count.

~~~~~

Of all of them, O’Chunks had provided the least amount of useful information. A typical enforcer-type, his preternatural levels of strength combined with a literal combustion engine of a stomach, the latter of which probably merited some form of investigation, if not for the fact its byproduct was a vile organic concoction that treaded just above the definition of “biological weapon.”

His arms, however, were a point of interest. Not for the heavy-packed layers of muscle (anyone could cultivate that, with enough work and steroids), but rather the way his upper limbs lacked visible continuity, flesh presenting in accordion-like chunks that stretched from bulky shoulders to large, gloved hands.

“There are weapons,” O’Chunks had said in his usual grumbling lilt, gazing at some distant point on the violent black-and-violet horizon. “That can deal far worse damage than etching a wee pretty picture on your skin.”

L would like to see those weapons some day, but he doesn’t push for more information. He still needs these people on his side. 

For now.

~~~~~

Unlike O’Chunks and Nastasia, Mimi is more than happy to show off her shapeshifting abilities, morphing between bodies like a caffeine-poisoned chameleon. It’s weird to be faced with himself. Not the flat, mirror image he's already familiar with, but a true three-dimensional replication, one that breathes and moves just as he would - or at least as he thinks he would. 

He (the other he that’s him and damn if that’s not confusing as all get-out) looks tired, dark circles digging under bright, intelligent blue eyes. If Mimi’s copy is accurate, it means he hasn’t shaved in a few days, although he has no recollection of that amount of time passing. L rubs at his mouth. The bit of stubble forming around his chin and cheeks does nothing to add years to his youthful appearance. He wonders if a mask might help to obscure his age, or at least minimize the fatigue that seems baked into his features. 

If nothing else, he could look menacing, less mad scientist and more like those bad guys in movies set in the Old West. (The Old West of what, he asks himself, shaking the thought away). 

He asks if she can shift into someone else based on a description or a drawing. Mimi shrugs, flitting through a series of outfits before landing on a bright fuchsia dress with ruby-red bowties on either shoulder. “Maybe,” she says, rearranging her two green pigtails, tying them off with matching ribbons. “But I’ve never really tried. I think I'd have to see the person for a proper shift. And you know, I don’t get their abilities or anything, just the looks.” She gives a high, piercing laugh. “Could you imagine? That’d be so gross.”

So gross and so powerful. But she’s right. If Mimi had been able to inherit the abilities of the people she shifted into, she would be the one calling the shots right now, not Count Bleck. L takes a moment to be grateful for that fact. As surly and unapproachable as the Count is, he seems to know what he is doing, even if L is certain he hasn’t shared even half of his plan with his subordinates. A world, or part of a world, ruled by Bleck might not be so bad, at least in comparison to Mimi, who would probably try to bury continents in glitter only to demand an army of hot boyfriends on day two.

L shrugs off visions of muscled, tight-shirted men carrying Mimi on a palanquin through a rainbow-colored apocalypse. He considers asking her to shift into the hero, the man in red he knows she’s already faced, and that he’ll be facing (and beating) soon. 

Something stops him.

He tells himself he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise. 

~~~~~

“But what if you were stripped of your magic? If you had to rely on physical combat alone?”

Dimentio’s mask splits into an uneven smile. 

“Are you testing me, my cantankerous friend?”

He's put off this conversation for days. 

A good scientist explores all avenues, he had told himself, building up the resolve to go through with his plan.

It was an essential step. Was maybe the keystone to understanding what was going on around him. 

Unfortunately, it meant being one-on-one with a man (if he was a man at all) who more often than not regarded L like he was a prime cut of meat about to be served on a cheap plastic lunch tray.

It was unnerving. 

And completely bewildering.

Obviously, I’m testing you, asshole, L frowns, throwing his arms across his chest. “Let’s just say as a hypothetical that some day," a day which I hope will never come, "we have to combine forces. I want to know what I’m getting into.”

Dimentio crosses his legs, allowing himself to float upwards. 

“Combine forces?” The jester takes his chin in his hand, rictus etched into his dual-colored mask. “What a delightful turn of phrase! Such a sculptor of language you are, Mr. L.”

L rolls his eyes with a violent moan. This was why he hated conversations with the jester.

“Just answer the question, Dimentio! If your magic gets taken out by this so-called hero, am I going to be on my own here?” 

So far, all he had been able to glean from his annoying co-worker was that he had terrible suggestions for robotic weaponry (magic missiles? really?) and an aversion to standing on the ground so severe that - if it had been anyone else but Dimentio - he might have called it a phobia. 

He breaks every law of physics with a smile and snap of his fingers. 

The others, he could figure out, could create some kind of link to reality that matched with his understanding of how the universe worked, of the rules and laws that governed the physical realm. Sure, maybe it all sat on the far boundaries of what was possible, but the fact remained that it was possible, that he could justify the existence of this reality and these people within it by expanding his understanding by a few hundred-thousand square meters.

Dimentio existed wholly outside his paradigm.

“If my magic is taken out,” Dimentio echoes, biting on the tip of a gloved finger in an obviously affected pose. “What a catastrophe that would be! Like an asteroid whose path is fixed on a four-footed, doomed civilization.”

“What are you talking about, Dimentio?”

In one smooth movement, the jester comes to land near his feet, the bells dangling from his motley headdress giving a dull tinkle as he curls his hand around L’s shoulder.

“For my magic to be nullified,” Dimentio whispers, the words shimmering with a dangerous edge, “it would require quite the cataclysmic event.”

L wills himself to not pull away from Dimentio’s creeping grasp. “What kind of cataclysmic event?”

The jester stares at him, his mask devoid of any writ emotion, yellow and black twin crescents peering into him with an unquestionable, nearly palpable intensity. A moment later, his sharp fingers dig even further into L’s shoulder, voice lowering to the edge of audibility. “You know what they say about curiosity, Mr. L.”

“Yeah, I do,” L growls, ripping himself from Dimentio’s claw-like grasp. “It killed the cat. But what they don’t like to tell you is that satisfaction brought it back.”

“Oh, Mr. L!” Dimentio cackles, a loud, jagged sound like two knives being dragged over a ceramic plate.  The jester makes a backwards somersault in the air before wiping an invisible tear from his yellowed eye. “You truly are the right man for this job. Fortune has smiled wide upon us with your arrival.”

L tugs at his shirt, trying to wipe away for cloying feeling of Dimentio's touch. This conversation is going nowhere. He should have known the creepy jester was just going to waste his time. L ignores the still-giggling figure, heading towards the door. “Next time you don’t have your magic, don’t come running to me for help.”

“Au contraire, my friend," Dimentio sits up, eyes bright. "I imagine if I don’t have my magic, you would be the first I would call on for help.”

L pauses, his hand hovering above an geometric-engraved ebony doorknob.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The only response he receives is a wide grin.

