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thekisforkeats · 3 years

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Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned.

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #archives gang #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #ableism tw #jmart #canon tma fic

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ill-go-with-that-then · 5 years

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A NEW ERASERMIC AU I'LL NEVER WRITE!

Imagine Aizawa works at Buzzfeed, and gets the idea to write an article about how Twitch streaming is stupid and pointless (because he’s a video game snob.) He chooses Present Mic’s channel to watch at random, because he’s super popular, but Aizawa immediately goes from undercover reporter to absolute fan. No middle ground. Just “huh, okay i was wrong” and subscribes.

He tunes in to all the live streams, because Mic is very funny and also very good at video games, and it’s cool to watch him play. He has skills, his commentary is A+, and Aizawa develops a little crush. But it’s not a big deal!! Mic is a celeb, Aizawa knows they’ll never meet, it’s harmless.

Sometimes the chat for the stream gets assholes in it, as you’d expect. Mic can’t monitor the chat too much, but Aizawa has no problems telling jerks where to stick it. And once, after a particularly egregious incident where some moron said something crude about women in gaming and Aizawa ripped him a new asshole, Mic sends him a personal message thanking him and asking him if he wants to be a mod, which of course, he does. He doesn’t know how to reply - this is his big chance to talk to Mic!! So of course he just says “sure” - no further conversation.

Aizawa has, of course, zero personal details on his Twitch account. No info, no icon, his screen name is a random string of numbers, he’s a ghost. The Ron Swanson of video game enthusiasts.

So Aizawa is working at Buzzfeed, living his best life writing articles like “10 Video Game Themed Products You Can’t Live Without” because journalism is in shambles and he drinks to forget, and one day his editor is like “hey, we’re gonna do a feature on Twitch streamers. Everybody is gonna go sit and watch a stream in person and get the behind the scenes info. Here’s a list of people who agreed.” And PRESENT MIC IS ON THE LIST

One of his colleagues reaches for Mic’s info sheet, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I can’t believe these are considered celebrities. Have you ever heard of any of them?”

Aizawa practically slaps the paper out of his hand. “Present Mic is a consummate professional and his content is high-quality and entertaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand it since it involves technology more current than a compact disc.”

The room goes silent. Nobody’s heard Aizawa say anything nice about... maybe anything? Ever? But his editor, Kayama, pounces immediately. “WELL if you like him so much, Aizawa, that can be your interview!!”

Aizawa panics. On the one hand, he wasn’t going to let anyone else take that assignment. But on the other hand, now he’s going to meet Mic IN PERSON. During a LIVE STREAM. Is he supposed to tell him he’s a fan? Is that tacky? Will his crush be obvious? What if Mic sucks in person?? This is a double edged sword.

He only gets more nervous on the day of the interview. He’s tempted to dress up a little, look his best. Mic is a good-looking guy after all, and he’s always well put together when he streams. And even though Aizawa knows, knows he really doesn’t have a chance, he still doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

BUT he also doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard. That’s not who he is, and dressing up would be admitting to himself that he DOES want something more than a simple interview, even if it’s as little as Mic’s good opinion or positive attention.

He debates too long. While he’s still thinking about it, the alarm on his phone goes off, alerting him that it’s time to leave. He’s still in his pink sweatpants and he hasn’t shaved, and he realizes, just at that moment, that he probably should have tried harder at least for the sake of professionalism. But it’s too late. He has to go.

Mic actually doesn’t live all that far away. Just a short train ride, less than 20 minutes, and Aizawa is standing in front of his nondescript apartment. It’s a little odd - Mic is a very popular streamer, theoretically with income to match, and his style seems flashy. Aizawa had expected something a little more over the top. But this place is simple. Storing that information away for later, he knocks.

“COMING!!” He hears from inside the apartment, followed by the thud of footsteps. Aizawa just has one moment to brace himself because this is it before the door opens and there he is. Present Mic himself, all smiles. “Come in, come in!! You’re from buzzfeed right? Wow, this is so exciting!!” Mic ushers him in the door, taking his jacket and hustling him into a tidy living room before Aizawa can even respond. And of course, when he finally gets himself together enough to say something, the first words out of his mouth are “You’re... tall.”

He wants to smack himself. Yes, Mic is taller than Aizawa had realized from the stream, even a little taller than Aizawa himself. But those are thinking words, not speaking words. Certainly not the first words you use to introduce yourself to your celebrity crush. But Aizawa, a champion moment-ruiner, has made his bed, and now he must cry in it.

But Mic just laughs. “Yeah,” he says, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “I get that a lot. Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize,” Aizawa says immediately, then wonders if he is, in fact, under some sort of curse. “Shouta Aizawa,” he introduces himself.

“Hizashi Yamada, also known as Present Mic!” Yamada’s smile is friendly, like Aizawa hasn’t made an absolute fool of himself so far, and Aizawa has to look away from it. He glances around the room, which is tidy and clean, but cluttered with various objects that seem to have no connection to each other. There are books in a variety of languages, musical instruments, shelves of CDs, and an assortment of other things that have nothing to do with video games.

“Quite a collection you have,” Aizawa says, because it is, and because he’s curious.

“Yeah! I have too many hobbies but what can you do? Come on, I’m sure you’d rather see my workspace.” It’s not true, Aizawa has seen the office where Yamada streams before, and he’d much rather stay here and poke around, build up his mental picture about who Yamada is outside his Present Mic persona. But he’s not here for that. This is business.

But the streaming room is also not what Aizawa expects. Some things are familiar - the area visible to the camera is the same, set up and ready for tonight’s stream, but the rest of the room, the part that isn’t on screen, is PACKED. There’s a wobbly desk in the corner, covered in neatly stacked papers and binders labeled by month and year. The wall over the desk is a massive whiteboard filled with notes and ideas for upcoming streams. And there, in the lower right corner of the whiteboard, right where it would be even with Hizashi’s eyes as he sits at his desk, is a familiar string of numbers - his own Twitch username. And next to it is a little note - don’t forget. Good dude.

