#Bro's teeth are brighter than my future

[nannyan]

This is how I be feeling

[cheezritsu]

Haikyuu Couple Aesthetics

Daichi Sawamura: good luck charms, front row seats at his games, the mature couple; “mom and dad” of the friend group; saying “goodnight” to one another on your doorstep, sentimental captions on their instagram posts, eating dinner and talking about your day like you’re already married; making plans for the future with one another involved; impressing one another’s parents; the thrill of doing everything together; being each others emergency contact; sleeping so well because your love is reliable and stable. You two are the timeless high school sweethearts, making the unattainable look so easy.

Sugawara Koushi: cafe dates, doting words, “sweetheart” and “darling,” laughing just from looking at one another. The secretly chaotic couple, perfectly curated dates, being approved by all his friends, soft, sweet pecks; random flower bouquets on your doorstep; kissing away your tears; hugs warmer than fresh baked cookies, grading student papers over dinner, smiley face post-it notes in your bento boxes, farmers market dates, always, always knowing each other’s favorite things; thoughtful gifts, mistakenly being called “Sugawara-san” before you’re married, shy smiles, kissing his beauty mark, a relationship as easy as the breeze. You two are like bees and flowers, working in tandem to create something natural and sweet.    

Nishinoya Yuu: cutting class to hang out in the hallways, popsicles melting in the summer heat, tongues dyed red and blue from convenience store slushies, dinner dates with no leftovers, neon colored band-aids, learning to hop a fence, scuffed sneakers, bruised arms. The lawless couple, squad posing in couple pictures, matching dyed streaks, sneaking out past midnight, pulling pranks, sitting on the swingset in the middle of the night, counting the stars over head. Adoring stares, “I’m so proud of you!”, kissing his bruises, screaming out the window of your car on a road trip. Traveling the world together, video messages, blowing kisses to each other, saying “I missed you!” after one day apart. You two are twin stars, constantly orbiting each other and burning brighter, together.

Tanaka Ryuunoske: shaving his head, mini skirts, being Saeko’s favorite, troublesome trio antics, late night food runs, horror movie marathons, couple gym workouts. The unexpected couple; getting compliments from the eldery on how cute you two are, flipping off his teammates while you kiss in front of them, excessive worrying, scaring off any boys that look at your wrong, the “Will Smith gesturing to his Wife” meme; thinking you’re too good for this world, calling each other “bro” romantically, kissing him after winning games, placing a beanie over his head in the winter, taking unflattering photos of one another with the most sincere captions. You two are the moth and the flame, drawn together by an inexplicable pull. 

Tsukishima Kei: Wool overcoats, headphone splitters, dogeared textbook pages, study dates, strawberry desserts, “This song reminded me of you.” The better than you couple, wearing his t-shirt to sleep, borrowing each others sweaters, kissing his bruised fingers, hiding in his jackets, going to the same university, softly singing in long car rides, always slightly touching one another, quick, secret kisses, height difference jokes, moon-centric nicknames (“moonbeam,” or “moonshine”) trying on his glasses, mirror selfies,sharing record collections, concert dates; weekend dinners at Tsukishima’s childhood house, being adorded by his teammates, dinosaur themed gifts as a joke, Studio Ghibli movie marathons, listen parties as dates, opening up to one another, “quit staring at me” “but I love you;” him constantly smiling when you’re next to him and denying it ever happened. Sharing insults as a love language, being soft when the time comes, humming into his hair as you fall asleep together. You two are a sweet, slow ballad; a duet between lovers in perfect harmony. 

Akaashi Keiji: library dates, meet cutes, book recommendations, fancy dinner dates, proofreading each other’s work, cuffed trousers, trench coats, french perfume, dainty jewellery, knuckle kisses, the academic couple; good grades, pet names, longing glances, visiting each other’s jobs, sharing clothing, reading books over his shoulders, cocooning in linen blankets, the scent of fresh laundry and lavender, running your hand through one another’s hair, smoothing wrinkles out of his works shirts, working around each other in the bathroom in the morning; matching schedules, museum dates, “you’re the Romeo to my Juliet.” “please don’t die for me.” Literature references, letting Bokuto third wheel, being the smartest couple in the room, massaging one another’s shoulders after long days, words of affirmation, sitting on top of his desk, smiling as he edits another page; “are you coming to bed?” ‘quick, secret smiles. You two are matching portraits in a museum, your love equally as timeless and beautiful. 

Oikawa Tooru: alien bandaids, golden hour selfies, matching skin care routines, wrapping his bandages, phone calls to remind him of things, leaning his head on your shoulder, the king and queen couple; listening to each others insecurities, being his biggest cheerleader, holding your face like it’s the whole world, helping him learn spanish, constantly bragging about one another, stupid nicknames in each other’s phones,  “~Iwa-chan!~”, the Seijoh team rolling their eyes at your PDA, threats from Iwaizumi, making promises you intend to keep, being his rock, letting him cry if he needs to, petty rants, keeping nail files in your purse, knowing the real him, framed couple pictures, teasing him with the team; “I have faith in you;” being there when each other needs it. You two are beloved monarchs, ruling your domain hand in hand with benevolent smiles. 

Kuroo Tetsuro: matching leather jackets, red lipstick kisses, theater hopping, chemistry puns, trying (and failing) to get rid of his bed head, constantly handsy, late night drives, cram sessions, lipstick smudges on his neck, “I’m always this kind,” Yamamoto crying in the distance, “Kenma, love us!”, being double trouble, the power couple; better grades together, singing off key, ugly couple photos, sleeping on the train, awful, cackling laughter, adored by his grandparents, stroking your hair as you fall asleep curled onto a too small couch; making it work no matter what, your eyes shining with pride at all his games. Being on the same wavelength, adoring stares while brushing your teeth, kissing him by his tie, making out in the back of taxis, pulling him into a well needed hug without thinking, playing with your food, whispering ‘I love you’ into the crown of your head. You two are immortal lovers, reunited in this life, and all those after. 

Osamu Miya: late night diner runs, lazy mornings in, being business partners, staying up late drafting new menu items, slow dancing in the kitchen, all you can eat buffets, roses before every date, subtle pda; the domestic couple; matching outfits, holding hands with intertwined fingers, clutching your chests with heavy laughter from each other’s jokes, eating half each other’s plates on dinner dates; devouring ice cream by the tub while bingeing television shows, treating grocery store runs like dates, falling asleep to his heartbeat, comfortable silences, long talks while washing dishes, baking cookies at ungodly hours, hanging onto one another’s arms, sneaking away from parties to be alone, tracing patterns on one another’s skin, whispering “I love you” when the other isn’t listening, temple kisses, side hugs, growing into one another, cooking food as a love language, having immense pride for the one another. You two are best friends, falling in love with each other over and over again every day.

Atsumu Miya: neon colored lights reflecting off his hair, open mouthed kisses, toothy smirks, house parties, being one another’s arm candy, diamonds glinting under flashing lights, breathlessness, wandering hands, showering together, black lingerie, superfluous travelling, first class seating, poorly concealed hickies, clinking champagne glasses, “That’s my girl/boy!” wearing his track jacket, selfies in expensive hotels; the celebrity couple, “I don’t speak broke,” shiny engagement rings, paparazzi photos, explicit pictures, red sports cars, winks meant only for you, hands on your waist, matching manicures, tipsy kisses, flaunting cash, making out on kiss cams, holding ring covered hands, never being alone; cheesy romantic texts, only having eyes for one another. You two are wrapped around each other’s fingers tighter than a bandaid, and that’s how you like it. 

[maybankiara]

TELL ME, IS IT WORTH IT?

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pope Heyward

summary: Pope proposes, JJ panics, and now he’s trying to explain why he said no (and why he shouldn’t have done it.)

w/c: 3.7k

a/n: angst with a happy ending, ignore all the typos bc this is entirely unedited (i might edit in the future)

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

It’s really unfair that when someone’s life falls apart, the world itself doesn’t. JJ thinks it should. It should be raining knives, hailing bullets, volcanoes should be exploding and the ground shaking shouldn’t be just his personal experience of reality. 

But it’s not even a moderately hot day. It’s breezy, it’s perfect, and it’s one of the nicest days of the fucking whole year. 

JJ hates it. 

The Chateau has only got John B and Kiara under its roof when he barges in, teeth gripping on the cap of a beer bottle. ‘Don’t ask,’ he states, then drops in the empty space between the two on the couch. His legs find their home on the coffee table and he nearly downs the bottle. Burps. Sighs, dramatically. 

He knows they’re exchanging glances, but he chooses to ignore it. 

Kie’s consoling hand lands on his shoulder. ‘What ha—’

‘Pope asked me to marry him,’ he says, ‘and I said no. And I also said I think it’s never going to happen.’

John B should’ve made a dumb comment. Kie should’ve made a sarcastic remark. But they didn’t, and they won’t, because JJ feels the gravity of the situation weighting down his lungs. (It feels like being torn up inside out, like his heart is chewing on itself out of anger, or sadness, or betrayal. It feels like the moment when your heart skips a beat and you think this is it, this is how I die, except you don’t; except you’re stuck in that moment forever.)

JJ burps. It chips at the silence, but it doesn’t break it. Kie’s hand on his shoulder is frozen and the distance between him and John B seems like an ocean. 

‘Yeah,’ says JJ. ‘I don’t think that was what he expected.’

A sigh comes from Kie, but he doesn’t look. ‘When was this?’

‘About twenty minutes ago. I drove straight here.’

‘Drunk?’ asks John B. 

‘Does it matter? I’m here now. Safe and sound.’ He lets out a dry chuckle before he can stop himself, and shakes his head. ‘Physically, anyway.’

‘You’re not drunk,’ says Kie. It sounds a little like a scoff, so JJ looks at her, but he can’t figure out what her face is saying. Tight lips scream anger, but her eyes are soft as ever, maybe a little concerned. She glances between him and John B with one of her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘He’s a heartbroken idiot, but not drunk.’

‘Ah. Understandable. Should I—’

‘You know what being a heartbroken idiot means.’ Kie pushes herself off the couch and when JJ glances at his other friend, John B’s just as confused as he is. ‘I know a thing or two about getting your heart broken for a dumb reason. You two sort that out, and I’ll make sure Pope’s okay. Let me know when you’ve knocked some sense into him.’

Before either of the boys manage to comprehend her words, she’s out the door. The Kie-shaped void on JJ’s left side feels a little odd, so he pushes himself into that side of the couch. The beer is bitter at the back of his throat; he wishes some music would be playing. 

John B calls his name, so JJ looks at him. He’s giving him the puppy eyes, trying to get him to talk, and it’s because neither of them really know how to start. (Their affection is physical, not verbal. Kie’s the one who’s good at that. Pope is—)

‘Did you panic?’ asks John B. 

JJ shakes his head. ‘Don’t think so. Not until after I’ve said it, anyway.’

‘So what happened?’

There’s a pause, JJ feels his brow furrow, and then: ‘I don’t know.’

‘…you don’t know?’

‘No.’

‘So you panicked.’

‘No, I didn’t, it’s—’ With a sigh, JJ accepts the momentary defeat. He glances over and sees John B’s signature stare full of indecipherable intent, but nothing less than pure kindness. They’ve had their bumps, but they always came out on top. It’s the pogue way. Even if John B wears that stupid bandanna around his neck well into his married life of his late twenties. ‘I knew the answer was no.’

It’s John B’s turn to frown. ‘You’ve thought about it?’

‘No, I just knew. Like you know the ocean is salty.’

‘You know that because you’ve tasted it before,’ counters John B. ‘I doubt you’ve been proposed to before.’

‘I could’ve been!’ 

All John B offers is a long stare yet that is enough. He’s older by only a few months, but he’s also married and didn’t say no to the proposal (granted, it was him proposing to Sarah, but still) and kind of has got his life together. He’s still JJ’s dumb older brother, but he knows something JJ doesn’t. 

‘How did you know you wanted to marry Sarah?’ 

‘Are you reconsidering your answer?’

‘No, I just—’ JJ sighs again and tries to wish another bottle into appearing in his hand. Doesn’t work. Probably for the better. He just leans his head back on the couch and stares at the ceiling, connecting the dots in his mind. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to tell me how you knew.’

He hears shuffling, and then feels John B’s feet in his lap. (He’s not going to comment on the boat shoes. There’s been enough deflecting. He’s got to listen, because Pope is threatening to burst into the forefront of his mind any second now.)

John B gives out the deep, heavy sigh that only comes with a slight aah whenever he’s about to tell a story. ‘When we were young, she made everything come alive. Everything looked brighter and clearer, and it was like I could finally breathe with the entirety of my lungs.’

JJ closes his eyes, trying not to gag. ‘Bro. I’m not listening to that.’

‘But that’s how I knew!’ He could just hear the grouch in his friend’s voice and now he’s threading the fine line between laughing and gagging. ‘Seriously, JJ, you asked. I don’t— I don’t know what to say. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’

‘I am.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re deflecting.’

‘Big word.’

‘See?’ John B scrunches his nose, shaking his head. His thumb and index finger grip the bridge of his nose. ‘I know you’re confused. And scared. I know you panicked when Pope asked, but I don’t think you understand how horrible is the thing you’ve done.’

‘It’s not like I broke his heart,’ scoffs JJ, but the words are flat and his heart skips another beat. He doesn’t need to look at John B to knows he’s got his head in his hands. ‘C’mon, it’s Pope. He’s tougher than he looks.’

‘Yes, but he proposed, JJ. He asked to spend the rest of his life with you and you said no!’

‘I didn’t say no to that!’ JJ flings himself off the couch and now he’s pacing around the living room of the Chateau, marching circles around the coffee table. His forehead is pulsating; he’s probably having a heart attack. That’d explain a lot. ‘I said no to getting married.’

‘That’s the same thing.’

‘It isn’t.’

‘It is.’

‘It really isn’t, John B,’ he spits out. Christ, he’s getting hot. Is that his blood boiling? ‘Marriage is… It’s taxes. It’s prenups. It’s joint bank accounts, it’s added tension, it’s fucked up. Half of the marriages don’t even last.’

(Pope’s always talked about getting married. When gay marriage was legalised, before they were together, before they were out of the closet, even then he was openly delighted about it. He’s been talking about the two of them getting married for a while now, or at least hinting at it. 

He should’ve expected it. It didn’t come out of the blue. He saw the signs, just ignored them, because… because…)

‘If you’re scared marriage is going to ruin your relationship, JJ, I’ll have you know you’ve already done that yourself.’ 

This is about the point where everything just… It comes crashing down. The world does end the way JJ wanted it to. 

He feels himself growing very, very still, like when he was younger and his father raised a hand. He feels his breath halting in his throat and ears tuning out all sound, repeating John B’s words over and over until the echo became the echo of itself. He could feel the ground opening beneath him despite not moving an inch. 

When gravity drags you down to earth, your rose-tinted glasses shatter like porcelain. 

