#I get shipping them is harmless fun but me personally it irritates me

[starsarefire824]

It’s not that the poll was shared to tumblr that’s pissing people off. It’s that we’re organizing and planning to all vote the same way regardless of our individual opinions on the ships and basically taking over what should have been something light for the Reddit community. Like sure it’s an open poll but the goal wasn’t to survey everyone far and wide. It was supposed to be for the Reddit community. Also it’s clogging up our tag now and and spreading byler hate which we really didn’t need more of.

I totally see this point. But the fact of the matter is is that I, a person who mainly uses tumblr, has also been a part of the stranger things sub for quite some time. And have been endlessly shit on for having opinions that go against the general consensus over there. And have watched others be downvoted and verbally abused as well.

So for them to be mad, now that tumblr has gotten involved, which has in turn also stirred a bunch of bylers on the sub to become more vocal, (most of the usernames i honestly didn't even realize were bylers in the first place), and to be angry because ONE time a stupid game (I have voted in all of the previous polls too) didn't go their way, seems ridiculously childish to me. Especially considering with the GA and other platforms, Mileven *is* a ship that people greatly dislike. Whether Reddit wants to believe that or not is on them.

I think the thing that irritates me the most is that Reddit is so closed off from the outside discourse about this show that they are completely shocked when suddenly there are people speaking up that disagree with them.

It IS all in good fun. They are the one's that are making it nasty.

I think the reason this is in the tag is because most of us are waiting on new tidbits from when filming starts, and there's not much to chew on atm. And I personally believe that some of the Reddit stuff can lead to interesting discussion. But the main point of this--- is that there are a lot of us who are also on Reddit and sometimes the two are going to cross paths. This isn't Tumblr people "invading" a harmless Reddit poll. It's people who were already there finally feeling comfortable enough to get involved with the support of their mutuals and friends from here.

[lilyharvord]

Omg describe the parent trap au pls I'm begging you

AH! Okay! I've got five requests... means I have to do it XDDD

(bear in mind I had this idea before broken throne came out and we knew Cori and Shade were a thing)

1. Mare and Cal are still young, they're dealing with the ramifications of everything. Mare gets pregnant, they have twins. Their relationship sort of falls apart... and they go their separate ways, each one taking a twin daughter. Mare to Montfort, Cal to the States

2. Some years later (11) the twin daughters both end up at the same sort of camp thing (not sure exactly what's going on there, but they do). They totally hijack each other and end up being forced into an isolation where they only have each other. Then they realized: HOLY SHIT YOUR MOM IS MY MON AND YOUR DAD IS MY DAD. Then they hatch their "master plan" to get Mare and Cal back together. One daughter Coriane (Cal's) and the other Avery (Mare's) switch places, going back to the opposite parent in hopes that they will have to come back together to switch them back.

3. Shenanigans obviously ensue. And Cori realizes horribly quickly that Mare is dating someone... and Avery kinda didn't know about it. The guy (who is not Tyton because I Would NEVER slander that boi like that) is an asshole period. So Cori has to be a snappy little shit and tries to break them up. I just have this one conversation in my head where the guy confronts her and is like: For your information, I adore your mother, she's exactly the kind of woman I always dreamed of marrying. And Cori just leans forward and goes: and my mother's political and military standing wouldn't have anything to do with that... would it? And he goes from being nice politician guy to straight dick in .2 seconds and leans forward to day: listen here puss, I'm marrying your mother in three weeks, whether you like it or not. Is that clear? And once I do, I'm shipping your ass off to the Lakelands. And that's when Cori sends emergency message number 1 to Avery in the States who has been busy ignoring her panic because she's having the time of her life with her dad.

4. Anyway, Julian is the one that figures it out, cause he follows Avery after she runs out to place an emergency call to Montfort to tell Cori to hang in there. He makes Avery tell Cal and we get the cute scene where she's in his office and she has a little suitcase with her, and he laughs and asks where she is going when she buries her face in his shirt. And all muffled says: I'm going to find Cori. And he laughs again and says: I see Cori, so where is she exactly? And she just kinda sniffles looks up at him and says: In Ascendant, with her mom Mare Barrow. And Cal just kinda of looks up at Julian who gives him that little smile. And then he cups Avery's face, lifts it up to look at her, and says: You're not Cori.... you're Avery? and then he puts it together. They decide to go to Ascendant to switch them back. Cal is low key a wreck all the way there, and Julian goes with them with Sara because he's low key gotta chaperone his stressed out nephew still. (Little does Cal know that Julian, Sara, Cori, and Avery all planned it so that they go to the place Mare/Fiance are looking at for their wedding, without Cal knowing what's happening, and without Mare knowing anything at all.)

5. They all end up there, They get separated from each other for a split second and when they happens, Cal ends up spotting Mare getting into an elevator with her asshole fiancé, and she literally almost falls over leaning to the side making sure she is actually seeing her ex-husband and not a ghost of him induced by her low key guilt over remarrying (especially since who she thinks is Avery has been so very opposed to it). Then Cal goes up (mind you, he may be slightly drunk cause... it's funny in the movie, so it works here) runs into both the girls, and finds out Mare is getting re-married, and they try to convince him to stop it, but he won't hear any of it, and tells them he is only there to switch them back.

6. Cal goes down ahead of the girls, and is in the bar trying to get something to deal with the raging headache he has, and who does he run into but Asshole Fiance who is so freaking excited to realize it's him because wow, political ambitions to the max there.

6. Anyway, they go down to a garden and the girls are sitting there with Julian and Sara, and Mare is literally on the HUNT for Cal. She's so confused why he's here, etc. etc. Then she spots him walking down the stairs of the garden (it can be in slow motion while he's adjusting his jacket if you like 😏) and she literally runs into someone, and ends up in a fountain. Cal pulls her out, and she's just looking up at him shocked and confused, and then the girls show up and explain what they did and Mare's just baffled until she laughs and hugs them both. They sit down, Cal gives her his jacket and they talk for a second and Mare just says: I can't believe this... seeing them together, seeing you again... I just-- And then asshole fiance shows up and is like: FINALLY! There you are! Oh um...oh good, you've met! Honey, I was just speaking with him in the bar and um, we were talking about some trade deals, and um wait, I dont understand how did you two meet? and Mare... why are you all wet? and Mare just looks at Cal and goes: you're doing a political trade deal with my fiancé? and Cal's like: i didn't know he was your fiancé? And then Mare's like hahahaha how did we meet? How did you two meet? And Fiance just goes: Am I missing something here? And Mare going: hahaha this is one small world. Cue Avery popping up near his elbow and saying: Hey. And then him sniffing and going: hello. And then Cori popping up and going: Hi, how's it going? And him having a small freak out before Mare sort of grimaces and says: Um... did I ever mention to you that Avery was a twin? And he's just totally put out and grumbles: you neglected to mention that little detail. And the girls are more than happy to introduce Cal as their dad, and fiancé just goes: well, this is a small world. And Mare just awkward grimaces and says: and getting smaller.

7. Anyway, the girls make them go on a cute little date, and they sort of talk about why they broke up and why she left, and we get my favorite dialogue exchange from any movie every made and Mare says: well, I got on an airship to Montfort, and... you didn't chase after me. And Cal just sort of leans forward and says quietly: I didn't know you wanted me to. Then we cut to the next day, they're agreeing to send the girls back and forth between them for certain things, and then low and behold their trouble making daughters show up wearing identical outfits, and the girls give them their proposal. They will tell them who is who after they go on the camping trip. (Aka the one Mare takes Avery on every year in Paradise Valley). Cal crouches down and says: This one is Cori, I'm sure of it. And the one he's point to who is actually Avery just smirks and says: Are you sure dad? You wouldn't want to take the wrong kid all the way back to Archeon would you? And then they're forced to agree to said camping trip.

8. Cue my absolute favorite part of the 1998 movie, where we cut to the fiancé going: AND WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO FOR FIVE DAYS? STAY HOME AND KNITT? And Mare just turns around and says: listen, we're in a bit of a situation here. And then Cal's coming down the stairs from the Barrow's town house with his backpack like: 🙃 I have such bad timing. And Fiancé turns around and says: hold on, why is he going? And mare's irritated as all get out so she just snorts and says: because it's part of the deal... we go on this trip... together. And then Cal walks up and being the little shit he is says: is there a problem? And the guys just looks him up and down and goes: Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm not so sure I'm okay with this. And Cal immediately knows how to make this man's life fucking miserable, so he says: Oh I completely understand. The ex in the next sleeping bag is just... so awkward. And Mare just puts her head in her hand and Cal gives this guy his best sympathetic grin and says: which is why I suggest you go with them. And the girls in the truck are like: DAD! NO! And Cal's just like: No I insist. And then the guy is walking down the stair, looking for all intents and purposely like a jackass, and Cal's behind him, already trying to contain his laughter. And the guy gets in the truck, looking annoyed as all get out, and the girls are pissed, and Mare's just looking at Cal like: I can't decide if I wanna kill you or laugh with you. And then Cal just pats the side of the truck and says: alright have fun. And the guy kinda leans across Mare and says: I mean on second thought, maybe this isn't the best idea... I mean... I"m not much a... nature person. And Cal's like mock horrified and says: No, no you really should. This is a great opportunity for you to spend time with the girls and get to know them. And then he gives that jack as his prize winning, shit eating grin and says: Cause starting next week, they're half yours. And Mare just sticks her tongue between her teeth with her smile and puts her shades on and drives away. Cue Kilorn coming up next to Cal and smirking with him and saying; Oh I would pay BIG money to see that man climb a mountain.

9. The camping trip goes miserable, they come back early cause the girls create chaos and the fiancé leaves. Delivering the key line: Once we're married, I'm shipping those BRATS off to Tiraxes. Got it? IT's me or them, take your pick.

They come up the stairs to the town house and Cal's there (wearing super comfy clothes) and is mock shocked when he says: what happened? And the Avery just goes: we've been grounded. and Corie comes up behind her saying until the end of the century. And Cal's just like: why? What happened? and Cori says: we played a couple harmless pranks, and [insert fiancé's name] got a little upset. And Mare storms up behind them and says: Upset? A little Upset? Then she glares at the girls and then at Cal and says: But like father like daughters. You're grounding starts now. And the girls go inside, and Mare just kinda stays out there, fiddling with the engagement ring she took off and says: One day I'm going to have to thank them for this. And then Mare and Cal kinda of have a cute little conversation and then that night, they have their little romantic moment where they almost kiss, but then Mare pulls back. The next day, they leave. (At this point they weren't in Ascendant, they were in a smaller Montfort city near Paradise Valley). So Mare goes home. And once she and Avery get there, they walk into their apartment, and Cori's sitting on the couch, and Mare's just like: oh... um hello. And Cori just smiles and says: it took us about two minutes after you left to realize we were never letting you go again. And Mare's like: us? And then Cal comes out, and is like: us. And Then we get my Second favorite dialogue exchange of all time where Mare goes: so what now? Am I supposed to... to say that we're going to work all this out, that we'll... fall in love again and raise out children together and cry hysterically? And Cal just pulls her close with a smile and says: Yes, to all of that. Only you dont have to cry hysterically.

Then we get happy ending cause YAY the girls won and their parents are back together. Anyway, as you can see I've thought about this AU for far too long and I actually came super close to writing it but then decided, eh better not.

[gra-sonas]

I love you but please PLEASE stop shipping Tyler and Michael irl, whenever you say something people take it as godspeak and we all know Michael is straight and, last we knew Tyler was in a committed relationship. You stopped identifying as bisexual but you shouldn't throw us all under the bus

Okay, my first reaction upon reading your ask was IGNORE IT, my second was MOCK IT (at least the part about Vlamburn). But it's been a couple of hours since you sent it, and I'm going to answer in earnest bc it really irks and upsets me.

First of all: I couldn't possibly ship them any harder than they ship themselves. If asked, I'm sure they'd very much agree with me describing what they are doing as flirting (or something similar). And there's nothing wrong with that? It's all harmless fun and feeds into our excitement for Malex. Big fucking deal.

However, I'm under no illusion that they could possibly be a couple irl. Apart from identifying as straight, Vlamis is clearly very happy in his relationship with Aurora (and vice versa), and I have the utmost respect for that (they are cute af together, and I wish them nothing but eternal happiness, if anything, I'm shipping their love!).

Tyler's personal life/relationship status on the other hand is exactly that: personal. I appreciate everything he's sharing, but I'm not going to speculate about intimate details (I get tons of asks about that regularly, and they all remain unanswered bc it's none of my fucking business 🤷‍♀️).

So, am I going to stop doing what I do regarding Vlamburn on social media or the way I post about them? Hell no, why would I? It's all harmless fun and very much on par with what they are doing. There's nothing "inappropriate" or "disrespecting" about my posts, and honestly, if there are people who can't differentiate between the harmless flirty fun they are providing, and assuming they are fucking irl, that's on them, not me.

I'm not responsible for how people read their relationship - which imo is that of two colleagues (who also happen to be good friends) who are clearly very fond of each other, adore each other, and have zero issues with intimacy, innuendo, or riling each other up in the comment sections. Do I believe they are a couple or fuck irl? No, I don't. Do I imply any of that in my posts? Also no.

They are (willingly and fully aware) playing into a fantasy, where sometimes the lines between the fictional couple they play on screen, and their rl friendship can get a bit blurry, but never in a way that would make me think there's actually more.

If anyone else does that, that's their thing (and I'm not shaming here, just keep it away from the actors), but I'm certainly not running an RPF blog here, where I promote the illusion that they are secretly a couple.

whenever you say something people take it as godspeak

Uhm... WHAT??? I'm fairly certain that's not the case. I have zero authority (least of all any kind of godly authority) over anyone. We're all just fans here. I happen to have an active blog, yes, but I'm only stating my personal opinion here, and I'm trying to provide information and facts, and that's it.

I'm not here telling anyone what to ship, how to ship it, or what not to ship. And really, for all I care, as long as no harm is done to any real persons (especially the actors themselves), if people want to ship Vlamburn "for real", go forth and do whatever floats your boat. RPF is first and foremost a fantasy, a what-if. And lbr, these two make it REALLY easy to imagine things.

I understand that it's not for everyone, and the concept of RPF/RP shipping makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable. And that's perfectly valid. No one has to like it.

But again, unless the actors are being roped into anything, are made feeling uncomfortable, or people do shit like attack Aurora for being with Vlam (to my knowledge none of this has happened, and I hope to god that it never will!), and as long as it's strictly kept in fandom circles, I have no issues with it.

You stopped identifying as bisexual but you shouldn't throw us all under the bus

And this is the part of your ask where I got angry and irritated and then really upset. What the everloving fuck are you talking about???

Last time I checked (THIS VERY SECOND), I'm as bisexual as ever. I've fought fucking hard to claim that label for myself, and just bc I also happen to identify as demi/gray-A, that doesn't make me any less bisexual.

Demi for me is just an additional identifier that describes a little more closely how I feel. I don't identify as asexual tho. I love and cherish the ace community, and I feel very close to them, but I am 100% bisexual, and no one gets to tell me I'm not. Fucking hell. How dare you!

Srsly, I'm so pissed about this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to come to terms with how you feel, how fucking hard it is to find labels that might fit, and then claim any of them for yourself, always doubting, always worrying you're not "bi enough"?

And then some holier-than-thou queer police asshole on the internet comes along and tells you you're not what you know is your truth? Don't ever do that to anyone else, it fucking sucks.

Thanks for making me angry and upset, I really didn't need that today (or any other day).

And really, where and how am I "throwing anyone under the bus"??? The way I identify has nothing to do with this blog, the way I post, and least of all with whether anyone thinks Vlamburn are more than friends/colleagues.

Man, next time you consider sending an ask like this to someone you claim you "love", think again. And then don't type any of this BS into a tiny box and send it to a real person.

Thanks for making an otherwise happy day unnecessarily more shitty.

[mirrerover]

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.” 

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

 Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks. 

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could. 

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all. 

