#actually a scrap but it’s smooth and it had a lot of potential so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

Text

Love Languages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

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

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

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

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

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

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

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

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

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Martin blinked at the notebook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

309 notes · View notes

mk-wizard · 4 years ago

Text

Big Hero 6 The Series: It could have been better

Hello, friends. Today, I will be analyzing a TV series based on a movie that I fell in love with for its colourful themes, deep plot, compelling characters, great CGI and memorable messages. Before I get into it, I want to take a moment to say that I have quit doing videos. They are too big of a pain in the petunia to make and I write better than I speak, so I will stick to writing essays, reviews and more. Anyway, onto the analysis.

All I can say about Big Hero 6 the series is that it had a great concept, it presented some great ideas and tried hard to be a cartoon of the times, but it could have and should have been a lot better. The show’s downfall all centers around trying too hard to be kid friendly which makes the shame sting all the more because Big Hero 6 was already kid friendly even with its dark themes, sharp edges and intelligent writing. If anything, even the brightest kid friendly cartoons (Steven Universe, She-Ra, etc.) had those things and actually benefitted from them. By needlessly trying too hard, character development got scrapped, the edges were all smoothed out, storytelling was subpar, the humour was too silly and the executive meddling in the end produced a dismal final season. However, I don’t want this analysis to be one lengthy negative rant about how awful the series was because in its defense, awful is an unfair word. It did have potential and ideas which are worth carrying over to a reboot that I hope will be done someday in the future. Also, we should root for a reboot because Big Hero 6 would not be the first story that needs it before striking gold. Just look at how many times Spider-Man was rebooted in film before MCU found the version that worked. Anyway, I will list all the things in Big Hero 6 that could have been better in my opinion;

1- Go easy on the laughs and be more generous with the action. - I love adding comedy to my own writing because I think a good sense of humour makes everything better, but Big Hero 6 is not a stand up comedy routine. It is a superhero story where we expect action, suspense and life or death situations that are to be taken seriously first. The comedy should be for relief and with the right timing. Also, the chibi cutscenes and having characters act like fools aren’t funny. Ren and Stimpy are the exception not the standard and their way of making you laugh doesn’t fit an action series. In a show as big as Big Hero 6, real life physics and danger matters.

2- Make the villains menacing and gritty. - I admit that after having a movie villain like Yokai who was the stuff of nightmares, it is going to be a challenging act to follow, but it was obvious that the writers were trying especially with some villains who could have easily gone into some dark relatable territory. For example, Mr. Sparkles (the gentleman in the photo above) embodies social media and Internet personalities. Right off the bat, you have a long list of things which embody the dark side of that like scams, fraud, using social media to dox or harass, driving people to suicide, online predators, the Internet personalities being very depressed people in real life, and much more horrifying things. When you stop and look at it, Mr. Sparkles even looks like the Joker which hints how dark and scary he could have been if the stops were removed. The same goes for enemies like Hardlight who embodies online gaming, Liv with cloning, Obake an amoral and insane scientist, and Trina and Noodle Burger Boy (more on him later) being evil robots. Globby especially should have been painted and written in much darker colours rather being played off for laughs because he has many parallels with Clay Face. The only two villains who I can say were supposed to be campy, charming and comical were Baron Von Steamer and Supersonic Sue because they were a satire of the Adam West style villains.

The rest of them needed to be dark and threatening including Mr. Sparkles. In fact, I would love a rebooted version of Mr. Sparkles who gives me the heebie-jeebies. Going back to Noodle Burger Boy, I must confess that I was actually excited when I heard that he was going to be the main villain of the final season because I thought he was going to fulfill his master’s final wish and as a reminder, Noodle Burger Boy was based on a super robot for military purposes.

It would have been fantastic if Noodle Burger Boy was upgraded into a full military war machine with a new threatening look. For that, I think all of the villains deserve to be rebooted and have their full potential unlocked for better or for worse.

3- A show about geniuses merits genius level art quality. - I am usually forgiving towards art styles, but in the case of Big Hero 6, the oversimplified style with minimal details and lack of textures did not suit the show. The characters blend in with the background which makes them look flat and the special effects were extremely dulled down. I also know for a fact that Disney can do a lot better than this because I saw how superbly Tangled the Series was drawn.

You can see and almost feel the difference in quality, the number of layers and level of detail between the two styles. I think there was no excuse Big Hero 6 was not done in the same style and at the same level if not better as Tangled.

3- Don’t dumb down or flanderize amazing characters. - I absolutely detest it when characters are flanderized because it makes them one dimensional and grating. For example, Go Go is tough as nails and extremely calm, but she is not cold or hesitant towards helping her friends. She doesn’t require very special episodes for us to know that. If anything, the movie version of Go Go reminded me a lot of Garnet in how she deconstructed the broody character. She isn’t cold or emotionless. Just calm and mature. Another good example was how Honey Lemon was rewritten to be overly positive to the point of toxicity, naïve and oblivious with a juvenile obsession with stickers. Then you have poor Fred who was rewritten to be an incompetent fool. The spark that makes Big Hero 6 shine is that they are a team of geniuses meaning they are all intelligent. Even Fred is genius in his own way just not a scientific one. He has a vivid imagination, he is resourceful and can get himself out of tight spots. Please, don’t turn characters into dummies especially if their intelligence is a part of them. It doesn’t make them better or funnier. It ruins them.

4- Tadashi needs closure and honour. - I am all for Hiro making peace with the loss of his brother, but Tadashi is to the Big Hero 6 team what Uncle Ben was to Spider-Man. His loss was the catalyst if not the reason. He should never be forgotten. Moreover, there was never any true closure to him especially with the possibility that he may still be alive up in the air. After all, like Callaghan, his body was never found and it turned out that Callaghan was still alive.

With that said, who is to say that Tadashi was not secretly still alive and just hiding or being hidden? This is something that Disney really needed to clear up if not for the fans, then at least as a service to such an important character. Never just forget about them.

5- The format can only be episodic with a deep plots, continuity and character development. - Random episodes with a mere monster of the day is an outdated format which doesn’t fit Big Hero 6′s modern and bright setting. In seasons 1 and 2, when the episodes were plot heavy with character development, the series shined brightest. It also helped move the story along, but with the final season, plot was removed, closure was abandoned or poorly written if any was given, and characters were disallowed from growing. A good example at how plot and character development could have made this series and its characters better was the relationship between Hiro and Megan. Would it have truly survived or would they have broken up?

Would Richardson Mole have eventually lost interest in his obsession with besting and bullying Fred or would his obsession consume him compelling him to become a super villain? I do see quite a few similarities between Mole and Reverse Flash.

Then you have Karmi who is in my opinion, the biggest wild card of the bunch. She was intentionally introduced as an arrogant, prickly and unlikable yet complex character who rivaled Hiro bitterly.

Yet had a huge crush on his alter ego and as time went on, started to grow up and even form a friendship with Hiro. What would have happened further down the road with her? Would she have become a super hero herself? Or maybe even another love interest for Hiro kind of like how Black Cat is for Spider-Man?

Is Obake really gone?

What does the future hold Diana (Liv’s clone), Liv herself or the Sycorax the genetics company?

Is Alistair Krei going to become an ally to Big Hero 6 or an antagonist? There is also the issue at how little we know about the other Big Hero 6 characters other than Fred, Hiro and Baymax. What are Honey Lemon, Wasabi and Go Go’s backstories? These questions matter and while not every mystery can be solved, leaving none of them solved is lazy writing.

6- Executives, kindly stay out of the writing and any other part of the creative process. - I’m sorry, execs, but there is no nice way to say it. History itself proves that every time executives got involved in the creative process of any media, it got worse not better. Leave the writing to the creative team and the execs should only handle the legal stuff. Please. We understand that TV is a business, but writing itself is not. It is an art which you just don’t have a talent for. Let the creative people do their thing with the freedom necessary and you do your thing, deal? Deal.

7- Focus on Hiro and Baymax. - The are the main characters so keep them at the heart of the series no matter what happens around them. That is all I can say.

And that sums up all the things that could have made Big Hero 6 the series better, but this is all just my opinion. What is yours?

PS: I am well aware that the Big Hero 6 series is being retconned because a new series called Baymax is in the works as well as the long awaited sequel to the first movie. I am looking forward to both with an open mind. PPS: I also am aware that some people liked this show the way it was including the art style and I am cool with that. An analysis for art that includes cartoons is never right or wrong. It is solely based on opinion. I may have thought this series could have been better, but there are people who make arguments that it could have been worse.

124 notes · View notes

apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

Text

Thanks again to @teamhook for the artwork and being the muse for this one! You wanted a movie fic and I did my best 🙂

Midnight

Chapter 7 — The Slipper

Summary: In which our heroine resets the clock

Chapter 7 on AO3 (That’s all folks!!)