Aizawa sees his username and just - freezes. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mic thought of him at all outside of that one occasion he DM’d him, let alone that he considered Aizawa important enough not to forget. And the idea that Mic thinks he’s a “good dude” makes his face BURN in pleased embarrassment. He wants to say something but what? Is it weird? It’s weird, it’s too weird, and before he can think of how to do it, Mic is talking again.

“Okay, this is where the magic happens!! Actually, it’s more like weeks of frustration and repetition followed by 3-4 hours of intensely stressful streaming, but hey! People seem to like it!!” Aizawa wants to say something here - Mic is being a little too self-deprecating for his taste, but he stops himself. He can’t defend Mic’s honor to Mic himself - can he? The moment passes while he debates.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be on camera or not?” Mic says, tentatively.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” says Aizawa. “I’m more the behind the scenes type.”

“Totally, no problem!” Mic says, gesturing to his desk. “You can sit there, if that’s okay? The only other seat is by me.”

Aizawa looks at the chair, then back to the small couch where Mic will be streaming from. “I think I’ll have to be closer to get photos for the article, if that’s all right.”

“You’ll be on camera,” Mic bites his lip. “I mean, maybe i could re-angle it, but then the screen-“

“It’s fine,” Aizawa says. “Journalism is about hardship.”

Mic snorts, and Aizawa can’t keep a little smirk off his face, proud that he got a laugh.

The stream goes smoothly - Aizawa likes it even more like this, without the chat to distract him, and close enough to notice things he’s never seen before. Mic’s feet twitch when he’s focusing hard, and his socks have cats on them. It’s adorable. Aizawa takes no notes - he doesn’t really need to, he’s seen enough streams to write this article in his sleep, and anyway, it’s not like he’s going to forget a minute of this.

Afterwards, once they’ve signed off, Mic talks him through his post show routine, everything from calculating how much he made and comparing it to previous weeks in a spreadsheet to going over the chat. “Huh,” Mic’s eyebrows crease as he looks at the chat logs. “Things got a little out of hand tonight.”

“Oh?” Aizawa says, shuffling uncomfortably. He suspects he knows why that is.

“Yeah, one of my regular mods wasn’t on tonight. I hope he’s all right - it’s not like him to miss.”

“You have a lot of viewers,” Aizawa says, tentative now. “Do you know them all so well?”

Mic shrugs, embarrassed. “No, i wish I did! But this guy’s special, he’s really funny and he keeps all the trolls in line. I’d DM him to see if he’s okay but that’s weird, right? That’s weird. And anyway I tried to talk to him once before but he shot me down.”

“I didn’t-“ Aizawa says before he can stop himself. The curse is real. Mic stares at him, open mouthed, confused at first but then his eyes widen as he realizes what must have happened. Before he can say anything, Aizawa cuts him off. “Sorry. That i couldn’t mod tonight.” He mumbles, hand buried in his hair. He can’t meet Mic’s eyes anymore. “I’ll be back next week.”

Mic opens his mouth to speak, but Aizawa interrupts again, before he can. “And I didn’t - I didn’t shoot you down. I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. Why would you?”

Mic blinks, and Aizawa isn’t sure what he’s going to say. Will he be mad? Aizawa kind of lied to him. Is he disappointed? Does Aizawa not look like he expected? Has he been too silent? Too unfriendly? Does Mic not want to get to know him anymore? But when Mic finally speaks, what comes out is

“I can’t believe you made me memorize that stupid fucking username, we’re picking you a new one right now.”

#erasermic #maizawa #my writing #my ramblings #I have no explanation for anything I do ever

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nooneactuallyasked · 4 years

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Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 6

Requested: It’s a series, there are no requests here!

Word count: 942

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: Are you excited? I’m excited. I just wanna take this moment to thank you all for the support, it genuinely means the world. I worried for so long about putting my ideas out there and it means the world that people actually like them. So, if you’re reading this and have a story in your drafts or an idea tucked away inside your mind, share it. I’m sure it will be amazing! Anyway, this part is shorter because I have exams this week, there will be a 6.5 part soon! Enjoy!

Part 1 here Part 2 here

Part 3 here Part 4 here

Part 5 here

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Y/N sped along the sidewalk, desperately clutching a stack of papers, binders and folder to her chest. One purple folder sat on top, empty. Her head was cocked to one side, holding her phone in place as she chatted with Cal about the lineup. They’d found another band that had pestered Cal until he agreed and a couple of solo or duet acts.

Who knew basically managing a bunch of different people every week before saying goodbye on Friday evening would be so stressful? Y/N. Y/N did. She tried to keep track of groups through nicknames, each uniquely for that act. For example, the group that had pestered Cal were dubbed the Highlighters. Hummus was the guy who had 4 tubs of hummus a day, pretty self-explanatory. And the group she was now practically sprinting to meet on time was christened Julie and the Himbos. Of course, she had nicknames for the individuals in each group but as a whole, they had their names. The nicknames for Julie’s group were Firecracker, Lover Boy, Boomer and Leather Boy. She put thought into each nickname otherwise they might as well be non-existent, Julie was Firecracker because she had the spark and lit up the room like a firecracker, Lover Boy was obviously whipped for Julie, Alex reminded her of her favourite RowdyRuff boy and also he played the drums (Boom Boom) and Leather Boy just fit perfectly.

Y/N leant against the wall, quickly trying to catch her breath from the sprint over. She had arrived and wanted to at least look a little more professional than a girl being late and playing dress-up. She may be young but Y/N was worth taking seriously, at least when she was working she was. She straightened up and tried to help the pile of folders and paper regain a balanced form. Walking to the front door.