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre. 

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare. 

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now. 

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

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

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 79

This was another chapter that was soooo fun to write.  Don’t worry, I’m not getting off the plot, swear.  So, thank you @charlylimph-blog for helping me flesh these pranks out. Also, thanks to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for beta-reading.

Disclaimer: Food mentions below the cut.  I also want to clarify that I do not hate brussels sprouts.  I did, for several decades, though, and added that to one character in this chapter.

Given my track record with handling ship-wide issues in a personal capacity, I made a point to set up an actual appointment with both Grey and Xiomara to discuss our concerns.  Unfortunately, that meant it would be a few days before we all had time in our schedule.  All I could do in the meantime was try to do my actual job and pay more attention to odd behaviors of people around me.

I would like to submit for the record that I wasn’t succeeding with focusing on work terribly well.  And I wasn’t the only one.

“Seventeen,” Alistair greeted me as he arrived.  For what could only be dramatic emphasis, he removed a scarf and flung it over the back of the chair across from me.

“Ark’s temperature controlled,” I pointed out, staring at the scarf.  It actually looked soft.

“Seventeen different individuals,” he continued, ignoring my comment. “In a sum total of six groups, between three and eight people per group. Several were in more than one group.”

Wow. Go, Detective Worthington.  “This was just on your way from your quarters to my office?”

“From the cantina on deck fourteen, actually.” He stalked over to the food console, returning with a plate of food and two beverages.

“So, one, that’s an even shorter walk than the one from your quarters.”

He nodded around a forkful of pasta before swallowing. “Which makes it even more concerning.”

“True.” Taking the tea he offered me, I gestured at his penne.  Part of me was pleased to see it was one of my recipes from Before that I added to my profile once I learned how. “I thought you just ate?”

“I attempted to, certainly.  However, there have been several issues with the consoles in the cantinas.  I was given to believe they were resolved, but somehow I still ended up with brussels sprouts instead of capers.” He glared at me archly. “You are well aware of how I feel about those atrocities.”

“Even if you did like them, I can’t imagine substituting capers for brussels sprouts and still coming even remotely close to whatever you asked for.”

Already, he was standing to dispose of his empty dish. “I was sure that your console would be safe, but I selected a dish without capers, either way.”

“That’s fair.” Although I was mildly confused why he thought the console in my office would be ‘safe’ from the malfunction he just mentioned, but I also had no idea about the consoles in the cafeterias acting up, so he may have a point.

I was about to ask for details regarding the people he had seen.  I really was. However, I was preempted by the actual trumpet from the Book of Revelation started screaming from the speaker in the ceiling of my office.  

“BAYYYYY-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE shark, do do do do do do!”

I screamed and jumped hard enough to fall out of my chair, while Alistair had flattened himself against the wall in an effort to escape the cacophony. Covering my ears, I begged Miys to disable the speaker.  I was reasonably certain I was yelling it, but either way the noise cut off abruptly and I was able to get up off the floor.

“What the bloody hell - bloody hell!” Alistair jumped abruptly at the figure that was now standing in my office. I wasn’t surprised, either, when I looked.

Standing right by my now-closed door was a shorter-statured figure, wobbling on its feet.  I couldn’t even really see the face, because my eyes would not look away from the top of their head. Specifically the earmuffs perched on there.

Five. Pairs. Of. Them. One pair was standard noise cancelling, but two were fuzzy - one neon green, another sparkly purple - and the other two, while not fuzzy, did have patterns in similarly bright colors: one set pink and green plaid, one fluorescent yellow and blue stripes.  Yet another pair was dangling around the figure’s neck, along with what appeared to be two pairs of earplugs.  I was getting the idea that the blaring music was something they were familiar with, against their will.

While puzzling at the noise-blocking hardware, I finally noticed the words across the figure’s hoodie.  It very clearly said ‘Fuck this shit’, framed by delicate vines and flowers. “Charly?” I asked, completely confused, before realizing she likely couldn’t hear me.  I gestured for her to remove the headphones, and once she did, I tried again. “Charly.  What is going on?”

“I have not had a hot bath in two weeks. Every time I walk through a door, the room plays that awful song until I leave the room, and cold spaghetti squash should be illegal! Very, VERY illegal!” As she spoke, her voice choked up more and more, and by the time she finished she was crying in my office.  Again. “I can barely eat, I can only sleep if I’m exhausted and practically pass out…” She trailed off.

I got her seated and rubbed her arms.  Turning to Alistair, I spoke softly.  “Can you please bring some of the stew from screen six in my file?  And probably water for now.”  To Charly, I reassured her. “It’s your beef stew recipe, the one you gave me.  For whatever reason, my console here and the one at home never glitched out when the ones in the cafeterias did.”

She sniffed and nodded.  My assistant quickly returned, gently setting down the stew and warm bread, along with some butter.  He narrowed his eyes at me, sharply. “I took the liberty of also getting some butter for the bread, because clearly some of us are heathens who serve warm bread without butter.”

“Some of us like to spread cheese sometimes,” I defended myself. “Okay, hon.  First, I need you to drink at least half of that water so you don’t dehydrate from crying.”  A very tiny white lie.  The real reason was an old trick I learned back Before - humans aren’t wired to be able to cry and swallow at the same time, so we stop crying if we are drinking something.  

Once that kicked in, I let her dig into the stew.  Keeping a careful eye to make sure she didn’t accidentally inhale anything in the literal sense while demonstrating the figurative sense, I tried to figure things out. “First and foremost, has anything else happened, anything that could have caused you injury?”

“Juss annoyig,” she told me around a bite of bread. Swallowing, she clarified. “Anytime I try to bathe, I only get cold showers.  No hot water, even the sonic function gives me cold water.  I’ve had to resort to letting a bucket of water sit out long enough to be room temp.  Anytime I try to get any sort of food or drink other than water, all I get is cold, icky spaghetti squash.  You saw what happens when I walk into a room.” She gestured at the speaker on the ceiling. “I’m not even sure how you stopped that.”

“I had Noah disable the speaker entirely,” I admitted. “So, all mid-range psychological torture? All irritants, nothing actually dangerous in and of itself?”

“Except the fact that I’m so jumpy I can’t sleep, I guess.  This is the first thing I’ve eaten in two weeks that wasn’t something Coffey had to go get from a canteen, bring it back, and give it to me.  And even that only works if it isn’t something I actually like.”

“But there are over a dozen full-time food vendors?” I was so confused.

She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t trust other people’s cooking.  Yours, yes. Tyche’s, yes. Mine, of course.  But that’s it.”

“Miss Harper,” Alistair interrupted, gentle but horrified. “You said it’s been two weeks….”

She waved the concern away. “Two weeks of eating food I don’t like but don’t gag on is way better than cold, yucky spaghetti squash or food that may have… crawly things in it. You do know that some people cook with…. those things, right?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Objection withdrawn,” he sighed. “However, I do believe that part of what you are experiencing may be part of the wider issues we’ve been having with the food consoles.  All of the public ones have been malfunctioning recently, and every time they are reset, it happens again.  I nearly ate brussels sprouts today, for heaven’s sake!”

“Okay, seriously Alistair? They aren’t that bad. Stop being dramatic,” I scolded. When I turned back to Charly, she was staring at her lap, very focused on the hem of her sweatshirt.  Fear spiked through me like ice. “Charly? What is it? Did something else happen?”

“The consoles might be acting up because of what’s happening with me,” she admitted quietly.  “Not the other way around.”

Huh? “What do you mean?  You think the same person who is doing this to you is going to target everyone?” I could feel my panic levels rising.  Suspicious people, maybe a cult, were increasing in numbers throughout the ship.  Maybe they were sending a message? It was pretty well known that Charly was close with Tyche and myself - 

“IthinkthisishappeningbecauseofaprankIpulledandsomeonegotmad.” Once she finished blurting out her statement, she screwed her eyes closed and seemed to be waiting for something bad to happen.  When nothing happened - I don’t think Alistair even understood what she said, and I know I didn’t - she cracked one eye to peek at our faces.

“In English?” I asked, shaking my head.

“I think...I may have...broken? The food consoles? I might have played a prank? And someone didn’t like it?”

I fought the urge to go entirely limp as all the panic and dread I had been building up rapidly plummeted.  “So, all of this… you broke the ship… it’s all a prank war?”  She nodded, face scrunched up in embarrassed apology. I pinched my nose before running a hand down my face. “And you started it, you believe?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” she cried.  “It was a harmless prank, I freaking swear. I programmed the food consoles to give boba tea as every one hundredth beverage dispensed. That’s it. I even made sure to program it to be sugar free! Just matcha tea, lactose-free milk, sugar substitute, and the little boba pearls.  At most, someone would get it, go ‘hey this isn’t what I asked for?’, try again, and get the right thing.”

“Except that’s not the worst thing that happened,” I prompted.

“No, it isn’t! After about…five days? Suddenly all thiiiiiiis,” she flailed expansively, “started happening!  There is no way you can tell me that I deserve all this for erroneous boba tea here and there.” Charly stared at me, pointedly.

To be honest, it really did seem like overkill. 

“Well,” I sighed. “The good news is, only a select few people have that level of access to the ship to do something so far reaching.” My fingers drummed on the table as I tried to think of ways to narrow our list of culprits further. “Obviously, they don’t mean you any actual harm, just a significant level of annoyance and inconvenience.  And it would have to be someone who would take boba tea to be a grievous insult apparently…” Fuck.  

My head snapped up as I leapt to my feet and bolted for the console. Once I had a boba tea, exactly the way Charly described, I took a huge pull from the straw. Chilled, clean flavor, no notable texture, not terribly sweet, no aftertaste…

And chewy boba pearls. Like little candies. Most importantly? They were squishy. 

“Mother fuck….”  Charly and Alistair both gave me questioning looks.  “I will one-hundred percent admit that your prank had very innocent intentions.  But before I tell you who did this, I want to be clear: absolutely no retribution, and no more dinking around in public resources. Deal?”  She nodded so hard I thought her neck may break.  “Someone with an enormous food aversion to anything ‘squishy’ ended up with one of your drinks.” I jiggled mine for emphasis. “And I am willing to bet they got a mouthful of tapioca before they realized it.  They absolutely knew there was no error - they only drink water, and they are extremely sensitive to caffeine.  Once they realized it was a deliberate error? There was no saving you, girl.”

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and I could see everything falling into place.  “Oh no. Nonononononono.  I didn’t think Derek used the public consoles!  I never would have done it if I knew that!  Or exempted him, or something… Oh gosh, I have to go apologize. I feel awful!”  With that, she bolted from the room, throwing a “thanks for the stew!” over her shoulder on the way out.

Alistair just shook his head. “She really pulled a prank on the one person we can’t keep out of anything on the ship, who we have to rely on his good intentions?”

“Obviously, not on purpose,” I pointed out.

“It still doesn’t explain the small cabbages that contaminated my lunch.”

Taking a long pull from my tea, I tilted my head side to side. “It really kind of does.  Charly hates capers with a passion, based solely on what they look like.”

“Madam Councillor. Brussles. Sprouts. Surely there was a better option.”

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[jothowrote]

Faulty mechanism (warm-up)

(I wrote this unfinished TMA/Mechanisms crossover as a warm-up for Nano two and a half years ago and just found it again on an old hard drive - it’s set around season 2 TMA. I thought I’d let it see the light of day, since we live in interesting times and it hopefully might distract people for a time, like it did me.)

Faulty mechanism (warm-up)

The Jon that walked into work on Monday was not the same Jon that had been left working late in the archives on Friday night. Martin was pretty sure that anyone with eyes could see it – and perhaps eyes were not even necessary, what with the pungent aroma of tobacco and alcohol that hung around this ‘other’ Jon like a haze. Not to mention he was smiling.

Martin immediately suspected foul play. If you had read the kind of statements he had, then it wasn’t completely unusual for people to vanish and be replaced, although usually the changeling made a bit more effort to blend in.

The Monday morning had begun strangely anyway, as Martin had been surprised to find himself the first at work. Jon had become more or less of a permanent fixture at the archives, working so late and arriving so early that one could almost assume that he simply didn’t go home. The small cot bed remained untouched, however – Martin had checked. And so, on coming in to work and finding Jon’s office empty, Martin had decided to take advantage of that fact and hang around outside it, hoping to catch Jon before he mired himself in work and stage a sort-of intervention. He’d even tried to recruit Tim and Sasha to his cause as they both arrived at the institute for the morning. Sasha had said something about being too busy and slipped off – Tim had snorted and said some very rude things about Jon before vanishing into the tiny kitchenette for his morning coffee.

Not one to be deterred by something so insignificant as no back-up, Martin had squared his shoulders and continued to lurk outside Jon’s empty office. As the morning ticked by, and there was still no sign of Jon, he had grown steadily more anxious.

`He’s probably just having a breakdown at home,’ Tim said, on his way past with his third coffee of the morning. `Makes a nice change from him having it here. Just leave it – I’m not doing your work too.’

Martin decided to give it until lunch.

At one minute to twelve, the door by the stairs swung open wildly – startling Martin, who had been staring unfocused in the opposite direction at the lift doors in steadily decreasing expectation – and Jon sauntered through.

It was only `Jon’ in the loosest sense of the word. As Martin watched, the Jon-impersonator swaggered up the corridor with no limp to speak of, a bottle of something smelling strong as petrol sloshing in one hand. The other hand, Martin couldn’t help but notice, was hovering over a gun in a hip holster.

Martin was frozen in confusion and perhaps a little fear as the stranger-Jon walked right up to him and paused in front of the office door. When he made as if to open the door, Martin let out a small squeak of indignation. He was promptly engulfed in thick tobacco smoke.

Coughing, his eyes watering, Martin did nothing but watch as the stranger winked at him and went straight into the Head Archivist’s office, slamming the door behind him.

`You’re telling me that Jon’s been replaced by some kind of steampunk cowboy that looks exactly like him?’

Tim, on his fourth coffee, looked unimpressed.

`We’ve been attacked by flesh-eating worms, but this is where you draw the line?’

`Are you sure it isn’t actually Jon just having a midlife crisis?’

`It may have looked like Jon superficially, but apart from that he’s a completely different person.’

Tim squinted at Martin, and reached forward as though to feel his forehead.

`Are you feeling ok?’

Martin slapped his hand away irritably.

`I’m not hallucinating Jon dressed as a steampunk cowboy, that would be really weird.’

`And yet would explain so much. Are you sure it’s not just –‘

The door to the kitchenette slammed open and fake-Jon strolled in.

`Is that coffee I smell?’

He pushed past Tim and Tim’s gaping mouth and poured the rest of the pot into a mug. To Martin’s annoyance, it was his mug.

Fake-Jon swigged at the coffee – Tim’s thick black tar that Martin avoided – and sighed.

`Anything stronger? Only I’m out of whiskey.’

`Who the fuck are you?’ Tim said, finally getting over his shock as he watched the rest of his precious coffee quickly vanish down the stranger’s gullet. `You’re not Jon.’

`Well, I am Jon – Jonny d’Ville, to be exact.’

`You’re not our Jon,’ Martin said, his voice going embarrassingly squeaky again. Jonny d’Ville grinned, and it was a violent grin.

`Ah, sweet. Your Jon isn’t here at the moment – I’m afraid I’m what’s here instead.’

Elias, apparently disturbed by Tim’s indignant shouting, chose that moment to poke his head around the door to the tiny kitchen with a supremely disapproving expression.

`Don’t you all have work to do?’

Martin opened his mouth, but all he managed was another squeak. Tim, who had gone back to gawping, said nothing.

`Oh, and by the way, Jon – you really need to start being a little more considerate with the people who come in to give their statements. I’ve been getting more complaints.’

Then Elias paused, and looked Jonny up and down.

`And is that get-up really suitable for work?’ he sniffed.

Martin saw Jonny’s hand twitch towards the gun in his hip holster, and had a sudden moment of complete dread, but Elias had already let the door swing shut behind him.