“You’ll never know

How many dreams I dreamed about you”

-It’s Been a Long, Long Time, Bing Crosby

It was receiving the invitation to Arthur and Guinevere’s second wedding that did it. Emma’s fairy godfather stayed in touch after their weekend in the country, offering investment advice for her windfall and acting for all the world like her adopted brother. She knew he felt guilty for finding his happy ending at her expense. Despite her reassurances she messed up her chances hours before he came on the scene, maybe months if she were really honest.

Three months ago, she left the estate a little more scarred, a little less hopeful, and much more wealthy. She paid back the money stolen from Granny but couldn’t bring herself to buy a place in the city like she originally planned. Instead, she took the remainder and invested it per Arthur’s overbearing instruction. She doubled it in a week and tripled that figure by the end of the month.

She still wasn’t satisfied, though. Dreams of a certain blue-eyed man haunted her, his last words whispering through her mind like a mantra and a curse. So she found Neal’s trail again and spent the next couple of weeks looking for him in the shadows and muck. She found him mooching off his mother of all people.

All the hate, anger, and embarrassment she buried deeply at the end of their relationship dissipated the moment she saw him. Why had she given him so much real estate in her mind, allowed the ghost of him to rob her of her sanity and potential happiness?

It was with satisfaction at a job well done rather than his impeding downfall that she turned him over to the local authorities and headed back to the east coast.

By the time she arrived, she was richer and even more lonely.

She was listless and finding no reason to stay, Emma accepted Arthur’s latest proposition that she needed to see the world. Using his numerous estates as a guide, she flitted across the globe, experiencing all the world had to offer and looking. Always looking.

It took her longer than it should have to realize she wouldn’t find what she was missing in the new people she met or the natural wonders she explored. The whole time her mind and soul were calling out for a more familiar setting and a dearer face.

Lancelot was right. She was running scared, and the only thing it was going to get her was absolutely nothing.

The handsome, almost homewrecker had not attempted to reach out since their quiet conversation on the beach, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know what he was up to. After calling it quits, he realized the US hadn’t been the best place for him. He returned with great fanfare to France, where he took on the daily running of the family business. He was said to have the Midas touch, working with the locals to improve the processes and products they offered. His vineyard was becoming the trendiest tourist destination in the country.

Not even a month after his departure, the press reported on the fairytale romance of the champagne millionaire and his widowed neighbor, Belle French. The pair’s engagement announcement ran in every major newspaper in the world.

It was quick work, even for Lancelot du Lac. She couldn’t begrudge him, though. He was never truly a bad man, just a regular one who made bad decisions. She could certainly relate.

Cutting her trip short, she returned to the city where it all started, to a tiny loft apartment she rented on a month-by-month basis above Granny’s diner. There didn’t seem to be much point in seeing the world when the only world she was interested in was centered about four hours away.

The news of Killian was more challenging to come by than the other people involved in her charade, but that only made it more precious. A charity fundraiser here, a life saved there, the ever-present and never changing picture on the hospital website she checked so often it was now saved as her homepage. She thought glimpses and scraps were all she was entitled to at first. However, the longer she tried to resist his pull, the more she started to think maybe she did deserve a chance.

Maybe she wasn’t too late.

Staring at the thick cream-colored invitation with scrolling words waxing romance, dates, and times, she came to a decision and packed her bags.

—

It wasn’t hard to find the exact location of their meeting. It was burned into Emma’s memory. Their initial encounter cemented as one of those moments that seem routine when they happen but take root in your fate and grow, threading through every aspect of your life until all traces of happiness are tied to one serendipitous second in time.

After departing from Arthur’s estate in a chauffeured car all those months ago, she had returned to this spot and found her Bug right where she left it. Someone, probably the Prince Charming she was determined to break, had filled the tank with gas. So, she bid adieu to Arthur’s employee and drove off into the sunset all alone. Like she did everything.

Nothing had changed about the place in the intervening months. It was thirty minutes to midnight. The dark sky was clear, stars twinkling from space and the moon a tiny thumbnail above the evergreens. She would wait all night if she had to, but sooner or later, she would catch her quarry.

Emma Swan always got her man.

Unfortunately, she didn’t always get him on her first try. She waited for a couple hours the first night, but no black BMW could be seen cresting the hill. Admitting defeat, she went back to her hotel and vowed to try again.

She knew she could have sprung an unannounced visit on him at his job. After all, it wasn’t difficult to pick out his dark sedan in the parking lot when she cruised by the hospital several times a day. Nor would it have been difficult to track down his address and ambush him one evening when he returned home. The idea had a lot of appeal since his place lived in a variety of fantasies involving oversized shirts and pancakes.

Deep down, she knew after she had robbed him of his choice so many times in their brief acquaintance, it would be wrong to show up and act like nothing happened. She needed to allow him to invite her back in or send her away.

God, she hoped he invited her in.

It took three nights, but eventually, she saw headlights. Smoothing down the hem of her black tank top over her skinny jeans, she took a cleansing breath and stepped out into the middle of the road.

She had no doubt it was him, the cautious pace slicing through the night at exactly the same time as before. She could even tell the precise moment he spotted her in the bright lights of his high beams, the luxury car swerving slightly into the other lane. It was less than a minute later he rolled to a stop about ten feet away.

Then, nothing. The silence of a door not opening was deafening.

Maybe this was her answer.

She wished she could see past the glare and through the windshield. Look into his eyes at least once more and tell him everything she figured out over the past couple of months. The same things he had tried to say to her before he left.

Finally, a lifetime later, she heard the door open. She felt every footfall in the far reaches of her heart, each measured step in time with the rapid beating in her chest. She was lightheaded with longing, her eyes frantically trying to adjust between light and dark and make out Killian’s beloved form in the nighttime.

“Fancy meeting you here, Captain.”

There was another long pause and then he stepped into the narrow, car-sized area of light. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The static, professionally staged photo on the website never did him justice in the first place. “Emma, when did you get back?”

She heard the question for what it really was, ‘Emma, why are you here?’

Smiling past her nerves, she took a step closer. He looked like the proverbial deer in the highlights, like any sudden movement would cause him to turn tail and run. She did this to him. It was her fault her cocky Prince Charming looked spooked. “A couple of days ago. I need a ride to Misthaven. I’m late for an appointment.”

“An appointment? It’s almost midnight. I’m getting the strangest sense of deja vu.”

“You see, there’s a man. He’s actually the best thing that ever happened to me. But I felt like I didn’t deserve him, like I didn’t deserve anyone, really, so I ran. Several times. And even though I pushed him away and ruined everything, I need to let him know that he was never nothing. His feelings were never nothing. As a matter of fact, he’s come to mean everything to me, and I wanted to tell him I was sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Taking a step forward, he stood nearly toe to toe with her. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, his face twisted in thought, hands hanging in fists at his side. “Is that so?”

Reaching out, she placed her hands on his shoulders and she looked up into his eyes, whispering, “I’ve loved you since you let me have all the bites with whipped cream. I was just too scared to admit it.”

She waited when all she wanted to do was pull him closer and bury her face in his neck, inhale his intoxicating scent again and taste his skin. She had said what she needed to say, but it didn’t give her the right to waltz back into his life if that wasn’t what he wanted. “Killian, I—“

Her words were cut off by his abrupt kiss. He grabbed her like he was drowning and she was the only thing that could save him. His chest heaving and lips brutal in their quest. He hitched her up slightly, settling her against the hood of his car. He half leaned over her as he continued to explore every neglected inch of her mouth, every lonely corner of her soul. When he finally broke off his passionate embrace, his breathing was ragged and his voice harsh with emotion. “I have big plans for you and whipped cream, love.”

Laughter filled the inches between them, his forehead resting against hers. Peppering his face with soft kisses, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, she teased, “Prove it.”

—

The trail of clothes leading to the bedroom remained untouched for days. They survived the early days of their relationship on pancakes, whipped cream, and borrowed shirts.

Over the years, people asked her when she knew Killian Jones was the one. Her answer was always the same.

At the stroke of midnight.

Every night for the rest of their lives.

Note:

Midnight — Info about the movie

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

20 notes · View notes

lady-literature · 4 years ago

Text

no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let��s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step.

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left.

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #aladdin au

236 notes · View notes

frankendykes-monster · 3 years ago

Text

Space Jam: A New Legacy is content to be content.

The original Space Jam was a calculated marketing exercise. Michael Jordan was the biggest sports star of the nineties, and Space Jam capitalised on Jordan’s brand potential while also allowing the athlete to refashion his own narrative into a family-friendly mythology. Space Jam packaged Jordan for a generation, smoothing the wrinkles out of his story by presenting a wholesome family man making an earnest transition from basketball to baseball.

It also helped Warner Bros. to figure out what to do with their Looney Tunes characters, which had largely laid dormant within the company’s intellectual property vaults. There had been a conscious effort to revitalised the company’s animation with shows like Tiny Toon Adventures and even Animaniacs, but those classic and beloved cartoons were a merchandising opportunity waiting to happen. So the logic of the original Space Jam was clear, it was an excuse to tie together two potentially profitable strands of intellectual property.