Y/N realised the dilemma she faced, how to knock on the door, or ring the doorbell. Blowing a piece of hair out her face, she decided that since banging her head on the door wasn’t particularly an option that kicking it lightly with her foot would suffice. A few ‘knocks’ later and a kicks later a kid Y/N didn’t recognise appeared in the doorway, “You must be the waitress lady Julie was waiting for, her band get everyone in high spirits.” He winks, laughing at his pun, “I’m Carlos, I’m somewhat of a ghost hunter around these parts.” Y/N smiled awkwardly, “Uh, okay. Would you mind showing me the way to where she is?” Carlos stepped out, closing the door behind him and walked to the gate, Y/N trailing behind him trying to keep her stack balanced. “Just through here, they’re in the garage.” She smiled, “Thanks, little man, I appreciate it. See you when I see you.” Y/N walked over to the garage door, once again faced with her favourite dilemma.

She ‘knocked’ again, a hurried “Coming!” and loud shuffling came from within before the door flew right open revealing a frazzled Julie.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Firecracker. Can I come in?”

“Firecracker? You know what I don’t need to know, and, uh, sure.”

“Thanks.” Y/N walked inside and stood awkwardly by the sofa. “That’s a lot of folders, do you like art?” She turned to see Reggie looking over her shoulder. “Oh, no, this is just all the info we have on all of the acts for Friday. The folder for you guys is the purple one on top. Julie, where can I put these, my arms are killing me.”

“Oh, over there.” Julie pointed to a coffee table settled comfortably next to the sofa, “Thanks, firecracker.”

“Fire- huh?”

“Do we all get nicknames? ‘Cause I’m feeling a little left out.”

“Stop talking, it’s serious band time.”

“Okay…so, anyway, have you decided what song you’ll be doing? Or will you be sticking with the song you demo’d for us?” The bandmates looked at each other, silently communicating, “We’ve decided that we want to do Stand Tall, it’s a song that showcases everyone’s talent. We figured if we were going to try and get a manager and with you helping us without getting anything in return then we should go all out.” Julie explained, a smile growing on her face as she positioned herself behind her keyboard.

“We played this at the Orpheum not too long ago so we thought-“ “-more like I thought and then told you.” “-Right, Julie thought that this song could be our good luck charm and anthem-“ “-Plus, it’s partly written by my mom so it makes it even more special.” “-Exactly, so yeah.” Julie and Luke smiled at each other, their finishing each other’s sentences and adding details was adorably sickening.

Y/N sat there slightly shocked, “You performed at the Orpheum? And you still wanna perform at our little diner?” Julie rolled her eyes and stared at her with an eyebrow raised, “Your so-called ‘little diner’ is legendary and on Friday’s it’s literally the best place on Earth to find your way into a real music career!”

“Aw, you read up on us? I feel so loved. Anyway, I need to hear it and write notes on it so Cal can give you pointers, is it alright if you video it too?”

“Sure thing, it’ll help us in the long run anyway.”

Y/N smiled, sitting down on the sofa, the purple folder nestled in her lap with paper resting atop where she would write her notes. Julie placed her phone on the coffee table, propped up against a vase of flowers. Y/N leant forward, as Julie went back to her position, and hit record.

---

Taglist:

@hereforthejatp @slutforjjmaybank

@morganayennefertyrell @dxestars

@dcnerd98 @ultraworthlessbitch

@revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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The Legion of Super Heroes Reviews: The Legion of Substitute Heroes or Unsung Heroes

Happy 29th Birthday to Me! Yes it’s my birthday which means it’s time for reflection, griping about getting older and cake. And after an exausting weekend of grappling with a growth, i’m not going to go into anymore detail, I can finally, relax celebrate and get back to reviewing. And since i’ts my big day, that means I decided to dedicate today’s reviews to things that mean a hell of a lot to me and in one way or another shaped me as a person. A self indulgant way to reflect on my past, look to the future and show y’all some stuff I really like. So with that out of the way let’s talk about the Legion of Super Heroes.. and their oddball sub team I love dearly.

This is also my first chance to talk about DC Comics on my blog. I’m honestly shocked that in the year i’ve been reviewing stuff regularly, the other half of the big two superhero comic publishers hasn’t come up. While I do tend to lean towards marvel, in part because Marvel is simply better at collecting their stuff and putting it on sale more often, it’s still the home of some of my faviorite properties: Justice League International, The Green Lanterns (Minus Hal), Teen Titans, Wonder Woman, Oracle, Batgirl (All of them, particularly Steph and Cass), Young Justice, Supergirl, my personal boy The Martian Manhunter.. the list dosen’t go on by much but it indeed goes on. I”ve been reading dc comics since I was in middle school, and I haven’t stopped since and don’t intend to stop now and maybe in the next year I can get around to tackling some of their awesome cartoons and comics more eh? But yeah among these titans, including the actual titans, are the Legion, one of the most unique and awesome super team concepts in my humble opinon and , even for DC, one of the teams with the most tangled up histories.

First created in the Silver Age by writer Otto Binder and Artist Al Plastino, The Legion of Superheroes is DC”s first successful teen superhero team, predating the titans by a few years, though I dearly love both wildly diffrent teams. The Legion is defined by their high concept: A thousand years into the future, three super teens from diffrent worlds who happened to be on the same ship with billionare RJ Brande, saved Brande from some goons hired by his crooked buisness partner.

And exposed him. Inspirired by their courage, heart and skill, Brande latter called the three together to form them into a super team, one inspiried by the legends of teen hero Superboy.

No not Conner though it was nice to get to show off my poster of him. While he was part of the second continuities legion, we’ll get to that, he’s not the superboy we’re looking for. He is damn great though and it’s good to have you back bud.

Not Jon either, though I do miss this kid’s pre-bendis version and he was the inspiration.. for another version of the legion. (SIGH). Try. AGAIN IMAGE SEARCH.

......