He sees Pope’s face of shock, then laughter, then embarrassment and betrayal at once, once he’s realised JJ isn’t joking. He sees him get up from his knees, hands shaking as JJ fumbles over his words, unable to find an explanation or an excuse. He feels cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, blood turning to ice in his hands. He sees his mum leaving, his dad’s hand raised; he sees people arguing and JJ wants to cover his ears. He sees himself, alone, alone, alone. 

And he sees Pope turning his back to him. Quietly. He doesn’t even argue back. Just takes the no and i’m sorry, i can’t do this, it’s never going to happen, not like this and doesn’t say a word. Just walks away. 

It’d be easier if he screamed at JJ. At least he’d know how to deal with that. 

Pope’s heartbreak is the quiet kind, the one that doesn’t ask for attention, just the opposite. Usually JJ’s there to hold his hand, to sit by his side until Pope’s ready to talk about it, or be somewhere around, far enough so that Pope deals with things himself, but close enough so that he’s there if he’s needed. He’s never been the reason for the quiet. 

Fire replaces the ice. JJ feels like the sun itself is tearing him open. 

‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Fuck.’ Then raises his eyes until he meets John B’s, blurry and barely visible. ‘I fucked up.’

He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until his knees buckle under his weight and he stumbles to find his footing. John B shoots from the couch and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him so tight JJ couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted to be held, even if by a friend. 

He doesn’t sob because the sob gets caught in his throat, too, but he lets out a cough that says all the same. ‘It would’ve been easier if you yelled at me.’

‘I know.’ John B pats his back, letting JJ rest his weight unto him. ‘Pope will understand. That’s why Kie went to talk to him. As long as you realise you’re hurting everyone by being an idiot, you can make it better.’

‘I thought—’ He stops, because his words get fumbled again, and now he’s pressing his eyes into his friend’s shoulder like he’s all he’s got. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone again.’

‘You’re not going to, okay? Just… Marriage is not all taxes, and you gotta understand that. It’s about knowing that if they get hurt, you’ll be allowed to see them. That you can get a house together, that you can look after each other if something goes wrong. That what you have is there to stay. Think of it as a promise.’

JJ snorts, but he doesn’t let go. ‘I don’t do well with people promising things to me.’

‘Then promise it to yourself,’ counters John B. The way he puts it makes it sound it’s as easy as breathing – JJ wishes he could feel the same. ‘Promise to stay with him. Promise to be around if something bad happens, but if something good happens, too. That’s what marriage is.’

‘I already promised that,’ he says. ‘His future and mine are the same.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Marriage is just making it legal. Making it formal. When what you have is honest and true, it doesn’t change anything. It just makes things better.’

JJ pulls out, feeling confident he can stand on his own two feet. He still feels a little lightheaded, but the thought of Pope possibly thinking that spending the rest of their lives together is the last thing JJ would want… That is the last thing JJ would want. Pope hurting because of him. 

JJ can’t afford to be scared anymore; living a life half-way ready to run is not living. 

He checks his phone; it must’ve chimed at some point because there’s texts from Kie, telling him where she is with Pope. His heart skips another beat, and at this point he thinks he could have enough heartbeats for a whole new person just from the ones he missed. 

He’s not dying today. He’s not dying before he gets to live the future he’s almost ripped out of his own hands. 

When he looks up at John B, he feels the hint of a weary smile on his lips. ‘I think I’ve got a promise to make.’

—

It shouldn’t be a surprise JJ finds them at the Boneyard, yet it’s still quite odd to see the scenario he’s seen a million times – Kie sitting next to the sea with her feet dipped into water as her fingers splash at the waves just about reaching her, and Pope… Pope sitting on the half-dunked log that’s been here forever, with his feet bare but not quite touching the water. His head is hung low and JJ can see the strain in his shoulders even from halfway across the beach; the cap is sitting on his lap, unused, despite the sun high above their heads. 

The sight tugs at his heart and he falters in his step, but John B’s firm hand on his back encourages him forward. JJ gives a slight nod; he’s not giving up on the courage. 

It’s Pope who notices them first and he stiffens even more; JJ sees Kie pat his knee before turning around and waving at them, then saying something to Pope. JJ wishes the wind would carry her words to him – is it encouragement or telling Pope he’s better off without someone who panics and refuses the one thing they’ve always longed for?

‘Don’t.’ John B pats him on the back. ‘I see you doing your dumb thought thing.’

JJ opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was that he meant to say, it’s gone forever. All he can do is try and keep his shoulders from slumping and hands from forming fists; he can’t allow himself to be angry at the world, or himself. 

The sand creaks underneath his feet. He hates it in this moment, because it makes him aware of every step he’s got to take to get to Pope, and the steps drag into eternity. 

Pope locks their eyes. JJ tries figuring him out, but he’s too far, and Pope’s too guarded. 

(Not against me, Pope. Please. Not against me.)

When they get there, JJ feels like fainting, but he sets his foot firmly on the ground. He’s not escaping. 

‘Hey,’ greets Kie, and John B returns the greeting. The feuded lovers stay silent, just taking each other in. 

(JJ always wished he could paint. The lines of Pope’s face are shaped as if they were meant to withstand centuries instead of being washed away with age. He wishes he could offer to Pope more than just… himself.

He’s talked about this with Pope before, though. Feeling inferior to his boyfriend was always going to be JJ’s Achilles’ heel, yet he didn’t think it would come to this. He made another promise, ages ago – to try to see himself the way Pope sees him. The way other people see him. 

To believe in himself the way he believes in other people, for once.)

The silence is heavy, but JJ forces himself to not see it that way. Instead, he looks over to Kie, to John B, and says: ‘Can you guys give us a second?’

There’s nods and then they’re off, with nothing between the couple aside from waves crashing into the shore. Pope’s head is hung and shoulders slumped, and he’s sitting on this log with one foot pulled up and resting on it, the other hanging in the water now. JJ’s fingers ache to reach across for his, but he tells himself it’s not the time. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Marriage scares me. I don’t know one that worked out, aside from John B and Sarah. I was raised to be on my own. Marriage means not being alone and that scared me, until I realised that… I haven’t been alone for a while now. The pogues, you… Nobody’s going anywhere. And if marriage is just a way to promise to you that I’m not going anywhere, either, and if it means so much to you, then I say let’s do it. I got scared, but never for a second did a life without you cross my mind. It’s — That’s my nightmare, Pope. Your future and mine are the same. Where you go, I follow. That’s the way things are.’

For a long time, it was JJ trying to come to terms with loving Pope – then it was Pope coming to terms with loving JJ. They’ve always loved each other, in a way, without quite saying it. It has never been the kind of love that is shouted from the rooftops – it’s the helping hand, the whispers of i got this, or you’re not alone in this, or i wish you could see yourself the way i see you. It’s the kind of love that’s etched into the air around them, existing as a part of themselves rather than something external. They’ve grown into it, shaped their lives around it.

It’s always been the beach for them. Their first kiss when they were seventeen, their first fight, their first promise to stick together through thick and thin. Every time something happened, something that mattered, etched itself into the back of JJ’s mind like the sound of his mother’s voice, it was always accompanied by the sound of waves on the shore; by the wind howling over the bay. It was always people chatting in the distance, or some music playing from a half-working speaker. It was always them, in the midst of other people’s lives. 

Pope proposed in their flat. 

When JJ drops to his knees, he doesn’t do his dumb thought thing. He doesn’t even think about it – for once, his gut isn’t telling him to run, but stay. ‘Pope Heyward.’

‘JJ—’

‘Can you let me do this?’ asks JJ. He laughs a little, shakes his head, and tries not to think about how ridiculous this looks. ‘I know I already had a monologue, but I don’t think I got my point across.’

Pope shakes his head, too; he isn’t smiling, but his eyes aren’t as strained anymore. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to—’

‘I want to. I want this, okay? I want you to hear it.’

He can see Pope’s Adam’s apple bob, and he can see his shoulders slump in a relaxed way. The lines around his eyes soften and his lips nearly turn upwards, just a little bit. A little twitch is enough to shoot electricity to JJ’s heart. 

‘Pope, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life saying it to you. You’re my best friend, my boyfriend, and my fiancee, if you’ll have me after the shit I pulled today. Husband, then. Father of your children, because I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, and I want it, too. Whatever you’ll be, I’ll be by your side. It’s all I want. No matter what our status is, we’re always Pope and JJ. We’re always just us. And I really haven’t thought out what I’d say next because—’

Pope’s lips crash into JJ’s, his hands grasping at JJ’s face, and world pulls itself together again. When they part their foreheads lean against one another, and he can feel Pope’s breath on his lips, and he feels his hands burning on the small of Pope’s back, and he can breathe and breathe and breathe like his lungs have never worked properly before. 

(He understands John B now. Not like he’d ever admit it to him.)

He lets out a chuckle, and then he’s kissing Pope again – a small, chaste kiss, just to feel the softness of the touch. His fingers grip the back of Pope’s flannel and he’s laughing into the kiss. 

‘You’re an idiot,’ says Pope. ‘I should break up with you.’

‘Can’t. I’m too irresistible.’

‘Shut up. You’re cheesy. That entire speech would put John B to shame.’ 

JJ shakes his head again and then his thumb is tracing the line of Pope’s jaw, eyes transfixed by his lips. He almost lost this. He almost gave up everything out of fear after promising to never doing it again. (He’s making a vow, this time. It holds more weight.) ‘You loved that speech.’

Pope rolls his eyes, in the way that tells JJ he’s right. ‘Kie told me you were freaking out at the Chateau.’

‘I was,’ admits JJ. What’s the point of holding back the truth? ‘I was freaked out of my mind. I thought I’d ruined everything.’

‘You forget how well I know you, JJ. I was hurt, but I knew you would come back. Old you would run, but Kie came and said you’re at the Chateau, and you wouldn’t have gone there if you meant to run.’

‘I couldn’t ever run from you.’

‘You better.’

JJ rolls his eyes at the teasing tone in Pope’s voice, then pulls him in for a hug. It’s not long until Pope buries his face in JJ’s shoulder, and JJ kisses the side of his head. ‘I do want to marry you, if you’ll have me.’

There’s a pause and JJ feels Pope chuckle against his neck, shivering a little. ‘What is it that you said? My future and yours are the same? That better be in your vows, John B.’

‘Shut up.’ JJ feels himself burning, neck up this time, and tries to laugh it off. ‘I get to be cheesy once.’

‘Just save it for the wedding. I’d like to hear it again.’

JJ angles his body so there’s some space between them; he doesn’t hesitate before planting another kiss on Pope’s lips, reveling in the ease of movement. This is what coming home feels like, and if this is what future has in store for him, who is he to complain?

[boonki]

17. “Can you let me see your eyes?” + obikin slow dancing <3 <3 <3

hello lovely! thank you so much for the prompt!! this was so much fun to write, i uh, got a little carried away with the romance i just love slow dancing so much like bro its just so good, so tender, AUGH  from this set (and i kinda forget this was supposed to be angsty but i think it worked out in the end lmaooo)

youre having a lovely tuesday :) 

here you go my dear <3

______

Snow dots Obi-wan’s eyelashes, holding perfectly still as the pair weaves their way through the crowd; the Christmas festival had just begun, gloriously donned trees and handcrafted, larger-than-life gingerbread houses carefully placed through the city like a treasure hunt for Christmas spirit. Obi-wan, a native to the city and a long time participant in the festival, drags Anakin, a new initiate and boyfriend of a few months, behind him by the hand, their fingers intertwined through thick gloves. 

“Oh, this one is by far my favorite.” Obi-wan throws the comment over his shoulder, eyes alight with elation, his whole face aglow from the warm lights meticulously strung through the trees lining the city sidewalks. Far off, Anakin can hear the faint echoes of Christmas carolers, of bells, of horns honking, and friends chattering.

A sharp tug sends him stumbling to keep up, and Anakin has just a moment to take in the building’s exterior before being thrust into a hotel more expensive than his life savings doubled. Tripled. It’s old money, marble staircases and velvet rugs, bellboys in suits and incandescent, shimmering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. 

“Are you sure we should be here?” Anakin mock whispers to Obi-wan, who is only half-listening. “I can’t afford to be here.”  

They come to a sudden halt; if Anakin hadn’t had his eyes latched onto Obi-wan's red and ruddy face, tinted from the cold, he would’ve tumbled right into him. Obi-wan pulls Anakin’s hand up to his mouth, giving it a chaste kiss through the glove. “Look.” 

In front of them, he doesn’t know how he missed it, is the largest Christmas tree Anakin has ever seen. Red ribbons cascade down the sides, a waterfall frozen in place, and lustrous silver and gold bells, ranging in size from a fist to his entire torso speckle the branches, interlaced with dozens of tiny doves and cardinals. They stand there and stare at it for a moment, in awe of its beauty, Obi-wan occasionally glancing over at him with the joy of a child written all over his face. Guests race around them, like a river finding its way around a boulder, veering off to various hallways and exits, lugging suitcases and families behind them, not paying the couple any mind. Somehow it makes the moment all the more special: how beautiful it is, to capture something so lovely in secret with someone, standing in the open, lost in your own bubble.

“Wow. A lot of balls.” Anakin teases: a facade to cover up how much he actually really likes it. 

Obi-wan gives him a side eye and a thin smile. “I know you want me to make a joke out of that, but I refuse to stoop to your level, they’re ornaments.” 

“You’d have to be taller than me to”-he holds up air quotes, dragging one of Obi-wan’s hands with him-“stoop to my level.”

Obi-wan rolls his eyes at Anakin’s smug grin. They settle back into gazing at the tree for a few moments more, studying every detail.

“You haven’t even seen my favorite part of this place,” Obi-wan says, bouncing off behind them, tugging a reluctant Anakin, yet again. They make their way across the lobby teeming with people, up a set of shallow stairs lined with plush carpet, and into a quieter part of the hotel, a midsize room with mirrored sets of doors on either side, the staircases continuing to loop up  the other side of the room. It looks like a resting point of sorts, a midpoint between the lobby and the rest of the hotel. The chatter of the lobby doesn’t follow them, and Anakin is suddenly aware of how alone they are. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s…” Anakin tries to come up with a compliment, and fails. It’s just a regular room. 

Obi-wan laughs, full of mirth. “No, this isn’t it.” He lets go of Anakin and saunters up to one of the sets of doors, pulling it open like a butler, holding a hand out for Anakin to enter first. “This is.” 

Anakin draws his eyebrows together, bemused and wary. “Is this the part of the date where you murder me in a big, fancy hotel?” He walks towards the open door anyways. 

“No, but a rather good idea, I’ll save that for the future.” Obi-wan snorts, his hand falling to Anakin’s lower back as they step into the dance hall. 