Space Jam itself was something of an afterthought. The movie struggles to reach its ninety-minute runtime. It often feels like the production team have to utilise every scrap of film to reach that target, with extended riffs focusing on Bill Murray and Michael Jordan on the golf course and with a lot of the improvisation from the voice cast included in the finished film. The movie’s ending comes out of nowhere, and Space Jam struggles to hit many of the basic plot beats of a scrappy sports movie.

The movie itself was immaterial to the success of Space Jam as a concept. After all, the film only grossed $250m at the global box office, enough to scrape into the end of year top ten behind The Nutty Professor and Jerry Maguire. However, the film’s real success lay in merchandising, with the film generating between $4bn and $6bn in licensing and merchandising. Key to this was the success of the six-time platinum-certified soundtrack which remains the ninth highest-grossing soundtrack of all-time.

In some to trace a lot of modern Hollywood back to the original Space Jam. So much of how companies package and release modern media feels like an extension of that approach, the reduction of the actual film itself to nothing more than “content” that exists as a larger pool of marketable material. After all, the unspoken assumption underlying AT&T’s disastrous decision to send all of their blockbusters to HBO Max was the understanding that HBO Max itself was often packaged free with company’s internet. Movies would no longer be their own things, but just perks to be packaged and sold as part of larger deals.

In the decades since the release of Space Jam, the industry has become increasingly focused on the idea of packaging and repackaging intellectual property. It has become increasingly common for films to showcase multiple intellectual properties housed at the same studios. Simple crossovers like Alien vs. Predators or The Avengers now seem positively humble when compared to the smorgasbord of brand synergy on display in projects like The Emoji Movie or Ralph Breaks the Internet.

Interestingly, as Disney have steadily securing their intellectual property portfolio with additions like Pixar and Lucasfilm and Marvel Studios and 20th Century Fox, Warner Bros. have becoming increasingly bullish about showcasing the depth and breadth of their bench. The LEGO Movie imagines a wide range of properties consolidated under one brand. Ready Player One depicted a pop culture user space lost in nostalgia for properties and trinkets. However, those movies also managed to tell their own stories, even as they grappled with the weight of brand synergy pushing down on top of them.

Space Jam: A New Legacy has no such delusions. It understands that it does not exist as a story or as a feature film. Instead, it has distilled cinema down to a content-delivery mechanism. The plot of the movie finds basketball star LeBron James sucked into the “Serververse” and forced to ally with the Looney Tunes in order to play a basketball game with the fate of the world in the balance. However, while the original Space Jam ran a brisk and unfocused ninety minutes, A New Legacy extends itself to almost two hours. There is always more content to repackage and sell, after all.

A New Legacy slathers its cynicism in nostalgia, directly appealing to a generation of audiences who have convinced themselves that Space Jam was a good movie and a beloved childhood classic. A New Legacy is built around the understanding that the original Space Jam walked so that it might run, counting on the audience’s nostalgia for the original film to excuse a lot of its indulgences. After all, it would be a betrayal of the franchise if A New Legacy wasn’t a crash and vulgar cash-in. In many ways, A New Legacy does what most sequels aspire to do, scaling the original film’s ambitions aggressively upwards.

As with the original Space Jam, there is layer of irony to distract from the film’s clear purpose. In the original Space Jam, the villainous Swackhammer planned to abduct the Looney Tunes and force them to play at his themeparks. The implication was that the characters did not want to be sold into corporate servitude, stripped of their own identity and rendered as crass tools of unchecked capitalism. The irony of Space Jam lay in the fact that the entire movie was a variant on Swackhammer’s themepark and the Looney Tunes were dancing to that theme anyway as Daffy puckers up and kisses the Warner Bros. stamp on his own ass.

In A New Legacy, a sentient algorithm – Al G. Rhythm – is cast as the movie’s primary antagonist. The film gestures broadly at a satirical criticism of the modern film industry, with Al G. Rhythm shaping and warping the future of movie-making by suggesting things like computer-generating movie stars and producing a constant array of recycled intellectual property. A New Legacy recognises the machinations of Al G. Rhythm as unsettling and horrifying, with throwaway jokes about the theft of ideas and the violation of privacy, but the villain largely serves as a smokescreen to let the movie have its cake and eat it.

After all, A New Legacy revels in Al G. Rhythm’s plans. LeBron James is turned into an animated figure and dumped into classic Looney Tunes shorts like Rabbit Season and The Rabbit of Seville. The film understands that while the audience might be afraid of the algorithm, they also yearn for it. After all, it isn’t Al G. Rhythm who structures A New Legacy so that the film spends an extended sequence touring the company’s beloved intellectual properties.

A New Legacy is really just an investors’ day presentation that celebrates the sheer amount of content that Warner Bros. own. It’s not too difficult to imagine the film screened investors before the Discovery deal, as proof of just how many viable franchising opportunities existed within the copyright of the company itself. It’s a weird and unsettling showcase, in large part because it feels like that warning from Jurassic Park. The studio were so obsessed with whether they could do a thing that they never stopped to consider whether they should.

The film’s middle section includes a whirlwind tour of the properties owned by Warner Bros. After Bugs “plays the hits” with James, the two set off on an adventure to recover the other Looney Tunes from other beloved Warner Bros. properties. Some of these advertisements make sense: Daffy and Porky are living in the world of Superman: The Animated Series, while Lola seems to have found the Wonder Woman from the Bloodlines animated films. Others make much less sense in a movie aimed at kids, like the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote hiding in Mad Max: Fury Road or Yosemite Sam living in Casablanca.

Of course, it’s debatable how much of A New Legacy is aimed at kids, as compared to the kids of the nineties. Its target market seems to be kids in the late nineties who never grew up, because they never had to. Elmer Fudd and Sylvester are hiding out in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. Granny and Speedy have taken refuge in the opening scenes of The Matrix. While the original Space Jam featured odd pop cultural shoutouts to things like Pulp Fiction, at least that was somewhat contemporaneous.

To be fair, there is no art driving these choices. Many of these references serve to point the audience towards established properties. It is a sentient recommendation algorithm for HBO Max and a handy way of stoking audience interest in upcoming projects like The Matrix 4 (December 2021) or Furiosa (June 2023). It is a helpful reminder that Superman: The Animated Series has been remastered in high definition to stream on HBO Max. Foghorn Leghorn even rides a dragon from Game of Thrones to remind viewers that the show is streaming on HBO Max and that there are prequels coming.

It’s all very bizarre, but also strangely lifeless. The climax of the film finds the inevitable basketball game played in front of a crowd of familiar pop culture icons drawn from a wide range of sources: King Kong, The Iron Giant, Batman ’66, The Wizard of Oz, The Mask and many more. It feels very much like a surreal power play, a company showcasing the depth of its own vaults at a turbulent time in the industry. It leads to weird moments, like Al G. Rhythm even quoting Training Day, perhaps the film’s most unlikely draw from the “Warner Bros. Intellectual Property Vault.”

The most revealing aspect of the movie is its central conflict, with Al G. Rhythm cynically manipulating LeBron’s son Dom. Dom is convinced that his father doesn’t understand him, that his father is unable to see that his skill lies in video game coding rather than old-fashioned basketball. Rhythm is able to create a schism between father and son, using Dom’s code and his anger to attack and undermine LeBron James and the Looney Tunes. It’s a very broad and very archetypal story. There are no points for realising that Dom eventually comes around to his father and accepts that Rhythm is a villain.

However, it signals an interesting shift in these sorts of narratives. Traditionally, these sorts of generational conflicts played out between fathers and sons, with fathers presented as antagonistic and sons presented as heroic. The original Star Wars saga is built around Luke Skywalker trying to wrestle and grapple with his father Darth Vader. In Superman II, the eponymous superhero is forced to confront Zod, a representative of his father’s generation and the old world. Even in Batman Begins, Bruce Wayne is set against his surrogate father figure Ra’s Al Ghul.

The metaphor driving these sorts of stories was fairly simple and straightforward. Every generation needs to come into their own and take control of their own agency within the world. Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi ends with Darth Vader dead and Luke staring out into the wider universe. Times change, and each generation has an obligation to try to create a better world than the one left to them by their parents. In the conflict between parents and children, it has generally been children who have prevailed.

However, in recent years, the trend has swung back sharply. It’s notable that the villain in Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens is an errant child who doesn’t properly respect his parents, and that Star Wars: Episode IX – The Rise of Skywalker ends with order restored when the protagonist takes the name of the beloved heroes of the older films. Shows like Star Trek: Picard are built around the idea that kids need their older generation of parents to swoop in and tell them how to properly live their lives.