No not the cool bad boy turned troubled good boy, not the child who was inexpciably aged up by that bald smeghead, and not the great idea turned into a editiorial mouthpiece. I”m talking about THIS superboy.

This is where the name came from: From the silver age till crisis on infinite earths, Clark Kent was active as a kid in smallville, and thus was Superboy, superman when he was a boy. He dealt with similar stories just with Lana replacing Lois, and Luthor as a ginger teenager. And it was these deeds as a teen hero on his own, one of the first honestly, that inspiried the legion and brande and forged the team.

And it was naturally a super boy story where they were first introduced as the legion’s founders went back to recruit Superboy after putting him through some trials, and were intended as just one of many silver age one off concepts.. but caught on with the readers so much they were brought back, and had their ranks expanded and eventually not only added supergirl, yes the one your thinking of this time, to their ranks, and yes sometimes she and superboy were in the same place at the same time, Clark willingly had founding member and telepath Saturn Girl put a mental block in his head for any info he’s not supposed to know yet so it’s cool . But yeah not only that but they eventually became their own feature in Adventure Comics, where Superboy’s stories were published, but overtook him in popularity with time. Over time a number of distinct aspects were established: The roster eventually got as large as 20 plus legionarres, almost all from diffrent worlds, and they eventually set up bilaws. Some are silly and dated such as “Legionarres marrying means they retire” which was eventually done away with in the 70′s, but others were simple logic: each member must have a unique power, no using weapons and such which rather than be super power snobbery is so said tech dosen’t fail and the legion later fully allowed Karate Kid, a martial artist, to join, no killing.. just common sense stuff that adds to it. And one of those is the centerpiece to today’s story, which we’ll get to in a moment. Obviously given they’ve been around since 1958, there is a LOT more to the Legion’s history I will dig into at a later date: The short version is that Crisis on Infinite Earths, Dc’s first big reboot, fucked the team up badly by retconning superboy out of existance and dc editorial made it worse by shooting down EVERY solution the team came up with to fix the issue. So eventually things got so messy they nuked the whole thing during the event Zero Hour and rebooted fresh with Mark Waid taking the helm and updating the concept for the 90′s and being a more lighthearted, if still not without weight, comic in the sea of 90′s edge. Waid would reboot the team again due to sagging sales, a far weaker reason this time, with a more rebllion slant, the original team would be reinstated, and then ended for a while before recently being rebooted by Brian Micheal Bendis... who sadly is long past his creative prime from books like Ultimate Spider-man and alias and is instead stewing in his own toilet dinner these days and thus it’s not pretty.. well okay art wise i’ts VERY pretty, it’s just story wise it sucks dirty ass in thunder storms. There was also an awesome cartoon that sadly lasted only two seasons that I will DEFINTELY be digging into, especially since unlike x-men evolution, it’s not you know 50 some episodes and me biting off way more than I can chew but a slim 26 that still has fans to this day. I”ll get into ALL OF THIS, some ohter time hopefullly and I mostly outlined it since some of you might be familiar with another version or “Sigh” the reboot and this helps clear things up. So yeah with all that out of the way we’re going back to the silver age and the first story I ever read of hte team, how I met them with “The Legion of Substitute Heroes” and a later subs story I genuinely love. I first read this story in one dc’s old expensive archives collections I got from the library. Oh how I miss the library. Your probably wondering who the legion of susbstite heroes are.. but since the first story covers that we can jump right in after the break!

So we open with a teen in a parka uniform disembarking from a spaceship from another planet, which a passerby notes is just like the airplanes people used to ride from country to country.

But we meet our hero, Polar Boy, whose in a winter themed outfit and has come to try out. This is the tradition I was saving for now: The Legion Tryouts. Like a club or sports team would, but I like it because it makes sense: The Legion NEEDS to be as big as it is because while their headquartered on earth, their mission scope is anywhere in the united planets which spans GALAXIES. They could be called on any time and need their full force or need to have severa l members on a smaller mission and frequently having members away on a mission was cleverly used to reduce the cast to whoever was needed for the story.

So it only makes sense to frequently look for new membbers to help strengthen their ranks... but given their teens and are recurting teens they need to be careful and need a logical way to reduce crowd flow. I mean you saw how many people used to line up for american idol before that died a justified death, people will do anything to be famous and they need to weed out those whose powers and skill just aren’t up to snuff yet, or those who are just dicks as, unsuprisingly, several stories have been built on assholes who applied and were rejected turning evil and attacking.. even though the Legion wasn’t even paticuarlly harsh. They also are more than fair as applicants CAN try again or if they prove themselves in other ways can be let in, as Bouncing Boy, my favoirite legionarre, was intially rejected for his power of .. well...

Yeah.. on paper inflating like a ball and bouncing around is kind of silly. In practice he can ricochet off enemies, walls, and obstacles and is fairly durable in that state. It’s why I don’t really brook mocking the guys power: yes it’s goofy.. but say that again when he hands you his ass. It’s the same with matter eater lad who yes is an actual character: While being able to eat anything is gloriously goofy.. it means he can chew through ANY substance and digest ANYTHING. Hell in the cartoon episode intorducing the subs they used both of these guys to great efffect: Bouncing Boy, who in the cartoon had to try out multiple times in his backstory, encouraged the future subs while Matter Eater Lad got in by EATING A FUCKING BOMB. He also had shades which I dind’t know he was missing but now I do. My point is the process is fair and well thought out and leads to some really fun scenes.