`That’s the big boss man, then?’ Jonny asked, his grin starting up. `Isn’t he a ray of sunshine.’

He turned to Tim and Martin, his grin wide and dark. It was unsettling to see such a look on Jon’s usually sour bur harmless face.

`So,’ he said, twirling the gun in his hand, `what is it you do for fun around here?’

*

Martin had been summarily dispatched to the nearest off-license in order to provide his new boss with more whiskey, and Sasha caught him in the corridor on his way back to the archives, clutching the plastic bags and wincing every time they made incriminating clinking noises.

`What’s with the Jon look-a-like?’ she asked in a whisper.

`He wouldn’t say until he had more whiskey,’ Martin said dejectedly.

`Makes a bit of a change from the old Jon, though,’ Sasha said, grinning. `Even though they look exactly the same, this one somehow manages to look kind of hot.’

`Eww, Sasha.’

`What?’ she shrugged. `Everyone likes a bad boy, Martin.’

`He looks deranged,’ Martin hissed.

`Yeah, that too. Maybe it’s the crazy eyes, maybe it’s the leather, maybe it’s the eyeliner. Maybe it’s that he’s not stalking us all and watching our houses at night.’

`Jon’s having a hard time right now-‘

‘Oh, please don’t start with all that shit, Martin. I don’t know why you’re so desperate to make allowances for him – I mean, I know you bonded or whatever,’ Sasha made sarcastic air quotes around the word, `when Prentiss attacked us, but honestly, even you must be able to see that he’s going completely off his rocker.’

`I just… he means well…’

`He treats us all like shit, Martin. You can’t keep defending him if you value yourself at all.’

Martin gave a deep sigh. The bags clinked.

`To be honest, it’ll be nice having a break from Jon. And this Jonny guy sounds like he has loads of great stories.’

`Oh, I do,’ said a strange parody of Jon’s voice from behind them, making Martin jump. `And you can hear them, just as soon as I get a drink or four. Is that my whiskey?’

Martin nodded, and Jonny’s smile grew wider.

`Well then, let’s get this party started.’

*

It ended up being Martin, Tim, and the new weird Jon in the Head Archivist’s office, as Sasha – who had been very distant lately – had pushed off to see her new boyfriend. Elias remained completely oblivious to the change in Jon, and probably assumed they were hard at work.

Jonny poured them each a whiskey and downed almost a full bottle by himself. Then he settled back in Jon’s chair, put his feet up on the desk, and sighed.

`So, where would you like me to start?’

Tim opened his mouth, eyes wide, but Martin got there first.

`Where’s our Jon? Is he ok? Is he going to come back?’

Jonny grinned.

`Your Jon is most likely on my ship right now. No doubt my crew are… looking after him, in their own way. He’ll be back. Eventually.’

`Does he have to come back?’ Tim muttered. Martin elbowed him. `Ouch,’ he grumped. `Your elbows are really sharp.’

`Why is he on your ship? Where is your ship? Why do you look exactly the same?’

Jonny laughed, and drank some more.

`Aren’t you full of questions? I should perhaps clarify that my ship, Aurora, is a starship – and it’s not so much a question of `where’ as `when’.’

`A starship,’ Tim said, blankly.

`As for the resemblance – well, I’m only making a guess here, as I’m stuck with you and not on the Aurora – but it’s a very well-educated guess. I can only assume that when space-time tends towards infinity in universes like ours that these strange resemblances do occur simply due to statistics. And for some reason, your Jon and I have swapped places.’

`It might be something Jon touched in artefact storage,’ Martin said, biting his lip anxiously. `God knows there’s enough weirdness in there to cause something like this.’

`Why should we believe you?’ Tim asked. Jonny laughed.

`Why would I lie?’

Tim shot Martin a look. Martin shrugged.

`Good point,’ he said, taking a swig of his whiskey and resigning himself to the complete mess his life had become. `Carry on.’

&

Jon had for once made it back to his flat rather than just collapsing into the airbed in the archives, but it was late and he barely had time to register the dust and neglect before collapsing onto his bed and passing out.

He woke up with his face pressed to cold metal, which was ever so gently vibrating. He flung out an arm to feel around for the light switch, and the resultant crash woke him fully.

It transpired that he’d inadvertently upset a precarious pile of bottles, all empty and smelling strongly of old alcohol. They’d rolled across the floor, clanking and crashing as they did so, and Jon looked properly at his surroundings.

The small room, which had metal walls and apparently the entire contents of a bottle bank, was neither his bedroom nor the archives.

Jon looked around, blinked a few times, and really wished the bottles weren’t all empty.

It took him a while to get to the door without his walking stick, but using the wall to prop himself and sheer determination, he made it and began to hobble down the corridor beyond.

The background humming – along with the gentle vibration of the walls he clung to and the floor beneath his socked feet – made him feel faintly queasy. This was not helped by the panic rising up in his throat.

Something small, many-legged, furry, and glowing green dropped from somewhere above him. Jon screamed.

The small green thing squealed back and shot off in the opposite direction.

`For fuck’s sake, Jonny,’ someone said behind him, in a thick Russian accent. `Do you have to keep shooting them?’

Jon turned rapidly and lost his balance, only just catching himself on a nearby bit of pipe. The newcomer squinted at him from underneath a furrowed brow and a pissed expression.

`Just how drunk are you?’ she asked, incredulously.

Jon pulled his body, his dignity and his bravery up.

`Who are you, and why do you know my name?’ he demanded, his voice suitably strong, albeit a little squeaker than he might have liked. `And where the hell am I?’

The woman just stared at him.

`Jonny – just what have you been drinking?’ she asked. `Or – wait – did you eat that reconstituted spinach I left around the mess? I told you it killed an octokitten!’

Jon felt overwhelmed but pushed on. The woman was strange – hell, the whole situation was absolutely mental – but there were no flesh-eating bugs in sight, and that meant he wasn’t having a nightmare, at least.

Although if this was a fever dream, maybe he should go to the doctors when he woke up.

`I’m sorry,’ he said, snippily, `but do I know you?’

The woman just stared at him.

Another gently glowing creature dropped down from the ceiling, screamed at the sight of him, and skittered away down the corridor.

The woman sighed, deeply.

`You’re not Jonny, are you,’ she said, finally.

`My name is Jonathan Sims,’ Jon said.

`Hmm. Well, this is a strange day. I’ll get the others together – come with me, not-Jonny.’

The `others’ consisted of a motley selection of people in various strange outfits, some of whom were more metal than flesh.

Jon was feeling more and more out of his depth, and sure that his imagination was not so good as to dream this up.

`So, this isn’t Jonny?’ asked one.

`Isn’t it obvious?’ said another. `He’s clearly a completely different person.’

`Looks exactly the same to me,’ the woman Jon had met first, whose name turned out to be Nastya, said. `Even scared the octokittens away.’

`Are you kidding?’ said the one who’d introduced themselves as Ashes O’Reilly, quartermaster. None of the others had given their names. `He hasn’t shot any of us since we came in here.’

There was a chorus of agreement.

`Good point,’ said man who was more brass than skin. `Can we keep this Jonny? He seems a lot nicer than ours.’

`We should probably try and work out what happened,’ Ashes said, although they made no move to do so and looked distinctly bored by the proceedings.

Jon’s leg finally gave way on him, and he sagged, defeated, onto a nearby bench.

`Look,’ he said, head in his hands, `I don’t know who any of you are. I don’t know who this `Jonny’ is who you all know, but he’s not me. I just… I need to get back home. To the archives.’

They all looked at each other.

`This is definitely not our Jonny,’ said Nastya. `So what do we do now?’

&

Jonny toyed with his gun, bored out of his mind. For an archive full of creepy stories, he was disappointed in the lack of things to shoot. He supposed, if he could be bothered, he could poke about in the dreaded `Artefact storage’ the two research assistants had spoken about in such grim tones, but he didn’t think their uppity boss would appreciate him shooting up a priceless antique. Although maybe then he could shoot the boss… he hadn’t liked the look of him.

Martin – the one who seemed most upset by his supplanting the `real’ Jonathan, had talked a bit about the time they’d been overrun by flesh-eating worms, which sounded like a lot of fun – sadly, it had apparently been sorted out long before Jonny arrived.

He clicked his safety on and off, sighing. There weren’t even octokittens to terrorize. He didn’t think he’d ever actually miss the blasted creatures.

And yet here he was, pining for his ship, surrounded by dust and paper and fear. There was a story here, somewhere, but they already had a way to tell it – they didn’t need the help of the Mechanisms.

He pulled his harmonica out of his waistcoat, played a little tune. His go-to currently was the anthem of General Snow’s resistance. He felt attached to the defiant tune – he had been there just before Jack had gone down in battle, seen the kid sink his last drink.

Jack the giant killer hadn’t wanted to be made into a hero in a story he didn’t deserve, but he got made into one anyway. It made Jonny feel a little nostalgic for that bloody war, in all honestly. There hadn’t been a good war like that in a while.

The best wars were always when the two sides became mirror images to one another, in the end.

A hesitant knock snapped him out of his reminiscing. Martin poked his head around the door, his face falling almost comically.

`Oh,’ he said. `It’s you.’

`Sorry,’ Jonny grinned. `Still the wrong Jon, I’m afraid.’

Martin looked at the harmonica.

`You play that?’

`No – I keep it around for decoration. Yes, I fucking play it,’ Jonny said. `It’s something to do with my hands that isn’t shooting people.’

`Oh, good,’ said Martin, squeakily. `That’s… that’s good.’

`Anything interesting happening?’

`Not much – although Elias will probably be along soon, so you might want to… I don’t know... pretend to be more like Jon?’

`What does your Jon do all day?’

`Well, record statements, mostly.’

`On this?’ Jonny dangled the tape recorder between two of his fingers, looking at it distastefully.

`Careful!’ Martin lunged for it, knocking over a pile of statements and tripping over some dusty boxes. Empty CO2 canisters clanked around his feet. Jonny laughed.

At that moment, the ajar door opened farther, and Elias Bouchard walked into the room. He was greeted by the sight of Jonny cackling, feet still up on the desk, tape recorder still dangling from his hands, Martin on the floor and surrounded by old yellowing statements and empty fire extinguishers.

`I thought I heard you… laughing,’ Elias said, slowly. Jonny met his gaze with a violent grin.

`I tripped,’ Martin said, breathless, scrambling to his feet. `You know me, so clumsy.’ He tried for a laugh, but it sounded a little panicked.

`Hmm,’ said Elias, still locked in eye-contact with Jonny. `Well… as long as there’s not a problem.’

`Nope,’ Jonny said, still grinning.

Elias shut the door behind him.

`He knows,’ Jonny said, smile abruptly dropping as he turned to Martin.

`He knows?’

`That I’m not your Jon.’

`We all know that, though,’ Martin said, shrugging. `It’s not exactly hard to tell.’

`No – he knows. I don’t think he knows what I am, exactly, but he knows more than he’s letting on.’

`But it’s just Elias,’ Martin said, as he attempted to gather together the spilt statements. `Oh god, Jon is going to kill me – I’ve probably ruined his system…’

`To be honest,’ said Jonny, `I think he’ll be so relieved to be back that he won’t care.’

`That doesn’t sound like Jon,’ Martin said, still manically trying to make some order out of the chaos his flailing limbs had created. `He’s been struggling lately – I don’t know what this will do to him but it’s not going to be good…’

‘Well, you get on with that, then,’ Jonny said as he swung his legs to the floor, spurs clacking.

‘Where are you going?’ Martin called after him, as he swaggered to the door.

‘I’m going to look for something to shoot,’ Jonny said, winking, as he disappeared out of the office.

‘You can’t just… leave!’ Martin said, but Jonny had already gone.

[avenger-hawk]

(1/3)HELLO! It's me, Anon who loves you again(lol). But you can call me Zera since I feel like we are going to interact more now (if u want to of course). But Damn, I just went back to finally read your response and I agree so much with what you say. I have an entire essay to write back and this shitty ask will not let me express myself lmao. Anyway, those past few days I felt so shitty just because of how degratory people can be on the internet because they think they are anonymous.

(2/3)Tumblr at this point is so…f*ucked. Constant slandering denigration, muckraking and aspersions. Some people try to negate the toxic and keep it alive but this platform is a breeding place for mob mentality. I’ve seen so many people bullied out of the place just for having a differing opinion. And so many people being all woke trying to “spill tea”, “expose” real people. They tarnish people’s feelings and reputations all behind their safe anonymous cocoon.

(3/3) And they justify this abuse/slander with “I am allowed to express my opinions so gtfo if you don’t agree bitch”. They play the victim when people tell them that opinions do not mean denigrating real people for bullshit reasons with no real proof. At this point sweetie, I am just ranting. Sorry if I am bothering you with those negative thoughts but I felt so shitty those past few days and you are pratically the only one I can get behind in this hellhole tumblr shit. Also, I am writing out-

(Last Part) As I was TRYING TO SAY before the limit bullshit cut me off, I am writing out a response to your previous response to my previous ask. It’s way too long already so I will either need to send you through dm or cut it out into pieces after I have fully written everything out. Thankkk you so much for talking to me despite me being so sudden with you. I appreciate you so much and I hope you are taking care out there (both physically AND mentally). Also, loving those art reblogs

Hello Zera and nice to meet you by your name (or nickname, it’s cute anyway~) and I’m glad you like my fanart reblogs.

I am sorry that you are feeling shitty…it’s frustrating, to say the least, to see people hide behind anonymous and slander blogs, names, real people who are behind them, for an opinion, a taste, whatever. I find irritating even the words/expressions they use, maybe because as a non native English speaker I saw them for the first time used in this bad context so they are only associated to tumblr fake woke idiots and their ‘that’s the tea’ shit. And it’s ironic that they can talk shit about people however they want but when people do the same to them they justify with not only the reasons I listen in my last reply but also with this thing you mentioned, that they are allowed to express their opinion…like, what about the person they slandered? oh but they are not ‘valid’ (I hate this word too) because their opinion is wrong. Says them, ofc. Then ofc they start playing the victim because poor kids, everyone is a bully to them.

It’s ok to rant, I understand your feeling well and I’d like to tell you that if you ‘stop paying attention’ to this it will be ok, but I do fall into the frustration & irritation pit too sometimes. But it happens less often, cause I channeled my fandom time and interested on positive stuff instead and so I want to stay. I don’t want to be preachy or belittle this problem because I know how hard it is (and you can see in my blog that I struggled with these problems directly too, both from dumbasses like those you describe, and from a different kind of creep lol, and even in my other fandom there is slandering and calling out and horrible things), but recently even more, all this coronavirus lockdown (my country is in quarantine since more than a month now) and something horrible that happened to the person I love, made me reconsider certain things. At least for me, at least for now, their importance is dulled down now…Even more than before where I was already detached from fandom dramas.

And since I can see things from a detached perspective I might try ‘suggesting’ something to not let this shit get to you…because life is a b*tch and you can’t allow yourself to suffer for f*ckers who don’t even show themselves, hiding behind an anonymous, or running a shitty blog where they just shit on people, it doesn’t matter.

I don’t engage in fandom discussion (or, like they call it, ‘discourse’, another word I hate) anyway, and I recommend everyone to not engage in anything with those f*ckers. Not because you (not just you Zera but you guys in general) are scared of them but because what they want is attention, and receiving replies, reblogs, attacks, everything, is what they want. blocking them, even making fun of them like they do to others, is ok, cause it’s repaying them with their same treatment. But cut communication. Block people, everyone. These idiots, their friends, those who put likes on their shit, those who put likes on their shit but also to your stuff because they can’t pick a side and maybe they’re good people who don’t think much about these things. Block every single person who irritates you even just a little, and everyone around them. Unfollow people, but mostly block them. The fanarts I post now has little notes compared to the ones I had in the past when I posted them, because I blocked everyone who annoys me, everyone whose opinions annoy me, everyone who starts shit even though I don’t want to speak to them, like every SN/SI/canon stans and puritans and more. I unfollowed friends who followed one of those fake woke b*tches, who reblogged their stuff I didn’t want to see, and made them unfollow me. Marie Kondo my a** lol

And make it clear, so that those who’ll see these people shitting on someone who clearly said they blocked them, will realize who’s bullying who. Maybe it won’t change anything in the short period but in the long run it will, because these assholes have their same behavioral pattern, being overt or even more, covert narcissistic b*tches in need of attention, so if their target ignores them they’ll move to another, in the same ‘area’.