It’s like something out of a movie, Anakin thinks. The hall is enormous, dauntingly tall, probably meant for a ball. There isn’t any light save for the white streaks that stream in through lofty, narrow windows, like a painter had dipped his brush in moonlight and stroked once across the canvas, but it’s enough for Anakin to make out the exquisitely patterned wood floor, the white and gold molded walls, the unlit chandeliers, the grand piano tucked neatly away in the corner. A thin layer of dust seems to cover everything, and the air is stagnant, desperate to see life waltz in again. Anakin feels as though he stepped out of reality, the hustle of the Christmas festival light years away. 

Stringed music starts to play behind him, audio clearly from a phone or small speaker, tin and canny in quality. He turns in confusion. “What are you-”

“May I have this dance?” Obi-wan asks, a hand offered in between them, no longer gloved. He is barely visible in the low lighting, shadows enshrouding all but the curve of one cheek, the glint in one eye. Obi-wan’s phone is on the floor, volume turned as high as it will go. 

A breath moves through Anakin, quiet and shallow, otherwise he is a statue. If he tried to speak, he thinks he’d choke around all the emotion flooding his chest, spilling down into his hands and legs, roaring up through his head and leaking out through his eyes. The music continues to float out into the space around them. 

Obi-wan coughs lightly, laugh lines falling away to reveal a layer of nervousness. The ocean inside Anakin churns. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, and slips off his wool gloves, stuffing them into his back pocket and grabbing Obi-wan’s hand. The touch is like a shore to his ocean, pulling him forward, asking to be caressed, returned to, loved. 

They fall together naturally, staged for a lazy waltz, and begin to sway, like the tide creeping into the soft sand, retreating back into itself only to race ashore, finding a home in its rhythmic ritual. Anakin lets his forehead drop onto Obi-wan's shoulder, breathing him in, ignoring the lingering wetness from the snow. He thinks he’s crying. 

Obi-wan pulls back a bit, releasing his hand from the small of Anakin’s lower back to cup the dense gathering of curls just above his neck. “What’s wrong, dear?” The words are spoken into his hair with a gentle, hot breath that tickles Anakin’s ear. 

Anakin lets out a ragged breath, trying to get a hold of himself. This is more than anyone has ever done for him, more than he deserves; the whole evening had been a dream with a golden filter over it, every bit of it sewed into his heart with needle and thread, bleeding all over the place to never forget the details: an early dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, snow bumbling down around them in the crisp winter air, a cup of shared hot cocoa from a street vendor, the crowd cheering together as the city’s tree was illuminated for the season, Obi-wan giddy to show him every single tree, every single gingerbread house. No one had ever put this much detail into a date, had ever given him this much thought, this much care and attention in a relationship. And he loved every bit of it, loved all the banter and casual touches, loved learning more about Obi-wan’s life growing up, loved- oh god, he loves this man. 

Still on Obi-wan’s shoulder, Anakin’s cheeks are hot, and the sea is still leaking from his eyelids, salty and stinging. “I love you,” he admits, whispers, confesses, knows to be true. 

Obi-wan stills beneath him. “Can you let me see your eyes, dear one?” 

Anakin leans back, just far enough to hold his face above Obi-wan’s, and looks at him, into him, through him, lets Obi-wan search his face for any sign of a lie, Obi-wan trailing the hand that had been on the back of his head to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing across Anakin’s lower lip. “I love you,” he says again, a little louder, his voice echoing into the cavernous hall. 

“You love me.” Obi-wan repeats back to him, almost a question, almost a statement. 

Anakin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if he had just massively messed things up by admitting it so carelessly, so impulsively. “Yes, I mean, it’s okay if you don’t…” he trails off, not wanting to even say it. “I mean, do you-” 

“Oh, Anakin, yes.” Even in the dark, Anakin can make out his brilliant smile, the gleam of his teeth, the twinkle in his eye. “I love you, of course I love you.”

The broad swaths of the curtains seem to open a little wider, the room a little brighter, air humming with energy, the whole room seeming to say ah, love, finally. 

Obi-wan sweeps Anakin off his feet, which is no small task given his build, and spins him in a circle, breathless with laughter, swept up in euphoria. If Anakin is the ocean, Obi-wan will drown with him. The music continues to play out of Obi-wan’s phone, but the pair pays it no mind, coming together for a giddy and messy kiss, giggling at their cold noses and lips. 

They’ll have the rest of their life to dance, anyways.

[musical-icarus]

I’ve started writing a fun little story where our favorite angel Pit gets to go on a Pokémon journey, though not exactly in the typical fashion. I’d like to share part 1 with people, so may I introduce:

Need a Vacation?

By the gods, why has everything been so boring lately? No that’s a bad question, I know why. I’m probably not going to have a new game if at all for another twenty five years or so, meaning that I don’t think there’s any new adventures for me in the near future, and I’m just not a good fighter compared to the other characters in Smash Bros so I don’t get much attention.

By no means am I offended, it’s an honor to take part in such an event and even have a game within the past twenty years, I just wish there was something to do.

At least Min Min has opened up a noodle shop, and that’s where I’m heading later. Her ramen is some of the best I’ve ever tasted! But that’s after I’ve finished cleaning up all the items that were used today. An angel has to keep busy somehow.

While carrying the pokéballs back to the storage bin, one of master balls slips loose of my grip and begins to roll away. However it must have landed on the button or something because it was open when I picked it up and there was a tiny star shaped Pokémon floating above it. If I remember correctly that one is called Jirachi and is the wish granting Pokémon.

In an instant temptation strikes me, I could ask Jirachi if it can make it so my wings work properly so I could fly on my own. Then again wish granters are often the trickster type so I would need to think about this one more carefully. Perhaps I can come back another time after I’ve talked to Lady Palutena about it.

“I think what you need is a vacation.” A cheery voice resounds in my head, reminding me of whenever the gods would speak to my during my quests. After taking a quick look around to confirm no one else was around, I gaze back at Jirachi who was smiling me as I remember it’s one of those psychic types like Mewtwo.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, nearly forgetting about the rest of the pokéballs in my arms as I pick up the purple one belonging to the star Pokémon.

“I mean, you need to take a break, take your mind off of things however that may be. Whether it’s relaxing or getting to go on a fun adventure and I can help with that!” Jirachi floats up to my eye level after pushing down the master ball in my hand. It would be rude to return it during our conversation.

“Well, I could probably do that anyways...” I mumble, tapping my foot rapidly, extremely tempted to ask about my wings, but I’m too curious about what this mythical creature is trying to offer.

“But you’re waiting on someone to need you again?” Jirachi predicts what I was going to say in a softer tone, and they’re right. An angel’s work is never done. “And to make it more appealing, I can make it so you can fly on your own, though only temporarily.”

Now it has my interest. “What were you planning on doing?”

“Turn you into a Pokémon-“

“WHAT?!” I shout, not letting it finish. “B-but Lady Palutena! And Pittoo! I can’t just leaving them forever because I’m selfish and wanted a break!”

“Now hold on, you didn’t let me finish. I can only change you for about a year so that’s how I would have your vacation be. Anyways, I turn you into a Pokémon, teleport you to my world, you can stay there, do whatever you want, request to come back if you don’t like it, and you’ll come back as normal if something important happens.” Jirachi calmly explains, and I’m actually starting to like the idea. I’ve seen how Pikachu and Pichu are always running around so carefree, maybe being a Pokémon wouldn’t be so bad. As long as I have wings and can fly.

“Which Pokémon were you thinking you’d turn me into? Or should I pick?” I asked, not wanting to get stuck as a land Pokémon.

“I have the perfect one in mind, but I’m going to leave it as a surprise. What I will tell you is that it has fluffy wings like yours and you’ll be able to evolve since I’ve heard it’s a very satisfying experience.” The wishing Pokémon grins pulling one of the blue tags from its star shaped head and hands it to me. “Here, I think you know what to do.”

Turning and twisting the tiny strip of fabric nervously in my hand, I take one last look at Jirachi before making a wish that would hopefully be a good decision in the end.

“I wish to take to take a break on Jirachi’s terms.” I whisper with my eyes closed, though shortly after I can sense a light on the other side of darkness.

“Trust me, you’re going to enjoy this.” Jirachi whispers back in my head as suddenly my entire body goes numb, causing the tag to slip from fingers, and for me to remember-

“I need to tell Lady Palu... Lady... Palu...” Before I can finish my thought, I lose my balance and tumble down into a sitting position. My head just feels so fuzzy and the rest of my body is uncomfortable. I thought Jirachi said this was supposed to relaxing!

“I promise, your goddess will get word of where you went and that her angel is safe.” Jirachi reassures me, lifting up my chin up to greet me with their smile as the inside of my mouth grows on increasingly more tight. I make an attempt to feel my cheeks, but my arms feel too heavy so I can’t even lift them. My panic only grows as whatever was swelling up inside of my mouth begins to push out past my lips. I can’t see much but it looks white and round, and... and... oh gods I think it’s a beak! I can’t figure out where my teeth are and my nose, it’s disappearing! None of this feels right at all. Alright Pit, you need to look on the bright side, you did agree to this after all. A beak means you’re becoming a bird... right? And that means you’ll be able to fly, just like Jirachi said.

Once my mouth and nose had fully merged with the large, round yet squished mass stuck on my face, the entirety of my skin begins to tingle, causing goosebumps to shoot up on my limbs, and the remaining normal parts of my face became too itchy to bare. The only problem was that my arms still had no feeling in them, preventing me from scratching at my head. However when I glanced down to see what was wrong, I wanted to scream but all that left my beak were high pitched whistles. What I had noticed first was that the cuffs on my wrist were a lot further up than they should have been, but a terrifying truth clicked as I watched them come even closer to my head. My arms were shrinking into my body! My hands had already disappeared while I was distracted by my face, leaving nothing but a bit of my palms for now.

“Swa! Swa!” I try to call out to Lady Palutena, but my voice had already been replaced, and that fact really scares me. I should have seen this coming, though for some reason I still didn’t expect not being able to talk to anyone, which only made my desire to be with my goddess burn even brighter. I need her right now, but not to help me, I just need her to hold me, and care for me like I’m her own child. That’s it! I feel like I’m a little kid again, I’m surprised I even remember what it felt like given how it’s been nearly three thousand years.

I barely notice Jirachi leaving me while my bronze cuffs fall and clatter on the ground beside me. Before I get the chance to look around for the star Pokémon the itchiness in my face becomes far to overwhelming that I’m tempted to throw myself on the ground just to scratch it, though without arms getting back up might be an issue so I decide against it. While rubbing my cheek against what’s remaining of my shoulders, I catch a glimpse of red and yellow near my temple.

‘Perfect!’ I think to myself, deciding to put my new beak to good use and using it to move my scarf out of the way so I might be able to get some relief with my ruby and gold broach. I’m able to get some relief using the pin until I realize that my reflection in the polished jewel is becoming even more off with patches of purple spotting up everywhere I managed to scratch and it was slowly spreading. While I’m trying to figure out what bird has a purple face with a strange white and round beak with my limited knowledge of Pokémon, I hear the gold band that’s normally on my upper are clang to the ground, and what’s left of my shoulders are uncomfortably tight.

Thankfully as my broach falls away with the complete loss of my arms, my face doesn’t itch nearly as much, and especially where the stuff is forming. Actually, even when thinking properly becomes increasingly harder, the stuff feels like feathers, and that makes a lot of sense, given the situation.

For a brief moment my scalp began to itch like my face, which probably meant feathers were going to grow there, but instead I can feel most of my hair receding with few bits of remaining bare skin. However, I never feel new feathers taking its place. But before I can use one of my wings to investigate, a sharp snap by my shoulder blades shoots through the numbness of my body.

“BLUUUUU!!!” I cry out as I fall onto my back shortly after wings migrate their base to where my shoulders were, all while my neck begins to feel really bloated. Through the pain I hadn’t even noticed how my tunic and tank top weren’t moved much by my maneuvered limbs. As I try to and unsuccessfully get up by flailing my useless wings and legs, I find I can’t move my head independently and my whole body moves when I try to look around to watch the rest of the changes.

“Oh Pit, are you alright?” A sweet and gentle voice, that I would recognize from anywhere, asks alongside the sound of graceful footsteps. Through the discomfort, my heart warms, and if I could still smile I would.

“I saw how stressed you were, and decided bring Palutena here so she could help you through the last phase and you’d get to say goodbye.” Jirachi, who as also returned, informs me, though I don’t really pay any attention to them.

“Swa Swablu!” Mama Palutena! I chirp cheerfully as I’m lifted away from the ground, leaving my sandals and the gold band from my thigh behind. I had been so distracted I never realized how small the rest of me had become. Overall, I am able to fit perfectly into an arm of my beautiful green haired goddess, I can’t bend my legs anymore, and though it’s hard to see with how far down my head has been compressed into my upper body, my wings are just behind where my ears would have been on this compact form, and the feathers on them, they seem puffier. My toga is more like a large blanket wrapped around me, and my tank top and shorts are barely hanging onto me. And-hold on. I said “Mama” Palutena? Or at least meant to say it? I mean... I guess she is my only mother figure, but I’ve only ever addressed her formally...

Before I can dwell on the thought any longer mama Palutena removes my tops and gives me a light scratch on back/back of head, I can’t really tell anymore... I called her “mama” again! Wait, but she is my mom, she made me, it only feels right, and- ooh just a little more up- right there! That’s the spot!

Now content in mama’s arm with a very nice petting, I watch as my already small feet continue to shrink while just remaining within view of my sight. A distressed coo escapes me as my toes click and merge into each other, leaving two tiny claws on each foot while the rest of the foot thins into a point that are coated in pale blue scales before disappearing from my vision. Just as my ankles were about to sink into my tiny body, my tummy began to feel real ticklish as it bulged out a bit, moving my face to face forward and my little feet to sit underneath me. I’m overcome with a burning desire to hug mama, but without arms I needed to use the next best thing.

I keep my eyes closed and do my best to wrap my wings around mama while I can feel my eyes shrink in size, shift a bit closer to my beak, and little pinches like my feathers that have fully engulfed all of my skin, allowing me to comfortably kick off my shorts. For a moment I think I’m done, but to put the icing on one very delicious cake my wings tingled as the feathers puffed up, and they only got fluffier and fluffier, just like clouds. Underneath the pure fluff that was my new wings, my muscles and almost all other mass under my cloud feathers seemed to fade.

“Feeling better?” Mama asks, giving me a light scratch under my beak.

“Swa~a~a....” I whistle blissfully, curling up my wings against the sides of my body. Why was I so scared before? Mama is here and she’s giving me all the love I need.

“I have to say, you make an adorable little bird. I hope you enjoy yourself on your vacation.” Mama smiles down on me as she sets me on ground, where I struggle to get my balance at first with my new body. Wait... vacation? Oh yeah, that’s why I... why I... what did I do again? My head feels just as fuzzy from when I started changing, and if I changed, that means I was something else before. But... what was I? I suppose it doesn’t matter since mama isn’t worried.

Speaking of mama, she knelt down in front of me and is now holding a mirror towards me. She’s right, I am adorable! Though I was wrong about the color of my feathers, they’re not purple and instead are a sky blue. Small tail feathers ruffle behind me as I admire the three cute little thin feathers on the of my head, and giggle chirps at my oversized laurel crown that’s only managed to stay on because of my wings.