A New Legacy is an interesting illustration of this trend. The movie ends with a reconciliation between LeBron and Dom, but it is very clearly on LeBron’s terms. Dom is manipulated and misled by sinister forces, and his father has to save him while realigning his moral compass. Father knows best. It demonstrates how the underlying logic of these stories has shifted in recent years, perhaps reflecting the understanding that perhaps the older generation won’t surrender the floor gracefully.

As with Ready Player One, there’s a monstrous Peter Pan quality to A New Legacy. It is a film about how the culture doesn’t have to change. It can be recycled and repurposed forever and ever and ever. At the end of Space Jam, Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny parted ways. There was an understanding that the two worlds existed apart from one another. However, A New Legacy ends with the collapse of these worlds into one another; the “Serververse” manifesting itself in the real world. As LeBron walks home, Bugs asks if he can move in.

Of course, with HBO Max subscription, the audience can take Bugs home anytime they want

#long post

22 notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Tomb Lewks, Part 10

(Masterpost of LT Lewks) (Canary’s Pinboard of Content)(part 9)

Warning: Mild spoilers for season 1 and 2 of The Lost Tomb Reboot

Look 51 is Wu Xie’s diving wetsuit, which is a thing of beauty. Wu Xie is a thing of beauty wearing it. Look at his chest muscles! Look at... *fans self*

This is a good outfit for swimming.

It’s also a good look for lifting an impressionable young woman up off the floor by her waist, pressing her against the wall while you continue to hold her up by her waist with your intriguingly strong arms, and looking at her like this...

...in order to convince her to stop being in love with you lying to you about stuff.

(more after the cut)

Look 52 is Wu Xie’s hoodie of age-appropriate-relationship contemplation. Hilariously, when Wu Xie says he’s too old for Bai Haotian, Pangzi uses his May-December relationship with Xiao Ge as a direct counter example.

He wears this grey hoodie with a blue denim jacket and grey./stone color jeans.

This is a good outfit for manspreading while you contemplate the bottles of Nongfu spring water on the table and the larger bottle on the counter.

You know, the US theoretically doesn’t have much censorship, and yet we have the travesty of Destiel and the even worse tragedy of Queliot; meanwhile this show that had to turn every zombie into a crustacean to please the censors....

...managed to give us scene after scene of two men sharing a domestic life, and occupying significantly coded roles within that life, and they get away with it simply by having them occasionally talk about chicks.

Look 53 is, uh, the white tee shirt that Wu Xie is changing into here.

Ok I should just be focusing on Zhu Yilong’s shoulder blades in this shot, and I AM, but I also have to remind everyone that THERE IS ONLY ONE BED and it has two pillows side by side.

Look 54 belongs to Bai Haotian, who wears this adorable overalls getup for their visit to the weather station.

This look features artfully torn overalls, sturdy work boots, and (eventually) black fingerless gloves, like everyone else in the group likes to wear. Under the overalls she’s wearing a plaid shirt with a round standup collar, which gives the look a feminine touch and offsets her lovely pixie face.

This look says, I am an adorable potential love interest, and I am also a competent and self-sufficient member of the team, who is absurdly pretty in an interesting tomboyish way. The best word for Xiao Bai’s style in English isn’t actually tomboy, but a stolen French word, gamine, which was used a lot for Audrey Hepburn and Jean Seberg, back in the day. (Before OP’s time! OP is not that old).

I’m frankly shocked at how well this show managed to integrate a interesting and pretty female character in to the group without 1. making a romance inevitable 2. making a romance impossible 3. spoiling any other ships 4. making her a damsel in need of rescuing. I mean, yes, she does need rescuing at a couple of points, like every other character--that seems to be the basis of all the relationships in DMBJ. But Liu Sang, not Xiao Bai, is the official “pretty person who is constantly in danger.”

Look 55 is Wu Xie’s weather station outfit, which features a strap-on leg bag that is personally trying to kill me with its sexy, sexy strap placement. One strap is around his delicious thigh and the other is worn directly above his junk low across his pelvis.

This look features a smooth light tan jacket with a high collar and hood, and large side-zip pockets. He wears it with a tan button-up shirt, jeans and his usual boots & gloves. His backpack has a bunch of useful-looking stuff tucked in and around it. I like the way the group always carries a lot of stuff and you see them digging things out of their gear when they need to. These are people who are comfortable living on the road.

This outfit is perfect for improbably spry tree scissoring climbing

This is also a good outfit for having a zoom call to introduce the newest member of your polycule to your long-distance collective boyfriend.

This outfit includes rain pajamas that go over the whole getup to protect it in a downpour, which is actually a pretty practical, if dorky, look.

The rain pajamas are perfect for when you decide to be a complete chowderhead and get hit by lighting.

This show has so many crustaceans improbable elements that I didn’t notice exactly what Wu Xie was doing, the first time around. What he’s doing is crouching inside a metal cage that is wired to a lighting rod on the roof.

90% of Xiao Ge’s live-saving moves with Wu Xie are probably just catching his eye and then slowly shaking his head, to prevent him from doing stupid shit like this.

Rather than dying, Wu Xie just gets a burn on his hand that can be easily treated with Nongfu Spring Water.

Bonus Look 1

This bonus belongs to villainous antique dealer Xue Wu, who continues to have excellent style with strong traditional Chinese elements. This casual soft shirt has an awesome dragon wrapping around the shoulders and over the chest and back.

The dragon’s head is accented with sequins that sparkle as Xue paces around in his lair office.

Bonus Look 2

This bonus is the adorable look on Bai Haotian’s face after she jokingly gives Wu Xie a teeny tiny scrap of swimsuit to wear, before admitting she brought a wetsuit for him.

I imagine the producers had this same laugh at the audience because they enjoy toying with us.

#zhu yilong #the lost tomb reboot #reunion: the sound of the providence #wu xie #dmbj #bai haotian #lost tomb lewks #canary3d-original #my gifs

108 notes · View notes

offtopicoverload · 4 years ago

Note

Howdy there!! Who are the li’s you fancy the most from LITG??

hi! thanks for the ask!

i honestly dunno who’s my top answer, cuz they’re all interesting in their own way

I’m only going to talk about female LIs cuz the only male routes I’ve finished are Bobby and Jake, and I tapped through most of Jake and only ended with Bobby on my first run cuz I never unlocked Marisol, so I’m not the best source lol

Talia:

She’s just so chill but has no problem standing up for MC, she has her back no matter what

Which, like, what a queen

She’s the original and only one of 4 LIs, which maybe it’s just me, but for a game based on an incredibly heteronormative reality show, allowing representation for queer audiences from launch is such a big deal and so cool to me, so Talia’s kind of special in my mind

She was also my first LI so nostalgia points

And she’s such an easy LI, not much drama on her route outside of Lucy, just her having MC’s back as the boys make themselves look like idiots

And she has so much potential, like I know some people think her only personality trait is fancying MC, which I mean, is a little fair, but there’s so many opportunities for her in fics and headcanons to develop the good amount of information we got on her in 13 days

I absolutely love how self-aware and confident she is

She just went for what she wanted, struggled a bit with commitment at first, because who wouldn’t, but after that it was smooth sailing

Like obviously what she said in the Beach Hut at the beginning of the season wasn’t great for MC, but she knew exactly what she wanted out of her time on the show

She was confident in herself and her sexuality so much so that she was just down to have a fling with a girl and not worry about how it would effect the show

And then she *coupled up* with that same girl, not even giving a shit about the rules or anything

A queen

Allegra:

I know she’s not an official LI, but her arc is what got me into writing so she gets a million points for that

I love what could have been done with her progression if she was given an actual route, I’m a sucker for some good enemies to lovers, but alas, she’s canonically a bad bitch with a lot of internalised homophobia yet enough confidence to ask MC out

I still love her

Marisol:

I know so many people hate her, and I get it, but I do really like her growth

Maybe it’s cuz I’m pretty analytical too, but her analyses never bothered me or anything, and now that I’ve played her route so many times, it’s pretty obvious that that’s a defense mechanism, and I understand that

She very much so has a “figure their weaknesses out before they have a chance to figure mine out” attitude, and I’m 99% positive it’s because of the ex that Elisa reminded her of

So not only has she been burned in the past, I’m willing to bet it was by the only woman she’s been in a serious relationship with

I really have no problem with her commitment issues, it’s understandable, and I can really empathise with her fear of coming out, it’s absolutely terrifying even if you’ve accepted it and bought a flag, saying the words can be really difficult

My biggest issue is her entitlement and immaturity, I guess?

Like her using Graham to make MC jealous just feels like an excuse to crack on with him and still have MC available for when she’s ready

I understand her being scared to couple up, but playing games to distract herself just made things with MC worse

And unless youre on her route, and sometimes even when you are, it’s clear to me that she expects things and has no problem saying what they are, but going after them is a problem?

Like her going after Lurik even though they don’t have a connection, or Gary even when he’s with Hannah

But then it never works and she gets sad and I melt because I’m weak

ALSO, can I just say how awful it is that Lucas and Henrik don’t pick her unless they have to???

