#drew is having an identity crisis again but what else is new

[rallamajoop]

Resident Evil 6: When a franchise has an identity crisis

I can’t tell you RE6 is a better game than RE5, but if nothing else, it’s a far more interesting failure.

RE6 is famously the game that tried so hard to appeal to everyone that it wound up appealing to no-one: overlong, overproduced and utterly OTT. RE5 left the franchise at a crossroads: the previous two games were huge successes, but drew criticism for straying from the series’ horror roots. Faced with the choice of doubling down on the new direction or diverting back towards something more survival horror, Capcom attempted to do both, at once, and then some.

The new RE6 would have three different main campaigns (Chris & Piers, Leon & Helena, and Jake & Sherry), all aimed at different markets, plus a fourth which would unlock only after the previous three were completed, which was to be different again. It would have something for everyone! Provided ‘everyone’ wanted a co-op shooter experience with ALL the explosions, or was prepared to play through three different extended co-op experiences just to unlock the one that was kinda more designed to be played solo. Completing that fourth campaign would also be essential to ever finding out what the fuck was going on during those first three. How could that go wrong?

RE6 is, in other words, exactly what happens when a franchise has an identity crisis.

Experienced purely on the level of plot and cutscenes, RE6 remains hard to rate overall because while there are parts of this game I genuinely enjoyed in a way nothing in RE5 could boast, so many other parts of were legitimately uncomfortable to sit through, and in ways owing less to effective horror than to gratuitous, ugly misery porn.

Watch, as these bit characters you barely know die in horrible, gruesome ways in front of people who care about them! Watch! As Helena is finally reunited with the infected sister she committed treason to save, just in time to watch her beloved Deborah transform into a horrific butt-naked-lady monster who will spend the ensuing boss fight posing sexily while her tits show off their jiggle physics! It’s so traumatic for poor Helena, you have no idea!

Watch! As Chris reaches desperately for the outstretched fingers of StarryEyed McNewKid in the final seconds before his body erupts into a monster cocoon! Chris, dude, how long have you been in this business? He’s not falling off a rooftop, Chris! Grabbing his hand is not going to help!

It would all be hilarious if it wasn’t also all so skin-crawlingly unpleasant. There’s something uniquely gross about how these scenes play out, and largely not in the fun way.

With all four campaigns down, the big secret behind devastating bio-terror outbreaks in three different locations around the world turns out to be that some member of the Actual Illuminati gets Big Mad that Ada Wong won’t put out, and converts a loyal scientist (Carla) into an Ada-clone, who promptly sets out to end the world in a fit of clone-angst. There’s a bit more going on in some of the individual campaigns – Illuminati Dude also sets up a plot to kill the US president so he can’t reveal the truth about Raccoon City (whatever that means), then frames Leon and Helena for it. He’s also sent Sherry out to find Wesker’s son, whose blood may be the one cure for their latest alphabet-virus, Sherry little realising who she’s really working for. And the real Ada’s around too – you can tell her apart by how the clone doesn’t wear enough red to be the real deal.

Among the many problems with this game are that Illuminati Dude and clone!Ada are our only real villains, and neither are up to the franchise standard. Ada is just too well-established a character to work as the kind of villain who just wants-to-watch-the-world-burn – you can see the twist coming long, tiring hours before it hits. And Simmons (Illuminati Dude) just does not have any of the personality that makes people remember villains like Wesker or Salazar. There is some impressive creature design in this game – some of the boss monsters are far more memorable than the villains. But by this stage of franchise-transformation, your base level infected-enemy is just a generic guy with a machine gun and maybe an extra couple of eyes up close. It's a military shooter with occasional monsters, expecting you to mow down mooks without stopping for breath.

Speaking of military shooters, Chris has a campaign too, but for the life of me I could not tell you anything in it that matters to anyone else. He runs around a few locations, he fights a lot of monsters, completely fails to stop a missile launch, and loses people in the field. In the wake of RE5, the new game has honed in on the one defining feature of Chris’ character, Man With Lots Of Feelings About Losing People In The Field, and doubled down. Chris loses a lot of people in the field in this game.

The four campaigns in this game are separate enough that I’m going to talk about them that way, so let’s start with Chris.

Chris and Piers

Like the franchise as a whole, Chris is in the midst of his own identity crisis. Is running from place to place, fighting monsters and losing so many people in the field really his whole life now? Yes, Chris. Yes, it is. I don’t know what else to tell you.

As much shade as this game gets for not being proper horror, there’s a case to be made that Chris’ campaign is absolutely a horror story, just one about the specific horrors of toxic masculinity. Aww, Chris, are you having an alcohol-fuelled, amnesic breakdown after traumatically losing your whole team in the field? You think maybe you could use some therapy, some downtime? Well fuck you, Chris, what you need is for the one survivor of your big fuck-up to come yell at you, drag your amnesic ass back to base and give you a whole new team. Then you can go lose them all in the field again, this time down to the very last man, so you can learn how to be a fucking man about it! MEN DON’T GET TO HAVE FEELINGS!!

Chris persists in having feelings nonetheless, mostly rage and denial. By the end game, poor Chris is about half a breakdown away from the point where he could see his whole team smeared into a bloody pulp, and would still have to be dragged away screaming “noooooo we can still save them!!!” The sheer hilarity can only temper the misery so far.

Watch as Chris solemnly retrieves the C4 cartridge that is all that was left of the last (non-playable) survivor of the second team he’s lost this game, which game text will dutifully label as Marco’s C4. Watch the sadness in Chris’ eyes as he slaps it onto a door and blows it open! (That was Marco’s C4, Piers! He loved that C4! He took it everywhere with him! Now it’s as burned and blackened as he is!)

If you’re here for testosterone poisoning, Chris and Piers’ campaign is here for you. Up to this point in the series, one of Chris’ few vaguely-distinguishing features was how many women there were in his life, and how he generally managed not to be weird about that – Jill, Claire, Sheva, even Rebecca. In RE6, Chris is a man’s man in a man’s world, full of men – no lady partners around to slow down this Redfield!

Chris interacts with all of three women in the whole game, and is one of those is him telling a barmaid ‘Listen, sweetheart, you’re here to pour drinks and look pretty’ when she tries to cut him off during his drunken-amnesic opening sequence. Chris spends the rest of the game hunting clone!Ada after she gruesomely murders his first team in front of him. He never gets his final showdown with her. He never finds out she’s a clone. But he sure does get into a big punch-up with Leon when Leon has the gall to suggest they need to bring “Ada” in alive, not in a body bag (the clone herself slips away while they’re still arguing).

Chris does manage to be nicer to Sherry, at least, but his biggest interaction with Jake is similarly testosterone-laden. If you play these campaigns in their intended order, you’ll have the big Wesker-junior-reveal exposed for you in other people’s dialogue long before you’ll ever see Jake find out for himself. Chris decides this means he absolutely has to let Jake know that I Killed Your Father at the first possible opportunity, never mind that the lives of millions could hang on whether he and Jake can get on long enough to get out alive. He and Jake very nearly come to blows over it.

It’s all so ridiculous that even Piers calls him out on it; Chris simply insists that Jake “had a right to know.” Sure, but why now? For which matter, why would Jake suddenly care about the death of the evil, asshole deadbeat he hates so much? Oh, let’s not kid ourselves, it’s all because the writers wanted their big, tense, manly, “I killed your daddy!”-confrontation, and were going to shoehorn it in at any cost.

And yet, for all the bullshit that is Chris’ manly, manly campaign, I can’t completely hate it, because there’s this one bit at the end where Piers injects himself with a virus in a desperate moment, and promptly grows a giant mutant arm that shoots lightning. Like, if you are playing as Piers, you get to wield his mutant lightning arm through the remaining combat scenes.

The game even throws up a bunch of lightning-destructible barriers after the big boss battle just to give you more to do with it. I mean, how can you not love a thing like that? It’s amazing.

More importantly, why the fuck is there not more use of Piers’ horrifying lightning-shooting monster-arm in Chris/Piers fanfic? Do you all not see how 100% DTF Chris would be if he thought it had even a chance of helping convince Piers his monster-arm wasn’t so bad and he didn’t need to nobly stay behind to die? You can’t experience this game and tell me this isn’t the moment Chris has been building up for the whole damn campaign! Am I going to have to write monster-fucker!Chris myself?

Ahem.

Leon and Helena

Leon’s campaign does not start in a bar, comfortably far from the action. It starts in a presidential office, where Leon is already pointing a gun at the zombified PotUS, who is even now eating another victim.

“Don’t make me do this!” Leon begs, demonstrating that Chris has absolutely set the standard for seasoned-pros-still-living-in-absurd-denial that we can expect from everyone in this mad game. Leon, c’mon – wake up and smell the decomposition! Fuck, your boss is so far gone already they can probably smell him from the building next door!

Leon seems to be working presidential security, but he can’t be doing a very good job, considering that not only has the president been zombified on his watch, there’s a woman with a drawn firearm standing next to him in the president’s presence, and (in one of many record-scratch moments) we’re about to find out Leon hasn’t a clue who she is. Other games might have spent some time leading up to this moment, establishing how Leon, Helena and the ex-pres all got into this position. They might even have given us a scene or two to set up Leon’s relationship with said president, a man whose death has apparently been so traumatic that Leon’s forgotten everything he ever knew about zombies (and take note that this isn’t even Ashley’s-dad-the-president, it’s apparently some completely new guy, so even franchise vets are coming in blind). But not RE6! RE6 gives us a few seconds of flashback-montage right before Leon pulls the trigger, and gets right back to its regular schedule of misery porn.

Helena mutters, “It’s all my fault!” but refuses to elaborate in any way until they reach this cathedral on the other side of town (naturally hiding some kind of biotech lab facility) where it will all become clear. It takes a long time to get to the cathedral, however, because there’s a zombie outbreak in progress, and Leon and Helena keep stopping to watch people die.

There’s a man who wants help looking for his daughter! “We don’t have time!” says Helena. “We’ll make time!” says Leon. Well, they sure do make time to watch that newly-zombified daughter eat her father in a horrific scene. Yay! Later, they find a security feed showing a couple of helpless civilians desperately waving “HELP” signs at a security camera, like there’s going to be anyone checking security feeds in the midst of the zombie apocalypse. Leon watches the feed. The civilians persist in waving signs in one of those awkward video-game animation cycles. Leon watches some more. The signs wave some more. Finally, “we should go help them!” says Leon, as zombies show up to eat everyone present. Helena points out it may be a little late. It’s all so hilarible it hurts.

There’s no good reason why Helena can’t explain anything until they get to the cathedral. All she needs to say is that she’s a federal agent whose sister was taken hostage to force her to cooperate with the villains responsible for the president’s death, and who've been making bioweapons in a secret lab under the cathedral. You could question why a major bio-terror outbreak was necessary for one little act of political assassination, but because this is the Resident Evil universe, any evil worth doing is worth doing with zombies.

You could question exactly what Helena was forced to do, but the game isn’t interested in any of that logical plot stuff. You could question exactly why whatever the president was about to reveal about Raccoon City was worth a political assassination, but the game isn’t interested in politics either. We’re going to the cathedral! It’ll all be much easier to explain there! (It won’t be, we’re not here to explain anything.)

It doesn’t really get better from here. Leon’s campaign is, in short, an epic mess. But I can’t completely hate it, because despite all the bullshit material he’s working with, I am kind of into this take on Leon. This is a Leon who’s older, cooler and more sophisticated, and it just gets me something ridiculous. I’ve seen complaints from fans of the original RE4 who weren’t happy he’s more serious and has less goofy one-liners, which is probably fair – Leon still gets some good ones in, but Jake is hoarding most of the real one-liners in this game, and Leon does come across kind of absurdly over-earnest in a lot of early scenes. He's not going to be to everyone's taste.

But frankly, I’ll take this Leon over RE4’s any day. He feels so much closer to the version in the new games I fell for so hard (and not just because he can actually work with women without being weird about it). He also looks amazing in a suit and still has great chemistry with (real) Ada, and good god, they should just run away together already, those combined genetics would produce the coolest babies imaginable, you just try and tell me they wouldn’t!

And, y'know, sue me, but I kinda liked Helena too. I could do without the police-brutality backstory that she gets in documents, but she's a woman who has fucked up big time, who knows it, and is trying to make up for it, and that kind of complicated tends to be what gives me most of my female faves in this franchise.

Jake & Sherry

Much as I enjoyed Leon and Helena though, their campaign at large is still a pretty miserable slog. And having already sat through two long campaigns of indifferent misery porn, I can’t tell you what a breath of fresh air it was it reach Jake and Sherry’s story and realise, oh my god, I’m actually having a good time! They’re actually having some fun together! They have such great chemistry! Jake even has an actual character arc where he looks back on his life with new eyes and real drive to become a better person! Did I accidentally switch to a whole different game?

Jake (aka Wesker Junior) is the kind of character who shouldn’t work: an above-it-all edgelord mercenary asshole who sounds like everything wrong with this game in a nutshell. His reaction to discovering he might be carrying the cure to a zombie plague is to cheerfully put a price on his own blood in the millions. And yet, he’s refreshingly not awful to Sherry, quickly get attached to her and develops a great dynamic, and he’s young enough that he’s out of his depth a lot in the world of bio-terrorism, and not too uptight to admit it.

Finding out his father was none other than Wesker prompts some serious self-reflection, but we’re not going to watch him spend the rest of the game angsting over it, and even through all the horror he mostly seems to be having a good time. Jake’s great.

My only serious complaint about this campaign is that it’d be nice if they’d given Sherry a little more personality beyond being Jake’s no-nonsense handler. I like that she’s grown up from rescued-little-damsel into trusted agent, that she’s competent and comfortable enough with the world of bio-terror that nothing really fazes her (even if the game does get a little patronising about having Jake tackle her out of danger repeatedly), but she’s stuck being the straight-man to Jake’s wilder personality, and that’s just a bit disappointing.

For someone whose parents were neglectful Umbrella scientists responsible for throwing her into a world of horrific childhood trauma, Sherry comes across like she’s never questioned an authority figure in her life since, and that just doesn’t ring true to me. But at least she and Jake get to have friendly interactions with Leon and Helena, because god knows Chris and Piers can't ever be invited to a group cutscene without one of them having to hold the other back.

I can’t say whether I’d have enjoyed Jake’s storyline nearly so much had I not suffered through Chris and Leon’s first, but Jake’s feels like a far more complete story than either of the previous – and there’s a refreshing lack of stopping-to-watch-people-die-horribly. I don’t feel like I’m missing a preceding act’s worth of set-up, and clone!Ada has a smaller role, so the fact Sherry and Jake never find out what her deal is doesn’t feel like it leaves their story critically unfinished.

Which brings us to Ada’s campaign.

Ada

So here’s where we learn that the Ada in the purple dress is a clone created by that one Illuminati Dude she ghosted after he got too clingy. And by ‘we learn’ I mean ‘just the real Ada learns’, because god knows Chris and Leon never find out – and one can only imagine the kind of furious arguments they’re going to have over Ada’s character, motives, and whether she’s even alive or not after the events of the game. Even Ada only finds out her clone exists because the clone insists on trying to best her original, in that classic clone-angst way.

I have such conflicted feelings about Ada’s portrayal in this game. I’d like to be able to enjoy how unflappably cool she is, even when faced with evidence that the Literal Illuminati may be trying to make her the scapegoat for the apocalypse. But the reality is that Ada flaps so little she’s utterly one-note here – like, if you thought the RE4 remake Ada was a little limited in range, RE6 is exactly that, only more so, for much longer. Surely she should at least be annoyed that someone with Chris’ connections thinks she’s directly responsible for major bio-terror outbreaks in multiple countries? A little flap or two would go an awful long way here.

The most memorable part of Ada’s campaign is her final showdown with Carla, her clone – who mutates into a monster so huge and horrific that she basically becomes the whole battle stage, and it’s fantastically creepy and fucked-up (in a way I can actually enjoy, for a change). But most of the rest of Ada’s campaign is her wandering through her scheduled appearances in other characters’ stories, and there’s just not much of interest going on there. Time to fight all those same bosses that keep coming back over and over again!

A lot of what makes RE6 ultimately so unsatisfying is that in the end, thousands or millions of people have died around the world because of what amounts to bullshit illuminati infighting, well beyond the ken of any of the heroes running around the edges doing damage control. Even when Chris finally catches up with the Ada clone, it’s only to see her shot down by mysterious men in a black helicopter who just fly away out of the story again as inexplicably as they entered.

The clone’s not dead, of course – she gets right back up again in time for her boss fight with Ada. There’s no need for the helicopter in this scene at all – letting the Ada clone throw herself off the rooftop without being shot would have served the same narrative purpose. But throwing in an Illuminati drive-by shooting sure does underline how little real agency any of the heroes really have, when the world can be brought to the brink of a bio-terror apocalypse because one rich, white man couldn’t deal with the fact a woman said no to him.