Mama untangles the crown from my cotton feathers and spins it around a little in her hands then holds out her arms above me, just high enough so I couldn’t jump into them with my lack of legs. Did she want me to fly? But I can’t.... then again, why? All I have to do it flap my wings, right? Suddenly, a feeling of weightlessness takes over me as, I can no longer feel the ground beneath me and I can see my wings moving just by thinking about it in the corner of my eye.

“Swa Swablu! Blu Swablu!” I’m doing it! I’m flying by myself! I cheer loud and proud as I land in mama’s cupped hands, though why exactly I’m so excited, I can’t quite remember. Whatever the reason, I’m happy and mama is happy so that’s all that counts. While bouncing around, mama settles my leafy laurel back on head, but she must have used her magic because now it fits just right.

“There you go, it might help you remember yourself while we’re apart.” Mama hums while petting my back, and Jirachi floats over to me. Why would I need to remember myself? I know who I am, my name is... is...

“Pit!” Jirachi grins, quickly running their fingers through my feathers. That’s right, my name is Pit, and I’m.... “You ready to go now?”

“Go where?” I ask, trying to remember why Jirachi is even here. Ooo! Maybe I can wish for a bunch of ice cream while they’re here!

“On that adventure you wanted to go on, silly!” The star Pokémon giggles, holding their hands up to their mouth.

“Adventure? But what about mama?” I solemnly question lowering my wings, but my mood perks up when mama scratches right under my wings.

“Mama will always be with you, and I’ll be looking over you even when you can’t see me.” Mama smiles, putting my worries to rest while Jirachi places a hand above and between my eyes. “Have fun on your journey-“ And for a brief moment the world around me turns white. When my sight returns there’s soft grass beneath my feet, trees and bushes are all around, and mama and the wish granting Pokémon are no where to be seem.

Just ahead of me is a small circle shaped pond which I easily fly over to the edge of. I feel all giddy inside for some reason while doing so, I’ve always been able to do that, right? Or at least for as long as I can remember. Pushing the thoughts of my memories aside, I admire my beautiful reflection in the water as inside think about what mama told me.

A journey, huh? Yeah. That sounds like fun!

[mrcorkus]

(Yes, I did write something five years after I planned to. I've been living off of Far Cry but Mad Max always has a way of finding me again. So I'm practicing my writing skills with high War Boys)

War Boy Bros and The Night Sky

She smiled.  Slit shouldn’t have thought anything of it; she was always smiling.  In fact, it was a rarity to see her not smile.  On the road, in a fight, at breakfast and war and scouting and scrounging and smoking on top of the Boys’ peak, she could always find the time to smile.  She was a talker after all, a schmoozer he heard it called, always wriling up others for stories to share.  The only time she didn’t smile was when she was angry, and the fury in those sneers was enough to send some opposing skags running, fearing that deathly glare and that sharpened blade of hers, decorated in her mates’ teeth.  

Nugget was smiling now though, and for some reason, it felt...different?  Maybe it was the smoke, and Slit averted his gaze, looking towards the Wasteland, the rocks, the flaming pyres in the North, the stars in the sky, and to his knees, feeling a bit wobbly.  Nugget’s stupid idea to do this.  Betray bedtime for green smoke time utop their peak, stolen greens from the Immortan’s own gardens, rather traded for to a green thumb in exchange for shinies she’d found on her travels.  Stupid Nugget…

He had little room to complain, however.  Stupid Slit.  This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and it wouldn’t be the last time, not if they lived long enough. They were healthy thus far, though there was a rasp to Nugget’s voice still, but one never knew when the choking sickness could take one in their sleep, out on the road, surrounded by dust.  Nothing had happened yet though, and he was going to continue to enjoy his life, whether it be half or not. Even so, here they sat, pleasantly satiated from the green smoke, one again.  A long time ago, they both would have looked at their future selves, berating them for betraying their Immortan.  Their present selves would berate their Pups back, for they were transcending Immortan's plane to fly on High with the V8 themself, far more superior than any man-god, worth the risks, far as they were concerned...

Still her stupid smile…

“Wha?” 

He looked at her again, eyes already glazing over, much like hers, getting red in the whites and he felt tired, still wandery though, couldn’t stop thinking.  About stars and scars and cars and Pups and that stupid girl smiling.  He rolled his shoulders, leaning on one hand as he lazily draped his other arm across his knee, attempting to come off more sober than her, but it was a proven failure.  “You’re dumb…”

Then she giggled, adding to her wide yellow smile and pulling on the scars of her lips, watching him watching her and then looking down at the rock they sat upon.  “No you,” she snickered, tracing a grease stained finger across the carvings in their rock, little stick men with little shoddy explosions, compliments of Slit’s knife.

“You’re weird,” Slit then told her, scowling, but still watched, this time her hands as her fingers danced across the carvings.  

“You always say that,” she muttered, biting at her lip, looking back at him once more, eyes green as the Citadel peaks sparkling in the moonlit night.  “What’s new, ey mate?”  She scooted closer now, and he repositioned his arm to accommodate her closeness, her breath tickling his ear as she took to a whisper.  “Feelin’ shine?  Grabbin’ moons?” and she snickered again, too tickly and he none too gently bopped her in the lip with the side of his head.

Nugget wasn’t bothered, leaning towards him again to issue a returning bop of her forehead against his wounded cheek.  It stung, he hissed, and she smiled some more.  At last Slit was able to pull his gaze away, mind a wandering fog while the world around him looked clearer and brighter than it ever had been.  The night was fair, a cool wind across their peak, not a cloud in the sky. The stars shone in their trillions, moon big and bright and full, and they remembered stories of Heroes of old up there, shining their headlights across the Wasteland, leading lost souls home.  And here he and his pack mate were, high as those stars, and he grabbed at the moon with his hand.

She still smiled, shoulder against his chest as she too rose her hand opposite his, her arm round his and linking their fingers through the moon, a salute to their gods, to V8, together, and her giggle was a distraction.  “Suns and moons and stars, mate,” she said, thumb gliding across the bar of his vambrace, down the length of the blade underneath, tempting to undo the buckle and let it loose.  Slit pulled his arm away however before she could, sighing to the sky as he attempted to come back down to the ground.  “What’s eatin’ you, brother?”

It took him a moment, her weight against him feeling heavy, consequences of the smoke for it made his body feel light itself, weightless, soary.  “Just tired,” he drawled out.

“Aw, Slit, boo boo.”  Why did she always have to call him that?  Especially when he was too high to care that she called him that?  “The night’s young as seeds, and we got a whole row of gardening to be done before retirement.”  He glanced to the side again, to her smile and her lazy gaze and he scoffed.  Not all could understand the speak of her and her brother, but Slit had grown up with it, and he knew what she meant. They had all the time in the world.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” she said, smile lowering to a small smirk as she leant once more into his chest, head resting on his shoulder, a finger idly tracing away again, this time at the scars on his stomach.  “Usually you’re on a roll.  Stories of anger or annoyance or befuddlement, tales from the work of a much overworked Slit.”  

“Not much to tell today,” he said, lolling his head to the side, feeling his now bleeding cheek touch the skin of her dome, and he grimaced in response.  He refused to break contact though, for the pain was always an addiction for him.  “Got stuck pupsittin’.”

Giggle, snort, drap her tracing arm over his lap as she stared up at the sky, eyes alight with the pretty and shiny things up there.  “They give ya a nip in the ankles, did they?”

“Ran me ragged.”

“As they are oft wont to do, boo boo.”  She was more daring with the pet name when he was high, knew he’d be too lazy to care, but he did bite down on her ear for it.

“Ah, that’s me hearers, Slit!” she pulled away from him, albeit not for long.  Rubbed her aching ear against his shoulder and bopped his chin with the top of her head in response.  Their tiny tussle was lazy and short lived, a few other bites and pricks and pinches, and he did manage to shove her down onto the rock, smiling that devilish smile of his down unto her once she was properly submitted under him. And they just watched each other, minds in clouds, with nary a reason as to why they bothered looking at each other at all.  Until Nugget spoke that is.

“I oft wonder, Slit, where your mind doth wanders…” her smile was small now, lazy, eyes half lidded as she observed his face, the bleeding cheek, his scarred ear, his pretty, dark blue eyes.  She’d told him plenty of times, those were some purdy lookers he had, and he’d always respond with a roll of them.  Across the black of his forehead her eyes scoured, the white of his cheeks, the river of blood that she touched with a finger, then her palm, wiping it away and he winced but accepted it.  In response to that pain, his fingers clenched around the skin of her waist, nails scratching against fresh scarifcation, Nugget responding with her own hissing.  

Their foreheads met, mashed together, black grease on black grease and her smile was back, wider now, devious, a raspy laugh escaping her throat when he smiled back.  “Careful mate,” she mused, tempting to bite him on the cheek.  “Those be me new stories.” One more forehead bop and he crawled off of her, Nugget staying where she lay.  She wasn’t alone for long however, because Slit was right there, sighing up to the sky once more as he took his place at her side, an arm behind his head as his other provided cushion for hers.

“What are they this time?”

“A rainbow,” she replied, idly fingering Slit’s blood on her palm, using it to draw a line down her wrist, preceding to trace arches there, like a rainbow.  “Saw one a month back, when it rained.  Joe’s teeth, it never rains enough, ey mate? Maybe I’ll tattoo over it someday.  Just gotta get some colored ink for that.”

Slit wanted to say something about colored ink being a rarity, something beholden by the Immortan himself, something Nugget need not even attempt to try to get her hands on. Nugget had her ways though, her ways and her people and her sources and resources.  If she wanted colored ink, she would find a way to get her sticky fingers on it.  So instead of saying anything, he just watched her, draw with his blood, same stupid smile on her face as before, and he wasn’t sure what made it so different tonight.  This was a night like any other, something they’d done a hundred times before.  Since they were Pups they’d wander off to the green peaks of Citadel, watch the clouds or the stars or far off happenings they were unable to attend.  All those times she smiled, so what made him wonder about it now?  

A moment went by, a minute, more minutes, and a few more, and Slit forgot what he was wondering about, mind foggy, body limp and light, and Nugget’s head felt heavy.  His cheek still bled, he felt it run back and touch his ear and that tickled, rubbed it against Nugget’s head and his fellow War Boy nudged him back.  “Still leaking there, huh?” she asked, voice soft, as soft as her rasp could sound it that is.

“You hit the staples,” he muttered. “Course it’s still leaking.”

“Aw.  You know what’d be right shine and all chrome, ey?” He was taken aback when she was suddenly off his arm and looming over him with her own body pushed against his chest.  There was a glint in her eye, mischief in her smile, and her weight was disrupting to his sternum. He couldn’t find the want to push her off of him, and he couldn’t figure out why. Too high maybe...

“What…”

“Sweet treats,” she beamed.

“Nugget, no--”

“Nugget, yes!” She beamed. She was grabbing his wrists, pulling him up to stand and the headrush was overwhelming, the world a sudden blur as the colors all shot at him at once.  Pull yourself together, Slit, he told himself, finding his legs and focusing his eyes on the female War Boy pressed to feed themselves literal fruits of her labor, or rather, her thievery.

Her smile was...inviting, almost sweet in a way, if a War Boy were to be sweet-smiled to their fellow War Boy.  Her hand was in his, as rough as his, as any other War Boy’s, and he blamed the smoke for the touch, too sensitive to him tonight, colors too bright and sounds too clear and dumb stupid girl smiles being too dumb and stupid.  He pulled away, and she pulled him back, and he pulled again, and she denied him refusal.  Slit wasn’t in the mood to get into trouble tonight.  He just wanted to lay on his rock carved up with his name and his stories and watch the stupid stars.  

With minimal effort--he was bigger and stronger than her--he pulled her towards him, literally hoisting her up and landing them both painfully back onto his rock, him on his back and her on her side.  She grumbled, rubbing her sore shoulder, growled at him and he hissed back.

“No,” he demanded first, lazy blue eyes set on her green in tired reprimand. Then his finger went to his lips in a shush manner. 

Nugget pouted.  “You’re no fun.”

“I just wanna lay on my rock, and bask in the fracking moonlight okay?” He whispered, feeling just a bit disgruntled by her eagerness.

Nugget huffed, chewed her cheek, sighed, grumbled, then proceeded to follow him into a more comfortable position upon his rock.  The same position as before, and she then distracted him yet again, just as he was finding leisure once more.  She was nicking his chin with her fingers.  “What?” he hissed back at her, turning his head to see her stupid, sweet, dumb smile.

She giggled, biting her lip and booping his nose with her finger.  “Crazy boutcha,” she teased.

"Fukushima," Slit groaned and rolled his eyes and watched the sky, Nugget by his side, the two finally able to find some lazy casual conversation about nothing as they watched the Heroes of the Old World guide the lost through the Wretched Wasteland.  He was content, as was she, and her stupid smile made him feel some kind of warm and fuzzy in his stomach.  Or maybe that was just the week old scars....yeah, probably just the week old scars.

[determinationisnotcrash]

‘Like Gunbuster, but with Dudes’

I wanted to try and capture the passionate, energetic tone of a scene from one of my favourite OVAs in writing, so I attempted it with characters from the GB Discord I’m on.

Kit belongs to @topazshadowwolf

Impact belongs to me.

The scene this is a reference to is this one!

“I-I… I can’t go on…!”

“Impact!?”

The raptor’s jet abruptly halted, formation breaking as Kit unintentionally overtook him in this strange space. Hurriedly fumbling with the controls, the half-Blaster turned on the commlink to reveal his friend huddled in the cockpit, trembling.

Concern for the larger, yet younger skeleton welled up inside him. What had happened to make him break down all of a sudden…!?

Impact’s voice was usually either calm and controlled, or completely over-the-top and bursting with energy. But now… “I can’t do it anymore…! It’s useless… all useless…!”

Flashes of what the Papyrus described to him of his home timeline ran through his mind. It was likely that this wasn’t something sudden – rather, it had been festering inside him ever since he first mutated. “Impact…”

“Even if we succeed in our task, there’s no point to it all! The Ray Empire’s still choking the Earth! With the Emperor hoarding all the power for himself, he could easily rip away everything from us at any moment!”

The beast brought his misshapen forepaws in front of his face, clenching and unclenching them. At the stage he was at now, they could barely be called hands anymore. “I’m trapped in this disgusting body, which could give out and degenerate at any moment! And…!”

He slumped against the controls with a pathetic-sounding ‘thunk’. “There’s no one waiting for me back in my home world! My friends and family are all gone… and there’s nothing I can do about it. With neither past nor future… I may as well just die!”

Kit pressed his paw-like hand against the monitor, as if trying to physically reassure his friend. “Impact… please get yourself together. If this continues, we’re both done for!” As if to emphasise this, the massive aircraft violently rattled, like caught in turbulence. Their enemies had taken advantage of Impact’s hesitation, bombarding the two with relentless attacks.

Regardless of his growing panic, Kit continued, “While you may never be able to return to the past, you don’t know what the future holds yet. You could have the chance to experience more happiness than ever before… but if you can’t take that step forward, you won’t be able to even try!

Now the lights within the craft were starting to flicker. More and more nightmarish shapes were latching onto their vehicles, trying to crush them. “This conflict… it’s grown beyond the scope of a single world. If we let the demons from between dimensions devour any of our worlds… no one will have a future! The entire universe – reality itself – will be eaten up by the Void, and not even Determination will be able to bring it back!”

Impact’s sobbing ceased, his body having gone still. Hope starting to well up inside him, Kit pressed through with his encouragement. “Doc, Sabre, Hikaru, Red… all of them are counting on us to get through this! They chose us to be the ones who would venture through the gap, stop all the demons, and save everyone!

“If we fall here, everything that’s happened up ‘till now… everything that will happen… it’ll all be for nothing! For the sake of our world… for the sake of the people living within it… we need to go on!”

The half-Blaster voice cracked, putting every last drop of his emotion into his plea. “So please, Papyrus…! Fight!”

…

…

…

After what felt like an eternity… Impact rose up. His eyes were filled with resolve. “Kit… I understand. We fight together!”

“Impact…!” Despite the dire situation, the Sans couldn’t help but grin. Eagerly, almost as if on autopilot, his arm shot to the special ‘MODE’ lever. From ‘transport’ mode to ‘battle’ mode! “I’ll focus on the weaponry and energy output. You just do your thing with the controls. I’m behind you all the way, bro!”

Kit’s grin was contagious, a huge toothy smile spreading across the Papyrus raptor’s maw. “Alright…! LET’S DO IT!” With a burst of light, the demons clinging to the planes were blown away! The two vehicles drifted closer to each other, glowing as the fusion sequence started.

As the machines combined, Impact’s thoughts wandered back to his Sans and Undyne. Sans… Undyne… watch me, from wherever you are. I’ll see this battle through to the end. 

The planes underwent several shifts as they merged together, each movement far faster and more complex than the untrained eye could follow. After mere moments, the light disappeared to reveal a humanoid shape. Two flames had united to form an inferno! The True Dimension Knight, warrior of justice! Defender of the innocent! Saviour of all Earths… had finally arrived!

Like moths drawn to a flame, dozens- no, hundreds of skeletal dragon-like demons swarmed towards the steel titan, rushing through the interdimensional space like ravenous sharks in pursuit of their prey.

The Blasters’ response? “Impact, remember the plan. We just need to make it to the centre of the Dimensional Gap. That would be… right past these guys.”

“Kit, shall we use ‘that’?”

Kit let out a genuine chuckle. “Heh, I thought you’d never ask.”

“UUUUUUOOOOOOHHHH---!” A battle roar exploded out of the main pilot as he launched the machine up into the ‘air’.

Within the mechanical knight’s hands, a giant sword materialised! A glowing golden weapon, illuminating the darkest of nights and cleaving through evil!

“ULTIMATEEEE…”

“HEAVEN-MEETS-EARTH…”

“SWOOOOOORD!”

True to the second pilot’s philosophy, the strongest attack came first. The blade of light cleaved through the abominations effortlessly, leaving titanic explosions in its wake. It slowed down in time to reach a floating chunk of rock, using it as a temporary foothold.

Despite the sun’s rays being unable to pierce this space, it nevertheless glinted off the mech’s armour. Its arms folded, announcing to the entire battlefield, “Don’t assume that this Dimension Knight is some random machine! Everyone’s legacy, from the past…”

His brother’s companionship.

Undyne’s fiery passion.

Alphys’ enthusiasm.

Toriel’s and Asgore’s warmth.

The compassion Frisk showed him, even if it was fake.

“Everyone’s dreams, for the future…”

Sabre’s kindness.

Doc’s care.

Red’s support.

Hikaru’s hope.

“THEY ALL LIE WITHIN IIIIIIT!”

The draconic helmet of the suit parted, revealing a mechanical Blaster head. It looked and functioned just like the real thing! An immense beam surged forth from the maw, blowing apart the formless monstrosities in their path with searing, pure magical energy.

A beep on Kit’s monitor alerted him to more danger. “Heads up, Impact!”

“Ah…!” Following his friend’s warning, he turned the mech’s head upwards, the blast coming with it. When he could see the giant meteor-sized ribcage bearing down on him… he had already bisected it. But that wasn’t the end of the demons’ counterattack. This time, Impact’s monitor was the one that flashed with the warning sign. “Kit! Incoming from below!”

“You got it! Beam Spikes, scatter!” The tail of the draconic mech whipped around with a slash, firing out several spikes as it did! With a force rivalling the most powerful of mother nature’s storms, the leviathans rising up from below were rendered harmless pincushions.

All this was enough to even inspire Kit, filling him with the energy to utter another speech of his own. “No matter how thick or smothering the darkness choking this world threatens to become… our hearts will only shine brighter!”

Impact would have given him an affirming pat on the back if he could. “Couldn’t have put it better myself! No matter what gets in our way, we’ll break through!”

As if in response to this challenge, wall-like beasts, living shields approached… their intent to hit them like trucks… but Impact wouldn’t allow that. “ROTATION LASERRR!” In a slick, fluid motion, he threw his shield and fired a sword beam, diffracting it off the spinning shield to slice through them all like butter.

Eager to seize upon this opportunity, he retrieved his weapon and rushed forward… but perhaps, he was a bit too eager. “Impact, pull back! We’re going too fast!”

Hundreds of blasts, made of choking darkness and equal in intensity to their own, obliterated the spot where the Blasters’ mech… used to be. Kit’s warning let Impact pull back just in the nick of time, separating the Dimension Knight into its component aircraft and evading the attacks!

Kit kept watch over the readings on his screens. Dodging everything while setting up a counterattack was a hassle… but pushed onwards by his motivation for a bright future, he could do it. Keeping one eye on the enemies outside, while the other eye on the system inside, he yelled to Impact, “Doesn’t look like the concentrated fire will let up! You know what to do next.”

Within the other aircraft, Impact grinned. If the enemies wouldn’t give them a break… then they would just have to make one! The jets boosted forwards as they re-combined, the humanoid figure already in a battle-ready stance. “HOLY GREATSHIELD!”

The knight charged, thrusting its shield forward as it smashed through the demons like a living battering ram. From a zoomed-out view, it would be as if the off-white clusters of twisted bones and teeth made way before this golden meteor!

Another boast left the pilot’s maw. “You think that’ll be enough to deal with the likes of US!?” Lowering its shield to expose its mouth, another blast from the mech tore through the unholy creatures.

Kit took advantage of this break in the enemies to check his display. “We’re almost at our destination! Just a little more to- WHOA!”

He barely had a second to react before he found himself almost literally holding up the heavens. A titanic planet, covering his entire vision, quickly came down on him. As if the mindless enemies were crowing, ‘There’s more where that came from,’ another living planet of bones and spikes rushed up at the mechanical knight from below!

Even the 250m steel titan started to struggle from this, the joints of its limbs creaking ominously as the pressure intensified… However, in stark contrast, the pilots were more composed than ever. Impact lightly chuckled, carrying the same air as someone who saw mildly interesting sight on a roadtrip. “Who would’ve guessed? That they could even become celestial bodies.”

Kit winked at his co-pilot. “The power of these things is truly astronomical, eh?” The Sans casually pressed a button, producing a blast to hit the ground beneath the mech. It didn’t even scratch the vast object.

“Not bad.”

“However… our own power – that of righteous hearts – is not to be underestimated!” Impact briefly closed his eyes, steadying his breathing… before announcing the mech’s true ultimate technique. “LIMITLESS LIIIIIIIGHT!” The golden glow about the mech intensified further, to almost blinding levels! It even burned his own body, every inch of him sizzling with pain… but for how much Impact was hurting, it hurt their enemies hundreds of times more.

With one last surge of energy, everything in the Blaster duo’s nearby area violently shook, before exploding in a flash of light! When all the smoke and flames cleared… the True Dimension Knight was still standing.

However… so were their enemies. If even one demon was left alive, it could reproduce endlessly and create more spawn. That was why…

“We’ve made it to the core. You ready, Impact?”

“Yes!”

The mech was powered by Light itself. If they overloaded it here, at the centre of the demon’s spawning grounds, it would certainly spell the abominations’ ends.

Kit entered the code for the self-destruct sequence, and the change was almost instantaneous. Unlike the golden, passionate aura that the two pilots could make it exude, it now took on an almost ethereal glow, indicating it wasn’t much longer for this world.

As the glow engulfed its body, it also spread to the space around it. The ghastly, roiling purplish-black of the Void began to clear, peeling away to reveal a pleasant, gentle blue sky beneath.

Kit and Impact couldn’t stay to appreciate the sights, though – it was still unknown what the Light would do to normal creatures. A lone jet, much smaller than the massive crafts that formed the mech, emerged from the Dimension Knight’s chest and sped away.

The remaining hellbeasts shrieked and writhed as they fizzled away into nothingness, like ghouls that vanished with the coming of dawn.

Impact turned his head back, looking for one last time at the remains of the creation that helped carry them so far. “Thank you for everything, Dimension Knight. This is farewell…”

Flying back to the portal from which they entered, the warriors returned towards their world… towards where their friends were waiting.

[jedimaesteryoda]

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm

I am going to talk about my favorite Batman film of all time, and some have even argued it to be the best Batman film out there. This Batman movie showed what many DC fans agree to be the best Joker and one of the best Batman performances. It has an excellent story that draws the viewer in, and a great film score courtesy of Shirley Walker. No, I am not talking about Nolan’s The Dark Knight, or even Tim Burton’s Batman, as great as those films were. I am talking about Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. It’s a direct-to-video film based on Batman: the Animated Series, the first show of the DC Animated Universe that to this day is acclaimed by critics and fans alike. It came out the same year as Schumacher’s Batman Forever, yet didn’t get as much attention due to not just being overshadowed by the live-action film, but lack of advertising on the part of Warner Bros. Of course, a number of critics agree that between the two films, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm was arguably the superior film. Bat nipples aside, what made the Mask of the Phantasm superior to Forever in some ways was the story, the love interest and of course, the way Batman was portrayed.  

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD: 

If you haven’t seen it yet, I advise you see it first before you read this essay. If you choose to read ahead anyway, and don’t plan on seeing the film then that’s a shame. Seriously, just watch the film, and I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. 

Plot

A shadowy figure appears going around murdering mob: the Phantasm. Batman is mistaken as the culprit, and is trying to figure out who this mysterious figure is, and the connection to the murders. The Phantasm isn’t the only arrival, so is Andrea Beaumont, an old flame from Bruce’s past. We get to see glimpses of their relationship in flashbacks, and learn that Bruce once had a chance at a normal life. And of course, it wouldn’t be a classic Batman film without the Joker, who is also drawn into the story in a way that works.

One thing you will notice about the plot that separates it from most Batman films and every live-action film is that it is a detective story. We never get to see him solve a mystery on-screen, or rather solve a mystery the audience doesn’t already know the answer to. We so often associate Batman with his sobriquet “The Dark Knight” to the point that it is in the title of two Batman films, and often forget his other sobriquet, “the World’s Greatest Detective,” even though his character was first introduced in the DC series, Detective Comics. 

Batman’s story is also straight out of noir: organized crime, corrupt politicians who deal with them and the protagonist being a single man, usually a detective, who is psychologically wounded and might appear morally ambiguous or compromised, but generally adheres to his own personal code of ethics.

Setting and Tone

The setting comes straight out of the original comics with the style being late 1940s from the cars and clothes to the Tommy guns. In contrast to a lot of Batman films, you see actual blood from the wounds as well as teeth getting knocked out, which helps to convey a better feeling of the violence. The animation used is what the producers called “Dark Deco,” Art Deco combined with noir imagery. It helps to give the film a dark atmosphere not seen in a few of the live-action films (Nolan’s), and while I’m not saying dark = better, as Snyder proved that with his Superman films, it works perfectly with a dark character like Batman. There is a tragic, melancholy tone to the whole film with the exception of the flashbacks. The dark overtone of the present scenes contrast nicely with the much brighter and more colorful past scenes of a young Bruce and Andrea’s blossoming relationship, giving the past scenes a nostalgic feel and reflecting a happier time in Bruce Wayne’s life. It only helps to emphasize the tragedy of the couple’s story.

Characters and Acting

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Kevin Conroy, himself a Shakespearean actor, does an excellent job as the voice of Bruce Wayne/Batman. He manages to convey different sides of the character from the dark, tough Batman to the friendly Bruce Wayne seen at social events and the more vulnerable, younger Bruce Wayne in the flashbacks. I remember seeing him live at New York Comic Con 2018 for a panel promoting the Blu-ray The New Batman Adventures; he said regarding the character: “Batman is his true identity, and Bruce Wayne is the performance.” Batman’s serious, commanding voice is present when he is wearing the mask or unmasked with Alfred, his most trusted confidant, but changes when he’s in public as Bruce Wayne with a more warm, friendly tone. This is opposed to Christian Bale’s Batman who used his Batman voice only when in the suit, and otherwise, used his Bruce Wayne voice, even with Alfred present.

We get the Batman we expect with his first scene being knocking a mob meeting, and beating up the mobsters. Likewise, we first see Bruce Wayne (excluding when he’s in the Batcave with his costume off) hosting a black tie party at Wayne Manor surrounded by a group of female admirers as well as a young, pre-Batman Bruce Wayne in the flashbacks. William Faulkner in his Nobel Prize speech said that there is nothing worth writing about more than the heart in conflict with itself, and we see this with Bruce Wayne’s dilemma between becoming Batman and wanting a normal life. This helps to give a kind of complexity to the character, and shows the personal sacrifices that came with being Batman.

Andrea Beaumont

Dana Delany is good as Andrea Beaumont. Andrea is Bruce’s ex-girlfriend, and practically the only person he ever had a chance of a future with. She managed to pull Bruce out of his dark solitude, and provide him a kind of happiness that likely had been missing in his life since his parents died. She also is a femme fatale straight out of a hardboiled detective fiction novel: intelligent, beautiful and harboring dark secrets. However, to the filmmakers’ credit, Andrea wasn’t a one note character, as in just a manic pixie dream girl who teaches a broodingly soulful young man to embrace life, a femme fatale out to fulfill her personal ambitions, or even a passive damsel in distress who always needs saving by her hero, but a layered character with agency.  

Joker

Mark Hamill is legendary for being the voice of the Joker, and he is consistently rated by fans as the best Joker. They borrow from Jack Nicholson’s Joker, and Hamill’s experience in the play Amadeus was incorporated into the Joker’s laugh, which he made into a song. This adaptation of the Joker fits the sobriquet of “the Clown Prince of Crime,” with a flower on his suit that squirts acid, and a laugh combined with his unsettling smile that manages to be chilling. On the surface, he has the friendly, funny demeanor one would expect from a clown, but you also get the sense that beneath that lies the heart of a nihilistic, murderous psychopath. He manages to be both funny and terrifying, the ultimate scary clown.  