The temptation to check their blogs and see if they attack you, your friends, or what they do in order to protect yourself is strong, but it won’t help getting over this. I know it’s hard and I fell into this a lot, but we all should use fandoms in a positive way to get distracted when we feel like shit because of fandoms…like looking at fanarts, fanfiction or using some private chat group that you know it’s a safe space, even though I read that a dischord chat became moralistic hell unexpectedly, for some the people who joined.

Anyway, sometimes we (and I include myself) fall into this ‘addiction’ where we consider fandom things so important, and we neglect real life people and things…and negative shit like bullying, slandering and all this makes us feel horribly and it’s not different from real life bullying. Sometimes it’s even worse because we join a fandom as a distraction, an escape route sometimes for real life problems, and instead we end up feeling like shit because of it. But, as someone who spent a whole year trying to expose a very bad person who did bad things to me online, and as a person who was slandered many times and always fought back, I can say that letting this affect our real life is bad. Because real life is even harder and we don’t need more weights on our shoulders. And if something like illness or death get close to your circle of people, you realize how all this is pointless, how these f*ckers have no purpose in their pathetic lives other than making others feel bad, and how we can and must fight back everything, but not let it get inside our heads and hearts, where we must keep things we like, our fave characters, ships, dynamics, kinks, people, whatever.

Because, and really everything I say I tried and try on myself first, there will come a time where you’ll look back at this and you’ll realize you might have missed something more important in your life, real or online it doesn’t matter, both are important…Life, I was saying, sometimes is cruel in big and small ways, taking something or someone away from you when you least expect it, making it hard to do the things you like because some a**holes decides it’s wrong, online and offline (like, try feeding crows in my area and see how much hate you can get, and being hated for something so harmless is really horrible, and it’s like the real life representation of online shit imo) is too short to worry about shitty blogs run by shitty people or shitty anons~

I really hope you’re feeling better Zera, and if you celebrate Easter I wish you a happy one!

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!). 

["Android Girl" in the background intensifies]

I'll most likely sink with this ship, I'm afraid. I therefore makes it my task to bring the ship another sickfic, and even if it's kind of the same as before, it's still different in its own way I think. It's kind of OOC here, this much I'll admit, but I got carried away and couldn't stop. It's been a while since I've allowed myself to go wild and far, so this was a bundle of fun and I hope someone else appreciates it!

yeah boi it's another sylvgrid sickfic what ya gonna do 'bout dat

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Tastes Like Iron

Summary: There is a turning point in Sylvain's life and vision of the world around him. A point that just so happens to take place in the middle of a college corridor.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (Modern AU, pre-timeskip personalities) Ship: Ingrid/Sylvain (pre-relationship)

Wordcount: 2.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

----

It’s early in the morning when Ingrid comes up to him, emerald eyes staring right into his soul. She looks angry at him (when isn’t she? She always seems to be angry at him for a reason or the other, this won’t change soon), footsteps heavy in the echoing corridors. It’s not a sight he hasn’t seen before, frankly: they’ve been like this since they were children, only their appearance and buildings around them changing over the time.

It’s a dynamic that feels comfortable, though, so Sylvain is starting to wonder if he isn’t feeling better with this company around. This is a real paradox in itself: who likes to get scolded?

 He’s on his way to class when she bumps into him directly, as she always does to convey her words to him. She takes his scarf in her hand, gets his face nearer to hers (it’s kind of awkward, but he likes it), fury raging in her stare.

“Hello, Sylvain.”

Yet, her frowned eyebrows aren’t of anger, or at least, not as much as one would have thought would they not know Ingrid personally. However, Sylvain knows better than that, knows her better than he’d let on; and guesses this isn’t just going to be about skirt-chasing tendencies he’s trying to keep in check anyway.

Blame it on the butterflies.

 “Oh, hi, Ing,” he tells her as he musters the best grin he can give her right now. “What’s up?”

He keeps a coughing fit in as not to prove the point she’ll inevitably present him with.

“Well, I’d like to know what’s up with you, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t see what you’re talking about,” that fit escapes from his throat anyway. A few passers-by stare at them, but Ingrid seem not to give a single damn about that, so he focuses back on her.

“This. You absolutely know what I’m referring to, Sylvain. Quit granting me for dumb.”

Well, what can he reply to that? She’s already had him figured out, as she’s always done. This is getting tough, but he’s always liked having a challenge, hasn’t he?

“What’s ‘this’, huh? I’m afraid I don’t understand!” But he coughs again and his head feels stuffed, heavy on his shoulders, and he can only hope he’s doing a decent job at hiding how it really is on the inside.

“Stop taking me for a fool.”

 He may have known her since they were children, but that doesn’t prevent Ingrid from surprising him and play him like a fiddle. It’s something she has that people who have tried dating him for his heritage doesn’t have: honesty, frankness, an insight into who he is aside from his surname. There’s no point wallowing in that misery, because he knows where he’s going to end up anyway, and spending time with his childhood friend is worth more than what his family wants him to be.

And it’s because Ingrid has known him since she was a little girl that she does the thing nobody would have in the middle of a corridor like that: put the back of her hand on his forehead, keeping his weight in balance as her frown deepens. He’s spotted for sure.

 “Have you still not seen a doctor, Sylvain?! Take your health more seriously than that, you’re going to infect everybody in the school!”

The way she says his name with heavy insistence, a manner unique to her shall he add, as if she was putting a seal on it to enforce her speech, hurts in a strange, agreeable way.

“I thought you’d be the kind to scold me for not attending class.”

“Urgh, don’t try and smooth-talk me out of this! Go back home before you get someone else sick!”

He shrugs.

“If you insist then…!”

 Without a forewarning, his focus having shifted from retaining the cough in to sounding convincing in his, a fit breaks out in his throat, making its way outside, as he finally stumbles out of her grasp. His body falls forward, hands almost failing to catch him before he can entirely meet the floor. It hurts deeply and seemingly doesn’t stop, until he feels something in there wanting to exit.

Kneeling in the middle of a corridor, Ingrid’s hands wrapped around his chest, he puts a hand against his mouth as the trembles racking his chest push against his palm. The thing who wants out eventually does so, spilling between his fingers, and it doesn’t feel like harmless phlegm having formed because of the infection.

 When the fit lets off, Sylvain glances at the contents of his hand, only to realize how deep he’s gone.

Red slips off from his fingers, some dripping onto the floor, and he suddenly feels much sicker than before. No injury has ever made him react this way.

 He glances at Ingrid, panting, to notice her expression has changed from concern to horror. Her mouth is in a sort of awe as she gulps, her hands moving on their own to put his back against the wall while her stare doesn’t let go, eyes trying to search for an answer.

“This is it,” she says with a trembling voice trying to sound steady. “Sylvain, you’re seeing someone, even if you don’t want to.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to go against that anyway.

 Sounds and images alike grow distant, even Ingrid’s voice as she speaks into her phone with vigour and a sense of urgency, even the irritating noise of his own cough. He’s drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his skin in front of his eyes, the shift in temperatures never letting go and biting harder every time. Pulling his knees against his chest, wrapping his arms around his lap, he’s waiting for the moment where the tempest will calm down and allow him to make a run for his life.

The tempest never soothes and, instead, Ingrid’s eyes try digging into his with a sense of desperation, the phone now gone and maybe not even calling anymore.

 “Sylvain, can you hear me?!” She asks with her hands on his shoulders, slightly shaking him in the commotion.

He nods while in the midst of a coughing fit, that phlegm escaping again.

“Thank goodness…” She whispers to herself, before she changes gears entirely. “How the hell were you still standing…?!” She muses as she puts her hand on his forehead again. “It’s risen too… You’re the biggest of fools, Sylvain, do you know that?!”

“Was… aware of that by now…” He tries laughing, but it only comes out as forced. “Keep telling me that…”

“Then apply them, once and for all! Where do you think that brings you?! What the hell is going on in your head?!”

Ingrid looks aside before her glare comes back, eyes shimmering, and the world disappears behind her. Her voice echoes in the distance, yet so near him, anguish painted all over the picture he can make out of her with his tired eyes.

“Why do you always scare me so much, you jerk!”

 His breath is stolen away, lungs locking for a solid moment before he can exhale again. The hands on his shoulders weaken.

“I’m tired of cleaning after your mess, skirt-chasing or not! Even if I tell you crystal-clear, even if I insist on having you finally behave properly, you never take anything seriously and I always have to be behind you so I don’t end up losing you in the long run”

Her finger brushes against his face, right under his mouth, and she shows him a red stain left on her skin.

“This, Sylvain. Do you see it? Do you even know how much hassle you’d avoid for yourself if, for once, you’d take things seriously? If you just listened, we wouldn’t be there!”

“W-well… It’s only my business, right…? I don’t know why you get so worked up for me… Is it because we’re friends…? Are you in love…?”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear that dying voice of yours!”

“Oh c’mon, that’s kinda mean…”

“Healthy people don’t cough up blood, you fool! Stop talking about it as if that was just the cold it was two weeks ago!”

“Still… My business, not yours, Ing;” His flirtatious tone is nowhere to be seen.

“It’s my business too because I don’t want to lose you!”

Her voice breaks, a part of his heart follows.

“… I don’t want to lose someone again,” she mutters as her gaze lowers. “Especially not like that.”

The rest of his heart crumbles under the weight of the feelings it stores endlessly.

 He musters what strength he somehow has left, brain almost entirely numbed by a fever blurring his sight and rendering his touch inaccurate, and pulls her against his chest, asking for no cue. There is a puddle of blood in the back of his throat, but he tries smiling if not just for her, and realizes in his daze just how much he’s fucked up.

“It’s not usual for you to lose your composure so much… Ing…” He whispers, the ring of classes beginning drowning in his swimming vision.

She doesn’t reply, her heart almost against his, their beats never matching.

“I’m sorry for worrying you so much, Ing…”

His consciousness is dimming as he sees dots appearing in front of his vision, but not having to retain spitting blood on her.

“Didn’t realize until now… that it mattered to someone…”

 Everything disappears before him before he knows it.

  When he eventually comes to, Sylvain is surprised he’s still actually part of the living world. It’s no better than being a corpse right now, considering his entire body stopped responding efficiently. There’s no distraction when his vision is mostly a black blur, so he has the time and peace of mind to think about how, yeah, this has been a fiasco and he can only blame himself for it. Not like he’s ever blamed anything but fate, the order of things, the world’s strange whims and himself. His business, not his, after all.

It should have only affected him, but then Ingrid burst into his secrecy, and the entire order of things got taken apart.

 His eyelids are heavier than shields and barely open at first, but they eventually allow the light to enter his sight. It hurts at first, worsening the pounding headache settling under his skull’s surface, until he gets over it and observes the change in scenery: this isn’t the corridor where he last spoke to Ingrid. In fact, aside from similar neon lights, it feels different: the smell isn’t the same, the air isn’t the same and, if he glances with how little his neck can move, he can conclude that the furniture isn’t the corridor’s.

Not that it wasn’t a dead giveaway all along, considering he’s lying in an actual bed and not against a wall, and that there are familiar emerald eyes looking in his direction.

 “I… Ing…?” His voice sounds worse than before, it’s like he’s still half-asleep.

“Sylvain,” she replies with a calm voice, her usual stern tone, and he can’t help but smile. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah…” He continues glancing around. “What’s this place…? I don’t recognize it…” He still has the urge to cough, even though it’s less violent than before. That’s a nice change of pace.

“The hospital. Don’t worry, you won’t be here for more than a day or two.”

“…makes sense.”

 The silence following this is only short-lived, as Ingrid picks the ball back up merely moments after, just enough to allow him to cough a little more.

“You’re lucky your life wasn’t directly threatened by what’s festering inside your chest. I was surprised myself how fortunate you’ve been with this.”

“I wouldn’t exactly describe being sick… as lucky, Ing…”

“At least you’re recognizing you are, now. It’s progress, I suppose.”

“How can I deny it when I’m like this?”

“You can’t, and that’s a good thing.”

 She doesn’t look as angry as she did before, but he can still tell she’s got a problem with something. Most likely him.

“Wait, you’re not in class…?”

“I’d like to officially inform you that you made the professor sick with your germs. Fortunately, he was prevented from making class by the collective efforts of Mercedes and the other professors. Which brings me to the point I wanted to discuss with you…”

Here it comes.

“Can this please serve you as a wake-up call, once and for all?”

Huh, that’s less painful than he expected it to be.

“Oh…”

 He’s too tired to play pretend and too conscious of her feelings to pretend like he doesn’t know what she’s referring to. It’s been years since he’s started taking less and less things seriously, to the point his own future is something he’s not worried about for a long time, and he’s just realized how harmful this has always been. He’s something more than his heritage, this he now knows for sure, but this wasn’t the way to go.

This has never been the way to go around with this, and Ingrid has always been right; but he’s been too deaf to hear her until now.

 “I finally see why you’ve been so insistent; or so I think…” He’s not sure of much anymore.

“To say that I had to see you cough up blood to hear you say that…” She sighs. “At least, I can hope this means I won’t always be to be behind you, right?”

“Yeah… Sorry for worrying you all the time, Ing…”

“You better be sorry!”

The small laugh she tries to contain is the cutest thing he’s heard in ages.

“Still… Thanks for always having my back. I don’t thank you nearly enough…”

He’s still weak, this much he can tell by how low and gravely his voice sounds, but he’s grateful and doesn’t want to close his eyes if it’s for her to vanish by the time he awakens.

 This, in itself, reminds him of how much Glenn’s death had an impact on Ingrid back then; and he cannot help but hate a part of himself for failing to notice that before.  

After all, if he wants to win her heart over, he has to take in account her feelings, right? It’s only normal, he has to work more on that.

 “I have to say,” she continues leading their conversation, “you’ve made an effort, recently. I see you flirting with anything that moves less than usual.”

He blinks. He’s surprised, but she’s right: he’s been less preoccupied with girls, recently, but he didn’t think it was actually noticeable. Blame it on the butterflies again. Right now, they’re rampaging throughout his abdomen.

“I just wish you’d be more careful to your actions and yourself, that’s it. I won’t be there to keep you in check, one day, you know.”

“I know… That’s why I didn’t want you to worry, but I guess I couldn’t prevent that…”

He coughs again, the iron aftertaste never letting go, but never coming back either.

“How bold of you to assume you could stop a friend from worrying about you.”

 He wishes they were more than friends, but he’s a coward and she’s too good for him. The irony: she’s the one girl he knows doesn’t hold an interest in him only for his bloodline, and yet she’ll never be more than his childhood friend because she knows him too much to accept dating him, even as a joke.

The red he sees creeping on her cheeks has to be a feverish delirium.

 “Anyway, I hope this bronchitis will make for a good lesson,” she scolds him again.

“Yeah, same,” he replies as he looks back to the ceiling. He hopes the blushing he senses on his own face is hidden by the splotches of fever he could see in the mirror this morning.

His eyelids flutter without his consent, and he sees her less and less per second, having run out of strength to keep himself awake.

“I should let you rest at last,” she eventually says as she begins getting up, which is when he notices her hand leaving his. His skin feels cold again, hair on his arm rising underneath clothes he wasn’t wearing earlier today.

“But… Will you be there, when I’ll wake up…?”

 His question, his façade slipping up and shattering to the ground in its fall, makes her stop in her stead and, instead of facing the door, she turns her head in his direction.

“I’ll try my best. I can’t always be behind you, right?”

“I get it… Have a nice day, Ing…”

“Goodnight, Sylvain,” she tells him as the door opens and closes.