“What are you, Dimentio?” L asks after a moment, the question bubbling past his lips in a low, urgent hiss.

Dimentio floats towards him, head tilted. “The better question is what are you, my dear? And what will you become when satisfaction brings you back?”

“I…” L stutters, edging towards the door, hands groping for the knob. Abstract images fly across the canvas of his mind, too fast grab onto, a whirlwind of muted tones and undefinable emotion.

“Mr. L!” a high voice commands from the other side of the room. L gasps, peering around Dimentio's looming form, his heart beating a trail up his throat. It's Nastasia. Clipboard in hand, her pen tapping an impatient rhythm, the Count's second-in-command frowning at the scene laid out before her. 

“It’s time, Mr. L,” she says simply.

Dimentio floats to the side, allowing L a path of egress. “Do enjoy your little reunion, Mr. L," he says, words soft enough only he and L can hear. "I hope it may prove fruitful. And do give the hero my most sincere regards.”

L shivers, slipping past the jester, giving one more look over his shoulder as Dimentio reclines, hands joined together behind his head, one leg crossed over the other like he's enjoying a day at the beach. 

It's nothing. He’ll unravel Dimentio’s game later on, will get to the bottom of Bleck's true intentions, will piece together this world and his place in it.

But for now, he has a hero to destroy.

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

The Science of Baking

This is for @thunder-pride Agender Day and also Week 1 Bingo prompts Role Models, Baking and Self Love, although they don't technically say it. Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the headcanon of Brains being quietly agender which you can find here, and for reading this through 😊 It's all rather fluffy and also features Gordon, MAX and an OC.

Gordon walked into the kitchen to find an interesting array of equipment out on the kitchen table. A mixing bowl with the electric whisk, three baking trays but also a test tube rack with various colours of liquid, scientific scales and a thermometer. He would usually be the suspect for this type of thing so he wondered who else was cooking.

A small clatter and MAX emerged from the walk in fridge with various cartons and bottles, closely followed by Brains. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting.

“Hey Brains, what you cooking?” Gordon had never seen Brains cook before, but it couldn’t be worse the Grandma’s and he quite fancied something after his swim.

“Chocolate Brownies Gordon, but we must follow the recipe exactly. Max and I are preparing the ingredients.”

“Brains, we used to make those when we were little. You just add water to the brownie mixture, mix it, put it in the oven and then fight your brothers over who got to eat the leftovers in the bowl. You don’t need a recipe. I’ll bring you a mixture packet on the next supplies run.”

Brains looked at him with the sort of horrified look usually reserved for people like Lemaire. “No Gordon, we must follow Chris’s recipe.”

Brains switched on a hologram above the table and a person who Gordon assumed was Chris appeared in hologram form. They were as blonde as he was and probably a similar age but with green eyes. They were wearing a t-shirt with a large agender flag on it.

“Greetings, All!” Chris announced in an accent Gordon couldn’t quite place but he knew was British.

“Hi Chris!” Gordon replied, but Chris carried on talking. Gordon realised Chris was a recording.

Brains paused the recording. “Gordon, this is Chris MacDonald. They are the winner of the fifty-third series of the Great British Bake Off and they have turned cooking into a science!” Brains looked so enthusiastic, and MAX beeped in agreement.

Brains turned the hologram recording back on and Chris was very clearly and charismatically explaining what ingredients were needed to the milligram or millilitre, and Brains was hanging off their every word whilst Max helped.

Gordon watched him for a couple of minutes. It was clear that Brains was in his element applying scientific methods to this endeavour. The swim could wait. Besides, this person had won a baking competition and Gordon was very much looking forward to having first dibs on the brownies. Many years in a house with four brothers had taught him you didn’t give up that opportunity.

Realising he was thirsty and that this recipe clearly wasn’t going to take the ten minutes he was used to as a child, Gordon got up to get a drink. “You want one Brains?” he asked. No answer. Gordon tried two more times before waving his hand in front of the hologram. Brains stared at him. “You want a drink?”

Brains paused the hologram again. “Oh sorry Gordon. I had …”

“Forgotten I was there?”

“Erm, yes, sorry.” Brains looked embarrassed. “It’s just that … Chris is a hero of mine. They are so unashamedly who they are, and I don’t always feel comfortable with that.”

Gordon smiled. “Brains, who you are doesn’t always have to be shouted from the rooftops. I mean, in my case it does because that’s who I am, but you are not me or Chris or anybody else who isn’t you. If that means you're more comfortable being out as agender only to those close to you, that's OK too. As long as you’re happy being you.”

Brains looked up from his feet. “Thanks Gordon.”

“No problem. I meant it. But also part of being me is I want to try those brownies first and I get to share the bowl mixture after my swim. Deal?”

“Oh they won’t be ready for a while. After MAX and I have cooked the brownies Chris has another recipe to 3D print some Pride flags onto them in icing.”

Gordon stared at Brains for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

“What?”

Gordon opened the kitchen doors to head out to the pool for his swim. “That’s you being you Brains. You’re more comfortable with it than you think.”

[anextravagantliar]

veilguard spoilers ahead - as it has been fifteen days and Knife time

I haven't been explicit with the words, even though y'all know my thoughts.

I am glad he's dead. Oh my God.

NOW ONLY WE the people CAN FUCK WITH HIM

I cried like a baby the first thirty minutes because Tepid got the first run, and I will tell you this: Tepid said wait, hold on, but as soon as Solas opened his big mouth, I was like yep, he's cooked, put me in the ground too.

Let's briefly break it down to explain why I clocked it in as the knife went in. Peepaw is fifty-one— at most fifty-two at the start of datv, and he chooses to walk up a set of stairs and get into a hand fight with a man with a loaded gun. One, he's not that strong anymore. Rook helped him up over a barrier - which can be chalked up to being nice, but if we're playing in this sand box here's the truth - peepaw has been on a horse and walking around Thedas because Charter said so and is not in great shape at the start of DATV. He's tired, and this is an exhausted man's last march; you can call it if you listen and hear Varric ask Rook to take care of the team. Okay, Phil Coulson, see you in Agents of Shield for some reason.

To be honest with you Varric could have taken Solas in a fight in the middle of DAI - but to me that stops at the well.

Solid delivery and diabolical, very few notes. I love the elves, but I hate the skirting they get. Solas I am kissing you on your big bald dumb head, there are at least four ways around what you have to do and I love that you pick the messiest way each time. My favourite ending for him is the one where he goes a bit loony toon villain at the end. I get he was mad, but it's the same thing as the blood magic line; I listened to your funny words in Haven, magic man; I know who you are. Maybe. You're the star of the show. You're awful and the worst. Cried like a baby when Tepid's Inky and Solas chose to go to fade jail together.