Alfred Pennyworth

Clive Revill does a decent job as the usually dry, proper Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred is the stoic British butler with a stiff upper lip, not without his own dry sense of humor (“What rot, sir! Why, you're the very model of sanity. Oh, by the way, I pressed your tights and put away your exploding gas balls”) except for two moments in this film. The first moment is when he sees Bruce don the cowl for the first time, and one sees the horror on Alfred’s face. The second is at the end when to comfort Bruce, Alfred drops the whole butler schtick for a moment calling him not his usual “Master Wayne” but “Bruce” to connect with him on a more personal level, and speak to the boy he knew. Giving him emotional support during his time of sorrow in that scene demonstrates how much Alfred is a father figure to Bruce. 

Arthur Reeves

I know this is just a minor character, but Hart Bochner also does an excellent job as City Councilman Arthur Reeves. Just by listening to his voice, you can feel this guy practically oozing a sleazy politician. Reeves calls for a special police force to capture Batman after the murders, and you can tell how much of an opportunistic, vain man he is. He also plays a quiet, minor role in Andrea’s story. 

The Promise vs Falling in Love: The Tragedy of Batman

Through flashbacks, we follow a young Bruce Wayne becoming Batman alongside pursuing a relationship with Andrea. You see his future hinted in the background whenever he is with her, with wishes of optimism and hope waiting to be crushed by an inevitable dark fate. Bruce meets Andrea at the cemetery as he was visiting his parents’ grave while Andrea was visiting her mother’s grave, and yes, that’s the most Batman way of a first meeting. We see his first attempt at crimefighting when he stops a robbery, and he wears just all black with a ski mask. He stops the robbery, but he mentions afterwards that the issue was the thieves didn’t fear him when they saw him. Andrea arrives just right after he mentions that. They have some playfighting, and surprisingly, he laughs, and they share their first kiss. He also sees the precursor for the Batmobile on their date, and bats appear from what would become the Batcave right after he proposes to her.  

It all comes to a head while on their date at a theme park, Bruce tries and fails to stop some bikers from robbing a man. He is later in his manor trying to design a costume for his superhero persona, and talks to Alfred about his internal conflict over his promise to become Batman alongside wanting a future with Andrea. Conflicted and confused, he goes to his parents’ grave.  

Now, what this film does a great job doing is displaying Batman’s dark psyche. Look at all the Batman films, and Bruce Wayne’s decision to become Batman is treated as a reasonable decision with Bruce in Batman Begins saying “People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy. I can’t do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I’m flesh and blood. I can be ignored, destroyed. But as a symbol . . . as a symbol I can be incorruptible. I can be everlasting . . . Something elemental, something terrifying.” He becomes Batman to become a symbol that could do things he couldn’t do as Bruce Wayne, and motivate the people of Gotham into taking action against the corruption and crime of the city. Compare that to Bruce Wayne’s decision to become Batman in Mask of the Phantasm in this scene.  

Bruce Wayne is at his parents’ grave, begging for a way out of his promise to be a crime fighter, and apologizing for falling in love and wanting happiness. He is losing a reasonable argument to the dead over a promise they never agreed to, and as any person would have told him, would have wanted him to be happy and be with the person he loves. His decision to become Batman isn’t portrayed as a healthy, rational decision at all, but a delusion. It isn’t largely driven by a personal desire to motivate the citizens of Gotham into combatting the problems of the city, but by childhood trauma and an obsession with vengeance for the deaths of his parents. For all of Nolan’s attempts to make his Batman as realistic as possible as opposed to the Mask of the Phantasm of the DCAU going for the more comic book feel, Mask of the Phantasm’s portrayal of the man who chose to don the cowl is, in my opinion, more realistic than anything we’ve seen in any Batman film.  

It makes it all the more tragic as his words “It just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore” show that his relationship with Andrea managed to provide a way for him to finally move on from his parents’ deaths. In their final scene together in their past relationship, we see Bruce finally propose to her, leaving behind his decision to become a vigilante crime fighter, and instead choosing a chance at happiness. Sadly, he gets the ring back the next day with a note telling him that she rescinded his proposal and he should forget about her.  

This is one of my favorite scenes. Batman first donning the mask combined with great musical direction by the late Shirley Walker captures both how epic and how tragic this scene is. It is epic seeing him put on the mask for the first time, and see only Batman’s eyes as he gives the famous Bat-glare, something that hasn’t been able to be replicated on live-action films. However, as scriptwriter for the film Michael Reeves stated: “When Bruce puts on the mask for the first time, and Alfred says 'My God!' he's reacting in horror, because he's watching this man he's helped raise from childhood, this man who has let the desire for vengeance and retribution consume his life, at last embrace the unspeakable." Alfred sees the Bruce Wayne he knew is gone, replaced by Batman. Bruce donning the mask isn’t portrayed as a happy event that the story had built up excitement for, but a tragic one as Bruce, having lost his one chance at happiness, sees becoming Batman as the only thing left for him.  

The Ending (MAJOR SPOILERS):

The Phantasm is unmasked, and revealed to be Andrea. She comes to the theme park to kill the last of Valestra’s old gang, Jack Napier AKA the Joker. Unmasked Andrea and Batman, whom she figured out is Bruce earlier on, are at the theme park where they had their date in a flashback. The park was named “World of the Future,” and it symbolized the bright and hopeful promised future Bruce had with Andrea. Now, it was abandoned, dark and decrepit, occupied only by the Joker, Valestra’s ex-hitman who killed Andrea’s father. It represented not just the state of Bruce and Andrea’s relationship, but the people they had become. Andrea’s story by the end is revealed to be so much similar to Bruce’s. She is motivated by the murder of a parent, lost out on a chance for happiness and with seemingly nothing left, donned a dark visage to carve out a path of vengeance. (These two are perfect for each other.) As opposed to fighting criminals and super-villains to defend Gotham’s citizens, she decides to murder all the mobsters involved in her father’s murder. Her path is more vengeful, and shows what Batman could have become were it nor for his own code. The park is later destroyed by the bombs the Joker placed around it, symbolizing the end of their relationship, as it is the last time Batman sees her (on-screen at least) with her final words being “Goodbye, my love.” Andrea is later on a cruise ship, and when asked if she wants to be alone, replies sadly: “I am.” Batman in the final scene is standing on a skyscraper looking up at the sky with the Bat signal, and just fires a grappling hook as his mission goes on with his life unchanging. These two people who are practically made for each other are destined by fate to never be together, but spend the rest of their lives apart and alone.

As is typical in noir fiction, the story ends in a lose-lose situation for the protagonist. Every other Batman film ends on a happy note, or at least with some optimism with the most pessimistic ending being The Dark Knight with Batman taking the blame for Dent’s murders and Dent’s death himself, and Rachel is dead after deciding to choose Dent over Bruce, but he at least won some victory as he stopped the Joker, and achieved his aim of preventing Dent’s case from being dismissed and the mob being set free. In Mask of the Phantasm, one doesn’t get the feeling that Batman won anything: no criminals were put away, and no overarching goal was achieved with even the unmasking of the Phantasm not feeling like a win. The only thing that could be seen as a victory is Andrea ending her quest for vengeance, but Bruce is still left heartbroken. The real tragedy of Batman is the price he pays to be him, his personal life is unchanging and he is never able to enjoy any peace or anything resembling a healthy, normal life. 

MOTP manages to be everything I think a Batman film should be: dark, action-packed, intelligent, entertaining and surprisingly, emotional. This will always be my top recommendation for a Batman film. 

[isroselalondebisexual]

You're probably getting tired of doing kidswap analysis, but I just really wanna know how you think these ones would work: Rose Strider (swapped with Dirk), Dave Lalonde (swappes with Roxy), Jade Crocker, and John English?

So Rose Strider, growing up entirely alone in a very enclosed space, observing her Bro (for the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna say it’s Dirk who grew up kinda weird but generally okay) from a distance of many years. Extended isolation probably means touch is something she simultaneously craves but has NO IDEA what to do with. She observes her friends and reads over her own conversations with them a million times, overanalyzing everything partly because she’s very smart, and partly because she has nothing else to do, and partly because she has no idea how regular human beings interact because she isn’t one. Goes out swimming a lot, isn’t really mechanically minded so she doesn’t end up with Dirk’s hoverboard or anything but she’d actually probably end up a REALLY good sailor. Knows the winds, knows the waves, goes out sailing and fishing and pretends she’s a protagonist in one of Ernest Hemmingway’s novels, like The Old Man and the Sea or something. Probably hates the taste of orange soda and orange Gatorade. Thinks it’s her Bro trying to pull some kind of game with her. He was a weird dude. There’s definitely meaning here. Is the Gatorade a passive aggressive reminder to stay hydrated? Is all the soda meant to remind her that salt water is undrinkable and she must consume this processed, sugary, water-shit in order to survive? Oh, he got her good. At the same time, she probably looks up to him a lot, even if she would rather pry her own teeth out than admit it. She’s really good at sewing and knitting, and has a bunch of plush replicas of his famous smuppet empire. She sleeps holding onto an orange one she crocheted. She’s stuck isolated with only her waterproof computer and a couple robots her Bro left behind as “caretakers,” but they don’t really have any soul in them, not that she can see. So she rabidly learns everything she can. She reads wikipedia for fun, has a million tabs open at all times, learning has never lost its magic and sometimes she wonders if that’s really all she can even do. Definitely has attachment issues, where sometimes she’s cold and callous and goes long spans of time when her friends don’t see hide nor hair of her, and other times suddenly they can’t get her out of their personal space. No idea how to relate to human beings. Awake on her moon beforehand, she’s communed with the horrorterrors a bit, and has used that to her advantage as a Seer. As Seer of Heart, she knows a lot about her friends! She can see their souls in plain, she knows she’s loved, and she knows they’re all friends, and she is good at picking up on their emotions and moods. But what does she DO with that information????? John is distressed so… pat his back??? Give him chocolate??? When Dave is humored should she laugh??? Is she even in on the joke??? What does Jade need when she’s angry??? Should Rose just listen??? Give words of comfort??? Help her calm down??? Socializing is so HARD! She has all this information but doesn’t know what to DO with it! Her quest, much like Dirk, is to figure out how to be, like, a human being who can relate to others in a productive and empathetic manner.

Dave, raised in isolation, growing up adoring his mom from many years distance, with a cat-cloning machine and a bunch of chess pieces for company. He, at least, understands the basics of the social exchange. The chess dudes aren’t the BRIGHTEST, and they don’t really operate with human social norms, and they’re always hungry, and sometimes they try to eat his cats (Dave is cat dad now, those are his babies), but he likes them, they’re his buddies. Pumpkin potlucks with pumpkins imported directly from John’s island are probably pretty common? Is Dave sick of the taste of pumpkin? Probably. Does he absolutely want to have those potlucks anyway? You bet your ass he does. He’s friends with them, for all they seem to worship him as some sort of god. He probably thinks they’re all really great and adores them in a capacity similar to how he loves the Mayor. Getting to meet his friends face to face is probably something that is simultaneously the best thing in his life, and absolutely terrifying. Holy shit, those are other human beings. Dave doesn’t know how to human. He tries desperately to human, and he tries to model himself after his mom (it doesn’t end up too well), but holy shit he is a novice in the art of humaning Rose. Rose what should he do. Rose. Knight of Void, his job is to protect them from the unforseen and covert. )(IC and the Dersian agents are gonna have a harder time with Dave on the scene, and while he cannot perform Roxy’s role of leading their session, he can damn well keep it safe.

Jade Crocker, raised by Dad Crocker, in a society much like ours but slightly more advanced and as heiress to a baking empire. Probably a culinary scientist of some sort, since her whole life baking and cooking and stuff has been a thing, but she’s still, at her heart, innovative and scientific. Probably knows the nutritional properties of a tomato and lots of weird food history fun facts. An actual goddess with mettle to be meddled with and an optimistic attitude that cannot be kept down. Crockpop of course supports his daughter and is so proud of her, encourages her to pursue all her goals, and watch out for assassination attempts. Good reflexes. Definitely a dog person. The kind of girl who will make those “A cat came into my house, teleported me across town when it was raining, and left me there to call my dad to come pick me up while I stood in an abandoned field for half an hour because he plugged the wrong address into his gps” posts. Nobody really takes them seriously but since she lives with GCat meddling in her life they’re actually true. That damn cat has caused her TOO MANY PROBLEMS. If you have a cat she wants NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. Probably unironically reblogged that post about the “I’m a lesbian and I hate cats” article and insists that dogs are the only way to go. Does own a rifle in this verse, but Crockpop is VERY meticulous about gun safety and proper usage and handling and some of their father-daughter bonding time is the two of them out on the shooting range together. She’s a real sharp shot. Witch of Life, she’s a powerful healer and can revive folk, but more than that, she can FUCKING TAKE YOURS FROM YOU IF YOU CROSS HER. Like Feferi, her powers are pretty vast in what she’s capable of doing, and she doesn’t have a lot of restraints on them, so the last place you wanna be is on her bad side. She can give you life and she can take it away, bitch. Also… so this is entirely inspired by that one Overwatch character, but please imagine Jade alchemizing a rifle where the bullets are her Life magic and she just. Shoots you better. My badass daughter oh my god I love her so much.

John English would likely end up a lot like John Harley, just without the nifty chess people or magic dog and with some cool monsters plus the death of his grandma. Depression sets in early, socializing is hard, getting out of bed is hard, feeling excited or adventurous is fucking hard, even though he wants to. He wants to feel happy and good and excited, he craves that, but it’s hard. He wants to be goofy and have fun but it’s all so exhausting but talking to his friends usually makes that aching tiredness inside him alleviate for a little while. He’s not suited to isolation. As Heir of Hope, he would start out thinking that the Game got his classpect wrong. He’s not hopeful. He doesn’t embody anything remotely approximating hopefulness. But the point of the Game is that he must become hopeful, he must unfurl his wings and take to brighter skies, brighter times, build his relationships now that he can see his friends, love them fully with his whole heart, not at a distance but present and real. His story would not be the story of a plucky go-getter adventurer, but as a broken boy learning how to Hope for the first time. It is a story of overcoming, of victory, and of the desperate pursuit of forward motion, of learning how to look forward to the future and see good things in it, of finding happiness and goodness in a life of possibilities, even when faced with adversaries.

[gallifreyanlibertea]

Freshmen

a/n: http://gallifreyanlibertea.tumblr.com/post/166081033138/a-challenge

“I don’t know why I had a crush on you, freshman year.”

And Arthur glanced up to meet the momentary gaze of a pair of upside-down eyes. It took him a bit of stretching, a bit of tiptoeing to get his head far enough above the kitchen counter to glare at Alfred as Alfred maneuvered his way back upright on the couch, from a position Arthur had told him would drive him dizzy with all the blood rushing to his head. Those blue eyes were trained on his phone.