But yeah joining the legion is naturally Polar Boy’s dream, as he walks down the avenue of heroes, basically a series of statues honoring the legion and hopes all his hard work paid off. We then cut to the auditions, where he apparently waited all night. What I like about this story is that unusually for the silver age legion where it was mostly a sea of powers attached to a bunch of cardboard, really the dc silver age in a nutshell and why marvel broke out so much for having more dynamic and realistic characters, Polar Boy has more of a personality. It’s not MUCH but he’s a dedicated, hard working kid who just wants to join his heroes and seems really in awe of htem, a feeling we can all relate to. We’ve all had people we’ve looked up to, admired, and we’ve all had groups we wanted to join as kids, teens or what have you. And of course.. we all know what it’s like to be rejected by someone or something you badly wanted to be a part of. And that’s what happens to poor polar boy, who comes from a world with an intense sun thus his people developed super cold powers.. but he can’t control them well so while their impressive, they also freeze the legion. HIs powers are good... but due to their strength and radius he’s also a liablility. They give him an consolation anti-gravity belt.. they had these before eventually compressing them into the much cooler flight rings.. which I still desperatly want one of. I have the flash’s costume ring and a green lantern corps ring, but still no legion ring.

Naturally this devistates the poor boy and he wonders around dispondent till nightfall, convinced he’ll never be one of them. He soon meets Night Girl, a fellow reject with super strength given to her by her dad’s formula.. but only in darkness as she’s from a world without sunlight. She also faces a “hopeless future” but it’s then Polar Boy’s true strength reveals itself: he decides screw giving up on their dream and if they can’t be in the legion they’ll start their own Legion.

Though not to compete but to serve as a subtistute, in case the legion is ever incapacitated. So Night Girl gathers the other rejects the next morning. Cleverly one of them, Chlorophyll Kid was seen with Night Girl herslef at the tryouts behind Polar Boy. We soon learn about them and each of their origins: Stone Boy can turn himself into an immobile stone statue, as his world has half a year long nights and thus his people hybernate, Fire Lad who can spit hot fire literally and set anything combustable on fire and Chlorphyll Kid who can make plants grow rapidly. Each were rejected for resonable powers: Stone Boys powers too static, Fire Lad’s is too dangerous and Chorlpyl Kids toos pecific. But upon seeing all of this Polar Boy says they STILL have fantastic powers and still can help people and the legion.

Thus the Legion of Substittue Heroes is born. And I love them as much as the originals. As a bit of a misfit myself I relate to these guys: They have strange specific powers, got rejected by the big team.. while that trope is nothing new at the time it was unique and even now it’s a nice and inspiring message. Instead of giving up they form their OWN team to do what htey can anyway. They might not be the best like the legion but they can still help and still do what’s right even if not on their scale. It’s a great concept and really makes them endearing. Again I have a thing for the underdogs but I still really like these guys. It’s why it annoys me they got kind of spat on with time: While I love Keith Giffen and Paul Levitz run on the legion, and feel it’s the best of that contnuinty it’s not without fault and the two basically spent a full issue mocking the team and split polar boy off from them before making their own subs with only ONE of the originals. It just felt.. disrspectful. And so far no continuity has used them again until the recent bendis run, which has them announced for the Future Slate special. It took BENDIS, who dosen’t get how to use the team properly and is up his own ass, to bring them back in a new continuity and I find that obnoxious. The subs are a great concept and deserve to be honored as such and as such are one of my favorite superhero teams.

But their careers don’t start well as they doubt themslves, except for Polar Boy who boisters them along, and constnatly just end up going to missions the legion already has covered and when the legion go to fight some robot ships, they refuse the subs help.. which is fair though, as Brainy puts it they can’t risk putting untrained volunteers in harms way. Their about to just quit, in a really sad moment.. when CK, because I can’t spell cholophill and hate having to use spell check notices some odd seeds spread about.. and when he grows one a horrifying tree man shows up. They struggle with it till the setting son finishes it’s job, meaning Night Girl is at full power and whollops it and the subs spend the night destroying the seeds. They find out the next day the seeds came from the same planet as the robot ships, meaning the ships are a distraction for whoevers doing this and since they can’t just call earth, as the full force of the legion is needed with the robots and all it’d do is cause a panic, it’s down to them. Night Girl however is scared.. and I like that. It shows that while their regaining their confidence.. it’s sitll risky. Their a bunch of barely trained fanboys, and girl, going up against an alien invasion, with it down to them. They CAN save the world but it’s alright to be entirely terrified when your thrust into it this fast.

They make their way to the planet, having built a ship earlier and lie low, finding out what’s going on: The plant men are fully intellegent, and grow themselves..though how they know to attack and go to the bathrom and what not out of the seed I don’t know but I assume it’s a genetic thing or they might be some form of hive mind. point is the seed plan is to grow troops all over the world via rockets for an invasion, and it’s a brilliant concept for one too. Aliens who simply GROW the troops right into battle, born with the knowledge to do so, and right where they can ambush them. It’s down to our heroes and Stone Boy, whose been the most pesemistic, valiantly dives in to provide a distraction so they can destroy the factory and the seeds. Turns out he is useful as the most the treeple have is a space lead pipe.. yes really. I love the silver age. But they’ll bring ray guns soon, so Stone BOy knows it’s a suicide mission and now our heroes have a timer. But luckily.. our heroes are stronger than they think. Night Girl punches a way in till Night passes, while Polar Boy and Flame Lad use their powers in concert to make an opneing.. but with time running out Polar Boy finishes things by having CK grow all the seeds now they have acess.. thus exploding the planets population, destroying several cities from the number of bodies, and thu discourguing the treeple from trying again. Stone boy is able to flee with the rest of our heroes and the day is saved.

The heroes opt not to tell the public, as to take away glory for the Legion. It’s a noble gesture.. they do DESERVE credit, but they choose not to take it, preferring to let the legion get theres for stil lsaving the world from the robots. They stand firm, now confident they may someday make it to the big leagues.And it’s this that really makes me love them: Thier not the strongest or best, but they try anyway for the reasons a hero should: to help people, and not for the glory. THey remain unsung heroes and are fine with that. Eventually the Legion WOULD find out about them, but naturally instead of being dickheads about it, fully accepted them, even offering them some contests for membership, but that’s a story for another day. THey’d remain stalwart allies and valuable backup in crisis situations for years to come until the bollocks outlined above. But they’d never leave my heart and thanks to them.. the legion never left either.