Like cmon she deserves MC after that

And when they finally couple up? And she’s all soft? The GROWTH ohmygod

Anyway I love who Marisol became, maybe not everything she started out as, but definitely the person she ended the season as, more confident and self assured and willing to be vulnerable

It’s precious

Elisa:

I still haven’t done an Elisa route

I tried to a couple months ago, but dumping Marisol felt so cruel, what the hell was Fusebox thinking with that??

I do really like that they learned from their mistake though, even if they went in the opposite direction

From what I’ve seen of Elisa, she can be pretty sweet, I’ve seen her described as a Lucas-Bobby hybrid, and while that’s not the most interesting personality to me, I will say that she’s a really cool character that FB messed up on

Why did they make her a straight up villain???

And why ONLY her???

None of the other female LIs have been villains or had such a complete 180

Like her going from shouting at Chelsea, who is literally meant to be MC’s ride or die and the person outside of your LI that youre supposed to want to defend and avenge, to “i cant even sleep because im pining so hard”

I know the treatment of black women has been discussed before, specifically in regards to Hope and Erikah, and it is by no means my place to speak on it, but I definitely think something’s going on with Elisa

Anywayyyy, I love her archetype

The celebrity and influencer has so much potential, to the point that I wrote a one shot without even knowing her lmao

And she’s so confident in a way that’s so different from Marisol

She doesn’t even care if MC’s happily coupled up, she WILL get in her pants and I respect that

In conclusion, Fusebox did her dirty and I’m probably going to try and retcon some canon for her in the future

Lottie:

Ohmygod

Lottie

A goth babe

Lottie

Yeah, anyway, so I love her

Her growth is just unbeatable in my opinion

Yeah, she still has her flaws by the end of the season, but she went from ready to rip everyone’s throat out to biting her tongue around Hannah

And her and MC???

And the development between them???

Ugh

No matter what way you swing it, you’ve either got best friends to lovers or enemies to lovers and I adore both

And her aesthetic is one of my favourites, I’m alt myself and having a character like that is just so cool

My Runaways MC is a ball of sunshine with some hidden darkness specifically because Lottie’s such a dark cloud but can start shining with the right person, and that’s my absolute favourite trope

But man were the wedding episodes a cop out

Why couldn’t they give her the Noah treatment? Or the single treatment? Where they just get together after the show? Same with Hannah, why are they giving such an intense confession after who knows how long of literally nothing, like no communication even????

Don’t get me wrong, I kinda simultaneously love it for the angst and yearning, but it just… makes no sense?

So yeah, amazing bat lady that I seriously vibe with and wish my MC could have wifed up

Hannah:

I know this is a little controversial buuuut

I fucking love Hannah

But only OGHannah, Returning Hannah was butchered and I will never let that go

And it was such a toxic message too, that she needed to change herself and her appearance just to get a guy to like her?

Fuck that, Original Hannah was amazing and perfect exactly as she was

I love her trope, too, the naivety and how obvious and clear it was that she’s still learning about the world and relationships, to the point that it’s going to get her in trouble

And her obsession with fairy tales?

Fucking adorable ohmygod

I started a fic a while ago that I think I’m gonna scrap, that just indulged in the fairy tale metaphors and stuff because I just love how cute it is lmao

If she wasn’t dumped, I think she could have had amazing growth alongside Lottie, and their friendship/kinda, probably, most-definitely-if-MC’s-not-there-more-than-a-friendship growing together would have been so good

In an alternate reality Hope was dumped instead, and that helps me sleep at night

I firmly stand by the fact that Noah should have been the deciding factor between Hope and Hannah/MC, where Lottie said something that screwed with his head earlier in the day to make sure her friends were safe

Noah should have saved Hannah/MC and Hope should have returned with Rocco, hellbent on revenge and proving herself

That would have been so good for Noah stans and such good drama, that actually made perfect sense

Hope was fully expecting that she’d get picked by Noah because they’d spent three days attached at the hip and then to just… not have that happen. It would have driven her insane and if there was then a scene with MC where she just like, gives up

Like she’s spent the past two days grafting Noah but he won’t make up his mind and she’s just done and MC can comfort her or fight with her and you just get to humanize her make her vulnerable and hurting and I fucking WISH they did something like that, even for RHannah

And Hannah’s growth in the Villa would have been so amazing

I think her idea of a perfect guy is definitely too much, and I’m not advocating that she settles by any means, just that she could have learned that there are things more important than money

That conversation on day 1 where you choose between money, kindness, and intelligence still baffles me

Like why are you a gold digger Hannah?!?!

Why don’t you just want a Prince/ss Charming???

Her and Hope should have swapped and I don’t understand why they weren’t

I mean, I do really like Hope, but Hannah’s just so cute and has so much to learn and her struggling in the Villa just to have a lightbulb moment with MC would have been precious and now I want to write it dammit

Anyway, Hannah is adorable and had so much potential and she never should have returned if they were just going to scrap everything that made her Hannah, except for snooty literature

I wanna listen to her rattle on about Belle and Mulan and every other Disney Princess and what they meant for representation and progress in media and then compare them to their original stories like a dweeb and I would have melted on the spot

Like yes, please tell me more about how gruesome Cinderella is

She should have shown up at the finale and hugged MC and been innocent and sweet so I could have just lost my shit for like a half hour

But stan OGHannah, burn RHannah

AJ:

Adorable, precious, denied an arc outside of coming out

I am not exaggerating when I say that I cried at 4:30 in the morning at her blushing face when playing the first two days

It’s just so fucking cute and I’m a sap and I don’t know why it made me cry, but it did okay?!

And her coming out was such good representation!!! By far the best thing in Boat Party, and I’m so proud of the progress FB’s made in queer representation at the very least

I know she’s pretty one dimensional, but most of S3 is unfortunately

Her being available right off the bat was also such a win, I’m positive it’s the reason she had so many stans

If her and Yasmin had switched or her and Lily, they would have been the ones that were dominating Reddit polls and stuff

And I know she’s written as masc but I just can’t really see it? Like I can’t see her in a dress, but outside of a few clothing items, I guess I just can’t see it? Maybe androgynous is more the word for my image of her, like definitely a mix

She’ll wear a skirt under the right circumstances, but never a dress, a crop top with a flannel, her prom outfit that’s like a frilly jumpsuit, stuff like that? idk im not a lesbian

Her route for me was so glitchy, but I know that if MC’s stolen from her by Yasmin, Tai, or Ciaran, she has some really cute scenes and I wish I could have seen them

And I know some people were ragging on her for the eyelash at the end of the scene but I thought that was just a perfect callback - maybe it’s the writer in me

Basically, AJ’s adorable and why did Ciaran have to split her and MC up, not cool dude

Yasmin:

I forgot I was doing a Yasmin route a while ago, but from what I’ve seen and played, she’s really sweet

I hate that she’s almost nonexistent outside of her route

Give us a mysterious musician friend, you cowards!

I saw that she sings to MC on the final date and damn is that cute

Her eyeshadow kinda throws me off, but her stuffed animal makes up for it

And I’m salty that Yasmin the Lamb disappeared too, that was such a nice detail that made me start a Yasmin route

She’s distant and self-assured, but has a soft, gooey, nostalgic center and I wish we saw more of that, even if we weren’t on her route

My final thoughts on Yasmin: An artsy indie icon that I really need to stop getting distracted from and finish her route

Lily:

Again, don’t know much about her, but she seems really cool

Her shaving her head between the finale and Boat Party is such a flex and I wish she did it right before Boat Party so we could see her in all her bald glory

She’s into cars, right? And… architecture?

Idk, I barely remember my own name, let alone a 10 minute date from months ago

But I’ll definitely get around to doing her route at some point, maybe just to write for her, we’ll see

Elladine:

I know she’s not an LI, but MC so should have been able to run away with her

I missed that option in S3

I kinda get why they didn’t do that, but Boat Party’s just so messy in general

And I would include Genevieve here, but she’s so cute with Seb that I’d feel bad splitting them up

But Elladine had actual problems with Nicky!!!

Why did they mention it for it to never pay off??

And I’m so mad that the hype around her died when it was revealed she wasn’t an LI or the badass of the season, because I still adore how sweet she is

I also want to brag that before we got a name I was calling her Emma and that’s just on example of my almost psychic-ness

But yeah I wanted Ell to be a run away option and I’m salty that she wasn’t

Know what, fuck it, Viv too, she’s smart and cool as hell, let us love these awesome women FB, you cowards!!!

I have no idea who would be my number 1 based on canon, but if we’re talking hypotheticals, I think my answer, as strange as it is, is Hannah.

I just love what she could have been, but by no means what she is.

It’s so awkward to know her for three days, not see her for three weeks, then spend a couple more days with, a couple weeks at most, just for her to write a whole ass book about MC?? And tell her about it with that hair????