No-one other than Ada even seems interested in the real truth: no-one asks who was flying the helicopter, or ends their campaign with any ‘time to get the rest of those Illuminati bastards’-declaration. Had RE6 been a smash-hit success, I don’t doubt that some kind of get-the-Illuminati plot would have come up in the sequel, but as it stands, Chris and Leon seem unbothered by being mere pawns in the schemes of the unknowably powerful. That’s not much of a happy note to end on.

In the end, the best thing about RE6 is that its reception was so tepid that it led directly to the IP being almost completely reinvented for RE7. And without a trainwreck on the scale of RE6, that might not have happened.

For all the parts of this story I like enough to wish they’d appeared in a better game, it’s hard to call RE6 any kind of success. But it’s at least an interesting failure – a fascinatingly awful trainwreck of an experience – and that’s at least something worth talking about.

[thetruscumsiren]

I know no one really likes when I do this but I’m sick and I’m not really thinking clearly and I wanna ramble

Why is it so difficult to change? I’m in one of those moods where I just want to shave my head and do the things I want. The things that make me happy. I want to run around and be reckless just to give it a try. I’ve always done as I was told, always tried to be what everyone else wanted. I’ll get into these moods where I viciously want to fight back.

But the thing is...I can’t. I’m sick and tired of saying “oh, when I’m 18 I’ll-” and just sitting around. Even though I turn 18 in less than a year (which is another terrifying thing) I don’t think I can wait that long. I want to stop being miserable and unhappy. I want to express myself, do what I want to do. But I can’t and I damn well know it.

“Well of course you can! It’s your life, remember? Don’t be afraid to take a little risk!” That’s so much easier said than done? Like I almost need physical therapy because my back muscles are so weak that they can barely hold me up these days (that’s not an exaggeration either, by the way, I’ve been in constant pain at school for weeks) before I can get anywhere near exercising for beginners. Everything costs money. I need to consult so many adults, mostly doctors, and I still can’t drive on my own yet. Plus I’d need my parents there anyway. I don’t have my own card or a job yet. I still live with my parents and I have to live under their rules and their definition of what can make me happy. I’m under 18 so I need their permission for so many of the things I want to do. I have severe anxiety issues and a hard time dealing with sudden changes, yet I’m so desperate I can’t just keep waiting forever. Hell I’ve had to stop being vegetarian because my parents wouldn’t help me find foods I liked and they thought it was dumb and burdensome since they’re not vegetarians and now I just eat like a lazy college student because that’s all I can do most nights. I still can’t buy binders or packers or literally anything to help me alleviate dysphoria. It could be months before I can start T.

I don’t have money, I don’t have time, I don’t have permission, I don’t have patience.

I’ve done my waiting. I’ve felt like this since I was 11 or 12 years old. I’ve been waiting for years. I’ve tried doing it myself multiple times but with no one to help me I always fall off and can never get back on. I’m tired of waiting. I’m sick of this “oh well what if you regret it” attitude. I know it’s supposed to protect me but all it’s done is made me miserable and stop me from pursuing things that’ll actually make me happy. Or at least happier. I just can’t get my parents to understand that I need change. I need my parents to understand that all this mentality has done is made me regret so much of the past 6 years of my life.

I just want to be fucking happy. I’m sick and tired of just being a mirror for people. I hate that this is probably the millionth time I’ve thought like this, felt like this, talked like this, and yet I know that every time I vow that it’ll change it never does. I need help. I need to just start everything over. I just want to be fucking happy. Is that really too much to ask?

Inevitably I’ll just continue like I always do, floating along and hoping I don’t relapse again. Barely being present most of the time and being stuck in my own head because that’s the only place I can pursue the things that make me happy. Desperately waiting for a big change that’ll never come because I have to make it. But I can’t make it.

If I did for some reason go behind my parents’ backs? I’ve never done something that drastic before. I’m genuinely scared I’d get beaten or abused. I’m scared they’d take away the few things that I do have and that I’ll sink even lower than I was before. I’m sick and tired of waiting but I can’t risk doing it alone.

But anyways Drew is depressed as usual but this time it’s ill!Drew edition so I feel like shit on literally all levels. I know the internet isn’t my personal diary but I don’t have therapy until Thursday and I have nowhere else to go

[lazylogic]

TL;DR: I’ve let my online art presence and the internet as a whole become so weighty to me that I’m constantly having a meltdown over how the internet has changed and how I present myself online, so I’m cutting myself off from being an artist on the internet, because it seems like the only healthy option for me right now.

I think I need to stop posting online entirely. As drastic and melodramatic as that sounds, I’m spending time on an internet that I hate, wishing for an internet that no longer exists. I’ve repeatedly ~taken breaks from social media to try and detox~, and it does help in the short term, but eventually I just fall back into my “existential art crisis” and become anxious, stressed, and frustrated again, hating myself and hating every choice I’ve made up to this point. I’m happy when I draw at my own pace, but I’m quickly overwhelmed by the “I’m not posting enough so people won’t like me anymore” anxiety I get.

I know I’m like, the only one who feels this way, the only one who cares this much and takes art this seriously that I’ve let it crush me so much. For some reason my art and my ability to draw is so deeply ingrained in my identity and sense of self, and it’s become so monumentally important to me that it’s worn me down this much. But I know I’m not the only artist online who feels pressure to perform every day, who compares themself to others, who feels burnt out every month, and who is constantly fighting with the evolving technology and society that seems to be consistently designed to screw us. I know many have been able to adapt, and have done it smoothly, and I commend them and am incredibly happy for them. I’m proud to have happy and well-adjusted art peers! I can’t do that. I want to put in the effort to adapt, I have to many ideas to share and stories to tell, but I’m just…spent. Every time I try, it takes up all of my very limited energy, and I’m back to hibernation mode again. I am tired. I’m too small, sensitive and self-conscious to simply keep trucking along. My fragility makes every effort so painful. I really cannot do this anymore.

Posting my art online used to be fun. I loved connecting with people over fan art, OCs, gushing with other artists about each other’s creations, and getting love and support from people who found enjoyment in it. I used to get kind asks on Tumblr just complimenting my art or encouraging me when I posted a vent piece. Tumblr especially used to be my chill place. Most of those people, along with that happy and peaceful environment, are gone now. Old Tumblr is dead, old DeviantArt is gone, I feel detached from FA more than I ever have. Everything feels scattered and divided, and people are so jaded, which I really can’t blame anyone for. No matter where I go, I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore, and I don’t really want to be anywhere, either. I feel like I don’t even fit in with my own demographic, no matter what I try. I can’t emphasize enough that I’m trying to post for and enjoy an internet and online community that no longer exists. It’s my own fault for living in the past. Everything is far too fleeting now, engagement is king and constant streams of new content, as well as outrage, equals that. Everyone else seems to be able to change so readily with it, and I’m still stuck figuring things out from five years ago. I can’t seem to recognize or understand anyone anymore, either. I can’t keep up, and I don’t want to try to anymore.

I think what I wanted the most for my art was for it to resonate with people. It’s always been my favorite thing to do for fun, and it always made me so happy knowing my art made someone’s day better, even if it was just Hattie being silly or cute fan art. The idea that I could make someone breathe easier because I drew something soft and comforting is incredibly meaningful to me. But my art was always a powerful emotional outlet for me, too. I know my vent art would often dip into edgy territory, especially in my teenage years, and I withdrew from drawing vent art as a whole because I became too self-aware of it and I felt too exposed. But it was real, and it came from a real place and real emotions, and that’s still important to me. I feel emotions very strongly. I wanted to say something and be understood. And I guess that’s what I still want? To be understood, like anyone else would want, I guess.

I don’t even know what I want out of posting online anymore, or why I bother to check it. Every bit of engagement I get feels more empty than rewarding, and that discrepancy keeps growing. I hate it, because I know it’s because my brain has been trained to want more. I hate that I need more and more validation that people care about me via my art, because it used to be purely mine. And I want so much for it to just be mine again. It’s really felt like I’ve been drawing for everyone else for such a long time, and I guess that’s also my own fault. I feel trapped here. I really don’t enjoy drawing anymore, and I never get the urge to like I used to, and I cannot express how much that absolutely guts me. I always say social media is what ruined it for me, but I know that my participation in social media was my own choice, so I know I actually ruined it for myself.

I have a lot of work to do. I need to just get better as a person, fix my mental health, gain any semblance of self-worth so that I’m not breaking down every week over my value as an artist being synonymous with my value as a person (before you wonder, I am working with mental health professionals regularly now). I know I complain a LOT about the internet and how it’s changed, but I need to make it very clear that I don’t meant to put the blame solely on all of that for my mental state. I recognize that I just have a lot of issues and I make things harder for myself all the time. I’m chronically living in the past and unhappy with the present, and that’s 100% a me problem. This is the only move I can think of that will allow me to actually focus on getting my shit together; removing the option of being an online artist altogether. I can’t cheat and peek at Twitter and slowly make my way back after three weeks. While I’m at it, I will probably stop posting everywhere else too (not that I was really posting much anyway). I don’t want to say I’m leaving forever but I will say that I want no more expectations, I’m not gonna be posting anymore, basically until further notice. I have to figure my shit out for real. I’m not sure if this will even work, it might just make things worse for me. But I’m just at a loss and I feel like I need to do something. I don’t know if my absence from online art posting will cause me to miraculously enjoy drawing again and a year from now I’ll have a massive backlog to show everyone, I’ll be fixed and happy…I don’t know. I just know this isn’t for me, not right now.

I feel guilty doing this, because I have people who have been following me and supporting me for well over a decade, and I think you guys deserve better than this. It’s a big part of my motivation for doing this to begin with - I’m kind of ashamed to show myself to these awesome people every day, I feel like I owe everyone more than just my gratitude, but I haven’t been able to deliver consistent art or content in years. I feel like I'm letting so many people down every day, and ultimately I feel the same about leaving. But I need to get better first. I think about everyone all the time and feel so lucky and so stupid. I know it’s dramatic, but to everyone, thank you, and I’m sorry.

For anybody going, “it’s not that deep,” I’ve heard that plenty. This post isn’t for you.

I’m not completely disappearing from the internet. If you want to get into contact with me, you can add me on Discord at RealaChao#7312. I will still accept commissions privately for now, so just reach out to me (I’ll update my commissions Carrd site if I decide to close them). I won’t necessarily be deleting my accounts, but I will be logging out of everything at least and disabling notifications, so please don’t message me on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, or anywhere else expecting a reply. You can also email me at plutoeffoart@gmail.com. Lastly, my main focus these days has been my Neocities, so you’re welcome to check that out (though it's largely a draft right now). It’s not going to be an art site, though, at least not only art. It’s gonna be my quiet home.

I also posted this here. Genuinely, thanks for everything.

[pitch-pearl-void]

(The borderlands anon from however long ago)

So, I finished watching the show a couple days ago, because there were a couple things that showed up consistently in fics i that I didn’t understand (blood blossoms, some of the baddies, a handful of fenton inventions, etc)

First off, I still very much prefer pitch pearl to amethyst ocean or whatever the hell it’s called

And also, do you know where pitch pearl as a ship came from? I know there’s the episode with fun and super, but is that all there really was? Or were there more early fandom headcannons that supported them as separate beings?

Hello again! Sorry this took so long, I wasn’t sure how to answer 😅

Canon did a poor job with AO. I would even say it did it dirty, but it's popular enough it doesn't need that kind of support lol. If you really want to give it a fair shake I’d recommend reading fanfiction for it, but I understand everyone’s preferences are different. I personally don’t ship it because shipping best friends is something I have real issues with, but it’s not a bad ship if you want something that’s soft and makes you feel all warm inside.

Onto pitch pearl tho!

Tbh, I’m not entirely sure myself how pitch pearl as a ship started. I don’t believe it was because of the Fun and Super episode, largely because those two are rarely used in the ship. 

I asked someone else, and they thought that moment in What You Want when Phantom was first torn from Fenton as this colorless ghost might have been what started the concept they weren’t one whole person. Because, honestly? This ship goes far, FAR back. A lot of the older fics made Phantom into a voice in Danny’s head or a spirit that could separate from him at will without the need of the Ghost Catcher in order to offer Danny comfort. They had no rules because there weren’t any set way yet. The fact that Phantom could move and think independently from Danny was enough to get people thinking. It wasn't all romantic, most of it was borderline at best. They mostly focused on hurt/comfort and self-love, finding a balance between human and ghost with the occasional kiss thrown in.

Then there’s TUE, where Danny meets his evil future self and learns that his ghost half killed his human half after merging with Plasmius. It definitely gave more credence to the idea there might be more to Danny’s ghost half than simply having ghost powers. It aired before Identity Crisis, so it set the stage with a BOOM and had a much bigger impact on the ship. Phantom being seen as his own person is a bit more credible when he’s willing to kill Danny. It helped that TUE was a VERY popular episode. It drew in a huge crowd, and everyone was curious about what made the ghost half snap like that if he’s supposed to be Danny.

Supporting that idea is that a lot of the older art and fics took a darker view of Phantom in general, seeing him as Danny’s darker half or a ghost out for revenge after being imprisoned for so long. Even the name “pitch pearl” was created with that in mind. I always thought of it as “white hair/black hair” in the same vein as AO taking inspiration from Sam’s purple eyes and Danny’s blue, but when I went searching for the origins for the name, the old explanation set Danny Fenton as white pearl and Phantom as pitch black. The reasoning for that was partly their jumpsuits pre- and post- accident, but also because Fenton is human and “pure” while Phantom is a ghost and dangerous--because without Fenton, Phantom became Dan and destroyed everything.

For obvious and somewhat personal reasons, I don’t subscribe to that. But it does make all the art where Phantom looks evil while holding Danny make sense. I don’t like dark romance, and I’m personally thrilled we moved away from such a dark beginning, but it likely had a hand in the early popularity of pitch pearl.

If I were to guess how else it started when the source has them as one person, I would say it was most likely the fanart? Putting Fenton and Phantom side-by-side has a yin-yang appeal, and when they interact in art, you get the sense that these are two characters, not one. This was really popular when the fandom was much bigger than it is now.

For instance

Save Our Soul by nycken isn't a shipping piece by any means, but it could very easily give rise to the idea, especially if someone is new to the fandom.

They did not shy away from it being a self-cest ship back then, though. The idea that Phantom wasn't Danny was there, but I don't think anyone looked for evidence in the show to support it. That seems to be something the ship has evolved into rather than something it started from, and it is honestly my favorite way to see it.

I do have many headcanons about how they aren’t the same person in canon if you're interested! There’s the out of sync transformations, the title sequence and how Super and Fun are shown to separate in the Identity Crisis episode, Vlad’s inability to clone Danny, the way Danny talks to himself, just all kinds of things! If you want to hear more about those I'd be happy to answer 😁 (they'd probably be easier too lol)

But yeah, I think it was TUE and fanart. There may have been other factors (I think this was around the time Yu-Gi-Oh and puzzleshipping was popular too) because fandom doesn't exist in a vacuum, but I really couldn't say for sure. It's a ship that means different things for everyone who ships it. I like the psychological questions when they start off as "one" (the bonded peeps version) and enjoy the aus like soooo much, but others like it only for aus, and others like it as a crack ship, and then there are even others who like it as something dangerous. Some people love it for Fun and Super in Identity Crisis because they're just fun caricatures. It's hard to find the origin point when it has so many branches lol

[talatomaz]

crossing paths pt.i | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. since this was going to be really long, i decided to split it into two parts. also this may be slightly canon divergent since i’ve not watched flash in a long time.

warnings: mentions of fighting, death

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“You’re absolutely sure this will work, Cisco?”

You asked, tying your hair up into a ponytail whilst the mechanical genius typed on his computer; the keys clacking under his fingertips.

“Yes. 100%. Well, more like 99%. Okay, if we’re being truly honest, then 93%.”

Cisco paused after each figure before turning his head to face you.

“Cisco-“

You started before the former interrupted, “Trust me, y/n. You’ll be fine. You just need to travel there, have a look around and then come straight back. We’ve done it so many times before.”

You and Cisco had been working on modifying the extrapolator your team often used to travel between different Earths. Or rather, you used to use them before the rebirth of the universe following Oliver’s sacrifice.

You cleared your throat at the thought of the vigilante. Having grown up with him and he having dated both of your older sisters meant that he was practically like your brother. And you were broken when you’d lost him so you’d left Team Arrow and came to work with Barry and his team instead.

Working with Team Flash was...different, to say the least. But having known them for several years, you got on well with them all, especially Cisco and Iris.

However, this project you were working on was only known to you and Cisco; the others blissfully unaware, mainly because the two of you knew that if you told them, they’d guilt you into stopping your experiment.

You were the one who had gone to Cisco with the idea in the first place.

After the Crisis, many of you had assumed that everyone solely remained on one Earth however you believed that the multiverse still existed, but that it’d be much harder to access. Cisco had agreed to help you but had explained that he wouldn’t come with you due to his relinquished powers.

