#I say this with love. the builds ARE incomprehensible sometimes but dude how. how | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libraford · 4 years ago

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We interrupt the feral celebration of ousting an oligarch to bring you a story about Yeehaw and his Branch of Mystery.

It has been a while since we last had some co-worker drama, but man- has it been a weird summer. I mean... we all had a weird summer in 2020, but I don't think I was really expecting this particular... flavor of weird?

This is a story about Yeehaw, but it starts off with a story about Aggie.

Aggie was someone we were excited to hire and part of our excitement was that it's rare to find someone with prior floral experience and we'd concluded at this point that it does no one any good to be picky about new hires in the middle of a pandemic. So finding someone who knew the difference between a carnation and a rose was a big deal for us.

I say that in jest, but saying that we do 'on-the-job training' means that we've had to explain that yes- the flower in my hand that looks like a carnation is a carnation and not some other flower that looks like carnation but is not a carnation. Floristry is a very straightforward practice and for the most part a rose is a rose and a daisy is a daisy and if someone asks for those things, you give it to them.

The hard part is, as always, making them look good together.

Which is why we were pleased with Aggie- who previously did weddings for her friends and seemed to have a basic understanding of how to do things with her hands. We were happy to have her aboard.

... until you gave her criticism.

She made her vases embarrassingly short, and if you tried to tell her how to fix it, she'd snap back with "I'm not DONE yet."

She was done until you said something.

If you gave her an order for two dozen white roses, she would take it upon herself to mix white and yellow roses together 'because it looks better.'

It did not.

Hashtag: #selftaught

When a client asks for all white roses, there is likely a reason they asked for all white. Given that 90% of our work is funerals, it stands to reason that they are asking for all white because that is a traditional color for mourning. Working with a client means doing exactly what they asked for. Doing a wedding for your friends may get you high praise from people who trust you to work in the same aesthetic as them, but in a shop setting you are being paid to follow things to the letter. Doing so shows that you can follow directions, and they may come back next time.

You don't know customer entitlement until you've been torn another asshole for leaving out a single rose.

This seemed to never occur to her, and so criticism was a painful realization that perhaps she wasn't perfect at an art that was exceptionally susceptible to criticism. There were plenty of opportunities to make something in her own aesthetic, it wasn't like she was being stifled. There was a considerable amount of downtime where she filled the front cooler with her own creations- enigmatically giving each of them their own names like "Autumn Walk" or "First Snowfall." (This is not something that we do, on the whole.)

Not very many of those sold.

But I think what bugged me the most is that she only ever designed. She didn't take out the trash, she didn't answer phones, she never helped customers. She just... did flowers. Nothing else.

Oh... and the chatter.

"Do you travel? Oh, you simply MUST go to Bali sometime! You've never been to Asia? Well, there's nothing like achieving inner peace at a Buddhist temple on a mountaintop in Nepal. They have temples here in Ohio, but it's nothing like the real thing! You say you've never even been off the continent? Well, what are you waiting for? You only live once, you know!"

Ma'am... we're in the middle of a pandemic. Ma'am... I only get paid so much...

While trying to relate, I talked about my summer in Montana and she gave me the BIGGEST stank-face. "Montana? Ew, WHY?"

Look, lady- I lived on a mountaintop next to an active, world-destroying volcano system. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

But thankfully, she only worked on weekends. See, this was her fun job. The job she does to stay social during a pandemic and flex her creative muscles while she makes money at her much more lucrative,but boring,HR job. So I only had to see her twice a month when I was manager on duty.

Then she got fired from her weekday job and went full-time at the flower shop. Poor thing wasn't used to waking up at 7am every day. She was full of suggestions.

"I think it would be easier for me if we only opened at like... 11am."

"Don't you think we should be taking proper photos of our work? All we would need is a nice camera and a soft lighting setup. Couldn't be much more than $1000."

"Oh I know! We should be doing inventory on tablets instead of writing things down!"

Okay, you go buy those things then. It took her about a week of making those suggestions to realize that she wasn't real clear on how things worked around here and stopped. She became quiet, less enthusiastic about her 'fun' job now that she wasn't immediately the star of the show.

Enter Yeehaw.

We were excited about Yeehaw, too. He didn't just have experience with flowers- he had experience with a flower shop. He gave a good interview, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and was very passionate about flowers. He was definitely an entire hippie, but about 1/3 of all plant people are. Most importantly, we still had like three spots to fill left from our pre-Covid staff.

Hired.

There was an overlap of about a week where Aggie and Yeehaw worked at the same time. His work was... immaculate. Just... astonishingly beautiful work. You didn't even have to show him how to make anything. He just... knew.

Well, Aggie didn't like that much- we had only nice things to say about this new guy but all she ever got was criticism. And if we complimented him on something he made, he would give a little 'namaste' bow. And I could see her fuming with rage each time he did this.

One day, she rushed into the back to take a phone call and any time someone went back there for a vase she would lower her voice as if keeping a deep secret. Twenty minutes later, she called Grandpa into the back as well to discuss something. Ten minutes later, Aggie left the building with her Live, Laugh, Love bag, looking pissed.

"Where did Aggie go," I asked Grandpa.

"She got a new job," she said. "Doing HR somewhere."

"She didn't even say good-bye," Blue said, appearing unsurprised.

And so we went on with out lives without really putting much further thought into Aggie, apart from the occasional 'you simply MUST visit Bali' line thrown in for bougie emphasis.

Which brings us to the next part of the story, and that is Yeehaw.

There are some details to know about Yeehaw that are kind of difficult to fit into a story neatly. Here is a brief list that may come in handy to know later.

-He lives with his mother.

-He drives a Tesla.

-He can afford the Tesla because he was in a terrible wreck that had him hospitalized, and a lawsuit was won.

-Because of this, he has two screws in his head at the temples.

-Unrelated, he has hair that goes all the way down to his back.

- And...

"Grandpa, we need to tell you something," Blue said. "In private."

Blue and Kali pulled Grandpa aside while Yeehaw slowly put together a funeral order. "Grandpa, there's no polite way to put this: Yeehaw is drunk as fuck."

"He smells like whiskey," Kali said.

"He's stumbling everywhere."

"And he won't stop... burping."

Grandpa paused. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, and she reached for a manila folder. "Yeehaw has something called... what's it called..." She leafed through the file and produced a paper, reading from it. "Auto-brewery Syndrome. His body actually produces alcohol anytime he eats bread or sugar. If he's drunk, it's because he can't help it."

We each had a chance to go over the doctor's note, verifying that yes- that sure does look official. Everyone had questions, but it did answer the one I had about why he was sitting in the break room literally drinking peanut butter from the jar.

So that was incredibly interesting and we no longer asked about the burping or why he was so slow.

However, the fact that he was so slow was extremely frustrating. Our average number of orders runs approximately 100 per-day. This can be eased somewhat when we have a full-staff with five designers- an average of 20 designs per person in an 8-hour day, 3 per hour.

But it's a fine line some days, and if one person cannot keep up it turns into a struggle for all of us.

We did our best to accommodate. We gave him all the day-ahead orders so that we wouldn't be behind and he'd have all the time he'd need to make his gorgeous pieces.

We were willing to make it work.

A number of factors came into play one day, but most notably: Yeehaw's Tesla wouldn't start and he had to take the bus. So he was late.

I think I saw him make one entire item in the two hours that we were in the same room. He went to lunch around 12:30, I took mine around 1:00. I saw him stumble back in from lunch, looking... out of it. Just... absolutely incomprehensible- mumbling, barely upright, his hair out of the bun, quite possibly sleepwalking- who knows?

I saw him for that brief Sasquatch moment... and that was the last that I saw him that day. It was around 4:00 that Grandpa asked the question:

"Where's Yeehaw?"

And no one had an answer. We all had places that we thought we'd seen him: cleaning the cooler, in the break room, heading to the bathroom... but no one had really... seen him since he stumbled back in around 1:30.

We checked all these places.

None of them.

The person who actually managed to find him was Sarge, who noticed his feet sticking out from behind the bushes behind the building.

"Huh," he said, presumably. He gave the feet a light kick and Yeehaw slowly sat back up. "Hey dude. You... okay, there? They're lookin' for you inside."

Yeehaw mumbled something to Sarge and got to his feet, stumbling back into the shop without further interaction. He appeared into the workspace, holding a branch in front of his face for mysterious reasons. There were still twigs entangled in his long hair.

"Where were you at," Grandpa asked, concerned.

"Oh, I was in the bathroom," he lied from behind the branch of mystery. "I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if I go home?"

Bewildered, Grandpa gave him permission to leave. It was soon after he left that Scout found his phone in the empty sink. "Who's trying to wash their phone," he asked in the loud manner that is characteristic of old white men. It rang while in his hand and one of our designers snatched it from him. It was his mother.

"Hello," said the designer. "Yeehaw went home early, but he left his phone behind. Can you bring it home to him?" Mom agreed, she was just over at Trader Joe's anyhow.

We thought, of course, that we were doing something smart and nice. Yeehaw's mom looks just about what you would expect the mother of a 30-year-old hippie that drives a Tesla to look. Grandpa, in a polite way, explained that he'd fallen asleep in a bush. To which Mom seemed neither surprised nor concerned about his behavior.

"Okay. I'll be at Hallmark."

Somewhere between the bus stop and Bexley, Yeehaw must have realized that his phone was not with him and so he came back looking for it. Despite his mother being literally in the same strip mall as we were, he seemed irritated that we'd taken the initiative to make sure his phone got to him.

"Well, I bet if you just went down to Hallmark she'd give you your phone and probably give you a ride home."

He mumbled something and then left.

This seems like a decent place to pause, because him leaving the second time in the day should be the end of the story. However... at 5:00 in the evening there was still two hours left in the work day and from past experience... that is plenty of time for a lot of things to happen.

The thing to happen was a phone call.

"Hi, this is Jade from the main store. We've gotten... some... interesting phone calls. Is there... a... hmm... is there a dead body out in front of your store?"

Pause.

"We'll take care of it, bye."

Who wants to be the one to poke the cadaver on the sidewalk? A volunteer from the audience! Ms Crowe: won't you come down?!

I have had it planted firmly in my mind that Crowe certainly understands the concept of fear but does not recognize it. Apart from being one of our most reliable drivers, she is also a performer, a street medic, an activist, and most notably... a fire-breather.

You have your hobbies.

Point is- she's brave enough to check to see if the person laying on the sidewalk was dead or simply overdosed.

As it turns out, it was Yeehaw- curled up in the fetal position with his arm covering his face.

"Hey," Crowe said, poking him with her foot. "Heeeeeeey," she said again but more firmly this time. He moved, blinking in the evening the sun. "Buddy, you can't be laying around on the sidewalk. You gotta move on."

Again, he slowly got to his feet. At this time, his mother emerged from Hallmark to see him talking with Crowe. A group of four people escorted him into Mom's car while he stopped every few feet to perform another 'namaste' bow.

You think this is the end. But what have we learned?

There's always more.

He came in the next day as if none of this had happened. Conversation was difficult because we both desperately needed to know what the fuck happened and also did not want to trigger something. So we didn't bring it up. He apologized for leaving early: chronic fatigue syndrome, you know.

Other places would have fired him, but we're a very forgiving workplace. Falling asleep on company time is not, in any way, the worst thing that someone has done at this location while still keeping their job. There was Sugar and her drugs, there was the dude that used the company van to pick up prostitutes (this was before my time), there was the guy that screamed at customers over the phone... it's a long list.

The primary concern of our employers is whether or not you are a reliable person. If you routinely show up for your job and do the work, you're going to be okay at least for a little bit. And Yeehaw, for all his impeccable fuckery, at least showed up every day.

We kept this at the back of our minds.

One day, after the Day We Found Him In a Bush was behind us, one of the designers mentioned that they'd seen where Aggie works now. It was not in HR.

It was our major competitor.

Now, Grandpa knows this competitor well. She knows all her competition. It is the nature of a lot of florists to, once they've gotten sick of one place, move on to the next one and spill the beans on their operations there. So Grandpa gets the dirt on everyone.

This particular shop was very regimented. You don't wing it- you follow the recipe as listed. He's been known to pick discarded flowers up off the floor and tell you exactly how much money you're costing the company by letting it fall, to the cent. If you get so far as to make casket sprays, he will take your first one and chuck it across the room if it even looks like the stems are in there too loosely.

This is what I mean about us being an easy place to work.

Hashtag: #ohfuck.

People come in and out of your life like that, in little ways. Sometimes you just have to have a little laugh at it. But what I thought was funny was that she felt the need to keep her new employer a secret, as though we would get jealous or tattle. Curious thing.

Now that the glamour of Yeehaw's arrangements had worn off, we were starting to see more and more odd behaviors that didn't seem completely related to drunkenness.

"Did you just fart?"

"No, that was a spider barking."

Amazing.

Conversation with him was becoming... difficult. As I sat in the break room with my quick lunch and he drank soup out of a mayonnaise jar, he mentioned his area of study in college.

"Cognitive Psychology and Hindu Philosophy, huh? That's an interesting combination."

"Yeah," he said, funneling an amount of squash soup down his throat. "It'll take the rest of the world about 100 years before they catch up to where I am."

I sat, posed in front of my beef and broccoli which I was eating with a fork, trying to process a logical reason why the rest of the world will be sleeping in a bush in one hundred years. "Uh... huh."

This was followed by another thirty minutes of silence where I desperately wanted to know what he meant by that but didn't want to be the one to ask him.

People will tell you that a hippie is generally an ineffective, benign kind of person who chants 'love love, peace peace' in a circle and consider that to be an action for change. But I can say with absolute certainty that I have met some downright egotistical hippies in my life. Those were lessons in bias- which I will have to save for other times.

Eventually, Grandpa became frustrated with his slowness. We presumed that his speed of choice was a combination of his meticulous nature and his various ailments, but with the Christmas season coming upon us it was becoming much more than a series of symptoms.

Previous persons who lacked speed were chatty, would play on their phone, or get distracted. But Yeehaw... Yeehaw simply moved like a tranquilized sloth. He slowly picked off each leaf, each thorn, each guard petal and took a minute for each action. He would put in his greens and then contemplate it powerfully for ten minutes before putting any flowers in... slowly.

In the time spent doing this, I had already made something of a similar size and was starting on the second one.

It was during one of these times that Grandpa finally said something.

"Yeehaw, that spray is due in thirty minutes. Is there a way you can go any faster?"

He looked up from his greens, held one carnation to his face, and said:

"If you wanted me to move faster, you would pay me better."

Let me start by saying that we do not get paid well. We don't. Compared to other flower shops in our city, we are probably the lowest-paid. This is something that the company is starting to work on with benefits and raises, but any amount of change takes time. (And its still better paying than when I worked in retail. But that's another book.)

Yeehaw had been here for exactly one month. I don't know a single workplace that gives you a raise after one month and still lets you sleep on the clock without firing you. He knew what he was getting paid when we hired him.

So anyways, he slowly grinds down our nerves to a very fine dust- burping, farting, falling asleep on his feet, staring intensely into space, talking about how much he should be making but isn't, bragging about his enlightenment, and generally just slowing down production.

And then Grandpa had her well-earned vacation week. Blue was in charge for the most part and the week leading up to Halloween is generally pretty slow, so it was a good week for her to have a break with few mishaps.

Eh... hehe. Yeah.

Yeehaw... disappeared again. We checked the cooler, we checked the break room, we checked the bushes out back, we checked the sidewalk out front.

He was in the bathroom.

So we left it.

He was still in the bathroom an hour later.

We had one of the male drivers pound on the door to check on him. When Yeehaw opened the door to the men's room, there was a wad of toilet paper on the floor that he'd been using as a pillow.

If I may pause here to explain- our men's room is disgusting. I have deep cleaned it several times only for it to become a germ-fest once more in a matter of hours. I don't ask who is peeing all over the floor because, honestly, I have no desire to know what grown man can't aim his willy in the right direction.

So in order to fall asleep in the bathroom, you have to be willing to sleep in pee. During a pandemic.

He reappeared in the workroom, put his apron back on, looked around at all of us still working and said: "Wow, it must be really hard to get fired here."

It was at this point that Blue informed Grandpa.

"Tell him that he's fired," Grandpa said, clearly 1001% done with this.

"I'm not going to fire him," Blue said. "I don't think I can fire anyone."

So she had the driver that found him do it, which was confusing for all of us. He ended up calling Grandpa to clarify. And by 'clarify,' I definitely mean 'beg for his job back.' A synopsis of the 20 minute phone call went like this:

"What do you mean, I'm fired?"

"Just that. You're fired. I'm tired of it, Yeehaw. You don't work here anymore."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why?' You spend all day making a total of three arrangements and then you wander off somewhere and fall asleep."

"I can't help it if I have chronic fatigue syndrome!"

"This is a physical job. If your body can't handle an 8-hour shift without falling asleep for two hours, this isn't the job for you. Tell me: where is that fair to the girls that you do 3% of the work while they pick up the slack and you wander off to sleep on the clock?"

"I simply do not care about them."

"You don't care that you're shoving all the work on your coworkers, and that's why you're fired."

"I wish you'd given me a warning."

"Tell me, Yeehaw: how many employers can you find that will allow you to sleep on the clock for two hours and let you off with a warning?"

End of discussion.

Now, you're probably wondering where Aggie comes back into this. Just hold tight, I'll get there.

The Sunday after he was fired, he came in to pick up his paycheck. I was busy handling a minor emergency where one of our funeral homes forgot to order a spray and I had to make one as fast as I could. We held a brief conversation while I made the spray in a hurry.

"I'm here to pick up my check," he said while I greened the spray and leafed through the paychecks simultaneously.

"Here you go," I said, handing it to him without much fanfare. I presumed that he was looking for sympathy or some kind of followup or... I don't know. Sorry you suddenly care about your job?

"So what are your next plans," one of the designers asked, trying to coax more information out of him while I did the work of three people.

"It's kind of funny," he said slowly... as he did all things. "I've only ever been fired from flower shops." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to go apply to the shop in Bexley that Aggie went to."

#as the world turnips

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give-grian-rights · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER TWO HOUR. CHAPTER TWO HOUR. I AM SO TIRED. IT IS 6AM. TELL ME IF HTERE’S TYPOS AND THAT NORMAL STUFF

Bets Against The Void, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Whitelist au from @petrichormeraki

Crossposted on AO3

Tubbo quietly chuckled, smiling fondly as their friend squawked indignantly. “Tubbo! I’m serious, explain some shit, fuckin’ nerd!” Tommy scoffed, prodding at their side with his elbow. Tubbo hushed him, their smirk still lingering.

“Hermitcraft is a super crazy popular server. If you’ve ever searched for examples of builds on your tablet, chances are, they’re from one of the Hermits. Or if you looked up something about redstone! Anything! You’ll find one of their instructions. They’re geniuses- just, complete geniuses. Grian’s one of them-”

“Grian’s one of them!?” Tommy exclaimed, his eyes shooting open. Tubbo’s grin widened, nodding vigorously. “Yes! He’s the newest Hermit, last I heard.. Most of the guys he’s teammates with every MCC, they’re usually other Hermits!” They’d continue explaining to the best of their ability.

“Should’ve fuckin’ started with the fact that Grian’s here! That fuckin’ dude! He killed Dream three times! Three times, Tubbo!” The blond continued with his excited shouting. Well, that certainly fixed the situation, Tubbo mused.

The brunett nodded along, chuckling. “Yeah! He, and most of the others, really- post all that much right now. The new World Client, with the axolotls and caves ‘n stuff? They’ve started posting and sharing discoveries about that. I know Grian did, at least. But considering they call themselves the ‘Hermits’ it makes sense to be a bit inactive, yeah?” Tubbo shrugged, tapping the chilly cool sandstone beneath them.