It feels soothing to go back to sleep.

[thecorpulentbeagle]

P5 Shipping Round Robin: Day 10

I am going to be honest – this slot was technically for Ann x Goro, but we have had two stories with Goro in a row (technically three if you count the PolyThieves one told from his perspective), so I replaced it with Ann x Futaba so readers don’t overdose on Goro Akechi. Also, this story technically has one of the characters from the original pairing, plus we haven’t heard from Futaba in a while!

This was very fun to write, so I hope you all think it’s fun to read!

Here is the fanfiction.net link.

Please enjoy this next part of the P5 Shipping Round Robin Challenge!

P5 Shipping Round Robin Challenge:

Truth and Lies:

Ann x Futaba

-Futaba-

“Hey, Futaba!” Ann exclaimed, standing up suddenly. She had been sitting beside the younger girl, who was feverishly working at her computer. She had some work to do unrelated to the Phantom Thieves, but work to be done nonetheless.

She had gotten pretty far along. Until a certain blonde beauty had entered her world – more specifically, her room.

Apparently, Ann wanted to spend quality time with every member of the Phantom Thieves, and, as she had put it, she was saving the best for last.

Futaba had jokingly suggested that she was merely her last choice, to which Ann strongly denied. Futaba wasn’t quite sure if she believed her, but it made her feel happy regardless.

When the hacker had told Ann her plans for the day, she figured that would either scare the model off, or would cause her to drag Futaba away to do something more “fun”.

Surprisingly, Ann had nodded her acceptance, and had then proceeded to plop herself down on Futaba’s bed, declaring that she would watch the girl work her magic. Heck, maybe she would even learn a thing or two.

It had been quiet, save for the click-clacking of Futaba’s keyboard, for almost an hour. She was making decent progress, and was firmly in the zone.

When Ann had suddenly moved into Futaba’s field of vision, the hacker had jumped, which caused her to input a bit of code incorrectly.

Grumbling slightly as she fixed her error, Futaba mumbled, “Yes, Ann?”

Ann was either ignoring or not noticing the irritation in her voice. She smiled. “We should play a game!”

Futaba quickly saved her work and switched off her screen, sensing that whatever Ann had in mind was something she would not be able to get out off. Raising an eyebrow, she replied, “What kind of game?”

Ann brightened at Futaba’s willingness to go along with what she wanted. “It’s called Two Truths and a Lie. I used to play it with Shiho all the time!” Her expression faltered slightly at the mention of her best friend.

Futaba reached out and brushed her hand against the older girl’s. She knew how Ann felt – it was similar to how she felt about Kana. It was hard to have a best friend that had to suddenly leave your life due to events out of either person’s control.

Ann’s expression shifted back to what it had been. She excitedly grabbed hold of Futaba’s hand and pulled her up so that she was standing in front of the model. Standing inches from the taller, and admittedly, stunning girl made Futaba blush slightly. She cleared her throat and stepped back a little.

“Anyway. What you do is tell someone two things about yourself that are true, and one thing that’s a lie. The other person has to figure out which is a lie!”

Futaba smirked. “Interesting that you thought I’d need an explanation.”

Ann stuttered. “Oh, s-sorry. Did you already know the rules?”

“Nope!”

Ann gasped. “Why you…” Grinning, she raised her hands up to Futaba’s collar and began tickling the other girl.

Futaba couldn’t help it. She was extremely ticklish after all.

She burst out laughing, squirming around as she tried to move her body away from Ann’s hands. Pretty soon, the older girl was laughing as well.

“E-enough!” Futaba grabbed Ann’s wrists and held them down at her sides, breathing heavily. While fun, she couldn’t afford to have Ann take her breath away in more ways than one – she’d asphyxiate that way.

Ann giggled. Sliding her hands down so that Futaba was now holding onto them instead of her wrists, she led the girl over to the bed. She plopped back down, causing Futaba to fall down onto it with a huff.

“So why don’t you start, since you seem to know the rules?” Ann teased, watching with mirth as Futaba sat up and started fixing her hair, which had gone askew during the tickling and subsequent tumble onto the bed.

“Even though I just admitted I’d never played before, it sounds simple enough. So yeah!” Futaba bounced on the bed. “Let’s see…” Futaba thought. What truths should she tell? The Phantom Thieves had already seen deep within her heart, so it was hard to think of anything that the older girl didn’t already know.

Conversely, what lie would Ann believe? Many thought that Ann was a typical ditzy blonde model, but that was far from true. First of all, why did people automatically assume that blonde people (or models for that matter) were stupid? Secondly, Ann was surprisingly sharp.

Of course, she could always say that she had a crush on Ann, and if things didn’t work out, she could say that was the lie. It was tempting, but Futaba didn’t want to play around with her feelings. They were serious, and this was just a harmless little game between friends.

Eventually, Futaba nodded her head. “Okay. I got a couple for ya.” Futaba folded her hands together. “First, I prefer home-cooked meals to instant stir-fry noodles.” She waited for Ann to process this. When the other girl nodded, Futaba continued. “Second, sometimes I sneak extra spices into Akira’s curry while he’s making it.” Futaba grinned at the belly-laugh from Ann. “Finally, I don’t actually need my glasses to see. I just like to wear them for aesthetics.”

Ann nodded her head sagely. “Okay. Let me think about this for a second.” The girl tapped her fingers, her eyes wandering around the room as if it could provide her with clues.

Futaba wasn’t sure if Ann was aware, but since she had not let go of the hacker’s hands the entire time, she was currently tapping her fingers on her hand. Futaba blushed slightly at the contact.

She was genuinely curious if the model would be able to figure out which was the lie, as they all seemed somewhat plausible.

“Alright! I think I’ve got it.” Ann stopped tapping and returned to squeezing the other girl’s hand. Futaba said nothing.

“I think… the last one is a lie.”

Futaba blinked. “Are you sure? Is that your final answer?”

Ann nodded. “Yep!”

Futaba smiled. “Correct.”

“Yes!” Ann fist pumped the air, which caused the mattress to sway.

“How did you figure it out? Curious minds must know!” Futaba demanded, since she was truly wondering how Ann had reasoned it out.

“Well then, I’ll tell you.” Ann wrapped an arm around Futaba’s shoulders. Futaba assumed it was a friendly gesture, but that still didn’t prevent her face from turning the shade of Panther’s outfit.

“I knew the first was true because I’ve seen the way your eyes light up with the Boss’ or Akira’s homemade curry. You like instant food, of course, but you always look really happy when you can eat their cooking.”

Futaba smiled and nodded, but said nothing. Had Ann really been looking at her that closely to notice these things?

Ann squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “The second one was true because I can totally imagine you spiking said curry with all kinds of stuff just to mess with him.” She winked. “I mean, why would some of Akira’s curry be absolutely divine, but others would be horrible? There was some kind of mischief behind the counter if you ask me.”

Futaba giggled.

“Finally,” Ann lifted both of her hands and placed them on either side of Futaba’s glasses frames, which startled the girl. Ever so gently, Ann lifted them off of her face, folded them up, and carefully placed them on Futaba’s desk. “I know that you can’t see well without your glasses. Whenever you don’t have them on, you always squint.” Ann had said all of this in a soothing murmur, and Futaba felt mesmerized by her voice. But then, Ann exclaimed much more loudly, “I mean, I think all these years of staring at a computer monitor really screwed up your sight, Futaba!”

Futaba shook her head, the stupor that had she had been trapped in suddenly vanishing. She reached over and picked up her glasses, sliding them back into place. “I guess that all makes sense. There’s no fooling you, Ann!”

“Of course! I am the master at this game.” Ann flipped one of her pigtails back behind her shoulder in a jokingly-obnoxious manner. “Now I’ll go and see if you can detect the lie.”

Futaba grinned. “I’m all ears.”

Ann cleared her throat. “Okay. First, I dislike carbonated drinks. Second, I’ve kissed a girl.” Futaba openly spluttered at this one. Ann noticed and smiled slyly at her. “Finally, I’ve kissed Ryuji.”

“W-what?” Futaba practically fell off the bed. “Why are two of yours related to kissing?”

“Why were two of yours related to food?”

“Touché. But still… wow…”

Futaba was having a hard time believing this. So the first one was obviously true – it was the most normal option. But the latter options were outrageous, and one of them was true! Unless they were both true, and Ann had thrown them in to startle Futaba from not picking the first one. Her brain felt like it was overheating.

“Huh. I’m gonna need some time to process this one.”

Ann smiled gently. “Take all the time you need.”

Futaba thought. She was going to go with her original assumption that Ann disliked carbonated drinks. Thinking back, she could never recall the older girl drinking one.

That left the kissing options. Ann seemed like the kind of girl who could swing both ways (though in all honesty, all of the members from the Phantom Thieves seemed like they could), so the girl one was not completely off the table. But maybe Futaba just secretly hoped for that one to be real.

The last one seemed… odd. The two were close… but were they close in that way? Futaba got more of a “best friends since childhood” vibe from them rather than romance. It seemed that this was her best bet.

“I have made my decision!” Futaba announced.

“Then let’s get on with it!” Ann prodded.

“I choose… option number three!”

Ann chuckled. “I figured. But you’d be wrong.”

“What? You’ve kissed Ryuji?” Futaba’s eyes bugged out of her head.

Ann nodded. “I sure have. It was for a dare, though, not because I like him like that. I couldn’t pass up the bet though. He was gonna buy me a super deluxe crepe if he lost!”

Futaba briefly wondered what the bet was. But she found that she couldn’t care less at the moment. “So then… you’ve never kissed a girl?”

“Bingo.”

“B-but… um… have you ever wanted to?” Futaba couldn’t help herself. It seemed like the question rose up out of her body before her mouth or brain could filter it.

Ann smiled. “Yes.”

Futaba raised her eyebrows. “R-really? That’s interesting, A—”

Before she could get Ann’s name out of her mouth, she noticed that something was on hers.

Namely, Ann’s mouth.

If Futaba had blushed before, it was nothing compared to what was going on now. She suddenly pushed Ann away by her shoulders, her own heaving with deep breaths.

Ann looked at Futaba with a hurt expression. Unable to meet the younger girl’s eyes, Ann mumbled, “W-was that not okay? I thought that… ya know… maybe… you liked me like that. I-I wasn’t sure, but I went for it and now I feel really bad and now you’re not saying anything and it’s freaking me out and –”

Now it was Futaba’s chance to return the favor. Once she had gotten over the shock of her crush not only liking her back but kissing her, Futaba was able to do what she had always wanted. Placing her lips onto Ann’s, the other girl made a surprised sound, but ultimately fell silent. She kissed the other girl back, wrapping an arm around her waist to bring her closer.

The two pulled apart after a few moments, both breathing heavily and blushing furiously.

Futaba wasn’t able to say anything just yet, but she moved forward to rest her forehead on Ann’s. She looked into the other girl’s eyes, conveying just how strongly she felt.

Ann smiled, looking right back at her. “Well,” she murmured, pecking Futaba on the nose, “Looks like everything I said was true after all.”

Bam! This story practically typed itself. I wish all of them were this easy to write. Sorry RyuAnn fans for that tease – you will get your chance! See you tomorrow!

[arosnowflake]

Urrrgggghhh just venting a bit but like, i like shipping in fandom, but i don't like it when people say a pairing is 'canon' when it's not. You just got some backstory and okay they're closer than we thought but please stop saying it's now canon? Not everyone likes that ship or wants to be beaten over the head with it. It irritates me when people are like 'this is irrefutable proof of their relationship' when it's like... They could be friends? They are friends? What part of that was romance?

OH NOW THAT’S A MOTHERFUCKING MOOD

you see this especially in fandoms where the story centers around a strong platonic relationship; I’m not saying you’re not allowed to ship friends together or whatever, and genuinely liking a romantic relationship between two characters isn’t a crime, but just. please stop saying that doing x thing for your friend is impossible. I mean if the thing is clearly romance coded (like carrying someone bridal style or something) that’s one thing, it’s somewhat annoying but understandable, but then you get stuff like “you don’t get sad like that over a friend!” oh I’m sorry, tell that to the months of grief I had after my best friend ‘broke up’ with me. “you aren’t that devoted to a friend!” “friends don’t do that for each other!” your experiences aren’t universal! shut up!

not to mention that fandom is full of people who take fandom waaayyyy too fucking seriously. liking a ship is not a personality trait! it’s not! someone not liking your otp is not an attack on your person! get over yourself!

look I’m just... ship meta in general would honestly not bother me if aro people were allowed to exist in fandom spaces. ultimately, ship meta is fairly harmless, as are people saying “did you see that look? that’s not platonic”, or people screenshotting stuff of two characters standing next to each other and captioning them as “I can’t believe [ship name] is canon”. all that, isolated, is perfectly harmless behaviour, and if people are having fun with it, then what does it matter, you know. but when it’s coupled with a general lack of aro headcanons (unless the character is conveniently someone they want to shove out of fan content), and the demonization of any aro content that aro creators put out (people attacking aro headcanons for basically no reason, people attacking qpr headcanons for basically no reason, etc. etc), and a constant bombardment of amatornormative content (specifically looking at you, AO3), fandom becomes a really toxic atmosphere for aros (specifically romance-repulsed aros) very quickly.

(also just, general side note, I’d actually be very interested to see why fandom in particular has developed itself into such a romance-focused space. why are people just generally more interested in seeing a romantic relationship than they are in exploring character’s trauma, the worldbuilding, au’s, or literally any other fandom behaviour? why must everything always come circling back to romance? I know the answer is amatonormativity, but just... why is fandom, in particular, so bad?)

[solarianradiance]

Black Romance

The Black Quadrant of Troll Romance intrigues me to no end, and makes my thoughts churn like a creative slurry in a bucket, wandering what exactly its like under long term circumstances, the little intricacies of unwritten rules and expectations to be found within this sort of relationship.

How did it even first occur? What in Troll biology cause it to be a such a strong fixture in their social culture?

Perhaps these questions will be answered one day... probably in a way that makes me wish they hadn't and force me to moan like a lil bitch in disappointment.

We can only speculate for now however... which is what im going to do.

In its history, Black Romance likely started as a genuine desire to kill a rival, likely over the feelings of the same Matesprite, but unable to do so, in spite of the genuinely serious trying at mutual murder, only to find they dont mind each other so much, even if they dont like many other aspects about them~

 Even though they try to kill their rival they actually begin to make one another as strong as possible through constant conflict. Like two Knights sharpening their skills in a friendly sparing match. After all, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Given Troll society, they likely take this notion to heart.

Through this rivalry, their partner is made as strong as possible, so they may live to see each other again another day.

I think, in my opinion, a Black Romance is a relationship born of Hate and Irritation, but evolves into a genuine mutual love and respect.

It starts as Hate, but becomes Love over time.

They may start in opposite directions, but they ultimately end up in the same place.

Any actual pain inflicted upon your rival is to make them dulled and numb to that pain. Makes them ready to deal with it mentally. Their weak traits being absolved or mitigated to some extent, and their strengths expanded and reinforced.

The individuals, sharpen each others knives for their partners to use one another, so that they may also sharpen their skills, ensuring that they are both full prepared for the trials ahead.

A Black Romance usually revolves around the two partners actually trying to hurt and injure one another, both verbally and physically, but not cripple, maim or kill their opponent. Its the two trying to Dominate, but not so thoroughly as they cannot grow as individuals. To remove the blemishes in their techniques, working out the kinks in execution.

Blackroms must have times of bonding and enjoyment, a break from the conflict, to relieve stress... by ♠any♠means♠necessary♠~

This often revolves around the two Haters tending to eachothers wounds, and enjoying the typical Red Romance activities, like dinner and a movie, albeit with a side of snark, super sized. Probably poisoning their partners meal, just enough for them to get an upset stomach and vomit over it all.

Signs of affection take the forms of hand holding, kissing, and small levels of antagonisms such as harmless insults or mild scuffles. One method is manipulation to encourage romantic retaliations, such as stealing clothes, pranking their rival, or even publicly humiliating them in way that will embarrass them but wont destroy their standing or self-esteem.

Anything that gets under their skin without causing permanent harm goes and one must always be on guard and never show signs of weakness or reveal any information to their kismesis, lest they use this against their partner.

One sign of devotion in a relationship is wearing the colors of your partner. In the case of a Matesprit, its their favorite color.

In the case of a Kismesis, its their blood color, or at least a color they may hate.

All relationships are born of trust, but for a Kismesissitude, it is far more important, for they must both understand they are not trying to kill eachother while trying to wound one another. 

A good sign of trust is allowing your Kismesis to wear your clothes with minimal reservation, as they probably wont destroy it outright, but probably will at least modify it, such as dying it another color.

This trust is what is crucial for it to succeed, they have to try and hurt without killing. And due to nature of the relationship, they try to one up each other constantly.

Stabbing someone in the arm may result in them cutting off your hand in response.

This often results in the one of them killing their partner kind of unintentionally while being caught up in a whirlwind of passionate hatred~

Sometimes in bed even.

These bouts of hate filled fighting can spill over into society at large, causing damage and injury to others and their property.

This is why the Auspices were founded~

The importance of the Auspice in a Black Romance is critical, for they serve as the referees, and prevent the relationship from getting out of hand. The loss of one or both individuals can be devastating to the group, especially if they’re of great standing and use to said group. Losing your own members to themselves is embarrassing to say the least.

They at minimum, keep the two individuals focused, preventing them from getting embroiled in their bitter dark chocolate freakishness, and having them stay civil as well as decent in public.

Anyone can be an Auspice, be they a passing stranger, or a concerned friend. But many Auspices are more permanent fixtures, usually one party members current Moirail or Matesprite.

But most often, it is normally a third party that is a mutual friend, that aides in keeping things from getting out of hand. A platonic friend that can help cool the flames and calm the storms, so the ship will not sink.

But Not All Ashenroms Are Platonic~

Some Are Polyamourous Relationships Where The individuals Engage in Mutually Consenting Frivolity In Their Own Various Ways, Be They ♥Flushed♣Or♣Pitched♠ And Can Vary On The Individuals Involved, Creating A Sort Of Menagerie Of Earthly Delights, One Could Compare To A Candy Store With A Wide Variety Of Sugary Treats To Suit Every Taste~~~

Which Makes Such Relationships Quite Appealing To Most People~

However, there are times when someone is Auspicing for their own selfish desires. Attempts may be done by the Auspice to change the nature of the relationship, and pull an individual into another Quadrant.

This is why they are known to be “Meddlers”, and prolonged Ashroms are rare, especially when they dont make it to the bedroom.

When they do make it in, its normally so the two individuals can pail and the 3rd party ensures they dont kill one another and nothing more. Once completed, the relationship may continue or end.

If an Auspice doesn't know what they are doing, they may be unable to keep up and be ineffective, or even make the situation worse.

But in the case that an Auspice does succeed, and pays their cards right, everyone can have a grand old time together, creating a rare instance where more than two individuals has a well balanced Romance with variety.

Black Romance often ends in two rivals breaking apart, either they cant handle the stress or one of them dies, usually at the hands of their partner. Or one of them simply gets bored, and doesn't feel fulfilled like they once were.

A Black Romance is after all, based in enthusiastic engagement, and it is not unusual for the relationship to end in mutual separation.

But there are times when one side loses the romantic aspect, and the hate turns true and genuine, and kills their partner on purpose.

There are even instances of cruel situations where one partner is manipulating their other for dark machinations.

Machinations that are Darker than Black

Abuse does often occur, but a proper Pitched relationship has consent, subtext and subtle hints giving expressing desires, and when fulfilled, there is aftercare, wounds are dressed, and reminders that there is affection. Should a deed go too far, a boundary overstepped, a true Kismesis will in one way or another, express regret and remorse over a transgression.

Transgression may include overly controlling behavior, emotionally isolating them, direct harm with intent to cripple or kill, engaging in a relationship with your Kismesis’s actual enemies who want to kill them, destroying what is valued and cant be replaced and manipulating them for personal gains at their permanent expense, especially when they cant afford it.

A Kismesis cares for their partners feelings and well being, and a good one goes out of their way to ensure they are secure and safe, even when having fun.

An abuser does not.

But then there are the very rare instances, where Kismesissitude is so strong and so stable and healthy between partners, that they seemingly end up in the same place as a end of a Flushed romance.

A truly loving rivalry, whose only goal in it, is the joy of having it.

When it happens, its like Black Magic.

The two seem to engage in bantering and mutual antagonism, yet its clear they’re enjoying each other in the act. Vacillating between Red, Black and Pale all within moments.

Should a Black Romantic Couple reach this level, they stay together simply because they love being together.

Marriage exists within Troll society, though it is rare, especially when its outside ones blood caste.

Black Marriages are particularly rare, as the process of getting Hate Married is rather intense.

A proposal involves biting off eachothers right ring finger and swallowing it. Which is pretty hardcore if you ask me.

Which turned out to be too hardcore, which was phased out for simply biting a wound into their partners finger instead

Which was also phased out as it was a custom from a time before oral hygiene was a thing, people died due to infection.

Afterwords it became a case of merely scaring, then branding, then finally tattooing in your fiance’s sign in their blood color on your right ring finger.

A simple wedding ring is also acceptable, usually some cheap metal, like a Black iron ring.

Finally, the two tell each other a special secret about one another, usually something quite humiliating, as a means of making blackmail, so that either one wants to declare a divorce, they simply air their others dirty laundry.

[diamond-dhampir]

Snowball Fight (Arvis X Gunnthrá)

For the lovely @shauni-will-never-write . Because of her, I'm stuck in this rarepair hell and I'm not complaining. I've never written Arvis before so I just hope I'll get him right after some research... I'm on mobile, so I have no clue how to put under a read more. Just a heads up.

___

Snow had never been a top priority of Arvis. It was cold, damp and always managed to seep into your clothes. In some ways, it was as difficult as sand everywhere. He was mostly indifferent to it, though. So when Askr was given a red weather warning for snowfall, and the next morning you could hear Sharena squealing with delight at the wonderland outside, he just ignored.

Gunnthrá on the other hand... she was from Nifl. It was always cold and snowy there. She had spent her whole life in the snow. She and her sisters had played together so many times... it was those memories that kept her from pure misery these days. Knowing she can get those days back was part of her motivation.

Today, however, she realised she can still have those kinds of days. With her new family members.

"Arvis? Did you see the snow outside?" the princess smiled.

"Hm?" the redhead looked up from a book he was reading. "The snow... oh... yes, I did..."

"And what do you think?"

"... I..."

"Have you ever been in snow before?"

"It snowed where I am from... but not very often. And when it did, it wasn't there for long..." Arvis cleared his throat.

A twinkle of an idea came into Gunnthrá's ice blue eyes.

"Arvis, can you come with me for a moment?" she gave another one of her smiles.

"Of course... do you need something, dear?" Arvis's expression softened.

"I just want to show you something." Gunnthrá replied.

_

The two stepped outside into the snowy air. Arvis was wearing the appropiate wear for outside, but Gunnthrá was all too used to cold, completely unaffected by the icy blades against their cheeks.

"What do you need to show me?" Arvis glanced at his wife. She was always so beautiful in this weather...

He was met with a snowball to the face.

Gunnthrá had dashed a few feet away, and was now giggling at her mischief.

"... Gunnthrá, why are we-" the emperor shielded his face from another snowball. "Enough! I don't have time for this!" he growled in irritation. Such childish behaviour was a waste...

But then something made him turn around again.

Julia was talking to Gunnthrá. The young girl was wrapped up as well. She said something like she was taking a walk, as they never got snow like this before.

Then Julia ran a few feet from Gunnthrá, and launched a snowball at her. Gunnthrá laughed as it hit her shoulder, and threw one back at Julia, who squealed in delight.

Of course. They never got snow like this in their world.

Arvis sighed briefly. He thought over what to do when another ball of powder hit him in the back of the neck. Julia's hand flung to her mouth.

Then a peculiar thing happened.

"All right... if you're so set on me joining..." he rolled up snow in his hand, and aimed at Gunnthrá. "I will spare you both no mercy!!" he laughed and threw. Gunnthrá yiped and threw one back. Suddenly it erupted into a full-on snowball fight. For the first time in years, Arvis had proper fun, he laughed the hardest he had in a while. They were like a normal family. Except missing one person.

"Seliph! Seliph!" Julia suddenly ran inside the castle. She didn't know how her brother would feel about Arvis, but she wanted him to join.

Arvis turned all of his attention to Gunnthrá.

"How splendid. The one person who started this." a wicked grin spread across his face. Gunnthrá ran for it, being pelted as she went. She was enjoying herself, though.

Arvis was having the time of his life.

He was suddenly met by an icy wind. Gunnthrá's Blizzard blew him back a little, leaving snow among his fiery hair.

"Oh, so we're playing street rules, are we?" Arvis's grin became a smirk. He looked up at the tree Gunnthrá was under, and gave it a kick. The princess barely had time to process her confusion when a pile of snow fell on her head. She giggled and tackled her husband, and they both fell in the snow. Arvis planted a kiss on her head.

"Julia, I really don't know what you're..." Seliph blinked at the scene. Arvis was laughing like mad, with Gunnthrá in his arms.

"Maybe we can take them on, round two. Kids vs adults!" Julia clapped excitedly. Seliph couldn't help stare at her. She was normally so quiet and spacey... must have been the adrenaline. He was unsure what he should do. On one hand, it was harmless fun. On the other hand, it was Arvis.

Then Seliph thought about how it was Arvis. This Arvis... he had not met his fate yet. Seliph had not killed him in his timeline. It was only a matter of time before the emperor went back to his own timeline, and to his death. It was quite tragic, really. He was happy here with Gunnthrá. Julia pined for the day her twin could join them. She often said that her brother was kind and caring. Seliph had felt mild confusion, as the Julius in his timeline had been cruel. Perhaps he would solve these mysteries one day, and maybe with the help of this Order of Heroes.

But for now, he had to brush off the snow that had just impacted his face.

Julia had a pleading look and another snowball in her hand. Seliph sighed and smiled. "Alright, I'm in."

Gunnthrá and Arvis watched the two children enjoy themselves, sitting in the snow. Gunnthrá's hand met Arvis's. His hands were always so warm...

"Thank you, Gunnthrá. You truly are a blessing to me." Arvis smiled at the princess and kissed her.

___

Whoo... I did it. Once again, this is for Shauni. Thanks for giving me this ship, I really like it!! If only Julius could be in Heroes, he could come home and they can have a happy family in Nifl and Seliph or Sigurd could rule the empire of Grannvale... if you're reading this, thank you and I hope you enjoyed!

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Responses- The Marvel of Trelsi (Part VIII)

By BoltonEvans post here. 

Believe me, I’m in the same boat as far as my OTP goes. While there is a bit more of a variety of fanfiction to explore, the majority of it is grossly out of character (self-loathing homophobic asshole Troy, and Ryan with Sharpay’s personality who refers to Troy as “Bolton” are everywhere), and resort to using extreme traumatic scenarios, such as rape, for cheap drama.

I used to be in another fandom where the homosexual ships involved exploitation of rape as a plot device, which is quite frankly disgraceful. As for Troy being “homophobic”... Is that why he decided to make friends with the most flamboyantly gay... Oh, never mind. I truly believe so many fans were watching a different film altogether. 

Even worse, I’m the only person still actively writing for my ship, these days, with the very rare exception cropping up and taking me by surprise every couple of months, or so. It’s a very sad state of affairs.

Sad, indeed. They have far more in common: 1)- A love of the Performing Arts and corresponding commitment, 2)- Strong work ethic, 3)- Kindness, generosity and thoughtfulness, 4)- Humour. The honest viewer doesn’t need to ship them to see this. Gabriella by comparison only meets ONE of the above criteria-- being a hard worker, and that only relates to her academic pursuits. When it comes to Troy or Ryan’s hard work, she’s happy to flush that down the toilet when it doesn’t suit her. (She’s also happy to play the two against each other to get emotional revenge, which is obnoxious). 

A few more notes/additions, because I’m both obnoxious, and incorrigible:

- My Tryan bias results in my perspective of Troy seeking Sharpay out and agreeing to perform with her and save her “sinking ship” of a talent show only if she also allows the Wildcats to perform, revolving around Ryan persuading him to do so. Troy was hellbent on dropping out of the show and resuming kitchen duty as a show of solidarity with his friends. It was only because of Ryan that he ultimately changed his mind. So, even though Troy absolutely does uphold his commitments (he is a textbook people pleaser, after all), I view that instance as the one exception where Troy had to be talked into keeping a promise. Thankfully, it was by someone who was actually looking out for him, for once.

That’s a good point. Thanks for pointing this out. 

- One minor correction: Gabriella transfers to East High after the new year begins. In the American school system, this would be the start of the second semester, or halfway through the school year, and it’s questionable just when, exactly, she and Troy began officially dating after the events of the first film. In all likeliness, she and Troy dated for about half of their junior year, broke up several weeks into summer vacation, got back together (after Troy was willing to throw an opportunity for a scholarship out the window because of Gabriella’s reaction to him prioritizing his future over giving her a summer worthy of remembering), managed to stay together for most of senior year, then broke up, again, when Gabriella unceremoniously and callously dumped Troy over the phone a week before the year was out.

Correction noted, thanks. 

“When Troy tries to show her a golf course in HSM II, she tells him “I don’t play golf”, which is harmless enough. But given that she should have known by then that her boyfriend was on the school’s Golf Team, it would have reflected better on their relationship had Gabriella taken an interest in his golfing, whether she liked it or not. Particularly since Gabriella was later bitter that Troy didn’t ask HER opinion on the much-derided “Italian golf shoes”. If she doesn’t play golf, why does she care?"

This is a brilliant point, even though I believe that Gabriella telling Troy that she doesn’t play golf when he was obviously setting up a date (since he’s the sole half of the relationship tasked with planning every single date they go on), was rude. I’m assuming that Gabriella, contrary to what sense and logic would dictate, doesn’t take any real interest in Troy’s golfing because it was nothing more than a plot point for the sake of the narrative in the second movie, and never comes up, again, afterward. Her general apathy toward him is also a factor, though, of course.

I also want to add that, as far as their lack of a “common thread” goes;

-Gabriella seems unable to commiserate with Troy’s financial woes, and, indeed, never expresses a single concern about how she’s going to afford her own college tuition- another disparity.  

Oh, this is a VERY good point. Thanks for noting this one. Contrary to what popular romances like to claim, financial disparities can often harm a relationship, with the lesser fortunate partner feeling inadequate (particularly if they are a man) and yet steadfastly refusing any financial assistance. In Troy’s case, he never envies Gabriella’s financial position or asks for anything from her (although she bums freebies off him ALL the time), and expects to resolve all his financial issues himself through hard work and personal responsibility. This is one of the things I really like about him. However, his flaw of worrying so much also comes to light, which is where, as you say, Gabriella comforting him at the very least would have helped somewhat. Of course, what she ACTUALLY says is that they should “focus on right now”-- in other words, herself. 

Whenever Gabriella pulls attention away from his relatable issues and back to her own First World Problems, I tend to think this would have the psychological effect of making Troy feel as though he were complaining too much, if that makes sense? Because he always invests SO much in alleviating Gabriella’s worries whilst sidelining his own. So he would be internalizing a LOT of anxiety, which is extremely unhealthy. In conjunction with the fact that Gabriella makes him feel and look like a toddler in their relationship, his financial woes would make him feel even more inadequate for her as a partner. When his truck breaks down whilst he takes her home, he looks embarrassed, even though the reason is perfectly normal: he needs a new fuel pump. But it’s almost as though he anticipates her mockery, which makes me think that she regularly mocks him when things go wrong-- even if those things went wrong due to circumstances beyond his control. And let’s not forget the fact that he feels so obliged to impress Gabriella by spending his own limited resources on her, even though she can clearly afford to not only provide for herself, but also do nice things for him. What was stopping Gabriella from buying herself a pizza and inviting Troy round for once? Why couldn’t she pay for dinner and a movie sometimes? Why couldn’t she use her mother’s car or help buy her own, since she clearly has the money? Why, as you have already said, could she not help Troy out with his truck woes? (As I’ve said, I’m almost POSITIVE that she would have gotten irritated with him on the ride back from California, because his truck is unreliable. She has no concern for anything that troubles him. I bet she didn’t help pay for petrol, either). He eventually spends/borrows money to attend Berkeley for reasons beyond my humble comprehension. 

It’s very unhealthy and Gabriella’s lack of sympathy makes it even worse. 

-Gabriella’s bedroom decor, behavior, and wardrobe choices suggest a childlike innocence to her personality, and she talks about wanting things to be "like Kindergarten”, but, as you mentioned, she pokes fun at Troy for holding onto boyhood playthings. Watch her face when Troy takes Robo-Rob from her, worrying that she’ll break the toy robot.

That doesn’t strike me as the face of a girl who finds her boyfriend’s dorkiness and sentimentality for an aspect of his childhood endearing. That’s the face you pull when a person says or does something crazy and you’re trying to wrap your head around it.

You seem to have all the right gifs! Christ. There’s rarely ever any genuine affection in her eyes when she’s around Troy, as I will discuss later. Maybe in HSM I with the rooftop scene, we saw some genuine affection as she was opening up to Troy. That vanished not long later after the webcam stunt, in which her expression was NOT hurt/disappointed, but cold and almost hostile. (Maybe she didn’t want to appear weak or hurt by his words, given that she DID shed tears earlier). And yes, the hypocrisy is staggering in the way she treats Troy’s childhood interests. 

-Troy knows his future is coming at him full steam ahead, and even though he has no idea what he wants to do, after high school, and is “being pulled in a hundred different directions”, he acknowledges, “We’re going to graduate. That’s going to happen. Nothing is going to slow down”… while Gabriella laments, right in front of him, life not grinding to a standstill, just for her, so she never has to leave East High. This suggests not just a disparity in priorities, but in maturity levels, as well; something that would have caused an eventual rift between a real life couple that nothing could have patched up.

Absolutely. 

Imagine, years down the road- if they managed to stay together- Troy fretting over steadily accumulating bills and taxes while Gabriella rolls her eyes and tells him to just push for a promotion at work. Then, imagine Gabriella finding out that the electric bill hasn’t been paid and their electricity is about to be shut off. Do you think she’d take a stressed out Troy aside and promise to find a way to get them out of this rut, or angrily confront him and demand to know why the bill hasn’t been paid and if he wants them out on the street?

Shaking with laughter! :D Please God, let it not get this far! 

Imagine how Gabriella would respond if Troy sustained an injury, in college, that ruined his shot at a career in professional basketball, or if he got laid off from his job. Do you really think she’d stay by his side and try to work things out? Or, do you think Troy would come home to find the engagement ring he put his entire salary toward, sitting on the kitchen table beside a note from Gabriella explaining that she “can’t do this, anymore”?

That dialogue... :D That is JUST what Gabriella would say. I’m laughing because of the sheer irony. We are told that this couple represent “Relationship Goals”... I just can’t! *wipes eyes*

Based on everything I’ve seen in canon, I heavily lean toward the latter.

The Wail Fest in HSM II epitomises Gabriella’s philosophy in a nutshell: “I gotta do what’s best for ME.” She really knows how to play the scorned lover in every one of her Wail Fests. What’s even more insulting in this song is when she sings, “You’ll be okay!” This is AFTER she: 1)- quit the job he secured on her behalf, 2)- mocked and derided him for his promotions, 3)- flirted with Ryan to manipulate his emotions, 4)- dumped him, 5)- and eventually rejected his necklace. She has some audacity! Every time she is about to drop kick him, she constantly makes the presumption that he will understand her behaviour: (HSM I)- “You’ve got your team, and I’ve got mine. It’s WHERE WE BELONG.”, (HSM II)- “I just don’t belong here, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND”, (HSM III)- “I can’t be a little adult right now, Troy. I’m hoping you’ll understand that.” It makes me sputter with rage. Meanwhile, when it comes to HER turn to show some understanding in the following situations: (HSM I)- When Troy is clearly being pressured to avoid the Musicals, (HSM II)- When Troy is under pressure from Sharpay’s harassment and his fast rise to fame, (HSM III)- When Troy is worried about his future--- hey, what do you know? Her “understanding” vanishes. It’s like she never heard of the word. 

*angry sigh*

I’ll discuss more of this in later posts. If you don’t mind, I’ll add some things you’ve said here. (Giving credit, obviously). 

Thanks for the responses! 

[jackieneedsmoresleep]

Voltron Fluff Week Day 7: Day at the Beach

Prompt April 16th: Beach Day Read it on AO3 here: http: //archiveofourown.org/works/10670409 This is two days late again. Sorry. I tried. And these were meant to be fluffier but oops. Atleast they are happy. @voltronprompts Pidge smiled as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. With every deep breath, she could smell the salt of the ocean. The waves moving to meet the sand was relaxing. Being at a beach felt so nice and stress-free and...normal. When she opened her eyes, she could see her friends exploring their new surroundings. Lance was standing in the middle of the beach, practically crying. This place could never be as comforting as Earth, but when you are terribly homesick, it sure does come close. Pidge remembered trips she took to the beach with her family back home. She could almost see her mother setting up her beach chair and umbrella. She imagined her father and Matt trying to put up a volleyball net and her dog being startled by the ocean with every wave. Although she always had fun at the beach, they weren't her favourite trips. She would always come home with sand in her long hair, a wet bathing suit and towel, and sunburns all along her face, arms and back. Once, she went home sporting a big bruise on her face from Matt hitting her with the volleyball at close range. Still, as she stood in front of the water, the feelings that were present were happy. She would feel happy if she were on Earth at the beach, even it it meant she crumpled the pages of her new book or if she lost one of her sandals. Being on this foreign planet that seemed similar to home, it...It would be enough. For now. For now, she could hope that one day she would see her family playing by the beach again. For now, she could forget about saving the entire universe and simply spend time with her teammates. Pidge ran into the water, passing Keith, who stood waist deep looking unsure. Lance was already far out from the shore and was swimming like he belonged in the water. Pidge remembered the stories Lance told her about when he was a swimmer as a child. When Lance had finally calmed down, he had swum back to Keith, to teach him how to swim. Lance was determined to teach his boyfriend, and ingored Keith's protests and the comments that came with the lesson. Soon, Pidge was farther out in the ocean than she had ever been on Earth. This planet had no markers to forbide swimmers from swimming to far. But she was fine and dived under the water often to see what was hidden from sight when at the surface. Holding her breath for so long reminded her of when she and Matt had been enrolled in swimming lessons. Matt had quit the lessons after a year and she soon followed her brother's lead. She and Matt always worried the lifeguards at the public pool by trying to compete which each other over who could stay underwater the longest. Those competitions didn't compare to Lance and Keith's challenges. Pidge swam back to a spot where she could almost touch the bottom to watch her friends. Allura and Coran were eating what might have been the equivalent to ice cream while Shiro sat on a dock, letting his feet hang over the edge. Hunk wadded through the shallow water looking calm. When Pidge went back underwater, she saw many shining rocks and shells resting on the bottom. The colours were vibrant and happy. She could remember being 7 years old, and collecting buckets of shells with her mother. Pidge broke the surface of the water to take another deep breath so she could reach for the glittering stones near her feet. After collecting about 6 stones, she was having trouble holding on to them. Despite this, she reached for one more, one that looked almost clear, when suddenly, something touched her foot. She dropped all the stones as she squeaked and shot up out of the water. In the back of her mind, she knew it was silly of her to react like that over her foot brushing the squishy and spongey blobs that this ocean had instead of seaweed. But, she was distracted by her task, and was extremely ticklish on her feet. She came up out of the water coughing, as she had accidently swallowed a mouthful of water when she had let out the breath she was holding. After a few seconds of coughing, she was laughing at her reaction.If Matt had been there, he would have teased her for being so shocked, even though they both knew Matt would have done the exact same thing. The laughter didn't last long though. She could see everyone looking at her a little confused, and slightly concerned. Everyone but Lance, who had begun to swim towards her looking rather serious. "Pidgey, are you ok?" He asked. "Yeah, Lance, I'm fine. Just touched seaweed...or whatever this stuff is." She answered, giving the spongey blob a kick, unbothered now that she knew it was there. "Pidgey, I thought you could swim!" "I can! I'm swimming as we speak! My feet don't quite touch the bottom here!" She exclaimed. Lance was being too protective, and she had to tell him so. "Still, as the team V lifeguard, I would like you to stay at the spot where you can stand." Lance put his hands on his hips, and spoke in a tone that meant he was being serious. "Are you insane? That's ridiculous Lance!" "You're right. It might be best if you stay on the beach." "What?" Pidge shrieked. She pouted at Lance, but she gave in. She wouldn't win this, not when Lance went into big brother mode. So much for telling him off. She briskly made her way back to the beach, but not before stopping by Keith. "Keith? Lance is being dumb so can you do me a favour please?" "What is it?" "Can you at some point 'accidently' hit him in the nuts? You are learning to swim, you have an excuse." Keith looked like he wanted to object at first. He cringed at anyone being hit there. But, he seemed to think it over. This was his boyfriend and it would definitely backfire on him, but... "Maybe. I don't know. Lance can be an idiot and a jerk sometimes but ouch." Pidge nodded and starting walking back to shore. She could hear Lance calling to her. "I love you Pidgey." "Uh huh." She yelled, sarcastically. When she reached the sand, she just turned just in time to see Lance critique Keith's attempts at swimming. The kick came right after. Shiro came to visit her while she sat on the warm sand. "You got kicked out of the water?" He asked as he sat down next to her. "Yupp." She said. "Lance is just being dumb." Shiro laughed softly. Together they watched their team. Hunk was hanging around Coran, asking questions about what Altea was like. Allura was smiling fondly, touched that someone wanted to hear about her home planet. Their attention was drawn back to the water when Keith was yelling at Lance. They had swum further out and Keith was struggling to keep his head above the water. "Trust me, I got you! You're fine!" "Woah, what the hell Lance! So Keith gets to stay in the water when he is practically drowning, but I get one mouthful of water and suddenly I'm forbidden from swimming?" Pidge stood up and shouted. "Yes! I mean, Keith isn't drowning! He's just not trusting himself and thrashing widly. He's getting there! See? He's calmer already!" Pidge groaned and sat back down. Shiro patted her gently on the back. Pidge sighed and decided to draw in the sand around her. She started drawing all the lions and voltron. To her left, she could see Shiro watching her and joining on her project. He drew the castle of lions and soon enough they were both drawing as many constellations as the could. It wasn't long before all the team members made their way to Shiro and Pidge to get in on the giant art project. Soon, a large portion of the almost empty beach was taken up by lines in the sand showing images of Zarkon and the Galra war ships being defeated by Voltron. The group had been noticed by the locals, and a few stood back to watch the paladins draw. Pidge was about to finish drawing the entire team and her father and brother when a young alien decided to ruin everyone's hard work. The kid laughed with his friends before running and sliding straight through everyone to destroy the image. The locals that surrounded them boo'ed the kid and sighed. Team Voltron was frozen in shock, and looked at Pidge who glared at the alien as he walked away, proud of the stunt he pulled. Pidge rolled her eyes. Of course every beach has that person. Even in space. When the alien returned to his spot down the beach and decided to lie on his stomach as if to get a tan, Pidge stood and happily asked Allura about that ice cream stuff she had earlier. Allura blinked, surprised by Pidge's reaction. The other paladins seemed more upset than she was. Hunk look bummed while Shiro looked at Pidge with a concerned expression. Keith and Lance looked like they kinda wanted to punch the asshole that did that. Still, Allura nodded and the team was walking to get some snacks. As everyone ate, the jerk who ruined the art they made was forgotten by everyone except Pidge. As the group laughed and talked on, Pidge kept her eye on the alien who was lying in the sun. "Pidge?" She looked up a Hunk, who held a hand out to help her up. "It's about time we go back to the ship. Come on." She smiled and grabbed his hand. "Guys, before we leave, can I just do something real quick?" She didn't really wait for their answers before running down the beach towards the asshole alien guy. The team followed but stopped when she looked at the stranger to make sure he was asleep. No one spoke as Pidge carefully covered the guy in sand, making sure that he was covered completely from the neck down. The job went a lot faster when Shiro, Hunk, Lance and Keith all joined in. On the way back to the castle, Allura spoke up. "Pidge, why did you cover him in sand?" "Well, I figured that punching the guy for ruining all our hard work and our day off might go against the paladin code, so I chose a harmless alternative. Harmless, but irritating. That guy will be finding sand everywhere for a while." Pidge smirked. Getting her petty revenge felt good.

[athyrabunlord]

Daydream [III]. Yohane

Reminder: This is based off of Daydream Warrior and this fanart I did Warning: Profanity, violence and sex. Ships: You>Chika>Kanan>Riko>?; with mentions of YouMari & KanaMari, and implied DiaYoshi & Maruby Words: 1,998

[I. Mari] [II. Chika] [III. Yohane] [IV. Kanan] [V. Dia] [VI. Hanamaru & Ruby] [VII. You] [VIII. Riko] [IX. ???]

III. Yohane

“Any hint of it has disappeared; my breath Rough and intense, the clues we follow”

You let out a ragged sigh and cracked her neck for that satisfying pop before surveying the chaos around her. She took a defiant step forward, smirking at the muffled crunch of shattered mirror shards beneath her shoes. Carelessly, she tossed the broken leg of a chair over the upturned sofa, allowing it to join the rest of its demolished brethren.

Hmm, was there anything else she hadn’t destroyed at this pathetic place?

Cold blue eyes swept the dilapidated warehouse but found only pieces of furniture that she had ripped apart. This was a hideout of a small gang she had defeated recently and, as most of the members were still hospitalized, she’s been coming and going as she pleased. The remnants of the thugs, after a few more encounters, finally learned to stay the fuck out of her way unless they wanted to be her living punchbags.

Which did happen once or twice.

You cracked her knuckles in mild disappointment. It just wasn’t as entertaining if she couldn’t sink her fists into flesh and bone. She’d prefer cuts and bruises over wooden splinters stuck in her hands. True annoyance, those prickly things. She’s already decorated the wall with fist-sized holes when she inadvertently, as well as deliberately, punched through those thin, wooden planks.

Her phone, purposefully placed at a corner so she wouldn’t smash it by accident, vibrated yet again. Whether it was Mari or Chika she cared not. All she knew was that she cannot face either of them yet, not when she was still in this state.

Or else she would do something she would regret.

Her fists itched again, as if complaining about the lack of thrill from her little destruction spree. It wasn’t enough. She felt nothing. She needed something, a proper outlet for that mess of emotions churning in her heart.

The phone buzzed once more. Perhaps she should go find Mari and fuck her senseless, or vice versa, whichever fit their mood. The older girl had no qualms about rough play, You knew that very well.

Meanwhile, Chika must be having fun with Kanan. Just a friends’ outing, nothing more, and You had vowed to be supportive since the day they went shopping.

So why, why did she feel worse than ever? Whatever clarity she had of the world around her disappeared. All that was left was the desire to hurt.

Kind of like when she first met Mari.

A movement at the corner of her eyes snapped her out of her daze. Instinctively, she moved towards the shadow and swung her fist. Her punch punctured the flimsy plank beside the newcomer’s head, and prevented the latter from escaping.

In spite of her vicious welcome, the dark-haired girl did not even flinch and that earned You’s respect. “You’re sulking here again, oh Lost One.”

You rolled her eyes and grunted as she pulled her hand out of the wooden board. She grimaced at the splinters that were stuck to her skin like porcupine quills, resigning herself to a tedious and frustrating period of picking them out later. The shorter girl merely tilted her head and spoke again in her distinctive, husky voice. “What is it that you look for?”

“What does it matter to you?” You snarled rather savagely, hoping her tone was enough to deter the other girl from asking more. “What are you doing here anyway, Yohane-chan?”

Yohane, if that was even her real name, shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know, but whenever I do find you, you always look like crap, no offense.”

“Don’t give me that no offense bullshit,” You paused and curled her other hand menacingly. “And I am offended. Any last words?”

“Ku ku ku, are you sure you’re ready for Yohane-sama’s breathtaking eulogy?”

Deadpanning, You was very aware of the fight draining out of her body. Exasperation. Complete and utter exasperation. She really didn’t know how to handle this eccentric girl.

Always, whenever she was in this destructive mindset, Yohane would show up and weird her out so that she no longer felt the need to break things. Well, there was that exception, the day she met Mari, but otherwise Yohane never failed to find her.

How did they become sort-of friends again? And she hasn’t seen Yohane for a while actually, not since…

Indeed, how long has it been?

Shaking her head, You began to work on her mutilated hand and sighed again when she noticed Yohane’s intrigued stare. “What? Never seen something like this before?”

“Who do you think I am? I’ve definitely seen stupid many times.”

“Why you little-” You exhaled deeply and shook her head again. Odd, a comment like that would’ve sent any other person into the hospital yet, when coming from Yohane, she only felt exasperation.

And a teensy bit of her agreed with the younger girl that, yes, what she did was stupid.

They didn’t exchange another line while You robotically bandaged her bleeding hand. Somewhat satisfied with her patch work, she looked up to find Yohane’s scornful frown. “What?”

“You’re going to break one of these days, y’know.”

“How observant,” You found herself smiling. “Maybe that’s my goal all along?”

“A stupid goal, that’s what it is. Have you always been that dumb, Watanabe You?”

“What if I am?” You growled, miffed about being lectured by a junior. “Seriously, why are you here?”

“Well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on Bakayou,” Yohane drawled condescendingly, and took a careful step back when You approached her with a dangerous scowl. “Calm down, little demon, you don’t want to be like her.”

Rage consumed her fleetingly and she almost reached for the younger girl’s neck. That surge of anger vanished as sudden as it came, and only left behind a phantom itch she had no access to. Irritated, she scratched her hair and retrieved her buzzing phone, stuffing it in her pocket without sparing it a glance.

“Aren’t you going to check it?”

“I don’t feel like it,” You muttered and stormed out of the warehouse, deeming it useless to stay any longer.

To her bemusement, Yohane followed silently as if she were a gliding ghost. She’d better not comment on it or else the self-proclaimed fallen angel would consider that a praise. She walked down the street, swerved into an alleyway, out onto the sidewalk, crossed an intersection and even jogged down a trail through the local park.

There was an inexplicably disquieting sensation as soon as she stepped into the area, and Yohane was still walking a careful distance behind her.

Groaning, You halted and whirled around. “Don’t you have better things to do? How long are you gonna follow me?”

“Until you open your eyes, duh,” Yohane said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ha? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, it’s You-san.”

Blinking, she turned to face the speaker and vaguely recognized her and her companion as Yohane’s friends. However, the two girls both wore sombre expressions as opposed to the friendly smiles as she remembered.

Hanamaru, the petite brunette, glanced at her up and down, her gaze lingering at her bandaged hand. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And why is that? Why can’t I be here?” You thought she must have imagined the flicker of animosity in Hanamaru’s unreadable eyes.

“No reason. I’ve just never seen you around here, that’s all.” Hanamaru said flatly without her characteristic dialect. The pigtailed redhead, Ruby, nodded mutely and scooted a little closer to her friend.

The two girls appeared so harmless that You felt rather silly for being wary of them. She glanced at the silent Yohane and shrugged. “I didn’t even know I would end up at this park. I was trying to shake off your friend. Now that you’re here, go take her back.”

She shooed the black-haired girl towards them, and was mildly puzzled by the lack of retort when the latter obediently did as she were told. Hanamaru was still staring at You though, and her seemingly all-seeing eyes were quite unsettling.

“You’re here to see Riko-san, aren’t you?”

Surprised by the brunette’s words, You could only look between the three juniors. “Why would I-?”

“Kanan-chan was with her,” the younger girl added, “We saw them over there.”

Dread and anger slowly filled her mind. Wasn’t that accursed person supposed to be spending time with Chika? Sure, Chika knew about Kanan and Riko, but that didn’t mean she should endure being together with those two. You knew fully well how such torture was like.

Ruby tugged at Hanamaru’s sleeve, prompting the latter to sigh and pat her hand in a comforting manner. “Yes, Kanan-chan was here but she left already, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You’s shoulders drooped in slight relief. Good, Chika wasn’t stood up. Fury quickly flooded her senses again though, as she pondered about Kanan’s actions. Mari and Riko and even Chika were all being played, weren’t they? And Hanamaru and Ruby, who probably didn’t know any better, were being involved somehow.

“I should really tell one of them about Mari-chan,” You whispered darkly and tried to regulate her breathing. “Heh, if Riko-chan knows about what they’ve been up to… well, that should finally wake Kanan the fuck up. She won’t get away with this.”

Just how many people were entangled in Kanan’s network of convoluted relationships? And to think, she claimed she loved Riko too…

“No, You-san,” Hanamaru’s voice was as clear as it was cold. “You’re the one who needs to wake up.”

Before You could snap a reply, she saw Yohane sadly shaking her head and pointing at her pocket. Her phone was vibrating again. All that negative emotion drained from her tense muscles and she decided to let it go.

“Perhaps,” she told the three girls curtly. “But I’m the one who gets to decide that.”

Without waiting for a response, she left the park in a hurry. Yohane didn’t follow her this time and, already, the calming effect of being in that peculiar girl’s presence was disappearing. It was only after she was several blocks away that she took out her phone from her pocket.

Ah, there were several texts from both Mari and Chika, as well as a missed call from the latter. You skimmed through the messages, which were more or less what she expected from those two. Mari wanted to meet up again, while Chika was saying how Kanan liked the music box and wanted to thank You too.

How nauseating.

Still, she was rather curious about the missed call, since Chika usually never called her. She tried returning the call but reached the voicemail.

Disgruntled, she re-dialed the number and couldn’t reach Chika this way either.

Again and again, she tried calling but Chika didn’t pick up her phone.

Worried now, You paced around the block as she went through a list of where her friend could be and wondered if she should just drop by her place. Chika could be home already and napping. You checked the time and nodded to herself. Sometimes Chika even slept the whole afternoon and only woke up in time for dinner.

But the whole situation still felt off. That eerie sensation since stepping foot into the park hasn’t faded.

After the umpteenth try, her call finally connected.

“Chika-chan? Geez, did you fall asleep or something? I tried calling you so many ti-”

You’s blood chilled upon hearing that wretched voice.

“Ah. Hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing, answering Chika-chan’s phone… where is she, what have you done to her?”

“What have I done to her…?” Kanan spoke slowly and emotionlessly. “Well, that’s exactly it.”

“Wha-?!”

“She can’t exactly answer you right now,” Kanan’s voice was so quiet as if she was far away from the speaker. You frantically pressed her ear against her phone, straining to listen for any clue of their whereabouts.

Was that the tick-tock from Chika’s clock? What was that other sound?

Then You heard it.

Chika’s shaky gasps, followed by a hitched cry.

[operationrainfall]

Title Vitamin Connection Developer WayForward Technologies Publisher WayForward Release Date February 20th, 2020 Genre Experimental, Multiplayer Platform Nintendo Switch Age Rating E for Everyone – Comic Mischief, Mild Cartoon Violence Official Website

In a weird way, I’m kind of glad I only recently found the time to play through Vitamin Connection. Because what better time to play a game all about fighting infectious diseases than during a worldwide pandemic? Dark humor aside, Vitamin Connection is a very hard to explain game. It’s incredibly unique and experimental. I recognized plot elements that reminded me of Powerpuff Girls or Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi, mini games that would have fit right into WarioWare, and controls that reminded me somehow of Yoshi’s Island. That’s a diverse mix right off the bat, and I applaud WayForward for their ambition. The question then was did this heady mixture of disparate elements come together in a cohesive elixir? Or did it erupt in an alchemical misfire?

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The entire plot of Vitamin Connection revolves around the Sable family. They’re an idyllic bunch – scientist father, bad-ass housewife mother, energetic young boy, psychotic baby and lovable dog. Something has caused bacteria to infest the entire family, and one by one, they come down with mysterious symptoms. Before you discount this as happenstance, I can tell you there’s actually something sinister afoot. I didn’t realize that until late in the game, but suffice to say the experience is as much about healing the family as it is discovering the source of their infection. You do so as the heroes of the game – Vita-Boy and Mina-Girl. They pilot the minuscule Capsule Ship, which enters bodies, finds bacteria and blasts them to smithereens. Each of the game’s levels has you wandering through veins and sailing towards major organs. Once you find a source of infection, your job is to beat them in a mini game. These can involve dancing, grabbing items, obstacle courses and much more. Oh and did I mention all of the viruses can talk (which is voice acted) and they love to trash talk you? Yea, this is a strange experience, but not without its charms.

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When I compared Vitamin Connection to Yoshi’s Island, it was mostly due to the very unique controls found in both games. You can play this game either single player or with a friend. I have a feeling the latter is the way it was meant to be played, but in the spirit of self isolation, I played this solo. In single player, you control all the aspects of the gameplay, whereas you split duties when playing with a friend. Or so I understand, I didn’t actually try multiplayer. In any case, there’s a lot of really cool features to the gameplay. As you wander through bodies, you can rotate your Capsule Ship with the right and left triggers, clockwise or counter clockwise. This is important, since touching any structure harms your ship, and if you take too much damage, you’ll die and have to restart from your last save. You use the joystick to control your beam, which can be shot in any direction you aim, making it very versatile. To make up for that, you have a limited charge to use it with. If you use the beam too long, the power of it is vastly diminished until it has a chance to reboot. You also later get a claw module that can grab and move things. It’s nifty in theory, but in execution it was very different. Mostly cause it was mapped to the same joystick used for firing your beam. So it’s very easy to accidentally arm the claw when you’re trying to blast, or vice versa. And since the claw’s controls are very, very finicky, I grew to dislike its inclusion in short order. You can also speed up how fast the level speeds past you by holding any two buttons on the right Joy-Con, which is handy. Especially since you otherwise can only maneuver your ship around with the left Joy-Con.

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In case it’s not already evident, the controls in Vitamin Connection take some getting used to. And even then, they can be a handful. As you navigate about, you’ll come across colored blue and red cords that block your path. You have to rotate your ship around so the proper colored edge is facing the cord, and then by ramming them at the proper angle, you’ll cut your way through. This was fun at first, but the game starts to go crazy with how many cords you come across. It’s also exacerbated by the tunnels you drift through often being very narrow, meaning that if you’re facing the wrong direction, you’ll sometimes have to rotate through the stage, harming yourself, just to be properly oriented. It wouldn’t be an issue if the game previewed that a cord was coming up, but it doesn’t. It’s also nerve wracking since if you get too far behind the stage as it scrolls, you’ll constantly take damage every few seconds. This didn’t happen often, mind you, but when it did I got very frustrated. And keep in mind that you’re not just wandering through harmless areas. There’s lots of bacterial enemies, and they love to get in your way, blast you from a distance or otherwise harass you.

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I mentioned mini games earlier, and there’s plenty of them in Vitamin Connection. One of the most iconic ones has you bust a move in dance battles against bacteria. That’s really cool in theory, but actually doing it can be very tough. Reason being, when playing in single player, you have to watch prompts for dance moves as they scroll on the periphery of both sides of the screen simultaneously. I started to feel like a chameleon playing this game, with my eyes trying to focus on two things at once. I did sort of get the hang of it, but it’s just an example of how mechanics in the game aren’t always well-implemented. The worst example was actually a mini game that involves extending a mitt to grab a certain amount of items. The first few times you encounter this, you’ll have to navigate around moving bacteria, since touching them hurts you. The last iteration of the game has bacteria that don’t move. I was totally flummoxed, until I figured out that you’re supposed to extend your mitt upward inch by inch, with minute flickers of your joystick, while simultaneously maneuvering your ship around, and then do the same thing in reverse to bring the items towards you safely. Suffice to say, this mini game was so irritating I nearly gave up on reviewing Vitamin Connection. Thankfully, I found some deep reserve of patience and pushed through. Maybe it’s not so bad with a friend, but if not, then something needs to be done to streamline it for solo gamers.

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I don’t mean to make it sound like everything in Vitamin Connection was a slog, cause it wasn’t. Oftentimes this is a very charming and funny game. Even though your heroes Vita-Boy and Mina-Girl are totally unvoiced, the other characters are bursting at the seams with personality. The game almost plays out like an old Saturday morning cartoon, full of humor and silliness. I especially liked the design of the various bacteria, such as giant cyclops bats, happy amoebas, candy colored rhinos and more. This is only boosted by the tremendous voice acting, which even minor characters like bacteria get. Visually, it’s a really attractive experience as well. Though it mostly plays off bright, crayola colored areas, the use of bold colors and cartoon style really makes it stand out. Musically the game is even better, and features tracks that would fit in perfectly in JPOP or KPOP, full of funky beats and mellifluous singing. Honestly, if I were just scoring the game on aesthetic or even creativity, it would probably have gotten a perfect score.

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Although I estimate I got through the main game in about 6 hours, there’s actually pretty decent replay value here. Each mini game you play is unlocked for free play later on. Additionally, by collecting all 5 hidden Ion Stars in a stage, you’ll unlock an accompanying bonus stage. These are fun and short affairs that play more like a SHMUP than the rest of the experience. Also, you unlock New Game Plus after you beat the final stage, which apparently lets you play as a different character. I say apparently since I haven’t tried it myself yet. Either way, I always appreciate reasons to come back to a game, and find it laudable Vitamin Connection is trying to put its best foot forward. Having said that, I probably would have preferred a longer main adventure with more story and hijinks to enjoy, since there’s only 6 main levels.

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Before I close things out, I need to touch upon some areas that really hurt the overall experience. Earlier I mentioned cutting cords in stages, and how it can get tricky when you’re navigating tight tunnels. This was problematic in one long stretch that leads to a stage’s last Ion Star, and I simply couldn’t manage it. I wish the game offered the ability to switch the color orientation of your ship, instead of just rotating it around and around. Another area of contention is with the save system. It autosaves whenever you are at a junction or after beating a mini game. My issue is that one time I was playing a mini game, about to win, when Vitamin Connection had an error that forced me back to the Home Screen. When I booted it up again, I wasn’t placed right at the start of the mini game, but instead at the tunnel branch which led to it. I also can’t express enough how much I wish the claw controls were separate from the laser controls. I had so many times where not only did I have trouble using the right tool at the right time, but even had tons of times where the claw was ready, I tried to grab something, and instead the claw retracted back into my ship. There’s actually a final boss in the game, in a fight that plays a lot like a battle in Mischief Makers. Problem was, it forces you to use the claw to fight back, which made things far more difficult. Oh and the Love Test game that plays after you beat stages really should have clarified that you don’t actually play it, but instead that it rates you on your overall performance. And lastly, while this is a minor quibble, it seemed odd to me that in a game so full of personality, the main characters are totally unvoiced, and don’t even get dialogue.

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Ultimately, I feel there were tons of cool ideas on display here and tons of charm, but that it wasn’t fully realized. Vitamin Connection is still a fun experience, and I appreciate the creativity. I just feel that perhaps some features required more time in the oven, so to speak. Honestly though, for only $19.99, it’s hard to take too much fault with the experience. I’d say if you want to support a cool indie company, you should give it a go. Just be ready for a steeper challenge than you might expect.

[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”3″]

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REVIEW: Vitamin Connection Title Vitamin Connection