So here you were, getting ready to try out the extrapolator in order to confirm or disprove your theory that the multiverse still existed.

“Technically, we haven’t, Cisco. New Earth remember?”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Cisco, if this doesn’t work, you better be ready to explain to my ex-assassin of a sister what happened to me.”

You laughed as his face dropped at the thought of that conversation.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve done all the necessary calculations and made a few needed modifications, including a GPS chip. It’ll work, y/n. Here, take your mask. Just in case.”

He added as an afterthought, handing you the sleek black mask he had designed to disguise your identity.

You put the mask in your jacket and took a deep breath, readying yourself. Holding the extrapolator, you pressed the small button and a familiar portal opened in front of you; variations of colours swirling around the breach.

You looked back at Cisco and feigned seriousness, “If I die, I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes widened making you smile, “Be safe, Cisco. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you then stepped into the inter-dimensional breach.

***

“Okay, hopefully this worked.”

The breach closed behind you as you stepped into an alley; the several dumpsters providing some form of protection from anyone who may have seen you.

Wherever you were, it was bright and sunny.

Pocketing the extrapolator, you stepped out of the alley and walked down the paved sidewalk, listening for any indications of where you were from passersby.

You continued walking until you came across a newsstand that looked fairly out of place in this seemingly technological environment.

You stopped, peering at the front cover of one of the magazines.

The words “DAILY PLANET” were printed on the top of the paper. You reached down and picked it up, flicking through the pages, pausing when you saw a familiar name on the byline.

Folding the paper back into its original state, you placed it back on the stand, flashing a kind but brief smile to the newsagent who looked at you with intrigue.

Although you didn’t know what Earth you were on, at least you knew you were in Metropolis.

A place you had visited several times since the rebirth of the universe.

A place that, despite whatever Earth, was always home to one Clark Kent, better known as Superman.

You pondered in your thoughts for a little while longer before deciding to venture out and explore the city, eager to find any similarities or differences between your Earth and this one.

You ended up in a museum.

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten there, having followed wherever your feet had taken you but, nevertheless, you were here.

Whilst you were never a huge fan of museums, you’d often found yourself being dragged to them by Laurel when you were younger.

There was something about them that she’d loved.

She tried explaining it to you once.

How the beauty of art told a story or something.

You didn’t really pay much attention and who could have blamed you? You were only 10 years old. You’d rather be out playing or hanging out with your friends than spending your Saturday afternoon in a stuffy old museum.

But this place was anything but.

In truth, you knew that you sought solace in places like these during times of distress or uncertainty.

It gave you a chance to feel closer to your sister after the world had cruelly taken her away from you. Even on another Earth, you still found peace and felt her presence next to you.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging before tensing once more, feeling someone behind you.

You never used to be so on edge.

When you were younger, you lived such a care free life, never feeling any need to be concerned or cautious.

But that had changed quickly.

Soon you had been thrust into the vigilante life, more determined than ever to become like your sisters and help them fight crime.

In fact, you had learned to fight from a reluctant Sara.

After several arguments about the danger of her world, she’d come to accept that there was no changing your mind and had decided that if you were going to purposely put yourself in harm’s way, you needed to be prepared. She had put you through vigorous training which Oliver soon picked up with you after Sara had been recruited to form the Legends.

So, suffice it to say, you were well-versed in the forms of self-defence and were constantly on the lookout for any form of danger.

And being on a different Earth certainly warranted your caution.

“How are you liking our exhibit?”

A feminine voice said, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t distinguish.

Turning with a smile, you spoke, “It’s beautiful. I never used to appreciate art but now I find myself lost in the works of Rembrandt or Claude Monet.”

“Ah yes. They were most excellent artists.”

You blinked, not at her words but at her face.

The woman who stood before you was, quite simply put, the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life.

Realising you were staring, you cleared your throat, “Yes, I agree.”

You opened your mouth to say something else - what, you weren’t sure of - when you closed it again having spotted a man who’d just entered the room which held the small exhibit.

The figure wore a black cap, obstructing his face, his eyes darting around before landing on another male situated in one of the corners of the room. The latter gave him a brief nod which the other returned. Discreetly glancing at them, you noticed familiar bulges beneath their shirt, surely holding a gun.

“Okay, don’t be alarmed but I think this place is about to get robbed.” You said in a hushed whisper, faking interest in another piece of art beside you.

You noted the small but discernible flicker in the woman’s eyes, her name still unknown to you.

“How-“

“Let’s just say I’m perceptive. Do me a favour and take out your phone.”

You waited until the brunette had followed your instructions.

“Pretend to be talking to someone and walk out the room. They’re not going to do anything until you’re gone because they don’t want to run the risk of you warning someone.”

She nodded at your words and proceeded to carry out your plan.

You fought the look of surprise and confusion that surely would’ve shown on your face at the lack of fear on hers. Instead, her eyes seemed to hold a look of determination.

Determined to do what, you weren’t sure of.

Once she had left, your suspicions were confirmed when the two men simultaneously took out their guns and shouted.

“Everybody down on the ground. Now!”

Screams and shouts were let out by the small group of citizens in the room, replacing the quiet bustle of hushed whispers that had previously filled the air.

As everyone immediately fell to the ground, you slid down the wall until you were in an upright position.

You watched as they removed several of the smaller pieces of art, carefully placing them in a duffel bag. You waited until they grew closer to you before standing up causing both of their guns to be aimed at you.

“Sit back down or you’ll get a bullet in your pretty little head.”

They both moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the view of the security cameras and the people behind them. Using your powers, you pulled the guns toward you and flung them to the far side of the room.

You took advantage of their momentary confusion and kicked both of them. One of them grabbed you from behind, his tight grip trapping your arms. You raised your legs and caged the other’s neck between them.

Twisting your legs, you threw him to the ground and then drew yourself closer into your captor’s arms, lifting off the ground for a brief second before throwing him over your shoulders and onto the ground beside the other intruder.

“Run!”

You yelled to the handful of citizens who watched you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Then you felt yourself being pushed against the marble ground as one of the men jumped on top of you, his weight crushing your small figure.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.” He snarled against your ear.

You threw your head back, smirking when you heard the grunt of pain and several curses falling from the man’s lips.

You raised your hands and with it, the other man floated in the air. With a wave of your wrist, he went crashing into his friend and they slumped into a corner.

You quickly picked yourself up and ran out of the museum’s back exit, knowing you had to avoid the police at all costs.

Reaching an abandoned alley, similar to the one you first arrived in, you took out the inter-dimensional extrapolator, deciding it was way too dangerous for you to remain here any longer.

Pressing the device, you expected to see a breach form but to your shock, there was none. Inspecting the device, you saw that it had been broken, more than likely from when you’d been thrown against the ground by the robbers.

You muttered a foul curse before calming yourself.

Think, y/n. Think.

Your ears perked up at the familiar whistle and rattle of train tracks.

Okay, you knew what to do next.

You needed to go home.

Part 2 ->

[oss-crime]

Chapter 5-Escape of the Witch Salmhofer; Scene 8

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 202-209

Ever since Gammon’s revolt, an uneasy political situation had carried on in the Twelve Royal Capitals.

The members of the senate were comprised of the heads of the twelve families that ruled over each town—that had been the standard procedure. But Gammon had decided to repeal this and dismiss each of the present members, starting with his father.

However, this caused great deal of backlash. Fearing it would reignite the fires of conflict anew, Gammon established a meeting with the twelve families, and ultimately decided to make the sons of each family into the new senate members.

Due to this, the new senate wound up being comprised largely of young people in their twenties.

Gammon made public that the queen had been in a brainwashed state by Miroku for many years.

“From now on I vow to return to the proper governmental system with the queen at its core.”

Gammon’s decree had relieved the people.

On the other hand, around this point much of the populace had also learned of the queen’s prophecy that foretold the world’s destruction.

As anxieties about this matter began to spread, the new senate headed by Gammon decided to revive Project “Ma”—

.

“—And I’m the one who has been ordered to take responsibility for it…Me, Seth Twiright.”

They were in a room in the Royal Research Institute.

Seth had explained all this to Meta, who was herself seated in a chair.

Outside the room she could hear several people walking about. They were all researchers that Seth had newly hired on, but their true identity was that of the government’s information bureau.

In other words, they were guards there to keep Meta from escaping.

“…So then, when these children are born—” Meta patted her belly, which had grown larger. “You’re saying I’ll become the next queen?”

But Seth sadly shook his head at her question.

“The details of the second Project ‘Ma’ are slightly altered from the previous one…The ‘mother of the gods’ will be able to achieve a sizable reward and commensurate status—but the position of queen will still be performed by Alice Merry-Go-Round.”

“…So the ‘mother of the gods’…only exists to give birth to the ‘Twins of God’.”

“If we didn’t have it that way, the senate would never have given permission for you, a non-virgin, to be fertilized with the ‘Seed of God’, yes?”

But Meta had qualified as an “Ma” candidate back in the first project as well. When she asked Seth about that, he explained with a shrug of his shoulders, “Back then the government still hadn’t obtained any conclusive proof of your and Pale’s relationship.”

“That’s surprisingly sloppy of the government.”

“It’s an issue of them not having a sense of the impending crisis. There’s still a few decades before the time of the destruction—the ‘Gear of Twilight’. For most people, it’s the many issues that are more immediately in front of them that take priority.”

“…”

“But that’s not so for Gammon. He has met with the queen personally—and most likely came into contact with the ‘truth’. Though I don’t know the specific contents of it. At any rate, he has privately become quite desperate to stop the world’s destruction. To the point where he is no longer concerned with keeping up appearances.”

So then…that was the reason why he was seeking an “Ma” candidate that was magically strong, regardless of whether or not they were a criminal.

Meta had already had a “Seed of God” implanted in her stomach by Seth.

She had become pregnant soon after, and started to live hidden away from the world in the royal research institute.

The people most likely had not been made aware of the fact that it was Meta who bore the “Twins of God”.  If it got out that the “Witch of Merrigod” were the “Mother of the Gods”, there’s no way there wouldn’t be an uproar about it.

In all likelihood, once the “Twins of God” were born that fact would be made public by Gammon, and they would be accepted into the populace with great celebration.

But Meta herself—

I’ll be forced to change my name and live as someone else…I suppose that would be preferable. There’s always a chance they’ll kill me to shut me up.

As far as society was concerned, Meta had already been executed in Lighwatch temple.

At the very least, the current government wasn’t a monolith. She could determine that from how Seth had gone out of his way to pull off such a trick to save her (though she didn’t know if it was something he had done on his own or if Gammon had ordered him to). If Yegor had been in on it, there wouldn’t have been any need to fake her death like that.

Though Seth had promised Meta’s safety, there was no guarantee that others would feel similarly.

And Meta didn’t even trust Seth to start with.

The reason why she was still cooperating with him regardless—

“…Hey. Is Pale okay? I wanna see him.”

She had posed this question to Seth several times before.

Each time she did he would dodge the question—

But today was different.

“Relax. I’m a man of my word.”

“Then—”

“Just like you, Pale Noel was executed publicly. But—”

“—He’s actually still alive. …Did you use the same methods as with me?”

“No. I examined him while in prison as a doctor, and…it seemed that Pale’s body had developed some defects. –He can’t maintain his own body without absorbing magical energy from other people.”

Meta had known that already.

But where was he going with this?

“Couldn’t you just…do something about that when he got out of prison?”

“That wouldn’t work. It was my estimation that as he was, Pale wouldn’t have much longer to live. …So I figured this was a good time to have him swap bodies.”

“I…don’t understand what you mean.”

“In that case—I should probably have you see for yourself.” Seth clapped his hands. “Enter.”

On cue the door opened, and a boy entered the room.

“Who’s this kid?” Meta asked.

The one to answer was not Seth, but the boy himself.

“Long time no see, Meta…It’s me, Pale.”

“…Wha?”

Obviously, the Pale that Meta knew wasn’t a boy like this, but an adult man.

But…now that she looked at him properly, his features did seem to resemble Pale’s somewhat.

“Er…So you mean…”

“You must be confused. But—it’s okay. I’ll take this opportunity to explain it all to you.” Pale turned to Seth. “I assume you don’t mind…Brother.”

Seth nodded wordlessly.

Once he’d seen that, Pale turned back to Meta.

“I—am a ‘ghoul child’.”

“…Ghoul child?”

“An artificial human created inside a beaker. My body and personality were all constructed by Seth.”

“You…expect me to believe such a crazy story?”

Pale pointed to Meta’s belly as she drew in her shoulders.

“It’s sort of like—the twins inside your stomach. The only difference is that their mother is a human woman instead of a glass vessel…that’s all it is.”

“…”

Certainly…on the point that they weren’t created by natural intercourse between a man and woman but rather an experiment of Seth’s—

They were the same.

Pale leaned against the wall, and continued his explanation.

“For some time now, Horus—or rather, Seth—has been performing research into the artificial construction of life to make the ‘Next Queen Project’ a reality. The construction of ‘ghoul children’…like myself…could be called a subspecies, or variant, of that.”

“…”

Meta silently listened to him speak, her hands resting on her expanded belly.

This boy’s way of speaking was the same as Pale’s that she knew so well.

“—Though it hasn’t been as simple as all that. Ever since I became an adult, I came to be afflicted with a problem of magical energy…Though that was better than the alternative. The ‘ghoul child’ made after me was just kept in storage as an empty shell, without a personality.”

Pale said that the body he was currently using was recycled from that “empty shell” that had been kept in storage.

“It took quite a bit of time to get my spirit affixed to this body…So we weren’t able to meet like this until now.”

“…You…knew all of this before?”

“Yeah. That’s why I…once ordered you to kill my brother. I had thought—that if I could get rid of the original of me, “Seth”, then I would become the “real” one.”

“Pale…My beloved Pale…My poor Pale…”

Meta stood and walked over to Pale, crouching down and embracing her love.

“…”

Pale looked over at Seth, his short arms around Meta’s back.

“Brother—Could you let me speak to Meta alone for a little bit?”

“…Ah, very well. I’m not so boorish as to get in the way of a lover’s meeting.”

Seth nodded and left the room, humming to himself.

.

--For a short while, the two of them continued to hold each other without a word.

Eventually, Pale whispered to Meta, “Meta…Let’s run away.”

“…!?”

“I can survive like this. There’s…no need for you to do as Seth says.”

“But—”

Meta looked down.

She was looking at her own belly, where her twins resided.

Pale nodded in understanding.

“—That’s right. It’ll be hard to escape with your body heavy with child. When you’re stable after the birth, I’ll…create a diversion. You’ll have to be patient until then.”

“…Alright, I understand.”

“Apocalypse is on the brink of destruction. But as long as we’re together…we can start over again.” Pale pulled away from Meta. “I’ll have to be going home soon.”

“…Where are you living now?”

“Seth’s house. Publicly, I’m his nephew.”

When Pale opened the door, Seth was waiting there to greet him.

“Are you done talking? Then let’s get going.”

Thus prompted, Pale left with Seth.

It almost seemed to Meta as though his limbs were bound with a thin string tied to Seth’s finger.  

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[gumnut-logic]

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Thank you ever so much for all your support of this fic. It has floundered in places, but I think it is much more solid now and going in a direction I can control. Of course, it has just past the 20,000 word mark, so much for the fabled ‘ficlet’ I set out to write. ::ponders writing twenty fandomversary fics of that length and falls on face::

I’m working the next six days straight as it is my shitty weekend this week. I will keep writing, but results may vary as I get worn down by work. What gets doen, will get done. Work cramps my style.

This is for @soniabigcheese​ one of the mainstays of this wonderful fandom :D

-o-o-o-

The crowd erupted.

“Virgil, sit down.” It was hissed at him as the roar overtook everything.

Everyone was shouting.

Veronica was calling for order, but no one was listening.

That one woman kept staring at him. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her tears.

“Do you admit responsibility for the sixty-three deaths in New York?”

“That was an apology!”

“Why did you let it happen?”

It was an avalanche threatening to sweep him away.

Then someone got a hold of a megaphone. “You people are disgusting!”

It was like an extra knife, twisting in his gut. Virgil looked down at the wooden table in front of him. After images danced in his eyesight.

But the megaphone continued. “How can you treat these men this way? How many of you have had loved ones saved by International Rescue? I have! We owe these men everything, you ungrateful slimes!”

Virgil’s head shot up. What?

On the other side of the crowd, almost opposite the woman who had accused him, were a group of people all dressed in green. Beside them were other groups of colours – yellow, blue, gold and red. Above this rainbow were more placards, but their message was considerably different.

‘Virgil Tracy saved my boy’.

‘I’ve been saved and so have you.’

‘Rescued by International Rescue.’

‘Leave IR alone.’

The one that screamed out in blue ‘Scott Tracy, will you marry me?’ held a different message altogether, but the spirit was there.

The woman holding the microphone was dark-haired and unfamiliar.

The hub bub had died down just a little and Virgil found the ability to breathe again.