Final Thoughts: While I do love the story for it’s personal signifigance to me, It’s stilll a really good story for the time. A bit stilted as was the style, but still good, well paced and with an endaring cast of underdogs who prove themselves in the end. It’s something diffrent from the usual clean cut ahead in life wasps these stories usually followed at the time. While the team’s still all white and all that, their outcasts and misfits who just want to help and have trouble beliving in themselves. Their a good standard to live up to.. and a good inspiration for me and my constnatly self hating self doutbing self. And I hope you enjoyed htem too. If you’d like to comission your own review, just dm me. It’s 5 bucks for individual issues. Later days.

#the legion of super heroes #the legion of substitute heroes #polar boy #fire lad #night girl #chorophyil kid #stone boy #silver age #comics #comics reviews #birthday

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer), Chapter 1 (Branjie, Jankie) - Joley

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“Okay, are you ready?” Brooke Lynn slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and looked over as her wife came out of the bedroom with her belongings.

Vanessa took a deep breath, pressing her lips into a fine line and offering a nod. “As I’ll ever be,” she replied as the two of them left their apartment. While the commute was longer than when they were shacked up in Brooke’s off-campus apartment, it was manageable enough for them to keep making that journey.

Besides, when they made their way into the performing arts building, it just felt right. That was where it all began, and in a way, it had become a home away from home, many of their coworkers had become a second family for them.

Then there was Katya, who had crossed the line between second and first families long ago. She was part of their wedding party, she pet-sat while they were on their honeymoon. Vanessa would often describe her as a ‘kooky aunt,’ and Brooke conceded that the title was rather on the nose. She beamed brightly as she ran up to the couple. “Good morning ladies, I’m here to pick up my TA,” and in a literal move, she picked up Vanessa, who let out a surprised yelp and a laugh.

“And yet there’s still no one I’d trust more with her.” Brooke chuckled as if she were truly questioning her faith in Katya’s mentorship. She leaned over and kissed her wife’s forehead. “I expect both of you to behave.”

“I’m gonna need you to lower your expectations, Professor Hytes-Mateo,” Katya replied as she set her new teacher’s assistant back down. “Your girl’s on the way?”

“She is. Offered to go on a coffee run, so she’ll be here soon enough,” she confirmed. In the interim, the three of them went to Brooke’s new classroom. This semester, she would be teaching the History of Dance course, one that was required for second-year students. Her options had been either that or Improvisation, which had made the decision easy on her.

Only a few minutes had passed before they heard footsteps coming down the hall until a woman came in, holding a drink tray that she then sat down on Brooke’s desk. “Morning, everyone,” Jackie greeted, taking her own drink from the holder and sipping from it.

“Hey, Jackie,” Brooke smiled warmly, trying to hold her focus just long enough to slide Vanessa a couple of bills to slip into Jackie’s pocket. It was a system the two of them had stuck with to avoid the back and forth courtesy refusals and ‘but I insists.’ Brooke would affectionately refer to it as ‘reverse pickpocketing’ while Vanessa simply called it ‘efficient.’

Katya looked at her phone, then cleared her throat to redirect attention. “We’ll have to reconvene later, ladies. Vanjie and I need to get set up in the studio,” she said, picking her binder back up and tucking it under her arm.

“Catch you later, boo. Good luck,” Vanessa smiled and shared a quick kiss with Brooke before following Katya out the door.

Jackie watched them leave before looking back towards the professor. “It must be nice being able to work in the same building as your wife, huh?” she mused as she set her backpack on the side of the desk and took out a small stack of manila envelopes, all filled with varying amounts of papers.

Brooke grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as her eyes drifted to the framed picture she kept on her desk – one from their wedding just about a year earlier. “It really is, we lucked out.”

She nodded as she took her seat, believing the sentiment wholeheartedly. Something about the idea of finding someone and having the instant bond over a shared passion spoke to her and left her with a quiet sense of yearning. But her wandering mind had to reel back into focus when students began filing into the classroom and taking their seats. Everything was pleasantly calm as she watched seat after seat fill up.

Then suddenly, it all changed.

The energy in the room brightened, but no one seemed to notice but Jackie. The source of it, however, was as clear as day. It was a student with a warm, friendly disposition and soft features that Jackie just found beautiful. And she didn’t think she was staring until she felt someone poking her shoulder.

Brooke Lynn was looking at her, a smirk curling up her lips that made Jackie’s face heat up. She knew that look, could spot that look a mile away. Hell, she was probably the poster child for that look, she had to take a sip of her drink just to keep herself from laughing. Instead, she sat and sipped her drink until the flow of students came to a halt.

As Brooke began taking attendance, Jackie walked around, giving a copy of the syllabus to each student. But she looked up every time a feminine name was called, eager to put a name to the face that’d caught her eye.

“Jan Sport?”

“Here!”

Ah, she thought. There we go. It was enough momentary satisfaction to get her through the rest of the task, and hopefully enough to keep her focused for the rest of the class. The last thing she wanted was to drop the ball in the first ten minutes because a pretty girl clouded her sense of rational thought. She, for the most part, decided to keep her nose in the paperwork. There wasn’t too much she needed to say yet anyway.

“…And Jackie’s contact info is there, your best bet is to reach out to her first.”

Jackie looked up when she heard her name, offering a smile and a nod as Brooke Lynn continued talking. She did finally allow her gaze to drift back over to Jan, who had been alternating between listening attentively and whispering with the girl sitting next to her. But just as she looked over, they made eye contact, and Jackie’s heart skipped a beat.

Jan smiled at her, oblivious to all the thoughts running through the grad student’s mind. But she did welcome the attention – Jackie was attractive and held herself professionally – two traits she definitely appreciated. When the eye contact was broken, she shifted her attention to Brooke, until her friend tapped her desk to get her attention.

“Am I crazy, or was she checking you out?” Gigi whispered.

“I’m leaning towards both,” she retorted with a soft chuckle. She wasn’t actually sure if Jackie was checking her out – it might have been wishful thinking. But if Gigi saw it too, she could let herself think that maybe something was happening.

By the time class ended, everything seemed calm once more. Jan got up and she waved to Jackie as she walked past, one of those subtly flirtatious waves where each finger curls down one at a time. She wanted to linger a bit longer but decided to follow Gigi out.

When the class was back down to just Brooke Lynn and Jackie, there was a moment of silence while they both allowed themselves to process the first day of class. Then Brooke turned to Jackie with what could only adequately be described as a shit-eating grin.

Jackie sighed, realizing it wouldn’t end until she addressed it. “Okay, what?”

“Nothing, I just love watching history repeat itself,” Brooke hummed.

“I beg your pardon?”

Brooke looked to her wedding picture, then back at Jackie. “Do you know how Vanjie and I met? I know you didn’t have a lot of classes together, but still.”

She furrowed her brows. “I know you guys both got your undergrads here, and that you used to be Katya’s TA, but that’s about it,” she explained, having never been much for keeping up with gossip.

Getting the chance to retell her and Vanessa’s story made Brooke light up in a way that almost startled Jackie. “Let me set the scene for you.” She got up, standing in the empty space at the front of the classroom. “Picture me, an awkward, introverted grad student. It’s my first day as Katya’s teaching assistant. I’m there before her, before anyone, sitting on the floor and wondering, ‘what the hell is this semester gonna be like?’ Then in walks this spunky little brunette that ends up turning my whole world upside-down, yet somehow makes me feel truly alive for the very first time.” She sighed fondly. “And then I married her, the end.”

Jackie nodded as she listened, it was a nice story, and she did like that everything worked out in the end. But then she furrowed her brows. “So… You think I’m gonna marry Jan?”

Brooke chuckled. “I’m just saying… Well, you never know what could happen.”

“I think you might be a little bit biased,” she retorted as she gathered her things. “Look, she’s very pretty and seems sweet. I’ll give you that. But I’m certainly not setting a wedding date anytime soon.”

“If you change your mind, I have a friend that’s an ordained minister,” Brooke teased.

——

“Not to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but I think this could mean something. She’s Brooke Lynn’s TA, and everyone knows how that story went,” Gigi was saying, sounding very certain in her theory. Many students had a story where they knew someone that knew someone that saw everything that happened with Brooke Lynn and Vanessa. It wasn’t uncommon to be in on the legend.

Jan quirked her brow. “So, you think this is kismet? That when our eyes met we were bound by the fate set by our predecessors?”

“No, Shakespeare. I just think that you should pursue this.”

She huffed. “You know, just because you have a girlfriend doesn’t mean that you need to curate a story for my love life.”

Gigi shrugged. “I don’t have to do anything, but that’s not going to stop me. Jan, I haven’t seen you go on a single date since we met. If there’s a chance for you to actually connect with someone, I–”

“We haven’t even spoken!” Jan finally exclaimed. “You’re creating a narrative based off of eye contact, Geege. I think we need to center back into reality a little bit.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” She put her hands up in surrender. “I just need to throw myself into something, it’s hard being in a long-distance relationship, you know.”

Jan looked at her friend as if she’d grown a second head. “Long dis– sweetie, Crystal’s going to school upstate, and not even like, actual upstate, it’s literally just Westchester. You know you can drive up there whenever.”

Gigi let out a dramatic huff. “It’s not the same,” she whined, stomping her foot. But she switched back into her normal demeanor almost instantly, in a way that would’ve been jarring to someone that wasn’t her close friend. “I digress. Just keep an open mind, okay?”

“Whatever you say, you little weirdo,” she teased lightly as they left the building, having a couple of hours before their next class, Katya’s, of course. And Jan only hoped they got there before anyone else picked up on whatever it was Gigi had noticed.

——

“Okay, you’ve been staring at that corner for like, five minutes. It’s giving me The Blair Witch Project vibes. You good?” Katya asked curiously.

Vanessa blinked, seemingly snapped out of a trance. “Hm? Yeah, I’m good. Just kinda having a moment.” She looked down, grinning broadly to herself. “That spot right there was where I first met her. She was all wound up and tense, ready to kick your ass… Prettiest fucking thing I ever seen.”

“If you think about it,” Katya started, “none of this would’ve happened if I wasn’t late to class,” she mused. “So, you’re welcome. I expect you to name your first born after me as retribution.”

She chuckled, leaning against the desk. “You know, we been talking about having a baby or adopting… Got pros and cons to both.”

“Wow, that’s a big step. And I get it, on one hand, it makes sense to take in a kid that doesn’t have a family, but on the other, you guys have really good genetics.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Vanessa nodded. “But we ain’t rushing it or nothing,” she assured, looking up and watching as students filed into the studio. “It’s showtime,” she said to Katya before starting to pass out copies of the syllabus.

Everything was business as usual until about a half hour into class, when Jackie tried to inconspicuously let herself into the room. She tried to silently get Vanessa’s attention, but Vanessa and subtlety were just two things that would never mesh.

“What’s up, Jackie? C’mere!” Vanessa waved her over, leaving Jackie to awkwardly shuffle to the front.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, Brooke just asked me to drop off your lunch,” Jackie explained, handing her a paper bag. “Anyway, I’ll leave you guys to it.” As she started to leave, her eyes met with Jan’s yet again, but she was determined to play it cool this time. “Oh, hey Jan,” she hummed, lightly fluttering her lashes with a confident smile.