I liked all the companions, but you can guess who I was most happy to have in the party at all times. Banter was good, I wish the team had more time to bicker and grow, but that's a me thing. Shorter timeline for this game than the last three - likely weeks or months rather than months and years.

However, I do not personally like the way Varric's death was handled outside of this. It makes my former little medical brain go mad because what do you mean your companions are just off letting Rook talk to what I assume is a table and a bed as Bianca is canonically in Harding's care - as the Xenon wants to buy her arms even in pieces. My dude, Rook, is so massively concussed. As I have had a concussion that should have killed me - someone should have been watching Rook a touch closer. Also, my gripe with DAI and having Inky wake up on a bedroll to the four idiots fighting in the snow, and then Sunday School breaks out.

I know what is happening here, and I understand why they wrote it this way as Phil Coulson'd him into the lauder of Heroes in the Great Big Sky. The good thing is I can be critical of their choices, KNOW why they made them due to pressures from EA, and then carry on with my boat.

I am fine with his death, I think it's apt as they couldn't keep all the choices, and Blabbermouth knows like everyone. Catch the one string to Rook? POWER IMBALANCE.

So what does this mean for me?

Nothing.

This blog is here to stay - and my swerve verse is simple. If you want a DATV verse, great. Peepaw is alive, and he's got a massive hunk of lyrium in his chest, or he's rattling around with Solas saying shitty things because they're stuck, and he's about to either commit a crime or figure out if he can be the crime committed.

Also, doubling down, I have built six years of Kirkwall, and I'm sinking with that ship. I'm taking Sid and Nik with me, and that's it.

Sorry.

[sshbpodcast]

To Be Continued: Multi-parters in Star Trek (Part 1)

By Ames

Back in the day when Star Trek series were less serial, stretching an episode out to two weeks was a sneaky sneaky way to stretch a dollar, applying two weeks’ worth of budget to one story. Relatedly/unrelatedly, this was also the heyday of the season finale cliffhanger, in which a show would leave their audience in suspense for a few months in order to ensure they’ll return next season to see how their heroes get out of their latest scrape. Trek of the streaming era does this less since modern series are arguably all one continuous plot, so that got your hosts here at A Star to Steer Her By thinking: What makes for a good two-parter?

Over the years, we’ve very rarely been satisfied with multi-parters. Our constant refrain has been: “This should have been one episode.” So let’s look back at our first batch of two-parters from The Original Series and The Next Generation to see how the pattern emerged. Check ‘em out below and listen to our chatter on this week’s podcast episode (skip to 55:25) to see which ones actually had enough material for a sequel and which ones could have been trimmed to a 44-minute slot. And spoiler: it’s gonna be a cliffhanger!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

TOS: “The Menagerie”

The only two-parter we see in the ultra-episodic original series was really just a way to keep up with deadlines and to work around budget limitations, already thin mere months into the franchise’s existence. The unused pilot, “The Cage,” (which we talked about the other week in our pilots post!) already existed. The team had a full week’s worth of material right there to release at no extra cost! It was just a matter of writing a frame story around it to feature the current cast, and presto! It’s basically a clipshow that audiences wouldn’t realize is a clipshow!

And while the two-parter itself occasionally feels a little stretched (watching people watching Star Trek isn’t exactly riveting), we do have to admit that adding the Pike character and his fateful story into the canon would benefit us fifty years down the line. Is watching both parts of “The Menagerie” any better than watching “The Cage” on its own? Well, that may be a matter of taste and how tired you get of courtroom hearings.

TNG: “The Best of Both Worlds”

The next generation of shows would use the two-parter more commonly and to a new effect. TNG’s first foray into season finale cliffhangers is also one of its best uses of the mechanism. Ending season three with “The Best of Both Worlds, Part I”’s hair-raising final moments teases the audience so expertly that they are guaranteed to be champing at the bit after the summer hiatus to see what Locutus’s deal is, if Shelby will stay on the crew, how Riker will handle being in charge, and what the effects of firing on the assimilated captain will be.

By the time season four starts up, we also see another trend with two-parters: one part is usually far better than the other, and it’s frequently the first part. Part II is definitely laggier, and even the writers admit that they hadn’t planned how they were going to reconcile the actions of Part I until they’d already shot themselves in the face, quite literally. So while Part I was groundbreaking television, especially in the 90s, TNG still needed to learn to pace themselves.

TNG: “Redemption”

Lightning doesn’t strike twice, and the next season’s big twist in its finale is significantly less interesting than firing on a Borgified Picard. Instead, “Redemption” introduces us to another incarnation of Denise Crosby, this time as Sela. It’s more perplexing than mind-blowing, though, and the cheesy “Humans have a way of showing up when you least expect them” line doesn’t help matters.

This two-parter is on the more convoluted side, but we can forgive most of the rest of it because it’s the Klingons and Romulans at their best. From the Duras Sisters and Toral, to the Klingon Civil War, to the Romulans’ involvement, to the ship blockade, to whatever on earth Sela was supposed to be, these scripts feel as dense as one of the novels. Some may argue that there’s too much going on, but at least it doesn’t lag.

TNG: “Unification”

Oh good, Sela’s back in our next two-parter! “Unification” is plopped a couple weeks later in the middle of season 5, mostly as a way to cross-promote with Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, and to get Nimoy into TNG for the fans to cream themselves over. The Romulans are up to yet more shenanigans, as is their wont, and ambassador Spock is in the mix! What’s not to love?

Well, a lot, it turns out. As far as catering to fans goes, your SSHB hosts are frequently too skeptical to take the bait. And not being blinded by all the familiar guest stars, we were able to see all the flaws. The pacing of this one struggles more than ever. Even more than “Redemption,” there’s just too much going on, the pudding is thoroughly overegged, all the sideplots on on the Enterprise feel superfluous, and Sela is far too distracting as a concept. Like most Romulan plans, everything is just overwrought. Even if that does mean it has plenty to do over two episodes, we question if it’s worth it.

TNG: “Time’s Arrow”

What definitely isn’t worth it is the frustratingly repetitive and obnoxious “Time’s Arrow,” which is on so many of our bad lists, I get to pick and choose which links to cross promote! It’s another cliffhanger episode that bridges the gap between seasons, but since none of us could even remember how Part I ended, that pretty much shows you what kind of job it did at leaving an impact. (I looked it up and apparently the answer was Picard and crew following the Devidians through the temporal door, I guess? Yawn.)

While I can (and often do!) blame most of these episodes’ faults on the ear-splitting portrayal of Mark Twain, there’s not much here that’s actually compelling overall. Any elements that could be compelling (Data dealing with his own mortality, aliens who live out of phase and feast on human neural energy, etc.) are emphatically upstaged by the goofy hijinks in the past! It’s a pair of episodes that are tonally all over the place and agony to watch. Not only should it have not been a two-parter, it shouldn’t have even been a one-parter.