The woman’s eyes caught his and the determination and the…trust in them was a physical thing that up and slapped him.

She didn’t let him go.

He was International Rescue.

He saved people.

Again, the crowd reacted to him. Much more must be showing on his face than he was aware, because a tension settled over the people below. Eyes darted between the woman in green and Virgil’s stare. New questions popped up, but they were quieter and finally, Veronica was able to take control of the proceedings.

“Thank you for your consideration.” Her pursed lips added sarcasm and not a little admonishment to her words. “Scott and Virgil Tracy are here to answer a few questions, but before we start, Mr Tracy has a statement.”

She stepped back from the lectern and Scott stood up, his fingers brushing gently over Virgil’s shoulder.

Scott exuded command. His brother was putting every bit of himself into projecting confidence and power.

And he was succeeding.

“Several accusations have been made against International Rescue in recent days.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Regarding Hurricane Lucy…myself and my brothers are grieved at the loss of life caused by the storm, and the damage to the environment incurred by the oil spill.” Another pause, eyes raking the crowd. “Despite repeated attempts to launch, we were restrained by the Global Defence Force from saving those in danger.

“We wanted to, but we were forced to sit and watch when we could have prevented so much.

“And for that reason, we share your grief.”

Blue eyes raked the silent crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York…” A whimper to their left and Virgil’s eyes were once again forced to land on the woman who had lost her son.

The tears were gone and he only found hatred in her eyes.

He drew in a breath.

Cameras flashed yet again.

“Virgil! We trust you!” It was loud. It was sudden. But it whipped his eyes away from accusation to the other side of the crowd once again where that colourful group of people projected support.

His heart twisted.

He felt Scott’s eyes on him, before his brother retook control of the crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York. We are investigating the cause of the accident, but I can assure you that it was not pilot error.”

He held the crowd with his eyes and Virgil found even more admiration for his brother. Scott knew exactly what he was doing and he was doing it well.

His brother took a step back. “Thank you for coming.”

Several reporters twitched at that, arms shooting up with a sudden fear they were about to lose their opportunity to speak with the Tracys.

Intelligent and powerful, Scott looked down on them and held them with his eyes just that moment longer before breaking the spell and returning to his seat beside Virgil.

Virgil stared at him.

Okay, wow.

His brother turned to look at him and blue sparkled as one corner of his lips curled up just a little.

Oh, confident and suave Scooter who was fully aware of his skill. It distracted Virgil from dark thoughts and he suddenly realised that he was as subject to his brother’s spell as the rest of the crowd.

Smart ass.

Veronica took the stand again. “We have time for a few relevant questions.”

Hands that had dropped under that blue-eyed bewitchment shot up again. Veronica turned to Scott, non-verbally handing him the floor.

And Virgil realised that Scott had returned to his seat for only one reason.

To support his younger brother through this.

Virgil let his shoulders drop.

Control of the crowd returned to Scott.

The commander eyed the cluster of journalists, raised a hand and pointed to one on the right. “Ned?”

Virgil blinked. It was indeed Ned Cook. Scott and the reporter had a long term, ongoing antagonism. Cook had chased International Rescue across the globe, attending as many rescues as he could. Having once encountered a frustrated Scott in person, and then been saved by Virgil during a building collapse not long after, he was very pro-IR on every front.

Scott still had words with him time to time. The man always had to push the boundaries and Virgil knew his brother found him irritating.

Virgil just worried the man was going to get himself killed.

But he was a fair reporter and would relay the facts.

Dark hair and eyes bounced between the two Tracys. “So, what you are saying is that International Rescue was not responsible for either incident?”

Scott tilted his head. “Mr Cook, what I am saying is that we are not responsible for being unable to assist during Hurricane Lucy. That blame lies entirely with GDF Command. We have recordings of their direction during the crisis and the extent we tried to help. We were vetoed on all fronts.”

“Why didn’t you fly anyway?”

“And give the GDF an excuse to ground us permanently? Risk all the future lives we could save?” Scott sighed. “We can only help those who want to be helped.”

That set the crowd rumbling. There were shouts of ‘we wanted help’ and ‘please help us’.

Virgil found his eyes drawn again to the left.

The woman was still staring at him with accusation in every line.

He shied away.

“What about the New York disaster?” Cook wasn’t letting them off the hook.

Scott remained calm. “As I said, we are still investigating.”

Virgil was aware of all the eyes on him.

Scott pointed at another reporter.

The man straightened. “Eddie Kerr, sir. I’d like to address Mr Virgil Tracy.”

Scott glanced at him sideways, but Virgil nodded.

All the attention turned to him.

“Virgil, what were your thoughts when that slab of concrete dropped on those sixty-three people?”

Virgil’s throat tightened and he had to clear his throat, but he found his voice. “Sixty-four, my youngest brother was also under that concrete when it fell.”

“But he survived. The other sixty-three did not.”

“I tried, Mr Kerr. God, I tried. It shouldn’t have happened.” A hand landed on his arm and cameras flashed at him again.

God, he was the vulnerability.

“You did your best, Virgil” The megaphone again. “We know you-” She was cut off.

His eyes found the green woman wrestling with a police officer. He appeared to be attempting to take away the megaphone.

Virgil stood up. “No, leave her alone!”

“Virgil!” Scott hissed at him again.

He turned to his brother. “She has the right to speak, Scott. Just as much as anyone else here.” Turning back to the crowd. “Leave her be!”

“You don’t control the police, Mr Tracy.” It was sneered from somewhere down at the front.

Scott rose beside him, tension in every line as a woman in a suit stepped out of the crowd. She had an intensity in her step that spoke of confidence and a right to be where she was.

On the other side of the plaza, the green woman was joined by one dressed in red and a man in blue. More police ran to the scene as the woman struggled. The crowd murmured uneasily.

“Mr Tracy!” The woman in the suit was being held back by IR Security. Gerald, in fact, Scott’s personal attendant. “I’m from the Office of the Commissioner of Justice.” Her tones were sharp and her identification was literally shoved in Gerald’s face. The officer frowned as he focussed on the document. Eyes darted up to Scott and confirmed her identity.

Cameras were flashing again, almost blinding Virgil as his brother nodded. Gerald let the woman through, hovering behind her, hand on his stunner.

She sauntered up to the podium, eyes cold and accusing. She slapped a clear flimsy down in front of Virgil as Scott shifted closer, all towering protectiveness.

The woman ignored him. Attention solely on Virgil, “You’re summoned, Mr Virgil Tracy, to answer for your actions.” Her finger tapped the electronic slip and the flimsy flashed acceptance.

Virgil stared at her, but she ignored him, and turned to Scott. “You don’t control everything, commander. You will answer for your actions.”

She spun on her heel and strode off into the crowd.

Virgil found his mouth open and shut it.

The light and noise of the crowd rose up and consumed him.

-o-o-o-

Next

[if-found-return-to-gusu]

Smoke and Soot

Things were tense. I made them tense. After the fire it was just…. 

I guess I’m just shit at handling stress? I used to think I was pretty good at dealing with stress but I’m starting to realize that I only thought that because I… wasn’t dealing with it.

My biggest problem… Well… One of my biggest problems… I don’t know… That is.

Urgh.

Okay

So my greatest goal in life is to be as small of an inconvenience as possible, apparently. I’ve been thinking about it this past couple weeks and it… informs like 90% of what I do. Especially when I’m stressed I guess. Or… indebted…. And compounding on that, I view every kindness as a debt I should repay. Everything is owed and nothing is free. And while I pay it back I will try not to incur more debt. Don’t be an inconvenience. Don’t take up space. 

I… I don’t think it’s all because of how I was raised with the Jiangs because I was like that from the beginning… I don’t know what happened to me before then. As I mentioned before, I don’t remember. But I think sometimes I kinda… remember the feelings?

I mean it’s obvious that there are conditions from before that still affect me now. I have some scars on my leg and my arm - old and faded now. The one on my leg is clearer. Bite marks. At some point an animal attacked me. Dogs. I don’t remember the event but I still have the results. I’m terrified of them. Dogs. I can’t… I freeze and tremble. So I know the bites are from dogs. Even if I can’t remember the attack. But I have the scars. Both mental and physical. 

And I wonder how many other scars, ones that I can’t see, really inform why I am the way I am. 

Anyway. Not the point. I’m still opening the doors. The doors to my own problems that I kept sealed shut. I’ve had to dig up some keys. Forage through the brush to find them. Some keys have to be re-made. But I’m trying. 

Not the point. 

But anyway. I don’t know the why but I know the result. And the result is I don’t want to take up space. 

And when I started living with Lan Zhan, that instinct kicked into overdrive. Like insane overdrive. 

I think part of it was that I didn’t want to be a bother. I wanted it to be as life as usual for Lan Zhan. So I wouldn’t disrupt his life. He was doing so much for me by taking me in. By taking care of me. It felt like the least I could do to pay that back.  

I know the flaw in that thinking. You have told me. Lan Zhan has told me. Wen Qing has told me. Everyone has told me. I get it. I get that the way of thinking is wrong. But I can’t help it. It’s how I think.

And I’ve gotten better. Especially where Lan Zhan is concerned. 

BUt this was different. It was too much for me to really understand that there is no cost attached to it.

And I did NOT want that cost to be Lan Zhan. I didn’t want to lose him. I DON’T want to lose him. I…

Anyway.

The way this came out was with cleaning. Cleaning everything. I’ve mentioned before that Lan Zhan’s home is spotless. And I know that he prefers cleanliness. On my own I was… not clean. I mean not a pig sty but like my apartment was definitely lived in. There always seemed to be a couple dishes in the sink and some clothes strewn about waiting to be put away. Or art supplies or what have you. 

But Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan is clean. He’s tidy. He puts things away when he’s done with them. He has a cleaning schedule. Like dusting and sweeping and mopping and like all that. And… I don’t know… I didn’t want to disrupt that. I didn’t want to make him clean up after me or like ruin his flow or whatever. 

That was part of it. 

A large part. 

But the other part…. Sometimes even now….

I can smell the smoke on my skin. I can smell it on the things I’ve touched. Left behind like a stain. And… And I know it’s in my head. But it… doesn’t make it any less real to me.

I couldn’t stand the smell of the smoke. And I was afraid that… I don’t know that it’d tainted the things I’d touched. That Lan Zhan could smell it. That he’d resent me for it. That he’d want me to leave. To get away. To stop contaminating his home with my smoke.

……

Thinking about it now…. Maybe I’ve felt that way from before the fire… I’m a contaminant. A stain. Tarnish that needs to be buffed and polished away. 

Huh….

Well…. Well anyway. Where was I. yeah. Okay.

So the reasons were there. The reasons were complicated. The reasons are STILL there and Still complicated. But the result was simple.

If I didn’t want to spoil things or stain them I just had to clean. 

Everything.

Constantly. 

I needed to scrub away the smoke. Especially… Especially in that spot.  

If I think about it even now I can feel it. Smell it. Taste it. It burns my nose. Burns my eyes. Everywhere. The smoke was worse than the heat even. It was just… I couldn’t breathe. Truly couldn’t breathe. Even as I drew breath. 

I… really never want to experience that again. 

But I think…. Also the smoke might be a good thing? Because the fact that I can still smell it means I have to face it. I maybe am not dealing with it in the BEST way but at least I’m dealing with it. I’m not hiding from it and running anymore. 

Which is new for me. 

But… okay enough of my psychoanalyzing myself. That doesn’t really have to do with… the story? I guess?

What happened.

So I was cleaning. You know this. I know this. Lan Zhan DEFINITELY knows this. 

At first it was just that spot. But as the smell spread so did my cleaning. 

Like… I never left Lan Zhan’s place a mess, but like on our Saturdates I wouldn’t clean up immediately either. Like at the end of the day we’d pick up together. It was like a joint thing.

And when it was just a day or two for a few hours or whatever. Idk… it was fine. It was different. But now that I’m living here, always, 24/7 this is where I legit reside, I don’t know it was just not the same. He was doing me such a huge favor and I KNOW it had to inconvenience him. And it was temporary, but I didn’t want him to hate me at the end of it. 

I didn’t want to derail his life. So I just… cleaned everything… right away. Always. 

I think I went through a full bottle and a half of cleaner the first few weeks I was there. And soon that smell of smoke was replaced by chemicals. 

Not. Better.

But I didn’t know what to do. I tried changing cleaners but that just made it worse.

But like I couldn’t stop. And I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was until Christmas Eve. And that was because Lan Zhan literally told me to stop. 

I was home alone. Lan Zhan had gone out to get some supplies for SangSang’s party. And the smell came back. The smoke. From that spot. 

It was… Normally it came back at night and it had lessened since I started sleeping in Lan Zhan’s room again. It’s hard to smell smoke when the sandalwood scent of his skin is just right there.

But the smoke always gets worse when I’m alone. Or it did…. Does? Less so now.

Ugh. I’m sorry it’s hard to get my thoughts in order on this. But anyway

The smell came back. Almost as bad as the first time. From the place I’d hid when I arrived after the fire. And so I started to clean it again. My hands were raw and it burned so bad but I couldn’t stop scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. And---

 Okay enough you get the point. 

I’d meant to just clean it and move on but… I don’t know. I couldn’t stop or lost track of time or both I guess. But all of a sudden Lan Zhan was there. 

I don’t think I’ve felt shame flood through my body quite so quickly as that before. I don’t even know why I was ashamed really. Like I guess on some level I knew I was being ridiculous. That it wasn’t necessary. That I was going too far in an unneeded extreme. I didn’t want Lan Zhan to know, but of course he knew. I’d seen him lighting more incense around the house to cover up the smell I’d left in my wake. 

In trying to avoid the problem I had caused the problem I’d been trying to avoid.

Par for the course. Good Job Wei Ying. :/

I didn’t even hear him come home. I didn’t see  him approach me. I didn’t realize he was there at all until I heard him call out to me and ask what I was doing.

I panicked then, which of course meant I gave him a big ol’ grin. (these grins never seem to work on him anymore. He knows me too well. Still, can’t help it.)

“Nothing!” I said, sounding WAY too cheerful even to my own ears. “Just cleaning!”

He pointed out that we had both already cleaned the night before. Or like the previous night? I don’t remember. Anyway we had just cleaned. Like normal cleaning. His routine. I helped. 

But what could I do? I couldn’t admit I’d been cleaning religiously for weeks. I couldn’t admit that my hands were burned and cracked and not healing from the fire because of the scrubbing and the chemicals and just… everything. I couldn’t say that I felt so ashamed of being a soot mark against his life that I was trying desperately with everything I had to rub it clean. To rub myself clean.

I couldn’t admit even to myself what that really meant. I wasn’t something with soot on it. I was the soot. And if you rub out the soot, there is no more soot. I wanted to rub myself out. I wanted to erase myself. 

I’ve wanted to erase myself for a long time, I think. 

Not that I wanted to die. I just wanted… 

I don’t know what I wanted. To not exist to begin with? Or just not as I am. Do… I want to be someone else? Or do I just want to be a better version of myself.

Because not all of me is bad. Sometimes I’m so arrogant. And cocky. And other times I just want to beat the shit out of myself.

But not all of me is bad. 

Ugh…. self-identity and shit is just too complicated. Can we please just become ferrets? Ferrets seem cool. Let’s just be ferrets. When’s the last time a ferret had an identity crisis? Never! Because they’re ferrets.

Anyway.

I been caught. Lan Zhan could see where I was and what I was doing. He’s not stupid. 

He took the cleaning stuff out of my hands and asked me what was really going on. Because obviously? Right? 

So what could I do but admit to everything I just rambled on about not being able to admit to. Because when push comes to shove I can’t hide anything from this man. Not really. 

So I told him… maybe not in so many words. But I told him that I know he cares about being clean. And that I didn’t want him to be upset to not living to that standard. That I didn’t want to inconvenience him. 

He told me that he could never be upset with me. (Which isn’t true because he was upset with me trying not to make him upset but that’s dangerously close to a paradox so I’ll let it slide.)

He told me.

He said…..

He told me that he LIKES who I am. 

And I could feel the weight of those words. It’s just…. I really believe that he meant to like… like the CORE of me. He LIKES who I am. He likes ME. 

He has seen me. He’s seen me at my best and my worst. He’s dealt with it. My family drama. My fire. He’s been dragged into it all. And he has seen to the very depth of my soul. 

And he’s decided that he likes it. That me. That core. He still likes me. 

I don’t.. I can’t imagine why… but he does. And I believe him. 

He took my hands (I had to try VERY hard not to wince because fuck they hurt.) and he pulled me so carefully to the couch. 

And he sat down next to me.

And we talked. Well…. He talked. For once I was quiet (mostly) and just listened. 

He told me about his uncle and how he was brought up in such a strict way. He told me that while he can’t change his own habits it’s just that- habits. Not expectations. And he very pointedly does NOT want house rules. After growing up with so many strict rules and punishments for breaking them. That isn’t what home should mean, he said.  And so in his own home there were no such rules. 