Alfred then looked back up, brow cocked at Arthur’s position hunched over the kitchen sink. “Or why I’m dating you now either, you freak.”

“Mock my Netipot one more time, I dare you.” Arthur huffed, and it was ridiculous really, the things Alfred would find weird. Arthur’s argument would, in turn, be to ask Alfred if he liked his kisses salty with the remnants of Arthur’s running nose, and Alfred would gag.

Much like he was doing right then. “How the fuck is shoving a pot up your nose your first sickness-priority?”

Arthur ignored him.

Alfred grinned, “I don’t know if you have a right to be uppity after what I just found, anyway.”

And it could have been some of Arthur’s old writing, which frankly, would have been a big enough blow to Arthur’s ego- or it could have been a backread of the texts he’d sent his friend Francis that night, which sported a saccharine-sweet block of text in which Arthur, in his sleepless hours, had droned on about how cute Alfred had looked asleep next to him.

Well, either of those had to have been better than the image Alfred had skipped into the kitchen to shove into Arthur’s face. An Instagram post dated back at least three years, of Arthur dabbing on the corner of where the McDonald’s drive-through ended, hair slightly-gelled, not a single ounce of shame hanging off his jacket-clad shoulders, with its collar all turned up.

“There he is.” Alfred had said with a snort, and Arthur frowned. “There’s that Arthur I fell in love with.”

Arthur supposed it was way back then, the year he’d discovered he was painfully homosexual- The year he’d discovered wanting desperately to be in the same P.E. class as Alfred wasn’t exactly just to have another class with a pal.

Er, well, the photo perhaps dated a few months before that discovery.

“If you look close enough, you can see the denial,” Alfred said with a snicker, as if reading Arthur’s mind.

Arthur put away his pot, rinsing his face. “And if you swipe left or right, I’m sure you’ll find pictures of yourself that ring true for the same thing.”

Alfred pouted, but nevertheless swiped, prodding at Arthur’s shoulder with a sudden hoot, “Babe, look!”

So Arthur was correct.

Before him was a picture of the Alfred that Arthur had fallen in love with. A mere child with a lanky build, flexing arms that at that time, he’d probably thought were the beefiest they were going to get.

Arthur stifled a laugh, “Oh yeah, I fell for a real man.”

Alfred led them back to the couch and Arthur curled into his side, pressing his wet face onto Alfred’s shirt to dry.

It was calming, really. Arthur liked to think of it as a flash to what could easily be the future- staying over at Alfred’s house while both their parents had gone away for a weekend of paired-couples-pampering… it was what it would be like for the two of them to live together, to reminisce about the past as they were doing right then, Arthur’s hand in Alfred’s, with Alfred’s lips placing lingering, innocent kisses on the knuckles.

“Ol’ noodle-arms here skipped P.E. every other day,” Alfred said with a self-deprecating shake of his head and Arthur perked up with a memory that had come hurtling back to him, a grin playing on his lips.

“You’d stay up so late trying to cook up fake-vomit so your parents would keep you at home, remember?”

“With a single piece of corn added for authenticity, how could I forget?”

Arthur pulled away to snatch the phone into his own hands, scrolling through the out-dated feed as Alfred gazed over his shoulder.

“Oh god, Alfred, my skin.”

Freshman year was a vibrant time for the two of them, that was a given. Alfred snickered.

“Remember your skin-care phase?”

Alfred had been a great friend to have put up with Arthur then. A great friend to put up with all the weekends spent traveling high and low in search of an organic aloe vera leaf to soothe his red, blemished skin. A great friend to console Arthur when he- every single time- managed to cut his finger on the single, rather blunt, cactus spike.

A great friend.

“How did we become friends?”

Alfred paused, brows furrowed in thought, “Well… you were the hotshot from England, why wouldn’t I have wanted a piece of that?”

“Because I was strange,” Arthur said with a laugh.

It was true to Alfred as well, it seemed, because Alfred sat upright with a start, eyes wide with the beginning of a joke.

“The capybara!”

Arthur blinked, “What capybara?”

“We-” A chuckle, "Don’t you remember the-?” a pause as those lips spread in a grin, “The day there was a vote for which animal would be our school mascot, and you wanted so badly for it to be a capybara.”

Good God.

Arthur could vaguely remember it now. He remembered having the entire class turn to look at him like he was some sort of zoo animal, he remembered parting his lips for the explanation his teacher had asked of him on his insistence that they submit the capybara as a mascot option. 

“The name means ‘master of the grasses’ and I thought it fitting, since we live in a prairie region… and it’s lifestyle is amphibious, which accurately portrays both our school’s popular football and swim team.”

And Alfred, who had been sitting behind him, had turned to say to his friend, rather loudly, “Is there no easier way to just say ‘I'm a furry’?”

Arthur had been livid. He’d turned around so fast he was dizzy, “I retained my information from doing a project on the Capybara back in England. I doubt you’d be able to recall anything educational, much less what you had for dinner last night.”

It was, as the other thirteen-year-olds called it, a sick burn.

“Well, what of it?” Arthur said now, and Alfred turned to him with a sunny smile.

“It was the day I realized you were enough of a freak to be my friend.”

A pause. A smile in response, spreading on Arthur’s lips. They turned back down towards the phone screen to swipe onto a whole new level of Freshman year.

The homecoming dance.

It was a picture of the two standing as far apart as they could in the frame, because they were just two bros at a school dance, two bros just chumming out, nothing else.

“Oh! Arthur, it- It was at those… the stuff in front of the school. Know those bush-walls?”

“Hedges, love.”

“Yeah, the hedges.” Alfred grinned, throwing an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, a warm squeeze. “I asked you to homecoming there, remember? As you got off your bus?”

“With enough ‘man’s and ‘bro’s sprinkled in to assure me you weren’t being gay.” Arthur mused.

“You still thought it was pretty gay, ‘cause you were-” Alfred pointed at the gap in the photo, “You were that far apart from me the whole night.”

A warm flush to Arthur’s cheeks. He let the phone turn off, turning to Alfred with raised brows, “At least, I wasn’t that far apart when you asked me again the next year.”

The poster had said ‘Hoco? (Full Homo)’, and the man holding the poster had been an Alfred- slightly more built than he had been last year, due to his sudden obsession with working out over the summer- sweating tubs and buckets at the thought of losing his best friend.

The Alfred after Arthur had said yes was one with a significantly brighter smile on his features, pulling Arthur into a hug with a force that crushed the poster between their chests.

“Ah, Sophomore-year homecoming.” Alfred mused, kicking back with a dreamy smile. “It was great! The only downside being that I forgot the law was a thing.”

It hadn’t been the first time, for Arthur, seeing Alfred get drunk at an afterparty, but it had definitely been the first time being the boyfriend responsible for hauling Alfred out and sobering him up.

“Thanks to your alcohol breath, we couldn’t properly consummate our first date with a kiss,” Arthur said with a half-hearted huff.

“We definitely could have.” Alfred corrected, “You just didn’t want to.”

“I don’t think you realize just what I mean when I say alcohol breath.”

A pause. A chorus of two soft chuckles, two soft sighs, and Alfred turned to look at Arthur like he was a limited-edition item on some fast food menu, eyes sparkling with adoration.

It was something Arthur would never get tired of.

And when Alfred leaned in to kiss him, Arthur scrambled out of his grasp, “I’m sick, you idiot.”

“I don’t care.” And Alfred kissed him anyway. It was unlike their first kiss- a scrambled press of a pair of lips against another behind a tree in the school courtyard, teeth clashing, noses bumping.

Alfred’s hands cupping Arthur’s face were the same, however, as the ones that fumbled with their video game console as Alfred had struggled to gain an advantage against Arthur in whatever warfare game Arthur had pretended to like as a Freshman.

The smile on Alfred’s lips after coming up for air was the same smile he had tossed Arthur after taking that infernal picture in the corner of where the McDonald’s drive-through ended. And Arthur buried his face in Alfred’s slightly-damp shirt, letting those arms pull him into an embrace not quite as tight as the post-homecoming proposal one had been.

Needless to say, it had been a long while since they were Freshmen. It had been a long while since they’d been so small, since Alfred had been nothing but a child. 

Although, it definitely didn’t feel that way the next week as Arthur held a whining, complaining, sick Alfred in his arms. “Just use the damn Netipot already, love, I swear it helps-”

[segadores-y-soldados]

wild shy anon back in your box bc i reread Light and Water (like, for the hundredth time) and i just love how you do so much research in your fics and I wanted to know - do you get a lot of inspiration from research? is there something that really powers your writing mind? sorry, i know these are silly questions, but I really do love how you write and I'd love to pick your brain for that 'w'

Hello shy anon!  I’m glad to see you’re back!  I’ve been debating on if like I should give you a funny answer or a serious one.  I guess I’ll do the latter and try to be funny with it?  Basically, I’m a hugeass nerd.  Like, trust me, I know I LOOK cool and badass and intimidating, but inside, I’m just like any other nerdy bro on this void of a website.  I wanna marry Prince Sidon like all the rest of you, and I haven’t even played Breath of the Wild yet because money.  I scream a little inside when Coela updates just like everyone else.  In terms of humor and writing, I’m a big fan of Rooster Teeth and Achievement Hunter.  I’ve got a #Red vs Overwatch tag (taken from the blog by the same name that I legitimately am not associated with) but basically like, I’m a sucker for that kind of humor.  I’m pretty sure I’m the only person in the Overwatch fandom who has legitimately considered making an “Uno: The Movie” crossover.  Trust me, it’s bad.  And it also cracks me up inside.  So whenever I feel like I’m “stuck in an angst rut” and been writing “sad Soldier: 76 and bitter Reaper” for too long, I go watch a Let’s Play or some RVB and feel better.  In terms of just pure inspiration, I get a lot of that from history, anthropology, sociology, and archaeology.  I am very fortunate and privileged to be allowed to work in these fields (like, literally, doing fieldwork on a regular basis), and have been honored to work in a few different places around the world with the permission of local communities.  I have been heavily, heavily inspired by the different places I’ve been to, the different people I’ve met, the different ideas I’ve encountered, and I try to stay faithful and honest to those experiences.  And maybe it sounds silly, but I want to bring the beauty and vibrancy and vitality of all these experiences and put them in fanfics and fiction writing.  As I said with Light and Water’s introduction, a big part of what drew me to Overwatch was the beautiful in-game world building built and the interesting, diverse characters, and how much they meshed with my own, small slice of understanding of the world.  I am drawn to the idea of a brighter, more colorful future, something better than what we have now, something where people use humor and ingenuity and creativity to accomplish cool things.  Maybe this is arrogant of me to say, but I think that many people who ship Reaper/Soldier: 76 like to focus on the angst of their relationship, but that’s not what attached me to them.  I liked their wit, their sarcasm, their humor, the weight of their relationship, how it seemed to fit in the larger world of Overwatch.  And so all these things - humor, comedy, action, colors, history - came together in this way that only a select few series have ever done for me.  I also fucking love music.  Like, legit, I listen to pretty much anything and everything.  

[nsschaintale]

Chain 6: 600 Plans

Tether trudged his way towards Catena's location at the electric maze he was building, but he was found by him halfway through.

Catena: OH, TETHER! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO FIND YOU! I'VE FINALLY FINISHED MY ELECTRICITY MAZE! HAVE YOU FINISHED YOUR PUZ- (gets hugged by Tether) ERR...TETHER?

Tether: You're a great brother. You know that..right?

Catena: WELL, OF COURSE, I AM! I AM THE GREAT CATENA, AFTER ALL!

Tether: ….I love you...you know that...right?

Catena (blushes orange): ERRR...W-WELL, I DO, TOO, TETHER. PLATONICALLY AND IN A BROTHERLY WAY, I MEAN!

Tether: Heh. I know. Everything's going to be okay soon. You know that...right?

Catena: TETHER? IS SOMETHING...

Tether (hugs tighter): Please....Catena...

Catena: … (pets Tether's skull) ..YES, OF COURSE, EVERYTHING'S GOING TO BE OKAY.

Tether: …..I'm....

Catena: YES?

Tether: I'm sleepy....

Catena: WELL, IF YOU JUST..

Tether: …..Catena....

Catena: …..WELL...YOU DO LOOK LIKE YOU HAD A BAD TIME, SO...

Tether (flinches a little): …...

Catena: ...I, GREAT BROTHER CATENA, SHALL HELP YOU ON OUR WAY HOME. (moves forward but is stopped) UM, TETHER, I CAN'T MOVE WITH YOU STILL ATTACHED TO ME.

Tether: ….Pick me up...?

Catena: OH, ALL RIGHT. (picks Tether up and holds him carefully as he wraps his arms around his neck and his legs around his torso) MY, I WONDER WHAT MADE YOU BECOME LIKE A BABY BONES. (walks his way to their house)

Tether (chuckles dryly): Even though you're younger than me.

Catena: WHA- ONLY BY A FEW HUNDRED YEARS! (huffs) HONESTLY.

Tether: Hey...even wonder how we were born, Catena?

Catena: CAN'T SAY I DO. WELL, MAYBE A LITTLE. MY MEMORY OF IT'S NOT THAT GREAT SADLY, EVEN FOR ME. BUT I DO REMEMBER GOING TO WATERFALL AND MAKING OUR WISH ONCE.

Tether: Whoa, you remembered that? I almost forgot.

Catena: YEP. MY WISH WAS TO GO TO THE SURFACE!

Tether (flinches): Yeah....that was a great wish....

Catena: IT WAS! DIDN'T YOU SAY IT WAS YOURS, TOO?

Tether: It was? Heh...maybe...

Catena: … WE'RE ALMOST THERE, BROTHER.

Tether: ….

It took a short while before the brothers quietly reached their home. After entering, Catena was about to put Tether down on the couch, but Tether just tightened his hold on the taller skeleton.

Catena: TETHER, I DO APPRECIATE A GOOD HUG OR TWO, BUT I MUST INSIST THAT YOU LET GO.

Tether: ok..

Catena: ….YOU'RE NOT LETTING GO. YOU HAVE TO MOVE YOUR ARMS AND LEGS TO DO IT.

Tether: ok.. (shifts his limbs a little)

Catena: ...YOU'RE STILL ON ME, TETHER.

Tether: i know.

Catena: WHY ARE YOU NOT MOVING?

Tether: 'cause i'm afraid you'll disappear if i do....

Catena: TETHER, I PROMISE I WON'T LEAVE YOU. I MEAN, WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITHOUT SUCH A COOL GUY TAKING CARE OF YOU?

Tether: I don't know, but you're right. You are a cool guy...

Catena: OF COURSE!

Tether: ...in those clothes. You're a real...ice guy in them.

Catena: DARN IT, TETHER!

Tether (chuckles darkly): But...seriously though, bro.....stay with me... at least until I fall asleep...