Tommy nodded dumbly, glancing around the room for a moment. Tubbo, meanwhile, had pulled their tablet up. The holographic comm system was displayed infront of them, everything on the screen they touched being read aloud to them.

Launching an accessibility app, the tablet began describing aloud the block palette, dimensions, and colors. As the tablet’s robotic voice played in his com system, reading aloud the details of his surrounding, Tubbo nodded along to an incoherent rant from Tommy.

Tubbo wasn’t too sure what Tommy was ranting about- likely MCC, and Grian. Grian got a kill on Tommy, last MCC, if they remember correctly. The brunnett wouldn’t be surprised if that was the target of the blond’s current tangent. Tommy hadn’t even been able to get a word out, when Grian began shouting vigorous apologises between matches.

The descriptions from the tablet were long, and boring. The robotic voice drawing on and on, as it attempted to describe the intricate room. Shutting down the program, Tubbo tuned back into Tommy.

“Fuckin’ am..So fucking tired. Of course we ended up here. It’d be to easy if we’d just be let back into Dream SMP, huh? Think Dream even knew we were out? I bet not. Even if he does, probably didn’t even care, fuckin’ dick. Bet that green asshole’s just sitting over his code and shit, simping over Gogy-” The blond ranted heatedly. The blind teen could hear the shifting and chustling of fabric, before the boy’s voice became muffled.

With his head pressed against his knees, legs drawn to his chest, Tommy sat there practically panting. His chest heaved, the rage draining from him. “Why is all- all of this, always so complicated, Tubbo?” Blue eyes turned to meet the scarred, burnt front of the other.

Tubbo picked at faded and torn tennis shoes, tentatively listening. The rymnatic pattern of the boy’s breathing, and the crashing overhead, offered some vague comfort. “All of what?” They’d tilt their head.

The younger of the two quietly sighed, his mouth pressed in a thin line. His hand clutched the bottom of his torn, tan cargo pants, fidgetting with the frayed ends. “Us. Shit with us, it always gets so fuckin’ complicated. Big Man, you’re president. You’re- you’re the fucking president, now, Tubbo.”

The bunnett’s brows furrowed together, as they inched closer to their friend. “Yeah. But it’s- it’s still us, y’know? If- if life was easy, then we’d be missing out on a lot of things. What if we had just never met-”

“We’d always meet eachother, Tubbo. There’s no fuckin’ getting rid of me, even in your fantasy world.” The blond nudged the teen’s shoulder, a wolfish grin evident in his tone.

That made the other crack a smile, shaking their head. “I hope so, Tommy.” They’d chuckle, shaking their head. The weight of the day came crashing down all again. Before the rushing thoughts could boggle down their mind, Tubbo slumped against Tommy’s side sigh an exhausted sigh.

“This is just, livin’ the fucking life, huh?” Tommy remarked, looking over his friend. The tall boy already shifted himself, his long legs sprawled out on the floor with his back leaned against sandstone walls.

His head leaned against that of his compaignian, half-lidded blue eyes giving one last surveillance of the room. “We’ll figure this shit out tomorrow..” Tommy mumbled, glancing down at the brunette.

Tubbo was already asleep, their expression finally one of peace. Tommy wasn’t given a moment more to appreciate the serenity of the quiet room, before he’d be pulled into slumber as well.

Both of the teens were stirred awake by the whirring noises of an active portal- the Netherportal beside them, with particles flying, gaveway to two players. Tommy kicked himself up to his feet, defensively. Tubbo stumbled along with him, pulling back away from the strangers.

Though two stepped out, only one immediately caught Tommy’s eyes.

“W- Holy shit! You’re Grian!” Tommy squawked indignantly.

Tubbo’s head immediately shot up, excitably breaking into a grin. Any exhaustion the two held was wiped away- neither was sure how long their unrestful sleep had been, but it was far more than other nights.

The target of the excitement, Grian, sheepishly stood there, nodding. “Uh, yeah! You guys are Tommy and Tubbo, yeah? I’ve seen you at most of the MCC’s I’ve been to. You both did really good last time, by the way! I’m really looking forward to the next one!”

This was easily the closest they probably ever were to the dirty blond. He also looked far more at ease, on this server. The iconic figure, ever-present in the community, had his wild mop of a fringe frazzled and framing his face.

Poking under the bangs, Tommy could now see faint, ragged lines from a scar, along with other various healed-over wounds. Another contrary to how either of them had seen Grian, at MCC, was the large circular glasses loosely sat on his face.

Seeing one of his heroes like this (The only one that hadn’t betrayed, killed him, turned against him, despised him-) in such a..Domestic state, was bizarre. Tommy was scrambling for words, starting and giving up on getting his tongue around what to say.

“This is so cool! Hi! I used to watch and- and listen, to a lot of your old build tutorials! A lot of people on our server would always say how we learned building from you!” Tubbo would blurt out, practically bouncing on their heel. Grian turned to the teen, slightly shocked but amused.

“Oh! I- well thank you! I’m glad I could be any help at all- my builds are nothing compared to some of what the other Hermits have going on..Speaking of others- this is Stress!” He’d take the opportunity to escape the small spotlight, glancing towards the brunette woman next to him sheepishly.

The woman- Stress, apparently, quietly chuckled. A fond smile grazed her face, as she looked over towards the two teenagers. “Ello there, Loves! Sorry to interrupt your fan meetup,” She teased, side-eyeing the dirty blond beside her. “We just wanted to come and check in, is all! X told us two to come visit, yeah?”

Tommy quietly hummed skeptically, surveying her. Short brown hair hung barely as low as her shoulder, a neat, white, blue, and pink flower-crown sat upon her head. The colors must’ve been very purposeful, considering they matched with her colorful outfit of the same color.

“Fine, sure..Well, we’re still fuckin’ breathing, and we’re here. So you don’t really need to be here any longer, yeah?” Tommy scoffed, slumping back against the wall. Tubbo was already standing, nudging at his side.

“Thank you, for checking in. I- I’m sure this is a bit of a strange situation. That- Yeah, that’s my bad.” They chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. This caught Stress’ attention, turning towards the tene.

“Oh, no! This isn’t a problem at all. Dear, this happens all the time. Grian just- just appeared, one day, in our previous server. We walk out the portal for the first time- and boom! There that weirdo is!” Stress chuckled, her grin unwavering as she gave a playful nudge to the dirty blond beside her.

Grian scoffed, a smirk edging at his lips as he rolled his eyes. “Okay, but I’m not the only example of that happening- you didn’t have to pick me out specifically!”

“Sure I do, Love! You’re the first new Hermit to join, after me and Zed! I get to bully you, lovingly!” She cheered. Stress’ energy was absolutely efficacious, Tubbo couldn’t help but smile and cackle at her and Grian’s banter.

“Uh huh,” Grian scoffed, dramatically crossing his arms. “Last I checked, that was Iskall’s job to bully newcomers- oh, Gord, when you all walked out of the portal and they just decked me ? I mean, it didn’t really hurt all that bad, but it’s a matter of the principle!”

Stress seemed like she was almost gonna break down with laughter, clutching her stomach. “I forgot they did that with you, too! Iskall certainly is one that needs work with their introduction, that absolute weirdo!” She chostled, shaking her head fondly.

She then turned towards the two teens, reassuringly smiling. “They won’t give you any hard time, they’re just like that sometimes, especially in the beginning of a new season..They’re usually just incomprehensible in the beginning, I learnt!” She giggled, covering her mouth.

Tubbo awkwardly laughed, nodding. “Yeah- they, they sound like something.” It was..A strange environment, to be sure.

Sure, they knew of the Hermits, their reputation impossible to avoid- but most outsiders didn’t know much about the actual Hermits. They went by that title for a reason.

Tommy was having similar thoughts, he felt as if he was completely imposing on, everything. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care- it frankly was..Warming, almost, to see this. He missed being able to have that, on Dream’s server.

The blond in particular seemed to have tuned out, because by the time he snapped out of those thoughts, Grian was speaking again.

“We’re glad to see you’re both alright, but, I don’t think we’ve been exactly great hosts. You both have gotta be hungry- I know the last thing you two seem to want is help, but..We’d be happy to help you however we can. We can go get you fresh, real food. Or- you both come with us, and we take you to our central area, the Cowmercial district.”

Tommy stared blankly at Grian for a moment, brows knitted together in bewilderment. “The… Cow..merical district?” He’d repeat, squinting.

Grian snickered, nodding. “Yeah! The name just stuck. It’s our shopping district. We have a bakery- it’s never, ever too early for cake. There’s Doc’s shop, but that’s all villager-bought, if it’s the rare occasion that it’s stocked at all- so the Bakery may be the only option, for today.” He glanced back at Stress, who nodded in agreement.

“Only if you’d want to,” Stress would interject. “Either of us could come bring you food here- but, we figured you might want to just..Get out. You’re allowed to leave here whenever you want- but, navigating our server by yourself, for the first time? Not the easiest.”

The two teens glanced towards eachother. Tubbo looked like they were practically buzzing in place, at the idea of exploring the Hermits’ world. Tommy watched them for a moment, before quietly scoffing.

“..Yeah, okay, sure- how the hell do we even get out of here though, for starters?” Tommy crossed his arms, inching closer towards Tubbo. He, for one, was really not a fan of having to fly out.

Stress cheered excitably, pulling open her inventory. The woman promptly dropped a stack each to the two teens. “I came prepared, just in-case!” She grinned. With a swipe of her arm, the digital screen dissipated.

“If you know how to use elytras, X already said he’s more than happy to lend out two from the back-up system. I have some to spare, as well. But- you two never seemed the most comfortable in the air, during flight-based games.” Grian would add awkwardly, adjusting his own wings behind him.

Tommy didn’t pay much attention to the words- instead, he promptly threw open his inventory, gawking at the full stack of pearls. “What! I don’t think i’ve ever had this many pearls! Holy shit!” He pulled out the stack of sixteen.

One pearl manifested in his hand, while a holographic icon hovered beside him. The pixel-image of an enderpearl, with a large 15x in the corner in white font was projected for only his vision. The blond couldn’t remember a time he had so many enderpearls.

“Thank you! Wow- yeah, pearls aren’t really common in our server! This- this is really nice!” They felt giddy, as they pulled their’s out as well, the action muscle-memory.

“Well, I’m glad you two can put them to good-use, then!” She chuckled. The idle question of how can a server lack pearls skimming through her head for a moment.

Within seconds of her saying that, Tommy had already blindly tossed one of his pearls- promptly falling down from the ceiling, and landing on the floor with a short shriek. Tubbo straightened up from the sidelines, tilting their head.

“Tommy! What did you do?” Tubbo called out accusatorily, as they quickly popped their surrounding descriptor back on.

“Nothing!” Tommy quickly yelled back, lunging to their feet with a stumble as they dusted themselves off.

At the sidelines, Stress and Grian cackled, watching in lighthearted amusement. Tommy could feel his face flushed red with brief embarrassment, quickly attempting to play it off.

“Truer answer; I was being awesome. That was what, Tubbo. Are we eating or what? I want to throw pearls and go places. And eat, that too.” He quickly turned towards the two Hermits expectantly, narrowing his eyes at them.

Grian grinned, nodding. “Yes, yes we are! I have boats. Go ahead and pop up with your pearls, and we’ll fly out to you.” He explained briefly, pulling the boats from his inventory. The thin, digitized object manifesting in his hand.

Tommy turned expectantly to Tubbo. “You got this, Toob?” He tilted his head, watching his friend. Tubbo had immediately nodded vigoriously, running over towards the center of the room, the ceiling above open to the water.

“Yeah! I’ve got this, Big Man! No sweat!” They gave a toothy grin, shifting the enderpearl in their hand. Arching their arm back, the teen cautiously stepped back.

Their communicator had continued reading off the details of the room into their thin earpiece, primarily the dimensions. All they had to do was hit the wall leading up to the surface to get out. They could do that, surely.

With a huff of effort, they chucked the pearl. They heard it break through the under-surface of the water, and then they were submerged. Breaching the surface, they gasped for a moment. The ocean rippled, clothes heavy and soaked. They were certainly glad they had been in their casual clothes, rather than their presidential outfit.

Within a moment, Tommy was up beside them, quietly gasping as well. The blond pushed his hair back, lightly nudging Tubbo away from the gaping hole in the water beneath them- and then Grian and Stress flew out.

The sound from the rockets were deafened from beneath the ocean, thankfully. Only a thin trail of smoke followed them, the sight certainly unfamiliar to the fireworks the two teens had been accustomed to.

Both Hermits had dived straight into the shallow water with a splash, before the dirty-blond dropped down two boats.

“I want to drive! Tommy, i’m driving us!” Tubbo cried out, at the sound of the wood hitting the water. Beside them, Tommy scoffed.

“Tubbo! I’m not gettin’ motion sickness! We just woke up, no way. Your idea of ‘driving’ is no one elses, my friend.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he pulled himself into the boat. Beside him, Tubbo whined.

“C’mon, man! Nothing like a bit of motion-sickness to get the day started!” They playfully remarked. Despite that, they had already accepted their defeat, pulling up into the boat.

Stress and Grian watched the teens carefully, with Stress laughing lightheartedly at the banter between them as she pulled herself into the boat, behind Grian.

Grian, on the otherhand, was mostly quiet. A thin wisp of a smile was present, conveying one of bemusement. Tommy didn’t get a good look, but, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the look from Grian. He didn’t like it.

“Alright,” The older Brit at hand started. “We’re real close. No one should be at Looky Looky At My Cookie- and it should be early enough that there aren’t any real occupants at the Cowmerical District.” He explained, turning the boat as he got a small start ahead of the teens.

“Sure, then! That sounds g- wait, what’s that name?”

“C’mon, then!” Grian wouldn't answer Tubbo’s valid question, before boating off. Tommy quickly following behind, shouting indignantly after them.

It certainly was odd. It felt..Comforting, here. Certainly not relaxing. The opposite of cf relaxing- Tubbo had nothing but the craving to do something. But it was..Welcoming. It was strange. They hadn’t felt so- so unbothered, since..Ever, really. They liked it.

Tubbo wondered if it could stay this way.

Tommy wondered what the hell they were about to get themselves into.

#bets against the void fic #whitelist au #mika-posts #mcyt fic #mcyt au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fic #dream smp fic

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kasienda · 3 years ago

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The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 3 - Best Laid Plans

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chat Noir was wearing the snake miraculous this evening as he always did now, but he hadn’t activated it. Tonight, he needed Alya to remember he had been there. He landed on the balcony of Alya’s bedroom and peered into the room cautiously. He had never actually been here before, and wanted to confirm he was in the right place.

Sure enough, Alya was sitting at a computer across the room.

He tapped on the glass. She looked up, and her amber eyes widened when they landed on him. He waved. She got up immediately, and slipped through the sliding glass door.

“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” Chat said.

She smiled warmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Chat Noir?”

He couldn’t help the hand that went to the back of his neck. “Well, this might seem like it’s out of nowhere, but I was… kinda worried about Nino?”

Her eyes popped out of her head. Whatever she had been expecting, that had not been it. “What? Why?”

Read on Ao3

“Well, Hawkmoth has impersonated him twice now. Once as actual Nino and another as Bubbler. It seems like Nino has become a target. I just… if it was me, I would worry about my friends and family mistaking an imposter for me. And I would want to protect them.”

If anything, Alya’s eyes grew larger. “I don’t know if Nino was the target,” she whispered. “I think Hawkmoth is using him to get to me.”

Chat frowned. “Why would Hawkmoth be targeting you?”

“I… uh… I think he thinks I have a special connection with Ladybug… you know, because of the Ladyblog.”

Chat Noir nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”

She sighed and leaned against the railing next to him.

“So what do we do?”

He stared out into the skyline. “I was thinking it would be fairly easy actually. You and him just need to set up some kind of call and response code. Something that only you and he know. You could tell him to do something similar with all the people he’s close to. And maybe you could do the same with people in your life… if you’re worried.”

She nodded. “That sounds good.” And then she considered him for a moment. “Why did you come to me instead of going to him directly?”

He tensed at the question. He had been rather hoping she wouldn’t ask that. Honestly, he could have mentioned it to him as Adrien, but he felt that Adrien had less reason to notice something was up with Nino, and Adrien didn’t exactly have the background to be thinking about threats constantly. His father hired people for that. And Alya and Nino - they were just super close - and seemed to communicate well. He just thought Nino would be more receptive if the idea came from his girlfriend. But it’s not like he could explain all that.

But maybe, he could explain some of it.

“Well… uh… I don’t know him?” he lied. “But I do sort’ve know you. And I’m sure he would take it better coming from someone he knows and cares about rather than a random superhero.”

She scoffed. “You’re hardly some random superhero, Chat Noir.”

“Nice to know I have a fan,” he purred, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

She shoved him back with an eyeroll and he grinned. “Stop,” she scolded. “You know I have a boyfriend.”

He smoothed out his face and gave her a genuine smile. “You are both very lucky to have each other.”

She smiled. “I definitely think so. Thank you, Chat Noir. I appreciate you looking after my boyfriend this way.”

He gave her a two-fingered salute. “Of course! Just doing my job.” He was about to leave, but then he hesitated. “Do you have a pen and paper?” he asked.

“Uh… sure. Give me a second.” She slipped inside and returned with his requested items.

“If you run into any issues that need my attention, this is my username on the Ladyblog. You can DM me.”

She blinked at him, at the offered paper stupidly. “Oh my god!! You’re on my blog?!”

He grinned cheekily. “Of course! I am Ladybug’s biggest fan after all. And you seem to have the best scoops in that regard. I don’t know how you do it! Sometimes, it seems like you know her better than I do.”

She burst out laughing. “Well, a girl can’t give away all her secrets, now can she?”

He smiled again. “I suppose not,” he said. “Thank you, Alya.”

“No, thank you, Chat Noir.” She stepped forward and he stepped easily into the offered embrace. He squeezed her tightly.

“For what?” He pulled away.

She smiled sincerely. “For everything you do.”

He blushed at the praise. “Like I said. All in a day’s work. See you around, Ladyblogger!”

“See you, Chat Noir!”

And he launched himself back into the sky.

…

He should have gone back home. It’s what he had planned on. He had a history exam coming up next week that he wasn’t entirely prepared for, but he was already so close by, he couldn’t help, but want to check in on Nino. He would set the time loop, check in on how Nino was doing, reset it, and head home without Nino ever knowing he was there.

He landed in a crouch in Nino’s bedroom.

His friend was sitting on his bed, swiping through his phone. His golden eyes snapped towards Snake Noir the second he had landed. His eyes narrowed. He did not so much as crack a smile.

Something was wrong.

“Is there an akuma?” Nino bit out, his voice hard and unwelcoming.

Adrien shook his head. “No,” he said, and then frowned. “Dude, are you okay?”

“What do you want?” Nino demanded, ignoring his question entirely.

Snake Noir took a step backwards. “Nino?”

“I think you should leave,” Nino said, and turned his gaze away from his unexpected guest.

But Adrien didn’t want to leave. Not when Nino was so clearly upset. “Nino, it’s me. Adrien.”

Adrien expected Nino to soften and pull him into a hug like he had every time Adrien had revealed himself, or at least explain why the hell he was so upset. But that’s not what happened.

Nino eyes shot back towards him, wide with shock. “W-what?!” He took in a shaky breath. “Dude! How could you do this to me?!” Nino was screaming now. He had bolted to his feet.

Adrien took another step back, raising his hands in surrender. “Nino! What are you talking about?”