And then he said…

He said

That he wants to see the evidence that I was there. That he wants to come home and see traces of me. 

And… I mean… Okay so I’d spent so long trying so hard to not leave a trace of myself, that I had never CONSIDERED that maybe he wanted to see those traces. 

He mentioned that it was proof that… that the worst hadn’t happened.  He… Apparently I really scared him. Or rather the thought of what COULD have happened scared him. 

“This is your home too,” he said. “As long as you want it, it will be yours.”

I avoided jokes this time, though the urge was there. I was afraid of what he’d say if I said “Well then I guess you’re stuck with me forever then.”

But I don’t think I could have spoken anyway with the lump that had formed in my throat. So instead I threw myself at him. And he accepted me. He held me so close. 

After a moment I managed to swallow that lump to tell him he was too good to me. Because he is. But he said that I deserve all the good. 

Which made me laugh… but somehow.. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. I just… Hearing those words. From him. It was a release I hadn’t known I needed. So I laughed and just… held on to him. 

He let me. He’s so patient. Always waiting for me. 

So, I decided to share a bit more. It took a minute. With the words came the smoke. And once I said them he’d have to breathe it in. 

But I did. Because… Lan Zhan wanted to share the burden with me. And I’m… I’m starting to be willing to let him. 

I told him that I didn’t want to be a burden. 

He shook his head, and I think he was going to say something else, but I kept going. 

I breathed in deep. Smoke. I breathed out. Smoke. But he let me talk. 

I told him about it. THe smoke. The smell. How it follows me. Everywhere I go. Everything I touch. Contaminated by smoke. I told him how it was especially strong in the corner where he’d found me. 

And then this jackass absolute angel fucking specimine of a man just said that we should rearrange the room then. 

Break away the association. 

I tried to tell him that we couldn’t do that! The living room was how he wanted it and rearranging his life was specifically the thing I’d been trying to AVOID. 

And so he JUST DEADLIFTED THE END OF THE COUCH WITH ME ON IT AND JUST STARTED MOVING IT!

WHAT THE HELL……..???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

FUCK.

I mean I was too devastated at the time to be horny but now??

Okay anyway. 

So since it clearly didn’t matter what I had to say about it at that point, I decided I could at least help. 

So we moved the room around. It didn’t take that long actually and the end result is actually rather nice. It ended up opening the living room up a bit more. And… 

The selfish part of my heart….

It’s ours. Our living room. It’s arranged how WE want it. Because he asked for my input. And we’d try it. And if WE didn’t like it WE moved it again. Until it was how WE liked it. 

And oh…. Oh…. We. 

I like we.

And… I think we… WE might…. There’s a real chance…

We…

He asked me how it was after we finished. I breathed in deep. And smelled only Sandalwood. 

“Better.”

He smiled at me and… The taste of smoke was replaced by the memory of the taste of him. That kiss that never should have happened. I just… I wanted nothing more than to repeat what had happened. I wanted him to press me into that couch and not let me up. I wanted…. 

You don’t need to hear my sick fantasies. You get the point. 

I really really wanted to kiss him. And kiss him. And KISS him. 

And… uh… well… turns out that my wish didn’t take TOO long to be granted actually…. 

Mmm…. maybe I should say this in order though. Because it happened at the party. And it was…. Well….. It wasn’t a KISS really. Like a KISS KISS. but it was still a kiss. And just… The longing hadn’t gone away. It hadn’t even dimmed since that first kiss that never should have happened. But this… this just made it 1000 times stronger. (I’m writing about Christmas now but it’s getting late. So I’ll just post this for now and finish the rest later)

[illumynare]

Destiny Fic: though lovers be lost (love is not)

Summary: In another world, Shun Li did not survive the Transmission Crisis.

Pairings: Ikora Rey/Shun Li.

Notes: Also available on AO3.

“Hawthorne,” Ikora says to the woman circling her and the other Vanguards. “It’s one thing for us to put our lives on the line, but this doesn’t have to be your fight. You’re not . . .”

As we once were, she thinks, staring at this woman who has saved so many people the Vanguard could not, yet is only fragile flesh and bone. Only ever mortal, never offered the chance of a second life.

She thinks, We were made to protect you.

“A Guardian?” Hawthorne demands, her head held high and proud without doubt, sniper rifle slung over her shoulder as confidently as any Guardian’s weapon. “You think you’ve cornered the market on sacrifice? You forget that we’ve had to survive without the Light all our lives.”

Ikora meets her gaze and the challenge therein.

“No,” says she says. “I don’t.”

#

The first time that Ikora Rey met Shun Li, she wondered if she might have to kill him.

She didn’t know him, then. She was undercover in the Last City on behalf of Osiris—or rather, the orders that Osiris surely would have given, if he were not too consumed by his theories of the Vex—tracking down a black market where certain unscrupulous Guardians sold forbidden artifacts.

Shun was also undercover, hunting the same criminals on behalf of Owl Sector. But Ikora didn’t know that when they arrived at the same door. She only knew that he was using almost identical forged credentials. For a few seconds, she wondered what kind of criminal he was, and if she would have to dispose of him.

Then Shun—who knew her, despite her disguise, from watching a thousand Crucible matches—smiled at the doorkeeper and lied, saying that the confusion in the paperwork was simply due to them being newly married.

In time, Ikora would come to know many of Shun’s faults, but she would always have to give him this: he never hesitated.

#

Io is silent.

The whole solar system is silent to Ikora now. As Warlock Vanguard, Ikora was constantly aware of the thoughts of other Warlocks, the flow of Light between all Guardians. She felt, endlessly, the song of the Traveler and the whispers of the Void.

Ghaul ended that.

Crippled, broken, diminished—her Ghost unable to do more than whisper—Ikora fled to Io, hoping for . . . wisdom, perhaps. Answers.

Hope.

What she finds is dark skies and silence, the absence of the Light. What she finds is guilt.

Because, stripped of the Traveler’s power, with only one life left to lose . . . Ikora is afraid. She is terribly, terribly afraid of dying her final death.

She wonders if she always has been.

#

It took only a few muttered words for Shun and Ikora to realize they were on the same mission. But completing that mission took much longer.

One night turned into a week, and one week turned into three. They successfully bought eight fragments of Ahamkara bones, but it was always through a dealer. The Guardian (or Guardians) who supplied them did not appear.

In the meantime, Ikora and Shun—in their false identities—became familiar to the black market. They noticed people trying to follow them after they left, to see where they lived.

The logical answer was to make the deception complete. Shun rented the apartment; Ikora could not spend all her time there, given her duties as a Warlock, but she was present as often as she could be. Her cover demanded it. Shun cooked for her, and played an arcophone in the evenings.

It was . . . not unpleasant. Ikora had never had any patience for the civilians who groveled at her feet, but Shun was refreshingly free of such reverence. He was no part, either, of the increasingly fractured Tower: the suspicions about Osiris, the whispers against the Speaker, the worship of both. Sometimes he could be infuriatingly glib, but he had a glittering, eager curiosity almost worthy of a Warlock.

Ikora began to look forward to the time she spent with him, haggling in the black market, betting in illegal games, working out their next move in the investigation. The pressure of his hand clasped about hers ceased to be troublesome and became a comfort.

Then came the fragrant, candle-lit midsummer night when they finally were finally allowed to enter the secret courtyard. When they saw a Guardian—his Ghost bobbing dumbly, hopelessly by his shoulder—hold up Ahamkara bones and offer them to the highest bidder.

Ikora drew a gentle breath and reached inside her coat to cock Invective.

Shun cocked his head, grinned, and grasped his knives.

They both fought in the melee that followed. Shun would have expected no less of Ikora, and she would have demanded no less of him. In the end, the rogue Guardian’s brains were splattered against the wall, his Ghost was in Ikora’s palm, and all the details of what transpired where in Shun Li’s report.

They did not return home at once afterwards—not to the Tower, or Owl Sector, or even their false home. Instead they wandered the City, punch-drunk with adrenaline and success and glory. At two in the morning, they were giggling over ramen together; she called him simply “Shun,” and he called her “Korrie.”

Very, very late that night—or absurdly early that morning—they stumbled into their rented apartment together. They grasped, briefly, at each other’s elbows. Lips found lips, and for one moment as they kissed, the only Light that mattered was what crackled between their bodies.

Then they fell into bed and slept curled around each other, as innocent as kittens.

When they woke, they both remembered their duties, and they didn’t speak of what had passed in the night. At least, not exactly. But after they had both made their reports to the Vanguard and been commended, after they were standing together in the Tower courtyard and were the closest thing to a simple Shun and Ikora that could be imagined in daylight—

Then, beneath the shade of a potted tree, Shun turned to Ikora.

“You know,” he said, “there’s an old City law. If two people call themselves married for at least a month, it’s legal.”

The look he slanted at her was bold and hesitant at once. And Ikora, for one moment, imagined responding in kind.

But she was the Traveler’s chosen, destined to live forever, or else to die in horrifying agony when the Darkness overcame her. Shun was simply, helplessly mortal, no matter how much he had aided and comforted her these past few weeks.

Ikora told him as much. And in the end, he accepted her decree.

#

“It’s time I rejoined my fireteam,” says Ikora to the Guardian, gazing up at the dark-and-glowing skies of Io as she readies herself to die.

She has died a hundred deaths at least, maybe more. All those lives, spent so easily—and for what? For her to cower in the shadows, now that she has only one life remaining to lose?

No. Ikora will fight Ghaul, and she will likely die, but as she stares past Io’s horizon, she knows: she will not be defeated again.

(Not like when she was defeated by the Transmission Crisis, not like she was defeated when—)

#

The last time that Ikora saw Shun, he was wrapped inside the clumsy, padded bulk of an isolation rig as he brought her records containing the dark side of Clovis Bray. The rig was nothing like the simple helmet and gloves that Guardians wore even in hard vacuum. Ikora could see only his eyes through the face-plate, and they were . . . tired.

The last time she heard him was through the comms, as he spoke to her from the hospital.

“Restricted leave?” she asked numbly. “What did you do?”

He sighed. “Forgot to put on part of the isolation rig. Too tired. I can't remember yesterday at all. Ramos will take over the duties of Liaison to the Vanguard. You treat her nice, okay? She's nervous.”

Ikora remembered his hand on her shoulder. His mouth against hers. The thousand words that had never seemed quite right to say.

“You,” she said, “rest well.”

She could almost see the smile in his voice as he said, “I will.”

#

“There will be no coming back,” says Ikora to her fireteam, to all her doubts and fears.

“It’s worth it,” says Cayde-6, fearless as ever.

C’mon, Korrie, Shun whispers in her memories, and in her heart, Ikora agrees.

#

The people of the City spoke as if death were only sleeping; they said that their dead “rested in peace.” But Ikora knew it was not so. She had died, and found only dark loneliness. She had lived, and found the ones she cared for gone.

She remembered, over and over, her fatal conversation with Acting Liaison Ramos:

The Hidden, the Witches, and our research corps may have had a breakthrough, using the information that Berriole has unearthed. We think we can neutralize this mite. The only problem is, we might kill Shun in the process.

Are you waiting for permission?

It seemed respectful to ask.

Do it, and the Traveler's Light shine on you.

But the Traveler’s Light, perhaps, was only for Guardians. The experimental treatment cobbled together so quickly and desperately . . . did not work for anyone still human. The Guardians infected with the Mite were set free. But Shun, cold in his coffin, paid the price.

Ikora, standing in a Tower that now felt strangely empty, tithed on that price over and over.

#

Ghaul has been dead for months, the Traveller and the Guardians restored for that much time as well. Ikora has found a courage that she didn’t fully own before, and it straightens her spine as she stands at her place in the Tower.

Sometimes she remembers Shun Li. Sometimes she mourns him, and wishes he could have been more to her. But Ikora is a Warlock, both the question and the answer. Whatever remains unfinished in her, she will find a way to complete.

At last there comes a day—the air is sweet and lazy with summer—when Ikora stands in the Tower, hands clasped behind her back, and almost does not mourn. Almost, she is at peace.

Five new Guardians have already been raised since Ghaul’s defeat, so Ikora no longer fears that the power of the Traveler is somehow spent. When she hears that a newly-raised Warlock has come to the Tower, she nods and says calmly, “Show him in.”

She will help this new Warlock. It’s her duty and her joy, for which she once abandoned Shun, and she still hasn’t lost that prize.

But when Ikora turns to him, her breath stops in her throat. Because the ragged cloak of a newly-raised Warlock is familiar, and so is the plain shell of the Ghost at his side, but the Guardian himself—

It’s Shun.

Ikora has never believed that the Light and the Traveler have any kindly purpose in whom they raise as Guardians, but maybe now she does.

Maybe it’s time for her to stop being surprised by what mere mortals can do.

“So I hear I’m a . . . ‘Guardian’?” he says, and there’s so much missing from his curious gaze that doesn’t recognize her, but there’s so much she loves and knows still there. “Don’t remember my name, though.”

“I do,” says Ikora, and crosses the little courtyard to him, takes his hands. “Your name is Shun.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

what about reader is a student at Oxenfurt Academy but gets beaten and mistreated by one of her teachers until Jaskier, who stopped for a break and came to visit with Geralt, finds her crying and discovers the truth? A fluff thing with him comforting and protecting her and refusing to leave till he makes sure she doesn’t get that treatment again. Reader eventually starting to develop feelings for him? Thank you sm if you’ll do that!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,291Rating: G but TW for references to abuse of a student by a teacher (moderate, but still)Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: Hey love, this is probably a total piece of fiction but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t toss out a quick note that if you or someone you know is being abused by a teacher or anyone else, please know that it’s not ok and if you need help you can always text 741741 (crisis text line) or reach out to someone you trust.

The words hurt worse than the bruises.

You were no stranger to physical pain, rough and tumble from a young age, though you wouldn’t pretend you hadn’t cried out when he hit you. No one heard or if they did nobody came. Maybe this was just the way things were done at Oxenfurt. Maybe cruelty was just a small price they were willing to pay to ensure results. His words had been harsher, more critical, confirming every fear and harsh thought you had about yourself. You’d kept a brave face, walking out of the room with your head held high and holding in your tears until you found someplace to hide. The large stone gargoyles that guarded the entrance to a long abandoned greenhouse had become your favorite spot to run away when you were overwhelmed and needed to cry. You took some comfort in the solitude though you were so terribly lonely. You were able to weep freely, sob without fear of judgment because no one but you probably even knew about this spot anymore.

“…most of my days when I studied here. Ah if those gargoyles could speak.”

A voice you did not know approached and you tried to quiet your crying.

“Yes it’s – oh!” the owner of the voice wove into view, stopping short when he saw you. His pale blue eyes took in the sight of you, red faced and teary and looking a mess, and without breaking eye contact he said over his shoulder, “Geralt you go on to the university, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

The unseen Geralt made a vague noise in response and then you assumed he left because the man approached you, his kind eyes filled with concern.

“Hello,” he said, “Having a rough day?”

You nodded, sniffling and trying to staunch the flow of tears that seemed endless. He crouched near you but not too close, trying not to scare you away.

“Something like that,” you said, trying to force a smile. He nodded and then he noticed the bruises on your knuckles and without thinking twice he brushed back the hair you’d tried to use to hide the mark on your face. His eyes widened and his lips drew into a thin line, taut with anger.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” you murmured.

“It’s not fine,” he insisted and then took a deep breath, forcing his voice calm, “This isn’t fine. Who did this to you?”

“It’s f-”

“Was it another student?”

You shook your head, worried he might go through the university and pull every single student before her to identify if she didn’t put that idea to rest immediately.

“So it was a professor,” he said, his voice lowering to a dark, husky pitch.

“Listen I don’t want to make any trouble,” you insisted.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, leaning in closer and wiping away some of the tears that still fell. The azure eyes stared into you with a gentle intensity, willing you to believe the words he spoke next; “You didn’t deserve this. There is nothing you could have done to make this ok. The only person to blame for this is the one who did it.”

At the fresh wave of tears inspired by his kind words he held open his arms in a welcoming gesture. Usually you wouldn’t have even considered crying in front of, let alone on, a total stranger. But there was something about this man that made you feel safe and so you dove into his arms and let him hug you tight while you cried. He murmured comforting words. Never saying “it’s ok” because you both knew it wasn’t. Not trying to tell you to “stop crying” or “hush” because he wanted you to cry and to let out everything you were feeling. But when you were done crying he gently pulled you back from his tear-stained doublet and fixed you with a very serious expression.

“I need you to tell me who did this,” he said.

“Why do you care? Do you work here?” you asked, though he didn’t look old enough to be a professor.