And Jan reacted just the way she’d hoped. She giggled and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Hey, Jackie,” she cooed, eyes following her out the door before trying to refocus.

“Very subtle. I’m clearly the crazy one here,” Gigi remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Eat me,” she retorted through gritted teeth, without breaking her cheery demeanor.

Gigi rolled her eyes. “Seems like other people might be trying to get that job instead.”

The bickering continued a bit longer, but they quieted down long enough to actually hear the tail end of Katya’s speech, which she finished by dismissing the class a little bit early. “Remember, you should have a list of five potential final project songs by the end of next week. Make sure you get them to Vanjie one way or another,” Katya was saying as the class began packing up and leaving.

“So how’d you feel about your first day of classes?” Katya asked once she and Vanessa were alone in the studio again.

“Think that went well; didn’t see anyone too much like me, so you’re gonna catch a break this time around,” she chuckled.

Katya laughed softly. “Oh Vanjie, you were a delight to teach. Mostly because I could pawn you off on Brooke every time, but still.” She looked up at the sound of footsteps. “And speak of the devil.”

Brooke rolled her eyes and grinned. “You speak so highly of yourself,” she replied, going right to Vanessa’s side and wrapping her arm around her waist and kissing the side of her head. “Everything went as anticipated?”

“All good, boo.” Vanessa hummed, leaning against her wife. “Thank you for lunch, by the way,” she added.

“Of course,” she cooed. “Oh, did you have Jan Sport in this class?”

Katya looked down at the attendance sheet. “Yeah, why?”

“Jackie went all heart-eyed for her, and I’m finding myself physically incapable of resisting the urge to play matchmaker. You should’ve seen it; Jan walked in the room and Jackie just couldn’t take her eyes off of her. It was really cute, like something out of a romcom,” Brooke explained.

Vanessa perked up, grabbing Brooke’s arm with both of her hands and started shaking her. “Are you kidding? We gotta match-make them! We’re throwing the torch!”

“You make it sound kind of violent, but yes,” Brooke chuckled. “What do you think, Katya? Should we give the matchmaking thing a try?”

Katya laughed. “What are you gonna do? Wait for a field trip and stick them in a room with one bed? I mean, it worked the first time.”

“We can’t build a curriculum around getting two people to fuck,” Brooke pointed out.

“Not with that attitude,” Vanessa chimed in.

——

“Geege, look!” Jan stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed her friend’s arm, reeling her back in. “They have a sign-up for winter musical auditions, and they’re doing Heathers!”

Gigi watched in amusement as Jan eagerly signed up. “I feel like this is your version of a wet dream.”

“I can live with that. You gonna sign up?”

She shook her head. “Not for me, I’d rather try to find out how I can get involved with costume design,” she told her, though she wasn’t entirely sure that Jan was listening, so she moved on. “Who are you going for?”

“My heart says Heather Chandler, but I feel like I could really kill it as Veronica.”

“You’d steal the show as a tree in the background, so I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ll definitely get a good role,” Gigi assured.

Just as Jan was about to reply, a newly familiar voice came up behind her. “You’re auditioning for the show?”

Jan turned around to see Jackie. “I am. Did you do any of them during your undergrad?”

Before Jackie could answer, Gigi suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I gotta go, Crystal’s calling me,” while waving her phone around, and was gone in a flash, leaving the other two without a chance to reply.

Jackie watched her leave for only a moment before answering Jan’s question. “Yeah, a couple. If you need any help auditioning or rehearsing or whatever, I can totally help.” Unlike any of the earlier incidents, she now seemed genuinely relaxed. There was a different energy when she was in her element, talking about the things she loved with someone that shared those interests.

And Jan was just happy that Gigi didn’t try to lock them in a closet or something like that. “That would be great. If you’re sure you’re not too busy, of course.”

“I can definitely make time for you,” Jackie chuckled softly, tucking her hair behind her ear and adjusting her glasses. She looked to the sign-up sheet, then back at Jan. “Auditions are on Friday, you wanna come over tomorrow?”

Jan nodded brightly. “Tomorrow’s perfect. I’ll text you so you have my number, and we can work out the details from there.”

“Perfect,” Jackie echoed, not referring to the time at all.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #jan sport #jackie cox #branjie #jankie #lesbian au #university au #college au #hold me tighter even closer #joley #s12

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missjanjie · 4 years

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Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) | (1/?)

Title: Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) Summary: A sequel to Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa are back at NYU, but with new and improved positions. Brooke's ready to start her career as a professor when, as fate would have it, she realizes her TA, Jackie, might have the hots for a student named Jan. The couple just might see it as a sign to give two new girls the love story they found in the same place. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox) Rating: T (so far)

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“Okay, are you ready?” Brooke Lynn slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and looked over as her wife came out of the bedroom with her belongings.

“I’m gonna need you to lower your expectations, Professor Hytes-Mateo,” Katya replied as she set her new teacher’s assistant back down. “Your girl’s on the way?”

“Catch you later, boo. Good luck,” Vanessa smiled and shared a quick kiss with Brooke before following Katya out the door.

Then suddenly, it all changed.

“Jan Sport?”

“Here!”

“...And Jackie’s contact info is there, your best bet is to reach out to her first.”

“Am I crazy, or was she checking you out?” Gigi whispered.

Jackie sighed, realizing it wouldn’t end until she addressed it. “Okay, what?”

“Nothing, I just love watching history repeat itself,” Brooke hummed.

“I beg your pardon?”

Brooke looked to her wedding picture, then back at Jackie. “Do you know how Vanjie and I met? I know you didn’t have a lot of classes together, but still.”

Jackie nodded as she listened, it was a nice story, and she did like that everything worked out in the end. But then she furrowed her brows. “So… You think I’m gonna marry Jan?”

Brooke chuckled. “I’m just saying… Well, you never know what could happen.”

“If you change your mind, I have a friend that’s an ordained minister,” Brooke teased.

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