“Like you don’t know!” Nino snarled.

“I don’t know!” Adrien insisted.

“I think you should leave.”

“What?! Nino! Please! Can we talk about whatever this is?” Adrien begged.

“No! I don’t think we can.”

“Second chance,” Adrien mumbled to himself, and he was outside Nino’s window. He glanced at Nino’s slumped form sitting on the bed for just a second before vaulting upwards to the roof of the building.

He sat down on the tiled roof. What the hell had happened? Why did Nino hate him now? What had he done? Adrien’s hands were shaking even transformed. Nino was his rock, and now he felt adrift without that support.

He lost the transformation and pulled out his phone, and immediately dialed his best friend. It wasn’t Adrien he was mad at - at least, not until he knew Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person. But why the hell would Nino be angry with Chat Noir?

Nino immediately answered.

“Hey dude,” Nino greeted, his voice sullen.

“Nino, what’s wrong?”

Nino sighed. “I think Alya is cheating on me.”

“What?” The idea didn’t even compute, it was just too incomprehensible.

“With Chat Noir.”

“What?!” Adrien said again, more in shock.

“Dude, I don’t know what to do!”

And Adrien could hear Nino’s pain. He had to fix this. It was clearly a misunderstanding.

“I’m here,” Adrien told him. “Now, explain this to me from the beginning. Why do you think Alya is cheating on with you? And with Chat Noir?”

“She’s… been off for awhile now. I don’t know what’s going on, and I didn’t want to pry. She usually will tell me things when she’s ready. But she started missing a bunch of our dates, and her reasons… they don’t sound… right.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means… I think she’s lying.”

“Could there be any other explanation?”

“For the avoiding me and making weird excuses? Probably! But I saw her earlier today with Chat Noir.”

“Okay, did you see them kissing or something?” Adrien asked. He knew there hadn’t been anything to see. He had maybe flirted a tiny bit, but even then she had only rolled her eyes and chastised him.

“Nothing like that, really. But she was laughing. She was so at ease, open, and lively. And I… I haven’t seen her like that in… weeks.”

“Nino…” Adrien trailed off, uncertain what to say. “I don’t claim to know what’s going on with Alya, or why she’s been distant. But she wouldn’t do this to you.”

And neither would Chat Noir.

“You didn’t see them together!” Nino shouted, and Adrien had to pull the phone away from his face. “I know what I saw!”

Adrien’s phone buzzed. And he opens it to reveal a picture of Alya and Chat Noir in a hug.

“Nino, this…” how did he explain this wasn’t what it looked like? “There’s no way Alya would cheat on you. Not even with a superhero.”

Nino dissolved into tears. “I just don’t know anymore. She’s hiding something. And I don’t want to pry, but my mind just keeps going in these spirals and I don’t now how to get it to stop. I just can’t… help but wonder if she doesn’t love me anymore. And she’s always loved the heroes. It would be difficult to compete with a guy like that.”

“Nino, what are you talking about?!” Adrien asked, wanting to point out that Nino was a hero, too. “You’re a fantastic catch!”

“Sure, but he’s Chat Noir! Have you seen his butt in leather? And he’s funny! And… charming! And who even knows how many times he’s saved Paris!”

Adrien was grateful this wasn’t a video call, but he could still feel the heat from his cheeks to his ears.

“He flirts with everyone!” Nino continued.

Adrien stiffened. He didn’t flirt with everyone. But he had flirted a tiny bit with Alya earlier, but he hadn’t meant anything by it. He was just being friendly.

“He could totally steal away someone’s girlfriend!”

Whether or not that was true (and Adrien had his doubts), Adrien knew he would never do that.

“Or even someone’s boyfriend!”

Seriously?!

“Does Alya need to be worried about you coming on to Chat Noir?” Adrien interjected.

“What?! No! I would definitely put him in his place! I love Alya so much!”

“And she would do the same!” Adrien insisted.

Nino didn’t say anything. And a few seconds later, he realized Nino was crying. His visit to Alya had made Nino cry. He had only been trying to help. He had to fix this.

“Nino, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean…” he trailed off sadly. He couldn’t truly say what he wanted to. Not without revealing himself. Which… he probably would have if Nino wasn’t so pissed specifically at Chat Noir.

“You don’t understand,” Nino sobbed. “Chat is not just some superhero to us.”

“He’s not?” Adrien asked cautiously. He really hoped this wasn’t going where he suspected it was going.

“Alya and I know him.”

“He has saved you both more than once,” Adrien said. Please, take the excuse. Please take the excuse.

“No!”

Adrien could hear Nino pulling his own hair out in frustration.

“That’s not what I mean,” Nino said. “Dude, can I tell you something? I’m not supposed to, but I’m going to lose it! I don’t know who else to talk to about any of this!”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t really matter if Nino told him what he already knew, was it? But he knew Ladybug might feel differently about it.

Of course, he didn’t have to say anything to Ladybug. What was more thing he couldn’t talk about?

“You can trust me, Nino,” Adrien assured.

“Alya and I are superheroes, too.”

“You and Alya?” Adrien repeated, covering his face with the palm of his hand. How did he not see this coming?! Ladybug was going to kill him.

“She’s Rena Rouge. And I’m Carapace.”

Which made so much sense it wasn’t even funny. He was so close to losing it to hysterical laughter anyway.

Seriously, was everyone he knew a superhero? Who was next? His father?

“Please say something,” Nino begged and Adrien shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Wow,” Adrien said. “You’re a superhero! What’s that like?”

“Dude! I can’t even explain it. It’s exhilarating, and terrifying, and I don’t know how, out of everyone in all of Paris, Ladybug chose me to help her.”

Adrien smiled. Yeah, that was a pretty amazing feeling - the only fond memory he had as his time as Aspik.

“I mean, Alya showed me some footage of Anansi. You were pretty badass even without a miraculous. It doesn’t surprise me that Ladybug would recognize that.”

“Thanks, dude. That means a lot. I just… I don’t want to be mad at Chat Noir. He’s my friend.”

Adrien found himself tearing up.

“Or he was,” Nino added on. And Adrien sighed.

“Nino, this isn’t really about Chat Noir. This is about your relationship with Alya. Do you trust her?”

“I don’t want to be mad at Alya even more than I don’t want to be mad at Chat Noir.”

“Have you talked to her about any of this?”

“No,” Nino admitted.

“I’m telling you, Alya loves you. She wouldn’t do this. Not even a superhero who she happens to work with or be friends with. You’re her hero.”

“You really think so?”

Adrien snorted. “Yeah man, I really do. Will you please go talk to her before you make assumptions.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Nino said.

Adrien thought for a second. “You could probably start with what you told me. Tell her that you feel like she’s been avoiding you. See what she says.”

Nino laughed. “You don’t think I should start with accusations?”

“I mean…” Adrien hedged. He wasn’t going to lie. He was definitely scared of Alya. Just a little bit. “I wouldn’t?”

Nino laughed. He actually laughed, and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright dude. Thanks for talking me off the cliff. I’ll call her now, and see if we can meet up.”

The call ended and Adrien stood up, hoping that Nino’s conversation with Alya went well. He knew that hug had been her thanking him. Surely, she would explain and everything would be fine.

He transformed and ran across rooftops anyway. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if Nino hated half of his identity. He wouldn’t be able to visit anymore, even with the snake.

Adrien had to have faith in Alya. It would be okay.

…

Nino knocked on the door. Etta answered. Or maybe it was Ella. Honestly, Nino hasn’t learned to tell them apart yet, and today, it wasn’t his highest priority.

“Alya! Your nerdy boyfriend is here!”

“Hey! Be nice!” Alya chastised her younger sister. And then she pushed her back into the room as she came out on the patio, closing the door behind her.

The beaming smile she offered him went a long way toward soothing his tortured feelings. Adrien was probably right, but there was still an inkling if doubt that he couldn’t quite quash. He managed a weak smile back. She deserved more.

“Nino! I was just about to call you!”

“You were?”

“You won’t believe who paid me a visit earlier today?!” She told him, her voice literally oozed with excitement.

“Chat Noir?” he guessed, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. “How’d you know?”

He pulled out his phone, and flipped to the picture. “I was on my way to visit you.” He squeezed his shoulder, trying to reassure himself.

She took the device from him eagerly, her smile only widening. “This is such a good shot! I’m so happy you caught it!”

“You are?” And he might have sounded a little accusatory. He was trying to clamp down on it, and not start with accusations like Adrien said.

She glanced at him, startled. And for the first time, she seemed to sense something was off. “Nino? What’s wrong?”

“Okay, so this might seem ridiculous, but what does Chat Noir mean to you?”

Her eyes narrowed for a second, and then went wife as she rapidly connected dots. “Oh my god! Are you serious right now?! You think that I would do that to you?” Her eyes had returned to hard narrow slits; she was pissed!

But for the first time in his life, Nino was thrilled that she was furious with him. Her anger put to rest all her fears. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just you’ve been so… distracted lately. And you’ve bailed on several of our dates and it feels like when I ask you dodge the question.”

She softened. And he barreled forward.

“I didn’t know what to think! I was actually coming over to talk to you about it when I saw you so... umm... friendly with Chat Noir. And I just… I haven’t seen you that open and happy in awhile. So I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done something wrong?”

He was wringing his hands. He didn’t even realize how much he was hurting himself until she took both his hands in hers and rubbed soothing circles with her thumbs onto the back of his hands.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she murmured, her eyes staring straight at him. “I’m sorry. I have been distracted, but it wasn’t anything to do with us. It’s just a bunch of Marinette stuff. And… she didn’t want me to talk about it with anyone, and it’s all driving me crazy, so I just… am having a hard time being completely there the rest of the time.”

“But… you looked so happy when… Chat Noir was there.”

“Nino! He’s a superhero! And I run a superhero themed blog! I get a little fan girly, it’s true.”

She pulled him into a hug. And he melted into her arms.

“The truth is,” she murmured into his ear, “I feel like I don’t have to pretend around you. I didn’t mean to push you away or out. I was feeling overwhelmed and crazy and around you, I thought I could just be low and it would still be okay.”

His arms tightened around her. His eyes were burning with threatened years. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Doubted us. I want to be able to be a place where you can be less than one hundred percent and still feel loved and supported. I’m sorry I didn’t live up to that.” And he was horrified that his voice cracked on his last word.

She pulled away just a bit, and pressed her forehead to his. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty. I told you that because I love you. And next time I’m feeling detached, I will try to tell you so you don’t have to worry or wonder.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, letting the last of his hurt roll off his shoulders. “I love you so much.”

She smiled, and kissed him again. “I love you, too.”

They hugged, and Nino just let himself stay wrapped up in her familiar embrace.

At least until she pulled away with furrowed eyebrows. “Chat Noir was here like… hours ago. I only didn’t call you immediately because I had to watch the twins. Have you been stewing in this that whole time?”

Heat bloomed across his face, and he wanted to duck his head behind his hat, but this was Alya. He didn’t want to hide from her. “Yeah… I was really upset,” he admitted. “I assumed the worst, and kinda wanted to track down Chat Noir and start a fight!”

“Nino!”

He held up his hands. “I know. I know. But Adrien called me at like the perfect time, and he kinda talked me down. He was insistent that you loved me and that you would never cheat on me.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” she said, smiling.

“You and me both,” he said. Then started fidgeting with the brim of his hat. “So… ummm… am I out of line if I ask what you and Chat Noir were talking about?”

“I was going to tell you anyway! Before you freaked out on me! But yes, if you must know, we were talking about you!”

Nino blinked for a minute. “What? Me?”

“He was worried about you.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. Chat Noir was worried about him? And here Nino had been thinking the worst of the superhero. “But why?”

Alya reached out for his hand, and their fingers were quickly threaded together. “He was worried at how much Hawkmoth has been targeting you, that he has been impersonating you. He thought that maybe it might happen again, and he was worried about how it might be affecting you mentally.. He suggested I get you to come up with some call and response passwords with the people in your life, so you could protect yourself and your loved ones.”

Nino’s eyes could not get wider. “Really?” How had he completely misjudged the whole situation that badly. Chat Noir wasn’t trying to steal his girl at all - the hero was trying to look out for him and her by extension. Instead, the hero was like, reading his mind, and coming up with ways for Nino to address his fears head on.

“Really,” Alya said.

“Why did he go to you instead of me?” he asked. He felt so sheepish and embarrassed, and a tad bit guilty.

She shrugged. “Honestly, I think it’s just because he knew where I lived.”

Nino laughed, and pulled her to him once again. His head rested on her shoulder. “Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you,” she said, her tone smiling even if he couldn’t see her face.

“How much?”

“More than a superhero.”

He grinned. “That should be our call and response code.”

She rolled her eyes. “If it makes you feel better.”

“But only if I ask you to tell me you love me, or vice versa. We don’t want other people to overhear it.”

She nodded sagely in agreement. “Sounds good.”

“I’m sorry I was an idiot.” “You’re my idiot.”

And she lifted his head, and then she was kissing him.

He smiled against her lips, his hands snaking around her waist.

He really was a lucky guy.

…

Chat Noir sat across on a rooftop across the street from Nino’s empty bedroom. His legs were kicking back and forth in a way that would have seemed playful to anyone that didn’t know him well, but actually was a sign of how anxious he felt.

He breathed in a deep sigh of relief when Nino returned to the room with a huge grin plastered on his face. As soon as Nino had closed his bedroom door, Chat launched himself across the street and into the room, landing with his trademark thud.

Nino looked up at him in surprise. “Ch-Chat Noir! Uh… hey!”

“Hi Nino,” Adrien said, his voice subdued.

It was silent, and Adrien didn’t know what he was waiting for. He had come here with the intention of clearing the air. He hadn’t even transformed with the snake. He wanted to come clean. He spun the ring around his finger. This would be it. Nino was going to know who he was, and he wouldn’t be able to take it back. And he didn’t even know why he was nervous. He had told Nino dozens of times at this point, and his reaction had always been rock solid.

Well, except for the last time.

Maybe that was the problem.

“So… uh… Alya, didn’t seem to think you knew where I lived. I’ll have to tell her that she was mistaken,” Nino said.

Adrien nodded. “I may have led her to that conclusion. If it’s all the same to you, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t rat me out.”

Nino frowned. “Is there a reason you don’t want her to know?”

“There is actually, but I can’t explain it yet. Maybe later?”

“You’re being awfully cryptic tonight, dude.”

Chat rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m just a bit nervous.”

Nino stared at him, his eyes blinking in shock. “You’re nervous? Why?!”

“You seemed pretty pissed at me earlier today.”

Nino frowned. “How do you even know about that?”

Chat’s gaze dropped again. “I may have cheated?”

“Huh?”

“I’m wearing the snake miraculous.”

“That’s the one that creates a time loop?”

Chat Noir nodded.

Nino eyed him up and down. “You don’t look any different than normal.”

“I haven’t activated it yet, but I’ve been using it to, well, cope, I guess would be the best word.” Chat Noir trailed off.

“Cope? Cope with being a superhero?” Nino guessed.

“Yeah, it allows me to confide in someone without anyone remembering. And honestly, you’ve been really supportive the last few weeks. You have no idea.”

Nino’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What? But I don’t…”

“Remember? Yeah, I know you don’t. That’s what I’m saying.”

“But you’re not transformed now, so that means I’m going to remember this conversation.”

Chat nodded.

“So, what’s different about today that I get to remember?”

“I just… the last visit made me realize that I wanted you to know this was happening. I want you to remember giving me permission to do this.”

“I’ve given you permission to do this before?”

Chat nodded again. “I realize the why might not make sense to you, but you did.”

“Why me?”

Chat Noir looked up with a small smile. “What? Don’t think you’re good enough?”

“That’s not what I meant! It’s not everyday that you learn that you are the secret confidant of one of Paris’s superheroes and don’t even know it!”

“Because you’re definitely good enough! You saved me from being akumatized like I don’t know how many times.”

Nino frowned. “We’re not like having a secret affair or something are we?”

Chat laughed. “Umm… no, but you know, I’m beginning to think you have a crush on me.”

Nino blushed. “It’s a celebrity crush!” he defended. “Leave me alone! I didn’t know that we knew each other outside of akumas that well.”

“Well, I’d like to explain everything to you if that’s okay. Clear the air so to speak.”

“On a timer? Or without?”

Chat took in a deep breath. “You choose.”

“What do you want?”

“I really want you to remember this time, but it might be dangerous.”

“Dude! As you totally already know, I’m already a target of Hawkmoth.”

“Which is probably a reason I shouldn’t let you remember this. Which is part of the reason you let me erase your memory over and over again.”

Nino frowned. “How often have we uh… done this?”

Chat Noir winced. “Ummm… I don’t know?”

“Shit dude. That’s…” Nino looked away. “Answer one question for me without giving away the thing you’re worried about?”

“Anything.”

“Why did I agree to it the first time?”

Adrien thought about it for a moment. What could he say?

“You saw me have a breakdown where I was likely to be akumatized. I needed to talk to someone, but it wasn’t safe for me to talk about any of it without literally risking the world. You told me not to leave this room until I was okay.”

“And would you be risking the world by telling me now?”

Chat gripped the back of his neck. “Ummm… I don’t think so?”

“Dude! That’s not reassuring.”

Chat’s claws tore through his hair. “Yeah… you’re right. We can do it the other way. I’ll transform and set the timer, and explain everything. Then with context, you can make an informed decision about whether you want to remember or not. But either way, now you’ll at least remember that this is something that happens on the regular. You won’t bite my head off or assume that I’m trying to steal your girl when I’m talking to her.”

“Thank you for that by the way.” Nino’s voice is small. And embarrassed.

“For what?”

“Talking to my girl? Apparently you were worried about me?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m sorry,” Nino said. “For assuming the worst.”

Chat Noir shook his head. “It’s fine.” He wasn’t sure if it was, but he understood now why Nino had reacted the way he had. “I’m used to far worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, dude,” Nino told him, his eyes staring at him with a concern that Adrien was far too familiar with.

He pasted on a bright smile. “Well, let’s get this show going, yeah?”

“Sure,” Nino said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “What do I need to do?”

Chat grinned. “Don’t worry about it, man. I got it covered. Sass, Plagg, unify!”

Nino put a hand over his eyes to block out the light. “Woah, dude. That’s quite the light show.”

Snake Noir laughed. “Second chance.”

“Alright mec, lay it on me,” Nino said.

Snake Noir took in a deep breath, and then looked right at Nino. “I’m Adrien.”

Nino paled. “What?”

“I’m Adrien,” he said again.

Nino’s eyes were as wide as the Seine. “Dude! You came here earlier when I was pissed at Chat Noir?”

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me I didn’t hit you,” Nino said, his eyes never leaving Adrien’s masked face.

Adrien frowned. “You didn’t hit me. Were you worried that you might’ve?”

“With where my head was at? I definitely wanted to punch you. Chat Noir, you, I mean.” Nino cringed. “I guess… that’s not much better.”

Adrien tried to smile, but didn’t pull it off. “Your… umm… hostility toward me was a bit of a shock,” Adrien conceded.

Nino snorted.

“I just… I think I had gotten used to your… easy acceptance. I realize that I took it for granted.”

“Dude! Stop! I was definitely in the wrong this time. And I’m sorry.”

Adrien smiled. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“This is how you knew to call me?”

Adrien nodded.

“I’m so sorry! I never meant to lay into you about… well, you! I just kept thinking about things being off with Alya, and obsessing over how I was supposed to compete with a superhero.”

Snake Noir bumped Nino’s shoulder. “But Nino, you are a superhero, too.” And then his head hung. “And we all have doubts.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “The whole reason Ladybug gave me the snake was so that I could confide in her, but I haven’t really done that. I keep using it to talk to you.”