“No, in fact I graduated not long ago. But I have a little pull and a big friend and I am not leaving this campus until whoever did this is taken to task. Frankly he’ll be lucky if he leaves with his head,” the last words were bitten out harshly and you enjoyed his ferocity a bit more than you expected. You took a deep breath and told him the professor’s name. He scoffed and made a little comment under his breath, something that suggested he wasn’t surprised to learn the identity of the offender, and he rose from his seat, extending a hand to you. You took it and squeezed it for comfort as you marched closer through the halls. You feared people would call you a snitch or say that it was just more proof that you didn’t belong, but Jaskier’s firm grip and steadfast march helped bolster you and remind you that what he said was true. If it had happened to anyone else you would have been horrified. You were allowed to be just as offended and angry on your own behalf. You deserved the same care and respect from yourself that you gave to other people.

“Ah, Geralt! We have a mission,” Jaskier announced as they approached a large man in black leather whose yellow eyes and silver hair were shocking but oddly beautiful. His eyes flicked from the clasped hands to the mark on your face and he looked back at Jaskier.

“Do we know their name?” he asked.

“Oh I didn’t ask, I’m Jaskier by the way, this is Geralt, and you are?” Jaskier asked, turning to you.

“Y/N,” you answered.

“I meant the person we’re hunting,” Geralt said.

“Oh! Yes,” Jaskier replied, and gave Geralt the man’s name. Geralt nodded and began walking but Jaskier turned to you. “Stay here and I will be back soon.”

You sat on the little bench and waited as Jaskier ran after Geralt. You waited there for some time, expecting any moment to hear… something. Some screaming, maybe? Or maybe it had just been a test you’d failed. Or maybe you’d imagined him, a sweet fantasy of someone around who cared about you and wanted to make sure you were safe. You were about to leave when you saw Jaskier return.

“Where’s your friend?” you asked, rising to meet him.

“Ah he is informing the school that they are in need of a new professor,” Jaskier explained enigmatically. You didn’t’ see any blood spatter on him which was good but you did notice that his knuckles looked a bit darker than they had before.

“I can’t begin to thank you enough,” you began but he waved the words away.

“It was truly the least I could do. He couldn’t be allowed to keep doing that. You were very brave to tell me. Are you new here?” he asked. You nodded and he gave you a warm smile.

“I was new here once as well. I’m going to be in town for a bit as my friend works, could I show you around a bit? Let you in on all of Oxenfurt’s best kept secrets?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. Your heart flip-flopped a little but you tried not to read into his words too much. He was clearly just a very nice man, nothing more to it than that.

“I’d like that,” you said.

“Perfect,” he replied and then leaned in and gave you a little kiss on the cheek, pulling back just far enough to meet your eyes as he added, “It’s a date.”

[1980s-robin]

robin x reader

pairing: robin x fem!reader

fandom: stranger things

requested: yes

summary: the summer of 1985 had ended, robin has some new friends and she’s back in school for her senior year. while robin has come to terms with her sexuality more and more throughout the summer, she hasn’t found someone to date; until she does. robin plays the tuba in band, but reader? well she’s the captain of the girls soccer team, popular for her school spirit, kind smile and determination. but robin starts developing feelings for her, and she starts feeling nervous around the girl.

a/n: this request stuck out to me, i absolutely loved it so i just can’t wait for everyone to read it ! i did take some liberties since i set it after season three, i also made the reader popular but kind because plot. also i really enjoyed writing this and have so many ideas of how it could have more than one part, so if you guys want another part please let me know ! also posted on my wattpad @/chiefhargroves

warnings: some language, not much though. fluff, and discussions of sexuality. minor season three spoilers. 

word count: 2.3k words

Robin had quite the summer, but it’s not like she could tell people about it. The people who knew what she encountered, the people who were there when she dealt with the Russians and the monster, were the only people she was able to tell. So when school came back, she was basically alone. The kids were entering high school, but they had their relationships and their friend groups and she was a senior, so befriending sophomores wasn’t the most normal thing that she could do during the day. For everyone else, it was business as usual, going back to school. But that one summer changed everything for Robin.

Not only had Robin seen things that she didn’t even think possible, gained a job at a mall and then had the mall destroyed, and then have to hide her secrets from the entire town leading to many conspiracy theorists coming through to figure out what had actually happened. But she had fully come to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian, she had no desire for men and he was encouraged to accept this by, none other, than Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington, who wasn’t even there to help her and be a friend to her because he had graduated before she had. It’s not as if Hawkins was the same as it had always been, the incident with Starcourt had caused quite a stir in the town and the people of Hawkins and adjacent areas were beginning to figure out that strange things were happening in the town. But, no one’s summer had been as strange as Robin’s had been, and she knew that and couldn’t say a thing about it. 

The girl didn’t think she would have a normal senior year, she didn’t think she would have crushes or best friends or any of that, but then she started paying attention to you. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the captain of the soccer team, one of the most popular girls in the grade not because you were rude or snobbish, but because you were kind, full of spirit and compassion. It was a month into school and Robin had already attended every single soccer game the school held just to see you. You took notice, but you thought she was just being supportive of the team. That changed when you two were paired together for a science project. 

“Robin? Robin!” You called, waving your hand in front of her face which drew her out of her thoughts. “What?” She asked, clearly lost in thought about the summer or… you… she didn’t even know anymore. “I asked when you want to meet after school for our project, I’m free tonight.” You said, a bit of suspicion on your voice. “Are you alright? You’ve just been zoning out a lot this week.” It was true, Robin had copied notes off of just about every single person in class that week because she hadn’t been paying attention to anything. At that point, she hadn’t even been thinking about college because she had been so distracted by everything that she had been going through, everything that she had been through.”I’m fine I just haven’t been sleeping very well.” Robin said, trying to put on her most convincing smile. “To answer your other question, I’m free later too. Where do you want to meet?” She asked, knowing she’d have to cancel plans with Steve but since he’d been encouraging her to make a move, he would understand. “Come over to my house, my parents have work until ten tonight.” You told her, a smile on your face. A smile that made Robin’s heart race, a smile that gave her too much hope that it was something more than just a friendly smile. She swallowed those feelings back; “See you then.” Robin answered, her statement quickly followed by the bell that signaled the next class.

Little did Robin know, you had been going through your own struggle however you were in it completely alone. The thing was, you were one of the popular kids for being kind however most of the people that were friends with you were either assholes or just wanted to be friends with your public persona and not who you are as a person. They wanted to be friends with the captain of the soccer team, they didn’t want to be friends with (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a young girl who was going through a sexual identity crisis and felt like she might only be attracted to women. You didn’t tell anyone, because you figured you were almost finished with high school so there was no point in risking everything just to be happy and yourself in front of the entire school. 

A knock at your front door was heard, causing you to drop the book that was in your hand and walk to the door, immediately being greeted by Robin. She looked flustered, you were about to greet her before you heart the car horn behind her and looked over her shoulder only to see none other than Steve Harrington. “Remember what I told you, Robin!” He said, before driving away, leaving the two girls alone.

“S-Sorry about that,” Robin said, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ve ever stuttered before, Steve must have really done a number on you with whatever it was that he said.” You commented as you moved out of the way so she could come in. “Um… since it’s raining just take your shoes off, my parents don’t like it when I track mud through the house.” You said before you moved towards the kitchen. 

“I set some stuff aside for the project, it’s in my room I don’t know if you wanted to work there or down here… do you want tea or something before we start?” You asked her, noting that Robin had taken off her shoes and was wearing Star Wars socks with red lightsabers on one side and blue lightsabers on the other. “They were a gift from one of Steve’s kids.” She said, noticing your stare at her socks. “No, no I like Star Wars. I think they’re cool.” You said before you motioned to the coffee pot and the tea kettle. “There’s some coke in the fridge too.” You said, turning to her. 

After a few hours, you two had your project for science laid out, the goal was to make the chemical that was assigned without blowing everything up. Of course, the first group to do this needed to present it to the class so chances are you were the only group that was actually doing the project. “Okay, okay. Trial four.” You said, holding one of the components to the beaker and turning to Robin. “You ready?” You asked her, just hoping it was going to work. “Yeah, go,” Robin said, but you caught her small step backward in case it blew up again. You slid your goggles down and poured the component into the beaker, it seemed the bubble normally for a few seconds before simmering. 

“We did it!” You said enthusiastically, Robin high fived you and stepped closer to look at it herself. But, you hadn’t done it. Because right as you both went to look at it the beaker quickly started bubbling again and exploded out of the top of the beaker and onto the both of you. “Shit!” You yelped as you jumped back, Robin following you but both of you slipping on the newly wet floor and falling next to each other. The chemical wouldn’t hurt either of you with it getting on your skin, it didn’t smell great, though.

After the initial shock wore off you both turned to look at each other both you started laughing. “Oh my God, we’re complete idiots aren’t we?” You said, in between laughter, removing your chemical covered goggles so you could actually see. “We’re not idiots we’re just stupid-” Robin replied, cutting herself off when she realized that didn’t make any sense. 

Robin and you took turns with the shower, “You can take some of my clothes.” You said as Robin walked out in a towel, handing her a bathrobe however the blush on your cheeks was hard to miss. “I put your clothes in the uh… the washer so they don’t stain.” You said, trying to keep your composer as best as you could. “Steve probably wouldn’t like it if I saw you like this.” You said, a hint of jealousy in your voice. 

Robin let out a laugh, “I’m not dating Steve, we’re friends.” She said, oh if only you knew the truth. “B-But you two are so close.” You said as you turned to face her as she put the bathrobe on over the towel, just to make sure that she didn’t get any water anywhere. “I- Steve knows why we can’t be together. He’s actually been encouraging me to make a move on the person I like.” She said as she sat down on the other side of the bed, but you just swung your legs over and scooted over to sit next to her. “Oh. Who is he?” You asked, but you noticed that she seemed a bit caught off guard. “He… is a she,” Robin responded simply. Your eyes widened, “Who?” You asked again. Oh God, you were just going to be jealous that it wasn’t you. 

“I can’t tell you, you’ll only be mad.” You raised your eyebrow, “Why would I be mad? Is it my mom?” You asked, which caused her to snort. “(Y/N), I’ve never met your mom.” Robin verified. “T-Then why would I be mad?” You asked her, of course, you would be mad that it wasn’t you but she didn’t know that. “She’s uh, well she’s this girl with (Y/H/C) and (Y/E/C), and she’s funny and popular and really sweet. She’s also very accepting like, the only other person who’s as accepting as she is, is Steve.” Robin said, which caused you to nod. “She sounds nice.” You said, looking away to hide the obvious sadness on your face.

“Yeah, Yeah. She is, she’s really nice.” She told you, and you looked over at her. “What’s her name.” You asked her. “(Y/N).” Robin responded and you tilted her head. “Yeah, what’s her name though?” You asked her and she snorted yet again. “She’s you, I like you (Y/N). Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been coming to all of your games and… practically running away every time you come by?” Your heart was pounding at that point, “I guess I should have, you’re the calmest person I’ve ever met I just- didn’t think you’d feel the same way, I haven’t told anyone that I like girls.” You responded before you realized you had confessed how you felt. “I’m sorry, did you just say the same way?” Robin asked, and you nodded. 

The world seemed to slow down as you both kind of looked at each other, processing the fact that you had both just confessed your feelings for each other. You started leaning in, and Robin followed your lead before your lips met, your hand finding her forearm as you shared a very light kiss. As you both pulled back you both noticed the goofy smiles on the others face. “I can’t believe my first kiss was with someone who isn’t even wearing clothes.” You replied, and she raised her eyebrows. “That was your first kiss?” She asked and your cheeks turned red. “I- There was no one else that I wanted to kiss so I… didn’t.” You responded. “Well then, I’m honored to be your first.” She said causing you to let out a giggle.

“Do you um, do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow night?” Robin asked you, rather awkwardly. “Of course but I have to ask; when Steve dropped you off is this what he was encouraging you to do?” You asked her curiously, causing her to nod. “Y-Yeah he’s kind of been encouraging me to make a move for the past month.” She said, causing you to nod. 

After Robin got dressed you both made your way down to the main room, where the small bubble television was rested on the stand. You turned the television on and turned it onto a new episode of Cheers but you both just let it play in the background. You turned to Robin, “So, you said that you haven’t met my mom. Do you want to wait for your clothes, because if you do you’ll probably meet her.” You said, to which she shook her head. “I do, but I can’t Steve’s going to be here any minute, I’ll get them tomorrow.” She said with a wink causing you to laugh before you heart a horn from outside. It had to be Steve. You both stood up and made your way to the door, opening it and both of you stepping outside before she pulled you into one last kiss before making her way to the car. “See you tomorrow!” She called and you grinned, “See you tomorrow, Robin!” You said before you went back into your house which a giant, goofy grin on your face.

As soon as Robin sat down she was met with a giant hug from Steve, “You did it, I’m so proud of you!” He said over enthusiastically causing Robin to laugh and push him lightly. “Stop it, Steve.” She said, however, she couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “So, I guess you rule then?” He asked her, to which she rolled her eyes as she put her seat belt on. “You already knew that I rule, Dingus.” She said before they both drove off.

[a-ratt]

Into the Mari-verse (for real this time)

Alright. Alright. Alright.

I’m back. That’s not a good thing. Maybe it is. I don’t know.

Okay, so, like, a week ago, I made a post about a WIP fanfic I was writing, but, uh, that may or may not happen idk. Anyways, I thought I might as well throw out all the notes I took and ideas and concepts I came up with, so, here goes:

The Goal:

So, when I first brainstormed this I wanted to think about how this would have to differ from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse. First things first, the main character, Marinette, is an established superhero who’s confident about herself, both in her personal and superhero life. Meanwhile, Miles Morales is a normal teenager who suddenly gets superpowers and has to learn how to be Spider-Man to save New York City.

Taking that into consideration, I had to write out a completely different arc for Marinette. From reading multiple fanfics and posts critiquing the show (credits to @zoe-oneesama @miraculouscontent and others.) I decided the best course of action would be for Marinette to work on her self-confidence. Now, here’s the thing, she’s already self-confident. At least, that’s how she’s portrayed. (Unless she’s in the same room as Adrien.) But, through reviewing the show’s canon and plotting out how characters should be growing, I decided that she’s probably got a lot of pent up emotions. Chief among them is probably anger at always being walked on and taken for granted, especially after Chameleon.

With the goal being more introspective, I was also able to validate the idea of the Mari-verse. (i.e. bringing multiple Marinettes into the same reality.) Each one has their own issue that they’re dealing with and each one helps the others with dealing with those issues.

The Marinettes:

Okay, so this is the real meat of the story. This is what everyone’s probably coming for. The base concept of Into the Mari-verse, is that multiple, alternate Marinettes converge on the same reality due to some phenomenon (I’ll explain that later.)

Anyways, the final total of Marinettes to show up in the story was five:

Ladybug!Marinette: The canon Marinette who received the Ladybug Earrings and became the Miraculous Ladybug. She has lived a rather successful life, saving Paris and getting A’s at school. Recently, she’s hit some rough terrain thanks to the return of Lila and her plot to turn her class against her. Thanks to her, Marinette has become tired and detached from her personal life; depressed, but not to an extreme.

This has led to a crisis of identity. Unlike most stories, however, she beholds her superhero alter ego, to the point that she questions her role as Marinette. Though Tikki argues that she shouldn’t neglect her personal life, Marinette cannot help but notice that people take her for granted, but they worship Ladybug.

Butterfly!Marinette: An alternate Marinette that succeeded in giving away the Ladybug Earrings to Alya in the Origins episodes. While Ladybird and Chat Noir continued to protect Paris, Marinette remained a side character. She stayed true to her values, standing up to bullies and helping others, but her she often feels guilt and experiences moments of self-loathing for pushing such a heavy burden as the duties of a superhero onto someone else; i.e. the new girl in class and her best-friend at that. Her closeness with Alya, however, has also translated into favoritism by Ladybird and Chat Noir, something Hawkmoth noticed.

During the events of Hero’s Day, Marinette was captured and used as bait, but after being freed, she helped distract Hawkmoth long enough for Team Miraculous to regroup and defeat the super villain themselves. She was taken to safety before the final fight and in the aftermath, crossed paths with an exhausted Gabriel Agreste who claimed to have been transformed into the Collector. Unbeknownst to either of them, Nuuru stole the Butterfly Brooch from Gabriel and stowed away inside of Marinette’s purse. Later that day, she discovered him. He convinced her to take up the superhero mantle once again and she became Le Monarque. Her inexperience has resulted in self-doubt and a fear of failure.

Bee!Marinette: (credited to @zoe-oneesama) An alternate Marinette that had the Ladybug Earrings stolen from her by Chloé without her ever realizing she had them. While Scarlet Lady and Chat Noir defended Paris (mostly Chat Noir), Marinette remained a resolute figure of confidence and courage among her peers. After receiving the Bee Comb, she became the Miraculous Marigold and clashed with Scarlet Lady over the role of team leader during akuma attacks. Her constant taking command of situations and pushing Scarlet Lady to the side has developed into a kind of controlling behavior, resulting in a minor issue of pride. Usually seen as the obvious leader among her peers, she rarely butts heads with anyone.

However, in Ladybug!Marinette’s reality, she butts heads with the other Marinettes over what course of actions should be taken.