TNG: “Chain of Command”

In a rare instance of an episode for which the second part is significantly better than the first part, see “Chain of Command, Part II.” The first installment of this mid-season-6 two-parter is mostly setting up what will be a phenomenal acting showcase in the second, which could frankly just stand on its own with some very simple tweaks. The Cardassian torture chamber is where the action is. The rest can’t stand up to David Warner and Patrick Stewart.

And sure, you’d want to keep Jellico’s “Get It Done” attitude, Riker’s little temper tantrum, and getting Troi in a proper uniform for a change, so maybe cramming it all into one episode would feel bloated, but maybe it’d be worth it? Or maybe we could retain the two-parter and give Patrick Stewart the proper runway to get to his “There Are Four Lights” moment if we swapped Ro in for Crusher, who just seems out of place inexplicably spelunking around for a full episode. I posit Ro could’ve balanced a mediocre Part I with the stellar Part II.

TNG: “Birthright”

We’d take all the part ones of “Chain of Command” we could handle over “Birthright” though. Over the course of an episode and a half, Worf finds a colony of Klingons under the rule of Romulans while looking for Mogh (which turns out to be a red herring). And for the other half episode, we get some surrealist Data stuff plus a random Bashir cameo.

The writers seemed to know there wouldn’t be enough of the Worf plot to stretch over two episodes, so they stapled on this Data dreaming plot that ends by the time Part I is over. Which just feels weird because then Part II is nothing BUT Worf plot… and it’s just not that compelling. Part I ends with Worf just finding the camp, which makes everything up to that point feel like exposition. And thus skippable. I’d say it should have been condensed down to one episode and then you could move the Data plot to some other episode, but frankly they could have both been skipped entirely.

TNG: “Descent”

While I wouldn’t put “Descent” among my favorite TNG episodes or anything, it might actually be a decent example of a two-parter. There may be a little stretching of Part I to get to the cliffhanger, but overall it keeps the pace moving along. I can’t think of a time during either episode when I was feeling bored or thinking more things ought to be happening. Sure, the season 6 cliffhanger revealing that Lore has been behind the whole scheme is kind of a corny twist to keep fans abuzz over the season break, but it does its job.

It’s also a two-parter that keeps most of the characters busy, which is a rarity! Crusher flies into a sun. Geordi gets tortured by Lore. Troi tries (and fails) to help Data with his emotions. Everything is working toward the same goal instead of tacking on more and more disparate things. It’s not perfect, as the Borg would prefer, but it might be the most worthy of being a two-parter so far. Dang, that’s something I never thought I’d say.

TNG: “Gambit”

The final two-parter of TNG we get until the finale (which we talked about last week!) comes in the middle of season 7, and boy does it fall flat. Picard feels out of character, like he’s involved in this whole pirate shenanigan just for the sake of plot. Riker’s on top of things, but that’s pretty typical. But everyone else feels like they’re just spinning their wheels while the other plot unfolds.

Unlike in “Descent” where I felt like the other characters’ plots felt organic and in service of the whole concept, this one just feels like everyone’s doing busywork so they could justify putting them on the callsheets. In terms of our pirate friends, they keep momentum for the full two parts, revealing things as they go to open up new possibilities. So yeah, “Gambit” definitely fills its airtime. It’s just not that interesting.

—

Our story continues next week with more multi-parters, so make sure you’re following this space. Go to Black Alert with us over on the podcast as we catch up on episodes of Discovery on SoundCloud or wherever you like to listen, and compare cliffhanger theories with us over on Facebook. To be continued…

[novankenn]

Reluctant Hero?

= Thirty-Three = (Chapter List)

Nora: So, to the bullhead station?

Jaune: And get on one of those death-traps? No way. We're taking the Delta.

Cardin: (From the back seat) Beacon is on the top of a cliff, how is this bucket of... (Nora shot him a glare over her shoulder, cutting him off)

Nora: So how are we getting back without a bullhead?

Jaune: (Guiding the Delta through Vale's traffic.) There's an old access road from Vale to Beacon. We're taking that.

Nora: An OLD road? Can we... even make it?

Jaune: The Classic can make it through anything, oh ye of little faith!

Cardin: How are you so sure?

Jaune: If this old gal could get me and my friends up to the... um... she just will, trust me. Nora, hit play if you please... we need some cruising music.

Nora gave Cardin a questioning look over her shoulder, only to get a shrug of his shoulders as a response. So she reached over and hit play on the old tape deck.

Jaune: Oh yeah, that's the stuff!

Nora and Cardin sat back, giving Jaune a similar look, as he started to tap the wheel with his cybernetic hand, while also singing along... very off-key.

Despite Cardin and Nora's reservations, the Delta 88, or as Jaune called it "the Classic" was easily handling the rutted and rough very unmaintained road that lead from Vale proper to Beacon. Though neither was appreciating Jaune's singing.

After the fifth repetition of the song, as apparently the tape was just the one song, Nora had had enough and reached over and ejected the tape.

Jaune: Hey! (Taking his eyes off the road and giving Nora a look) I was...

Cardin: LOOK OUT!

Jaune/Nora: SHIT!

The beowulf hit the front of the Delta, was flipped over the hood to slam into the windshield, causing it's head to burst in a spray of goo that coated the glass. A second impact caused Jaune to slam on the brakes.

Cardin: What the f...?

Nora: Where the FUCK did that come from?

Jaune: (Attempting to use the wipers to clear the windshield, so he could see) I have no... Crap baskets.

Nora: Jaune? (Looks out the smeared windshield, seeing the approaching forms of at least three more beowulf and two missing Beacon applicants.) Crap baskets.

Jaune: Well, we have a choice, Lady and Gent.

Cardin: And that would be?

Jaune: Do we get out and fight, or?

Nora: Or?

Jaune: Do I run them over?

Cardin: Are you serious?

Jaune: Ah yes, I am serious! What do you think I would joke about running people over? That's cold man, real cold.

Nora: They're getting closer!

Jaune didn't wait for any further conversation, as he put the Delta 88 into reverse and stepped on the gas.

Cardin: What are you doing?

Jaune: I need room to get up to speed!

Nora: (having rolled down her window and peeking past the goo covered windshield) I think they know what you're planning on doing!

Jaune: Too late now! (Jaune hit the brake, put the Delta into drive and stomped on the gas.)

Forty-One hundred pounds of steel met a few hundred pounds of flesh at about fifty-miles and hour. Cardin winced at the sounds of bodies being knocked aside, over and under the car. Jaune didn't even flinch as he kept the accelerator floored and the wipers going.

Cardin: Can you even...

Nora: Let go, you bitch!

Deadite Student: (Half climbing through Nora's open window. It's twisted claw like fingers tangled in Nora's hair.) I will swallow your soul!