“Why can’t you talk to Ladybug.”

“I can! And I can’t. So much of what I want to say is about her and that just makes it awkward. And every time I tell her who I am she starts crying.”

Nino’s brow furrowed. “She has better not be disappointed!”

Chat shook his head. “No! I don’t think so. I think she’s sad that she has to forget.”

“Why exactly does she have to forget?” Nino asked.

“Us knowing each other’s identities apparently led to the end of the world.” It was getting easier to say.

Nino starred at him flatly. “What. What do you mean, end of the world?”

Chat threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know! I didn’t see it. She did! But apparently, I was akumatized and had the power of unlimited destruction, and blew up not just the earth, but the moon as well!”

And yeah, maybe it was getting easier to say, but Adrien was shaking in agitation.

Nino considered him for several seconds before finding his voice. “Dude. That is… heavy.”

Snake Noir slumped down on the floor. “You’re telling me.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come here,” Nino finally said. “I cannot imagine going through this alone.”

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” Adrien admitted.

Nino pulled him into a sideways hug. “You don’t have to. That’s what friends are for.”

“Little did I know, you taking pity on me for having Chloé as my only friend was one of the luckiest days of my life.”

“Ha! I’m glad you have more options now.”

Adrien smiled. “So, what do you say? Is this something you want to remember?”

Nino nodded. “If you want me to know, I want to know.”

“Even if it puts you in more danger?”

“Dude! Do you think it’s possible for me to be in more danger at this point?”

“Nino, I destroyed the world. Not Hawkmoth.”

Nino frowned. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. You said you were akumatized. That’s all on Hawkmoth.”

“I doubt Hawkmoth’s goal was to destroy the world,” Adrien said softly.

“Which just means, you must have broken from his control or something.”

“To destroy the world?” Adrien asked sarcastically.

Nino placed a hand on either of Adrien’s shoulders. “Dude, look at me.”

Adrien looked up.

“I’m not going to lie. Seeing you transformed as Snake whatever with Adrien’s brooding face is majorly trippy.”

Adrien laughed. “Sass, scales rest. Plagg, claws in.” And in a burst of light, he was just Adrien sitting on his best friend’s bed.

“You were saying?” Adrien prompted when Nino continued to just stare at him in shock.

Nino seemed to shake himself lose. “Right! I’m saying this once and I will say it as many times as you need to hear it. You don’t really know what happened in that timeline. Like you said, you didn’t see it. And, you haven’t destroyed the world. Just look outside, you can see it!”

Adrien opened his mouth to argue, but Nino silenced him with a waggling finger. “No, dude! I know what you’re thinking, but I know you. You would never destroy the world if you were in control of yourself. You are too good. Too pure for this world. And you’re fucking Chat Noir! You literally throw yourself into death’s jaws like every week to protect everyone. I will not let you feel guilty for all of time for something you haven’t even done.”

Adrien watched Nino through his monologue, unable to help the smile that stretched across his face. “Are you done?”

“That depends. Are you still beating yourself up?”

Adrien smirked. “I’m feeling better at the moment actually, but I don’t promise I never will again.”

“Well, you just have to promise to come back whenever you’re feeling that way.”

Adrien offered an open hand at chest level, and Nino clapped his own hand into it, and they pulled each other into a hug. “Deal, as long as you promise to talk to your girlfriend whenever you’re having doubts.”

“What? I can’t talk to you about my girlfriend?”

“I mean, you can! You can talk to me about anything.”

“Oh my god! You’re Chat Noir!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“And I’m Carapace.”

“Yeah, you gave that away in like my second loop.”

“We can literally talk about anything,” Nino concluded.

Adrien smiled again. “I guess we can now. I hope you don’t come to regret that.”

“Dude!” Nino squealed. “This is going to be so cool!”

…

Chapter 4: A Thank You

#Adrino friendship #DJWiFi #Miraculous Ladybug Fan fic #Adrien Agreste #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Cesaire #angst #friendship #make up #hurt comfort #there's actually no time loop in this one #snake miraculous #The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir #Identity Reveal #A Miraculous Reveal #ml spoilers #ml s4 #My Own Content

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wehavethoughts · 4 years ago

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The Old Guard Review!

The Old Guard

dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood (2020)

Skydance Media, Denver and Delilah Productions, Marc Evans Productions

Science Fiction, Action, Superhero Movie

Rating: 4/5 Waves

Summary: An elite group of immortal fighters utilize their gifts to keep humanity safe. They want to remain in the shadows and fade into legend, but in the modern world everyone leaves a footprint and an immortal can only stay hidden so long. Between being hunted by the powers that be and trying to stay sane after living for so long, this group of immortals must also cope with the appearance of a brand new immortal; the first in two hundred years.

Content warnings: Violence, Death, Body Horror, Suicide Idealization

This review CONTAINS spoilers for The Old Guard.

I love media about immortals: immortals in love, immortals in hate, immortals who think they are blessed, cursed, chosen, or anything in between. The Old Guard delivered in all the ways I expected, but there were a few fun twists and turns I appreciated as a fan of immortals. One thing that I loved about The Old Guard is that the immortal characters have no idea why they are immortal. There is no god that has blessed them. There wasn’t some incredible pseudoscience that supercharged them, and there was no mythical contagion like we see for vampires and werewolves. In The Old Guard, sometimes people can’t die and they have no idea why. Personally, I find that both hilarious and compelling. What do you mean you don’t know why you’re immortal? At first, I was a little skeptical because it seemed like lazy world building, but as the story progressed it was clear that the ‘why’ of immortality was irrelevant. The question of this story is not ‘why am I immortal?’ it is ‘what am I going to do with my immortality?’, which is a fantastic question that I loved watching them explore.

This show also did a great job of keeping the tension and the stakes high throughout the story. One problem that can come up in media about immortals is that if they are invincible or can heal from anything then there is no real risk in the story. The Old Guard combats this problem by having this world’s immortality be temporary. In The Old Guard the immortal characters can be killed by anything that would kill a normal person, but after a few seconds they start to heal and simply wake up. What keeps the audience guessing is that at some point in these immortal’s lives, their immortality will run out and they will heal and die exactly like a regular person. This uncertainty coupled with not knowing why people are immortal in this world could be frustrating to some viewers so tread carefully, but if you’re like me and don’t mind some unsolved mysteries at the end of your story, you will really like this movie.

Another aspect of this movie I enjoyed was how much detail was put in to convince you these immortal characters had lived an incomprehensibly long time. For example, they all spoke many, many languages. It’s a neat detail because yes if I lived hundreds of years, I too would have learned all the languages my friends know and then a couple more just to keep it spicy. I also loved how the characters had names appropriate to when they were born, but they shortened them to modern names (Andromache of Scythia goes by Andy). But at the end of the day, it was fantastic acting that sold these immortal characters. The way they were portrayed, from the way they walked and talked to the way they interacted with non-immortals, brought home how long these characters had been alive and how much they had seen over the years. It was all in the eyes, and the actors and actresses did a great job.

At its heart, this is an action movie so it’s important to mention the action. I loved that the women were allowed to beat the crap out of men without making it weirdly sexual. The women characters also beat the crap out of each other without making it sexual, which was very refreshing. I can’t say whether or not this can be attributed to the director being a woman, but that is my suspicion. I also appreciated that this movie allowed their immortal characters to use a fun blend of modern and ancient weapons. Guns are fine, but ancient battle axes are so much better.

What I liked least about the action in The Old Guard is that it was often too dark (as in the lighting was poor). There were whole sequences I could not see because they were meant to be happening at night. I want to watch a movie at 3pm on my laptop and I can’t see in the dark. With my screen brightness at maximum, there were several scenes that were trying to show a dark room or a midnight fight, but all I could see was a black screen. I could understand if this had come out in theaters and was meant to be viewed on the big screen, but The Old Guard is a Netflix Original.

There were also a few tropes in this movie that I am not a fan of. I use the word ‘tropes’ loosely here meaning something I’ve seen often in media; and there are a couple in The Old Guard that I never want to see again. The ones in this movie include: the not-self-aware-immoral-scientist trope, the we-used-to-have-POCs-in-our-group-but-they-died-off-screen trope, and the let’s-kill-a-bunch-of-brown-people-for-exposition trope.

First of all, I’m tired of scientists who want to be evil, but hid behind the “it’s for the good of humanity” spiel. As a scientist, I know that if you got a degree you also took ethics training. You might not have liked it, you might have thought that was ‘limiting your potential,’ but we all know the rules and we are all smart enough to know where the line is. I’m not saying that there shouldn’t be immoral scientists in media. I’m saying that it is not believable for a scientist to think that the world will be behind them when they unveil a new product or research that has so clearly been done in an unethical manner. You are not getting a Nobel Prize for your torture research, Karen. It’s not going to happen and you know that. You can’t even discuss your methods, Karen. How do you think you are going to get published?

Second of all, I personally hated when they revealed that a group of immortals was super diverse a thousand years ago. It’s good that there was a lot of diversity in the original group of protagonists, but the only one that survived was the white woman and all the other immortals since have been light-skinned dudes. I’m tired of being told that almost all the diversity died off. It feels like the person writing the story wanted points for including diverse people without having to write a diverse story. It’s the same emotion as when Thanos snapped the majority of the POC out of the MCU. I’m exhausted.

Lastly, if a story needs to quickly paint their protagonists as hyper competent fighters, a common opening scene is having the group kill their way through a horde of evil henchmen. The problem I have is when this opening scene happens in some far off land that the story never returns to and the people the protagonists murder their way through are all black or brown while the protagonists are all light skinned. To me it's disrespectful to have the majority of a story to happen in the US or the UK and only travel to a Middle Eastern or African nation to kill a bunch of people who don’t look like the protagonists.

That being said, the diversity of the main cast by the end of the movie was actually above average as far as popular superhero movies go. In the beginning, there were mostly light-skinned dudes and the new immortal is the main source of diversity, but by the end the group of protagonists is one of the most diverse teams we have right now with multiple women, multiple non-straight characters and multiple people of color.

Other things that stood out about this movie were the soundtrack and the message of the story. A good score is critical for a good movie and The Old Guard delivers with music that kept me grounded in the story and seemed to enhance every emotion throughout the story. The Old Guard also ended up extremely wholesome for an R rated movie. The story’s themes revolve around family, purpose and acceptance and the characters are all the more compelling because of it.

Overall, I had a great time watching this movie and I highly recommend it for fans of action, immortals and/or wholesome media. The Old Guard is a fun ride with fabulous characters that will leave you energized and inspired!

~TideMod

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linkspooky · 5 years ago

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Medaka Box top 2-5 because number 1 is obvious

I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE MY FAVES. IF YOU EVER ASK WANT TO ASK ME WHO MY FAVES ARE FOR A SERIES FEEL FREE TO SEND ME AN ASK.

1. My love was Real - Kumagawa Misogi

No, shush I’m going to talk about Kumagawa Misogi. The only time he gets a chance to be number one is in popularity polls and my faves lists.

My favorite thing about Medaka Box out of all of Nisioisin’s works is that the weirdoes are not just weirdoes who are accepted as weirdoes, but they’re also challenged to grow more human.

What I really like about Kumagawa is that he gets his ass kicked constantly. You come to understand just how he developed his broken method of coping and seeing the world, but it’s also something he ultimately has to let go of. The story never lets him win and challenges him to grow. Which is why you end up rooting for Kumagawa because it’s far more interesting seeing him fail sometimes than the main characters succeeding.

Kumagawa’s just this insane person who seems to be doing whatever he wants, the embodiment of edgy loser characters, but at the same time he’s eventually revealed to be quite human. He’s grounded in basic human desires, he wants to be happy like everybody else, he wants to have security, to protect his friends. It’s that humanity in the character you get attached too. He’s a loser, not because he’s a monster, but because he has so many very human flaws. At the end of the day, for all his flashiness he kind of just acts like a regular good for nothing.

Underneath it all I see Kumagawa as a character whose broken in kind of an ordinary way. Nisioisin writes a lot about broken geniuses, people who are insane but also talented to some degree. Kumagawa is just like, an average ordinary guy underneath it all that’s been subjected to a shit ton of trauma and noen fo that trauma really made him better as a person and he doesn’t have some kind of special talent to balance it out. Normal people, ugly people, worthless people can be broken too, there’s no such thing as suffering beautifully. And yet, Kumagawa’s still trying to be a person, he’s trying to struggle and do better even though he’s not someone who would ever be the main character of the story. Which is why I think he’s grounded in something really relatable.

2. I don’t care what fictional characters call me - Ajimu Najimi

Ajimu’s great because she’s literally the most talented, all knowing character in the manga, but in the end she’s just as shitty as Kumagawa. Often I end up liking these two as a pair because they’re just so integral to each other’s character arcs.

Ajimu is a shitty person. You get all these reasons like she’s actually seven million terminals, or that she’s trillions of years old, but beyond that she clearly has a personality, and that personality is bad. She just doesn’t really care about anybody besides herself. She drags along other people with her whims.

She’s a mastermind but at the same time she’s kind of just a petty child. For all of her grandiose reasons for manipulating people along, it’s more that Ajimu doesn’t really want to live as a person. There are characters that Nisioisin made up that are like, actually not meant to be human but some incomprehensible entity. Like, the story goes out of its way to say that Yodzuru isn’t human. In Monogatari, oddities and aberrations are not meant to be human, they’re meant to be inhuman and different. But Ajimu always struck me as a character written to be human underneath it all. Her constant announcing of “I’m a non-human” is just kind of her running away that psychologically, she’s still pretty much a human despite her weird origin story.

Which is why my favorite part about her is how little she actually knows about being a human. She understands people like they’re toys to move around in her toybox, or roles in a script but you get the sense she doesn’t get them as like, thinking, feeling entities separate from herself. She doesn’t really understand love, or friendship or anything like that, and she doesn’t want to bother to learn anyway because she already knows everything. Ajimu literally has the script handed to her, and yet like Medaka says, she doesn’t know anything. She has to start all the way from the beginning.

3. So let’s get married! Marry me, Marry me, Marry me! - Emukae Mukae

I used to hate Yanderes until I met Emukae. One of the differences I noticed is that Emukae is definitely not written to be anybody’s fantasy. She’s her own character all throughout. Which is what i disliked about most yanderes to begin wtih, they were always obsessed with some dude, but like never as a flaw or a character arc it was supposed to be appealing and not ugly.

Emukae is very ugly when she’s introduced, and we get to see her just like Kumagawa work her way back into being a human being again. The reason she has to let go of her romantic feelings is because she was using them to entirely define who she was, which is why her personality appears so shallow at first.

By the end of the manga Emukae is probably the character besides Kumagawa who has changed and developed the most, and another thing is that she does this without really abandoning parts of her presonality. Emukae is still a minus towards the end, she’s still manic at times, she just doesn’t use love as a substitute for everything anymore because she’s learned to grow an identity outside of that. She’s kind of growing into her own person over the course of the manga instead of attaching herself to either Kumagawa or Zenkichi to define who she was.

4. I’ll become the main character - Zenkichi Hitoyoshi

Zenkichi is a send up to classic shonen protags and a subversion of them at the same time. He’s the guy who never gives up, who always makes friends, and who tries to earn everything with training, effort, and hard work. I admit a lot I like about Zenkichi is his foiling with Kumagawa (Kumagawa existing as his shadow, Zenkichi’s hard work is always rewarded, and Kumagawa’s is never rewarded).

However, there is something unique about the character himself. That is, getting stronger never actually gets Zenkichi what he wants. Despite being the main male lead, he almost never technically wins any fights. He wins against Munakata at the beginning but that’s about it. He’s actually usually the weakest character in the group and surrounded by super strong women.

What’s interesting about Zenkichi as a protag is that his arc isn’t about gaining strength, but actually letting go of the idea of gaining strength. He wins against Medaka in the end not by beating her in a fight, but because he’s better at making connections with other people than she is. He finds his place eventually in learning to make connections with others rather than building his entire life around protecting Medaka.

5. I’ll kill you - Munakata Kei

Munakata is fun, because he’s an interesting character concept. Every time he looks at a person he wants to kill them. Unlike Hitoshiki Zerozaki, rather than choosing to give into this urge he’s actually spent his whole life fighting against it. Which is what makes him unique, he’s basically every other serial killer that Nisioisin has ever written (a serial killer, but they’re lonely) but this time he hasn’t actually killed anybody.

Which under the surface makes him feel like much more of a normal dude. He’s actually a very human person who just happened to be born with a weird obsession with killing people. I guess one thing that makes me like this character so much is I’ve seen similiar attempts to make this character work with the same concept, but they all come off as unrelatable and weird.

Munakata is a fully fleshed out character. He wants to have friends, wants to fight for those friends. He sometimes get self righteous. He’s serious and straight laced. He’s overprotective of those friends. He just also happens to be constantly seeking out a reason to kill someone. Munakata is even mentioned to have a bad attitude on purpose. His showdown with Kumagawa is also one of my favorite scenes in the manga, with the two of them fighting with their contrasting philosophies.

It feels like the fact that he wants to murder every single person he meets is just an asterisk on his character, instead of having his entire character built around that fact. Which is fun. He’s actively resisting becoming the murderer who kills people for no reason because they’re obsessed with killing people trope, and it gives him a satisfactory arc over the story. Also, once again how normal he is is just fun, the second he did finally kill someone his first response was to just walk to the police station. What a dude.

#kaibutsushidousha #medaka box #spooky speaks #kumagawa misogi #ajimu najimi #hitoyoshi zenkichi #emukae mukae #munakata kei

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demaury · 5 years ago

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Game On – High School AU | Enemies-to-friends-to-lovers AU (chap.4)

Ten years after his father shipped him off to boarding school, Jude is back to Los Angeles for his senior year. As it turns out, relinking with his childhood friend isn’t nearly as hard as it is to deal with his almost estranged father. Zero is the typical high school heartthrob and a basketball prodigy on the way to make a name for himself. Everything should be easy, but years in foster care and physical abuse don’t make for the smoothest reunion with former teen-mom and her perfect family.

Really. They have a lot on their plate already.

Falling in love was not supposed to be an option. (read on ao3)

_________

“You look like trash for someone who doesn’t drink,” Kyle groaned, squinting hard.

“Good morning to you too,” Zero replied sarcastically as he strolled into the small kitchen, before sitting down at the table, his back against the wall.

Kyle’s hair was sticking up in every possible direction and he could already tell that she’d go back to sleep as soon as he’d leave. Her resistance to alcohol wasn’t very on point, but she kept claiming it was because her body would ‘react differently' depending on the day.

“Pancakes?”

He shrugged and accepted the plate that she was holding in his direction, then she sat down next to him after grabbing two cups of hot chocolate and a second plate for her. A regular Sunday morning, mostly. Kyle’s mom was generally working on weekends ever since her daughters were old enough to stay home on their own. The fact that their house was on Zero’s way to his part-time job prompted him to swing by most weeks to hang out with Kyle, before taking his shift at the mechanic shop located down the street.

“So, what’s with the long face?” Kyle asked, quirking a brow.

“’Didn’t sleep very well,” he muttered, bleary eyes fixated on his plate.

Joke was on him because he had actually left the party reasonably early precisely to avoid being tired as hell the next morning. Thing was, he had spent most of the night before replaying the conversation he had back at Xander’s with Sadie. Yes, after exactly two weeks of refusing to talk to her or even to see her, Zero had let himself be cornered by his not-very-ex-girlfriend the night before — he was too busy trying to smash Abramson’s head in during Homecoming to say the three magic words (WE-ARE-OVER). Surely it had given Sadie hope that there was still something to fix between them, and now Zero didn’t know what to think anymore.

Kyle hummed in response around a mouthful of pancake.

“You talked with Sadie last night,” she observed, nonchalantly adding some maple syrup on her breakfast, as if she had been able to follow his train of thought.

If he didn’t know her so well, it could have sounded like she didn’t really care. What a mistake that would have been. “We were just talking.”

“I should have dragged you away,” she added grumpily. “What did she say?”

Zero pursed his lips a little, staring at his pancakes. He was trying to decipher if being honest was the best call or not when it came to his best friend, especially whenever Sadie was involved. “She said she was sorry,” he said vaguely. “That… er, that she felt lonely because I was always busy.”

“So that excuses cheating?” Kyle scoffed. “What is she, some bored housewife?”

“Maybe not, but it’s true that I didn’t see her a lot last summer,” Zero admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Between his job and those weeks of basketball summer camp, plus the moments he had to work out, those three months had been pretty busy, and looking back, maybe he should have tried more. But he was often annoyed by her sending him ten texts in a row, or whenever she’d be mad at him because he wasn’t answering fast enough, so sometimes it’s true he had delayed answering on purpose.

Kyle groaned and bitterly turned a pancake to shreds on her plate. “You know what’s wrong with this? You don’t give a damn about the girl on your arm as long as there’s someone. It could be literally anyone.”

He glared at her. “Bullshit.”

“Oh really?” Kyle drawled. “How long have you been single since you started dating?”

“That’s beside the point,” Zero countered. “Sadie and I, we get along well.”

“Sure, when she’s not cheating,” Kyle huffed.

Zero dropped his fork in his plate, fuming. “Hart, I fucking swear to God-”

“Okay, fine!” she exclaimed.

Zero glared at her nonetheless.

She didn’t know Sadie the way he knew her.

They had been flirting a bit around the Christmas of their junior year, a few weeks after he had ended things with Ginny Goodyear, about a month into their relationship. They had started texting every now and then during Winter Break, before running into each other while on a morning run later in January. She was hoping to score a scholarship as a varsity member of the Volleyball team, so they had naturally taken to the habit of working out together. Sure, she could be annoying, possessive, and sometimes, frankly, bitchy. Her parents constantly put her on a pedestal regardless of her behavior, and she wouldn’t give a damn that they were literally right next door before going down on him.

But she wasn’t just staring at him with stars in her goddamn eyes. They looked good together according to most (which meant everyone but Kyle), and they had fallen into some kind of comfortable routine together.

Yeah okay, she was also hot. It helped.

Kyle took a deep breath and put her fork down. “I’m worried for you, you big dummy. Cheating isn’t okay. You could have anyone you want, why would you settle for somebody who has hurt you on purpose?” Zero obstinately kept his eyes on the table. “Plus, you can say whatever you want about her, but I’ve never seen someone nearly as self-centered as she is.”

“Really?” Zero eventually asked, unimpressed. “And how would you know that, since you always passed on spending time with me whenever she was around?”

“I didn’t always pass on that,” Kyle retorted.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Kyle sighed and played with her cup of hot chocolate. “I know she never bothered to fight you on not bringing her to your place.”

“Neither did Ginny, or Britt, or any of the others,” Zero replied bluntly. “There’s no reason to pick a fight when I make it plain it’s off the table. That’s called being sensitive.”

Kyle huffed. “You deserve someone who cares enough to pick a fight.”

“And I think,” Zero snapped, “that I deserve someone who respects something called boundaries.”

Kyle grinned at him insolently. “Then I think we both agree on the fact that Sadie is out.”

Zero stared at her, then he rolled his eyes with a loud sigh.

Why was he even trying?

“Does that mean that Kinkade is officially off the market?”

Surprisingly enough, the question emanated from Terrence, as they were making their way down the hallway the following morning. Sunday had come and gone uneventfully for everyone, and the better part of Zero’s afternoon had been spent occasionally hitting the gas pedal of a Range Rover whenever his boss needed him to.

Kyle waved. “I think it was more like a game.” She then looked at Zero. “Not everyone loses their V-card during a 7MH session.”

“Bold of you to assume I was a virgin,” Zero fired back.

Okay, he was, but that was beside the point. And it didn’t change the fact that he lost his virginity much sooner than Roman or Wall. Yes, he was taking pride in those things. Like the day he had finally reached Terrence’s size, AND had outgrown Derek. That had been a thrill.

“Bold of you to assume he is a virgin,” Derek deadpanned. “He probably lost it with a model on a yacht or some crazy shit like that.”

“Dude, we’ve got to find you someone,” Kyle decreed all of a sudden.

“You got to do nothing at all,” Derek retorted sharply.

They headed out to their lockers but Zero had lost interest in the conversation the moment she decided that they couldn’t have Derek be single by the time Zero “breaks another heart” — like what, they had forgotten he was the one who had been cheated on? Zero froze briefly. Think of the devil. Sadie was hanging by her locker on the other side of the large double-doors, looking at him from over her friend’s shoulder. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt, the hem falling down mid-thigh on her skinny-jeans.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Zero startled and glanced at Kyle, who had followed his gaze.

“That one is yours,” she said matter-of-factly as she pointed right to Sadie, or rather her sweatshirt, without even a single care for discretion.

Zero huffed. “Nah it’s not.”

“Sure, she has the habit of wearing stuff that fits her so well that she’s got to roll the sleeves three times to have her hands free,” Derek said, unhelpful to the last degree.

Zero shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “You guys are the fucking worst,” he grumbled, striding to get inside the building.

“She’s trying to get you back with a goddamn sweatshirt,” Kyle sneered, following him inside. “How can you just let her do that?”

“She’s got a point, dude,” Terrence intervened. “Just ask for your stuff back. It’s not like you two are on a break or something, you split up.”

Zero didn’t answer right away, which left enough time for Kyle to voice her disagreement through an incomprehensible mumble and the guys to eye him with disapproval. “I didn’t break-up with her... yet,” he admitted half-heartedly.

“Okay, Zero, bro, hear me out,” Terrence started, automatically falling back into the default big-bro mode that always made Zero roll his eyes. “She’s a cheater. Alright? She cheated. That’s it. Don’t get hung up on her.”

“Says the guy who had Kyle practically break-up with his ex for him,” Zero deadpanned. “I don’t need advice, okay? I just need for everyone to mind their own business,” he mumbled as he took the stairs to the left.

Zero stared at his phone, profoundly annoyed. It wasn’t in his nature to be late, at least not consciously. It wasn’t in his nature to be early either. Generally, his timing was always on point to never be the first one or the last one to show up. It was perfect.

So why, why was that starting to change?

He was waiting on his fucking own at the same table they had used for the past three years, a slice of pizza growing cold in front of him as his appetite seemed to be absent as well. Where the hell was everyone?

“Where’s everyone?” a voice echoed.

Zero’s head snapped up from his phone, only to find Kinkade staring at him with his food tray nonchalantly tucked between his hip and his arm.

“I should ask you, you’re the one sharing classes with them, not me,” Zero groaned.

Okay, he was still pissed about this. How do you explain that he was the only one who hadn’t been sharing more than one class with any of his friends since their sophomore year, and Kinkade suddenly shared a whole bunch of them?

Who was he supposed to fight for this?

Kinkade shrugged, setting his tray on the table. “Jelena’s with her coach. Guess the others are just held up.”

And with that he sat down, like it was no big deal. It’s only been a week and Mr. Kinkade was parading around like he had been there for fucking ever. Couldn’t he at least have the decency to look hesitant? Slightly confused? No, everything was perfectly fine for Mr. Fucking Perfect. God Zero wanted to smash something. Screw the shitty family history. Kinkade had more than enough good shit to compensate. You didn’t just look like a goddamn Disney Prince, with the bank account of one of those dummies featured in the Rich Kids of Beverly Hills, and just expect people to like you.

People couldn’t like him. That couldn’t be a thing.

And yet everyone around him seemed to. The betrayal.

Terrence and Derek liked his occasional comebacks. Jelena, the resident cold-hearted know-it-all, was sharing notes with him. Even Kyle was going on and on about how nice he was. And Raquel. Raquel. She literally didn’t even wait a week before throwing herself at him. Gross… and rude. So what, he missed one date and he was black-listed forever, but Mr. Kinkade just disappeared from the fucking surface of the Earth for ten years without so much as a call every now and then, and it was okay?

And now even Mr. Kinkade was ignoring him. Literally. He was scrolling on his phone like the outside world didn’t exist, especially not someone sitting opposite him, someone living and breathing. Zero stared at him blatantly for a moment, following his small gestures as he typed a text.

“So you’re an item or something?” Zero eventually asked, perhaps harshly but oh well, if Golden Boy couldn’t take it they weren’t made to live on the same goddamn planet.

Kinkade looked up from his phone, and honest to God he looked confused and slightly taken aback. That was a normal reaction, a human one. So he wasn’t an alien after all. “What?”

“Raquel,” Zero snapped back, rolling his eyes. “Lipstick, Xander’s? Ring any bells?”

Kinkade hummed in response and locked his phone before putting it back on the table, screen down. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. We aren’t,” he said with a casual shrug, face perfectly collected all over again.

Zero scoffed. “It is my business because she’s a friend of mine.”

He didn’t really know where that came from though, at best Raquel was a friend of a friend, but to say that she was a friend of his was a little bit much. He shrugged to himself. Whatever.

“So that gives you the right to be nosey?” Kinkade deadpanned.

“I just like to know where everybody stands,” Zero retorted, folding his arms over his chest.

Kinkade glared daggers at him. “Oh, so that’s why you’ve been an ass to me since the beginning? Don’t worry, I’m not aiming to challenge your serial fucker title any time soon.”

“You’re the one who acted like an ass at the beginning!” Zero blurted, now honestly pissed.

Kinkade’s eyebrows shot up. “How so?” he scoffed. “I said, like, three words before you literally walked out, probably to go punch someone because, you know, apparently that’s a thing you do?” Zero opened his mouth and closed it, which took probably the exact three seconds that the asshole allowed him to use before he started speaking again, shaking his head: “If you wanna hate me, fine, I don’t care. Just don’t say it was because of me, because whatever I said that got you all pissy, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Zero stared at him, with a mix of anger and suspicion. He couldn’t quite decipher what he was supposed to say to that. Kinkade couldn’t be nice on top of everything else. He just couldn’t be. “Are you seriously apologizing right now?”

“You know what? Just take it however you want,” Kinkade huffed with another shake of his head.

Zero felt downright bad, which was new for him, actually. Not that he didn’t care about other people’s feelings in general, but people were just so prone to get offended over even the slightest comeback that he was too tired to give a damn the majority of the time. He glanced at his cold pizza, no hungrier than he was before Kinkade even showed up.

“I’m in the middle of a rough patch,” Zero mumbled, not looking up. “Usually somebody calls me out on my shit, so I guess that makes you, like, part of the group now…or something.”

There was a second of silence at the table, and Kinkade snorted. “I’m flattered, really.”

Zero rubbed the back of his neck. Awkward. It was as if he had forgotten how normal conversations with people were supposed to work. He didn’t talk to a lot of people outside of his friends, save for the usual ‘not interested’ that he kept uttering every now and then to desperate-looking freshman girls.

Seconds, then minutes, dragged on without either of them talking, and when Zero spotted Kyle’s blonde head and Derek’s slender outline towering next to her at the end of lunch line on the other side of the cafeteria, he felt a little bit relieved. The rest of the Gang flooded the table not long after that, each of them bickering over various disagreements which had caused them to be so late in the first place. He wasn’t forced to make eye-contact with Kinkade, given that he had slid a spot away to the right and wasn’t sitting right in front of him anymore. Honestly? It was better that way.

“I need your help,” Zero said, easily catching up with Jelena as soon as she exited her last class.

She looked up at him, slightly confused. “For what?” she asked, pursing her full lips. “If it’s about Sadie, I’m out.”

Zero sneered. Damn it, his life didn’t revolve around Sadie fucking Sinclair. But maybe he could use some help in that department too, though — not that it was anybody’s business. No, right now, he had a much, much bigger problem to solve, which he was reminded of when he had spotted his Coach talking with another teacher in the hallway. Robertson had hit him up for updates on the matter of his tutor three times already, and the last time Zero replied that he had found one and everything was under control.

Which, of course, was not.

And now he was screwed.

“It’s not about Sadie,” Zero retorted. “I need help with my grades. I’ve had Geyer on my back since Homecoming and if I don’t find a way to improve them, he could pull me out of the Team.”

Jelena’s pace faltered and the frown on her face deepened. “Why would he do that? If they take you out, the team loses. That’s it.”

That was the easy thing with Jelena. She was a smart cookie, but a smart cookie who didn’t like losing. For all he cared, her feelings for Terrence had seemed genuine since the beginning, but it didn’t mean she was pleased by the prospect of dating the Captain of a losing Basketball Team. Zero kind of counted on that to get her to help save his fucking ass.

“Well, duh, thank you, I didn’t know that,” Zero sarcastically replied. “C’mon, Jel, I need your help.”

“I can’t, I’ve got the squad already. That’s plenty of work as it is, I don’t have any free-time left,” Jelena shrugged, shattering Zero’s hopes of somehow managing to master feminine psychology any time soon. “Why don’t you just ask a tutor? They’re here for a reason, you know.”

He laughed dryly. “I can’t go there.”

“Oh, because you’ve got a reputation? You don’t have a choice, dumbnut.”

Zero glared at her. “I can’t go there because I already looked into it and the only one available these days is Goodyear. As in, Ginny’s brother.”

Jelena turned on the spot, looking at him with a beyond-annoyed expression. She heaved a long sigh, resting her hand on her skinny hip. “Let me tell you something, if you kept your dick in your pants every now and then, these things wouldn’t be happening to you.”

“Like you never broke up with a text,” he scoffed.

“First of all, no, I never have,” she said slowly. “Secondly, you should have probably avoided drooling over Sinclair for over two weeks before you ditched her.... with a text.”

Zero huffed. That wasn’t a good reason for Ginny’s brother to suddenly act like he could rip his fucking skin off. Was he the only one to see that it wasn’t a big deal? Was he the only one who understood that high school wasn’t a place where you were supposed to meet your stupid soulmate? Jeez, how childish could people be? If you couldn’t use the goddamn technology in your daily life, what was the point, seriously?

“Can we go back to the part where I really need your fucking help? Don’t force me to beg.”

“I told you, I can’t. What about Raquel?”

“We aren’t exactly… compatible,” he cringed.

Understatement of the year. The one time they had worked together on a project was during their junior year and he thought she was ready to stab him before the end of their work session, which had ended with Raquel throwing him out of the room to get the work done and Zero politely having a little discussion with her older sister Adriana (no, he hadn’t been hitting on her, he was just that charming with everyone).

“Kyle,” Jelena suddenly said, just as Kyle hovered next to them, “explain to your dummy friend over here that he can’t be picky over the choice of the people willing to help him.”

“What have you done this time?” Kyle deadpanned, tilting her head as she looked up at him.

“I didn’t do anything!” Zero protested. “I need help raising my grades to stay on the team, the only tutor available detests me for fucking his sister, and everybody else is apparently busy for the next three years or so. So no, I’m not being picky!”

Kyle and Jelena shared a look and Kyle simply huffed a long sigh, before turning back with an eye-roll. “Don’t worry it’s gonna be fine. I’ll try to think of someone,” she said, nudging him amicably before walking away, following Jelena close behind.

#hit the floor #zude #jude kinkade #zero #mine #*#*go

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mspaintdisaster · 6 years ago

Text

look at you, strawberry blond

hey............ I don't know how this works but anyways I wrote a kiribaku oneshot and i’m putting it up here too.

I posted this on ao3 too, under the username nerbegg: ao3 link

Rated: T (for cursing)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Bakugou and Kirishima are in the summer of their third year, they go out to pick strawberries at a farm. Bakugou is anxious about their relationship. They talk, feelings happen.

Bakugou could feel the sun blare down on his neck, burning the skin that wasn’t hidden under his hair. He always forgot to put on sunscreen, in general—not used to putting any sort of cream on his skin because of his quirk. Kirishima had been insistent on slathering his face with it when they had met up at his house.

They had gone out to pick strawberries in some local farm. He had come here at the behest of Kirishima, who had asked only once. Bakugou was now avoiding him, crouching down behind a bush of strawberries to keep his body hidden.

He picked the strawberries off, one by one, and slowly dropped them into a small basket that had been given to him at the gate of the farm. He liked the method to the act, examining the strawberries for blemishes, making sure to pull it by its stem, and the careful motion of getting the damned things into the basket unharmed.

He was getting kind of bored with it though. The uniformity had its merits, but Bakugou was growing dead bored.

There was a particular fruit that caught his eye. A small thing—barely the size of the nail of his thumb. He pulled it off the bush and gave it a look over—it was bright red all around. The light of the sun reflected off of it, giving it almost a healthy sort of glow.

He ripped the stem off the strawberry and popped it into his mouth whole.

Someone had once told him, long ago, that the best way to eat a strawberry was backwards. Fat part first, then go down to the tip. It was the part of the strawberry that burst with the most flavor, after all. Sometimes, it was good to do things unconventionally.

“Bakugou! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for like ten minutes, dude.”

Kirishima came into view, a genuine smile gleaming on his face. He had his hair down, he tended to keep it down when they went out alone together. Bakugou would never say it aloud—but he liked it when his hair was down. For one thing, Kirishima didn’t smell like an array of haircare products. He smelled more like his house did—an odd melody of fruit scents that came from all the candles his moms had. But under that he just smelled like all the other boys (and girls, if he was being honest) in their class—sweat and dirt and some odd tinge that Bakugou had always assumed was just what teenagers smelled like.

Bakugou looked down at his basket of fruits and huffed.

“Uh, so,” Kirishima said awkwardly—a bit louder then his usual cadence, “wanna get to some shade? This sun is killing me—ha.”

The sun did seem to be notoriously spikey today. It was midsummer, not quite into summer vacation yet. They were using their day off from school to do this. It had been a slow week, no internship drama, no particularly bombastic classes, no infiltrations, no kidnappings. Just sitting in class and taking notes—and whatever Kirishima did.

Bakugou stood up, making sure to take the basket up with him. He faced Kirishima, who wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said.

It would not be a stretch to say that Bakugou was in a bad mood today. In fact, it was true—he was in a bad mood today.

Well, he was in a bad mood near every day. It was a side effect of being Bakugou—overthinking and overanalyzing everything that happened around you tended to put you on the bad side of the emotional spectrum. But sometimes, Kirishima could help with that.

The problem was, right now, Kirishima was not helping with that. In fact, his presence was doing the exact opposite. Bakugou catalogued his every fidget—every twist of his lips, how he kept cracking his knuckles, the way his eyes looked around at everything but him. And he knew— he knew, he knew, he knew—it was because of him.

They sat together on top of a wooden picnic table, both resting their feet on the bench they were supposed to be sitting on. Their small baskets rested between them, bundled together by a light blue ribbon. Kirishima kept his hands together on his lap, moving his fingers methodically in a distracting sort of way. In contrast, Bakugou had his arms spread out over the table top, leaning against them so that his body was angled back. He was staring up at the near cloudless sky and lamenting the lack of accessible shade.

Kirishima was talking about something, but Bakugou wasn’t listening—and he was sure Kirishima knew. Whatever he was saying, it was more for himself then Bakugou. “I need a fucking hat,” said Bakugou, completely unprovoked.

Kirishima glanced at him and laughed. “I bet the sun is really killing you—that’s what you get for not bothering to put on sunscreen. Now you’re gunna smell like aloe cream for days.”

“Pfft, as if I can’t handle a bit of pain. That aloe shit doesn’t heal anything—no point slathering it on unless you want to lessen the burn,” Bakugou held a hand up and activated his quirk, sending small sparks out of palm, “I’m used to it.”

“You don’t have to be used to it, dude. Sometimes it’s nice to not feel like shit.”

Bakugou shook his head and put his hand back down.

“When is that fucking truck coming though?” Bakugou asked.

Kirishima shrugged. “The sign said the hours were scattered, but they gave approximations. Based on that, it should be here in fifteen minutes.” “My skin’s going to peel off by the time it gets here.”

“That’s your own fault.”

Bakugou hummed. He crossed his arms over his abdomen and leaned forward.

Kirishima tapped his shoulder. Bakugou looked back at him.

“I’m going to head to the, uh, entrance for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

Bakugou didn’t respond. He watched Kirishima get up and walk back to the building they had gotten their basket at in silence. He thought: Man, I’m really fucking up, right?

Kirishima had officially—like for real—confessed to him a month or so ago. They had gone on a few weird pseudo-dates since then, and they had all grown increasingly more uncomfortable then the last. He didn’t reply—he hadn’t said shit. He had kept his mouth shut and nodded—fucking nodded—when Kirishima told him he liked him.

The thing was, he knew. They both had known. Kirishima kept dragging him on dumb little dates and Bakugou went along with them all, unquestioningly. By the time they had gotten into their second year he had not even bothered to be jokingly antagonistic about it. Things were good, things had been good. Why had Kirishima messed it all up by confessing?

But—Kirishima wasn’t in the wrong, was he?

Love wasn’t something Bakugou was comfortable with. His parents were an unconventional mess of tough love and borderline abusive dynamics. He hadn’t formed a single balanced relationship until high school—he had only cultivated friends who praised him and demonized the one kid who ever bothered to see him as some kind of equal. Deku, fucking Deku.

“Honey, look—the truck’s just about here!” said some lady. There had been two other people waiting with them, two women who seemed to be in their late twenties. Bakugou sat up. There was a truck with a few people coming up the dirt road that intersected between the fields. It was the kind that had an open back—no real chairs. Instead it seemed to have bundles of straw as cushions. Bakugou felt itchy just thinking about it. He scratched his neck, regretting it quickly. He flinched at the feeling of his nails dragging over his skin. He was for sure already sunburnt.

“I—I made it—” said Kirishima, out of breath.

Bakugou turned to him. His whole body was heavying. He bent down, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. In one of his hands he had a plain sunhat—the same color of the straw on the back of the truck.

“I got this for you—so you wouldn’t end up messing your skin up anymore. I actually went back to see if they had any extra sunscreen—but they said they had just sold their last bottle. Guess I should have pushed harder to get you to put it on back home.”

“I wouldn’t have done it even if you have been more annoying about it.”

“Figured, that’s why I stopped when I did.”

Kirishima grabbed the bundle of strawberries and dropped the hat on top of Bakugou’s head.

“Mom, that was boring,” said a kid as he jumped off the truck—which Bakugou could have sworn had still been moving. A woman—his mother, presumedly—scrambled after him, tripping over her long maxi dress.

Bakugou sighed.

The women who were waiting with them—who had been sitting on another picnic table, pressed thigh to thigh and leaning their faces into each other, giggling all the while—got up and headed for the back of the truck. Bakugou was still thinking about the straw.

Kirishima grabbed his arm and started to pull him to the truck. Bakugou let himself be dragged. Internally he was going over all the ways to avoid touching the straw, but when he got his first good look at the back of the truck, he realized that was impossible.

He groaned.

The two women leaned against the only proper bale of straw, leaving the rest of the straw filled trunk ripe for the taking. Kirishima jumped up and took a corner. Bakugou followed reluctantly.

The driver got out of their seat and came to raise the door of the trunk. They said something in an incomprehensible language—Bakugou thought, some kind of English dialect? He looked at Kirishima to gauge if he had understood what the driver had said, only to see that he was completely zoned out, staring off at nothing in the distance. “She said to make sure to throw up outside of the car, and that the drive around won’t take more than twenty minutes at most,” said one of the women, “Patricia has a thick accent—she’s from the American south. It takes a while to get used to even if you know the language well.”

Bakugou nodded.

“Patricia and her wife have been running this farm for near thirty years by now,” said the other women. She had large spiral horns on either side of her forehead and was wearing dark circular sunglasses. She adjusted her glasses and continued. “They only just opened up to the public—they wanted to expand their business a bit. I think one of the restaurants they were providing for went out of business, and I suppose the little shop they run up front doesn’t bring in much traffic. They are going to start letting schools tour here—but they are trying to figure out an actual lesson plan to provide kids with to make it worthwhile.”

Internally, Bakugou wondered why she was dumping all this info on him. He didn’t say anything out loud, though. Kirishima seemed to be paying attention to what the horned women was saying.

“How did you two boys find your way here?” said her partner. She was far less remarkable in appearance, though she had odd freckle like spots all over her bare skin. They were just off enough that Bakugou could tell they weren’t actually freckles, but fuck if he could tell what they were supposed to be.

“My moms know the couple that runs the farm,” said Kirishima, “They suggested it when I asked them about where we,” he gestured between him and Bakugou, “should go for our next, um, date—" Kirishima looked at him apologetically.

Bakugou kept his face blank but met Kirishima’s gaze. The women seemed to not notice their exchange.

“That’s nice! It’s good to have verity in a relationship. But you two aren’t old enough to be getting bored of simple date spots. You are both from the city, right? I can tell from your accents. Long train ride? Lots of walking?”

“We took a train, for the most part,” Kirishima said, breaking eye contact with Bakugou, “We walked the rest of the way. It’s a nice area.”

“Where do you two go to school?” asked the horned women.

“We go to UA.”

“Oh! I thought I had recognized you from somewhere! I saw you two competing in the sports festival!” she said.

Her partner cut in with a loud sigh. She leaned her head back so that she was facing the sky and brought her knees to her chest. Dreamily, she said “Remember when you wanted to be a hero, Hana?”

The Hana snorted. “God, yeah, Sometimes I can’t believe how fucking long you’ve known me, Futaba. I was delusional in middle school. These things are useless.” She flicked one of her horns. “I would have to headbutt people for them to be effective in anyway. But man,” she said, leaning closer to Kirishima and Bakugou, “you guys are really doing it—training to be heroes. It’s a real admirable thing to do. When all is said and done, heroes have to give up a lot—people are always talking about how corrupted hero society must be—” Bakugou noted the annoyed look Hana’s partner sent her—“but even the bad eggs have to risk their lives and compromise their social lives. I don’t think I could handle something like that.”

Kirishima laughed weakly. “Yeah, sometimes I don’t think I can either—even with everything I’ve already done”

“Well, what ever may happen, just know we are rooting for you! Plus Ultra!” Hana said, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Both of you,” said Futaba, looking at Bakugou with a placid expression on her face.

By the time they were starting to leave, the sun was going down.

“Eijirou!” called one of the workers that had been managing the shop up front. She was an older woman, at least in her fifties. “Say hi to your moms for me! And tell them to visit!”

Kirishima waved back and yelled “Sure thing!”

“How do your moms know that lady—she seems much older than both of them,” said Bakugou in a passive tone. He had not been speaking much at all though the day, his thoughts lingering on Kirishima’s confession so many weeks ago. He thought—not for the first time that day—that he was starting to cut it close.

Kirishima shrugged. “I think they are part of some gay book club or something. Or like, some online chat? I don’t really know if they are that tech savvy, but I can’t imagine another way they would know people this far out in the country.”

Bakugou hummed in reply. His neck was still irritating him a bit, but it wasn’t as bad as it should have gotten because of the floppy hat Kirishima had given him. The sides of the hat bobbed as he walked, but he didn’t much mind. It was hard to be pissed at anything when he was so deep into his thoughts.

He had to say something about it.

The air was cool—not quite cold, it was nearly summer after all. The sun had been burning his skin so harshly he had not noticed. Now the sun was tamer, setting off in the horizon. It shrouded the flat fields they were walking past with hues of fire—mixes of red and orange that made even the dirt path they were on look like something fantastical.

Bakugou opened his mouth to speak—

“Is there a reason,” asked Kirishima, before any sound had passed through Bakugou’s lips, “that you don’t want to date me?”

Bakugou pursed his lips and looked away from Kirishima. His mind was blank.

“I always figured we had like, a thing going on. And I really like you as a friend—so that’s fine if that’s what you want. But you haven’t even properly rejected me. I get that you aren’t really used to this kind of thing—but you’ve kind of just left me hanging here, dude. I really don’t know what I should be doing.”

“Why should we even get together?”

“What?”

Bakugou slowed his pace and looked forward, staring down the near endless path they were going down. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Pro-heroes—they are like, idols. Their whole lives are dedicated to their work—All Might is old as fuck and he has never had a significant other—”

“Not that we know,” Kirishima cut in.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if we know about it or not. He’s not even married. A lot of pros aren’t—most of the best aren’t. And the others weren’t distracted with something as trivial as a boyfriend when they started their careers.”

“So, you’re saying I’d be a distraction?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I don’t want you to be one, is more like it.”

“You know, there’s plenty of others in our class that are dating—Midoriya and Uraraka? Hello? What’s the big deal with it?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Those two aren’t going to last.” He knew Deku since they were kids, whatever he had with Ochako was nothing special. He could see them drifting further away from their honeymoon phase—soon they would break up.

“You can’t just say that—that wasn’t even my point. What about Yaoyozoru and Jirou? You going to call bullshit on them too?”

“Why are you so obsessed with comparisons?”

“I’m just trying to understand what the problem is!”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Kirishima crossed his arms. Bakugou adjusted the straps on his backpack and picked up his pace. They were almost at the train station now.

“Me,” said Bakugou, talking down to his feet, “I’m the problem.”

Kirishima interjected, “You aren’t a problem.”

Bakugou shook his head, still looking down. In a strained voice he said, “I don’t—I can’t be a good boyfriend. I can’t be your boyfriend. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better—I want you.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Bakugou—look, I don’t get what’s wrong, but you have to know—whatever you think you are, how ever you see yourself—I’m fine with who you are. Us dating isn’t going to change anything.”

“It’s supposed to change everything.”

“I don’t care about what it’s supposed to do. Just –just give me an honest answer.”

“Honestly?” Bakugou asked. “Honestly—I never thought anyone would like me. In fact, I was fucking counting on it. I just wanted to be the number one hero—I didn’t care about anything or anyone else. I don’t want you to be a distraction—you don’t deserve to be one. But I might come to see you as one. And—that scares me.” Kirishima looked at him, but Bakugou didn’t meet his gaze.

They reached the station. It was nearly empty save a few employees that looked like they wished they were anywhere but here. In silence, they both passed through to the waiting area for the train. The next train was supposed to arrive in twenty minutes. It was already dark. If it were not for the dim lights hanging above, they would surely have been enveloped in pure black.

Bakugou leaned against a poll and waited near the edge of the ledge the dropped into the tracks. There was no colored line warning him that he was too close. “You haven’t given me an answer,” said Kirishima. He was standing a few steps behind Bakugou.

“You still want one?” Bakugou sneered.

“Dude, I know you. I know what I’ve signed up for—your stupid hyper focused ambition and all. I don’t think you’re giving me enough credit—I can handle your bullshit. I’ve been handling it.”

He walked forward and stood right besides Bakugou. He looked up to the sky, littered with stars beyond that which they saw in the city.

“I realized, a while ago, that I didn’t want to lose you,” said Kirishima, “I mean—I don’t know what I mean. But—you’re important to me. Whatever happens, what ever you want to be, whatever I become—I want to be there with you. And, we can do that as just friends if you want. I just want you to give me an actual answer. Do you like me back?”

“I feel like I’m in fucking middle school again.”

“Bakugou—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

The both fell silent, but it was not an awkward sort. It was contemplative. Bakugou really did not feel like anything changed—and maybe nothing had.

“I hate moments like these. They remind me that I’m actually human. This sucks.”

Kirishima laughed. “I like that you're human—your manly hero persona is a plus too.”

Bakugou heard a whistle in the distance. He turned to the noise and saw faint lights coming up the tracks.

“Train's here,” Kirishima said.

“It’s about fucking time. Kirishima, the next date we go on better be under some fucking shade.”

“Sure, whatever you say, babe.”

Bakugou stiffened besides Kirishima.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he said, “no fucking pet names.”

Kirishima just laughed.

#kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fanfiction #kiribaku fanfic #bakushima #my wiritng

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blacknovelist · 6 years ago

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K A T S U K I B A K U G O, for the ask thingy please! Thank you!

i love these letter headcanons so much, my dudes

(okay so like, honesty hour it’s been a Solid While since I’ve read BNHA and I haven’t caught up yet but here’s my hot takes as requested.

I think the last I solidly caught up was about, like, the cultural festival? So if something happened later to like, contradict with these, just disregard it and don’t let me know - I’ll catch up and see for myself eventually.)

K: how do you know when you’ve upset them?

See, the thing about Bakugo is - he’s a loud sort, and it’s easy to assume (so very, very, very easy) that he is so in everything he ever does. He screams and hisses and swears and shouts at so many things, it’s his defining trait. The thing is, it’s not his volume that tells you first, if you know what to look for.

Nah, it’s in the look on his face. The way the lines of his cheek n jaw shift and his hands twitch and for a moment he ain’t just glaring and frowning at you or the world but at himself, too. When he realizes he’s upset his first instinct is always to reach inward, somehow - whether bodily or mentally or both, it depends - and study it. Examine it. Look at it. Once he’s got it pinned, then, then he’s gotta look for an outlet - a means to further that understanding if you will. And sometimes maybe also he’ll look to lash out at someone he sees as responsible for his pain, if such a person exists. It’s just, his brain works so fast - Bakugo is a prodigy in his own right, brilliant beneath all that rage - that actually noticing that moment, not passing it off as a fidget or a twitch or anything else it isn’t, is already hard enough as it is.

See like, his shouting, it’s a defense, but it’s also just who he is (be loud, they’ll notice you, attention is good). It’s that half-step pause, when he’s knocked off balance and that unsure look crosses his face as he does, thats when you know.

And then he’ll blast your ears off one way or another, and if you didn’t notice he’ll usually get louder and start cussing you out and you kind of have to notice. Unless you’ve really really upset him - then he goes a little quieter (in the way a car horn is softer than a foghorn) and obliterates you with his words. Bakugo will always know the most efficient way to shut someone down using only his words, you just gotta coax him to it. And when he’s upset, well, no one wants to keep talking to someone who’s made them upset - ending the conversation by returning the favor is just a bonus.

(Of course, I’m registering “upset” as not including or being the same as “anger”, at least at it’s core (bc he’ll progress to being angry abt it eventually), because Bakugo being angry is something we’re all quite familiar with. And of course, this is assuming someone has found the right buttons to push to even make him upset, given the fact that I also believe he just doesn’t care enough to really let what others say get to him.

If anyone’s gonna make Bakugo genuinely upset, I’d bet more money on it being himself - thinking, dreaming, wondering, questioning everything he’s done and is doing and will someday do, probably - than anyone else. But were that not the case, well. Here we are.)

A: what are/were their best subjects in school?

Bakugo is a boy of many talents - you need the best grades to get into UA, after all. I think he probably did best in English, because All Might is known to speak English phrases from time to time. (This is related to the fact that Bakugo is the English teacher in Ageswap)

He likely also is good with chemistry, given his Quirk - he’s gotta understand reactions and gases and which ones are where generally, the interactions of substances and those gasses with his Quirk and also their reactions when exposed to heat/light/etc, what things he can use to fuel explosions or put out fires caused by it, so on.

T: Where are they ticklish?

I don’t particularly imagine Bakugo as a ticklish person? Partially because he wouldn’t let anyone close enough to tickle, but mostly because he just doesn’t strike me like that (and it’s not because I’m not ticklish, because I am unfortunately extremely so). If I had to give a place, I’d say it’s probably somewhere a little strange, like the soles of his feet or the back of his neck or something.

S: How stealthy are they?

At first glance, unbelievably so. Those who know Bakugo know better, of course, but nonetheless. Despite the boisterous and angry manner Bakugo holds himself he is, again, extremely smart. He knows when to be subtle, when to quiet down and, most important in this case, when to lay low and sneak.

I don’t think I’d put him as like, top sneaker of the class, but the boy knows how to creep when he needs to. On a scale where say, Hagakure was 10/10, I’d pin him a solid 6 or 7/10 when he’s actually trying.

U: What’s their voice like?

I’ve always imagined his voice as always having a sort of… edge to it. Not a gritty-sounding emo sort of edge but like,, like he’s always chomping at the bit to end a conversation, I guess. Also, he talks a little quickly when he’s not swearing specifically at someone - not so fast that he’s incomprehensible, but more like what he’s saying is obvious and he can’t understand why you don’t see it that way either. It’s not malicious or on purpose, it’s just how he is.

I: On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do they love themselves?

Mmm. As a kid, a solid 9 or 10 - back then he was too young, just a boy with the entire damn world at his fingertips. He never had reason to believe he was anything less than the absolute best, and that’s fine.

At the start of the series I’d say he, to others, looks like he’s always on the high end of the spectrum (7-10 out of 10), and I’d say back then he probably felt it too. Middle schoolers are the absolute worst, I have no trouble believing he has that much confidence in the beginning.

By the boot camp he’s still putting off solid 7-10 vibes (I think there’s never a time he isn’t putting on that air with the world so just assume he is pls) but I think - with all the hits his self-confidence, what with how different UA is to anything else he’s ever known - he’s sitting at closer to 5’s and 6’s. After Kamino? He drops below 5 and for every moment he thinks about it (about the fight, about All Might, about the hero career that almost ended and the one that actually did) it continues to go down. The thing being, of course, that he doesn’t act it, and a part of me imagines he stays in partial denial (“I feel like this but maybe I don’t”) until about the provisional license. (Though, I don’t think he drops lower than 3)

Idk, maybe it’s just been a while and I’m overthinking it but I get the vibes that Bakugo vaguely acknowledging Izuku in that moment in the exam? It was kinda the moment it clicked in his own brain, an understanding of what Izuku has been given based on what he knows, so to speak, and how different it is from him. I think that’s when he stops denying how low he thinks he’s sunk, which leads to him wanting to get answers, which leads to the fight. Which is such a good moment, holy shit.

I think it’s after that that Bakugo starts working towards building himself back up internally. Needing to take that additional thing to get his license was a blow, but he’s nothing if not determined - he’ll make that comeback, just you wait. He’s a solid and even 6-7 by the cultural festival, and holding strong.

(Again: I haven’t caught up with canon for a very long time, so if canon seems to contradict me or if you’re looking for a look at how he is now, sorry)

B: Do they have any allergies?

Nope. Everyone hates him come allergy season because he’s always cool as a cucumber and the same as he always is.

G: How do they flirt?

man, this is so far out of my jurisdiction

here’s some true facts kids: I don’t generally judge ships and if it’s in character i’ll read almost anything

but i’m also not a shipper, at all. Given the option, I’d sooner throw my entire being into the pit that is “platonic shit” than have to deal with an excess of it.

So like, I’m not here for romance, and I tend to rely on tropes when I am, but Bakugo lands in that hotspot of “would not fulfill those romance tropes on his own of his own volition”.

I guess if I had to say, I think he’d probably extend invitations to let the person he’s interacting with learn more about him in general - hobbies n habits n shit like that. That is to say, he’d absolutely invite someone hiking or to spar or whatever in an attempt to both learn abt the person (how do they react) and to let them learn about him. He’s always struck me as being kind of private, so like, such a leap would probably mean a lot.

That’s as much as I’m getting from this one mate

O: What would it take to break them, inside and out?

We’ve already caught a good damn glimpse of this - you know that breakdown he has with Izuku, when he’s blaming himself for being the end of All Might?

Bakugo thrives on hard work and being the best (or at least, striving for it), and that leaves a number of ways for him to break, it’s just that he’s incredibly resilient as a person so it’s hard to tell.

The frustration of trying his best and still ending a situation with the worst case - a la Kamino but worse - would absolutely destroy him. Can you imagine? Working hard and powering through and doing everything in your damn power to do the right thing, to save yourself so you can save others, to be a hero, only for it to be for literally nothing in the end? The specific scenario I’ve got in mind is a little more long-term; I believe that if something big happened like that and he came out thinking it ended well enough, only for a shoe the size of the USA to drop on his head and disrupt everything he’s worked towards? Rendering nearly all their work for nothing? Revealing that he and everyone else played right into the villains’ hands, essentially making this their own faults?

Well, something would break in just any anyone.

(Alternately, a realization that everything you do is meaningless and a constant reinforcement of “you’ll never be who you want to be” would also do a pretty damn good job)

#BNHA #Boku no hero academia #MHA #My Hero Academia #Bakugo Katsuki #Novelist Answers #Anonymous #Katsuki #long post #BNHA Headcanon #*dabs* i don't know if any of this makes sense cause I started writing it at one in the morningggggg

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writing-in-verse · 6 years ago

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Throne of Glass - Something This Way is Lacking

Have you ever been reading a book series that you really want to like but some nigh incomprehensible Thing™ seems to stop you? Well, as you’re probably guessing from the title, I am having this issue with Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas. Now I want to preface by stating I’ve only read the first four books to completion and the prequal book, I have just started book five and plan to read it and the remain books in the series. I also mean no ill will towards the author I just want to express some thoughts I’ve been having throughout my time with the books.

I guess I’ll start by saying I do like Throne of Glass in many ways, but I also have some grievances that stop from adoring it like other YA series. Let’s start with plot.

The plot is slow, so slow it takes a back seat most of the series. the first book, for instance, has just about enough plot to set up the characters for the next two books, the rest of the narrative is working with the characters (we’ll touch on them later) and developing them. Now, I both like and dislike the approach to plot this series takes; I like it because the pay-off by the end of the third books feels amazing, as it allows for a slow and steady build-up that creates investment that warrants decent pay-off. I dislike because holy gods can the narrative be so boring at times. I love some of these characters, I really do, I find them interesting in their own right and find their plights compelling for a multitude of reasons. However, sometimes I want things to actually move forward and progress faster than they because there is only so many times I can read two characters having the same argument because one of them refuses to see reason. Looking back on the progess makes the slow monotony worthwhile for the most part, but I like to have consistent enjoyment and there are many times where I just want the plot to get going. It’s a good job the characters are great, right? Well... mostly...

Okay, the one thing Maas is really good at is creating complex characters with a LOT of depth to them. Celaena Sardothien for instance is such a complicated character that only really gets unpacked by the end of the third book. It makes reading her story compelling, which is great considering she’s the protagonist, and really carries the narrative, through the first book especially. The problem I have is the incredibly slow plot often transfers over to some characters who are way less interesting and yet carry half of the narrative, meaning it can be such a slog to get through. I’m talking specifically about Manon Blackbeak, who is a complex character in her own right, but isn’t very interesting and it takes so long for her to really become even slightly unique from the other witches I spent my time wanting her sections to be over so I could get back to Celaena’s story.

Of course, Celaena’s character isn’t perfect either and I fear this issue is going to persist as the narrative progresses; and that’s the character’s inability to have purely platonic, straight relationships. So, Celaena has so far hooked up with three characters in the main series (She has only slept with one, but honestly that isn’t the point she can sleep with whoever she likes) and they’ve all been close friends of hers at some point. This isn’t a gripe I have with Celaena as a character, but more as a writing technique; it sets the precendent that you can’t have close friendships with the type of person you’re also attracted to, something that is objectively false. Celaena and Rowan are my biggest annoyance for this reason as they had this really interesting co-dependent friendship that granted had not entirely clear boundaries but it worked as a pletonic relationship with Rowan being Celaena’s protector. So when Rowan comes back half way through the fourth book and suddenly he wants to screw the woman he is blood bonded to, it’s liuke tonal whiplash that still annoys me. Why can’t they stay friends? I know you could point to Dorian nad state ‘there’s a platonic relationship between Celaena and another many’ but they already had something that just didn’t work, and while I appreciate showing a relationship cvan survive that kind of change, it still gives the impression of the attraction being what matters, and their friendship being where they settle.

This doesn’t even touch on the idea that every main character is straight. Now, as a straight dude myself I’m definitely not the best to talk in depth about representation, but come on I thought we were past having every single main character be straight while you have one gay relationship barely focused on three books in, and have a second one mentioned in the fourth book with it being instantly pointed out one of them has been dead for ten years. Besides the, hopefully, obvious importance for representation it’s also just way more interesting to have none-straight characters, as their experiences are going to be very different making for more interesting character interactions and plot moments. Not to mention I want to see how the world would accomodate these characters and even simpler it gives the author more to work with. Again, I am not the person to be going to for representation advice, but I feel like I can say that not even doing the bare minimum is pretty shoddy. Not to mention I shouldn’t have to wait until the third book for these themes to be even slightly looked at. In terms of race,it does seem to be better, with a character’s race not overly being mentioned unless relevant and people from the many fantasy nations being included. However, again I’m not one to provide much of a verdict here, but it didn’t feel awful which is always a positive.

In any case, I’ve had these thoughts running around my head for Throne of Glass for the last few months, and as much as I like the books there’s a lot holding it back. Especially when it is in the YA space, where there is so much more inclusive writing, this stands out as being so behind the times. Not to mention the slow plot that, while it certainly has its advantages, is not for everyone and can be leborious at times.

Well this was a long one.

#sarah j maas #Throne of Glass

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mareebrittenford · 6 years ago

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The Extra Fakes- Shadow Mirrors Chapter 2

I’ve decided that I’m going to update this every Friday. So here is the 3rd installment (it’s chapter 2 because I broke the first chapter in half). I have made a WIP page, so you can keep track of things there, and I’ll also be posting to Patreon, so any subscribers will get automatic updates when the new post comes out.

As always I appreciate any support for my writing, so please check out my novels #1, #2, patreon and ko-fi!

Also here’s a link to the first part in case you missed it.

Lionel messages me to set up an early morning run, which is a bit surprising, until he shows up with David.

Of course.

I glare at him. Was I really planning on giving this guy the benefit of the doubt? I told him no, and so he went around me to get what he wanted anyway. I briefly consider ditching them both, but that's only going to make me look petty. Instead I decide to experiment on him. That's fair, right?

David is already wearing (rather pretentiously I think) his team shirt. Did he even get a chance to wash it?

"So, you landed him?" I say to Lionel. Perhaps I can ignore David for the whole run.

"We came to terms. Can I go in real quick and use your bathroom?"

I groan. "Use the sucker fan!" I am too closely acquainted with what morning runs do to that boys digestive tract.

Lionel gives me a jaunty wave and heads inside, leaving me and David standing there alone, and me wondering if any of Lionel's 'terms' involved me. He wouldn't do that to me, would he? Besides, I still don't quite know if David was hitting on me or is just really intense about getting a running partner. I haven't figured out how to read him, which is unsettling. Most people are easy to read. Perhaps if I could actually see his face. But he's got that cap on again, pulled down to hide his eyes, even though the sun hasn't even cleared the horizon.

We stand there in awkward silence. The thing that is really annoying me is that before he got all weird and pushy I liked him. Not falling in love with him liked him, but a lets be friends liked him. I'd thought he'd seemed nice. Are my instincts off? I'm not used to that.

"You know the fairy house?" I ask. Demand really.

He looks startled. "The what?"

"Oh, it's this stupid old house that Lyse is obsessed with," Lionel says, joining us, finally. "I guess this means we're going to run a route past it. Where do you normally like to run?" he asks David as we head off down the street.

"I like the river trails, or I head into the hills and trail run." I knew it. He probably uses his runs to scout places to hide the bodies of his murder victims.

"Cross country would probably be your thing then."

"Yeah I guess."

They chatter back and forth, and I drop behind them feeling irritable. I'm completely ignored. They've probably forgotten I’m here. Perhaps I should just take off on my own.

"How many miles do you normally run a week?" Lionel asks.

"Carlyse asked me that yesterday." David glances back at me, as if he knows what I'm thinking and wants to make it clear that he's still aware of me. "I don't keep track. But usually about two hours a day."

"And you don't know your pace either?"

"No, I just run. Sometimes I take it easier, sometimes I push myself, but I don't know how fast I am."

Lionel shakes his head at this. Someone as results orientated as him finds this sort of attitude incomprehensible.

David seems so easy and comfortable I'm starting to wonder if that whole thing he told me about panic attacks and anxiety was fake, a way to gain sympathy. Because apparently I'm ready to believe all sorts of bad stuff about him now.

And then we make the turn onto Orangethorpe. Giddy anticipation starts to build up inside me, knowing how close we are. I don't know when I started looking forward to seeing this house like it's all my Christmases come at once, but that's almost how exciting it feels as I see it coming up.

After the weirdness with Brad I'm curious to see what David thinks of it.

But what I don't expect is for him to stop dead and stare.

"Where the hell did that place come from?"

"I'm guessing it was built in the twenties?" I say, uncertain of what he means. "It looks like that sort of design."

"It wasn't there before."

"It's not fake." I hate fake old stuff. I'm no expert on architecture, but I looked at some of the books Georgia had about local history and houses, and I'm certain this place really is almost a century old.

"Not what I meant. There was a model train store here. I know there was. I've been inside."

He pulls his hat off and fixes me with that intense stare. "What is going on here? What are you guys?"

"Look dude," Lionel says, and pats him on the shoulder.

David jumps in the air like a startled cat and spins, giving Lionel a terrified look, and then takes off down the street.

"Damn. Okay,” Lionel says.

David's fast. And I feel guilty for thinking that maybe he lied about his anxiety issues, because that was a guy in panic.

Lionel starts after him, but I can see that there is no way he's catching up. So I don't bother. I can't imagine that running him down when he's panicked is the best move anyway. He wants to get away from us, not be pursued.

Instead I do something that I've never done before. I walk up the broken concrete path that curves across the lush lawn.

There is no direct access to the house. Instead there’s a wall made of odds and ends, sheets of roofing iron, concrete block, and a whole section of tiny strips of wood all nailed together like some modern art sculpture. The whole thing is overgrown with vines, and in the middle of it is a gate. It's pretty in a faded sort of way. It's made of wood, with an arched top and a diamond shaped peephole insert made of lattice. It was once blue, but all that's left of the peeling paint is on the lattice and in the grooves between the pieces of wood.

There's no handle or latch, only a keyhole. I push on it, but it doesn't give.

My heart is pounding, I'm sure that someone is going to yell at me at any moment, but I can't help myself, I bend and try to peek between the lattice slats. But all I can see is vines. Does this gate even work?

I press my hand against it one more time, and a thrill runs up my arm, and I know that I have to see what's on the other side.

I start looking for a place to climb over. Perhaps those slats of wood can give me a toe hold.

"Lyse?"

I look around and Lionel is standing on the sidewalk staring at me.

I turn back and test my first foothold.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice much closer now.

"What does it look like? I'm going to see what's over there. Maybe I can figure out what scared David."

He grabs my arm and pulls me back, away.

"Are you crazy? You can't just go climbing fences into peoples yards."

I look at him and then back at the wall. "But I really need to see what's over there."

"How about we come back later then? After we find David?"

"He had a panic attack."

"Or something. We should find him."

Once we're back on the sidewalk I shake my head. Was I really about to climb that fence just because? But for a moment there it felt like the most important thing in the world.

But David is frightened. We should try to help him. How did I forget that?

"He really did have a panic attack. He told me that he gets them." I say.

Lionel looks stricken. "We need to find him."

We don't find David.

I worry about him until I catch a glimpse of him later at school. He looks- perhaps not fine- but normal. His hat pulled down over his face, his body language making a stab at invisible, although now I've noticed him he's anything but. He's more like a lurking predator, invisible until he choses not to be. When I try to catch his eye he looks right through me.

It's like that for the rest of the month. He's on the team, but he shows up right before practice and leaves as soon as it's over, so I never get a moment to talk to him. He's always alone on the long runs too, I know he’s varying his pace to keep it that way. I'm getting frustrated with him shutting me out, but Lionel is thrilled. The boy really is as good as he thinks he is. He's pretty decent as a sprinter, although he's not really tall or muscular enough to be excellent. Where his real talent lies is as a distance runner. Out there no one can keep up with him. And he is showing up for practices. He's just avoiding social stuff.

Lionel tells me that he tried to talk to the guy and figure out what spooked him that morning, but he can't get him to give a straight answer about it. He's doing better than me. I can't even get him to look me in the face.

I know he's watching though. I catch glimpses of him around school. Which, okay that's normal. It's not like he's hiding the bushes or peeking in my windows. But I feel his eyes on me at school, like I'm a puzzle he's trying to figure out.

I try to forget about him, put him out of my mind.

But the house won't let me. And I guess my conscience won't either. Somehow the fairy house and David have become entangled in my mind, and I can't stop thinking about either of them, and whether I did something to betray his trust in me.

It doesn't help that I'm starting to wonder if the entire team is playing a practical joke on me. Although it feels more like my sanity being questioned.

Because as I run with different people over the next few weeks I start specifically pointing out the fairy house. Asking casual questions.

Everyone else sees a model train store. Everyone. Except me, Lionel, Georgia, and apparently David.

I'm so spooked and frustrated that on Friday afternoon when Georgia and I pick up Melody from school I make them both walk over to Orangethorpe with me, and the three of us stand in front of the house.

"Okay," I demand. "Tell me, what do you see?"

"You've shown it to me before. It's a cool old house," Georgia says. "Is this the one that you've been saying is haunted or something? Because I could totally believe it."

I heave a massive sigh of relief. Okay. I'm not crazy. I'm being pranked. The team is pranking me.

"Oh! Thomas!" Melody squeals.

I look at her with dread.

"What?"

"Thomas, look see? They have trains like Thomas. But I like Percy better. Maybe they have Percy."

I crouch down next to her.

"Did someone tell you to say that? Was it one of my friends from school?"

She frowns at me in confusion. And then before I can stop her she races away from me, and- disappears.

"Melody!" I scream. And then she just sort of comes back, right in front of me. I grab her hand.

"Georgia, did you see that?"

"Huh? What?" She says. She's staring up at the trees rising over the house's fence with a dreamy look on her face. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What happened?"

All my giddy feels for the house have frozen like ice in my guts.

Before now, it was fun, a little eerie, frustrating too, but fun. Or maybe a crazy prank. But I just saw my sister disappear into a void or something. It's not funny or cool anymore.

I grip Melody's hand more tightly.

"Let's go home."

tagging @pinehutch @focusdumbass @timeenoughforamasterpiece @maximillianvalentine @q-oetry @rosy-writes as always if you’d like to be added or removed from this list please shoot me a message or comment on this post!

#the extra fakes #wip boost #serial urban fantasy #YA #superpowers

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kookie-vith-suga · 7 years ago

Text

The Christmas miracle

Word count: 1992 // I had to make some cuts so it fits into the 2000 mark :D

Warnings: A little bit of everything ;)

Author’s note: Hey I just found this lovely contest idea by @hobigolightly and wanted to participate :) I hope the rest of you like this as well as an attunement for christmas

I hope you are familiar with the concept of an Advent calendar because it is mentioned. It is just a box filled with chocolate or other stuff and you open one door each day. From the 01.12. till the 24.12. I hope this is understandable :)

–> Masterlist

Recent: Lost on you

She was not the type of girl you just walk up to and say “Hi”. You would rather avoid her gaze and change direction when you encounter her. It was some kind of dark aura that was engulfing her. Quite intimidating…at least at first.

Y/N’s POV

It was the second day you lived in your new apartment. Well it actually only consisted out of one room and a small bath. You rolled around on the airbed you arranged temporary till you manage to built up your bed. The scene presented in front of you nearly let you cry out in frustration. To see that everything was a mess and the fact that your limbs felt numb from carrying all the boxes yesterday. You hid your face under the blanket and decided to not do anything today when you heard a knock on the door. You groaned. Who is this? I do not know anyone here. Heavily you stood up and stomped to the door.

A light haired boy came in sight as you opened the door. He smiled gently. “Hello. I’m your neighbour and wanted to pre-”

With a swift move you closed the door in front of his face. You turned around hearing some murmering from the other side. You were ready to lay down again when it knocked again.

“Go away!”, you yelled, “I don’t need no friends.”

“I never said I wanted to be your friend. It’s just a form of courtesy to great your neighbours. If you have ever heard anything about that!”, he retorted.

“Of course but I think I’m free to choose to whom I want to be polite to. Besides this I clearly don’t need intrusive neighbours who want to chit chat with me everytime we see us or borrow my sugar.”

It was silent for a while so you thought he would have left but then you heard a bitter chuckle. “I feel sorry for you. What a sad life you must live.”

You tore open the door. “My life is none of your business!”, you screamed enraged. Anger tears were burning in your eyes.

“Well isolated like this you must be pretty lonely.”

You gulped. “No I’m not lonely… Have you ever heard about independence?!”

“Oh is the small girl away from home for the first time living of off mommy’s and daddy’s money?”, he questioned sarcastic.

Suddenly it felt like someone had kicked you in the gut. You were so taken aback that you did not noticed the first tears that were rolling down your cheeks. Out of reflex you wiped over your face. Only then you noticed it. You hated that your body was reacting like this, displaying your vulnerability for everyone to see.

“Who are you to judge anyway?!“ You slammed the door shut.

Third person’s POV

Yoongi just came back from the studio were he had a rather unproductive day. He just couldn’t really focus the whole day. It basically had been like this the whole week. Additionally it also had started to snow. A little to early for his taste since it was still November. Yoongi entered the apartment building brushing off the snow that had not melted already. He made his way up the stairs and as he reached his floor he stopped in front of your door. Yoongi had never been the guy to intentionally hurt others so seeing you cry made him feel like the worst. Walking by your door every morning and evening he quietly hoped you would open so that he could apologise. But he wasn’t brave enough to just knock.

“I don’t think she is at home”, someone informed him. He spun around to spot the renter. A woman in her mid sixties, who carried her age well. “Probably at her third job. What a poor thing right? She is always working till late in the night.”, she seemed lost in her thoughts for a second, “But who am I telling this. I’m sure you know it. Are you two friends?”

“Well…umm you could say that.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“That is good. She really needs someone. Normally I would say that there must be a greater reasons why people are punished with such a misfortune…But in her case…Taking a young girls parents…Both at once. Really is too cruel.”

She has lost her parents?! Remorse spread in his chest.

“How did it happen?”, Yoongi asked rueful.

“Oh she hasn’t told you yet”, the renter was surprised.

He shook his head hoping she would still answer.

“Maybe I have talked too much again. She should tell you the rest. So have a nice day.” She quickly hurried upstairs.

“You too”, he murmured automatically. He entered his apartment. I need to fix this. Yoongi’s eyes fell on a few small boxes that were tossed in one corner of the room and suddenly an idea stroke through his head. He looked at the clock at the wall.

I should go. The shops are closing soon.

Y/N’s POV

This was one of these days you would have loved to stay in bed. First you were scolded by your boss at your second job and then you got fired from your third job.

“Reduction in staff my ass”, you murmured out loud wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “And I also caught a cold. Awesome.” You slowly climbed up the stairs.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you saw a package lying in front of your door. Who’s is this? It can’t be mine. You looked around but no one was in sight. Then you picked it up. Your name was written on it and the number one. You shook it lightly. Rumbling was heard. But I have not ordered anything. You had to admit that the curiosity was killing you so you quickly grabbed a knife and cut it open.

Inside of it was a box of chocolate and not any kind of chocolate but pretty expensive looking ones. Whoever send me this has a really good taste. Eagerly you tore the box open and put one in your mouth. Immediately your eyes rolled back. It tasted like heaven. This is by far the best thing that had happened to me today. And probably the best chocolate I have ever eaten. You took another one and inspected the package further. A small piece of paper lied at the bottom. The letters “tw” where written on it. Tw? What is that supposed to mean?! You looked into the box again. But there was nothing else in it. No letter. Nothing.

Third person’s POV

“Dude why are you doing this again?”, Hoseok was lying on the sofa watching Yoongi. Yoongi was busy preparing the fifteenth package.

“Because I want to apologise.”

“Then go over there and knock on the damn door. It would save you a shit tone of money and time.”

“It is not that easy. You can’t understand this.”

“You are right. I can’t understand why somebody is working himself up for a stranger”, Hoseok made a meaningful pause, “Or do you want to fuck her? Then I could-”

“Not everything is about sex.” Yoongi threw a pillow at him.

Hoseok catched it. “But it should be..Tell me please what are you getting out of this then?”

“I can make her day better. Isn’t that enough?”

“No not really. You don’t even know her. You can’t just walk around and make people’s lives more enjoyable. It’s weird.”

“You know I really don’t need your unnecessary comments. Either you gonna help me here or you can leave.”

“Chill prince charming. You know I am always at your service.”

Yoongi laughed. “Then get your ass over here.”

Y/N’s POV

It was driving you crazy. It had been over three weeks and you still didn’t know who put the packages in front of your door You already thought about intstalling a camera in the corridor but that seeemed kinda over the top. Besides this you did not even have a camera.

You have created various scenarios in your head about who it could be. Maybe the old renter? She is always so nice to me. Or maybe a secret admirer? But the only clues you had were a various collection of different sweets, sometimes a self cooked meal or a little present. And of course a bunch of white papers with two letters written on it. You had already tried to bring them in a logical order but you always failed. You had to admit that you were hoping to meet the person. Since it was the 23th December already you had to hurry up or else it could all end tomorrow .

That is why you decided to take the day off today. Your goal was to stay inside the whole day. Near the door of course.

Half of the day had passed with you sitting close to the door waiting for any noises at your door. But there had been none and you were grewing impatient. You sighed out loud and since you really had to use the bathroom, you went.

Just when you washed your hands, you heard something had bumped against your door.

“I’ve got you”, you yelled while opening the door.

“What are you doing here?!” Your eyes wandered to the box in his hands and then back to him.

He stammered something incomprehensible while straightening up.

“It was you? The whole time?”, every sign of excitement has left your face.

“Listen I am very sorry for what I said. I did not knew about your parents and I feel terrible”, he tried to explain himself.

“Oh and that is why you choose me the orphaned girl as your little social project for the holidays?”

“No it is not like-”

“I’m fine. I really don’t need your help.” You slammed the door shut.

Third person’s POV

“Wow that really sucks. I am sorry”, Hoseok patted his shoulder. They were sitting in a bar. Everyone around them seemed to be in a happy-tomorrow-is-christmas-mood.

“It is alright you know. It was just a stupid idea anyway. Like you said we don’t even know each other.”

“Since when are you listening to me?! Come on I really think it was a good idea. You should bring it to an end.”

“No I don’t want to. It is useless. She hates me.”

“Christmas is probably the only day miracles are possible.”

“Shut up. Since when are you talking like that?!”

“Since my always optimistic best friend started moping about a girl he likes even though he did not even tried everything.”

“I never said I like her”, Yoongi protested while blushing a little.

“Dude, you can lie to yourself but not to me.” Hoseok stood up. “Let’s go.”

Y/N’s POV

It was christmas. I could not care less. Impatient knocking had woken me from my nap.

“I am coming!” you opened the door. A boy with a huge bouquet of roses in his hands stood there.

“Are those for me?”, you questioned surprised.

“Yes, they are.” He handed them over and you stumbled a little back under the weight. Now the face of the deliver boy was visible. He looked somehow familiar. “Please read the card in it because a friend of mine really put a lot of effort in those presents to see you smile everyday and I don’t think it should go to waste.”

“But-”

“Goodbye ma’am and Merry Christmas!” He left without hearing what you wanted to say.

You put down the flowers and searched for the said card. It stuck in the middle. It said: “This is the beginning: I’m.”

What is this suppose to mean? You read it again and again. Then your eyes wandered through the room and stopped on the white paper pieces in your trash can. You had thrown them away yesterday since you were so angry. You quickly turned it around and collected them all. It took you a little to sort them but then it made sense.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to spent Christmas eve with me? I’m Yoongi”, you read out loud.

Immediately you jumped onto your feet and ran out the door. You knocked on the opposite door. A little too hard maybe.

“Yeez Hoseok it-”, He had opened the door and stopped instantly.

“Hello Yoongi. I am Y/N.” You wrapped your arms around him and your lips landed on his. It took him a second before he kissed back.

After what seemed like ages you pulled back.

“Merry Christmas!”

Whaa I have finished it! I am pretty content! :) I hope you all like this as well ♥

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definitelyameatbag · 7 years ago

Text

Meet the Law Students

Another fic from @drawbaucherys college AU, here now with the Zircons!

---

“Let me tell ya, Bell, one more year of this and we can take the bar, then we’ll be jet-setting lady-bedding super lawyers. You and me, legalistically destroying dictators and warlords the world over.”

The old library building loomed above them as Bell listened to Yana’s hangover ramblings. Sometimes Bell was forced to think Yana chose Law just so she’d be be able to attend the many times she would be brought to court as her own defence.

“Perhaps uncovering the machinations of authoritarian states can wait a little longer, Yana, perhaps after we’ve learned all there is to know about ‘Queen Anne and the Origins of Copyright Law’.”, huffed Bell, climbing the humble set of steps in front of the library. “And that might have to be left to you, I’ve always told you I want to focus on the Defence.”

“Bell, I’m shocked.”, Yana replied, in mock surprise, “You would trust me to go to the Hague all by myself? They say all sorts of things about Dutch women, you might never see me again.”

Bells eyes shot around the campus, dreading to imagine someone overhearing. “Oh, quiet, you!”, she whispered, “And you took my name, that means no more adventures, I own you, now.”

“Because we both agreed your name was the more lawyery one. It’s all about presentation.”, countered Yana, elbowing Bell in the side.

Walking through the large doors, Bell took in the slightly dark, but rather well-kept interior of the converted church. Before her stood shelves and shelves of books, but only after a clearing with a marble floor.

“Mind the step.”, came a soft voice.

“What?”, asked Yana, rather more loudly than what was strictly appropriate for a library. Debate classes taught one to carry ones voice so all might hear, the Law being as clear as the voice used to proclaim ones own interpretation of it. Some found it difficult to turn off this ability once it had been found and cultivated.

“Yana.”, Bell whispered while shifting the books in her arms into her right arm so she might tap Yana with her left. She had looked down and saw the small step onto the marble floor, which was mirrored by another step down into the rows of shelves in front of them. Nimbly navigating the small hazard, the two stepped onto the marble.

“Hello, there!”, greeted the soft voice, which Bell could see was coming from a desk to the side. A blue-haired women, in a brown sweater, cheerily waving at them with a big smile on her face.

Before Bell could stop it, Yana was already beside the desk, in full seductress mode, “Well, morning to you, Blue. You seem nice, I don’t suppose you have much experience with lawyers...”

The women gave a quiet chuckle, “Now, you would be surprised about that...”

“I AM.”, screamed Bell, before adjusting her volume. “I would like to apologize for her, we’re law students who’ve transferred for the bar exam, we’re just here to pick up some books, and Yana here is most certainly not ‘on the market’. Are you, Yana?” Bell could imagine Yanas hair catching fire if her glare was any more intense. “Alright, Mom, whatever you say...”, shrugged Yana, pulling back from the desk.

“No, no, it’s alright, just fun and games, I know how Saturday mornings can be.”, the woman chimed, “Anyway, my name is Laplace, and I have not met you before but it seems you are sisters if I am reading your nametags correctly.”

Yana and Bell looked at eachother, and at their respective tags, ‘Y. Zerkon’ and ‘B. Zerkon’, the pale-skinned Yana in particular amused by the seeming naivety of the librarian in thinking she’s directly related to the levantine Bell. “Ehh, no, we are...married.”, explained Bell.

“Oh!”, squeaked Laplace, most people reacting to their matrimony in the same sort of mild surprise. “It’s rather odd for people your, well, our age getting married.”

“It’s the sort of bright idea law students get when they learn about the tax cuts for married couples.”, Yana elaborated, leaning forward to look at the book that Laplace had on her desk. “Oh, you a fan of aliens?”

Bell could already see where this was going. “Yana, stop it.”, her cheeks already blushing red.

Laplace looked down at the book, “Oh, Arthur C. Clarke? I’ve never read any of his work before, but he does--”

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything about Area 51? About Little Green Men helping Kubrick fake the Moon Landing?”, Yana continued. Laplace’s was blank, the image of incomprehension.

“Yana, for all that is good, you promised me not to talk about my theories in public!”, Bell shouted at the top of her lungs, “And I don’t think they faked the Moon Landing, that’s just crazy talk! They would’ve had sufficient technology to do it for real even if they didn’t have an alien ship to salvage computer hardware from!”

“Wha - they- Moon - alien shi-”, Laplace rubbed her forehead, exasperated, “I am sorry, ladies, but I hope you understand if I told you we would get into trouble if we stocked material of such dubious foundations in a campus library.”

Yana laughed, “Jeez, Bell, you have to relax a little. It’s not going to hurt you. Y’know whatshisface, on the Supreme Court? He thinks Stonehenge was built as a landing pad for UFOs. People love kooks.”

“I feel as though it would not be my place to pry.”, declared Laplace, Bell silently grateful, “So may I just say that I’m reading this book on the suggestion of...well, a friend of mine, she’s working here in the library, and-” her eyes flickered past them, looking at something behind them, “Oh, speak of the-PERRI, MIND THE ST-”

Bell heard the thunk of a foot hitting a wooden step just as she turned to see its source. She saw a blonde woman, with glasses, noticeably short, with her entire torso hidden behind a stack of books she held in both her arms. The world entered slow-motion as Bell stared into the surprised face of the woman in the process of tripping herself on the small step. Her tiny nose, her raised eyebrows, her wide eyes, the little dot that was her mouth. She was, to Bell, adorable.

And then she planted her face onto the marble floor.

“Perri!”, shouted Laplace, as Bell dropped her own books and dashed towards the fallen woman. Pushing the scattered mess of books away as she kneeled down, she placed a hand on the womans shoulder. “Are you ok, Miss?!”

“OOOOOOWWWW!”, was the first noise to come from the little pile in front of her. Seeing a shaking hand sliding up towards the womans shoulders, she picked it up in her own and gave it a light squeeze. The woman squeezed back, twice as hard, “Can you hear me, Miss?!”

“Nah-huh!”, was the reply in-between pants, which Bell took to mean ‘Yes’, she took a breath before she continued. “Alright, let’s get you spun around so we can look at you.”

Lifting gently the hand that she was holding, she helped the woman to spin herself into a sitting position. She was making rapid breaths, and Bell could see a triangular mark right in the centre of her forehead, but miraculously her glasses were still intact. She made direct eye-contact with her, can she seemed to slightly calm down. “Ok, can you tell me where it hurts?”

“My-”, she made a big sniff, her cheeks beginning to puff, “My head, and my knee hurts.”

Bell noticed a few things when looking down at the womans legs. First, she was still holding her hand, and she didn’t want to risk letting go. Secondly, she was wearing cargo shorts, so she could see her right knee, which had a mark. And lastly, both the knee and the forehead had broken skin, and bruises were likely on the way.

“Alright, there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about. What’s your name?”, Bell tried to keep her voice level, to make sure she wasn’t frightened.

“P-Perri.”, she answered, before another sniff.

“Alright, Perri, you only have a few little cuts, and I have cream to help it.” She repositioned herself to the right of the siting Perri, rubbing her back in a soothing motion. “Alright, Perri, I’m Bell. I’ll need both hands to get the cream, Perri.”

Perri released her hand, and she quickly fished out her tube of antiseptic cream, twisting off the top and squeesing out a small white blob. “Ok, this might sting a little bit, but it’ll help it heal and not hurt later. Alright?” Perri replied with a silent nod of the head.

Bell dabbed the cream onto her forehead, and started applying it across the whole mark. Perri squirmed a little, and tears started forming around her eyes.

“Perri, are you ok?”, Laplace spoke, Bell noticing her for the first time sitting opposite her next to Perri.

“I’m not crying! It’s a...reaction! It’s automatic!”, protested Perri, as the tears started running down her face.

Laplace rubbed her back, “Oh, you don’t have to make excuses, sweetie...”

“I’m not making ex...”, Perri sniffed, louder this time, “...cuses.”

“Alright, Perri, it’s nearly done.”, assured Bell, taking out another blob of cream. Her eyes caught Yana for a second, for once looking speechless.

“Bell.”, declared Yana, “I want to have babies with you.”

Bell blushed, applying the cream to Perri’s knee. “This isn’t exactly the ti-”

“Hey dudes!”, came another voice, from within the maze of shelves. “Sorry I’m late, I got ya all donut-” she turned the corner into Bells view, she saw a woman with dyed-white hair in a ponytail, holding a donut box. She was looking directly at Perri, and assumed a more aggressive stance, face filled with anger. “WHO MADE PERRI CRY?!”

“I’M NOT CRYING!”

#steven universe #fanfic #college au #@drawbauchery #peridot #lapis #blue zircon #yellow zircon #amethyst

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courtanie · 7 years ago

Text

Submission from anonymous

Hey dude, is it okay if I post a review of one of your ficts on your tumblr? I don’t have an account on ff.net and I honestly don’t want to if there’s an option to reach you elsewhere anyway.. cause point is I’m not really into fandoms or ships or smut or fanart, this ain’t really my cup of tea, but I really like the idea of fanfiction. I guess what irks me in other fanforms is the lack of exploration of the source material? Lack of critical input? I’m not sure and honestly I don’t think too much about it, but I love storytelling above all and it’s great to know that there are places out there where people build communities based on free world building.. you know what I mean? And I won’t lie and say that such a wild and unkept environments bring out only the best out of people, because really, the world of fanfiction (at least as much as i had seen..which ain’t much) is fulled with folks that use is to serve their own fantasies rather than valuing cohersive writing or um..sometimes logic? And that can be so morbidly fascinating and at the same time.. off putting.. to me? I’m not writing this to be a dick and I’m really sorry if it comes over as such, I’m sorta struggling to explain why I’m even reading it if the first thing I’m stating is that I’m not into this stuff.. oh yeah, fuck it, back on track- It’s so fascinating with what kind of stuff people come up with, truly astonishing, things I wouldn’t have thought of in my life for better or worse and the thing that surprises me the most is when I open up a story as a joke, just because i thought the premise sounds so ridiculously it ought to be entertaining in some way- and am consequently blown away by how well it is written. A thing that only fanfiction can do to me- use my predjustices against me and punishes me with good fortune. I never thought reading about a fairly punching another fairy in the mouth would make me so happy but here I am, nooding approvingly out of shock (and some satisfaction too I’d say). It’s soooo impressive how much thought you put into this Dude! Fucking went and invented a language for them! Jesus Christ- I know so little professional writers that would do that..

So much detail, but not enough to be overwhelming, enough to keep the characters grounded. Enough development of the world to feel the realism creep onto the character with a steady persistent pacing, enough room the breathe and how much the humor contrasts it is wonderful and the fact that it derives so much out of the characters themselves makes them fell much more independent to me.

I’m not a native english speaker (so sorry for bad and confusing grammar) and recently moved to another country I barely speak the language of and certain things in the story hit home. I’m so so impressed by your research for it. Just take my word for it that you’re writing the dialogue (or the content of it?) really well and organically, not childish at all. Fact is, when you adapt to a new language you need to step a few steps back in order to be able to follow the path. You gotta hold yourself back so often it feels like you loosing on credibility and everyone sees you as a child of sort, and you know you can give much more, can show much more and just know much more that you are able to be but cant for the time being. And you wonder if you’ll ever come that far to be able to express what you want, and you start doubting yourself if you truly do know what you think you know or did your frustration get the best of you. It’s hard to explain, all the new and old information gets mixed together and it gets kind of hard to keep track of it you know? The things you were certain off, become or seem useless and the things that are new and incomprehensible become like a key of survival.. but you need more time, you need to wait.

Ramble, ramble, ramble. This was just meant to be a bit of encouragment, but of course I rambled into oblivion.Hope it’s not too awkard :) but I really enjoyed Glass and I’m gonna check for updates here and there, just don’t overwork yourself- It’s too sad to see when people get overrun by their own work especially if it is meant for enjoyment and relaxation.

If you find any of the above info usefull feel free to use it, you don’t need to post this ..um..submission(?) I just wanted to post my compliments, you’ve fished yourself a fish out of water. I probably won’t change anything about my fanfiction habits (that is, skipping trough it twice a year when I remember that it exist..) but it feel good to know that people are being creative out there and are getting so good at it as well. Seeing talented people in any field is such joy, as a hobby or profession, it doesn’t matter, It is so good to know that there are so many passionate people scattered around the world ,hidden, doing what they love.

Enjoy your day, xoxo

Hi sorry I know you said I don’t need to post this but okay I do I have no other way to reply to you

There was literally nothing better in the world I could’ve woken up to today holy crap I am legitimately crying happy tears right now. Like I am all but speechless and trying desperately to figure out how to express how appreciative I am for this.

Glass is like, my ultimate pet project. I have others that I’ve been working on that I enjoy a little more, but when it comes down to it, nothing takes more of my effort than Glass’ worldbuilding, so getting any kind of advice or criticism or praise on certain elements really means the world to me. You have no idea how long I waited for someone to talk about the “child” talk. Literally no idea. I was literally BEGGING people to comment on it, to tell me if I’m way off course for how situations like that would play out. No one would help me at all despite the number of readers I have over two sites. You cannot imagine the relief I felt from your words here. I’ve been carrying that stress for months and it’s just nice to know it was carried for nothing more than my own anxieties. Considering I only took two years of a foreign language about ten years ago, I don’t really have a lot of memories on how it played out other than hating the course. (I have my sources who are a lil more practiced in the language field but lol I’m awful about asking for help)

But either way, thank you. Holy shit thank you SO much for this. Ngl I saw ‘submission from anonymous’ in my email and immediately groaned like “jfc it’s another goddamn spam link”. So my glee here is just expressed tenfold from the utter surprise of it all. Also can I say I loved you opened it as a joke. I jump back and forth between treating it like a joke for myself and being super cereal so I totally get coming at it from that angle.

(Also, there’s ArchiveofourOwn that posts fanfiction and has a bit of a nicer comment interface in case you run into this problem again with someone else’s fics and not knowing where to post them, and you don’t need an account to review)

All that aside, thank you again. This just... it really made my day. I may come home and work on the next chappie a lil more after work this just boosted my confidence in the project like no other so thank you.

#;u;#such a great way to wake up holy shit #submission #long post #faterianea stuff

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