Dragon!Marinette: An alternate Marinette who received the Dragon Miraculous. In a Paris that has long been protected by Ladybug and Chat Noir (in actuality, the married couple, Gabriel and Emilie Agreste), Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born with brown eyes. She adhered to her mother’s Chinese heritage, but was bullied for this. Due to this, she has developed an isolationist demeanor, veering away from social contact.

Later, in collège, Paris came under attack by the former Guardian of the Miraculous, Master Fu, who abused the powers of the Butterfly Miraculous in order to reclaim the Miraculous protected by the Agrestes. To fight him, both Ladybug and Chat Noir required aid, so they gifted Marinette, a notably resolute and resilient classmate of their son, the Dragon Miraculous, turning her into Chu Long.

Cat!Marinette: An alternate Marinette who received the Cat Ring instead of the Ladybug Earrings. Plagg’s influence developed her into a more mischievous and conniving character, often playing pranks, making jokes, and playing around. Though she retains her serious demeanor when it comes to situations demanding it, she is usually playful. (She’s basically a Meme!Marinette) However, she has an issue with self-sacrifice, believing that she must give up herself if it means she is helping others. While it is a tense issue in akuma fights, it is even worse in her personal life, with her classmates usually walking over her and bullies, such as Chloè and Lila taking advantage of her kindness.

Peacock!Marinette: An alternate Marinette that lost faith in herself. (Yeah, this is gonna take a dark turn.) Marinette has always proven to be a strong and confident character, incorruptible and resolute in her beliefs. However, she has had moments of doubt.

She holds Ladybug to an impossible standard. She must be the flawless symbol of heroism and nobility in order to be a superhero. However, is she truly worthy to be Ladybug is she’s been nearly akumatized twice? These seeds of doubt have haunted her for some time, and after the akumatization of her father because of her own emotional, irrational actions, she chooses to give up the Ladybug Earrings.

Her life took a downspiral from then on out. Her classmates abandoned her. Alya and Nino turned their backs on her. She was slowly breaking. Lila’s lies were destroying her life.

In the end, she managed to find comfort in Adrien, but when she managed to build up the courage to confess her feelings, he rebuffed them and told her about his devotion to Ladybug.

That was the last straw.

She once beheld Ladybug, but now she loathed her. While Paris praised their beloved hero, they forsook her.

Her festering negativity drew Hawkmoth’s attention, but instead of akumatizing her, he invited her to the Agreste Mansion under the guise of an internship. She was overjoyed at the prospect, but was quickly horrified to find the super villain in Gabriel Agreste’s place.

Hawkmoth manipulated her emotions, making her believe that the world had turned its back on her. He offered the damaged Peacock Miraculous to her, hoping she would claim it and work as his minion. Marinette, at the lowest point in her life, accepted.

Thus, Le Paon was born and began her reign of terror on Paris, hunting down her former friends and forcing Master Fu into hiding.

The Catalyst:

So, this is the event that actually causes the Marinettes to crossover into Ladybug!Marinette’s reality. It’s not so much of an event as it is an akuma, though.

Her name is Metadrama.

Prior to her akumatization, she lost her father to cancer. He often read her storybooks and she was fascinated with the fantastical tales. Heartbroken at this “bad ending”, she longed for a happy ending. Hawkmoth granted her the ability to search every reality for that happy ending.

In battle against Ladybug and Chat Noir, she proved a powerful opponent. Unlike most akumas, she manipulated the environment around her. Wielding paracausal and reality-warping abilities, she forced Paris to “glitch” and alternate between different versions of itself.

Her ultimate goal was to reach the Eiffel Tower and, from there, alter the entirety of Paris in search of the perfect universe where her father survived.

Ladybug and Chat Noir managed to restrain her with the former’s Lucky Charm, but realized to late that her akumatized object was not on her person, but was actually a storybook that she was using to conjure a portal.

Ladybug was able to destroy it, but was exposed to its paracausal and reality-warping energies, causing multiple Marinettes to converge on Ladybug!Marinette’s universe.

Extra Notes:

So, yeah, that’s Into the Mari-verse, or, at least the base concepts and ideas that I came up with. Thought I’d just throw this out there since I don’t know if I’m actually going to write the story. Pairings with the Marinettes are subjective until I finalize who I want with who. (Kinda gunning for a Chlonette/Kagaminette ending, though.)

Character development is based on how the Marinettes interact with each other, either clashing with or helping each other. For example, the Marinettes, looking for a way home, need Butterfly!Marinette to akumatize someone into Metadrama so they can create another portal. However, Butterfly!Marinette doesn’t know how to use her powers, or even how to be a superhero, so they spend their time teaching her. Another example is Ladybug!Marinette coming to terms with how she’s treated by her friends (i.e. Chat’s neglect of her personal space and feelings, her classmates invalidation of her feelings, and her own weariness of herself.) Over the course of the story, the other Marinettes support her and encourage her to believe in herself.

Characters outside of the Marinettes are still being worked on. I definitely want to include redemption arcs for certain characters, Chloè especially. I would like to put more spotlight on Kagami and Luka, both are characters with an incredible amount of potential. I’d like for Alya to have a moment when she comes down from her pedestal and actually apologize to Marinette for her behavior and confess her faults.

On the note of Gabriel Agreste/Hawmoth, I’m uncertain if I want to resolve the Agreste storyline. It’d be a good conclusion to have the Marinette expose his true identity, but it’d also deprive the show of its basis of Team Miraculous winning the day instead of a single character and her many selves. Also, it’d also leave out a future where Team Miraculous deals with Akumas rather than regular crime.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed what I’ve got jotted down. If you’ve got some constructive criticism, please leave some notes. Share this around if you’d like, I’d love the promotion. It’d help me build this idea more.

Thanks again to @zoe-oneesama for letting me use Marigold in this story concept and thanks to @miraculouscontent for her amazing critique and “fixes” of ML canon.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Man: Life Story #4 Thoughts Part 3: Pathetic Parker

Aaaaaaand finally....let us discuss you know Peter Parker.

Or the stand in for him in this mess of a mini-series.

Positives should be gotten out of the way first. I like the new Spider-Suit’s look. I’ve liked all the suits’ looks so far.

Okay cool we’re done now with positives.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooo...Peter is dating Jessica Drew huh.

Hahahahahahaha....fuck off.

Jessica Drew technically speaking existed in the 1960s but only because Bendis picked a random girl from a Ditko issue and decided he would make her his new original character (who was a rewritten Jessica Drew stand in...) Jessica Jones...which happened in the 2000s.

Remember how I said the Stark thing was remixing stuff from the 2000s and how this probably references the Ultimate Clone Saga?

Well between that stuff, the inclusion of Parker Industries, a obvious reference to Slott’s ‘No One Dies’ buzz word, and now Jessica Jones Zdarsky has entirely collapsed the ONE consistent thing about his writing in this series.

You can read my past posts on this series for more detail, but in a nutshell, this series is utterly convoluted in it’s premise and confused in what it wants to be.

However the ONE utterly consistent thing about it was the fact that it remixes elements from Spidey stories that happened in the decade each issue was covering.

Until now.

Now in fairness Parker Industries was a 2010s thing that debuted in the 1980s. I let that one slide a bit because I guess the idea was if Peter age 30 had money and time he could have a company by age 37 which would be in the 80s. Okay I guess.

But with all that other stuff...this issue isn’t remixing 90s stuff it’s remixing 90s and post-90s stuff so what the fuck is the conceit of the story again?

It’s anything Zdarsky wants whilst mostly remixing stuff from every decade per issue oh and Spider-Man ages in real time I guess and mentions various wars.

I (and others) have talked about how this series is fanficion. A time honoured tradition of fanfiction is the wacky indulgent ships that occur.

In professional works though these are best avoided, see MockingSpider.

That’s what Jessica Jones and Spider-Man being a couple is. Yeah she had a crush on him in high school.

Now tell me anything else that’d serve as a basis for their relationship instead of her being with Luke?

How the fuck did this even happen? At least with Peter and MJ you have canon as a roadmap. In this series...nothing. Peter and Jessica just hooked up somehow in the last 11 years!

What’s so insultingly asinine about this ship is that it emphasis another person who is conspicuous via her absence.

So...where the fuck is Felicia!

I know that the important life events of Spider-Man can be debated up to a point.

That point doesn’t cover though whether Black Cat is relevant of a mention or not across his ‘life story’.

No shit of course she is!

But she wasn’t mentioned in the 1970s when she debuted. She wasn’t mentioned in the 1980s when she became a regular. She wasn’t mentioned in the 1990s.

Surely in a world where Spider-Man’s marriage to MJ falls apart and he’s dating a private eye that should be fucking Black Cat not a character who wasn’t even invented until 10 years later! I mean c’mon Black Cat BECAME a private eye in the 1990s!

And wouldn’t that have been way more dramatic too?

In the 1980s instead of Peter being allegedly addicted to a costume or neglecting his family to clean up radiation or asking his wife to kill him if he turned into a brain munching alien the root of their break up involved his affection for Felicia?

I mean c’mon the symbiote was framed as a response to a mid-life crisis, a sexy platinum blonde who actually wants to hook up with Spidey not Peter isn’t prime real estate for a story about a superhero’s mid life crisis? Even the Incredibles did that!

And wouldn’t that have been more worthy of drama in this issue than literally 2 panels of Jessica Jones establishing they’re shagging but also he’s neglectful and she dumped him. I mean at that point you might as well have just had her be a private eye he hired and dropped the romance completely it served no purpose at all.

One aspect of the story that I will praise Zdarsky for even if I think he got it right by accident is that without his family Peter couldn’t keep on going as Spider-Man.

MJ, May, etc, they keep him together, he needs people, he’d fall apart without them.

Running out of gas as he did in this story could be seen as a reflection of that depending on future issues. Or it could just be he’s old and tired and don’t you know all superheroes would feel that way at age 48.

Too bad that seems rather at odds with issue #3 where he was a neglectful jerk.

Another problem inherited from issue #3 was the issue of Peter’s diminished prowess in his old age.

Remember how he wanted the symbiote to stay ‘relevant’ because he was slowing down.

Okay so it’s been 11 years later, he’s held onto Parker Industries and...he’s just accepted he’s gotten slower and weaker.

Remember how issue #3 implied he had a nano-weld suit.

Okay so he’s had 11 years to improve on that tech and...he hasn’t.

In fact his current outfit looks less high tech even.

Now brace yourselves because I’m about to do something nuts and call upon Dan Slott continuity as reference material.

In Slott’s run Peter with HORIZON labs and Parker Industries tech was able to whip up a variety of costumes for himself. These included nanotech.

In fact his MAIN suit in ASM volume 4 was nanotech armour that came complete with all sorts of gadgets.

Are you telling me that a Peter Parker with even greater years of scientific knowledge and experience, with even more time and resources, across 11+ years NEVER made technology like that?

He NEVER invented tech that could offset his diminished powers?

Seriously?

IRON MAN had strength enhancing armour in the 1960s and that technology got illegally distributed to countless people, hence we got Armor Wars. Even that aside there is countless inferior technology that could increase strength, speed, agility, etc, let alone protect from knock out gas.

But Peter in LF is such a jackass he...never employed this. He never considered this. He just let himself grow weaker and more vulnerable?

Either he’s stupid or he’s a sellout on Ben and May’s morals of responsibility because he had a death wish hence he never upgraded.

I mean Jesus Christ the Hobgoblin found a way to make the Goblin serum SAFE. Peter couldn’t investigate that avenue as a way to spike his power levels? Friggin Norman Osborn was in his 40s when he got the formula and it made him almost on par with Spider-Man.

It gets even stupider when you consider Peter hands over his mantle to Ben Reilly.

Ben is physically the same goddam age as Peter. In fact considering he clearly doesn’t crime fight as much as Peter does or else ‘Red Mask’ would be more famous, Peter if anything would be in better shape. So Peter is giving the mantle of Spidey to a less experienced, weaker 48 year old man who’s ALSO got diminished strength and speed.

But it gets worse.

He doesn’t just hand the mantle of Spidey to Ben. He hands Parker Industries over to him. You’d think this is a case of him passing it on to his relative Ben Reilly right?

Nope.

He wants Ben to...literally become him.

Peter wants Ben to literally pose as him forevermore and run his company.

This is the most gamebreakingly stupid thing in the entire issue.

Ben having Peter’s notes doesn’t mean he’ll be able to pose as Peter.

He doesn’t know the in jokes Peter has with people. He has 0 experience of running a big company.

He has less scientific knowledge and experience.

He will be way worse in business negotiations because he hasn’t got the measure of people.

And he’ll be seriously stressed out because unlike Peter who just knows this stuff Ben will have to study for a lifelong performance as Peter Parker every moment of every day.

Not to mention is no one going to notice the sudden disappearance of Ben Reilly?

Didn’t he have friends or colleagues of his own like Lori from the start of the issue?

Peter starts the comic determined to not allow Parker Industries to fall into the hands of the war profiteer Tony Stark but by unloading his entire company onto Ben Reilly he’s placed it in a hugely vulnerable position that makes it MORE likely that it will be absorbed into Stark International.

Oh and of course there the teeny tiny problem of PETER AND BEN NOT LOOKING ALIKE!

Now realistically Peter and Ben Reilly, having lived such different lives, would look similar yet different, like identical twins. Identical twins might look the same at age 1 but they really wouldn’t at age 30 if one of them was a desk jockey and the other was a soldier.

But you know artistic licence and suspension of disbelief can bypass that.

What cannot be bypassed is when Mark Bagley is drawing both characters on the same page in the same panel and you can tell that they clearly look different to one another. Their faces, hair colour and hair styles are not the same.

Did Peter’s notes include the correct shade to dye his hair too?

But the biggest aspect of this which is betrayal pornoigraphy for Peter’s character is between handing over the reigns of Spidey and P.I. to Ben...how...the...Hell...is...that...at.all...responsible?

He claims that he can’t give up his responsibility but he can ‘shift it to where it matters’.

What a crock of shit. That’s some lame ass lawyer talk for giving up and letting someone else do your job for you.

In the 90s Clone Saga Peter’s retirement was justified. He had impending parenthood as a responsibility and he and his wife had nearly broken in recent months. In Spider-Girl he got his leg blown off and had a 2 year old child to care for.

In this? His ex-wife and children are doing just fine without him as far as we know but the city still needs Spidey and P.I. still needs Peter Parker.

So no, retirement under these circumstances is irresponsible and utterly unjustified.

Not to mention wouldn’t BOTH Peter and Ben being heroes be more responsible? Or at least have Ben take over hero work and Peter runs P.I., possibly training Ben up.

There is also this bullshit that because Peter is so loud and public Ben could never live up to his potential.

I’m sorry but what is it with the Spider-Man fandom’s obsession with the idea that success = owning your own business.

As if that is the one and only way Peter or Ben could fulfil their scientific potential. Why not work for Reed?

Why not work with a Think Tank?

Why not start up a company in a different country and establish that Ben is indeed Peter’s relative. He already had his last name in issue #2!

Hell the argument that if they both started up companies and 2 Spider Heroes showed up it’d raise questions doesn’t consider the ideas that:

a)      Ben could WORK for Parker Industries, thereby allowing Peter to be in the lab as he wants or Ben handle the lab work

b)      They could SHARE the Spider-Man identity, which if anything would help maintain their secrecy

 Finally this issue (and the last one) on the recap page and at the end of the story pushes some toxic, dated, bullshit narratives regarding MJ:

a)      That it was grief alone that hooked up Peter and MJ

b)      MJ is Peter’s Plan B

c)       Peter cannot be married/have kids and be Spidey

d)      MJ wouldn’t stay with him if he’s Spider-Man, hence he only regains his family by retiring from Spidey

 I’ve seen an assessment of this story that argues that issue #3 as the halfway point was the low point from which the character will gradually fight back.

In a sense issue #4 goes along with this idea. Peter is at his lowest in issue #3 and his happier by the end of issue #4.

But the narrative structure of this series, wherein each issue is a snap shot of his life in each decade leads me to think that we’re unlikely to have 2 more issues of ending on gradually happier and happier notes.

Rather I think this issue is giving a pretence of happiness before it comes crashing down next issue and then in issue #6 we will get our happy ending or a bittersweet exit.

Regardless writing these long ass posts has actually soured me even more on the issue.

It’s another shit show I’m afraid.

P.S. The solicit read:

“THE REAL-TIME LIFE STORY OF SPIDER-MAN CONTINUES! Spider-Man’s life enters the 1990s! The COLD WAR is no longer cold as PETER PARKER returns to a world gone MAD! But will he let that madness infect HIM and his family?”

Where the fuck was any of that in this story?

Peter didn’t have a family, Peter didn’t return from anything, and the only madness to be found was in Ben and Otto.

[mvssmallow]

Memento Vivere

Part V

Masterlist

He drifts back into wakefulness.

He’s warm. Comfortable. Alone.

When he stretches his legs, the sheets graze his shins.

Oh.