No thanks, I’ll stick with closeted sapphic horse girl nerd Hannah because I guess that’s somehow my type??? Oh god what the fuck I swear I’m not a total weirdo

#asks #can it kc #okay but im loving doing this they're so fun wtf #but thanks so much for the ask!!!!!#litg

13 notes · View notes

kiapet2 · 3 years ago

Text

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 6: PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN!

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: The big confrontation.

Chapter Warnings: Attempted Murder by and towards main characters, Neurotoxin, Not-Really-Unsympathetic Sides

The Control Chamber is large and dimly lit, cylindrical with a high ceiling. Hanging from the walls and in a circle from the ceiling are a collection of large screens, like you would see in a stadium. They flash through a series of images almost too quickly to follow: red theater curtains, a black hat, a courtroom, a two-headed snake, a lock with no key…

What really draws your eye, though, is the figure hanging from the ceiling, right in the center of the screens. It’s a massive form constructed of plastic, metal and hanging cables, gathered into a long body that moves with a sinuous grace as it turns to peer at you. At the end of the body is what you recognize as a Core, but one that differs significantly from the designs you’re used to. Where the others are formed of intricately interlocking metal pieces, this Core is one piece of sleek, jet black plastic, an unlidded yellow eye staring out at you with an alien gaze.

“So,” the AI says, “you’ve made it here at last.” His voice has changed, all pretenses of a robotic monotone dropped in favor of a smooth, sonorous drawl that sends shivers down your spine.

“No thanks to you,” Virgil spits.

“And you brought the whole group with you! Now what could I have possibly done to deserve such an honor?”

“Tried to kill me, for one,” you say, placing a hand on your hip and trying to seem casual and self-assured. Hurry up, Logan…

The AI gives a scandalized gasp. “Kill you? Now why would I ever do something like that?”

“Drop the act, villain!” Roman yells. “We know what you really are!”

The AI hums, sounding unconcerned. “I can’t help but notice that one of your number is missing. You wouldn’t happen be planning something, now would you?”

You laugh nervously. “What? No, we’re just here to talk.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Subject One,” the AI says. “Let’s stop with the stalling, shall we?”

There’s a hissing sound as vents open up in the walls, some sort of gas coming out.

“Don’t breathe that in!” Virgil hisses, and you back away from the steadily encroaching cloud, before your back hits the opposite wall. The gas keeps advancing, and your next breath tastes sickly sweet with it, making your head spin.

“Enjoying the neurotoxin?” the AI taunts. “It’s my own special recipe. I’m sure dear Patton is familiar.”

“Don’t do this, Ja-” Patton starts, before cutting off into static.

The AI lets out a deep, villainous chuckle. “Be sure to take in a nice, deep breath now, I’ve heard the toxin has lots of nice vitamins in it. If you live long enough to breathe it in, that is.”

That statement and the sound of machine parts clicking are your only warnings before a torpedo launches out of the AI’s mainframe, directly at you.

You throw yourself sideways, landing painfully on your side on the floor as the torpedo hits the wall and explodes behind you, showering you with bits of concrete or whatever substance this building is made of.

“What was that?” you yelp, scrambling to your feet. “What kind of science facility gives their AIs freaking torpedoes?!”

Your only response is another torpedo. This one you sidestep, watching as it again hits the wall behind you. That gives you an idea…

You shoot the blue portal behind yourself and the orange higher in the wall, then move to stand in front of the blue portal as the torpedo system targets you again, jumping out of the way of the ensuing missile.

Instead of flying through the portal, however, the torpedo runs straight into Remus, who apparently decided that it would be fun to follow you as you dodged the explosives.

“Remus!” Roman screams as his brother’s robotic body-frame explodes into scrap metal. For a moment your heart is in your throat as you search for telltale rounded parts in the scattered pieces, then you slump in relief as you see the Core himself rolling away from the carnage, giggling.

“Let’s do that again!” he cheers. “Can you build me a bigger body and then blow it up with an even bigger rocket?”

“Absolutely not,” the AI says. “Giving you arms and legs was a bad idea in the first place- too much opportunity for chaos.”

“Well whaddya know, he’s actually right about something for once,” Virgil snarks.

Another torpedo comes shooting out at you, and this time when you dodge it flies unhindered into the blue portal. You watch as the torpedo shoots back out of the orange portal, straight towards the AI. It connects with his long, sinuous body near the top, making the entire thing shake, and he falls limp.

“Did… did you just kill him?” Roman says in an awed whisper. Beside him, Patton whimpers. You swallow, staring at the motionless form of the AI in front of you, not knowing which outcome to hope for.

After what subjectively seems like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, the AI twitches back to life and straightens up.

“That was unpleasant,” he says. “But not as unpleasant as being hit by one would be for you, I expect. Shall we see who gives in first?”

You jump out of the way of another torpedo, which deploys harmlessly into the wall since you didn’t have time to set up another portal. You land awkwardly, and bite back a curse as your elbow smashes into the ground and sends a wave of pain up your arm. You just barely roll out of the way as a second torpedo follows almost on the tails of the first, the AI taking advantage of your momentary distraction from the pain.

You stumble as you roll to your feet, the combination of pain and neurotoxin making you unsteady. The AI was right; you don’t know how long you can keep this up.

Warning, Central Core is 80% corrupt, an automated voice announces, and your heart leaps in your chest with sudden hope.

“That’s funny, I don’t feel corrupt,” the AI says nonchalantly.

Alternate core detected, the voice says. To initiate a core transfer, please deposit substitute core in receptacle. A metal socket folds up out of the ground, clearly intended for the placement of said substitute Core.

Logan’s voice fills the room. The replacement process has been initiated and should be autonomous going forward. Follow the instructions carefully.

“Logan, you beautiful nerd!” Roman cries. You couldn’t agree more.

“So that’s your plan,” the AI hisses. “You little-”

I’m placing a timer on the screens for when the neurotoxin will reach potentially lethal levels, Logan says, and the screens surrounding the AI turn a light blue with a red timer counting down to the millisecond. It looks like you have around two minutes left.

I’m afraid I can’t do much more, Logan continues. Just follow the steps, and- He cuts off into static.

“Did you hear anything?” the AI says. “Such an echo in here, I swear.”

Two more torpedoes shoot out of his mainframe, and you dodge to the left, letting them be redirected through the portal behind you. They both hit, and as the AI once again goes limp you use the window of opportunity to cast a look around you for the nearest Core.

“Patton!” you say, spying the Core nearby. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Patton says with a forced cheer. Not having time for more confirmation than that, you run up and take him by the handles, pulling him off his rail, then run over to the receptacle thingy and carefully slot him in place.

Substitute Core accepted, the automated voice says. Substitute Core, are you ready to start the procedure?

“Oh, is that me?” Patton says nervously. “Uh, yes!”

Corrupted Core, are you ready to start the procedure?

Almost before the voice is done talking, the AI yells out, “No!”

Stalemate detected. Transfer procedure cannot continue...

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil shrieks. “What kind of crappy replacement system asks for permission from the Core it’s replacing?”

...unless a stalemate associate is present to press the stalemate resolution button.

“Oh dear,” the AI says, “you’re not a trained stalemate associate, are you? That’s too bad, it looks like this whole thing will just have to be cancelled.”

Another torpedo comes whizzing towards you. You don’t have time to shoot a portal behind you this time, so you just dart out of the way. Out of the corner of your eye you see a red button pop out of the ground- a small one, meant to be activated by hand rather than by cube- and you dart towards it.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” the AI admonishes, and several panels fold up from the ground, blocking your path. You try to dart around them, but more fold up as you go.

“Remember your portals!” Roman shouts.

Right. Portals. That’s a thing you have. You shoot one portal onto the wall on the other side of the button, then another directly below your feet. As soon as your feet hit ground again you’re running, too fast for the panels to react to your sudden relocation, and then the button is giving way beneath your hand.

Stalemate resolved, the automated voice says. Please stand clear of the transfer bay.

The others cheer and you turn with a grin, only to be interrupted by a chilling scream.

“Thomas!”

You look just in time to see a long, flexible metal tendril with a pincer claw at the end seize Patton and forcibly rip him out of the socket. Quicker than you can react, it retracts back down into the floor with Patton still wiggling in its clutches, and then it and Patton both are gone.

The mechanical voice announces, Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in sixty seconds.

You stare for a moment, frozen in shock as you try to process what just happened. The AI was holding that in reserve, you realize. If you’d known he had the ability to grab the others, you could have accounted for it, redirected torpedoes into the pincer arms or had Logan try to interfere remotely. But instead, he waited until you were distracted with the stalemate button- until your back was literally turned- and then made his move. And now your friend is gone.

Another voice shrieks your name, and you turn to see a torpedo streaking towards you, the AI once again having taken advantage of your distraction. You shift your weight and prepare to make a last-ditch dodge, but before you can, Roman comes flying in from the side.

“Roman, no!” you scream, but it’s too late. The torpedo glances off his round surface, veering off from you and exploding on the nearby wall. Roman goes flying, wrenched off his track, then bounces once and rolls into one of the holes in the floor created by the raised panels. You go sprinting over and stare down the hole, but all you can see is blackness. Wherever Roman fell, it’s too far for you to see.

A whistling in the air alerts you to another torpedo, and you frantically roll to the side. The torpedo hits where you just were, widening the hole Roman just fell through and littering you with shrapnel.

“You bastard!” you hear Virgil shout. You pull yourself up to a standing position, feel a sudden rush of dizziness at the motion and briefly sway on your feet.

“Feeling a bit poorly there?” the AI says faux-sympathetically. “That definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the neurotoxin you’ve been breathing this whole time. I’d keep up the exertion if I were you- it makes the toxin take effect even faster.”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in forty seconds.

You glance up at Logan’s timer and see that it has just under a minute left. You won’t have time to go through the stalemate process again if the transfer halts here, not before the neurotoxin kills you. You need to find someone else to replace the AI with, and you need to do it fast.

You spin in a circle, fighting down the dizziness as you do, looking for- there!

“Virgil!” you yell. “Virgil, I need you!”

Virgil’s eye widens as your gaze falls on him. “What?”

You run towards the Core, panting with exertion. “I need to put you at the head of the facility, come on!”

“No!” Virgil shouts, floating backwards and out of your reach. “Thomas, you can’t, you can’t put me in there, please!”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in thirty seconds.

You reach out, trying to outwardly project calm despite the panic racing through your body.

“Virgil, I know it’s scary, but there’s no one else!”

Virgil floats even further backwards, his parts audibly clattering as he shudders. “I- I’m sorry, maybe if I can find Roman fast enough...”

“Virgil, wait!” you scream as the Core flies down the hole Roman fell into and disappears.

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in twenty seconds.

“Well,” the AI says, “I think this foolishness is just about finished. Honestly, did you really think your little half-baked plan was actually going to work?”

You can barely hear it over the pounding in your own ears. This can’t be it! You can’t have fought your way through all the trials, can’t have had your friends believe in you for so long, only to die here. There has to be some way-

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in ten seconds.

A high-pitched cackle follows the announcement. You and see Remus muttering gleefully, his green eye spinning in circles within his battered frame.

“How do you think he’s gonna kill us, huh? Will he smash us flat, blood and guts and jagged metal all strewn across the floor? Will he drop us? How long do you think we’ll fall for, how will it feel when we hit the ground? Clatter-squish!”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in five seconds.

You don’t have time to think. You seize Remus by both handles and with a gutteral cry slam him down into the receptacle.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The AI says, distorting with volume. “Thomas, don’t-”

Substitute core accepted. Substitute core, are you ready to start the procedure?

“What?” Remus shrieks, sounding genuinely rattled for the first time since you’ve met him.

“Say yes!” you yell desperately. “I’ll help you figure it out, Remus, just say yes!”

“Uh, yes!” Remus says.

Acceptance verified. Resuming transfer.

“You idiots!” the AI yells. “You absolute, blithering idiots! What have you- wait, no! No no no n-aAAaAaaAaAah-”

The bot’s screams turn distorted and desperate as metal appendages seize the core at the end of his robotic body and begin pulling it down towards a circular hole in the floor as walls come up and shield it from view. A similar scream sounds behind you, and you turn to see the receptacle that holds Remus also sinking into the floor.

Your heart pounds. Is that supposed to happen? Logan said the process wouldn’t hurt them, right?

Both cores disappear below the floor. For one heart-pounding second, it is silent. Then, the walls around the hanging robotic form retract back into the ground, and-

“WOOOOOOO!” Remus shrieks, the snake-like body rearing up to reveal his familiar round, green-eyed form where the black-and-yellow Core once was. “Boy, that’s a rush!”

“Remus?” you say, heart still pounding so loudly you can hear it. “You- you’re good? You’ve got it?”

“Fuck yes I do!” Remus crows, spinning around like a top in his perch. “Check it out!”

As you watch, the wall panels around you begin to flip and move, forming abstract patterns. It’s strangely mesmerizing, and your heart finally starts to slow from its adrenaline-fueled patter.

“You idiots,” a familiar voice says, and you look down to see the black core lying on the ground, its yellow eye glaring straight at you. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

“Aww, lighten up, Jan-Jan!” Remus says, bending down to peer at him. “It’s about time we switched things up around here, it was getting booooooooooooring. Ooh, I’m gonna make some mashy-spike-plates! Can’t go wrong with mashy-spike-plates!”

“Uh,” you say, “Maybe before you do that, we should, y’know, find the others?”

“Oh come on, Thomas, at least give me some time to have fun!” Remus says as the wall and ceiling continue to shift, smooth walls now being replaced with ones that have disconcertingly sharp points.

“Remus,” the AI snaps, “stop playing around where you don’t belong and put me back!”

All the activity in the room halts, wall tiles freezing in place.

“Playing around where I don’t belong?” Remus says lightly. “Right, because a corrupted core can’t be trusted to run this place, right? Gotta get Roman and his dull white-bread ideas up in here, cause that’s so much better.”

The AI huffs. “You know that’s not-”

“Nuh-uh,” Remus says, “My talking time.”

Several metal appendages rise from the floor- long, flexible metal tubes with grabby claws at the end, like the one the AI used to grab Patton. One of them reaches down and plucks the black and yellow Core off the ground, holding him in front of Remus and tilting him side to side, as if Remus were inspecting a bug.

“Y’know, Janny, I feel like you need a change. That old plastic thing is so last decade, know what I mean? Hey, remember when you said I had the processing power of a potato battery? That was funny! And it gives me an idea.”

The AI only has time to get out a final, “Remus-” before a metal tendril comes out of the circular opening below Remus and drags the Core back in.

“And Thomas,” Remus says, turning his green gaze on you, “Don’t think I didn’t notice how I was your dead last choice.”

Your stomach tightens in sudden fear. “I didn’t mean-”

Remus cackles, the sound reverberating off the walls and assaulting your eardrums.

“Naw, I’m not too torn up about it, I know me. But once you find the others it’s only a matter of time before you decide I’m just too dangerous and unpredictable to stay. So I think I’ll have some fun, while it lasts.”

The circular opening below Remus makes a little ding, and the metal appendage that had pulled in the black and yellow Core pops back out, holding- is that a potato?

“Voila!” Remus says with a flourish of one of his grabby-arms. “One potato battery. I dunno Janny-poo, I think it’s an upgrade!”

A yellow light flashes from the potato battery’s circuits.

“Are you done?” It’s the AI’s voice, sounding tinny because of the potato’s speaker quality, and sounding sardonic because of the potato’s occupant.

“Not quite!” Remus says cheerily. “Hey Tommy-boy, catch!”,

The metal hand tosses the potato at you, and you fumble with the portal gun, trying to get one hand up to catch it, before the potato smacks you in the face with a thump and falls to the ground.

“Ow,” the potato says.

You duck as more metal appendages pop out of the ground and start slamming the top of the elevator, making it shudder. You look below you, through the clear bottom of the elevator, and see only blackness. You don’t know what’s at the bottom of this shaft, and you don’t particularly want to find out.

“I’ll see you in the testing chambers!” Remus says cheerfully as another metal arm slams down onto the elevator.

“Remus, wait-” you yell, then lurch and catch yourself on the side of the elevator another big bang makes the whole thing tilt. Spider web cracks form on the glass floor below you, making your heart rise into your throat.

“Ta-ta, Thomas!” Remus calls. “If you survive this, we’re going to have so much fun together!”

There’s one more big, jarring impact, and then the glass elevator floor gives out from under you, sending you careening down into the dark.

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

1 note · View note

wardenrainwall · 4 years ago

Text

Day 4 (thwarted by a sledgehammer) 5 Words: 2,055 (9,776 Total) Pairing: Blackwall/Original Character Rating: General Summary: Eloise, a modern girl in Thedas, shares a moment with Blackwall when he returns after weeks away.

(probably not posting this one over on ao3 - I’m not a fan of the single ‘story’ with multiple chapters that are all one shots. Because the wall of tags always makes me cross-eyed. But I also feel weird posting potentially 30 separate one shots. either way, it’ll probably get the same number of reads)

Hair damp and fresh from the bathhouse, Blackwall made his way along the well-worn path to the gathering space where he knew he would find her. He could see the warm glow of the fire, hear the soft chatter of voices and nearby someone plucked at a lute. He scanned the people, those sitting by the fire, and the ones milling about. Then he saw her, head bent to the pile of fabric in her lap, intent on her task. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, but strands fell forward, brushing against her cheek.