Jaune: Cardin do something!

Cardin: You do something!

Jaune: I'm driving!

Nora: Get off me, cunt! Someone, just do something!

Deadite Student: You will all die! There is nothing you ca...

BOOM! The Delta swerved dangerously as everyone now coated in gore shook their heads trying to ease the ringing in their ears, thanks to Cardin firing his shotgun inside the cab of the car.

Nora: I GOT IT IN MY MOUTH!!!

Jaune: WHAT?

Cardin: AHHH!!! MY EARS!!!!

Jaune: WHAT?

Thirty minutes later, the goo splattered trio exited the gore covered car. Glynda sighed as she looked them over. She knew she was supposed to ask, but she really didn't want to. Really, she did not want to know what those three menaces had gotten involved in. But it was her job to keep tabs on the trio.

Glynda: Would you mind explaining?

Jaune: WHAT?

Glynda: Why are you yelling?

Nora: I NEED MOUTHWASH!!! OR BLEACH!!

Glynda: I... ah... CAN, SOMEONE, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!

Cardin: (His hands pressed to his ears) I'LL NEVER LOOK AT ROADKILL THE SAME WAY AGAIN!!

Glynda: Roadkill?

Nora stumbled away from her teammates making a bee-line for the fountain, and as shocked students and a dumbfounded Glynda watched she dunked her whole head in to the cool clear water. Jaune stumbled about to the rear of the Delta 88 and popped the trunk. Glynda's shoulder's dropped as she watched as the young man, pulled out a six-pack of beer and proceeded to walk over to a nearby bench.

Glynda: WHAT HAPPENED? WHY ARE YOU ALL SO... SO... GOOEY?

Cardin: DID YOU SAY SOMETHING, TEACH?

[thatsnotmygunflash]

oohh i guess either "i'll choose you always. no matter what" or "i love the idea of growing old with you"

Who says we can't do both? 😉 I'm in the mood for some fluff so why not.

"You're late," Len said as soon as he felt the air shift in the kitchen, not taking his attention off the dirty casserole dish he was viciously scrubbing.

"I know, I'm sorry, Hal was-"

"Taking up all your spare time again." Len cut in with a too-casual tone, scrubbing at the stubborn specks in the corners with a single-minded focus. "Yes, I'm aware."

"You're jealous," Barry huffed.

"I don't trust him," Len said quickly in response, using the nail of his thumb to scrap off the black spots the brush couldn't seem to get off.

"Because you think he likes me." Barry accused with a tired sigh. Len didn't reply for a long moment, rinsing off the soap still sticking to the surface and setting the dish down in the drainer with a harsh clank of glass against metal when it knocked against the saucepan.

"He does," Len said with finality as he shut off the water. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he reached for the towel on his shoulder, using it to wipe down the water splashes around the sink.

"Lenny," Barry whispered gently, laying a hand on his shoulder as he came to stand directly behind Len. "You know Hal is just a friend."

"Like how Kara is just a friend?" Len bit out against his better judgment. He hated himself for being like this. For letting his overwhelming feelings for his speedster to cause such ugly emotions to stir inside his chest. He had never been like this before. He didn't want to start a fight, but he also hadn't wanted to sit in his empty kitchen feeling increasingly more neglected with every passing minute, the food he cooked for their weekly date night growing cold waiting on the counter for Barry to show up. His text message sent in the first half hour went unanswered and the phone call at the top of the first hour got the same treatment.

"Lenny, I'm really sorry, okay?"

"Why were you three hours late?" Len asked, finally turning around to pin Barry down with a harsh eyebrow raise.

"I needed his help with something," Barry replied hesitantly, his nervous hands twitching at his side. It made Len bite the inside of his cheek, keeping the first harsh response that popped into his head to himself.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Seriously Lenny, I'm sorry, okay? I swear I just needed his help with something."

He was lying. Barry was actually trying to lie to him. He thought the hero knew better by now, you can't bullshit a bullshitter.

"That's not an explanation," Len said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared the younger man down with an accusing frown.

"Lenny, you know you're it for me, right?" Barry rested both hands against Len's biceps, giving a reassuring squeeze to the tense muscles. "It doesn't matter who flirts with me or how well I get along with my friends. I'd choose you, always. No matter what. In fact, I intend to prove it."

"How do you plan to do that?" Len asked, narrowed gaze stuck on Barry's devoted smile.

"Lenny, baby, do you wanna know what gets me out of bed most days?"

"What?"

"I love the idea of growing old with you. Of retiring from the hero business and living on a ranch outside of the city. Having grandkids begging their parents to let them stay at our house every weekend. I love the idea of buying a house and living with you for the next fifty years. Of growing our family as big as you’ll let me. I love the idea of you and I old and gray and even more in love than we are now. I love the idea of us, forever. I want you, Lenny, I'll always want you." Barry reached into his back pocket, coming out with a clenched fist and an adoring shine in his eyes. "I was late because I was having a hard time deciding what you would like best. I wanted it to be perfect. Something you could look at every day and still love even fifty years from now."

Barry held out his hand, opening his palm to reveal the shining silver ring.

"I want you in my future, Lenny, I want you to be my future. Will you marry me?"

"Six."

"What?" Barry laughed in nervous confusion, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Len continued to stand there staring unblinkingly at the offered ring.

"My cut off for kids. It's six."

"Is that your idea of a yes?" Barry questioned hopefully, holding his breath when Len slowly reached a hand out towards the ring.

"Yes," Len confirmed softly, taking the ring between two fingers and holding it up to the light to look at it properly. It was a simple silver band, at first glance, but as Len moved it from side to side it looked almost like it was shimmering blue in the right light.

"Yes?" Barry repeated, a blinding grin stretching across his face when Len slipped the band onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly. The weight settling against his skin just enough to be present but not enough to bother him. He could see why Barry had chosen it.

"Yes, Barry,"

[why-is-thinking-so-hard]

okay so au time prologue actually

this gets really long

⚠️spoilers for mean girls, both of them⚠️

fuck okay, I have to remember how this all started hang on...

and the context IS important TO ME

anyway, I think this started with the bus actually. holy shit, this started yesterday? oh my god... I feel like this has been plaguing my brain for weeks.

so my friend and I had just watched both mean girls movies because he had never seen either one before and that needed to be fixed. after he left my place, I saw a post joking about making a legal case for the bus driver speeding through the school zone and my adhd brain took that and ran and I mean RAN. before I knew it I was thinking about how that crash was intentional.

we had just watched both movies so the scene was fresh in my mind, I mean, they had to see regina in the road well before they hit her, but there's no attempt to warn her and get her out of the road or stop the bus until after she's been hit. in both movies the road is clear, not a single car or person-- hell, not even a single piece of trash--, regina's in the road for a minute or so, there are no visible crossroads or corners around the crossings where she's hit so the driver didn't whip around a corner and plausibly not see her, and you don't hear the brakes on the bus until after regina's been hit and buses are big so takes time for the brakes to engage, if they were trying to stop before they hit her, you would've heard the screech and swerving during that scene but there's nothing and the bus is heading straight on.

anybody who follows @butchregina (love their art, literally gave me gender envy and now im shopping for binders) knows they often ask what people are thinking about and so I sent the whole above analysis in and they answered "I think someone put a hit out on her"

what does this have to do with a superhero/spider-man cadina au? im getting there, but wow this is getting long. why is it I can write an essay like its nothing when im no longer in school?

the answer was funny so I sent it to my friend and he said "there is no driver cady just manifests them[...] its why she was homeschooled in the African savannah her prents had to be somewhere with no cheeselog busses for her to teleport to her location within a fifty mile radius or smth," which I also sent in as an ask with the caption "another option," to which the answer was "she is a superhero. She does control the buses."

so this is where we actually get into the how the superhero/spider-man au thoughts came to be. that response got me thinking about superhero cady, not cady summoning buses because that made me lose my mind, but superhero cady. part of me was endeared to the idea of a cadina where cady had powers but regina didn't but how can regina not have powers? when I started thinking about it it truly was just a vague superpower au, like, cady somehow got powers and had to hide them- maybe janis and Damian know and are her Man In The Van TM- and then there's regina who kinda looks down on her but thinks her hero alter ego is the shit it was a whole thing but I feel like I should wrap this essay up.

point being, there are more details, but I will get into them in another post because this was the prologue, the context of why this has been plaguing my mind for... less than 24 hours at last check. I will be posting more about this under superhero cadina or spider-man cadina, it depends on how vague I am about their story and powers.

if you read to the end of this, thank you for indulging my rambling about whatever the hell this was/is going to end up being, best of love and luck to you

[moon-blanket]

Waking up to the Monarchial Summit video dropping was the scariest notification of my life.

IT'S TIME !!!!! IT'S TIME IT'S TIME IT'S TIME IT'S TIME !!!!!!!

FIFTY ONE MINUTES ???? Holy fuck this is going to be the longest post in the world i'm so sorry.

Shaw Pack Boys gettin' ready to head off !!!1 YIPPEE !!! I love hearing all of the Pack and their mates interacting oh my god it fills me with glee every time.

----

William still isn't answering calls ?? Hey dude you NEED to get some kind of act together. Vincent needs you !! His silly little music bit was very heartwarming though :') HE GAVE LOVELY A CROWN !!!! OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO SOB AND CRY ON THE FLOOR FOR EONS. He's so nervous about if they like it or not oh my god. oh my god. HE PUTS IT ON THEIR HEAD !!!!!!! CALLS THEM BEAUTIFUL !!!!! WELCOMED TO MONARCHY !!!!! SAYS THEY WEAR IT WELL !!!!!!! HOW CAN I BE NORMAL !!!!!!

"You're my heart, and it is such a privilege that i get to stand at your side. Thank you, for being a part of my life, baby. The best part." I AM WEEPING PLEAAASE WHEN IS IT MY TURN.

----

Please tell me Samuel Collins has dressed for the occasion. Please tell me it's to the Nines. Remember my big post about doing Anything in the world to see it. Yeah hi hey. Let me see it.

Sam being a Butter Pecan Ice Cream lover makes all the sense in the world and more. Of course he would dude.

----

Porter flipping on Vincent and Not bringing Treasure to the Summit is a low blow. Babygirl you can't keep doing this.

Vincent asking Lovely if He can be the one to punch him this time. What a slay. Love you forever.

----

VINCENT WELCOMING THE PACK IN WAHEEE !!!! I can hear the awkwardness because he didn't know beforehand. He called them enjoyable !! moreso than other people !! David saying that Vincent and Lovely both having a spot at their table i'm falling to my knees.

Uhoh, they're already getting job offers !!

Asher asking him to blink twice if he needs help, and Milo saying that he looks like he has a gun to his head. LMAO. Help this poor man.

----

Vincent's reassurances that Lovely is being a good host :(((

House of Bennett !!! The king seems. So.... nice. wow.

The prince calling him "A kid in his dad's suit." UHOH. And asking for Alexis immediately. That isn't unassuming at all.

----

ALEXIS ?????? ALEXIS SOLAIRE ????? THE ALEXIS SOLAIRE ??? IN THE PRIME UNIVERSE ???? HELLO I SUPPOSE !!!! NICE TO MEET YOU !!!

Alexis asking if they'll turn into a vampire or die and leave sam without them !!! Hey what the fuck !!!! That's kind of sick and twisted !!!

Darlin' being like "I can solo her" is SO REAL. I can do it too. Let me at her ! LET ME AT HER !!!!

Alexis's reasoning for turning Sam from her own mouth !! That's fun to hear. Fuck that !

PORTER HERO MOMENT ? Oh my god their back and forth. I'm LIVING FOR IT !!!! THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING !!!! Calling her a family disappointment made me choke on my water.

Him asking if they're alright, even if it was to stop a fight from breaking out. SAM IS BACK WAHOO !!!

SAM IS ABOUT TO GO OFF ON ALEXIS !!!!! GET HER BABY !!!! AND DARLIN' FOLLOWS !!!!! LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE WOOOOO !!!!!!!!

---- HOW ARE WE ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH DUDE WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN ----

David getting a message about being Careful of William. Saying that Quinn had to have come from Somewhere, somewhere with Friends. That William is a horrible judge of character. And dragging all of the fuckin' clan members LMAOOOO.

Man the House of Solaire is a mess huh !!!!

----

SAM LETS FUCKING GO !!!!!! GET HER ASS !!!!! God while it's raining also. It's like a scene from a movie. God I could just IMAGINE the hard stare the two of them exchanged before Alexis finally gave in (in her own way). and the IMMEDIATE zip off from Sam after he heard what he wanted. What a work of art.

----

ASH AND MILO !!! YIPPEE !!!! AND PORTER IS TALKING TO THEM ?? I am going to go fucking crazy oh my god dude I'm going to go NUTS.

(Hey off-topic, but this background music is something that shows up in someone else's videos that I watch and I got So Fucking Confused for a second LMAO. Okay we can carry on)

Immediately asking Sweetheart if they're an investigator for the Department, as well as having a Time Crunch-- is VERY SUSPICIOUS.

HEY HE KNOWS ABOUT CLOSEKNIT ??? PORTER YOU CAN'T ALSO BE IN TOWN FOR CLOSEKNIT. HEY YOU CAN'T ALSO BE INVOLVED.

ONE OF CLOSEKNIT'S CURRENT BACKERS IS HERE ?? THE HOUSE OF BENNETT ?????

Okay Porter you're maybe a fuckin' hero. Even if you have potential strings with this.

Telling Sweetheart to get in and listen and get out seems SCARY !!!! HEY THIS COULD BE A SETUP FOR SOMETHING !!!!! HEY UHOH !!!!

Milo being worried for his mate !! hey me too !!!!

Oh my god it's been almost two years since Inversion. oh NO Ash doesn't know what Milo did that night.

Even through his worries he immediately stands up for it when Ash is a little wary about it. :')))

----

SWEET SAM AND DARLIN' MOMENT IN THE RAIN !!!!!!! I'M GONNA EAT THIS UP !!!!!!!!!

Sam stickin' around Alexis even after showin' her true colors, saying there is a heart in her somewhere deep (deep, deep, deep) down in there somewhere. Even if he hates her with everything he has.

He found one of her "real person" moments from her when they talked. Just like a movie dude, i'm tellin' ya.

Him reassuring Darlin' that they can absolutely handle themself, but she is a problem that He "brought" in to their relationship-- so he wanted to at least Help. And deal with his own problems.

HE CALLED HER A BITCH DUDE LET'S GOOOO !!!!! COMMON W.

Darlin' saying that their problems are shared :'))) what if i just scream into the night.

---- HOW ARE WE STILL NOT DONE ----

Uuuuuh-oh. Asher pulling David and Angel to the side. Telling the what's-up.

David and Asher exchanging some kind of look about it oh my GOD what another scene from a movie. I'm so proud of Asher for asserting his decision. He's grown so much !!!

David saying he Knows that Asher can do this. THAT'S BEST FRIENDS RIGHT THERE !!!! WOOOOO.

----

OH MY GOD SWEETHEART EAVESDROPPING.

"We risk losing ground" Closeknit ? The House of Bennett ?? Why are they against demons ? Why did they put their stakes (no pun intended) into CloseKnit ?

SWEETHEART ARE YOU MAKING NOISE ??? SWEETHEART BABY WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOING !!!!!!! HEY YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL.

WHY ARE WE CUTTING IT HERE PLEASE ARE THEY OKAY.

----

Oh my god Porter starting a fight with Vincent so that they can take away attention from whatever Sweetheart is doing with House Bennett.

I understand that Vincent can't know because of time constraints, but i can't imagine how he feels when it's Suddenly happening in front of EVERY important person in the Vampire circle of Dahlia. At least that makes the fight convincing. .... hahah ......

HEY KING BENNETT IS DEAD ???? HEY WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED ???? SWEETHEART ???? HEY SWEETHEART WHAT HAPPENED ?????? ARE YOU OKAY ????? PLEASE DON'T TELL ME YOU DID THAT !!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOW DOES ALEXIS KNOW ??? HEY HOW DOES SHE KNOW BEFORE SOMEONE FOUND OUT.

----

THAT'S WHERE IT ENDS ????? HEY WHAT THE FUCK ??????? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT ????

I AM GOING TO GO BERSERK DUDE !!!!!!!!!! HOW LONG UNTIL THE NEXT VIDEO ???? HEY ARE WE OKAY ???? SWEETHEART IS CHILL RIGHT ????? WE'RE COOL ?????

how can I carry on normally after the events that have transpired. Hey i'm in shock and awe. What a great video, by the way. Giving it all of the flowers it deserves and more. But i'm So !!!! afraid for what happens next !!!!!

[legendoftherisingtide]

I stole your soul in exchange for silly bnha thoughts. Sorry. It was in the contract 😔 ANYWAYS!

Amputee!dadzawa after the war :3

When the dust settles and All for One is pronounced truly dead, the world does not go back to normal. It's subtle, but heroism as they know it has changed. Heroes are re-evaluated, and against his better judgement, Aizawa retires. He remains a teacher at UA, but now he gets to have 8 hours of sleep.

When he rolls into class the first day back, his students aren't shocked. They know. A few of them have lost limbs too, some of them are still hospital patients under the watch of recovery girl. But when the dust settles, they are all still here. Alive, fighting like hell. In the first few minutes there is only silence and the occasional rustle outside the door.

And then, Aizawa speaks. "I'm

proud of you all." He says. The words feel hollow and flat as he says them. Like he's waiting for the tension to break.

He wheels forward, and opens his arms up to his students. Tears line many of their eyes, and exhaust lines even more. They're just kids after all. Just kids, who have faced more than most pros.

The first one forward is Bakugou. One of his most promising students, which said a lot when he knew all of them would be in the top fifty in the coming decade. The boy had always been one to lead by example. He hugged Aizawa tightly, glad to see his stoic mentor. He pulls away with tears streaking his usually angry face. "Well? Come hug the old bastard before he hops out and does it himself." He says, not turning to face his classmates.

One by one they take turns hugging their mentor, every student does, even the more off put and quiet ones like Shoji and Todoroki. Everyone's tired. All of them have lost at least one person, not to mention entire parts of their quirk like Jirou. He makes sure to hug her extra tight and remind her just how strong she is.

He affirms all of his students, even the ones putting on a brave face. By the end of it all, he's crying too. He's angry and upset kids this young, hearts this fragile had to be hardened to survive the throws of war. He's destroyed that they had to face this, but he's so proud of them for surviving it anyways.

Sorry I didn’t answer this earlier,, was too busy wiping the tears from my eyes.

But aaaa I feel like I’ve been blessed and gifted this. I wanted to like exchange something back or draw something inspired by this because it was just so beautiful<3

So thank you ╰(*´︶`*)╯

(Also I didn’t expect you to actually take me up on the offer this is great)

[kharmii]

the narrative goes more and more into hate hate and even more hate... it's tiring... I'm sure it is for you as well...

so with this ask I want to know something that you enjoyed recently. Something making you feel better. You can also infodump a little about one of your favorite topics.

I hope you don't mind this blunt question. Just think it's important to take a break and focus on the positive as well.

Just so happens I have a facetious rant. When I first got into Dabiten, I thought....why are there no videos on YouTube of Geten with his hood down? There are a few with glowing eyed gremlin Geten fighting Dabi, but fans might have made them for Dabi because Geten is the most background of background characters. I was all set to make my own compilation video months ago, but then I realized one can't download episodes off Crunchyroll onto a PC, just mobile. I'm old, and I like to do all my work on the PC. The project was abandoned.

Fast forward to two days ago when I had all the episodes I needed to make my compilation video downloaded thanks to the My Hero Academia wiki which is one of the most edited there is. One can look up a character they like and find data on every appearance they've made in both the anime and manga. I also had to relearn how to cut and splice together edited scenes. The last time I did this was six years ago when I made the Best of Renegades Mindbender video from G.I. Joe: Renegades.

Before I made the Geten video, however, I wanted to make a compilation video of the absolute best most funny thing I've ever seen on MHA -that is still funny six months later- and that is during S6.E.12 Dabi's Dance when Best Jeanist asked Bakugo if he was able to look beyond himself and pick out a good hero name. Bakugo replied he had a name and wanted to tell him in person. It was Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite!

Five episodes later in E.17 The Wrong Way to Put Out A Fire, Best Jeanist passes Bakugo in a hospital hallway and asks, "Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite, are you okay?" I about died. I put those two scenes in a compilation video, along with two more scenes with other characters -Ingenium and Rumi Usagiyama- calling Bakugo by his new hero name. When I went to upload it to YouTube, it was immediately blocked for copyright so only I could see it. In order to get it unblocked, I'd have to cut the first fifty seconds of a minute and a half video.

I appealed the decision claiming 'free use for entertainment purposes'. After all, everybody and their grandma is putting up similar MHA content with no problem. I also credited the people who owned the franchise. Looking at the details of the copyright issue, it turns out the owner has a content ID claim against the content (which might be why my idea hasn't been done before). I still disputed it. The owner of the copyright has a couple options.

After you dispute

After you submit a dispute, the person that claimed your video (the claimant) has 30 days to respond.

What the claimant can do

Release the claim: If the claimant agrees with your dispute, they can release their claim. If you were previously monetizing the video, your monetization settings will be restored automatically when all claims on your video are released. Learn more about monetization during Content ID disputes.

Reinstate the claim: If the claimant believes that their claim is still valid, they can reinstate it. This means that your dispute was rejected and the claim stays on your video. You may be eligible to appeal this decision.

Submit a takedown request: If the claimant believes that their claim is still valid, they can submit a copyright takedown request. If the takedown request is valid, your video is removed from YouTube and your channel gets a copyright strike. Learn more about options for resolving a copyright strike.

Let the claim expire: If the claimant doesn’t respond within 30 days, the claim on your video will expire and be released from your video.

I still haven't heard back from the owner of the copyright. Best case scenario is they release the claim, but I'd be happy if they'd ignore it and let the claim expire. That would be the ultimate in delayed gratification, but at least I'd get to share the damn thing twenty-eight days from now. Expect to see it here in exactly four weeks if that happens.

In the meantime, I'll eventually get working on the Geten video for fun. We'll see if that also gets a content ID claim against it. If so, hopefully that too will expire after thirty days, and I won't have wasted my time for nothing. Sheesh, this never happened after I posted all those G.I. Joe videos. Hasbro Studios, LLC, the owners of the franchise, just put a copyright claim against all my fan videos so that they were advertised and had a link to the movie The M.A.S.S. Device | G.I. JOE A Real American Hero | 40th Anniversary Special | G.I. Joe Official put on all my videos.

Side note: I love how all YouTube videos somehow automatically generate a transcript of every bit of text in any given video. That's amazing programmers were able to make that happen. I'd like to see the punctuation be accurate and have the ability to cut out the timestamps every other second, but the fact it exists is amazing enough. Maybe someday...

-Like seriously, why do we have this on YouTube.....

.......but not this:

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

dante and/or the whole dmc 5 crew for the blorbo meme? :)

oh ho HO thank you for this, I love the DMC gang and don't talk about them enough

disclaimer/note to begin with: they all have pretty privelege and they all need to stop being put in situations, because that's just who they all are as people/chew toys of fate

second disclaimer: I made this post while drinking a big old bottle of beer so if this commentary goes off the rails the further you go down the post then that's why

also I'm putting these under a cut bc this got really long

first up: dante!!!

fewer boxes crossed off than I was expecting but when I sat down and thought about it there were some I couldn't justify, e.g. in my heart I want to believe I can fix him and he needs me but let's be real the only thing that ever had the power to fix Dante is getting his bro back </3

also I say most fandom takes are incorrect bc my main contact with the DMC fandom was back in the day where it was very common to portray Dante as this LOL SO RANDOM horndog (i.e. as if his projected persona was his... actual deep-seated personality) and I am a depression Dante truther. not sure what the current fandom mentality on Dante is, if things have moved on then disregard

next up: nero!!!

gonna be honest, I wasn't too fussed about Nero until DMC 5 and then he quickly leapfrogged into my heart because oh my god this poor, poor, POOR kid. born to be the straight man in a universe of wackos. trying SO HARD to keep this mess of a family on track but if you push him so help him sparda he WILL turn this car around.

I need more Nero. I need more Nero and Kyrie, specifically. I need to see them just living their average everyday lives where Nero slops his way home covered in demon guts and sluices off then puts a load of laundry on and helps Kyrie with dinner.

also hahahahahaa definitely nothing in there about growing up feeling like an outcast so thoroughly one might as well have had a fucked up demon appendage, nope, nothing like that!!!

V aka DOUBLE BINGO

I have a thing for pasty ass dark haired skinny twink vaguely feeble romantic poet creatures okay even though I would get so frustrated the tenth time I asked him a simple question and he replied with a blake quote

but also HE WAS HIS OWN PERSON he was REAL he was ALIVE and now he's NOT because he WASN'T VERGIL, he was HIMSELF, he was HUMAN, and now he's GONE but also he lives on but also V as an individual is GONE but they'll still see glimmers and hints of him in Vergil and be reminded of him but but but (bites fingers and screeches)

THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA

okay so all of my years of fangirling aside I have to be upfront that if I ever met Vergil I would want to tear his smug disdainful face apart with my bare hands in a matter of minutes

HOWEVER in the realm of fandom, the only reason he ranks lower than V is because V exudes that high fructose twink timothee chalamet energy

I cannot fix him. he does not need me. and yet. whomst among the ranks of Vergil fancreatures has not sat up late at night in their early/mid-teens frantically typing barely-disguised self-insert fanfic where we DO fix him, where we are the ONLY ones who can fix him, where we are the Eva to his Sparda, washing away the sins of his past and anointing him with love?

Vergil is the most anti-hero of all time. he has it all. he's a genocidal maniac, except maybe he isn't because maybe the qliphoth was going to grow there anyway and he just got in on the demonic gentrification scheme at the right moment. he literally has an unspeakably tormented and tortured past.

he has mommy issues. he has daddy issues. he has brother issues. he has son issues. he's a weeaboo. he loves poetry. he hates you, both generally and specifically. he has the hauteur and arrogance of christian fifty shades. underneath it all he just wants desperately to be loved and protected. his idea of bonding is a no-holes-barred beatdown.

he has an extremely weird obsession with his brother, whom he hates, but loves, but hates, but loves, but hates, but wants to spend forever with, but hates, but would kill anyone if they tried to hurt him. literally every bad thing he's ever done originally stemmed from the need to be strong enough to protect what he cares about (DANTE) because he can't go through losing his family again.

i love him <3