Catena: ….WELL, IT IS GETTING LATE, BY UNDERGROUND STANDARDS, BUT WHY NOT EAT FIRST?

Tether: …..Sure, bro.

Dinner was quiet for much of the evening. It was unusual for the brothers since Tether usually tends to drive Catena up the wall with pasta puns, and Catena screeching at him to stop. But tonight, it was just a relative silence with the exception of silverware touching plates and teeth and loose chains bumping against table and chair legs. Neither brother spoke to each other until they ended up in Catena's bed (Tether was adamant about it after reading “Puffy Dragon And The 88 Stars” to him), telling each other good night before drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Catena woke expecting Tether to be clinging onto him like he did before, but he was nowhere to be seen. He figured he went back to his room in the middle of the night, but when he checked, Tether wasn't there.

Catena: HUH, THAT'S ODD...

Catena decided to try and find Tether at his main station, but he found a note on the front door showing, “Gone to work on my puzzle. It's personal. -T”

Catena: JUST WHAT KIND OF PUZZLE WOULD PULL TETHER'S ATTENTION AWAY THAT MUCH? (scratches at his neck bones; a faint red mark in the chips of his vertebrae is visible) MUST BE A SUPER TOUGH ONE.

He decided to go and fix up his electric maze before moving on to fixing up the next puzzle given to him by a Doctor Kusari: a randomized color puzzle. He checked over and tested it out a few times, seeing the various combinations and reading over a list of rules on a piece of paper. Afterward, he decided to go find Tether and check on him. Meanwhile, Tether was back in his laboratory, reading over the notes he, or perhaps the Tethers from previous Resets..? He (They) wrote these notes most likely as records of what happened in the past Resets. He did come across the last Reset page of the 251-300 section that read 'why' and 'I have a plan'. Whatever plan his previous versions had must be important enough for some of the folders to be labeled oddly. Upon this, Tether did notice the folder with the pages of Catena's death was aptly named as such. The next folder he grabbed was named “RESETS 301-350: Ketju's End and The Case Study of Frisk + The Gloves and Shoes”. It was obvious he (or the he who wrote this) ran out of room with such a long title, but he sat down and read a small note stuck to the first page.

To the Tethers that come after me, I hope these future pages and folders will help you fight back. I advise you to try and add anything of significance to help the others, should these Resets continue. These pages may have additions like the plans and observations I and those before you have written. Learn them well and good luck. That kid needs to be dunked on.

-T of RESET 301

Tether: Let's see what's on these pages.

RESET 301

I followed the human throughout Waterfall. Before all of these, I had noticed something. Frisk had been wielding a pair of chains with a red dagger attached to them. Have they had them before? Did humans have Chain Arts like we do? There's no record of it.

RESET 302

I followed the human throughout Waterfall. Before all of these, I had noticed something. Frisk had been wielding a pair of chains with a red dagger attached to them. I saw them pick up a pair of orange gloves at two different occasions. Once from a box and the other from Victoria's shop. The thief.

RESET 303

I saw them try out the gloves. Unfortunately, they were used on the monsters. Their hits seem to deal a huge amount of damage, but it didn't look like they were using them much.

RESET 304

They've abandoned the gloves. Seems like it was just a test.

RESET 305

I'm not liking that they're doing this with Catena as part of the tests. They keep aiming for his Life Chain around his neck. Whether it's to pull it apart or just....choke him. They're sure determined to end his life... Watch out for the punches. They seem to be rolling with them.

RESET 306

They're using the gloves more. They didn't seem too concerned about the state of their hands.

RESET 307

They seem to be favoring the gloves. They're also wearing an orange bandanna with some lines on them. What are those?

RESET 308

They look stronger than they did before. The gloves are looking dangerous, too. There are orange chains wrapped around them. A new version of Chain Arts?

RESET 309

The human looks like they're starting to lose interest with killing everyone who stayed behind, including Catena. I just hope they lose interest in killing, period.

RESET 310

They've abandoned the gloves and bandanna. They're moving on now. Now's my chance to look at these items closer.

Added: I tried the items on. They did not feel good at all. One, they were worn by that human and two, my base stats rose more than I'd want them to be. I would have found these useful if they weren't just used by a murderer. Considering how they're fighting, I'd say that using these items gives them some sort of boost in stats.

Tether: Huh... So that's why they get stronger? (turns to the next page) Hmm... This looks like the real start of this folder's title.

RESET 311

I'm making my way through Waterfall right now. Because of my grief from Catena's death, I couldn't catch up to the human and study them properly. Sorry.

RESET 312

Had to walk through Waterfall. Been seeing dust mixing into the water and covering the ground. Not really much to write until I catch up with them.

RESET 313

Ended up at the entrance again.

Tether skipped ahead for several pages since they were mostly complaints about how he kept being pushed back to the entrance. The next page put a stop to that.

RESET 324

Managed to get further in without ending up at the entrance. It's faint, but I've been noticing something by my station at the entrance. I've been wondering what it was.

RESET 325

I saw one of those faint things again. I can't tell what they are. They're like lights.

RESET 326

I came across an odd spot on the boardwalk. It was black and dry. I've never seen this before.

RESET 327

I kept moving past a weird spot in the grass area. Cats and I used to play here when we were kids.

RESET 328

Saw another one of those faint lights again. I still don't know what they're for. Weird. They seem to be getting brighter each time.

RESET 329

I saw Frisk use one of those faint lights. Do they know something about them that I don't? I need to study this a little more.

Added: I kept watching them, but I don't see any real significance to the human's actions towards the lights.

RESET 330

I can't believe there are still monsters here! They should have been gone by now. Maybe they stayed behind to give the families some time to escape? If not, then what other purpose is it?

RESET 331

I've entered the Wishing Room. It's really quiet. Like the only thing you can hear is water quiet. Water situation this has turned out to be. We had a chance to live on the surface, but I guess even the real stars can't grant wishes. The surface seems to just be a dream now, while this reality is a complete nightmare.

Tether: ….. (skips a few pages of idle chat before stopping)

RESET 336

I've observed the human having a small concert with Shyren. Nothing out of the ordinary yet. I would have thought tha

Added: I am terribly sorry, but I can't write down my observation for Shyren's battle. The methods the human used to kill her are... not something to be written.

RESET 337

I came across another spot on another boardwalk. This one's bigger than the last one. Compared to my bone-white finger, the color of the substance looks red. The substance in question is undetermined, most likely from a very determined kid.

RESET 338

Saw another light in the garbage dump area. I still haven't pinpointed what they do exactly, but they're starting to become clearer. I came across a dummy with dust coming out of it. There may have been a ghost monster inside it. Judging by how there's dust coming out of it, the ghost may have been corporeal. I wonder if it was able to fight back.

RESET 339

Incorporeal ghosts cannot be harmed, but a corporeal ghost can be. As long as it has a body that is combined with, physical attacks can harm them. I'll remember that if I ever become a ghost. Which is impossible because I'm a skeleton.

Tether: Hmm...Not really much in plans... (skips several pages) ...as there are just observations and random chattering. Did the previous versions of me not get the first one's note? (stops on a page) Hmm... Here we go.

RESET 346

Frisk is fighting Ketju. It looks like they (Frisk) are using some kind of pink shoes. They're also wearing a dusty pink tutu. Ketju looks different as well. Her armor looks spiky. Let's watch the battle unfold.

Added: Based on this round's battle, it looks like Frisk is dodging Ketju's attacks like they're dancing. Whenever Ketju turns Frisk's Soul green, Frisk was able to block most of the moves flawlessly.

Result: Frisk Death

RESET 347

Frisk is steadily catching on, but is still slipping on some attacks. They seem to favor using the tutu/shoes combination, especially when only using their feet to attack. Disturbingly, the dust on them looks like falling snow whenever they move...

Result: Frisk Death

RESET 348

They seem to be studying Ketju's attacks and moving accordingly. She was getting frustrated but very determined. Does Ketju have DETERMINATION?

Result: Ketju Death

Tether (confused): Did she? Why would this one mention that?

RESET 349

The human's moves have become more precise than before. Ketju's having a hard time keeping up. This isn't good...

Result: Ketju Death

RESET 350

The human got violent. I didn't notice before because they were using the dancing items, but two long chains are around them. Does the human have Chain Arts like us? There is no record of humans utilizing Chain Arts.

Caution: There's a chance the human may be learning how to use Chain Arts. Use extreme caution when fighting them.

Result: Ketju Death

Tether (leans back): Learning Chain Arts? Why? (rubs his eye sockets, sighing) This is getting annoying. I'll just skim through these.

Tether got up to retrieve the rest of the folders and spent the rest of the night studying the relevant pages. The RESET Pages 351-400 had 40 pages documenting the Hotland monster fights. During these fights, the human was testing out a pan that looked like that one pan Catena destroyed while he first tried to cook with Ketju and an apron with strange stains on it. The results were terrible. A Pyrope got unraveled, a Vulkin was bashed multiple times, a Tsunderplane had been stabbed out of the air and pulled down, crashing in an explosion, and the two Royal Guards, Royal Guard 01 Moba and Royal Guard 02 Garrett, were both stabbed to dust. Most of the pages had tiny notes saying various things like “Make them stop” and “So much screaming”.

Tether: Those two were lovers, weren't they? …..Can't imagine how that feels...to lose a lover. Maybe like losing a family member...? Hmm...

Tether continued through the pages until he reached the ones which involved Kaede. The notes described something horrifying.

RESET 391

Frisk is not using their weapons! They're using their hands to kill Kaede. Are they trying to see if they can kill this way should their weapons break?

RESET 392

Frisk is still using their hands to pull Kaede's limbs off. They seem to be testing their physical strength. Did Frisk ever needed to use that?

RESET 393

They've started to use their pan. The sounds of metal hitting solid objects, crunching noises, and screaming is heard. Looks like they're smashing some of the spiders, too.

RESET 394

They've been using the pan to

(a long scribble line stretched across the page)

Tether: To what? (flips through four more pages stating the same thing then stops, hands shaking)

RESET 398

THEY'RE EATING THE SPIDERS IN FRONT OF KAEDE

RESET 399

They went back to using the chained knives again. Are they sentient?

RESET 400

THEY'RE EATING KAEDE

Tether just stared at the last page. He didn't eat the rest of his food for the rest of the time. He went to the next folder documenting Chaîne's battle. There was only ten pages in the folder. Most were just complaints about how the previous Tethers didn't want to be in the Core, but two pages caught his attention.

RESET 407

The human is using the stars for something. I keep seeing a black screen pop up whenever they touch them.

Added: Most likely using the HUD. Can't tell what branch they're using since it's quick.

RESET 410

They just shot Chaîne up close. I remembered seeing that gun before in the garbage dump. There was no ammo inside or around it. They didn't even bother with using their knives. Are they at a level where it's not necessary? If they continued to use the gun, they may be materializing the ammo required. How is unknown.

Tether: Wow, no wonder Chaîne got trashed so easily. What's next..? (moves the folder to the last one labeled “MEGALOMANIAC” RESETS 500-600) Megalomaniac? And why did it jump to 500? (gets up and looks through the folders and the cabinet, but nothing was found) Weird. (sits back down and opens the folder; nearly every single page has blotches of purple; an odd wave of nausea ran through him) This is...

The folder contained notes on the battles between Frisk and him. Most of the pages were either covered in purple or barely written. The ones Tether were able to read were very little.

RESET 523

They tried to stab me with a toy knife. It can be very dangerous like their chained knives. Their armor didn't look like much, a pink ribbon was what they wore. Try to stay out of the swing paths of their knives.

RESET 540

They have on pink gloves and a bandanna. Looks like they're throwing punches now. Dodge the punches. Had to throw them everywhere.

RESET 557

They're wearing the pink tutu and dancing shoes this time. They got faster with these and their kicks are swift. Time to do a little footwork myself.

Added: Dodging seems to work.

RESET 568

The human got out their pan and apron. It's odd that there's a heart on the apron. This kid doesn't have one. It looks they're lasting longer than normal. Too bad the Karmic Retribution's kicking their ass. Otherwise, my bony ass is cooked.

RESET 579

They're...screaming at me. What's that going to do? They did try to smack me with a notebook, so I smacked them with a bone. Can they even see me with those clouded glasses?

Added: WHOEVER SAID THE PHRASE “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me” FUCKING LIED!!

Added: Words materialized from the book somehow.

Result: Death

RESET 583

They resetted. I would have figured they'd keep going after killing me that many times. Why? Now they have an odd-looking brown hat and that gun that was supposed to be empty. They really are putting their energy into it, making the bullets. Nearly bit the bullet and the dust there for a moment. Oh well. I got a bigger gun and its name is Bin Bon.

RESET 590

They got a different knife this time, and a gold heart locket. Their hand knife and chain knives look deadlier, too. The blades are red, the actual knife looks red. Everything looks red around them. Isn't that the color of DETERMINATION? If so, then I have to watch out. This kid's got plenty of it.

RESET 598

They've gotten me somehow. They were able to get past my attacks. I thought I saw Catena by the stairs. I need to

Added: The result was my death. Why are they resetting?

RESET 599

I could have sworn I saw the human crying.

RESET 600

There's something black standing behind them

Tether (looks around the room to see if there were more folders and pages, but there wasn't): That's it? That can't be it. There's gotta be more than this! What about that missing section, what Reset am I in?! What black thing? And they cried? How? They never shed a tear once. …..What is going on? (starts cleaning up the mess) From what I've gathered, the human can be strengthened by the weapons and armor they wear, can use Chain Arts somehow, and, by the one who mentioned the “black screen”, can access the HUD. But why? I do remember that Frisk (cringes a little) could only access the HUD, not Chain Arts too. It must have something to do with their LOVE. They were LOVE 19 when we fought and they had three chain knives. What happens if they reach LOVE 20...? (shivers) Don't think I want to find that out. (stops) But....I wonder if they're becoming like us...? (shakes his head) What am I saying, if this is the most I could do, then we're screwed. (sighs) I've done and found all I can. At least I have some idea of what's going on. (gathers his items and leaves the lab, locking the door behind him and walking off to his station)

As Tether headed towards the direction of his Snowdin station, he spotted Catena wandering aimlessly around the Snowball Golf game area until he spotted him. Catena charged at Tether and scooped him up, screeching about how he was worried and been searching for him all day. Tether apologized to him and they both headed home. Before they do, Tether suddenly stopped and looked around nervously.

Catena: IS SOMETHING WRONG, TETHER? YOU LOOK LIKE YOU SAW A GHOST.

Tether (turns to Catena and waves his hand like he's waving a thought away): N-Nah, it's nothing. Just a boo-reeze blowing through me.

Catena: YOU... I SWEAR, YOUR PUNS WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME! (stomps off to the house)

Tether (nervous): Eh heh heh... (glances around for a while then follows Catena)

Far in the distance, deep in the forest between Tether's station and the ruin doors, a shadow had ducked into the trees to keep out of sight.

CONTINUE?