Not 2000 count slate gray Egyptian cotton.

Just regular ugly buttercup yellow sheets.

I’m still here.

Fuck. I’m still here.

Am I stuck here?

His migraine might be gone but the panic hasn’t. It’s not as earth shattering as it was when he first woke up here this morning but he still feels ill with the knowledge that there are so many things he has to do;  his album is about to be released, there are promos that need to be finalised, live performances to rehearse for...

He needs to get back his real life.

Before he breaks out into another cold sweat, he’s distracted by a tiny over-enthusiastic voice that floats up the stairs.

“I wanna show daddy to make him better!”

“Min, NO!”

The bedroom door clicks opens and for a moment he doesn’t see anything because she’s so short but soon enough, there she is: standing next to the bed with a piece of paper in her hands and a hopeful grin on her face.

Whoever her real dad is in this world, he’s one lucky bastard.

He pretends to wake up slowly, cracking one eye open dramatically because he knows that kind of thing seems to make her laugh.

“Hey Minnie Mouse.”

“I’m not a mouse!” She exclaims, way too indignant for a 5 year old to be.

Hanbin suddenly comes into view and tries to stop her from climbing up onto the bed. “Min! No. I told you not to wake him up, he’s having a rest.”

“But daddy’s awake now!”

He sits up because at this rate, someone’s gonna wake Jae up for sure.

“It’s okay Bin, I’m fine. I feel better now so....”

Minji wriggles out of Hanbin’s hands and starts trying to climb up on the bed. Hanbin sighs, catches her half way and makes her sit on the edge so he can take off her house slippers.

“Sorry, I tried to keep her out.” Hanbin says to him tiredly. “But you know how she is when she’s made something. As stubborn as they come.”

“What’s stub-bin?” Minji asks, looking back and forth between them.

Hanbin breaks into one of those slow smiles that he always loved, the ones that start small then deepen with the dimples until eventually, it takes over his entire face.

“It means you know what you want and nobody can change your mind.” Hanbin answers as he gently tidies her hair and re-pins the strawberry clip.

“I’m stub-bin!” Minji announces proudly, missing tooth and all.

Okay, he has to laugh at that one because this kid is just the most ridiculous thing on the planet.

A phone rings somewhere in the house and Hanbin runs off to answer it before it wakes up the baby. Seeing her chance, Minji settles into his lap and holds the piece of paper in front of his face again.

“What’s this?” He asks, taking the colourful drawing in his hands. “Is this for me?”

Minji nods and starts pointing to various scrawls on the page, which all apparently represent people in her family. There’s Rocket, Rocket’s house (because that’s essential information), Jae in a spotty onesie, a stick figure wearing a bright yellow triangle for a dress...

“Is that you, Min?”

“Yes! Yellow is the best!”

Well, that probably explains the bed sheets. He wouldn’t be surprised if Hanbin let her choose them.

There are two other figures on the page and he waits for her explanation. It’s not high art but he gets this feeling that it’s one of those things he won’t want to forget.

“That’s dad!” She points to the stick figure drawn in red and green. It’s holding hands with one drawn in blue.

“And that’s you, daddy! Because you like blue so I drew you in blue.”

He’s awestruck and speechless for a moment.

I am her family. She drew me so I must be real in her World.

Of all the gifts he’s ever received, and some are downright extravagant, this one somehow means more to him that any of them because this tiny human sat down and drew a picture to make him feel better. A surge of joy fills his heart and he can’t help but smile proudly at her.

Fuck it, this is high art.

“This is the best drawing I have ever seen. We should frame it and put it on the wall.”

“Yeah!” She beams back at him, missing tooth in full view once again.

He’s in the middle of wondering if Hanbin has any frames around when the black thoughts hit him again. He won’t get to keep the drawing. The Jiwon that belongs in this World will want to come back and that means there won’t be any room for him. One day he’ll wake up and this will all be gone.

No drawing. No Rocket. No Minji. No Hanbin.

No Jae.

“Are you sad Daddy?”

He knows his face must look terrible because Minji frowns and crawls further into his lap and snuggles against his chest. It’s weird but at the same time, it’s not weird. There’s something in the back of his mind that understands this so he just hugs her tightly.

“No, I’m not sad. I wish I could draw as good as you though.”

“I can show you?”

“Yeah, you show me.”

One day.

They’re still sitting there when Hanbin comes back with the phone in his hand and doesn’t even look surprised when he sees him hugging Minji. Maybe it happens all the time. That sounds kinda nice. There’s nothing like that in his real life.

“Hey, you’re feeling better now right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I have bad news and some more bad news.” Hanbin says, rubbing his eyes. “The regular bad news is that one of us has to do the grocery shopping alone and the other bad news is that June’s going through some kind of crisis so he’s coming over. I don’t know what it is with you guys today, did you all decide to have your mental breakdown at the same time or something?”

June? June’s here too? It’s good to know they’re still friends in this timeline.

“I bet it’s that new singer he’s dating. It’s all drama. Thank God that’s not our life anymore.”

Something about that hits a nerve with him and stings.

Not our life anymore?

He doesn’t know what the Jiwon in this World does but he gets a sinking feeling he’s not a rapper. Rapping is his Identity. It’s who he is. It’s what he likes to do. It’s what he’s good at. He can’t imagine a life where he does anything else.

“Jiwon!?” Hanbin asks again, tone a touch more frustrated. It makes Minji giggle for some reason.

“Huh?”

“Groceries or June? Pick one.”

They’ll both end badly, he can already see it. He doesn’t know where anything is . He doesn’t even know where they live. And June, of course he remembers June but he has no idea how many years have passed and how many things have changed.

“Groceries.” He says finally.

The lesser of the two evils. Less chance of revealing how much of a fake he is. Maybe.

Hanbin raises an eyebrow like he was expecting another answer. “Well....okay. The list is pinned on the fridge. Don’t forget the chew bars for Rocket, he’s all mopey because we ran out.”

He nods, suddenly nervous as though he’s never done grocery shopping before.

Hanbin waves at Minji to come with him. “You want to help me draw a picture for Uncle June? He’s coming over later.”

“Uncle June! Will he bring stickers!?” She asks, climbing off him and running towards Hanbin.

“I don’t know. But he’ll want a picture won’t he?” Hanbin says. “Go get some new paper, I’ll be down in a minute.”

He places Minji’s drawing on the bedside table and stands up to look around the room again. Where does Hanbin keep all the clothes? Maybe he’ll just have to open every single drawer here.

“Hey?” Hanbin says from the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I have some good news as well.”

“Yeah?”

Hanbin chews his bottom lip for a brief second and he knows what that means. Or he hopes he knows what that still means.

“My parents are volunteering to babysit for a few hours so if you want to do anything tonight....”

Yeah. It still means the exact same thing.

[emospritelet]

Kiss of Life - chapter 4

In which Belle has a blind date...

AO3 link

#

Her Saturday shift at the hospital had made Belle tired and sore, and she slept later than usual on Sunday, forgoing her usual run in favour of a brisk walk to the diner for a coffee and bear claw.  Mary Margaret and Ruby were chatting at the bar, and Belle slid onto a seat beside them to place her order.

“You look tired,” said Mary Margaret sympathetically.  “Long night, huh?”

“It was hard work,” admitted Belle.  “I’m enjoying it, though. Feels like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“Any fights break out?” asked Ruby.  “They tend to spill over from the bar sometimes.”

“None that I saw,” said Belle, yawning.  “That Keith guy grabbed my arse, though.”

Mary Margaret and Ruby made the almost identical sounds of cats being stepped on.

“Remind me to kick him in the balls next time I see him,” said Ruby.

“Dr Gold threatened to report him to the Sheriff if he did it again,” said Belle.

“Oh, if Emma finds out he’s up to that kind of thing, she’d kick him in the balls,” said Mary Margaret.

“I don’t think you’ve met Emma,” added Ruby.  “Blonde. Wears a lot of plaid. Married to Regina Mills, the Mayor.”

“The Sheriff married the Mayor?” said Belle.  “That’s kind of sweet.”

“The deputy sheriff’s also a lesbian,” added Mary Margaret.  “Mulan. She’s dating Merida, the redhead who works at the Rabbit Hole.”

“This town is powered by gays,” mused Ruby.

Belle giggled, and Ruby slapped her hands on the bar.

“But never mind about everyone else’s love lives!” she said excitedly.  “It’s your big date tomorrow! You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” said Belle.

“Who are you going on a date with?” asked Mary Margaret curiously, and Ruby grinned.

“I told her I’d fix her up with a book lover, right?” she said, and leaned on the bar, eyebrows twitching as she grinned.  “Okay, so his name’s Isaac Heller, he’s a writer, he’s always reading something or tapping away on his laptop when he’s in here—”

“You set her up with Isaac?” said Mary Margaret, in a flat tone, and Ruby spread her hands.

“What?” she protested.  “He’s a writer, a book nerd!  He could be Belle’s soulmate!”

“I’m not sure I believe in soulmates,” said Belle.  “Besides, it’s only a date. A blind one, at that.”

“Well, I told him you’d meet him here,” said Ruby.  “Seven-thirty tomorrow, okay?”

#

Belle tried to recall the last time she had been on a date, remembered that it was almost a year ago, and sighed to herself.  After some deliberation, she had chosen an understated outfit: a flared black skirt with a fitted white shirt and little black cardigan.  The date was at Granny’s, so at least she would be on familiar territory, and Ruby would be there to step in if it turned into a disaster.  She’d had one or two dates like that in the past, after all.

#

Isaac Heller was a nervous-looking man with a long, thin face, dark hair and anxious eyes.  He ordered a bottle of red wine and two glasses, delivered to the table by Ruby, who beamed at him and winked at Belle as she left.  It took about ten minutes for Belle to decide that, whether or not soulmates existed, hers was not currently sitting across from her.  Isaac was polite enough, pulling out her chair when they sat down, but agonised over the menu choices for half an hour before finally ordering the chicken parm, and then spent ten minutes wondering aloud whether the steak would have been better.

She found that she didn’t have to say much; Isaac told her all about his time travelling in New York and Boston and down into Florida, researching for his new book.  He then told her about his agent, who had told him he was the next Hemingway, although whether that was something to be proud of was a matter of opinion, in her eyes.  He then moved onto his publisher, who was being, in his words, unreasonably picky about the progress of his novel. Belle had drunk three glasses of wine by the time their food arrived, and while eating gave her something else to do with her hands, it didn’t distract Isaac from telling her the plot of his novel about a disillusioned but brilliant writer having what sounded to her like a midlife crisis.

“So let me get this straight,” said Belle, when he finally drew breath long enough to put a piece of chicken in his mouth.  “The protagonist has a gorgeous girlfriend who - apparently - caters to his every need, and he’s still not happy?”

“He’s a tortured soul,” said Isaac earnestly, leaning forward.  “Always looking for something better. A perfectionist, you see.  He’s so used to excelling at what he does, he assumes that carries over into all areas of his life.  I can relate to that.”

Belle almost choked on her wine, and her eyes watered as she tried not to splutter in amusement.  She was feeling light-headed, and it was making her lose patience.

“Okay, so Mr Perfect wants the perfect woman by his side while he writes his wish-fulfilment self-insert porn or whatever it is he’s doing—”

“It’s a future New York Times bestseller...” he said indignantly

“Right,” sighed Belle, taking another drink.  “My point is - why was she attracted to him in the first place?”

Isaac blinked.  “What?”

“What does she see in him?” asked Belle.  “Why are they together?”

Isaac stared at her, fingers twitching on his napkin, his mouth open a little.

“Are you saying you don’t believe she could love him?”

“Well, I don’t really know anything about her,” Belle explained, and when he looked confused, added: “I mean, I know what she looks like, that she’s tall - but not as tall as him - and she has the body of a burlesque dancer and a beautiful face—”

“Yes!” said Isaac eagerly, nodding.  “You can see her in your mind, can’t you?”

“Well - kind of,” said Belle slowly.  “I mean she looks at herself naked and describes herself in detail so there’s that.  I can picture her from the description, but I still don’t know anything about her.  Other than that she’s very supportive of him and drinks latte and is oddly aware of her own breasts.”

He looked puzzled, and she sighed.

“What does she do?” she asked.  “What are her interests?  Who are her friends? Does she exist as a character outside her relationship with the protagonist?  Is she a whole person or is she just there to get him laid and provide some manpain when she dies?”

His mouth fell open.

“How did you know she dies?”

She closed her eyes, reaching for her wine again.  Something told her there wouldn’t be a second date.

#

Belle sighed, pressing her palm to the small of her back and stretching.  They had been short-handed the past few days, and she had worked more hours than she had planned.  Her entire body ached from rushing around and carrying supplies in her first week of work, but it was a good sort of ache, the kind that came from hard work that meant something.

She still had three hours left of her shift, but Dorothy had taken one look at her and told her to go get some coffee.  She hadn’t objected, and she rolled stiff shoulders as she made her way to the cafeteria, smiling her thanks and handing over some cash in return for a mug of coffee and a maple pecan Danish.  She turned away, glancing around in vain for a vacant table.  The place was full of hospital staff chatting over coffees and tucking into cake and sandwiches, and there was only one table with a single occupant.  Belle sucked in a breath as she saw that it was Dr Gold.

He was sitting with one elbow on the table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him and his finger and thumb rubbing at the bridge of his nose, as though his eyes were tired.  She suspected they were; he had been on shift when she had arrived, and would no doubt be there long after she had gone home to crawl into bed and think about how it might feel to kiss him.  Which seemed to be the uppermost thought in her mind every night since she had started working at the hospital.

She made a decision, stepping forward quickly to stand beside his table.

“Dr Gold,” she said, and he looked up, dark eyes heavy.

“Miss French,” he said.  “How are you settling in?”

“Um - okay, I guess,” she said.  “Do you mind if I sit down?  There’s a shortage of free tables.”

“Oh, of course.”  He gestured to the seat opposite.  “Be my guest.  I’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”

She slid into the seat, setting down her coffee and Danish.

“We could split it, if you like,” she said, and he glanced at the pastry with a spark of interest in his eyes, but shook his head.

“Coffee’s all I need.”

She privately thought he could do with eating a few decent meals and working fewer hours, but she said nothing.  She tore off a piece of the pastry, putting it in her mouth and licking sticky glaze from her fingers.  He was eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped at it, and she sucked a few crumbs from her thumb.

“Apologies for my messy eating,” she said.

“That’s quite alright.”  He set down his cup.  “I’ve seen you running around the place, I suspect you could use the energy.”

“Yeah.”

She tore off another piece and popped it in her mouth, making a noise of enjoyment at the rich taste of the buttery pastry and the maple-coated pecans.  Dr Gold took another sip of his coffee.

“How are you enjoying working here?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s been - well, it’s been hard work, and I feel like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it’s been fun,” she said, and he gave her a tiny smile.

“Well, the feeling of not knowing what the hell you’re doing never fully goes away, if it’s any comfort,” he said.

“But you’re a doctor,” she said.  “The doctor, from what I hear.  The most experienced in this place.”

“And none of us are infallible,” he said.  “More’s the pity.”

He drained his cup, setting it down with a clunk, and pushed to his feet with the aid of his cane.

“I’ll leave you to your snack,” he said.  “Good evening, Miss French.  And welcome aboard.”

He shook back his hair, nodded to her once, and strode off with his swift, limping stride.  Belle watched him go, sighing to herself.  Her crush on the man was intense, all-consuming, and apparently wholly unrequited.

[glueghost]

back in august/september 2020, i started making youtube videos (as glueghost) again - i left glueghost a year prior because i was a stinky piss baby who took my lil funny videos too seriously

since starting my channel, i've redesigned my lil mascot like half a dozen times... well, i would get other people to do it lol

i won't show any of the old designs here out of respect (and one out of disrespect) for the artists - sorry for being an idiot back then

but one day while doodling ideas in MSPaint, i drew these:

all of these little doodles would eventually be my twitter and youtube banner (with some minor tweaks and adjustments)

now you're probably not thinking: "hey, these lil guys aren't ghosts at all!"

:)

anyways i wanted to reveal this new design in a funny way, so i actually learned how to animate in Krita to make the lil animation for this video:

here's the animation in gif form for fun

i mean looking back it's kinda not good - but i'm happy with it nonetheless

a year or so later i decided to update the design a little bit:

at the time my hair was getting longer, and i kinda went through a "summertime never ends" phase - warmer, more vibrant colors - and i made the hawaiian shirt design all by myself 'cause i'm a big boy

but then i shaved my head, it got cold outside, and i had another identity crisis, so i made this:

but i was getting tired of MSPaint and wanted to try out Krita again, so i made this:

this is the shortest living mascot design on my channel - only used in two videos lmao

i went back to the summertime design shortly thereafter

and of course i can't forget about this lil goober

i don't really have much else to say - it was fun to kinda look back on these past two years here. happy holidays to you and yours

before i go to sleep lol, here's a never-before-seen doodle of what was going to be my channel icon: