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joz-yyh · 1 year ago

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Rust - Ch. 7

SUMMARY: A “how they got together” and “where they are now” fic in which I detail how Damian and Tardif meet and consequently fall in love. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: EXPLICIT (for violence / sexual themes)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant / Grave Robber x Plague Doctor

WORD COUNT: 5,416

READ ON AO3: Here

A/N: Damian needs to enlist the aid of a fellow hero if he’s going to overcome the nature behind Tardif’s surreptitious injuries. Everything has it’s price, even life itself and Audrey's is last person you want as your enemy.

Feels like this chapter fought with me every step of the way, but I didn't want to keep putting it off until it behaved so this is as finished as it's probably going to get. Lots of injury, spells and wound care. Hope ya'll enjoy!

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Damian stalks his fingers along the severed object embedded in Tardif’s abdomen, the shape of it round like a tusk. He doubts the foreign gouge can be removed conventionally, needing a razor’s edge to cut the gear off of him if he wants to see how deep it runs.

The sheer size of it is worrisome. If this was truly some relic of a creature's tooth or claw, it must've come from something massive and the flagellant cannot place it's origin to any of the foes he knew, wonders what kind of mess Tardif had gotten mixed up in order to end up like this.

“Perhaps you’d be more agreeable to the infirmary," the flagellant presses, anger lines forming on his face, this better to accept than the sadness gripping hold of him.

Even if he assembles some crude means of transport to drag Tardif through the woods, the man had lost too much blood and would not likely survive the trek back to the sanitarium.

“Not … gunna be … poked and prod at," the bounty hunter protests, grumbling weakly, "ye can't anyway. It's ... it's... holdin' everythin' in."

“Holding everything in …,” Damian echoes, his frantic mind steadily piecing the euphemism together.

He can’t remove it, not when it’s the only thing keeping his partner's insides from falling out.

The flagellant no longer cares about being thorough. He gets to work healing what flesh he can, only getting so far before he's repelled, an unseen barrier protecting the object and the eviscerated organs surrounding it. Perplexed, but no less persistent, the morbid priest tries again and again to mend tissue, cauterize veins, and each time he is met with the same unfortunate result.

No ordinary opponent could have done this. A force of darkness so strong that even an oversized piece of shrapnel could command such power spoke of something incredibly evil.

"Tardif, what was your enemy,” Damian insists through a grit of teeth, “Describe it to me.”

"Don't know," the brute churns out, panting with the effort it takes to speak.

"Now is not the time to–” Damian starts, an exhorted cry, but the bounty hunter’s garbled bark interjects him.

"Couldn't see the damn thing," the brute growls, running himself ragged.

The flagellant shakes his head, eyes widening under the shroud of his hood, stumbling upon a realization that devastates him.

“I can’t heal this,” he admits, feeling useless and hating every part of himself that brought them to this point, “There's dark magic here. We need Alhzared."

"Great," Tardif offers sarcastically, fatigue weighing him down, sinking further into his partner's grip, “why didn’t I think of that.”

"I will be quick," the flagellant promises, withdrawing himself from around the bounty hunter, laying him down as considerably as he can.

"Survived this long. What's another 30 minutes," the brute jokes, understandably more irritable than usual as he shifts to lie on his side, bereft of his partner's scaffold of limbs and the comfort it brought.

"Try not to move," comes Damian's propelled instruction, fearing that the stubborn ox would make his condition worse if he lurched around too much.

"Then, don't take too long," the bounty hunter retorts, holding a hand over the hole in his stomach, plugged as it was with the worst kind of cork.

“I won’t,” the pale man pledges, already out the door, his steps beating like swift wings as they carry him into town.

—---

Damian clambers into the barracks, his sprint jostling some of the other heroes from their slumber, knocking into a bed frame, jumping over another's mattress so not to slow himself down.

He's met with resounding groans of annoyance, the squeaks of box springs and the rustling of sheets, but the hasty messenger pays them no mind, finding that the occultist resides the farthest away, against the back wall.

Candles provide a beacon to the pitch blackness, a projection of rotating lights, constellations of stars hung upon tapestries and Persian rugs.

The flagellant skids to a halt once he enters Al's niche, the mystic sitting amidst a collective of pillows, absorbed in meditation.

"Tardif in danger," the priest heaves, having no time for proper sentences being out of breath as he was, "please, help."

The magician inhales deeply, regarding his visitor with sage patience, "The stars spoke of darkness on the horizon. Now I see what form it takes.”

The flagellant cares not for cosmic mythos, not now, not at this moment. He needed action. Every second was another wasted.

"Please, I will do whatever you ask," the flagellant begs, frantic to get moving, "There is no time. He is dying."

"Yes, cursed with a very slow and painful death, I imagine," the mediterranean man nods, opening an enlightening eye, "I warned him not to underestimate the Otherside. See what suffering it brings."

Damian doesn't appreciate that remark, lets it show on his face, not that the other man is bothered by his offenses.

"Will you help us or not," the flagellant insists, unable to quell his anger despite being indebted to this man's eldritch expertise.

“I am not a monster," Al declares, rising from the floor, taking up his effigy from the wooden dias in the center, “I will aid you, but at great cost.”

“I will pay it," Damian vows without hesitation.

“Oh, I have ways that will ensure you do,” the occultist warns, holding out the skull artifact, addressing the holy man with careful instruction. "Place your hand in the flame."

Damian looks down at the haunting relic, sees that it's wick is yet unlit.

"What fla–," the flagellant asks, cut off by a supernatural gust of wind that circles the room, snuffing out what traces of light there was.

"That flame," the mystic explains, a knowing smirk curling beneath his mustache as his spectral phantasm burns brightly, vacant eye sockets flaring eerily along with it.

Damian scowls with uncertainty, the doubt only lasting a moment when he considers what he must do, whose life is at stake.

As soon as his digits are within reach, the flame blazes, his hand consumed within an explosion of pyromancy as if the ghastly fire is alive, sensing his intent.

The flagellant pulls back, the fire making him feel deathly cold as it trails up his arm, turning his skin blue, illuminating the tissue and bone within, but there comes no pain.

“The contract has been made,” Al tells him, the candles returning to their normal steady glow, the skull talisman as well appears as nothing more than a harmless costume prop.

Al chuckles, a cocky triumphant grin, "I didn't expect a warrior of Light to be so quick to offer their soul to my great benefactor, but we thank you for your sacrifice."

Had he really done as the mystic said? Damian looks down at his hand, turning it over. There was no evidence of a pact, no burns, no marks that he could see. One could easily say the seance never happened.

"Come, we must fetch Paracelsus as well," the occultist instructs, calling his attention, “Follow me.”

"Y'LW'NAFH N'GHFT," he chants, gesturing with his hand as a conflagration of sigils appear, manifesting a swirling vortex of time and space.

—

Damian steps through the portal, the Otherside swirling with a darkness blacker than night. The colors are different here, a spectrum of light that functions independently, colossal shadows set against a backdrop of infinite universes.

There are whispers of a language he cannot understand, sounds fading in and out as they traverse through a dimension that has no set physics or rules, a perpetual weather of tumultuous thunder and poisonous smog.

The pulsing tunnel surges, the passage collapsing as he's spat out someplace new, almost familiar, ears popping as they adjust to the temporal displacement. Damian can hear himself talking, the words melting into each other as time stretches on, warping around him before flattening out into something legible.

"Paracelsus, we need your help," the blonde calls out, the distortion closed off, streamlined into the present.

It's dark here too, a bedroom, two lumps hidden under the valley of white sheets arranged in an explicit position. Feminine shrieks follow their candid arrival, an akimbo of limbs, lovers racing to untangle their bodies, rearranging them into something more appropriate for an audience.

Audrey's head is the first to pop out of the sheets, a disgusted sneer on her face as she covers her nude chest in the available linens, exposing the dip of her back as she lights an adjacent table lamp.

"What do you think you're doing,” she demands, a frazzled mess, the grave robber’s spiteful appearance the most feral Damian has ever seen it get.

The priest seems to be in the same state of shock that she is, his face twisting into a portrait of anguish when he remembers why they're here.

“Please," Damian implores, his voice a rusty nail, the words even harder to pry out, "Tardif is dying. We need Paracelsus.”

An unkempt bob of hair pokes out next to Audrey, the doctor in question also in a state of undress, their modest frame slumping against the headboard, pulling the sheets up to their nose.

The grave robber snarls heavily, nursing her sudden migraine. "Really, you have the absolute worst timing," Audrey huffs, glaring at the flagellant in particular, this transgression being the single biggest inconvenience he's made towards her.

"What's he doing here," the grave robber growls, jerking her head in the direction of the shadowy figure lurking behind Damian.

"Me," the magician inquires, coming forward, his kurta illuminated by the yellow lamp light, "Why, I am the taxi," Al explains, a brown hand posed over his chest in introduction, his dignified nose turned up in scholarly pride.

The bandits' green eyes meet enigmatic copper as the two rivals stare at each other, Al reveling in her misfortune while Audrey's hand searches for the dagger stashed under her pillow.

A sentient tug at Audrey's side distracts her, the threads going taunt as Paracelsus inches toward the edge of the mattress, trying to remove themselves from the embarrassing ordeal.

"Quit staring, you perverts," Audrey barks, gripping the first thing her hand lands on, throwing her pillow at the pair of peeping tom's, "give us some privacy."

"Apologies," Damian insists, letting the projectile hit him with solemn remorse (though he would have gladly accepted her dagger as well). He faces away afterwards, gripping the forward bow of his neck.

"Yes, quite," the middleterranean man concurs, doing the same.

Eager to get dressed, Para grabs their discarded robe from off the floor, using it as a limp shield in place of the sheet.

"I'll get my things," the plague doctor says, retrieving their bifocals from off the accompanying side dresser.

Once her girlfriend is safely out of the room, away from their prying eyes, Audrey lets the true extent of her frustration known.

Wrapping the sheet around her, she stands, tucking a wrinkled corner under the fabric at her arm like one would a strapless gown.

"I am so going to pay you back for this," Audrey hisses, her penetrating stare boring holes in the back of Damian's cowl.

"I beg your forgiveness," he tells her, voice aimed towards the wall, "I would not have imposed had I any other choice."

"Save it," the grave robber snaps, thoroughly annoyed, "my night's shot because of you."

The snubbed noblewoman isn't completely unsympathetic. Audrey couldn't imagine how she would react if Para was the one in danger, but that doesn't mean she can't still be mad about her spoiled romance.

If only they knew what pains Audrey had gone through to set this whole night up, if the opened bottle of champagne and the adorning flower petals scattered throughout the room were of any indication.

"Make yourself useful and pass me that bottle," the grave robber orders, hand held out in a clear signal to hurry up.

"Need you a glass, my lady," Al suggests, retrieving the half chilled bottle from the bucket of melted ice.

She snatches it out of his hand, the two men watching as its contents are swallowed down in one long draught, her throat bobbing with the effort.

"What do you think," she growls, wiping at her mouth, seeing no reason to be mannerly.

Para is surprisingly quick, properly geared up in no time at all. It's a good thing too, Audrey is liable to start cracking skulls (possibly with the now empty bottle) the longer she stays in the company of the two party crashers.

"Let's go. I am ready," Para declares, a sturdy medical bag at their side, stripped clean of their earlier embarrassment.

Another rift opens, a swirling galaxy fed by the haunting incantations pouring from the occultist lips, the archaic skull glowing a fierce carmine red.

"You only need think of the place and it will transport us," the magician explains, looking at his hooded counterpart, awaiting his cooperation.

"Do you not control it," the priest asks, recalling that there was no such stipulation before.

"In order for the spell to work, it must be a place I've visited in the past," the mystic reveals, his face a grim, cryptic mask, "yet you are the only one who knows of our destination."

Damian nods his accord, reminded of the occultist’s surreal flame, the way it devoured him, how the sensation still stalks the heckles of his neck.

With a deep inhale, he closes his eyes to focus, reliving the horrific events, a disturbing reel of Tardif spread out on the floor in a grievous scrawl of blood.

"Ah yes, there we are," the mystic cheers, his eyes widening in awe as a rustic image comes into view, the haziness of the conduit sharpening into a clear reflection of a shanty wooden shack.

Damian's eyes open to witness the spectacle for himself, his heart restless, teeming with an unfulfilled desire to be back by his partner's side, advancing toward the gateway without a second thought.

"Wait," the occultist cautions, impeding any further mistakes, "we must join hands before we step through."

The priest is about to question the dodgy amendment, but the plague doctor beats him to it.

"Must we," Para complains, wilting like a dead flower, their entire body crumbling along with the weight of their luggage.

"Only if you prefer being lost to the void," the occultist warns, raising a speculative brow, waiting with a proffered palm.

With a scrub of aggravation, the scholar reluctantly finds Diamian's hand, grasping it weakly with their glove, their mask held down in coerced defeat.

—-

Tardif expected a rescue. What he didn’t expect was a wormhole tearing up his living room.

The bounty hunter shields his eyes as the vortex flickers in between existence, three individuals manifesting in violent flashes of light and peels of phlox wind.

"Glad ye could make it," Tardif greets them, smiling weakly, relief washing over him now that reinforcements had finally arrived. "They brought ye too," the bounty hunter asks, surprised by the plague doctor’s attendance.

"Alhzared said it was necessary," the flagellant explains, stepping between the other two healers to behold the mercenary's state of being with his own eyes.

The two men turned lovers exchange a heartfelt look, Damian seeking amends for the egregious delay, Tardif offering his own disguised conciliation before it's broken by a ripple of pain.

It's a short-lived reunion, Al kneeling down beside the wounded warrior, a contemplative hand curled around his pointed chin. He surveys the severity of the mercenary's condition, guiding his skull idol along the man's body, the empty eye sockets of the ancient relic pulsing like miniature explosions of neon dynamite.

"This is old magic," the mystic muses, the invisible wavelengths matching his own sinister aura, "like my confidant's."

"Oh, goodie,” Tardif jokes, not at all impressed, tired of the continuous string of bad news, “won the fuckin' hell lottery.”

"You done yet, Al," Para growls, knife in hand, their malice just as deadly as the blade, "I am ready to gut him."

"Indeed, something else already has," the occultist remarks, indicating the stinger rending the greater half of the huntsman's abdomen.

"A pity that," Para remarks, lowering their weapon, "could always add another and make them twins."

And here, Tardif thought (albeit foolishly) that they were going to prevent his murder, not finish it out. Similarly, Damian hopes they're joking, blowing off steam as the plucky surgeon so often does (usually at his partner's expense).

Perhaps the doctor is not as stoic about the humiliating blunder as they let on, that the jilted breach of their and Audrey’s relationship had finally caught up, made them more reactive to the jeers and eager for revenge.

The flagellant is ready to intervene should he have to, but for the moment, such feuds are withheld in a silent truce, all eyes transfixed on the magician as he raises his hands skyward, the skull effigy floating above his reach.

Slowly, the stinger is extracted, sigils winding in the air, turning like cogworks and cranks, rearranging the vital flow of energy until the two are separated, free entities once more.

Al wraps the uprooted tusk in cloth, depositing the blood-soaked trophy into his satchel, intending to repurpose it's residual magic into something more archaeologically sound later.

The mystic performs another ritual, reaching further into his range of spells, his restorative techniques always among the more difficult ones to wield.

This powerful gambit was an unreliable cast at best, it's efficacy based more on the blind temperament of the cosmos than it did intrinsic skill, but a sovereign ally when it did land an effective hit.

Today's results are not the worst he's seen, but they are certainly not the best. Most of the bounty hunter's flesh is mended, newly constructed tissue webbing together to fill in the severed pieces, though his skin is still graphic and gaping, incomplete and patchy like a neglected wound.

Tardif erupts in a shrill scream, his limbs jagged and tragic, a crooked frame of deadwood branches.

The dark magic that was once tied to him has gone, it's numbing effects along with it now that the giant suture was removed, a significant portion of pain diluted for a time, but no longer.

"My turn," Para remarks, brandishing their dagger with concerning furor, "Damian hold him down."

The holy man stares, deadpan, in disbelief, "Surely, you'll give him something first," he insists. As much as the flagellant hailed favors of brutality, he did not wish it on others, especially those he cared about.

The bounty hunters' cries escalate, illustrating his affliction, his wild thrashing seeking loose quills of mercy.

"Oh, you're no fun," the plague doctor remarks, the flagellant maiming their excitement with his protest, "hold this."

The holy man doesn't shy away from the blade, fingers wrapping around it’s sharp edges while Paraclesus digs through their supplies for gauze and alcohol.

Finding a sizable hole in one of the mercenary's pant legs, the scholar disinfects the bloody window of tan muscle, injecting him with a sedative.

Slowly, the bounty hunter relaxes, his cries of woe dying down to an uncomfortable grumble, his body twitching with vapid aftershocks.

"There,” Para scoffs, disposing of the used needle, “happy now?”

"Thank you," Damian says, truly grateful for this small clemency, knowing how long his partner must've burned in the fires of agony without the sweetness of release.

The scientist takes the dagger back, using it to cut away at what remains of huntsman's belt and gambeson, giving themselves more room to work.

"Read his pulsepoint,” the doctor instructs, taking up a surgical needle and thread while the flagellant plays nurse, “Count the beats. Tell me if it changes.”

Damian follows their directions, pressing a thumb against the brute’s wrist, a steady thrum drumming back, watching as the surgeon sews up what thews of cleavage the occultist had missed.

Skin is closed in neat little rows, an impressive track of black stitches that are bound and then cut, a poultice spread over the ligatures, a layer of bandages following soon after.

"Done," the plague doctor declares, their gloves thoroughly soaked in blood, face mussed with sweat beneath their mask, "Lets clean him up and move him to the bed."

—-

Damian lays a damp cloth over his partner's naked brow, hoping it's cold comfort will bring him some relief.

The bounty hunter is resting now, having persevered through this trial of flesh and bone, Paraclesus stealing glances at them whilst organizing their instruments.

The priest has not left Tardif's side since they had arrived, doting on the oversized lout every chance he gets.

Usually, the plague doctor wouldn't concern themselves with such observations, but despite everything that had happened in the last few hours, the scientist finds they are not as angry as they should be.

Perhaps after this, Paracelsus could do with showing Audrey more affection, set aside more time to make up for what was so rudely interrupted.

"If he starts to develop a discoloration of the skin, alert me immediately," the medic says, examining their patient from behind Damian's figure.

The holy man hadn't realized they were watching, too lost in a swell of emotions, catching himself flinch because he decided to grasp onto Tardif's hand.

"C-checking his p-pulse," the blonde explains, minimizing his touch, his body language a tight clamp of shoulders and knees.

Paracelsus doesn't comment on it, approaching with black bag in hand, bestowing upon him a small tube of pills.

"They're painkillers," they say, giving the capsules a light shake to draw his attention, "700 milligrams each. Give him one per day."

Damian nods dutifully, receiving their tutor with a courteous smile.

"I'll be back to check on him tomorrow," the plague doctor advises in a civil monotone, "He's going to be tired and sore for the next few days. Let him sleep it off."

Their business concluded, the plague doctor gears their beak in the direction of the occultist's emollient stoop.

"You ready, Al," the medic asks, tired exasperation creeping into their voice.

"Yes, quite," the mystic agrees, his loitering form pushing off the wall, having had enough festivities for one night.

"Thank you," Damian implores, the strength of his empathy palpable as he bids the heroes farewell, "both of you … for saving him."

The two convey their acknowledgment before a cosmic rift consumes them in a swirl of gothic mist.

—-

Para's mask is askew, a stethoscope fitted to their ears, listening close to each of Tardif's deep breaths.

"Your heart sounds good," the medic informs him, packing the device back into their bag, "if you care."

The wounded man grunts, giving them a nonchalant shrug. "Knew that already," he garbles, having lived through enough close calls that he's learned to read his own body without someone running interference.

"I prescribe bedrest for a week at least," they say, optimistic that their bull-headed patient will listen, but unsurprised when he doesn't.

“Unless you'd rather die from pride,” the plague doctor scoffs, finding his machismo discrediting to their own profession, "in which case, do whatever you want.

Not about to let all their hard work go to waste, Para sticks him with a syringe, squadering any temptation he might have to cater to his ego.

Tardif can't watch as the needle pricks the skin of his arm, Paracelsus juicing him up with another shot of morphine. The bounty hunter is no stranger to being cut, but he did have an aversion for being jumped by tiny sharp objects.

A ball of cotton and medical tape are sealed over the puncture mark, the bounty hunter rubbing his fingers across the skin beneath it in irritation.

“I’d die from bedrest,” Tardif snaps, the hairs on his arms bristling with hostility.

“I am sure Damian would keep you company,” The plague doctor retorts, a cheeky accusation that renders the inflated brute immediately silent.

He knows the flagellant did it to save him, but the bounty hunter is reminded that two more people have seen his face, that he would have to trust Al and the doc to keep his secret. It's exactly the kind of risk he doesn't like to take.

“Then it’s settled," the plague doctor exclaims, taking advantage of this self-imposed obedience, smacking their clothed thighs in emphasis. "I'll mix up some more tonic to help you sleep.”

Tardif grunts half-heartedly, his selective hearing only discerning the bribe of melatonin.

“Paracelsus,” the brute grunts, suddenly struck with something to say now that his friend was about to depart.

“Hmm,” the scholar hums, staying their leave.

After several begrudging seconds, the man finally manages a weak, “Thank you.”

Their beak dips in a curt nod, facing him fully with a strict enunciation for certain keywords, “You can thank me once you're healed. Until then, rest.”

With that, the medic meets Damian on their way out, the man anxiously awaiting their report.

"How is he," the holy man asks, keeping his voice low, a whisper.

Para sighs. The flagellant could have just as easily sat in for the checkup and saved them the trouble, but he was insistent about giving Tardif his privacy. Forget that the priest would hang onto his every breath whenever he was asleep.

"As well as can be expected," the scholar says, having nothing noteworthy to add other than Tardif's poor attitude being an enemy to the healing process, but they weren’t about to tell him that. "Did you get the herbs?"

"Yes," the holy man declares, holding a small bouquet of them in his hand.

"Grind them with the mortar and pestle,” the herbalist informs him, “Then, stir it into his tea once a day until the supply runs out. It'll lower his chances of infection."

Damian nods in response, ready to carry out this task as thoroughly as he did everything else.

"I'll leave you to it, then," they say, finding the occultist waiting for them near the door.

As the two supporting heroes are transported away, Damian is left alone with his thoughts.

He stops by the counter to set the herbs down, occupying himself with pacing back and forth, whittling grooves in the cabin floor because every time he makes an attempt to visit the bedroom, he always thinks better of it and turns back around.

"No use hangin' out by the door," the bounty hunter grumbles, a mild invitation cloaked in sheer practicality.

Looming just out of sight, ripe with hesitation, Damian gasps lightly. Even with the wall dividing them, Tardif still knew he was there, waiting on the other side.

The priest keeps his head bowed as he plods into the bedroom, the cowl seeming to eclipse his whole face, fearful of what emotion his presence would have on the bounty hunter.

"H-how are you fairing," parses the flagellant, hovering outside the bed, keeping his distance as they exchange platitudes.

He's nervous. Tardif can see it in his every move.

"I've had worse days," the brute shrugs, a lame smirk tugging at his lips with no humor to accompany it.

"Paracelsus said you should stay in bed," Damian reminds him, trying to play along with the levity, force a smile, but it doesn't keep. "I meant to take care of you, change your bandages."

This time, Tardif is the one who bows his head, his gaze fixated on the sheets pooling in his lap, the clench of his own fists that rest there.

"Guess ye have the gift of prophecy," the bounty hunter scoffs, now staring at the wall ahead with a moderate degree of contempt.

Damian frowns, inclining his neck, clearly befuddled by the insinuation.

"Ye don't remember," Tardif asks, surprised, angling his focus towards the absent-minded priest. "In the weald," the mercenary continues, the occasion forever branded onto his memory, "when ye held a knife to me, tottin' leeches and bedrest?"

Ah, that. A scarred mouth opens to speak, then closes again. He can't seem to stop his shameful eyes from drifting toward the floor, jagged fingernails digging into the muscle of his right arm, clutched in punishment.

"I did not mean--" Damian finally starts, but the bounty hunter is quick to correct him.

"Heh, I know," he chuckles weakly, "Bad joke."

The flagellant isn't laughing. If anything the somber daze surrounding him grows deeper, more profound.

Damian risks treading closer, the brute turning to meet him, receptive and curious of his intentions.

A bloody hand reaches out as the taller male leans over the mattress, thumbing across the faint sheen of sweat collecting on the crest of dark brows.

Tardif is on the tail end of a fever, the priest can feel traces of it as he threads each tousled strand back into the damp plume of raven-colored hair.

Mismatched eyes close amidst the gentle pandering, the brigand becoming a meek disciple under these ministrations, letting his partner bless him with whatever tender ritual he wished.

Damian swallows, the action audible in the heavy silence. These informal gestures of trust fill him with such unabashed longing he can barely contain it.

"Let me get you something to drink," the blonde says, giving himself an excuse to pull away, mask his own desire for closeness just as another hair falls out of place.

A callous hand grasps at his wrist, warm and grounding as it tacitly holds him there.

"Just a little longer," Tardif asks, ruining the flagellant with those words, that beautiful aching smile.

This alone was enough to say what went unsaid, that Tardif still wanted him near.

The dam breaks, Damian's composure along with it as he falls to his knees, Tardif's hand now cradled in both of his, pressing them to his head like a crucifix in prayer.

"Where did you go," Damian sobs, a desperate slew of questions borne from his troubled mind, "Why did you leave?"

Tardif feels shame claim him as he considers the answer, letting precious seconds tick by, unable to voice what his partner wants to know because he's not ready to admit it, not even to himself.

"I feared the worst," the blonde continues when the other will not, his repressed feelings stripped bare, "I-I prayed for you I–"

"It's not important," the mercenary deflects, a curt grind of teeth. His insides squirm with a self-loathing sickness, knowing Damian weeps because of him.

"Of course it is," Damian insists, finally looking up from his own tortured lament, "I–I …!"

He's too afraid of what comes next, his throat closing too tightly around the words, leaving them there to trickle down and die.

"Later …," Tardif mumbles, growing weary thanks to the plague doctor's potent syringe, "… too tired now."

Damian goes quiet, blinking one last band of tears, nodding in obedience.

"Lay beside me," the bounty hunter tells him, slouching with disoriented cognition, shifting to make room on the bed.

Damian hesitates, weary of upsetting his partner's wounds even as Tardif tugs on his hand to join him.

"But your–"

"It'll help me sleep," the bounty hunter explains, distantly, his eyelids already getting heavy with the abetting cocktail of drugs in his system.

As awkward as it is, the flagellant doesn't let go of his lover's hand as he climbs into bed, mindful that none of his other body parts touch Tardif's, his scarred back curled towards the edge of the mattress.

As Damian lies there, he listens, waiting for heavy breaths to even out, squeezing at the thick fingers clasped in his, proof that this man was still here with him: real and alive.

Perhaps, it is out of mere reflex, a lucid dream that his gesture is returned, but the flagellant doesn't care, he smiles all the same as he presses a surly hand to his lips, kissing the backs of tattooed knuckles.

He swears he catches Tardif smiling too, the sight filling him with a weightless salvation, a sense of belonging, knowing that this angel of death and carnage had come back to him.

The priest's eyes fall shut, meaning just to rest them, but before he knows it, he's already fast asleep.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

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Say, could you write some headcanons for Monty, Chica, & Roxy meeting a dullahan reader? They always wear a bandana to hide the fact that their head isn't exactly attached, always carrying few spares in case of emergencies(jerks taking it for 'fun'). At one point they bend down to pick something up & someone bumps into them, knocking their head from their shoulders. They sometimes juggle their head when bored & making every joke about losing their head & being a dullahan known to humanity.

Monty

You’re just a dullahan trying to fit in with humans--by playing Monty Golf regularly at the Pizzaplex. Humans liked golfing. It was calming and competitive. You liked that.

Monty recognizes you by the gator-themed bandanna you always wear, never seeing you without it. He thinks it’s badass and isn’t one to judge.

One day he’s signing a golf club for you and some stupid kid runs over waving theirs around, bumping into you.

Immediately your head tumbles off, and they scream and run away crying.

Monty’s shocked when he sees you moving around. How are you not dead???

He sees you patting the ground, realizing you’re looking for your head (which is an inch away from falling into the water).

Despite being a bit squicked he toughens up and grabs it, gently handing it back to you. “This yours?”

“Oh, thank you, Monty! If it weren’t for you, I’d have to put on my backup. It’s a pain in the neck. y’know.” You casually juggle your head before putting it back on, while he looks at you over his sunglasses, mortified.

“Wait whatdya mean by “backup”???”

Glamrock Chica

You know the incident report where Chica’s voicebox malfunctioned, made the server STAFF bots go haywire, and cause numerous injuries to guests?

Well, you happened to be an unfortunate victim. You just wanted to eat some pizza (as you’ve come to adore this human food) and chill out with your favorite chicken animatronic, but a tray goes flying at your head and knocks it off.

Thankfully nobody notices since it’s so chaotic, but Chica does and she’s horrified.

Later when she’s repaired and allowed to walk around, she finds you alive but...strangely you have a different head. Like a Halloween mask.

She clearly saw you get decapitated though??? So she goes over to ask if you’re okay.

“Oh! Yeah I am. I’m used to it.”

She’s so confused. And you explain you’re a dullahan.

Only then does she calm down, still feeling a little guilty you lost a head because of her.

“Don’t worry. It happens all the time. Good thing I always plan a-head in case of emergencies.” You chuckle as you show her your stash of spare heads and bandannas.

She doesn’t know what to think of your morbid humor. But hey, at least you’re able to make light of situations.

Roxanne Wolf

You decide to try out Roxy Raceway even though it’s probably a bad idea.

But when the wolf herself challenged you, you simply couldn’t decline.

“Don’t lose your head, kid.” She grins as you both wait for the light to turn green.

“Hope not.” You laugh. “Or else that’ll be the third one this week.”

“....wait huh-”

But the race begins and you take off, leaving her in the dust for once. But she quickly recovers and catches up.

All in all it’s a fun race and you didn’t lose your head this time.

Though the moment you get out of the kart, some kid bumped into you trying to get Roxy’s autograph and accidentally knocked your head off, sending it down into the sinkhole below the Plex. Never to be seen again.

‘Goddamn it WHY-’

Roxy’s a bit freaked out herself, but you manage to explain that you need your bag and she retrieves it for you.

Once your spare head is put on you huff and properly introduce yourself as a dullahan.

You expect her to call you weird or creepy but her reaction is “omg I finally get the joke” and chuckles.

#clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf sb x reader #fnaf security breach x reader #glamrock chica #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #dullahan #monster reader #headcanons #platonic

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souichioneshots · 3 years ago

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Grim Reaper 【Souichi x Reader】 (Fluff)

Souichi claims he's been cursed. Now everything he touches dies! However, that doesn't stop him from spending time with you. Can you hold back from touching the boy and dying? Let's find out~~~!! ahahaha

(I think this counts as affectionate!reader but idk lol)

Souichi carefully held onto the drink in his hand as he sat back down in between your legs.

Resting his body against your soft chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist. He was completely engulfed by your love. Although he was a bit embarrassed at first by how affectionate you could be, it had become a habit for him to want to be so close to you all the time.

【And now back to ‘DEATH’S ASSISTANT’】

Souichi took a sip of his drink as the show you two had been hooked on recently started back up.

It was a Japanese drama about a Grim Reaper who had been assigned a foreign assistant. Apparently, they fell for one another as soon as their eyes met. Every day they tell each other how much they love one another, but because of Death’s curse, he is unable to touch his love. The show depicts their everyday work lives. Showing how far they would go for one another to prove their love, but never being able to be truly affectionate. Souichi wasn’t really into these types of lovey-dovey dramas, but the supernatural antics that it included drew him in deeper and deeper.

【Assistant, we cant! You know if we touch, you’ll die!】

【I would risk dying a million times just to feel your lips pressed against mine even just once, Death~.】

“Guuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!”

Souichi laughed as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. The scene was so cheesy and overdone, but you loved it. For a morbid girl, you really were a sucker for love stories.

“You’re gonna miss the show if you don’t look up.” Souichi chuckle and patted your head.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you continued to watch the last few minutes left of the drama.

“Death really outdid it with his outfit today, huh?” Souichi commented.

In today’s episode, Death had been wearing a bright red suit with a black suit-shirt instead of his usual black suit and black tie.

“I think it really suits him.”

“You think everything suits him.”

“Of course. If you’re handsome, then anything and everything looks good on you.”

Souichi lifted his shoulder up towards his head, squishing your face against him.

“Owwww Owowowow!!”

“What’s so handsome about that old actor?”

Souichi finally released the pressure, allowing you to relax.

Pulling your head away from his body, you rubbed your cheeks.

“Hmm…Well, for one his eyes are absolutely beautiful. Thin, sharp, and the dark circles around them make him look so mysterious. And his dark, wavy hair looks so soft! I just want to run my hands through it as mess it up even more.”

Souichi couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you described what you found attractive about the ‘dreamy man’ on the television. He honestly felt like you were just describing him. He knew you must have a type, but he didn’t think it would be this similar to him every time. You must have felt like you won the jackpot with him.

“But what I really like is the fact that he’s always wearing a suit.” Wrapping your arms back around his waist, you squeezed him a bit “You can tell his assistant also thinks the same thing because she's always staring at him. She just wants to touch him soooo much. But she knows she'll die if she does! Haa~~ I love it!”

Souichi hummed in amusement as he listened to you speak.

Seeing that he fit all the other conditions you looked for in a guy, Souichi thought of a perfect way he could use this little fantasy you love so much for his amusement.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

When the next night came, Souichi quickly got to preparing himself. He had asked if he could go over to watch a movie tonight.

He usually didn’t pay much attention to what he wore whenever he hung out alone with you. But tonight, he decided to mix things up a bit.

Making sure he had everything he needed in his pockets, Souichi set off to your house.

Creepily excited laughter slipped from the boy’s lips as he walked down the street by himself. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction when you laid your eyes upon him.

Finally reaching your front door, he knocked.

“Good evening~” Souichi greeted as you opened the door.

Before you could greet the boy back, you froze. Your mouth gaped open and your eyes widened as you looked upon your boyfriend.

“S…SS..S-Suit..Suitsuitsuit…” You brought your hands up to your face, unsure where to place them. This was the first time you had ever seen him wearing such an outfit before.

Finally bringing your hands out towards Souichi, you tried to touch him.

“Ah!” Souichi quickly jumped back. “You can’t.”

A look of worry and confusion grew on your face as the boy rejected your touch.

“Remember when I called you this morning and said I might have messed up a curse?”

You shook your head yes.

“Well, it turns out that as a side effect, whatever I touch now dies almost immediately.”

Leaning against the doorframe, you looked at the boy with a smile of disbelief.

“You’re just copying ‘Death’s Assistant’ aren’t you.”

Souichi hated how well you could read him. But that didn’t mean he was going to admit that you were right. At least not right now.

“No! I swear.” Sliding one hand into his suit pocket, he leaned down onto the grass that covered your front yard. “Every time I touch something as delicate as a flower…” Pulling out his hand from his pocket, he placed it over a daisy that had been growing for some time. “Well... This happens.” Moving back up, Souichi revealed that the flower he touched had shriveled up and died.

“No way…” You whispered as he allowed the dead flower to trickle onto the palm on your hands.

“Yeah…It’s a bummer.” Placing his foot over the real flower still planted in the ground, he tried to hide the evidence. “But I’m sure this curse will wear off by next week. 2 weeks at most.”

You quickly moved to the side as Souichi let himself into your home.

“What are you doing? Wouldn’t it be dangerous for us to be together right now?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. As long as we don’t touch that is.” Giving you a smile, Souichi kicked off his shoes and made his way down to your bedroom.

As the raven-haired boy walked down the hall, he moved his hands close to the wall, just barely coming into contact with the wallpaper. He honestly thought it would be really cool if he could make the wallpaper roll up and crumble into pieces just from touching it. Just like in the drama. Perhaps there really was a curse out there that would give him that ability.

Finally reaching your room, he took ahold of the door handle and gestured for you to go in first. Being in a suit really did make him feel like more of a gentleman. It was kind of fun.

Sitting on your bed, Souichi watched as you set up the DVD player.

He tried to hold back his foolish laughter as he thought about how miserable you were going to be all night from not being able to touch him.

You. The girl who could barely go 5 minutes without at least leaning against his shoulder, was now being forced to keep her hands to herself in order to avoid never waking up again.

This was gonna be hilarious.

“So, lemme ask you.” You pulled the boy out of his own little world as you sat on the bed with him. “Why the suit?”

“The suit? Oh. Umm…” Souichi’s mind froze for a second. He was going to say an excuse that all his other clothes suddenly turn to dust when he touched them, but now that sounded extremely stupid and unbelievable. Especially since he was able to touch your bedsheets with no problem. “…To match the whole ‘death’ theme...”

“Oh~ That makes sense. Always gotta be prepared for a funeral when everything you touch dies, right?”

“Exactly!”

Souichi let out a small sigh of relief as you commented an equally believable reason for the suit. He was glad you were almost always on the same level as him.

Finally dropping the subject, you pressed the button on the remote for the movie to play.

Souichi tapped his finger against the bed in annoyance as you kept a good amount of distance from him. It didn’t seem like you would try to touch him any time soon.

Looks like he needed to take things up a notch if he wanted to have some real fun.

Leaning forward, he swiftly took off his black jacket. You quickly ducked as his hand almost came in contact with your head.

Leaning his arm on your pillow, he relaxed his body. A single nail stayed poking out from between his lips, making it look like he was smoking.

Souichi couldn't help but smile as he saw you take quick glances at him. Your eyes kept moving from his pants to his white suit shirt, and finally to his face. He could see a blush spread across your cheeks as you quickly turned away from him, avoiding his gaze. You looked completely head over heels for him.

Sliding to the side, you leaned ever so close to the boy.

“Does the ‘being killed on the spot’ rule apply even over clothes~?” A blush spread across his pale face as you whispered in his ear, making sure not to come into direct contact with his shoulder. He could see your hand hovering over his suit pants, craving to touch the expensive-looking material.

Did you really not believe him or were you just begging to die?

Moving a bit away from you, he replied. “Probably not a good idea. Haven’t tested that out yet…” He let out a little laugh as he mentioned how awkward it would be for him to have to wake up your family and tell them that he killed you by accident.

Souichi looked from the corner of his eyes as you let out a small sigh and moved back into your own little space. This sudden rule of no touching looked like it was taking a toll on you.

Honestly, he was expecting you to be a bit more excited by this situation. After all, this was one of your favorite fantasies. To love one another, but never be able to touch unless you were willing to die on the spot. You should be spewing cheesy lines like in the drama, not sulking.

Moving the nails against his teeth, he tried to think of a way to fix things. After all, this wouldn’t be fun if you got too sad and decided to stop acting like your usual self halfway through the night.

Moving his arm out towards you, he pulled on the edge of his suit jacket.

“I think it’d be fine if you held onto this though…” He turned his face to the side, trying to hide his blush as you smiled once again.

Throughout the movie, Souichi kept his arm up in the air as you happily held onto his jacket. His body felt oddly unsatisfied from not being properly touched by you. But, this was his own fault for deciding to go through with such a cold prank.

You both stayed surprisingly calm and silent as the movie played on.

Souichi kept the nails in his mouth pressed tightly against his teeth as he kept his eyes on the screen. The movie you chose wasn’t half bad at all. The effects, the props, the acting. All very realistic. To be expected from new foreign movies.

However, this feeling of calmness didn’t last long as an unnecessarily long make-out scene between the main characters had started up again. Another specialty of foreign horror movies. The acting for these scenes just had to be extremely believable as well…

Souichi tensed up a bit as he felt you let go of his jacket, finally allowing him to rest his hand back down near his body.

It wasn’t that he disliked these types of scenes. But something about watching them alone with you always made him feel a bit restless.

Souichi moved his legs closer to his body, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He really regretted starting this whole ‘touch me and you’ll die’ prank now.

Pulling on the black-tie wrapped around his neck, he tried to calm himself down.

“People get really horny right before they die, huh?…”

Souichi noticed you jolt a bit at the sound of his voice. All he got in response from you was a little ‘yeah’ and an awkward laugh.

As the teens on the screen started to undress, Souichi noticed you also start to fidget around in your spot. You looked like you wanted to sit closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t.

Shakily bringing your hand over his leg again, you whispered. “Are you sure I’ll die if I touch you over your clothes?...”

This time he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just moved his leg closer to you, giving you an okay to try and touch him.

He watched as you cautiously placed the tips of your fingers on his knee. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized you were going to die from touching him over his clothes.

Careful not to accidentally touch any part of his body not covered by his clothes, you turned towards his.

Pinching the fabric of his suit jacket, you pulled his hand up. Souichi’s heartbeat sped up as you moved his bare hand to touch your clothed breast.

“Looks like it works both ways. As long as your skin doesn’t come into direct contact with mine, I’ll be just fine.”

Souichi’s eyes followed your hands as they moved back towards his pants once more.

You were really pushing the envelope.

But, if you were gonna play like that, then he saw no harm in playing along as well.

Sliding his hand down from your chest to your waist, he pulled you to come closer to him.

“That means we can’t do anything more than this though…” Souichi whisper as he inched his face closer to yours. “We should stop now before we do something that can’t be undone.” He teased you with lies, practically ordering you to go further.

“You don’t wanna die from one of my curses, do you?”

“It’d be a blessing to die from one of your curses…”

Something within Souichi switched on as he heard you whisper your confession to him. That felt like the most romantic thing you'd ever said to him.

Without saying another word, Souichi pressed his lips against yours. To think he was the one who ended up not being able to hold back from you this time.

Suddenly, pressing your hands against his shoulder, you pushed yourself away from the kiss.

“Agk! My heart!” Holding your hand against your chest, you threw yourself back to lay on the bed. “I…I!!! Gah…”

Souichi couldn’t help but laugh as you pretended to die in an over-exaggerated manner.

You opened one of your eyes, looked at the boy, and then closed it again. Souichi could see you trying your best to hold back a smile as you laid perfectly still.

“You knew I wasn’t cursed the entire time, didn’t you?”

“...Was it that obvious?” You laughed a bit as you finally sat back up.

“When did you figure out I was lying?”

“Hmm~”

You just hummed and swayed your head side to side. Not telling him when you knew for a fact he was not actually cursed.

“If I can be honest, you should have said something more believable for the suit. Then maybe I would have believed you completely." Leaning up against the boy you thought for a second. "Like umm... All your other clothes disintegrated the second you touched them. But because you've worn this suit to a funeral before, it was the only thing that stayed intact."

"Ahh!! I swear I was gonna say that!!"

You let out a hum and looked at the boy once again with a smile of disbelief.

"I swear!"

Getting up from the bed, he put on his suit jacket again.

"Let's restart." He sat back down on the edge of your bed. "Ask me why I'm wearing a suit."

"Okay." You also moved to sit on the edge, next to him. "Hey, Souichi. Why are you--" Unconsciously, your hand brushed up against his. "AGK!" You threw your body back and pretended to die again.

"No!! Y/N!!" He picked you up by your shoulders and forced you to sit back up. "Again."

As his hands moved away from your shoulders, he accidentally touched your neck. Making you jump back again.

"Agggkk!!"

"Stop dying!!" He yelled as you held your hand up to your neck and pretended to choke and die.

Souichi let out a loud groan as you continued to laugh at his frustrated expression.

This prank wasn't as funny as he thought it would be.

#souichi x reader #souichi tsujii x reader #fluff #this is stupid #but oh well #lots of misspells for sure #but i tried man #10 pages of work is a pain to check

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realcube · 4 years ago

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HQ BOYS REACT TO YOU FAKE CRYING

characters ♡ yaku, kenma, kayegama & iwaizumi

content warning ♡ fake crying, mentions of murder, hurt/comfort, fluff & timeskip! iwaizumi (no mature themes, just domesticity)

credit ♡ thank you to 🍦anon for this request

morinosuke yaku

♡ why did you need to need to practise in the bedroom?? in his bedroom, no less

♡ your show was quickly approaching and you recalled the scene where you were to burst out into tears on stage, and you hadn’t yet rehearsed how you were going to do that

♡ honestly, you were under the assumtion that yaku would have no problem with you practising while in his bedroom bc he has ran lines with you in the past and this was hardly any different

♡ so sat, thinking about the most horrible, morbid, grotesque things you possible could, all while keeping your eyes wide open and not blinking so soon enough, the tears started rolling

♡ proud of yourself, you smirked before burying your face into your hands; now to add sobs!

♡ it started out with mere snivels but then as you got more confident, it built up to full on bawls which were loud enough to gain yaku’s attention from the kitchen

♡ he was quick to rush over to his bedroom, his soul audibly leaving his body when he saw your upset weeping figure on the bed

♡ he basically pounced on you and engulfed you with his embrace, ‘dear! what’s wrong? are you alright? who hurt you?!’ the questions were fast falling off his tongue as cradled your head, leaving no room for you to speak without being muffled by his chest or arms

♡ and when he noticed that you were trying to speak, he simply hushed you, ‘shh! it’s okay, dearest.’ and continued to whisper ‘comforting’ stuff like that in your ear

♡ he thought he was helping but really he was just preventing you from getting you point across

♡ eventually, you managed to escape his steel grip and gasp, ‘yaku! i’m fine! look — no tears!” you gestured to you damp cheek, “i was just practising for my role! i’m not actually sad. though, it’s cute that you care so mu--”

♡ as soon as yaku heard the word ‘practising’ he immediately recalled how you mention you have a sad scene where you need to cry and his natural reflex was to lean backwards, grab a massive teddy bear that sat behind him which he had won at a carnival for you but you insisted that he keep it bc you didn’t want to carry it home

♡ ...and he threw it straight at you, causing you to fall backwards and burst out laughing at how you were currently being straddled by a big teddy bear

♡ ‘(y/n)! i thought you were hurt! you can’t just fake cry without telling me first- i was so worried! like i thought it was real and--’ this went on for an elongated amount of time, yaku ranting while you added a faint ‘sorry!’ whenever you saw the opportunity

♡ eventually, he stopped only to take a deep breath, visibly calming doing as his chest heaved, ‘alright. what’s done is done; it’s fine. you worried me though, (y/n). i thought you were being for real, what then?’

♡ you nodded, smiling at his softened expression as your lips twisted into a smirk at his final comment. cocking a brow, you purred, ‘so...you think i’m a good actor? tha--’

♡ pow! another plushie to the face! K.O!

kenma kuzome

♡ as a joke, you dabbed water under your eyes a few times so you could send your friend a snap of you ‘crying’ and ofc kenma had to walk in at exactly the wrong time

♡ you were over at his house, chilling on his couch while he was upstairs talking to kuroo over the phone— he said he’d only be a moment but almost half an hour had passed and he still showed no sign of coming back downstairs, though you couldn’t blame him as kuroo does have a tendency to be overly descriptive when spilling tea

♡ anyway, as soon as you had sent your snap, you placed your phone down and scanned the room in search of some tissues to wipe you eyes with, when kenma barged in

♡ ‘hey, (y/n). i’m sorry that took so lo--’ when his gaze shifted from his phone onto you, sitting on the couch with tears streaming down your cheeks, he immediately cut himself off

♡ at first, you were frozen, simply staring at each other; as if he had just walked in on you committing a violent act of homicide in his living room

♡ honestly you were too stunned to move at first but if you could, you’d probably say something along the lines of ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ but before you could even open your mouth, kenma edged towards you until he was able to outstretch his arms and wrap you in his warm embrace

♡ with your cheek pressed against his warm hoodie, basking in an uncommon blissful silence, you postponed your explanation until you were finished enjoyed how his nimble fingers caressed your back

♡ you hummed, your lips curling a smile at how comfortable you felt in his arms and how nice his hoodie smelt, since it usually reeked of an unholy mixture of body spray and monster energy

♡ he planted a kiss upon your head, murmuring into your hair, ‘baby, what’s wrong?’

♡ you were quick to swipe away your ‘tears’ with the back of your hand, ‘i’m fine, don’t worry.” you chirped, beaming at him to reinforce this point, ‘it’s just water, for a silly video i sent to my friends.’

♡ kenma blinked rapidly, staring down at your seemingly genuine smile

♡ honestly, you expected him to tease you or be irritated that you made him reveal a hidden soft side of himself for no reason, since he’s usually quite private with his emotions

♡ but instead, the corners of his lips just lifted into a slight smile as pushed your head back against his chest, then resting his head upon yours, ‘oh, that’s cool.’ he breathed, his warm, calming voice causing your eyelids to become heavy — that and the fact you had went on a run not too long ago

♡ kenma felt your eyes flutter shut against his chest so he slowly leaned backwards, holding you against his hoodie as he laid down, allowing himself to doze off with you snuggled up on his heaving torso

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you were making iwaizumi dinner, cutting onions and cooking curry

♡ so it was not surprising when tears started brimmed at your eyes, eventually slipping from your lashline and trickling down the soft skin of your cheeks, leaving you to blink rapidly to lubricate your burning eyes

♡ iwaizumi had just came out the shower, he had dried off but when he came downstairs and peered into the kitchen, he was wearing just a towel which was draped around his hips, ‘mm, something smells good. whatcha cookin’, baby?’

♡ he didn’t plan on staying downstairs for long, which is why he didn’t throw on a shirt; all he wanted to do was get to the bottom of what that magnificent aroma was that he smelled from upstairs, then once he figured it out, he’d go back upstairs, get changed, then head back down for dinner

♡ but his plan was cut short when he noticed crystalline tears pouring from your red, puffy eyes

♡ without thinking or taking into consideration why your eyes are red, his immediate reaction was to dash over to your side and slip his arms around your waist, puling you in so that one of your hands had no choice but to rest on his back while the other continued to stir the pot

♡ noticing that your watery eyes were still fixated on the curry, he took your chin inbtween his fingers and forced you to cook at him, ‘why’s my angel crying? hm?’ he cooed, features painted with genuine worry and concern

♡ you lifted a brow, stifling a chuckle at how silly he was being, ‘what do you mean?’

♡ before you could process anything else, iwaizumi bought you in for a passionate kiss with the his hand pressing against the small of your back, only pulling away so he could rest his head on your shoulder and hum into your ear, ‘you can tell me anything, angel, so what’s on your mind?’

♡ you bottom lip quivered at his intimate action — you might just start crying for real

♡ biting your bottom lip, you resisted your tears and forced out a laugh, ‘what’s on my mind? well,’ you started, momentarily letting go of the ladle so you could hug back, ‘i have to make dinner for my himbo husband, but the onions and spices are burning my eyes. pray for me, iwa.’

♡ it took him a moment to register what you just said. he’d been in the kitchen many times so by now he was basically immune to the way onions and spices affect the eyes, so he completely forgot that stuff like that happens. he honestly, wholeheartedly thought that you were crying real tears of sadness while making dinner

♡ he impulsively pushed you away, crossing his arms over his chest and his initial kind expression lowering into a scowl, ‘who are you calling a himbo?! i just forgot that some people have weak-ass eyes. bye.’ he spat, clearly trying his best not to laugh as he stormed off to his room, keeping a firm grip on his towel the whole time

♡ don’t worry, though. he was back ten minutes later — fully clothed — to eat dinner with you :))

♡ but don’t mention it ever again or else he’ll blush and tell you it ever happened

tobio kageyama

♡ you were scrolling on your fyp and found a video of a person explaining how to cry on command and you didn’t believe it’d actually work so you tried it

♡ as it turns out, it does work and now you are sitting on your bed with tear stained cheeks and a dry throat, completely zoned out until kageyama came marching into your bedroom

♡ it was in that moment that you recalled that you had invited him over for a movie night and you had left your front door unlocked for him, hence he must’ve invited himself in

♡ ‘sorry i’m late, but i brought doritos.’ he spun on heels after closing the door, doritos in hand but not for long because as soon as he noticed your cheek glistening the lamplight, he instantly dropped them to rush over to you

♡ ‘eh? (y/n)? are you crying?’ he asked with a harsh voice, which wouldn’t help if you really were crying. instinctively, he reached out for your hand and began pressing kisses to the back of it

♡ he wasn’t really too sure on what exactly he could do or say to comfort you, so he recollected on the time you tried to cheer him up after he lost a big game. you lay beside him on his bed, humming a distant tune that matched the one playing in his ear from his earbuds. one hand threading through his hair while the other cupped his cheek so you could press occasional, soft kisses on his cheek while he set to himself. it was calming, and it definitely worked in making him feel better. usually, it’d take him months to recover after a devastating loss like that, but with you by his side and giving him support, he was back to his normal self in a couple weeks

♡ well, as normal as it gets for kageyama

♡ you gently shook your head, admiring his adorable actions and allowing his to continue as you used your spare hand to wipe away your artificial tears

♡ ‘oh, sweetie, i love you so much.’ you mused, thinking up a way to start your story without sounding foolish

♡ but perhaps you shouldn’t have began your explanation with a term of endearment as his impulse with to promptly throw his arms around you, holding onto your torso tightly

♡ you were taken back for moment, wheezing slightly as kageyama squeezed the air out of you but finally able to speak once he relaxed his arms, ‘tobio! nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. i was just testing to see if i could fake cry or not. i’m not actually crying.’

♡ kageyama’s eyes widened and he paled

♡ you weren’t actually in need of comfort? then why did he just get all soft? for nothing?

♡ ‘no.’ was his simple response which he punctuated with another kiss on the back of your hand

♡ you couldn’t help but giggle, taking advantage of this opperuntiy to reach out and ruffle his hair, ‘yes. i’m seriously okay. i’m happy, actually, because i get to spend my evening watching movies with you!’

♡ surprisngly, he didn’t glare at you for messing up his hair — since it was already untidy — and just took a seat beside you, keeping ahold of your hand as if it was a fragile gem, ‘i don’t believe you.’

♡ you laughed, realising that he was clearly making excuses for openly showing affection and being soft so you just let him, hopping to your feet and tugging your hand away from him so you could grab the doritos he dropped, ‘whatever you say, tobio.’

♡ he pouted but it was only brief as he was soon able to take your hand once more, ‘yeah..’ he grunted, averting his eyes so you didn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks, ‘whatever, just put on the stupid movie...stupid (y/n)...i love you..’

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killian-spey · 4 years ago

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Death Would Be Kinder [Ch. 2]

Prev. Ch.

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 2276

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad. This chapter takes place during [BtVS S2:E15]

TW/CW: violence, kidnapping, chains?

AN: Idea came from @prose-for-hire ‘s submission to the fic title game. Taglist is at the bottom, let me know if you want to be added!

You’d been sitting silently, watching Spike wheel himself back and forth across the factory. If you didn’t know better he looked like he was pacing. In reality, he was probably checking behind the pillars and corners of the factory for any sign of your friends. It seems the vampires were expecting Buffy to come looking for you. As the time dragged on, your suspicions became reality; Buffy had prioritized the threat of the Judge over saving you. You had to admit, it stung a little, but it was only logical.

Spike peeked his head into each doorway adjoining the main factory floor. You could tell he was getting restless. You contemplated your odds carefully before you decided on taking a calculated risk.

“You lose a sock?” you yelled.

“Did I what?” Spike wheeled back into the room, an odd expression on his face.

“I asked if you lost a sock.” You paused, his intense glare caught you off-guard. “You know… Because of all the pacing. And popping your head in and out of every room in the place. Somebody’s going to think you lost a sock.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He chuckled a bit before going quiet again and stalking around the factory in his wheelchair. You nodded to yourself, deciding to quit while you were ahead. After that, the only sounds left in the factory were the spinning of wheels and an occasional bumping of door frames and frustrated curses.

It had only been a couple hours of his pseudo-pacing before Angelus and Drusilla stumbled their way into the factory. Spike took one look at the state Angelus was in and hid a smirk under his hand by scratching his nose.

“Well, you’re home early. Slayer hasn’t even tried swiping the girl yet.”

Spike’s good mood vanished as he watched them come down the steps. Drusilla was beside herself, and for a moment you found yourself feeling bad for her. Then Angelus opened his big fat mouth and you remembered who these people were.

“Yeah, well things didn’t go exactly according to plan, Spikey.” He prowled the room, circling like a big cat before he gravitated towards you. Your nerves peaked and you swear you saw a glint of pride behind Angelus’ eyes as he heard your heart pick up. He stepped within arms’ reach of you and sneered.

“What I can’t figure out is, why would she abandon you like this?”

“Where’s your big blue friend?” You swallowed your anxiety and stared up at him in challenge, you weren’t going to tell him a goddamn thing. Might as well give yourself a fighting chance. If he figured it out, you were dead already. You were going to be careful, of course, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him win.

Angelus roared, grabbing your face by the jaw. He was suddenly wearing his game face front and center. ‘Buffy really rattled him, huh?’ You remained stoic, as statuesque as you could muster. If you had misjudged his mood, this might be one of your last moments alive.

Drusilla had floated her way over, leaning into Angelus and hugging his arm to her side. Your staring contest interrupted, Angelus pulled away from you. You took the free moment away from the spotlight to run your fingers against the grain of the armrests, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of the wood underneath you. Your panic was bubbling to the surface, tension and pressure building in your ribcage. You caught Spike’s knowing glance towards you as your eyes flickered between the vampires. You dropped your eyes to the floor, frozen as Drusilla subtly coaxed Angelus away from you. Before long, Angelus had stormed out of the factory again, mumbling about sending Buffy a message.

You were grateful and more than a little stunned. Drusilla saved your life. In her own, subtle way she’d dismantled Angelus’ rage and directed it somewhere else. She’d spun him out of the factory towards Buffy with little more than a subtle flirtatious gesture. You practically gawked at her as she made her way into Spike’s lap. She had these men wrapped around her finger and they didn’t even know it.

Well, maybe Spike knew, but he certainly didn’t mind. He was running his fingers through Drusilla’s hair, comforting her as he spoke.

“If you like the hostage so much, maybe you should have a little fun, Ducks.” He wrapped an arm around Drusilla’s waist to steady her as he wheeled towards you, continuing. “She was supposed to be the distraction for the Slayer, after all. That is what went wrong with the plan, wasn’t it?”

Drusilla lifted her head, gears turning as she looked between Spike and you. Your mind rushed with your fears of what she was contemplating. You didn’t put it past them for ‘playing’ to mean something rather unpleasant for you. Drusilla hummed under her breath excitedly, springing from Spike’s lap and practically skipping out of the room. Spike nodded at you, raising his eyebrows as if to say “Hey look, I fixed it!” and wheeled himself into a good position to watch from, a smug grin on his face.

Drusilla returned with two fistfuls of chains and your heart dropped. She fussed with them somewhere behind you and left the rest in a pile as she ducked off again to the other room. Spike flicked his eyes between the chains and his girl curiously, but said nothing as she flurried about the factory. When she returned, she was holding a long carrying case and a small over-the-shoulder bookbag. She dropped them beside the chains and left again without a word.

“Ducks, what is all this stuff?”

Spike called out to her and wheeled over to the bags. He unzipped one when she didn’t answer. You couldn’t see into the bag from your position and Spike’s exasperated reaction didn’t help you either.

Drusilla returned one final time, holding a large blank canvas in each hand. The left was maybe a 20”x24” and the right was maybe a 24” square. (50cmx60cm or 60cm square).

“Which one does the artist like best?”

You paused, unsure if there was a right answer. After a couple moments you pointed weakly to the left canvas. Drusilla smiled at you and put the square canvas down. Spike scoffed as Drusilla set up an easel from the carrying case and put the bookbag on a table beside it.

She dragged the chains over to your chair and kneeled, carefully untying the knots around your right leg. You studied her face; she bit her tongue lightly as she worked, pulling at the ropes with deft, perfectly manicured fingers. After she’d untied your legs and shackled them, she let your arms off the armrests.

She took your hands in hers and pulled you up to stand for the first time in almost a day. You scanned her expression and glanced backwards towards the easel, then back to her with trepidation. She glided you in front of the daunting white canvas and left you, sinking backwards and sitting in Spike’s lap.

You stood, dumbfounded at the prospect of Drusilla wanting you to paint, of all things. She seemed unimpressed by your inaction after a few moments, and had begun whispering into Spike's ear. He'd leaned into her, pulling her closer and snickered at what must have been a rather amusing comment. He flicked his eyes at you through his lashes, a predatory glint flashing behind his eyes as his smirk grew. He straightened in his seat with satisfaction, head held high.

“Paint for the lady or get eaten. Your choice.”

Drusilla’s eyes wandered back to you and provided no comfort, but then again, why should it? You turned back to the canvas, feeling both their eyes staring at you. A calming breath later, you assessed the materials on the table.

The canvas bag she'd brought had a full set of oil paints- far nicer than you'd ever been able to afford. You didn't dare think of the poor shopkeeper she'd probably killed for them. A person just like your Uncle. He was just another obstacle in these people’s way, and for that he was murdered. You shoved the paints to one side of the small table and began assessing the tools. A somewhat rudimentary selection of spatulas and brushes. You could make do just fine with these.

You set up a palette with some blue, red, white, and black to start. A color palette often was the first thought you gave to a painting. This painting would be mostly blues, purples, and grays. Without turning your head, your eyes flicked towards the vampires just off your left shoulder in the periphery. You had never really let anyone sit and watch you paint. It was hard enough showing a finished piece to someone other than family.

You mixed a deep lilac and raised a palette knife to the canvas. You paused, unsure where to place the landscape. The creeping feeling of being watched was throwing you. The white snow canvas was taunting you, paralyzing you. But you weren't about to let it win. Any of them. You closed your eyes and just swiped the palette knife confidently in a bold first stroke. Now you had a puzzle. How does this fit into a landscape? There was no going back now, it had to work.

It was a mountain slope. The hue you used was suitable for a distant fixture seen from a twilit glade. You could lean into that, thinking on how to keep the morbid whimsy of the piece consistent as a theme. You blocked out the clearing and plotted out the forest behind and around it. It fell silent in the factory as you worked, only the scraping of palette knives and brush strokes echoing in the room. Pieces fell in place as you added gnarled willows at the tree line, white ghost pipes and fungi crawling on the foliage, and sickly green fireflies in the weeping branches and crooked thorn bushes. You didn't like how the overall feel of the piece was so damp and dreary. It felt too muted, too blue for what you'd envisioned. You added nettles to the glade in a redder purple, almost magenta, to tie the piece back into the mystical tone you wanted. A few more touches, a ray of silver moonlight here or there, and you stepped back. You contemplated the piece, for some reason feeling unfinished. The glade felt completely untouched, too alone by itself.

You almost jumped when you heard Drusilla shift off Spike’s lap behind you. You froze, dropping your gaze to the floor, unsure of her intentions. With three clicks of her heels against the concrete flooring, she stopped just behind you. So close you would have felt her breath on your neck if she were human. She leaned forward and pulled your hair behind your ear. She placed one hand on your shoulder and raised your head with a finger under your chin, guiding your eyes back to your work.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s not bad, actually.” Spike wheeled forward a pace or so to take a closer look at it. Drusilla still seemed to be waiting for your own answer. You studied it again silently.

It did feel telling, in an odd sort of way. It was invisibly and indescribably alive, despite the darkness and isolation. Could be a good metaphor for vampires... Alive and free only after their own deaths. Sure, they may not exactly live up to society’s expectation of a good neighbor, but you couldn’t say they let being dead keep them from living.

Still, the painting felt unsatisfactory, felt incomplete. You shook your head and pondered. You drew up a couple new colors, a ghostly blue and a red-brown clay. You loaded a palette knife with the clay tone and hovered over the painting, indecisive. The central piece as of now was a large, twisting willow on a small inclined mound of earth. The whole painting felt like background to an invisible subject. Nothing tied the eye to the painting, there was nothing to follow. No movement in a living place.

Drusilla took the palette knife from your hand and set it down. She pulled you lightly to step away from the painting, lightly petting your hair.

“Let it rest, you’ll do more later. With a clear mind,”

You let a heavy sigh escape your lungs. She was right. If you kept going now, at the end of your rope, you’d risk doing something that detracted from the painting entirely. You jerked your head up at a loud scraping sound from above you. Angelus had swung the door open on the mezzanine of the factory. He had a vicious grin and a playful look in his eyes, leaning on the guardrail and looking down at the three of you.

“Did you have fun with the Slayer, then?” Spike called up to him.

“Oh, she makes it so easy!” Angelus threw himself at the spiral staircase and rushed down them with glee.

“I barely had to lift a finger to throw a wrench in her little puppy problem.”

Drusilla twitched her head and glided towards him. She was staring at his face, fixated on something you didn’t pick up on. She swiped her thumb across the corner of his mouth and brought it to her own lips.

“Did you bring any home, Angel? I taste a young one on you.”

“Not today, darlin’. Besides, you have that one.” Angelus gestured to you and sauntered off, calling back as he left. “She wasn’t really any use anyway.”

[Next Chapter Soon!]

Tags: @prose-for-hire @soggy-enchilada @misselsbells06

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yunho0o0o0o · 4 years ago

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my fic recs: a masterlist

note: most of these have been reblogged on my account, but here’s a list for convenience, author’s summary is copy and pasted here if there is one, if it’s the first in a series I recommend the whole series, I’ll probably add to this as I read more, yes i know some people are missing i just somehow didn’t have any fics in my stache that included them

A- angst, S- smut, F- fluff

Includes BTS and Ateez

BTS:

OT7:

Lost & Found (F, 1.7k) - @namjoontunes - In a world where mythical creatures like dryads and vampires are commonplace, how will a household of supernatural humanoids react to their new kitten being a shapeshifting girl?

Lilies of the Valley (A) - @girlmeetsliv3 - includes ABO, yandere themes

Sunlight (F, A, 16,5k) - @floralsuga - A soulmate. That was all you had wished for. Someone to come home to, someone to be there for you, to build a life together with. And yet you were cursed with having seven. Seven soulmates that you could not allow yourself to have.

Fading Legacies (A, 3k) - @mindays - BTS achieved everything they’d ever dreamed of, becoming world wide idols. But then the zombie apocalypse hits and it’s all they can do to survive. And they’re going to need Y/N to do it.

The Gentlemen (M, A, F, 5.2k) - @honeymoonjin - Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Ethereal Orbit (A, F, S, 1.1k) - @miamorjoon - somehow you’ve landed on this strange planet named Utepnia and you have to save their race from extinction.

Taehyung:

Chism (S, A, F, 19.9k) - @kpopfanfictrash - The entirety of your life, you have never fit in. A woman soldier. A passive power, wielded in the land of the bold. Despite this, you have followed your father’s advice and striven to blend into the crowd. You feel you have succeeded, until your Queen calls you before her with an arduous task. Guard the darkest cell in the lowest dungeon. Do not listen to what the prisoner has to say and above all else, keep your head. The old gods may be dead, but the humans are living.

Beastly Gods (M, A?, F, 8k) - @lemonjoonah - ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you've been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

Teach Me Dirty (S, 2.9k) - @forgottenpasta - Taehyung has a lot to teach his English teacher. Fortunately for him, you’re an eager and willing pupil.

Hoseok:

World of Pride (A, F?, 5.2k) - @an-ambivalent - artificial intelligence hoseok, includes yandere themes, your father created an AI to protect you when he’s gone

Yoongi:

Make Me (S, F, 4.4k) - @ppersonna - an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

Lineage (M, S, 6.7k) - @kosmosguk - When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Switching Places (F, 1.7k) - @ijungkooki - soulmate au where you switch places with your soulmate at random times

Jin:

Scopophilic Affection (M, F, 7.8k) - @bibbykins - Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure.

Jungkook:

Shadow (2.2k) - @yoonologue - Shadow has been on the run her whole life. Her survival depended on her keeping her mouth shut and staying hidden. If she didn't then she would be captured and used as a pawn to do their bidding. But it seemed that her heart did not seem to understand that. She had never been able to ignore a person in need. She never had a problem before, but it seems that her luck had run out. Now she was left with scraped hands and unconscious boy that was too nosy for his own good.

Asterismos (A, F, S, 7.1k) - @hobiance - As far as you’re concerned, things like magic, prophecies, and fate are nothing more than fairytales. But when you accidentally bind your soul to a mysterious amulet you found at an antique shop, a group of seven warriors from a magical world inform you that you now hold the key to saving them all. The fate of the realm Elodia now rests in your hands, and you realize that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Sweets (F, 4.2k) - @worldwidemochiguy - in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing… , includes yandere themes

Pen Pal (A, 5.3k) - @chinkbihh - As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you. In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook. The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad., includes yandere themes

Quarter Quell (11.2k) - @chinkbihh - includes yandere themes, you are selected as a tribute for the next quarter quell (hunger games au), the volunteer from district two seems to have an unhealthy obsession with you

Haunted (A, S, 14.1k) - @mint-yooxgi - you move into a new house without knowing it’s already occupied, includes yandere themes, ghost! jungkook

ATEEZ:

OT8:

All Eyes On Me (S, A, F, 3.5k) - @atiny-piratequeen - member x member, not an x reader, yeosang focused, Yeosang is a very shy man. Everyone knows this.But he’s fed up of his shyness and insecurities being the reason he’s left out of sexual activities from the others. He wants them to look at him like they look at each other

Mingi:

Two is Better Than One (ft. Yunho) (S, F, 4.2k) - @mingishoe - a threesome with your boyfriend sub! Yunho and dom! Mingi

Yunho:

Two is Better Than One (ft. Mingi) (S, F, 4.2k) - @mingishoe - a threesome with your boyfriend sub! Yunho and dom! Mingi

Bassists Do It Deeper (S, 6.3k) - @luvteez - while using what you thought was your brother’s laptop you find a search history full of exhibitionism, only to find out you’ve been using one belonging to Yunho, the newest bandmate and your childhood enemy

Shower Sex (ft. Seonghwa) (S) - @atothetiny - after a long day at work you decide to join your boyfriend in the shower

San:

First Time With San (S, F, 3.5k) - @call-me-bha - Choi San, recognized as sex on legs among fans, was exactly-if not more- truthful to his reputation, and you quickly discovered that from the beginning of your relationship with him. In fact, you were about to find out about how much that name was made for him.

Seonghwa:

Truth or Dare (ft. Jaehyun and Johnny from NCT) (S, 6.2k) - @domjaehyun - playing truth or dare with your boyfriend and two guys you’ve hooked up with in the past when they propose a different kind of game

Focus (S) - @yeosangs-horizon - you and seonghwa try cockwarming in the study room, includes a little size kink

Shower Sex (ft. Yunho) (S) - @atothetiny - after a long day at work, you decide to join. your boyfriend in the shower

Yeosang:

Listen (F, 3k) - @mingishoe - You can hear every song your soulmate does, yours just happens to listen to the same song on repeat… for days.

Wooyoung:

Talkative (S) - @needyateez - when your car dies you’re forced to accept help from your enemy, Wooyoung, however things turn a different way than either of you were expecting

Hongjoong:

Miss (S) - @mingi-baby - sub hongjoong calling you miss

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everythingsinred · 4 years ago

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: The Anime (pt. 1)

I could go on and on about these two and I think I will, just because I don’t often see people talk about the analysis behind them. The meta I have seen about them has included a perspective that equaled the anime and the manga and I don’t think that’s an accurate way of viewing their relationship.

The anime is a different species than the manga, something that frequently happens during the adaptation from page to screen. Since they’re so different, I’ll analyze them separately.

There's going to be many parts to this so I'll keep a table of contents right here so people can more easily navigate (though you can also read through the "let's talk about natsumikan: the anime" tag on my blog):

Anime Analysis

Part 1: Exposition & Episode 7

Part 2: Episodes 8, 9, 10, & 11

Part 3: Episodes 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, & 17

Part 4: Episodes 18 & 19

Part 5: Episodes 20, 21, & 22

Part 6: Episodes 23, 24, 25, & 26 & Conclusion

The anime makes changes, as anime adaptations often do. The most outstanding changes are appearance related, as Natsume now has brown eyes instead of red, in addition to other characters who have hue-shifted eyes and hair. But there are also story changes, and I’ll be focusing on the changes that occur, specifically in regards to Natsume and Mikan and their relationship.

For one, their relationship starts evolving much earlier in the anime. I think it’s pretty undeniable that in the anime, Natsume started liking Mikan at the end of the dodgeball game. That scene never happened in the manga, but in the anime, it’s a crucial step in making sure nothing seems too sudden or forced.

The anime is 26 episodes long. If Natsume only starts liking Mikan after she saves him during the Reo Arc, then we’re already halfway through the show when positive feelings between the two appear. On the other hand, the feelings develop more slowly in the manga because there’s more time to properly develop the relationship in a more drawn out way.

My analysis will start with the anime, because it’s shorter and easier to discuss.

Exposition

It’s impossible to say that the anime was completely loyal to the manga. It very frequently couldn’t be, because it needed to fill in time in episodes or give closure early before the manga even addressed it (Natsume’s backstory in the anime, for instance, is vaguely referred to and implies deviation from the manga).

The most obvious difference between the manga and the anime from the get-go is visual. Not only do they have differing art styles (I don’t dislike the anime style but Higuchi Tachibana’s art style is so distinct and unmistakable while the anime’s isn’t so unique), but the setting is also different.

While the manga started in the depth of winter, the anime starts off in summer/fall. It always struck me as odd that while the first page of the manga has Mikan running after Hotaru in full winter-wear, the anime starts off warm and idyllic. You could almost think of that as a general warning for the difference between the anime and the manga. After all, while the anime has a reputation for being a cutesy and upbeat story about friendship and magical powers, the manga is much darker and discusses many morbid and depressing themes that can and WILL fuck you up. Warm vs. cold seems like an accurate difference, though I don’t think that was intentional.

We see way more of the village life in the anime, including Mikan’s efforts to keep the school from closing. This is a welcome change because Mikan’s passion to keep the school open is nothing compared to her friendship with Hotaru, and even after the school is saved, she runs away to see her friend, even if it means she goes to another school. The manga doesn’t imply that Mikan knew already about the school’s fate, and since she is always so preoccupied with Hotaru anyway, we don’t really get the impression that she cares very much. To Anime!Mikan, Hotaru is more important than saving the school, something she was so passionate about she rallied to get signatures. It’s an extra scene to prove just how much Hotaru matters to Mikan, and to show even more how selfless Hotaru was to go to Alice Academy, since she knew how much the school mattered to Mikan.

“Sign my petition to get a Gakuen Alice anime reboot!!!”

My boy Natsume is only introduced properly in the second episode, when we actually see his face and he speaks. His appearance is different from the manga’s too. I’m not sure if this was to appeal to a younger audience or what, but Natsume’s eyes are changed to brown instead of their iconic red, something that was always my biggest peeve about the anime adaptation. His hair is also somewhat purplish instead of entirely grey/black and, although this does bother me a lot less than the eyes, I wonder why they made this change when other characters have black hair. It might have been to differentiate him from Hotaru, another main character with black hair, though I’ve never had issue in the manga telling them apart.

His first interaction with Mikan is a lot more pleasant in the anime than in the manga, although that’s not really saying anything. Mikan’s skirt simply falls off and Natsume draws attention to it, rather than the unpleasant events that took place in the manga. This different event makes it a lot easier to support a relationship between the two of them right off the bat. They are still antagonistic but it’s not as terrible as it is in the manga. This makes it easier to establish romantic feelings earlier on, and might have been changed in order to achieve just that, or possibly also to appeal to a younger audience. Maybe both? Who knows.

“You can’t sit with us!”

With Natsume presented the way he is in the anime, it’s easier to make the claim that he’s simply a good guy who acts the way he does to protect people. And it’s true! He is! But he is also so much more. In the manga, he’s a more complicated character. Although he is a good person, he still requires character development, which is something he does go through, and something I’ll talk about more in his meta analysis later.

Most of the events at the beginning of the anime parallel the events of the manga. Mikan goes to Alice Academy at the same time of year, Natsume shows up with an explosion, Mikan has to go through the Northern Woods, she discovers her powers in her fight with Natsume, etc. Some of the continuation from episode to episode is different than the transitions between chapter to chapter, there’s extra scenes inserted to fill up time, and some of the exposition seems strangely presented (in the anime, Mikan finds out more about the school when she finds Narumi and Iinchou waiting for her at a tea party, which is…. Super weird…), but all in all the information and events are mainly the same. The big differences start with the dodgeball episode.

“Look how happy she is. Makes me wanna barf.”

Episode 7 vs. Chapter 9

I love the dodgeball episode. I feel like for the most part, the anime does deviation from the manga pretty well. With the last arc as an exception, I generally enjoy their changes and additions to the plot. The anime has to be different, has to progress at a different pace, has to introduce topics at different times. They have an episode to fill, and less time to build relationships. Natsume and Mikan are both different characters in the anime but it’s very subtle and has to happen due to the fact that the anime is shorter and seems more designed for younger audiences, in addition to wrapping up before the manga could explore more of the story.

Anyway, let’s talk about the dodgeball episode. AGAIN THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN THE MANGA THE SAME WAY so when discussing NatsuMikan as a concept, the anime events cannot be treated the same as the manga events. A lot of people maybe forget that the manga is very different than the anime when it comes to this episode. I see the two media conflated in plenty of fanfics, where seventeen year old NatsuMikan reflect on the dodgeball game from their youth that changed everything, and I get it because the anime version of the dodgeball game is cute! It's shippy! It's fun! But it doesn't happen in the manga the same way.

There's a similar trope with the sakura tree, which I can only remember from the anime, and yet it's such a fundamental aspect of NM fanfic it might as well have played a vital role in both anime and manga. Nothing wrong with any of this, of course. I'm just making it clear that my analysis will cover the two media as separate for the sake of a cohesive essay. Separating them in fanfic is far less important.

This look could probably kill someone. I’m surprised Mikan is still alive, TBH.

The chapter’s focus is Mikan starting to feel more at home in Class B, making friends with her once-hostile classmates, but the episode is more preoccupied with Natsume and Mikan’s perspectives on each other. While in the manga, the game ends with a tie and Mikan accidentally hits Hotaru in the face with the ball, the anime draws out the game to fill an episode and to introduce an evolution in the way Natsume sees Mikan. The first part of the anime episode is Mikan introducing her friends to her new senpai, Tsubasa. After she invites her friends, we see Natsume glowering at her and promptly ditching the next class, saying to Ruka that he can’t stand being in the same class as her. This addition to the plot already foreshadows that their relationship will change in some way by the end of the episode.

Tsubasa tells a frustrated Mikan that if she wants Natsume to be less unpleasant, he’d need to release some of his toxic energy. Thus, the sporty Mikan introduces the concept of dodgeball to the unwelcoming class. When they finally agree, Natsume gives one condition: that they play with the notorious Alice Ball, which is powered by the thrower’s alice (a detail absent from the manga). This Alice Ball is particularly terrifying with the threat of Natsume’s dangerous fire alice. Mikan also needs to get more people on her team, another aspect absent from the manga. While in the manga, Mikan only had her few friends on her team (including a wandering Ruka) and this ended up playing to her advantage, the anime has a humorous plot of Mikan tracking players down for her team, including a fake mustache she makes with her pigtails (she’s so cute, I love her), paying Hotaru to be on her team, and blackmailing Ruka to participate. This was mainly to fill time, but it makes the dodgeball game more important as well.

In the manga, we don’t see how the game ends, just that the teams tied and that everyone in class is having fun and bonding. In the anime, more emphasis is put on the “Mikan vs. Natsume” aspect, so a tie like the manga’s would be anticlimactic. Thus, the anime concludes the dodgeball game with Mikan and Natsume being the only kids left on the court, and Natsume not using his alice when he throws the Alice Ball. Even Hotaru leaving the game is something she does out of boredom instead of injury, further separating the other characters from the plot. It’s about Natsume and Mikan, and everyone else is mostly a side character. (Though Ruka also plays a vital role to this episode AND chapter, and it’s at this point that I think he started developing real feelings for Mikan as well. So when it comes to the anime, he and Natsume fall for Mikan around the same time, but in the manga, Ruka likes her first and the “he liked her first” argument for Natsume vanishes, though he never had that “advantage” to begin with.)

“Thank you!”

Natsume wins (something that shocked me at twelve years old) and is ready to walk away with his handy “tch” and all but Mikan thanks him for not using his alice and he goes off on her, demanding to know why she’s still smiling despite her loss. She says she’s happy that he had fun and was involved with the rest of class for once, and that in a way that means she wins. For Anime!Natsumikan, this is it. This is the turning point. “I just wanted you to be happy and have fun,” is what Mikan might as well be saying. “Really, this was all for you!” It’s sweet and it’s thoughtful and I don’t think Natsume ever imagined he’d be on the receiving end of her kindness, especially after all their beef. Manga!Mikan would probably not say these things to him, even if she meant them, for the sole reason that Mikan is stubborn and holds onto her pride, especially when it comes to her early relationship with Natsume, but Anime!Mikan is much more forgiving and much more willing to extend an olive branch, like in the dance episode. In any case, Natsume starts falling right then, and it’s obvious too, because he is pissed, and even more angry because he’s not even mad at her. He’s angry with himself for his change of opinion. This is the girl he was fully content to hate forever and yet here he was, starting to like her. Not ideal.

This scene, something so crucial to the development of Anime!Natsumikan, is completely absent from the manga. In the manga, Natsume still dislikes her by the end of the game although he does have fun.

He's not angry, just disappointed. In himself.

I’m not going to say one is better when it comes to starting up NatsuMikan because they’re very different creatures and I actually thoroughly enjoy both.

Anyway, the NatsuMikan after episode 7 is almost the same as in the manga, but the events carry a different weight since we know Natsume likes Mikan now (even if he would never admit it).

Summary

I hope this first part was interesting, and that it introduced the idea of Anime!NatsuMikan as being a little different from the manga's version. Yes, it is more or less the same story, but with so many thematic and plot changes, they take a different form as well, in a perhaps more subtle way, kind of like a slightly canon divergent fanfic. Fanfic where Natsume starts liking Mikan a bit earlier on in the story.

Next Part ->

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medea10 · 3 years ago

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My Review of Flowers of Evil

How did I get into this anime? Because Flowers of Evil is something no one says, “Oh I want to see that, this looks like a masterpiece”! Oh, I was well familiar with the rotoscope nightmare stories from this and hoped to God my randomizer wouldn’t curse me with watching Flowers of Evil. I was however intrigued to learn that there was a yandere in this anime that’s on Yuno Gasai AND Shion Sonozaki levels. But intrigue can only get me so far when you spend 13 episodes watching…

THIS!

No this is not an exaggeration. Everyone has this kind of cringe face throughout the entire anime series. Be afraid children.

So the story is about this guy named Takao Kasuga. He loves to read and he loves the class smarty-pants Nanako Saeki. He doesn’t just love her, he sees her as his muse and his Venus and all that bullshit. But this is an admiration from afar. Pretty sure Saeki doesn’t even know he exists! One day, Kasuga forgets his book in his classroom. And on the ground, he notices a gym bag that belongs to Saeki. Oh come on, he’s not gonna go down the perverted route and steal a girl’s gym…

So he steals Saeki’s gym uniform. And surprise, one person knew what happened. The class loner, Nakamura! She forces Kasuga to form a contract with her. It wasn’t written or anything, just verbal. However, that doesn’t stop Nakamura from forcing Kasuga to do whatever she wants. But does Nakamura really like Kasuga or is she just into torturing this shit-faced pervert?

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: You know, I’m too thrown off by the animation here that it has temporarily paralyzed me from catching voices or even giving a damn. I’m familiar with only two of the cast mates and the rest is literally my first time hearing it. Okay, I have one comment here. I often forget Mariya Ise could do some damn-ass scary characters like Nakamura. And when she does those murderous screams, forget about it! Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Kasuga is played by Shinichirou Ueda

*Saeki is played by Yoko Hikasa (known for Bea on Pokemon Journeys, Rias on High School DxD, Mio on K-ON!, Hina on Domestic Girlfriend, Kirigiri on Danganronpa, Frieda on Attack on Titan, and Diana on Little Witch Academia)

*Nakamura is played by Mariya Ise (known for Bonnie on Pokemon XY, Levy on Fairy Tail, Ray on The Promised Neverland, Stocking on Panty & Stocking, Mika on Durarara, Dorothy on Black Clover, and Yuuko on Yuri on Ice)

SHIPPING: Oh please, anime Gods, do not turn this into another School Days fiasco. I find myself praying for this a lot these days. But in this anime’s case, please do not go down that route!

So, it was clear from episode one that Kasuga had a crush on Saeki. But this got very perverted very fast when he stole her gym clothes and that lead to the contract with Nakamura. Now is Nakamura romantically invested in Kasuga or is she just a crazy bitch. Let’s chalk this up to a 50-50 split here.

It wasn’t until the fourth episode where Kasuga and Saeki actually spoke to each other. And one episode later, they go on a date and end up in a relationship. One has to wonder if Kasuga would have one day acted on his own and ask Saeki out. All of this happened because he was being forced by that psychopath Nakamura. She tortured this kid and forced him to do so many unethical things. Stripping him naked and putting Saeki’s uniform on him for one! Who does that? So would Kasuga have done these sporadic actions if Nakamura wasn’t in the picture? After he stole that uniform, anything is possible. Now here’s the crazy shit here, Saeki loves Kasuga and she doesn’t care that he stole her gym uniform and did fuck-knows-what with it. She’s mad that Kasuga hid it, but still loves him.

Girl, the fuck is wrong with you?! You must be some special kind of crazy!

By the end of this series, you do see a shift in Kasuga and who he wants to chase after. Saeki or Nakamura?! Let’s just say that during a running away scene, Kasuga was going to go home with Saeki until he saw Nakamura and he chases after her. That’s a pretty good sign that Kasuga has switched gears on who he likes. I won’t delve any further than that as the anime only gives us so much and the rest of this love turmoil between these three characters is covered only in the manga. Probably a sign I should read the manga!

LOOOOOONG NO DIALOGUE MOMENTS: Dude, I know you’re trying to set the mood for certain moments, but I think you can dial it back a bit. This complaint isn’t just what happened at the beginning of episode 9; it took forever to get the main gist of this story in the very first episode. I had no idea what the main premise of the story was until the last five minutes of the first episode when Kasuga stole Saeki’s gym uniform.

Now I’m not knocking serious moments where there is no dialogue between characters for a long period of time and we just watch the animation of them walking or doing something. Hell, Neon Genesis Evangelion had famous scenes like that. But the elevator scene didn’t last six fucking minutes. Neither did the scene where Shinji kills Kaowru. In episode 9, we watch Nakamura and Kasuga walking from the school to home and watch the whole walk after destroying the classroom. I guarantee you, you could leave this episode running, fix yourself a bowl of cereal and toast, eat it up, go to the bathroom to have a good yank, then finish it off with watching a Che Guevara documentary…and Nakamura and Kasuga would still be walking home! I’m exaggerating and I don’t care. I feel like being an asshole here.

OH DEAR GOD, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!: Very rarely will I ever look at an opening or ending theme song in literal fear. In fact, the last one to be so morbid was with Attack on Titan’s second season ending. I mean, the imagery alone should tell you that this is full of spoilers and possessed by the devil itself. Now that I think about it, that’s still undefeated. But Flowers of Evil’s ending theme is a close fucking second. Have you heard this thing? It sounds like Bjork singing in Japanese, synthesized, while a cat walks on a keyboard and having a seizure at the same time. Thank God there are no actual visuals for this other than the flower featured on Kasuga’s book. I don’t think we can handle anymore animation from this nightmare fuel.

ENDING: The writing is on the wall!

And the floor, the ceiling…that classroom is just a fucking mess!

Kasuga’s one bad deed led to another and another in a domino effect. And instead of a little devil on his shoulder, he has a classmate that’s a sociopath. Kasuga has guilt about hiding so much from Saeki in this relationship and he wants to tell her everything he did. Nakamura says, “Nah, you’re going to write it all over the classroom and let the whole world know what a piece of shit you are”. Let’s just say Nakamura and Kasuga went overboard and completely destroyed their classroom. Kasuga gets a bit of a lucky break as the other vandalism covered up his name on the chalkboard confession. But two people have caught onto Kasuga’s crime, Saeki and Kasuga’s mother.

Saeki put two and two together when she noticed the ink smearing on the ground resembled the flower art work on Kasuga’s book “Flowers of Evil” and her stolen gym uniform was placed right there. As for Kasuga’s mother, she put two and two together when she heard what happened to his classroom and noticed Kasuga’s behavior and dirty clothes from the night of the crime. Won’t be long before everyone knows what Kasuga did.

What now, shit-face?

Run away with Nakamura to the next town. Yeah, why the fuck not?! Saeki ends up tracking them down and tried to convince them to come back and for Kasuga to be truthful. Saeki wants Kasuga and I almost want to say the same, except hanging around this psycho-bitch for a while has caused him to try to stop Nakamura from leaving. Having Saeki see Kasuga go after Nakamura isn’t really a good look! At this point, it really feels like his love for Saeki was nothing more than lust.

Dude, isn’t there a rule about not messing with crazy…like, don’t stick your dick in crazy?! This dude has got one crazy bitch on psycho-yandere levels and the other that’s about to turn into Kotonoha from School Days in about five seconds. Well, no one left town today as the police were called to look for Saeki because her parents are overprotective types and they take the other kids in.

We get a small time-leap of one month after the night in the police station. Nakamura’s been ignoring Kasuga and Kasuga ends his relationship with Saeki. Dude, stop trying to stick your dick in crazy! Kasuga tries to speak to Nakamura again and it fails. So he visits her at home and meets Nakamura’s father and grandmother. Then, he sneaks into her room and reads her private journal that talks about Kasuga a lot. Dude, you are stepping in uncharted territory! Drop the journal and get the fuck out before Nakamura comes home. So Nakamura comes in her room and finds shit-face reading her journal.

*sighs*

First, I would like to acknowledge that Mariya Ise has one hell of a throat to scream as much as this crazy bitch does. Second, the fuck did I just say, ya dumbass?! Here we get another chase scene between Kasuga and Nakamura. What follows is…I can’t place my thoughts on this. Weird imagery, out of place dialogue, and possible scenes of future stuff to happen! A rape scene involving Saeki, a festival, a hideout, a knife, and fire! Thanks for the cryptic message guys, really appreciate it! Either the anime ran out of money or they’re fucking with the audience. Kasuga says he wants to form a contract with Nakamura and that’s the end!

Hmm, this anime came out in 2013 and it is now 2021. All the buildup and no word on a sequel! We all know that sequel ain’t ever coming. You have a better chance of a continuation to Haruhi Suzumiya than you do with this hunk of shit.

Okay, maybe ‘hunk of shit’ is too mean. This wasn’t a terrible anime. It was weird as fuck, the animation leaves a bad impression, but overall it wasn’t that bad. Now the manga to Flowers of Evil is a favorite to many. Probably because the characters don’t look like a cringey meme and there aren’t so many awkward pauses with no dialogue. Unless there’s a whole volume of Flowers of Evil out there where we just look at pictures of Nakamura and Kasuga walking home where they don’t say a fucking thing! I am not letting that go! Charlie Brown movies didn’t go to that level you guys did!

I was interested with each passing episode to see what Nakamura was going to do next and what she was capable of. I couldn’t make out if she was going to be homicidal or suicidal or just impact psychological warfare on her prey. It was the latter for this series, but I heard of some attempted seppuku going down in the manga. I’d like to think maybe one day a different studio would pick up this series, but I seriously doubt it with the rotten reception this adaptation received. It was said that the director to the anime saw this more as a live-action series than an anime and that’s why we have the rotoscope animation. It wasn’t until 2019 that we got a live-action adaptation to Flowers of Evil. Not sure how people felt about that adaptation, but even I have a feeling that it was much better than the anime. Hell, a Netflix adaptation probably would have turned out a better product. It would be nice for this to get a reboot, different studio, different director, and smash everything that has the word ‘rotoscope’ on it

Yeah, if you can get over watching the animation, give it a watch. Episode one drags, but it picks up the second Nakamura confronts Kasuga.

If you would like to watch Flowers of Evil, Crunchyroll and Hidive have all 13 episodes available for streaming.

Okay, now that I’m finished with that sociopathic nightmare let’s pick another Sentai Filmworks anime.

HELL NO! I am not reviewing, “My Teacher Accidentally Made Me Horny”. That’s what I’m calling it and you should all do the same. NEXT!

Okay…I have no idea what the hell this anime is, but it looks harmless enough.

#anime review #flowers of evil #aku no hana #takao kasuga #nanako saeki #sawa nakamura

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whatudottu · 4 years ago

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Because I've held this off for too long, once again it seems that @nukeli has beaten me to the punch with colour schemes. Damn my procrastination or whatever, but I only just realised that I didn't put any mention of the 'fodder' classes (Vehicons, Insecticons and I suppose Autotroopers since I'm including them) and wanted to put down my thoughts before writing this up.

An added bonus here is that certain character have different alts (based on character changes and even the heavier focus of 'robots in disguise' that these Decepticons are after) so it's not just me ranting about colour schemes.

Yes, this was why I was complaining about the wiki altmodes, so deal with the vehicles I found instead. May or may not be due to me using images as references haha.

The Autobots (you are here)

The Decepticons Part 1

The Decepticons Part 2

Going in order of my notes, we begin with Cliffjumper. He’s obviously a 1970 Dodge Challenger and what colours I’ve given him are on the image below. Nothing much to say about a definitely dead character other than I didn’t just wanna make him blue.

Next on the list is good old Doctor Ratchet. I’ve had it in my mind ever since Nuke’s one post that SG!Ratchet was like Medic from TF2, so I guess I took it and ran.

To play an opposite to regular Ratchet, he comes across as affable and friendly but is really just doing the things he loves to people he hates. Autobots, Decepticons, hates everyone. He despises Optimus Prime too, but he can’t do anything unless he wants to be cooped up in his berthroom reattaching his limbs for it. Believe him, he tried.

As for altmode and colours, I spent way too long finding that he resembles a Mercedes Benz G-Class ambulance that I was ticked to find out he wasn’t at all. I special looked for the green coloured ambulance because Synth-En, duh!

Breaking in after the Doctor comes our local wrecker Bulkhead. I don’t have much of a read on this guy, other than the fact that I thought it’d be a cool idea for him to lose a lot of his memories after ‘TMI’, ya know, from the Synth-En recipe? Certainly not set in stone, but it could very well contribute to my accidental theme of memory (which only has some small links in the posts I actually created).

With the help of my car enthused cousin I have given our not so loveable mech a Terradyne Gurkha, a little more military than the wiki’s off-roader Lamborghini that I’m too annoyed to bother to look at. I thought that the military origins and the black colour scheme sorta allude to something something mindless military man. yada yada.

Following him is our ever wonderful Optimus Prime, or maybe Lord Prime? Haven’t thought too much about that. What I have thought of is this master manipulator who mayhaps also be a little bit delusional idk we’ll decide in the car.

I always loved the idea of a smiling SG!Prime, as if there’s still hints of this benevolent leader that the original has, but it’s warped and meant to add fodder to the war, encouraging mechs to fight to their deaths all in the name of not only the Autobots, but their Prime. Also as a warped version of the original, I wanted Shattered Glass Optimus to be deluded in the fact that Megatron will change, change at least, to submit to the real leader. Ain’t happening. That’s sorta there with Ratchet too, but well, you read Ratchet’s piece didn’t you?

SG!Prime is consistently purple and black, and whilst I have found a Peterbilt Semi Truck with that wonderful colour, it comes with white instead. Think about it, this typically evil colour paired with often innocent white, that’s like perfect for what I’m going for.

Fitting that he’s next, it’s time for Prime’s Second In Command Ultra Magnus. I’ve... really got nothing for him. Maybe he’s still by-the-books but like he finds loopholes just to commit atrocities? I don’t know.

I’ve given this boy a Mack Trident alt instead of Prime’s Peterbilt, just for differences sake.

After Magnus, we got our little bug Bumblebee... or is it. Because I wanted to change his colours a bit without going into Beast Hunter territory, I wondered if bees come in different colours and, low and behold, they do!

As for the boy himself, I think he was one of the bots manipulated by Prime himself to join the cause and, given his almost rewritten personality, has only lived through to this point in the war by sheer luck. This mech is an absolute menace, feral and powered by the need for Prime’s approval, tearing others with denta and servo more often than with stingers and blasters.

Now you’ve noticed I haven’t been using his name? That’s because he’s now Blue Band (I just realised he’s still bb haha)! He gets his name from the Blue Banded bee, and I found a Chevrolet Camaro to match.

In line with BB’s younger status, feast your eyes on Shattered Glass Smokescreen! Oh boy isn’t he a delight. His hero worship has essentially turned him to a prime (pardon the pun) candidate for Optimus to form into his perfect super soldier, who already would die for this deranged mech even before laying optics on this grand Prime.

So, he’s an absolute suck up, a straight up spoiled brat that has it harder than Blue Band for Prime’s acknowledgement, and is actively showing off and bragging that he’s Optimus’ favourite (he’s not, he just encourages it because that’s the easiest way to get Smokey to do what he wants).

Almost to reflect that (perhaps another pun) I found this gaudy Chameleon Chevy Corvette that absolutely SCREAMS show off.

Regrettably partnered up with him after the passing of Cliffjumper, Arcee has run out of patience. Not everything she does is motivated by Airachnid (what kind of character would that be? not a fun one) but she does often enjoy killing those connected with her. After Tailgate, she’s gotten a little mad, but her effectiveness otherwise increased so others never bothered to ‘fix’ her.

Having lost both of her partners, when she absolutely hates another (read; Airachnid and Starscream because he still kills Cliff) the best kind of revenge is putting her opponents in her own pedes. Oh, that mech’s growing attached to one of his comrades? Slice and dice them before their optics. Oh, that femme is finally coming out of her shell and making friends? Gore out their spark and hope that humans don’t decide this would be the perfect time to practice what they preach and save the life of that same mech with a hard to perform surgery that may or may not have been lost to time.

Okay so she’s obviously a Kawasaki Ninja (haha that’s kind of fitting) and I was tempted to make her pink like other Arcee iterations, but look at this fancy stuff right here. He hoo glowy look pretty!

Almost in leu of an Airachnid archetype, Wheeljack comes in. Though still quite the wrecker and ever the bomb enthusiast, instead of actively celebrating his impacts and going solo to stop the rust settling in, he’d rather be offed whilst mechs are distracted by his pretty explosion and lay forgotten in the dirt.

I may have accidentally rooted the unintentional memory theme deeply with the wreckers (Breakdown included) and maybe just took it and ran, giving everyone else a little connection, but Wheeljack is probably the most explicit in this idea. He hates nicknames (which i super Ratchet uses to mock him here in Shattered Glass) because that’s like... naming something you’re going to keep to quote that specific fic which, honestly, I can’t remember. Wheeljack split from others to stop them from remembering him and put himself closer to a situation where he can die alone, as morbid as that sounds. No grand death, no stupid death and no straight up suicide (generally that’s a VERY impactful kind of death) so just a mediocre end is what he’s been looking for for a little bit too long.

As for his colours, I apparently have no taste and should not have a car because I really like what this image has going for it. This C3 Corvette is probably one of the few cars that fits the straight up box of a sports car that Jackie’s got, so I’m sticking to it, so no, don’t show me the wiki I’m ignoring it this was too painful to give up dang it!

Okay, finishing off the bots, I have the Autotroopers. Sure, I’m not using a reference of a car to show off the colours, mainly because there’s also going to be flier troopers too, maybe... surely... definitely. Most depictions of them are white, you know, goodie goodie, and I’m tempted to just laze around and do just that. Instead, I think a goldish colour would be fun.

Aside from sharing a key colour with Ultra Magnus, essentially a war lawyer, which is perfect for subjects made to obey, a nice glimmering finish almost feels like they’re all manipulated by Prime to believe in the Autobot cause. I suppose the special devision, if there is one, would be a nice Prime purple, sorta like if it’s Optimus’ personal guard if he actually had any belief they would do their jobs.

Oh boy this is so long...

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kitreadsbirdmen · 4 years ago

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Birdmen Finale Thoughts

A Reflection on the End

Birdmen checked a lot of boxes for me. The most superficial being wings and flying, concepts that I would imagine from the window of a speeding car or subway train. I can’t say I was attracted to the freedom of the idea, that frankly scared me silly. But it was fascinating enough, and it preoccupied this small part of my imagination from time to time with the pull of the absolutely inexplicable. What if… What if something happened? What if I were different or strange? How would everyone react? What would I do? How would I change or what would I do to fight that change?

These thought experiments often led me to self-indulgent stories with fantasitcal premises that would only halt the speculation and sweep their characters towards their own plots and narratives. They would only glance over to the vastly more interesting human fallout of the [insert truly miraculous phenomenon] for the sake of episodic drama or a comedic take. These would deep down be very disappointing to me because they failed to give weight to the mind-spinning concept of the supernatural. By brushing past it, the story would dismiss my biggest questions, the ones I felt a morbid curiosity to see explained vicariously. That’s probably why I was so hooked to Birdmen at first.

Birdmen was and is... rather mundane if you think about it. Grounded, set in a recognizable reality, gave nuance to very human quirks and details of life and society. Kinda dull-ish, slightly charming, and depressing, with all the same desire for something more that we feel when we watch the clock tick away. And even the murmurs of the supernatural had this incredulous air. Something amusing and perhaps hard to dismiss nevertheless. And as our cast is thrust into this new spin on reality, it’s given weight and time. Growing pains full of stumbling youth shenanigans and strife. The Introductory Arc is some masterful execution of humanity as the line of a new species skirts more and more into a diverging reality. It’s here that a very different kind of strength is capitalized on. The limitless potential found within limitation itself.

The core concept and primary conflict of birdmen comes from the subtle utilization of a grounded scientific and philosophical school of thought. This limits the entire narrative to concepts inspired not by the dramatic needs or visual aesthetic, but by the imagination of existing science itself. While a lot of things can boast this particular source, I think Birdmen is very conservative with where it could go. The most outlandish things are noted but not abused. Nothing is absurd no matter the demand. It’s the reason why I found the lore behind the growing science and discovery of the Seraph abilities to be immersive. It’s why I could create a million 1st ability ideas, headcanons, and theories (some of which would actually get confirmed) in one sitting. The source material existed within limits and therefore opened the door to boundless potential.

To put it in a word, it’s realistic.

Realistic characters, events, ‘villains’, powers, relationships, conflicts… the list goes on. When we pick up a story we suspend our disbelief to welcome the basic empathy and logic to engage us through the world. But I felt a strange relationship with that process on so many levels for Birdmen. It’s why talking about it in-depth is such a hard to explain feeling. When fictional characters have all the nuance and depth as a real person. When wide-scale event scenarios start reflecting the common trends of the current mediascape. When manga-panels start echoing peer-reviewed articles… It becomes hard to see the need to suspend disbelief. At least not in the same way. It makes things seem so much more possible. Everything feels so much more personal.

The current pandemic has helped in this process of course. My life has been turned upside down and I often find myself asking ‘dude is this (still) happening???’. It makes a lot of stories and speculative fiction narratives seem a lot closer. But then the final arc of Birdmen introduces its own pandemic SEVERAL months before covid-19 is first spotted and we see a roll-out of cultural fallout that is eerily familiar. WHO press conferences following the resignation of Eden’s director. Forgetting your mask as you leave to greet your son’s arrival home. Teachers taking a sick day for themselves or perhaps out of caution (if only that worked state side lol). Misinformation and tension across social media. Unrest and riots in the street. (that image of Robin’s flock watching the riot from a distance got me big time. Mostly because I was thinking about the Capitol riots at the time). I think I just needed a chapter devoted to a successful and seamless vaccine distribution to set my resonating heart at ease.

...I’m not kidding there actually. We can’t just assume it went off without a hitch Tanabe. Can I get some wish-fulfillment here??

That actually brings me to a big takeaway as I read the final chapters. In my initial reflection, (and entire year ago) I talk about how I was certain Birdmen was prematurely cut short. And while there is probably a world Takayama could witness in his multiverse seeing eyes, where Birdmen runs for several more volumes and the playout of years of arcs goes much longer, I ultimately want to rescind that thought.

I don’t think the ending was rushed. I don’t think Tanabe was racing against a clock to wrap things up. I don’t think she was dropping million plot threads into the void out of necessity. It is very clear at every point toward the end that Tanabe knew exactly where she was going and was taking a straight shot to that destination at every point.

Yes, there are some characters that did not get a long enough time in the spotlight. Yes, there is a boundless potential to explore with many characters and concepts. Yes, there is an element of fallout that was left unaddressed. But this doesn’t make it unfinished or unsatisfying. The mundane, realistic nature of the narrative, allows this lack of tangible book-ends. It has uncertainty. The resolutions are not perfect. Not every person in your life is going to shine in the same way (no matter how much you like them). Their purpose in the narrative may seem small but has ripples of effects on the characters and chemistry of the collective. This is not wasted. I knew this wasn’t rushed because the primary themes of these characters came through and they were given all the space and time and panels they needed to tell that story. I noted this most when Robin was having that discussion with Agent Leo about her address to the media at the White House. The back and forth and revelations of Robin’s entire arc were expressed in this one conversation and it lasted several pages. This is the final volume of the story and this nuance is getting the full dry clean treatment. How can I claim that this was rushed? If I had to claim any ill intent I might say we would have gotten a few more chapters of proper fallout, but that would only be for the sake of neatness. But as I mentioned there is something grounded about taking that away and leaving that to the imagination.

And thus, I’m left feeling incredibly satisfied. So impossibly satisfied. Birdmen has become something so integral to my life and I feel changed having known and loved it. To see it take a bow as gracefully and profoundly as it did fills me with a personal satisfaction I cannot put into words. This is and will forever be, one of the finest stories I will ever read.

There is a part of me refreshed. Inspired by the daring embrace of reality. Charmed by the beautiful characters. Intrigued by the possibilities still to be discussed. I am almost left a little overwhelmed with how much I want to do as a response, both for the sake and honor of Birdmen and for my own personal motivations. It’s a kind of weightlessness, burdened by crippling fear.

It’s a lot like flying really.

#birdmen #review #tanabe yellow #birdmen manga

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crusherthedoctor · 5 years ago

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Why Jim Carrey’s Robotnik is The Fuckin’ Man™

Yep, the movie is still on my mind, and I'd say I love it even more with each passing day. Partly because it came as much relief during a time when IDW Sonic is continuing to aggravate me with nearly everything it does with its story and characters, but mostly because I just really enjoy it on its own merits (and unlike some people, I don't need to add “it's no masterpiece...” to every sentence as if I'm secretly ashamed about liking a Sonic the Hedgehog film). While the movie's portrayal of our old mate Robotnik is far from the only reason for why I love the film, he's obviously a huge factor all the same, so I felt like listing a few reasons for why - already - he's one of my favourite incarnations of the doctor yet.

A lot of it can be boiled down to how accurate he is to Eggman's character despite the face value differences, but to elaborate that little bit more:

- He's every bit as physical as Eggman is in the games. It would have been easy for Robotnik to be reduced to a Non-Action Big Bad in a live action role, given how often that tends to happen with similar villains in similar live action installments of similar franchises... But instead, Robotnik actually lives up to his character's habits and takes a very active role in his pursuits, culminating with him facing the hedgehog personally, and putting up a good fight in the process. Compare this to the supposedly more threatening SatAM Robotnik, who spent most of his time twiddling his thumbs and letting Snively do all the work.

- Also like game Eggman, he's stronger than he looks, and he's equally capable of handling himself in a fight. A much larger guy who Sonic had notable trouble with is thrown out a window like it's nothing by Robotnik, and despite getting caught off guard by Tom's attack from behind, he was quick to turn the tables enough for their brief fistfight to be considered a stalemate. And let's not get into whatever it was he apparently did to that school bully...

- While he's every bit the glorious ham you'd expect him to be, his witty remarks can be downright morbid at times. The first thing he does when he sees Sonic's seemingly dead body? Make a crack about PETA animal testing. Absolute legend.

- Not only is he funny and menacing in equal measures, but both sides of his personality seem to be working at the same time in a lot of his scenes, going from one to the other then back again in a matter of seconds. This makes him come off as unpredictable, which definitely adds to the tension involving him.

- The government is clearly terrified of him, treating the mere idea of hiring his services for the blackout investigation as though he's a Horseman of the Apocalypse, and being incredibly quick to give his existence the '06 retcon treatment when it looks like he's gone for good (spoiler: he won't be forgotten for long). But at the same time, they bring him in specifically because they know that he's the only one with the genius to handle the apparent threat that Sonic poses, and their own talk of him having helped out with numerous foreign coups in the past - probably single-handedly at that - is yet more proof that his credentials are no joke. If G.U.N. exists in this universe, they're basically admitting that they ain't shit compared to this one man.

- Despite technically acting on the government's behalf during the events of this film, Robotnik treats the affair in the same way that Blofeld treats his affiliation with Red China: Namely, it's a very transparent means to an end that will ultimately benefit himself more than them, and it's clear at all times that not only is he the one holding the reins, but that they're perfectly aware of this and are simply unable to do anything about it. Considering this is, again, the government we're talking about, that makes it abundantly clear before we even meet him in person that this guy isn't your typical basement dwelling mad scientist whose ambitions far outweigh their capabilities.

- In a Sonic the Hedgehog movie production starring Ivo Robotnik, played to perfection by Jim Carrey, the meme potential is too vast to quantify.

- His drones are essentially Matryoshka dolls of destruction, and they have the tricks and the persistence you'd expect to be saddled with that implication. They highlight the doctor's own determination in catching the hedgehog, and they also confirm his surprisingly keen sense of foresight in dealing with opposition. If only he leant some of that foresight to IDW Eggman...

- His big black truck is actually really badass for an “evil lair”, as the man himself labels it. It's equipped with the aforementioned super persistent drones, it comes with a hangar bay for his sizable hovercraft (which, by the way, just so happens to have an Egg Mobile colour scheme), he can experiment in his lab while he's on the move, and he even has wacky virtual simulators to play around with on the side... and the means to make a latte apparently. It may not have the scale of a Death Egg space station or an Eggmanland theme park, but considering this is an up-and-coming Eggman of sorts, it's a very interesting and impressive choice for the doctor's first humble abode, as it shows that even when he's just starting off, he's already thinking in a different (and cooler) wavelength than most.

- It didn't take him long at all to successfully harness the power of Sonic's quill in a manageable form, meaning he understood how Sonic's speed worked and was able to use it against the hedgehog himself in a relatively small amount of time. If Metal Sonic is ever introduced, he's likely going to be a juggernaut on par with his OVA portrayal.

- Yet another trait he shares with game Eggman: he does not cower. Sure, he might get startled by seeing Sonic for the first time, or accidentally getting creeped up on by Agent Stone, but in terms of legitimate fear, he has none to show for it. Sonic, who he thought was banished to the Shadow Realm killed, suddenly revives himself and takes back his quill by force, all the while throwing one hell of a death glare his way as he becomes supercharged with electricity. How does Robotnik react to this? By putting on his own game face (and his goggles) and staring him down for a final standoff. The idea of running away or pleading for mercy doesn't even appear to register in the doctor's mind.

- Even after going mad upon being stranded on the Mushroom Planet, he remains as determined as ever to reach his goals, and while he may have nothing else on him for the time being other than Sonic's quill, we know for a fact that his return is inevitable, and he'll be hitting twice as hard no matter what he decides to use. His final transformation into a more recognizable Eggman may be born out of isolation and insanity, but despite the circumstance, it's more strangely triumphant rather than tragic or pathetic. He even notes that lesser men would be hopeless in his predicament, and presumably that includes lesser villains as well.

- This face.

I want that face on a T-shirt.

Overall, despite the expected and at times necessary differences for a live action portrayal, Robotnik hasn't actually been watered down in terms of character OR threat level. He's already dangerous enough to risk the safety of the entire planet, and if the stinger is any indication, he's only getting started.

And you know what else? While it's obviously delightful that his resemblance shifts to being more Eggman-like by the end of the film (and the full moustache actually doesn't look too bad on Carrey's face), I don't think I would have minded that much if his appearance remained the same in a sequel, because the core of his portrayal was so perfect and quintessentially Eggman that the differences didn't even click after a while, even as I kept looking at them point blank.

That's how you know the guy did well. Although it probably also helps that his non-Eggman look is considerably more dignified and cool than SatAM Robotnik falling into a vat of concentrated 90's.

#Opinion #Dr. Ivo Robotnik #Sonic Movie

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