A small smile played over her lips and he closed the distance to where she sat alone on the wooden bench. She didn’t look up, focused on those tiny stitches that made his eyes cross. “Wife,” he said and Maker’s balls, it felt good to say. He’d regret it, he had no business making the claim. But that day when he’d seen her flanked by a soldier and Leliana’s scout, the threat to her life a very real thing, he had stepped forward and the words had simply spilled from his lips.

“Husband,” she replied, slipping the needle into the fabric and leaving it there as she lifted her head to peer up at him. Warm brown eyes glinted in the firelight and her hair no longer the moss green he remembered, but now a rich shade of blue.

Blackwall had seen her, half a dozen times for months after he’d joined the Inquisition. Standing at the edge of a rock outlook, tears on her cheeks. Sitting beneath a tree in the Hinterlands, sewing much as she was now. A glimpse of her at the edge of a battlefield. Each time he’d seen her, he’d been drawn to her. An almost tangible pull. As if there were a string connecting them.

And each time he’d seen her, he’d watched her vanish. Not simply run away, or hide. She’d disappeared. One second there, real enough to touch, and then, gone. The only sign she’d been real were the footprints in the snow.

“This woman has been seen multiple times, near several of our camps.” They suspected she was a spy for Corypheus.

Leliana moved closer, a dangerous glint in her eye. “And why is that?”

The woman’s lips parted, no sound came out, but then her eyes flicked beyond Leliana, and the small gathered crowd to meet his. “She was looking for me,” Blackwall stepped forward, felt every head turn to look at him, but he kept his eyes on her as he closed the distance, wondering if she would disappear again.

“She is my wife.” The story, the lie, had been so easy. He felt he’d gotten far too good at lying. But a story of an impulsive elopement, before he’d abandoned her hadn’t even raised any brows.

Ah, very well then, that explained it. Then Josephine had discreetly asked if his wife would be sharing his quarters and he knew that he should say now. Give the woman her own space, but he hadn’t. “She’ll stay with me,” he confirmed.

That had been months ago, and while he woke every morning certain she’d disappear again, he always felt a strange relief to see her face. “What are you working on?” he asked, sinking down onto the bench beside her.

“Oh, it’s a new tunic for Seeker Pentaghast,” she told him. “Do you think she’ll like it?” she held up the article of clothing for him to see. It was a simple tunic, but it was decorated with a pretty bit of trim around collar, cuff, and hem. The jealousy that kindled in his chest was absurd and he knew it.

“I think she will,” he said because he knew he would like the gift. “Where did you find this?” he reached out, a fingertip touching the inch wide trim Eloise had been in the process of sewing on.

Eloise hummed quietly, folding the fabric back into her lap and making sure that the needle was secure before she tucked it away into the little basket she carried everywhere. She produced a scrap of the same trim, though it wasn’t as smooth, and it looked as if the pattern had been warped. “I made it, it was a pain in the ass though. I don’t have my cards, and I had to make it in sections because I couldn’t make a piece long enough without the loom.”

“You made this?” he asked and she waved a dismissive hand.

“I needed something to do,” Eloise said with a shrug, she held her hand out to take the scrap that had not turned out particularly nice. Blackwall seemed reluctant to give it back, but finally, he laid the piece in her hand and his fingers brushing her palm caused a pleasant shock of sensation to shoot up her arm. “How was Crestwood?” she asked, undeniably grateful that he was back.

She didn’t know why it had happened, couldn’t explain it, and a part of her was aware of the impossibilities of it all, and knew that more than likely, she’d had a complete mental break down from reality or maybe she’d been in an accident and was in a coma in some hospital. Each time before, when she’d found herself in this strange place, she’d told herself it wasn’t real. A hallucination brought on by grief, stress and so little sleep.

And every time she’d done that, she’d find herself back in the real world. Only, that last time, she hadn’t. She would have, caught between two strong soldiers, with the realization that they might kill her when Blackwall had spoken up. It was him. He was the one she always saw when she ended up in this place.

“Cold, wet and full of corpses,” he told her and she shuddered, drawing her woolen cloak tighter around her shoulders.

“That sounds… dreadful.”

He made a quiet sound and looked into the fire. “Want a drink?” he offered.

“Oh,” Eloise reached down, flicking her skirts aside, to reveal the large mug at her feet. “I had just refilled it before you arrived. You’re welcome to it.” She’d already had two mugs of the sweet honey mead. But now that Blackwall was back, she didn’t feel the need to drink a third.

“You sure?” he asked, reaching down to wrap a hand around the simple wooden cup. Eloise smiled a little, inclined her head and he drank. They sat there for a while longer, Blackwall telling her of the things that had happened in Crestwood.

Wrinkling her nose at his vivid description of the walking, fighting corpses, Eloise couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her. “I think I’ll have nightmares now.”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” he frowned and she reached out, rested her hand against his arm, and told him it was fine. “It’s going to snow,” Blackwall said a little while later. “We should head back, it’s late.”

It was, and the fire was starting to die down, other people were retreating to their own homes and quarters. Eloise let Blackwall take her basket while she drew her wrap tighter around her shoulders. When he offered her his arm, she didn’t hesitate. “I’m still undecided how I feel about all this snow,” she said as they walked, her toes had grown cold, along with her fingers. She missed electricity and heaters and electric blankets.

“You didn’t get much snow where you’re from?” he asked and Eloise shook her head.

“No, cold and wet,” she laughed a little. “Maybe a bit like Crestwood? Lots of rain, but not much snow.”

She felt him shudder beside her. “I’ll take snow over never feeling dry any day.” Blackwall pushed open the door to their small one-room cabin. It was dark save for the glow of the banked fire. After setting down her basket he went immediately to build up the fire, while Eloise shook out her cloak and hung it on the peg near the door. She took off her shoes and wiggled her toes. “Come sit by the fire,” he said, and not about to argue, she padded over, her feet sinking into the plush rug that lay in front of the hearth.

Two chairs sat there, they didn’t match and one was far more padded and comfortable than the other. Blackwall had made it very clear from the beginning which was hers. She sunk down into it and stretched her legs out, desperate for the warmth of the fire. She shivered, unsure how long she’d actually been sitting out there. It was her usual routine.

Eloise enjoyed the company of the other villagers, and when Blackwall wasn’t there she felt a strange restlessness. A constant worry in the back of her mind that she would wake up from this dream and be back in that quiet empty house, all alone. Staring into the flames, she heard Blackwall moving around the small space and blinked in surprise when he held a glass of amber liquid in front of her face. “Oh,” she blinked again, then reached up at took it. “What’s bothering you?” he asked, with another glass in his other hand. He sunk down on the rug in front of her but angling himself so that his broad shoulders wouldn’t block the heat from the fire. He took a sip, set it on the hearth, and then reached out, one big hand cupping both her feet to draw them up and rest against his thigh before he began rubbing his thumb along the bottom of her foot.

Sipping the whiskey, Eloise let out a soft sigh of pleasure. “Your toes are like ice, we need to get you some thicker stockings.” He scowled and Eloise’s lips curved. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Blackwall said, lifting his head to look up at her while he continued his delightful ministrations. “Are you homesick?”

Eloise took another sip of the whiskey, glad for the warm burn that trailed down her throat. “No, not so much,” she had nothing truly to miss. Her entire world had revolved around her father for the last decade, and his death had left her bereft. “I’m glad you’re back,” she finally said, then after a beat. “I missed you.”

She’d blame the heat the warmed her cheeks on the whiskey until her dying day as Blackwall looked up at her, his gaze so intense that it caused a fluttering low in her belly. “You dyed your hair,” he said and some of that warmth dissipated.

Blackwall had never told her why he’d claimed her as his wife that day, and sometimes she wondered if he regretted it. Because surely, he didn’t feel the same undeniable pull that she felt. They had shared one hot, impassioned kiss against the walls of Haven before she had panicked and found herself back in her bedroom in the house she grew up in.

But in the months she’d been at Skyhold, living in his cabin, he’d barely touched her, and there definitely hadn’t been any more kisses. He went so far as to sleep on the floor while she slept in the bed. That was only when he was there, he was often gone for weeks at a time with the Inquisitor.

Reaching up to finger a lock of her hair she twisted it. “Black currents,” she said. “It turned out better than I expected and covered that dreadful green that was beginning to look like patches of mold on bread.”

“I like it,” he said and that warmth expanded ten-fold inside her. “Tell me something,” he said, laying her foot back against his thigh and taking up the other to continue the massage that was doing wonders to warm up her toes.

“About?” she asked.

“The moving pictures,” he said and she smiled. He had believed her when she’d found herself telling him everything. How at first she’d thought it was time-travel, which was impossible, though he’d reassured her it wasn’t, and Dorian and the Inquisitor knew first hand just how real it was. Then she’d explained that she wasn’t from Thedas or any part of their world. That she didn’t know how or why it had happened, but there she was. And Eloise was more than happy to stay.

#dragon age #blackwall #blackwall x oc #modern girl in thedas #meraadwrites

11 notes · View notes