#even after Banjo told him to control his heart

[seagreenstardust]

Even just the fact that Katsuki point blank asks Izuku later “SOMETHING must have triggered black whip, what was it”???

Guys. Friends. Pals. You don’t choose to make the character who triggered the quirk ask the question (and not get an answer!!!) without a reason, this is textbook stuff, writing fictional characters 101. There is actual irony in Katsuki asking, in him not getting an answer, and most authors would introduce said irony only as foreshadowing, not as a random throwaway moment

[folkimplosionmusic]

Tim Buckley

Martin Aston, MOJO, July 1995

IN 1965, THE LOS ANGELES MAGAZINE CHEETAH dubbed three emerging singer-songwriters – Jackson Browne, Steve Noonan, and Tim Buckley – 'The Orange County Three'.

Browne progressed towards a comfortably feted stardom which endures to this day Noonan vanished into the ether after one album. And somewhere between their two paths drifted the late Tim Buckley. Between rabid adulation and ignoble obscurity, between legendary status and the losers' list, his is a fixed position, like a star that shines fiercely in the night sky but in space was extinguished eons ago.

Twenty years after his death on June 29, 1975, diehard disciples complain of the mismanagement of Tim Buckley's legacy. Here was a man whose recordings remain extraordinary cross-pollinations of folk-rock, folk-jazz, the avant-garde and all points in between. They are, in the words of Lillian Roxon's famed 1969 Rock Encyclopaedia, "easily the most beautiful in the new music, beautifully produced and arranged, always managing to be wildly passionate and pure at the same time". A shame, then, that they are still to be posthumously rewarded with a decent CD reissue campaign.

"When an artist finally comes through all this mess, you hear a pure voice," said Tim Buckley three months before he died. "We're in the habit of emulating those voices when they're dead."

TIMOTHY CHARLES BUCKLEY III WAS BORN IN AMSTERDAM, New York on Valentine's Day, 1947, his family uprooting westwards a decade later to Anaheim, home of Disneyland and strip malls. He grew up with music. Grandma dug Billie Holiday and Bessie Smith, mom adored Sinatra and Garland. Timothy Charles III himself leaned towards the gnarled county of Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, the lonesome sound of the singing cowboys. The kid even taught himself to play the banjo.

Larry Beckett, the Buena Vista high school friend who added erudite lyrics to Buckley melodies over the years, recalls how schoolboy Tim always wanted to sing. Buckley had learnt how to use his perfect pitch from crooners like Nat 'King' Cole and Johnny Mathis but chose to exercise his range by screaming at buses and imitating the sound of trumpets. His voice set sail for the edge early

Jim Fielder, Tim's other best buddy at school, recalls first hearing the Buckley voice. "One hesitates to get flowery but the words 'gift from God' sprung to mind," he says. "He had an incredible range of four octaves, always in tune, with a great vibrato he had complete control over. You don't normally hear that stuff from a 17-year-old."

Recruited by C&W combo Princess Ramona & The Cherokee Riders, Buckley played guitar in a yellow hummingbird shirt and turquoise hat. The Princess soon saw that Timmy's heart wasn't in country – his nascent love of Miles Davis and John Coltrane testified to that – so suggested he turn instead to the burgeoning folk scene. Despite an intuitive gift for its melodic nuances, 'folk-rock' was a tag that would later irk him. Buckley was always cynical about how the business worked. "You hear what they want you to play when you're breaking into the business," he told Sounds in 1972, "and you show 'em what you've got."

With Fielder on bass and lyricist Beckett on drums they formed two bands, the Top 40-oriented Bohemians and the more esoteric, acoustic Harlequin 3, who would mix in poetry and freely ad-lib from Ken Nordine's Word Jazz monologues.

Buckley quickly won great notices in LA, and the 'Orange County Three' accolade only heightened the interest of the music business. Mothers Of Invention drummer Jimmy Carl Black was impressed enough to suggest a meeting with Herb Cohen, a manager with a curiously dual reputation for unswerving breadheadedness and courageous work with mavericks from Lenny Bruce and the Mothers to Captain Beefheart and Wild Man Fischer. Instantly smitten – "there was no question that Tim had something unique" – Cohen sent a demo to Jac Holzman at Elektra, home of folk-rocking excellence.

"I must have listened to it twice a day for a week," said Holzman. "Whenever anything was getting me down, I'd run for Buckley. He was exactly the kind of artist with whom we wanted to grow – young and in the process of developing, extraordinarily gifted and so untyped that there existed no formula or pattern to which anyone would be committed."

Buckley in turn told Zigzag that he respected Holzman because he believed Jac only signed multi-talented acts who made each album an individual statement. Yet Buckley's self-titled debut album in 1966 was also his most generic. "I was only 19," Buckley later recalled in Changes magazine, "and going into the studio was like Disneyland. I'd do anything anybody said." The beat-guitar chime of Lee Underwood and the songs' baroque dressings were blood-related to The Byrds, par for the folk-rock course. "Naive, stiff, quaky and innocent, but a ticket into the marketplace," was Underwood's verdict. But you can discern what Cohen and Holzman had so clearly appraised: above all, that soaring counter-tenor voice and remarkable melodic gift.

The follow-up, Goodbye & Hello (1967), was tainted less by convention than by overambition. Producer Jerry Yester probably saw the chance to drape Buckley's ravishing voice in all the soft-rock flourishes at his disposal, while Beckett's convoluted wordplay was just the wrong side of pretentious. Buckley had radically outgrown the first album's high-school origins, his voice now adopting the languid resonances of his Greenwich Village folk idol Fred Neil on the aching ballads 'Once I Was' and 'Morning Glory'.

"Me and Tim hung around in Greenwich Village during the 1960s," recalls the reclusive songsmith of 'Everybody's Talkin'' and 'Dolphins'. "Tim was completely immersed in the music 24 hours a day He ate, drank and breathed music. I would not be at all surprised to learn that Tim worked on chord progressions and melody lines in his dreams, he was that committed to the art form."

In the Neil vein, Buckley's bristling 'I Never Asked To Be Your Mountain' is a six-minute epistle to his already estranged wife Mary Guibert and son Jeffrey Scott (better known now as Jeff Buckley).

"The marriage was a disaster," says Jim Fielder. "Mary was full of life and talent, a classical pianist and Tim's equal. But the pregnancy made it go sour, as neither of them was ready for it. To Tim it was draining his creative force, and Mary wasn't willing to take the chance on his career, putting it to him like, Settle down and raise a baby or we're through. That kind of showdown."

In the climax to 'I Never Asked To Be Your Mountain', Buckley yelped, pleaded, even shrieked "Baby, pleeeaEEESSE!"), the first evidence of the places his pain would take him. Honesty was the key. When Buckley and Beckett played it autobiographical – exquisitely vulnerable, naive yet insightful – the results were stunning. When they played to the gallery it sounded forced. Of the title track's anti-Vietnam tract, Buckley said, "I just hate the motherfucker. It's like, 'OK motherfuckers, you want a protest song, here it is'. They were bugging the hell out of me so I figured, just this once, and then I wouldn't have to do it again.

"Talking about war is futile," he reckoned. "What can you say about it? You want it to end but you know it won't. Fear is a limited subject but love isn't. I ain't talking about sunsets 'n' trees, I'm involved with America...but the people in America, not the politics. All I can see is the injustice."

Elektra's Jac Holzman, however, felt positive: a poster of Buckley loomed large over Sunset Strip. "As we got deeper into 1967 and Vietnam," Holzman observed, "the combined effect of his words, his music, his passion, his persona struck a particular resonance. To some extent he was the bright side of people's tortured souls, and maybe of his own tortured soul. He could express anguish that wasn't negative."

Goodbye & Hello reached 171 on the Billboard chart, but Buckley wasn't in the mood to consolidate. Instead, when Tonight Show guest host Alan King made fun of his hair, the singer retorted, "You know, it's really surprising, I always thought you were a piece of cardboard." On another outing he refused to lip-synch to 'Pleasant Street' and walked out.

WITH HINDSIGHT, UNDERWOOD TRACES Buckley's depressive tendencies to his father who "suffered a head injury in the Second World War and from then on his insecurities and rage made life miserable for Tim. He saw Tim's beauty, and called him a faggot and beat him up. He looked at Tim's talent and said he'd never make it. His mother didn't help: she'd tell him he'd die young because that's what poets always did. So he grew up deeply hurt and feeling inadequate, yet driven by this extraordinary musical talent that possessed him." The result, Underwood ventures, "gave Tim a deep-seated fear of success...he wanted people to love him but, as they did, he pushed them away".

"Long after his death," says Beckett, "I realised that there were very few songs he wrote that didn't have the word 'home' in them. It seemed like he felt homeless, and nothing would restore it. He seemed OK in high school, maybe a little wild, but he got increasingly neurotic. He'd almost welcome a negative comment that would reaffirm his feelings."

When, in 1970, Jerry Yester's wife Judy Henske poked fun at the line "I'm as puzzled as the oyster" in the majestic 'Song To The Siren', Buckley instantly dropped the song from the set. "He took the smallest criticism to heart," says Larry Beckett, "so that he couldn't even perform a song which he admitted was one of his all-time favourites!"

Another incident stands out from this period. Tim's choirboy looks and froth of curls had attracted a Love Generation-style teenybop following. At a show at New York's Philharmonic Hall, his most prestigious to date, various objects were thrown on stage, a red carnation among them. Buckley stooped down, picked it up and proceeded to chew the petals and spit them out.

"He was very vulnerable and emotional," says Beckett's ex-wife Manda. "It made him terribly attractive to everybody of both sexes. People just sort of swooned around him because he was so sweet. I think that frightened him. He was difficult to deal with because he was scared of his power over people. He almost seemed to reject his audiences for loving him so much. He wasn't mature enough to accept that kind of attention."

Tim would also embroider the truth. At school he'd lied about playing C&W bars, while Larry Beckett remembers dubious boasts of female conquests. Buckley also claimed to have played guitar on The Byrds' first album, which Roger McGuinn always denied. "Tim liked to feed the legend," Beckett recalls with a wry chuckle. "He was quite amoral – if a lie gave a laugh or strengthened his mystique, that was fine. But his music was always honest."

"If someone dared him to do something, he'd do it," recalls British bassist Danny Thompson, who accompanied Buckley on his 1968 UK visit. "This free spirit was what most people saw, but I also saw a bit of a loner. Unlike most people who get into drugs, he wasn't a sad junkie figure. He was more of a naughty boy who said, 'OK, I'll have a go, I'll drink that'."

If he admired Hendrix and Hardin and Havens, Buckley frequently railed against the rock establishment. "All people see is velvet pants and long, blond hair," he fumed. 'A perfect person with spangles and flowered shirts – that's vibrations to them."

"He viewed the blues-oriented rock of the day as white thievery and an emotional sham," says Underwood. "He criticised musicians who spent three weeks learning Clapton licks, when Mingus had spent his whole life living his music.

Retreating to his home base in Venice, LA, Buckley and Underwood took time out to immerse themselves in the music of the East Coast jazz titans. Miles, Coltrane, Monk, Mingus and Ornette Coleman all provided inspiration as rehearsals slowly metamorphosed into jam sessions. The day before playing New York's prestigious Fillmore East theatre, Buckley asked vibraphonist David Friedman to rehearse for the show. Seven hours without sheet music later, a new sound was born.

With Happy/Sad (1969), Buckley began to arc away from the underground culture that had launched him. New York photographer Joe Stevens, a good friend of Buckley's at the time, recalls the singer's suspicious attitude towards the forthcoming Woodstock festival. "He said, Are you really going? Oh man, it's going to be awful.' Yet we used to hang out on a friend's farm which was like a scaled-down Woodstock, with hippy girls walking around, weird food, drugs, freedom and trees."

Although Jerry Yester was again involved, Happy/Sad was the polar opposite to Goodbye & Hello's crowded ambition: spacious, supple, a sea of possibilities. The line-up was just vibraphone, string bass, acoustic 12-string and gently rippling electric guitar. "The Modern Jazz Quartet Of Folk," enthused vibraphonist David Friedman. "Heart music," Buckley offered, and Elektra used his words in the ads like a manifesto. Happy/Sad's only real comparison is Astral Weeks, a similarly symmetrical, fluid work that revels in its lack of boundaries while possessing a unique tension.

"The trick of writing," Buckley felt, "is to make it sound like it's all happening for the first time. So you feel it's everybody's idea."

Van Morrison, Laura Nyro and John Martyn were also melting the walls between rock, blues, folk and jazz; at 22, Buckley was the youngest of the bunch. He'd also caught the jazz bug the hardest. Yester revealed that the band resisted second takes, while 'Strange Feeling' was bravely anchored to the bass line of Miles Davis's 'All Blues' before Buckley's voice set sail, caressing and cajoling.

"Being with Tim was like going out with an English professor," recalls Bob Duffy, Buckley's tour manager at the time. "He was very serious and almost stodgy, exactly the opposite of what you'd think a rock star would be. He wasn't in the music business to get laid. If one of the guys in the band came up and mentioned women, 13 of them would run out of the room, except for Tim who just sat there, guitar in hand, almost like he was teaching himself the songs again even though he'd played these songs 200 times, because he wanted the show to be as musically performed as possible. I saw incredible shows that he got depressed about, and wouldn't talk to anyone afterwards – he was very Zappa-like in that demanding way, but he was one of the sanest people on that level that I worked with."

As its very title acknowledged, despite Happy/Sad's sun-splashed backdrop, musical invention and lyrical joie de vivre, its mood was acutely introspective. Critic Simon Reynolds has described it as "a poignant premonition of loss, of an inevitable autumn..."

Lyrics had clearly shifted to a secondary, supportive role. Larry Beckett says he was politely informed that the singer would pen the lyrics alone. "He was moving toward a jazz sound, so to have wild poetry all over the map, you'd miss the jazz. But it was my feeling too that Tim felt his success was due to my lyrics rather than his music, so he wanted to see how well he'd do alone. He tended to believe the worst about himself..."

"It was very hard for me to write songs after Goodbye & Hello, because most of the bases were touched," Buckley admitted. "That was the end of my apprenticeship for writing songs. Whatever I wrote after that wasn't adolescent, which means it isn't easy because you can't repeat yourself. The way Jac [Holzman] had set it up you were supposed to move artistically, but the way the business is you're not. You're supposed to repeat what you do, so there's a dichotomy there. People like a certain type of thing at a certain time, and it's very hard to progress.

In another interview Tim said, "I can see where I'm heading, and it will probably be further and further from what people expected of me."

"He was very friendly and open to ideas, not a prima donna or a hypocrite," recalls John Balkin, who played bass with Buckley in 1969-70. "There was no drugs, sex and rock'n'roll in relation to him as an artist, not like Joplin and Hendrix, getting stoned before or during a gig. He felt stifled and frustrated by the boundaries that be, trying to stretch as an artist but making a living too. I remember Herbie Cohen saying, 'Go drive a truck then'..."

PROGRESSION WAS NOW BUCKLEY'S WATCH-word. Dream Letter, recorded in 1968 at London's Queen Elizabeth Hall, was already more diffuse than Happy/ Sad, lacking the pulse of Carter CC Collins's congas. The budget couldn't afford him or bassist John Miller, so Pentangle's Danny Thompson was drafted in to play an intuitively supportive – and barely rehearsed – role.

"I got a call asking me to turn up and rehearse everything at once," recalls Thompson. "He refused to get into a routine of singing 'the song'. We did a TV show, and when it came to doing it live Tim said, 'Let's do another song', which we'd never rehearsed. It was two minutes longer than our time slot, and the producer was putting his finger across his throat, and Tim looked at him with a puzzled expression and carried on, like art and music was far more important than any of this rubbish that surrounds it. He was fearless."

Clive Selwood, who ran the UK branch of Elektra records, recalls the same episode: "Tim had got a slot on the Julie Felix Show on BBC. He turned up to rehearsals with Danny Thompson an hour late; he shuffled in, nodded when introduced to the producer, unsheathed his guitar, and they launched into an extemporisation of one of his songs that lasted over an hour. The producer and Felix watched open-mouthed, not daring to interrupt. The most exhaustingly magical performance I have ever witnessed – and all to an audience of three. When it was done, Tim slapped his guitar in the case, said 'OK?' to the producer, and departed."

A year later after a heady bout of touring, including the Fillmore East's opening night alongside BB King, Buckley's muse was flying high. In 1968 he'd sounded enraptured, a wayward choirboy testing the limits of a new-found sound, but the voice of 1969 scatted and scorched, twisting and ascending like a wreath of smoke. The music mixed blues, jazz and ballads, throwing in calypso, even cooking on the verge of funk. A key Buckley moment arrived at the climax of a simmering 14-minute 'Gypsy Woman' (from Happy/Sad), when he yelled, "Oh, cast a spell on Timmy!", like an exorcism in reverse. Few singers craved possession so hungrily.

A little-known artefact from this period is his soundtrack music for the film Changes, directed by Hall Bartlett who later went on to helm Jonathan Livingston Seagull. A live set from the Troubadour, finally released two years ago, previewed material that surfaced on Lorca (1970). The album was named after the murdered Spanish poet, whose simultaneously violent and tender poetics Buckley was vocally mirroring. On the song 'Lorca' itself, and on 'Anonymous Proposition' and 'Driftin',' Buckley floats and stings over a languid blue-note haze – crooning and stretching half-tones over shapeless stanzas.

"We never had any music to read from," bassist John Balkin remembers. "We just noodled through and went for it, just finding the right note or coming off a note and making it right." Buckley regarded the title track as "my identity as a unique singer; as an original voice."

The timing wasn't great. Now tuning into such mellow songsmiths as James Taylor, the Love Generation was in no mood to follow in Buckley's wayward footsteps, any more than Buckley had kowtowed to Elektra's craving for old-style troubadour charm. As Holzman says, "he was making music for himself at that point...which is fine, except for the problem of finding enough people to listen to it."

"An artist has a responsibility to know what's gone down and what's going on in his field, not to copy but to be aware," the creator responded. "Only that way can he strengthen his own perception and ability"

Around this time Holzman was poised to sell Elektra, which upset Buckley Although major label offers were on the table – "a lot of bread, which makes me feel really good" – he decided that money wasn't the issue: "That's not where I'm at. I can live on a low budget." After some deliberation he signed to Straight, a Warners-distributed label formed by Herb Cohen and Frank Zappa. "It would be better for me to stay with one man who had taken care of me," he said. "No matter what anyone thinks of Herbie, he's a great dude." But he capitulated to Cohen's demand to record a more accessible record: aptly named, Blue Afternoon (1969) is a collection of narcotic folk-torch ballads.

"Tim always wrote about love and suffering in all their manifestations," says Lee Underwood. "He felt that underneath love was fear, fear of love and success and attention and responsibility" In the album's centrepiece, 'Blue Melody', Buckley keens: "There ain't no wealth that can buy my pride/There ain't no pain that can cleanse my soul/No, just a blue melody/Sailing far away from me." In 'So Lonely', he confessed that "Nobody comes around here no more". In press material for the album, Buckley said the songs had been written for Marlene Dietrich.

Blue Afternoon beat Lorca to the shops by a month. With two albums vying for attention, his already diminished sales potential was halved. (Lorca didn't even chart). Buckley never commercially-minded, was still looking forward. "When I did Blue Afternoon, I had just about finished writing set songs," he told Zigzag. "I had to stretch out a little bit...the next [album] is mostly dealing in time signatures."

Has any troubadour ever stretched out quite as Buckley did on 1970's Starsailor? Buckley's third album in a year in the words of bassist John Balkin, was "a whole different genre". Balkin, who ran a free improvisation group with Buzz and Bunk Gardner of the Mothers, had introduced Buckley to opera singer Cathy Berberian's interpretations of songs by Luciano Berio, inspiring the ever-restless Buckley to new heights. Over throbbing rhythms and atonal dynamics, the Gardners' blowing was matched by Buckley's gymnastic yodels and screams: one moment he sounded like an autistic child, the next like Tarzan. Everything peaked on the title song, with its 16 tracks of vocal overdubs. Larry Beckett, recalled to add impressionistic poetry to expressionistic music, also had a field day: to wit, the likes of "Behold the healing festival/complete for an instant/the dance figure pure constellation." Indeed.

"For the 'Starsailor' track itself," recalls Balkin, "we wanted things like Timmy's voice moving and circling the room, coming over the top like a horn section, like another instrument, not like five separate voices. His range was incredible. He could get down with the bass part and be up again in a split second."

Fiercely beautiful, Starsailor is a unique masterpiece. Aside from 'Song To The Siren', the album was the epitome of uneasy listening. "Sometimes you're writing and you know that you're not going to fit," Buckley responded. "But you do it because it's your heart and soul and you gotta say it. When you play a chord, you're dating yourself...the fewer chords you play, the less likely you are to get conditioned, and the more you can reveal of what you are."

If Starsailor came close to Coltrane's 'sheets of sound', it was hard not to see it as commercial suicide. Attempts to reproduce Starsailor live didn't help. "The shows Tim booked himself after Starsailor were total free improvisation, vocal gymnastics time," recalls Balkin. "I can still see him onstage, his head down, snoring. There was one episode of barking at the audience too. After one show, Frank Zappa said we sounded good, and he wasn't one who easily handed out compliments."

"BUCKLEY YODELLING BAFFLES AUDIENCE," ran a Rolling Stone headline. As Herb Cohen says today, "he was changing too drastically, playing material that audiences weren't necessarily coming to hear and that was beyond the realm of their capability"..."An instrumentalist can be understood doing just about anything, but people are really geared to something coming out of the mouth being words," a resentful Buckley said in a subsequent press release. "I use my voice as an instrument when I'm performing live. The most shocking thing I've ever seen people come up against, beside a performer taking off his clothes, is dealing with someone who doesn't sing words. If I had my way, words wouldn't mean a thing."

Buckley was driven into deep depression by Starsailor's failure. Straight wouldn't provide tour support, the old band had fragmented because there was so little work for them, and Buckley was reduced to booking his own shows in small clubs. At last he shared the bitter, neglected status of his jazz idols. Underwood confirms that in order to take the sting away, Buckley dabbled in barbiturates and heroin. When Buckley prefaced 'I Don't Need It To Rain' on the Troubadour album by saying, "This one's called Give Smack A Chance", it was a dangerous joke. "He was mocking the peace movement, the whole Beatles mentality of the day" says Underwood.

At least his personal life had improved. He'd re-married, bought a house in upmarket Laguna Beach (subsequently painted black to outrage the neighbours), and effectively gone to ground. "I'd been going strong since 1966 and really needed a rest," was Buckley's explanation. "I hadn't caught up with any living." He also inherited his wife Judy's seven-year-old son Taylor.

Judy doesn't recall any drug abuse. Nor does she remember Tim driving a cab, chaffeuring Sly Stone or studying ethnomusicology at UCLA, as the singer often claimed at the time. Instead, she recalls Tim reading voraciously catching up with his favourite Latin American writers at the UCLA library and channelling his creative urges into acting.

The unreleased 1971 cult film Why? Starring OJ Simpson was shot during this period. "It was their first film but both Tim and OJ were incredible actors. The camera loved them," remembers co-star Linda Gillen. "Tim had this James Dean quality He's so handsome in the movie and yet such a mess! You know those Brat Pack kind of films, where people play prefabricated rebels who see themselves as kinda bad but they have a PR taking care of business? Well, Tim was the real deal. He didn't give a fuck how he looked or dressed. He had no hidden agenda. He had an incredible naivety.

"We used to improvise in the film. Tim's character talks to the effect that you can't commit suicide. You can't amend your feelings for other people; you have to find that thing that's good in you and keep that alive. A lot of the group had been onto my character about taking heroin but Tim would always be the sympathetic one. But that was Tim. He'd understand where they were coming from, why they would do what they did.

"On set, I used to hum to myself to fight off boredom and Tim would pick up on what I was humming, like 'Miss Otis Regrets', and we'd end up harmonising together" she continues. "I loved Fred Neil, and asked if he knew 'Dolphins', which he sung for me. He'd say 'They got to Fred Neil, don't let it happen to you'. He'd talk in this strange, paranoid, ominous way, about 'the man'. That night, we went to buy Fred's album and bypassed Tim's on the way! He never hustled his records to me; he wasn't a self-promoter.

"I wondered why Tim was working on this schleppy movie, because I knew people like Roger McGuinn who were making millions, and he said, very silently 'I need the money'. We were only earning $420 a week on the film, and I said, is that all the money you have right now? and he said, 'No, I'm getting a song covered,' which I think was 'Gypsy Woman' which Neil Diamond was going to do."

Meanwhile, the comic plot of his unfilmed screenplay Fully Air-Conditioned Inside was based on a struggling musician who blows up an audience calling for old songs and makes his escape tucked beneath the wings of a vulture, singing 'My Way'...

WHEN AN ALBUM FINALLY EMERGED IN 1972, Buckley had once again avoided covering familiar ground. Greetings From LA was a seriously funky amalgam of rock and soul. His youthful verve might have gone, but his wondrous holler whipped things along. "After Starsailor, I decided to re-evaluate, and I decided the way to come back was to be funkier than everybody," he boasted. But would radio stations play a record as shocking lyrically as Starsailor had been musically?

Judy was the new muse ('An exceptionally beautiful woman, provocative and witty too," says Underwood) and the album was drenched in lust. In a year when David Bowie made sex a refrigeratedly alien concept, Buckley wrote a set of linked songs in a sultry New Orleans populated by a constellation of pimps, whores and hustlers. "I went down to the meat rack tavern," was the album's opening line; and it closed on, "I'm looking for a street corner girl/And she's gonna beat me, whip me, spank me, make it all right again..."

Buckley explained his reasoning to Chrissie Hynde when she interviewed him for the NME in 1974. "I realised all the sex idols in rock weren't saying anything sexy – not Jagger or [Jim] Morrison. Nor had I learned anything sexually from a rock song. So I decided to make it human and not so mysterious."

Producer Hal Willner who subsequently organised the Tribute To Tim Buckley show at St Anne's Church, Brooklyn, remembers the singer at this time. "I saw Buckley live four times, including two of the best performances I've ever seen. He was everything someone could look for in music, totally transcendent. The first time took 100 per cent of my attention, like taking some sort of pill. You'd expect it from guys like Pharoah Sanders and Sun Ra, but that's a very rare feeling to get in rock. Another time he opened for Zappa in his Grand Wazoo period, and the audience was incredibly rude to him, booing and heckling. But he handled it beautifully just carrying on, talking sarcastically, trying to get them to blow pot smoke on the stage. He was a genius in every sense. He should be seen on the same level as Edith Piaf and Miles Davis."

"Rock'n'roll was meant to be body music," Buckley stated in Downbeat magazine. But diehard fans wanted to know why he was now singing rock'n'roll. "His last albums were dictated somewhat by business considerations," says Lee Underwood, "but few understood they were also dictated by major music considerations. Where else could he go after Starsailor's intellectual heights except to its opposite, to white funk dance music, rooted in sexuality? At least Tim's R&B was honest, unlike the over-rehearsed stuff that pretends to be spontaneous. Greetings is still one of the best rock'n'roll albums ever to come down the pike. Throughout his career, he constantly asked and answered a question that can be terrifying, which is, Where do we go from here? People criticised him during Lorca and Starsailor and wanted him to play rock'n'roll, but when he did they said he sold out."

True compromise was far more detectable on 1974's album Sefronia, released by Cohen and Zappa's new DiscReet label under the Warner Brothers umbrella. "Everyone was second guessing where he should go next," says his old friend Donna Young, "and Tim started listening to what other people thought."

Some new-found literary acumen was displayed on the title track, a ballad as lush as the album's reading of Fred Neil's 'Dolphins'. But five of the songs were covers, including the sappy MOR duet 'I Know I'd Recognise Your Face', while pale retreads of Greetings' honeyed funk served as filler. Guitarist Joe Falsia was now in the Tonto role, Underwood having stepped down to deal with his drug addiction. Herbie Cohen was obviously calling the shots. "Some of those songs were beautiful but you have to get through Herb's idea of what is commercial," says Underwood.

As commercial compromises go, Sefronia was terrific – radio-friendly and lyrically approachable – but Buckley knew the score. "If I write too much music, it loses, as happened on Sefronia. Y'know, it gets stale." In reference to the folk-rock era, he observed that "the comradeship is just not there any more, and it affects the music." His boisterous barrelhouse sound was showcased at 1974's Knebworth Festival in Britain, where Buckley opened a bill that included Van Morrison, The Doobie Brothers and The Allman Brothers Band. It was his first UK show since 1968, and few knew who he was.

Photographer Joe Stevens reacquainted himself with Tim at a DiscReet launch in London: "He was sitting at a table signing autographs, which I couldn't have imagined him doing before. When he saw me he said, 'Come on, let's get out of here,' before they'd even said, 'Ladies'n'gentlemen, Tim Buckley!' We hit the street, took some photos, then took a taxi back to my place. He spent two days curled around my TV set, cooing at my girlfriend. We got calls from Warners accusing me of kidnapping their artist! You could see what had happened to him. The youth had gone out of his face, and his smile would break into a frown as soon as it had finished."

Look At The Fool (1975), with its frazzled, Tijuana-soul feel, was purer Buckley again, but the songwriting meandered badly – 'Wanda Lu' remains one of the most ignominious final songs of any brilliant career. "It just seemed that the more down he became, the more desperate he sounded," his sister Kathleen told Musician magazine. "The work of a man desperately trying to connect with an audience that has deserted him," pronounced Melody Maker. The photo on the back cover caught Buckley with a quizzical, defeated expression. Look at the fool, indeed. Honest to the end.

In 1974, Buckley wrote to Lee Underwood: "You are what you are, you know what you are, and there are no words for loneliness – black, bitter, aching loneliness that gnaws the roots of silence in the night..."

"Tim felt he'd given everything to no avail," says Underwood. "He was even suicidal for a short while because he felt there was no place left to go, emotionally speaking. He was gaining new audiences and improving his singing within conventional song forms, but comments that he'd sold out made him feel terrible. He never understood his fear of success, and remained divided and tormented to the end. I urged him to take therapy shortly before his death, when he was feeling very bitter, to the point of suicide, but he said, 'Lose the anger, lose the music'."

"We saw a lot of him over the years as disillusionment set in," says Clive Selwood, who, inspired by Buckley's session for BBC's John Peel Show, later founded the Strange Fruit label and its Peel Sessions. "When we first met he spent his leisure time cycling across Venice Beach, guzzling a six-pack. When we last met, he was carrying a gun, in fear of the reactionary side of American life, who despised his long hair. He said, 'If you're carrying a gun, you stand a chance'."

"He continually took chances with his life," adds Larry Beckett. "He'd drive like a maniac risking accidents. For a couple of years he drank a lot and took downers to the point where it nearly killed him, but he'd always escape. Then he got into this romantic heroin-taking thing. Then his luck ran out." Buckley's most revered idols were Fred Neil – who chose anonymity rather than exploit the success of 'Everybody's Talkin'' – and Miles Davis, both icons and both junkies. "He lived on the edge, creatively and psychologically" says Lee Underwood. "He treated drugs as tools, to feel or think things through in more intense ways. To explore."

One planned exploration was a musical adaptation of Joseph Conrad's novel Out Of The Islands and a screenplay of Thomas Wolfe's You Can't Go Home Again. Of more immediate consequence, Buckley had won the part of Woody Guthrie in Hal Ashby's film Bound For Glory. The role might have restored him to public consciousness as well as financial independence, but in the end it went instead to David Carradine.

Buckley was still up for playing live. After a short tour culminating in a sold-out show at an l,800-capacity venue in Dallas, the band partied on the way home, as was customary An inebriated Tim proceeded to his good friend Richard Keeling's house in order to score some heroin.

As Underwood tells it, Keeling, in flagrante delicto and unwilling to be disturbed, argued with Buckley: "Finally in frustration, Richard put a quantity of heroin on a mirror and thrust it at Tim, saying, 'Go ahead, take it all', like a challenge. As was his way, Tim sniffed the lot. Whenever he was threatened or told what to do, he rebelled."

Staggering and lurching around the house, Buckley had to be taken home, where Judy Buckley laid him on the floor with a pillow. She then put him to bed, thinking he would recover; when she checked later, he'd turned an ominous shade of blue. The paramedics were called but it was too late. Tim Buckley was dead.

"I remember Herb saying Tim had died, and we all just sat there," recalls Bob Duffy, Buckley's old tour manager. "It wasn't expected but it was like watching a movie, and that was its natural ending."

"It was painful to listen to his records after he died," says Linda Gillen. "I remember how vibrant he was. He had that same lost alienation as friends who had committed suicide. He was smart, wonderful, mean nasty, kind, racist, and a loyal friend, all kinds of contradictions. A true original."

"When he died, I took a week off," remembers Joe Stevens. "He was special – an innocent in an animal machine."

IN 1983, IVO WATTS-RUSSELL of the 4AD label had the inspired notion to marry the vaporous drama of the Cocteau Twins to Buckley's 'Song To The Siren'. Punk's Stalinist purge was over, and the result was a haunting highlight of post-New Wave rock, launching both This Mortal Coil and Buckley's posthumous reputation.

Before he died, Buckley had been planning a live LP spanning the various phases of his career. Sixteen years later Dream Letter was released to great acclaim. "Nobody would have listened before," reckons Herb Cohen. "Things have their own cycle, usually close to 20 years. You have to wait."

"He knowingly compromised his fierce artistic ideals, but his gut feeling was that he'd get more freedom later," says Larry Beckett. "If he'd gone into hiding for 10 years, no end of labels would have recorded anything he wanted. Things do come around."

"He was one of the great ballad singers of all time, up there with Mathis and Sinatra," believes Lee Underwood. "He would have pulled out of his youthful confusion, expanded his musical scope to include great popular and jazz songs. Tim Buckley didn't say 'I am this, I am that'. He said, 'I am all of these things'."

© Martin Aston, 1995

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 5

@pocketramblr :3

The day started off well. Really, it did. Izuku got up on time, still filled with warm fuzziness from the time he spent with his friends (friends!) the afternoon before, had a good breakfast, left early enough to catch an earlier train, saw an interesting hero fight, and then...

He was hit with a wave of nausea as he caught sight of the crowd outside UA's gates. Was it a mob? An attack? Terrorists?

... Reporters?

Yeah, those were cameras and microphones. But why was a crowd of reporters making him feel this way?

Maybe they were terrorists disguised as reporters. Or, maybe Izuku had picked up some paranoia to go with his anxiety. How fun.

If they were real reporters, they were probably here about All Might. Him cutting back on active hero work to teach had been big news.

Ughhhh. What should he do? Whoever they were, they weren't likely to leave. He didn't want to walk through them, though. What if they were dangerous? (And even if they weren't, he didn't want reporters looking at him, asking him questions. What would he say to them?)

He bit his lip and watched the crowd from around his chosen corner. Why did he have to be so wimpy and timid? He was a hero student, now. He should be better. Braver.

Oh! There was Iida!

He scuttled over to his friend.

"Ah! Midoriya! You're early today! Few people arrive at school at the same time I do!"

"Y-yeah! I managed to catch the earlier train today, so..." He looked back at the crowd of reporters. Maybe reporters. Maybe terrorists. "I think, maybe we should wait to go in as a group, though. I mean, it'll be more efficient than trying to fight through those reporters one at a time, right?"

"An excellent idea, Midoriya!" exclaimed Iida, waving his hands enthusiastically. "It's very admirable of you, to always be thinking about how to help others."

"W-well," said Izuku, blushing. It wasn't untrue, but it also wasn't the whole story. "I mean, I don't... It's more that they kind of freak me out a bit? The reporters..."

Iida nodded sagely. "There are heroes like that, too. Are you planning on going underground, then?"

There was a certain amount of appeal to underground heroics, but he was supposed to be All Might's successor. Then again, if One for All never worked properly for him and Mr. Yagi asked for it back... Quirk or not, Izuku was here, now, in UA, in the hero course, and Mr. Yagi had said he could be a hero without a quirk.

"I haven't really decided yet. But UA teaches all hero course students the three main branches of heroics, so we don't really have to choose a specialty until later, and even then there are heroes like Sir Nighteye who blur the lines, right?"

"Yes, it's one of the things that make UA such a superior institution!" chortled Monoma.

"Ah, Monoma! I agree! It is important for all heroes to be aware of the work their colleagues do, and to be well-rounded individuals!"

Monoma!?

"Um," said Izuku. "When did you get here?"

"Just a minute ago," said Monoma. "I was looking for a way around these savages when I overheard your conversation. Really, it's a shame that UA allows such rabble to prevent students from entering. If only there was something they could do..."

"I'm afraid I must disagree," said Iida. "Freedom of the press is exceedingly important for the function of society!"

Monoma looked slightly alarmed. "I don't mean to say it isn't, it's just-" he gestured at the gates, "-we can't get in. The other entrances are like this, too. It's aggravating."

"There... might be another way in," said Iida, after a moment.

"Oh?"

"Yes, my brother told me about a hidden entrance that was here when he attended UA. I suppose... I suppose these would be the right circumstances to use it."

"Lead the way, then, Iida," said Monoma.

Iida nodded stiffly. "We should wait and see if any of our classmates would like to come with us."

Several of their classmates did want to come with them, including Uraraka, Asui (who was still a little under the weather), Tokoyami (Dark Shadow was not a fan of flashing lights), and Hagakure. They were also joined by a couple of 1-B students, a cadre of business course kids, and a pink haired support course girl who seemed very interested in Iida's legs, much to his flustered confusion.

Kacchan did not join them, much to Izuku's dismay, instead choosing to bulldoze his way through the ranks of reporters, nearly giving Izuku a heart attack when he body-checked a man with blue-white hair.

At this point, their group was becoming rather large and noticeable, and Iida was getting antsy about the time, so off they went.

Iida led them to what appeared to be an entirely unnoteworthy piece of wall and knocked. There was a pause just long enough to make Iida start to sweat, and then the wall opened, revealing Midnight- Ms. Kayama!

"Oh?" she said, clearly delighted. "Chibiida using the top secret teacher's entrance? Has high school done what we couldn't? Are you finally loosening up?"

Chibiida.

Chibiida.

CHIBIIDA.

First: how? Why? Iida was over ten centimeters taller than Izuku! Secondly: Iida was never going to recover from this.

"That- that's not it! At all! I am simply attempting to help my fellow students enter the school without being harassed by reporters, Ms. Kayama!"

"You can still call me big sis Nemuri, you know."

"I refuse! It would be inappropriate of me as a student!"

Ms. Kayama sighed. "Well, you aren't wrong about those reporters. They can be a pain. So, just this once, let me welcome you kids to the forbidden environs of the staff area!" She made a grandiose gesture with her arm. "And it's all thanks to Chibiida here."

Iida started muttering about propriety and rules.

Izuku had the feeling it would be a long day.

.

"All right, Hikage, in your professional opinion-"

"What does building inspecting have to do with anything?"

"What?" said Nana. "I didn't say anything about building inspecting."

"You asked for my professional opinion."

"Yes?" said Nana, already dreading where this would go.

"I was a vigilante. For the purposes of money, I was a professional, licensed building inspector."

"I thought you were a professional hermit," said En.

"I was an amateur hermit. You don't get paid for that."

En blinked. "I can't believe people let you into their buildings."

"There were a few times-"

Nana decided to table the question of how neither she nor En had known Hikage was a building inspector. "Okay, fine. Forget the professional part. In your opinion, what was going on with that one reporter guy?"

"Oh," said Hikage. "He's definitely planning a murder."

"A murder!" exclaimed Yoichi.

"Yes, and probably of someone close to Ninth."

"Why didn't you say something?" demanded Yoichi, attempting to lift the taller man up by the front of his shirt and failing.

"Because there's not much we can do about it?"

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I have to like it!" He spun on his heel and stalked up to the silent and incomplete ghost of Toshinori. "It had better not be you, do you hear me? Don't you dare pull an Obi-Wan on poor, sweet Izuku!"

"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" asked Nana.

"Not really," admitted Banjo.

.

"Today," said Mr. Aizawa, after he finished passing out feedback from the battle trial, "you'll pick a class president."

All around Izuku, his classmates threw their hands into the air, eager for the chance to show off their leadership skills.

Izuku kept his hand down. It wasn't that he didn't want to stand out or do the work! It was just... between training after school with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa and trying to get his anxiety under control, he didn't think he'd do a very good job.

.

Yoichi started disappearing his "Izuku for President" banners.

.

Iida, though... Iida would do well, Izuku thought. Look at him, organizing everyone into a vote.

"You're not running, Midori?" asked Hagakure.

"N-no, haha, I have too many other commitments to do a good job, I think."

"That's too bad! I would have voted for you."

There was a smattering of agreement, mostly from Iida and Uraraka. Izuku started blushing.

"R-really? Why?"

("Strawberry," someone whispered.)

"Well, you helped me out during the entrance exam, and you were pretty cool during training yesterday." More agreement. "But if you're not running, I guess I'll pick Monoma. He did get rid of the purple creep."

"Ahahaha, yes, I am clearly the superior candidate!" crowed Monoma, standing up and putting his foot on his chair to pose.

"But his personality's really weird, which is why you would have been my first choice, Midoriya."

"I think Iida would be a good choice!" said Uraraka, raising her hand. "He's super organized and he helped a bunch of us get past the reporters this morning."

More general agreement. Then Todoroki cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him.

"Yaoyorozu," he said.

That was it.

"Good point," agreed Jirou.

.

"A TIE?!"

.

As the only one who hadn't voted for one of the three in the tie, Aoyama was forced to be the tiebreaker. This was done as dramatically as humanly possible.

Yaoyorozu was now president of class 1-A.

This led to a ferocious battle between Monoma and Iida that Iida won by a single vote. Monoma was promptly chosen as class treasurer. Just in time for their other classes.

.

"Those who possess forbidden knowledge should stay together," said Tokoyami gravely as he sat down with Uraraka, Iida, and Izuku.

"Are you talking about the staff area?" asked Asui, who slid in after him.

"Indeed," intoned Tokoyami gravely. "The dark path we have all walked-"

"Fumi is just bad at asking people to be his friends!"

"Dark Shadow!"

Izuku almost started crying into his rice. Having friends was so great.

"I'll be your friend!" said Izuku.

"Me, too!" said Uraraka, pumping a fist.

"Ah," said Tokoyami, coughing into a fist. "I am sure we will be great companions in the darkness of the coming days."

Speaking of darkness... Izuku couldn't help but feel uneasy about... something. He had been ever since seeing those reporters.

"So, Midori, is your hair full of secrets?"

"Wh-what?"

"Don't listen to her! She's just being silly! Like a little sister."

"It's what you always say about that actor you like! His hair is fluffy because it's full of secrets!"

"So, you and Dark Shadow are like brother and sister?" asked Midoriya, changing the subject.

The conversation segued into discussion of their families, and just when Iida was extolling the virtues of his older brother, Izuku's unease spiked. He dropped his chopsticks.

"Is something wrong?" asked Uraraka.

"I... don't know? It just feels like something bad is going to-"

The school alarm promptly went off.

.

"Wow!" said Kirishima. "Iida can do entrances and exits! Manly!"

.

"Wow," said Banjo, "I guess they picked the right guy for the job, after all. He can find entrances and exits! More than my class vice president ever did..."

"Are you copying the small red child?" asked Hikage.

"What?"

"Never mind."

.

"Today's heroics class will be focused on how to fall safely and other basic combat techniques. Before we begin, although you may practice these techniques on your own, outside of class, if you want to spar with others, you need adult supervision until you reach a level where I'm satisfied you won't seriously injure yourself or others by mistake. Now, firstly..."

.

"Mr. Aizawa? Is- um. Was it really just the press breaking in earlier?"

It was time for his first special quirk training with Aizawa, and he should be asking what they were doing today (especially since Aizawa had him change out of his gym uniform and back to his regular uniform), but he couldn't stop thinking about the break-in.

"What makes you think otherwise?"

"I'm, well, I'm not sure? I just, this morning, when I saw them, I got a really bad feeling? Like something bad was going to happen. And it doesn't seem, um, logical, that normal reporters would be able to do that to UA's gate. I mean, anyone can have any quirk- no such thing as a villainous quirk. But someone with a quirk like that, they'd put a lot of effort into controlling it and stuff so stuff like this wouldn't happen by mistake. I guess a reporter could have done it on purpose, though, but then it'd be really easy for UA to find out it was them, wouldn't it? Or the police. Since heroes and police have access to the national quirk registry, so you just have to cross-reference reporters with the registry to find quirks that could fit. But would they know that? Anyway, it seems more logical for a third party to have used the press as cover to infiltrate the school. But why? If nothing is missing and no one is hurt, which would be grounds for school being canceled, the next conclusion would be information gathering. But that still leaves the question of the ultimate ends- Mr. Aizawa? Are you okay?"

His teacher had been glaring at a camera mounted in the corner of the classroom and mouthing things at it.

"I'm fine," said Aizawa. He sighed. "You are right that we haven't located the person who destroyed the gates, but please be assured that we are investigating the incident throughly. Especially Principal Nezu." He shot another glare at the camera, as if to say he'd better be.

"Regardless, it isn't something you need to worry about as a student. We're adding more safety protocols to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, okay. S-so, what are we doing today? Sensory deprivation? Electric shocks? Stress positions? Bean bag barrage for dodging? High stakes hell exam?" He was ready for anything and very excited.

Aizawa stared at him flatly. "We're... doing quirk counseling."

"Yes?"

"Kid... except for maybe the last one... what exactly gave you the idea that any of those things had anything to do with quirk counseling?"

Izuku started to get the feeling he'd seriously messed up. Except he didn't feel particularly anxious about it.

"Oh, uh, Mom used to get brochures like that in the mail, after I was diagnosed? She didn't ever answer any, but... Apparently, some people originally thought to be quirkless got quirks after being in a high stress situation."

"But no one actually did any of those things to you."

"Not really?"

"Midoriya..."

Izuku looked away. He shouldn't have said anything. He didn't like the quirk counselor at Eisley Elementary, but he didn't want to get her in trouble, either. After all, he was the only one she had to do that stuff with, since his quirk hadn't shown up...

Aizawa sighed with the air of someone exercising a lot of self-control. "Except for that last one," said Aizawa, "and that's debatable, all of those are torture techniques."

Ah. Well. That maybe explained a few things.

"They are not a normal part of quirk counseling. At some point, we may incorporate some combat into this, but that will be to help you become more familiar with your quirk. Not just for the sake of making you stressed."

"But if we aren't doing combat, what are we doing?"

"Well, first we're going to try to figure out what your quirk is. Why don't you sit down." He took out some papers as Izuku made his way to his desk. "Alright. I'm going to go through these questions and write down your answers... then we're going to go through them again while I'm canceling your quirk." He paused. "Actually, first. What did you mean when you said you had a bad feeling about the reporters?"

.

"If I were alive," said Yoichi, "I would be committing so much murder right now."

"I thought we left this behind when Ninth graduated," said Nana. "I thought you said you were going to forgive them because they were stupid kids and Ninth forgave them."

"Well, first off, I lied. Secondly, teachers aren't kids. If we ever get hit by a quirk that brings us back to life, the quirk counselor at his old school will be my first victim."

Nana sighed. "That isn't going to happen."

"Who's going to stop me?"

"Less a who, and more the fact that there has never been a quirk that could revive the dead."

"Meaningless!" exclaimed Yoichi. "Death cannot stop me!"

"Think he's finally lost it after all this time?" asked En, leaning towards Nana.

"No, I think he's just messing with us," hoped Nana.

.

"Alright, kid," said Aizawa exhaustion evident in his tone. "Between your answers, your exam results, the battle trial results, how you react when I use my quirk on you, and Monoma's assessment... Your quirk is at least partially sensory.",

Izuku tried not to feel disappointed, but that seemed rather incomplete as a conclusion. Even though he knew about Danger Sense and this probably was Danger Sense.

"Yeah, I know, it's underwhelming, but remember this is the first session. Whatever your quirk actually does, though, you seem to be using it to detect threats."

Okay, that was more in line with expectations.

"I mean... maybe? I think so. That feels right."

"We also need to figure out what it's stockpiling. Have you ever felt any particular draw to certain situations? More than your peers?"

"Um. I watch a lot of hero fights?"

"You're a fight chaser?"

"A little bit?" admitted Izuku, squirming a little.

Aizawa sighed heavily. "I seriously hope your quirk doesn't stockpile danger- don't test that."

He wasn't going to!

Probably.

Speaking of, though, what did One for All actually stockpile? Power was a very vague description... He'd just went along with it because a) quirk and b) All Might, but it would probably be good to know.

"Next time we meet, I'll be running you through the basic quirk assessment battery- that's a series of tests usually given to five-year-olds to help their pediatric quirk doctors and quirk counselors identify difficult or stubborn quirks. You should have gone through it when you were younger."

Izuku shook his head. "All I remember is the x-ray."

"Why would you get an x-ray?"

"For the toe joint? To tell whether or not I was quirkless?" Why was he saying this? He was going to blow his cover and his secret out of the water! This was so dumb.

But he did say it. Maybe it was his guilty conscience from lying to and misleading Mr. Aizawa so much.

"That's a myth," said Aizawa.

"What?"

"It isn't true." Aizawa began to slump down in his seat. "It's an old wives' tale. Everyone quirkless has the double joint, but not everyone with the double joint is quirkless. I have the double joint, as do about twenty-five percent of people with meta quirks." By the time he finished, only the top half of his face was visible.

"Oh," said Izuku. He wasn't sure what else to say. At least the secret of One for All was completely intact.

"I hate to say this, kid, but it sounds like everyone involved in your early quirk education was incredibly incompetent. You shouldn't have had to deal with that, even if you were truly quirkless. It takes just as much counseling to deal with that in today's day and age as something like, say, Ashido's quirk."

Izuku had never heard it put like that before. "Okay."

"Now, before I send you off for today, do you have any questions about anything we'll be doing? Any of the tests we'll be running, normal quirk counseling procedures, anything. It's important for you to feel comfortable about this."

Izuku's eyes teared up. This had already been a very emotional day, and he wasn't sure a teacher had ever asked him that and meant it. "Mr. Aizawa," he said, earnestly, "you're the best teacher I've ever had."

"Is that a joke?" asked Aizawa, flatly.

Izuku shook his head, centrifugal force flinging his teardrops away.

"That's messed up, kid. I'm terrible."

"You're the best," protested Izuku.

"I just need you to know how incredibly low that bar is. Your other teachers must have gotten shovels to dig tunnels under it. They must be dancing limbo in hell."

Izuku blinked. He had no idea what that meant. "I think they're all still alive..."

"Not for long," muttered Aizawa.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

What Instruments would the Companions play?

Fallout 4 -- 

Cait: Uilleann Pipes (or Elbow Bagpipes) 

     - Okay, it's not just because it’s an Irish instrument (I mean, I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it), but also it's the way the unique pipes are played. The player is seated with the instrument strapped to their waist and dominant hand, using their opposite elbow to control the flow of air in the bag (rather than blowing into it like with normal bagpipes). It's a complicated instrument that requires an immense amount of physical control and discipline to play, which meshes well with Cait's physicality and athleticism. She's had the instrument as long as she can remember, finding it lying around in her childhood home. She managed to grab it before her parents sold her, and though it does sometimes remind her of them, all of the hours she spent learning to play it practically forces her to hold onto the instrument. She is wildly adept at playing it, and will sometimes do so in front of Sole, as long as they keep quiet about this ability of hers.  

Curie: Violin

     - A delicate instrument that requires dexterity and control, Curie would love the challenges that playing the violin would present. She found the string instrument in the depths of the vault before she became a synth, but held onto it thinking one day she would find someone who could make it sound beautiful. When she made the change to her synth body, she was incredibly excited to finally be able to play it, and though it took a while, she managed to become quite skilled. As a medical professional, she already has incredible coordination, so not only does the violin provide a creative outlet for Curie, but also it allows her to practice her control, since she still is getting used to just having the two hands, and all of her fingers. Once well-practiced, she loves to play softly to recovering patients in her ward. 

Danse: Baritone

     - When he first found the large horn, he didn’t really know what to think of it, he certainly didn’t consider playing it. However, once Sole explained it to him and told him how the instrument is played, he decided to pick it up one day when he was alone. He might have a hard time at first, since learning to play a new instrument can be especially frustrating for someone as hard on themselves as Danse is, but once he gets the hang of it, he's a big fan of the rich, loud sound it creates. He still rarely plays in front of anyone else (Sole and Haylen being the only exceptions), but he likes to practice in the little amount of downtime that he does have. Plus he enjoys caring for it by constantly cleaning and polishing the different pieces of the larger brass instrument. 

Deacon: Kazoo 

     - It started out as a joke, he found a little metal kazoo, discovered the manner in which to play it, and decided to have a field day with Carrington back at HQ. Later though, after practicing a number of the most obnoxious songs he could find, he found he was quite good at it and quickly he grew fond of the plucky little instrument. Now he carries it around with him almost everywhere, telling everyone that he plays it ironically, but deep down he knows that he truly enjoys it. 

Hancock: Saxophone 

     - Hancock has quite the reputation of being good with his lips and hands, and his adept ability to play the saxophone would only support this. He's had a lot of time to perfect his playing and will sometimes go up on stage with Magnolia to the delight of nearly everyone in Goodneighbor. He loves the instrument's smooth, jazzy sound and always revels in showing off his skills with a good solo.

MacCready: Harmonica 

     - An easy instrument to carry with you on the road, MacCready picked it up in his travels and messed with it whenever he knew the sound wouldn't endanger him. After a couple years, he became quite skilled with the wind instrument and would play it both for Lucy and Duncan as often as he could. He always keeps it with him, almost as a crutch at this point, even if he can't find the right place to play it, just having it with him reminds him of his travels with his son and his late wife. 

Nick: Piano 

     - Always the classic gentleman type, it's no surprise that the old detective knows how to manipulate piano keys in such a way that he seems to transport you back in time to a dark and hazy pre-war bar. The old Nick is where the original skill came from, but the synth's fingers are much more nimble than the human Nick's were. He enjoys playing whenever he can find a piano; however, be warned, if it isn't tuned, you can bet your ass he'll do his best to rectify that, which could take a couple hours at best, and a few days at worst.

Piper: Tambourine 

     - The percussion instrument was a gift from her father, so she's held onto it since she was young and always takes extra care in looking after her tambourine (she considers it the most important item she owns, after her printing press of course.) Besides the fact it was a gift from a loved one, she likes the instrument because of its simplicity and the way she can easily come up with and control her own rhythm. She fondly remembers many an evening prattling away at the tambourine while her and Nat danced the night away in a rare moment of true childish fun. Sometimes Nat will pick up the instrument while Piper is busy at the typewriter and try to create a beat to her sister's typing. 

Preston: Banjo

     - Does this one need an explanation? Preston just gives me mad banjo vibes. Imagine the joy he feels sitting around a campfire, striking up a tune that everyone knows, encouraging all the people around him to join in on the song. He tells himself that he does it for the benefit of those around him, to distract them from their troubles and the cruelty of the wasteland, but the truth is, he does it just as much to distract himself. It makes him happy to see others happy around him, and if the banjo provides a way to do that, then Preston will do his best to stay practiced in as many feel-good songs as he can.

X6-88: Upright/Double Bass 

     - This instrument is an absolute beast, coming in at about 6 feet tall and weighing about 45 lbs, but X6 would welcome the challenge of playing such an instrument; his own height and the large size of his hands providing a distinct advantage in learning how to play the bass properly. Not being of the faint of heart, X6 practices until his playing ability is nearly flawless, reveling in the deep, rich sound that emanates from his intimidating instrument. He prefers to read music and follow chord structure rather than improvise when he is playing, and he works to try and perfect every technique that he can, ranging from using a bow (arco), to striking with his fingers (pizzicato), to slapping the strings against the fingerboard. 

Fallout 3 -- 

Butch: Clarinet 

     - The poor 14 year-old was horrified when he was handed the old reed instrument when inducted into the vault 101 school band. But as Butch grew older, and his playing abilities increased, he realized he could make some pretty cool sounds with this thing. Jazz was always one of his favourite genres of music, and the clarinet allowed him to play along to many of his favourite songs. He doesn't bring the instrument with him while traveling, but he will play it when at home and sometimes will be bold enough to play for audiences at bars. 

Charon: Bass Guitar

     - He had never touched a bass before coming across one while traveling with Lone, but as soon as he picked it up, he found he had an affinity for it. Charon was patient with himself as he learned how to play, his scarred fingers both a blessing and a curse. Though it was sometimes difficult to get the chords right, he didn't have to worry about bloody fingers from long hours practicing plucking the rough strings. He comes up with a few bass lines on his own, then tries replicating songs that he hears. Charon actually really enjoys the creative outlet, and it's the perfect activity to focus on when Lone is gone. 

Clover: Flute

     - Clover treasures her flute, as the instrument was a gift from Eulogy that only reinforces the idea that she's his favourite. After all, he never gave Crimson a flute, or any other instrument for that matter. She finds it difficult at first, as she works to master her finger position and airflow, and occasionally she gets frustrated to the point of being completely unable to play; but once she gets the basics down, Clover uses the little woodwind instrument as a way to distract herself from her jealousy and tends to play it as aggressively as one can play a flute when Eulogy insists on spending time alone with Crimson. Otherwise, she will sometimes play it with Eulogy as her only audience member, but her favourite is when she can sit on her own and play the flute for herself, it makes her happy and it let's her see how far she's come since she was first gifted the instrument. When she begins traveling with Lone, she holds onto the flute and continues to play it for her own benefit, and of course, she wouldn’t be opposed to playing for Lone, if they were to ask...

Cross: Trumpet

     - She discovered the small brass instrument in her travels to pre-war military locations, and was interested in the history of the horn in regards to the old U.S. military. When she first picked it up, she wasn't a huge fan of the brash noise that comes from it, but as she grew more adept at playing it, she found she liked the sound. Cross takes inspiration from the bugle music that was played before the war, and replicates it for the members of the brotherhood of steel. 

Fawkes: Bongos 

     - He's been a fan of percussion ever since he was locked in isolation in the vault. Throughout his time there, he would often find different surfaces to drum his hands on to pass the time. Lone began noticing this little habit of his, and when they surprised him with a pair of bongo drums, Fawkes was elated. He plays them as often as he can, but usually waits until they are at home, after all, he couldn't risk losing or damaging them out in the wastes. But it's his favorite way to relax and unwind after Lone and him return from the hostile wasteland to the security of their home. He did once bring them to Underworld to play for the residents there, but he was anxious about harming the instrument the whole way there and the whole way home. 

Jericho: Maracas

     - Jericho wouldn't have the patience to sit down and learn a complex musical instrument, so maracas are a good fit for him. He found a single one when he and Lone were traveling and didn't think much of it, but thought it was interesting enough to hold onto. Once Lone explained what they believed it was, Jericho began to experiment with the instrument when he was alone (he couldn't risk Lone seeing him acting like such an idiot, with this glorified baby rattle.) But once he discovered another one, he decided he liked the sound of them together. Even though the maracas are all mismatched, he keeps any that he can find and tries them all paired with one another. He still tries to keep it on the down low, but every once in a while he'll know that Lone is listening in, he'll utter some rude comment, but continue playing as though Lone weren't there. 

Fallout New Vegas -- 

Arcade: Ukulele 

     - Arcade doesn't know how it happened, how he found the little guitar-like instrument, honestly, it was left in his tent at the fort, and he doesn't know where it came from. For the longest time, he just left it where it sat near his bed, unsure what to do with it, but after a couple weeks passed, he felt like he had to do something with it. So he started to pluck at the nylon strings, and he couldn't keep from uttering a small yelp of surprise at the sweet sound of the instrument. He doesn't play often, and he still needs to practice, but when he's alone, Arcade loves to strum the strings and come up with little tunes that end up getting way too stuck in his head. 

Boone: Cajón

     - The little, wooden, box-shaped drum is a practical instrument that isn't complicated to play and is easy to transport, making it a nice fit for the 1st recon sniper. Boone has had restless hands for as long as he can remember, and the problem has only gotten worse since the incident at bitter springs, so originally, when he found the cajón and brought it back to his room at the NCR barracks, he would tap at the different sides just as a little habit. However, when he discovered the way each side differed in pitch, he found he could manipulate the tapping of his hands in such a way to create some interesting beats. He brought it with him when he left the NCR and keeps it at his place in Novac to play with whenever he's there. Now it's not only an entertaining pastime, but it's ended up being very therapeutic for him. 

Cass: Acoustic Guitar

     - As a caravaner, you tend to pick up some of the habits of other caravan members that you meet in your travels. Originally, Cass found the guitar and made the decision to sell it, but that was before the guard of another caravan sat himself down by the fire one night, grabbing the instrument from beside Cass's pack, and began to play. When he first picked up the guitar, Cass was ready to deck him for touching one of her wares, but after hearing him play it, she couldn't help but ask him to teach her. She tends to bring the instrument with her when she can, but usually she'll keep it in a safe place so she can practice in her down time. 

Raul: Flamenco/Spanish Guitar 

     - Raul's nimble fingers are good for more than just making repairs, despite their ghoulified appearance, they still possess the muscle memory of when he learned to play the Flamenco guitar before the bombs fell. His family down in Mexico really appreciated the importance of music, and Raul still believes that it helped him get through some of the toughest times after the bombs fell. He makes it a priority to find guitar strings for when his end up breaking, and he tries to keep his original guitar in pristine condition. He doesn't play too often, but when he does, Six can hardly believe the skill in which he plucks the strings of the pre-war instrument.

Veronica: Drums

     - Every time Veronica was sent out on recon, she would keep her eyes peeled for another drum or symbol to add to the developing set she had hidden away at Helios One. It started with a simple snare, then a symbol she had found, and when she discovered a bass drum, she hid it outside the building before she was assigned guard duty, and she snuck the large drum down to her set. She loves the outlet that playing the drums provides, and though she sometimes worries someone will hear her, the risk is worth the thrill of going all out when she takes a seat in front of her drum set. After the events at Helios One that eventually led to her leaving the brotherhood facility, she makes plans to one day return to retrieve the instrument she left hidden away.

[pinnochiro]

pinn reviews - final fantasy xv

a long ramble about final fantasy fifteen that sort of looks like a review, as written by someone who finished the game fifteen minutes ago and needs to get these words out of his head. spoilers inbound.

i'm a pretty big fan of video games. i don't know what my first was, but it was probably either banjo and kazooie or mario kart 64, at my cousin's house when i was very small. i think that video games as a medium are so interesting, since the fact that video games are inherently interactive changes the way that they tell any story. it's a shame that despite loving video games so much, i'm absolutely terrible at them.

i'm absolute dogshit at video games. whenever i boot up something new, i always play on easy mode because. i'm that bad. unfortunately, this means that a lot of video games are simply. impossible for me to beat. that's fine, as at the moment i live with my good friend lizz, who is certifiably Good at Video Games, and so we've been playing video games together for a little bit now. typically this means that she will actually play the majority of the game while i sit with her and watch, but occasionally i'll have a go, but she'll end up with the controller as soon as a boss fight or puzzle or a mechanic i just can't seem to grasp shows up. we recently played through the entirety of the kingdom hearts series together, and this was an absolute blast of a time. i'm glad to say that i adore kingdom hearts now, and it's become one of my hyperfixations, which you might be able to tell from my icon. but we'd finished the kingdom hearts series, and we were left to move onto something else. we'd also played final fantasy 7 remake, so in my wisdom, i suggested that we play another final fantasy game.

we looked through the ff games that were already purchased on our consoles thanks to lizz's uncle, and eventually, we decided that we should play. all of them. however to start, we were going to play final fantasy xv, 15, and work our way backwards through the mainline, single-player games.

i'd heard that xv wasn't very good, but honestly, i was still quite curious. one person who i'd been following on twitter for years was pretty obsessed with the main party members, to the point where i knew their names and what-not even though i didn't have much of an idea what the game itself was about. i remember watching a video by supereyepatchwolf a few years ago about how the game sucked, but i couldn't remember much of the details, and i knew, based on my obsession with kingdom hearts, that xv had started as a different game called final fantasy versus xiiv. i don't know all the details about versus thirteen, but i do know that it was originally helmed by the creator of my beloved kingdom hearts, mr tetsuya nomura, and that after many years, the vast majority of the game was thrown out, nomura wasn't in charge any more, and the whole thing was rewritten and reworked, which sounds like a fairly rough development cycle. but so what, i don't care about gameplay. i want to play the video game with those cute guys that i see fanart of on twitter, and lizz seemed happy enough to play through it with me.

and so we started final fantasy xv. i've been told that since the game was practically dead on arrival, they threw in a bunch of new content and reworked a lot of the early game before i got my hands on it. so my gameplay started with a scene of the four guys fighting some demon dude on fire and they're all old and grotty. whatever, that cutscene ends and we're put into a combat tutorial. that's over and we're on the road in what looks to be central america, pushing a car.

our four leading lads are noctis, the prince of the lucis empire, his best friend prompto, his bodyguard, gladio, and his chef and other things, ignis. i do quite like the main four members of the party in xv. prompto is quite easily my favourite, voiced by robbie daymond of goro akechi fame and with a bunch of fun little animations and quips that make him very likeable. he gets extremely excited at the idea of riding chocobos and has what i considered the best scene of the game, where he and noctis meet on a motel rooftop and discuss prompto's imposter syndrome, since he's only part of noctis' official retinue as his best friend. noctis is a fairly typical main protagonist, he's in love with a woman he hasn't seen in eight years and needs to go marry her or something, i don't care. gladio is a tough macho man with a mullet who wears leather jackets and wields a greatsword, and is apparently only 22, which is at least 10 years younger than i assumed. ignis is a strategist and chef, who takes on the most authoritative role and constantly tells noctis to not drive his car at night. i was not a fan of ignis at the start, but he grew on me, especially with how hard the game hit me with his personal arc. the four boys are off, driving to noctis' wedding in a different country across the desert when their car breaks down. we then run into the first issue of the game.

cindy is a mechanic. she also has her ass and tits out constantly, like your sleazy uncle's shirt with a naked woman was instead semi-alive as a video game person. she fixes your car and acts fairly sexual and it's just like. why do we have to do this. aren't we over overtly sexualised women in video games who have no reason for the way they dress other than the character designer was horny? whatever, i like women as much as the next guy, but cindy's design just. makes me feel so uncomfortable.

anyways you get to do a little driving around with the boys, until you stay the night before catching the boat to your fiance. overnight, you find out that noctis' kingdom has been basically destroyed by an invading empire called niflheim, and practically everyone noctis knows, including his father, are dead. you learn that noctis and his bride to be are also assumed dead, with noctis hearing his own death announcement on the radio. the game has a bunch of added cutscenes that are actually footage from the three-hour-long prequel movie that came out after the game, are extremely hard to follow and honestly i had no idea what i was looking at. anyways, noctis' family is dead, so it's time to do some hunting sidequests.

that brings us to the combat, i suppose. rather than the turn-based or even active turn-based combat that the series is known for, xv opts for more modern action rpg-styled combat. i was, naturally, terrible at this, but i managed to get around it with the fact that. it is almost impossible to die in this video game, provided you have enough items. the game allows you so much time to heal yourself that there's practically no way to have your entire party wipe unless you're doing absolutely terrible, and even then, your party members will probably try and heal you themselves before that happens. lizz tells me that the combat is boring, you just push the same button over and over and then you win. i do appreciate that, for someone like me who is terrible at reading enemy movements, there is a giant button that pops up on screen that tells you when to push the block button, but even then i was prone to fucking it up. whether that's the bad game design or my terrible gaming abilities is up to you to decide. anyways, the game is fairly easy but has annoying combat, your teammates limit breaks will only land about 50% of the time (or never, if you are gladio) and i was still bad at it, so i didn't have all that much fun.

instead of an active levelling system, the game will only tally your character's level ups when you either make camp or visit a hotel. camping is, in my opinion, the only saving grace of this game. each time you make camp, you get to see the characters doing fun little camping activities together and just hanging out, ignis will cook up a new meal in a dramatic fashion and everyone will compliment him and eat it off their coleman's branded plates, it's just very fun. you also get to see what pictures prompto has taken, which is one of my favourite gameplay features. prompto's passion is photography, and while i support him in this wholeheartedly, his picture taking skills are, quite frankly, awful. the game will randomly take shots while you're on the move, which leaves you with a delightful selection of awkward poses, characters hidden behind bushes, pictures taken while someone is half-dead in combat, and snaps where the natural lighting absolutely makes it impossible to tell what's going on. it's hilarious and going through prompto's collection of photos each night is honestly the best part of the game. we managed to wind up with a few shots that, even despite being scripted events, turned out absolutely terrible, and i will cherish those forever.

anyways, since noctis' father and fiance are dead, that leaves him the king of lucis. the only important person to make it out of the capital alive tells you to drive to the middle of nowhere, where he randomly springs on you. hey. go into a bunch of these dungeons and absorb a bunch of swords, this is your destiny as king and how you will defeat the empire. noctis goes, uh, alright i guess, and you're set loose again to wander around for a bit collecting the 'royal arms'. this plot point wasn't explained well but hey, whatever, we're collecting the glowy swords and that's fine.

you're introduced at some point to ardyn, the main antagonist. he's old, kind of groady and wears a fedora. he's a dick to you and talks about his automobeeel. apparently my friend miri thinks he's hot, she is wrong.

i can't remember what happens specifically but you're told that your fiance is still alive and in fantasy venice, and she's talking to the gods on your behalf to borrow their powers. there's a mission where you follow some purple trees that are electric, and you do that i guess. i enjoyed riding the chocobos around, but couldn't care much for the plot at this point. ardyn leads you to a volcano, where you fight a giant lava god. he tries to step on you and i, a denizen of the internet and with an active fear of foot fetishists, was extremely uncomfortable. noctis becomes friends with foot man and a lightning god who lived in those trees, and ardyn steals your car.

very upset by this, noctis and his gang risk everything to sneak into a military base and steal it back. because this is a video game, this works out fine.

there's a little mining city which is all about Girl Power, because all the Women run the Mining Industry like Girl Bosses, and you hang around there for a bit. because all the women are so Empowered, they wear bikinis all the time with overalls over the top. gladio decides he needs to fuck off for a bit, i have no idea what he does since i haven't played the dlc, and then he comes back with another scar. you hang out with his sixteen year old sister, who has a crush on the engaged and 20-year old noctis, and then you drive her to a lighthouse. when she's in your party, she can't really fight, but she gets a pink chocobo and i thought that was very cute. we turned out own chocobo white and lizz named him 'jones' after a mount she has in ffxiv.

eventually, you have a long boat ride over to fantasy venice. this is the part where the game stops being 'fun with a few issues in combat and a rushed and poorly told story.' the open world, which was a main feature with a bunch of little areas to find where noctis can fish, little hunting sidequests and random photo spots where prompto takes touristy photos, is now gone, and it will not return for the entire rest of the game. you can 'go back in time', but the open world was the most enjoyable part of the game, and it kind of really sucks that the main story doesn't let you have any more freedom like that.

after arriving in fantasy venice, you have a talk with fantasy hillary clinton and beg her to let your girlfriend summon a god into the middle of her city. hillary agrees, and you don't get to meet up with your fiance, because even if the game is constantly telling you how much noctis loves her, there is. barely any interactions between the two in the entire game. from what i can tell, they met when noctis was a child and they haven't seen each other in ten years but are still fantasy dog pen-pals. noctis marrying her was supposed to make an alliance or something like that, but her brother has betrayed her to the army. noctis' girlfriend is also an oracle, which means she can heal people, i guess? everyone talks about how important she is and she's constantly telling people that she needs to use her powers to help noctis but she's practically a non-entity.

as can be expected of most female love interests in a game primarily focused on men, noctis' fiance is killed while summoning a god for noctis to befriend. noct gets very mad about this, and turns super saiyan and kills the god back, but his girlfriend is dead and that's super sad you guys. there's a beautiful prerendered cutscene where she says goodbye to noctis but since we barely know her, and we've only been told over and over that they're in love without anything to actually well, show this, it didn't have much of an impact. fantasy venice is destroyed, and ignis is blinded while trying to help calm the giant raging god.

iggy's blindness and how the game makes you account for this and grow to care for him was one of the highlights, in my opinion, as well as crushingly depressing. while i'm not disabled and have no right to say if this was 'good disabled representation' or anything like that, i believe that the game handles it decently enough. the group falls apart as noctis is upset about his girlfriend, gladio is extremely mad that noctis won't care for ignis, and prompto just wants everyone to get along. there's a mission where gladio constantly yells at you passive aggressive things to noctis about how he's a cunt for running, which is obnoxious, but the character arc itself is fairly strong. when you make camp, ignis can't cook anymore, so everyone eats cup noodles in a depressing ass cutscene. ignis remains in your party for the rest of the game despite his disability, and he doesn't magically regain his sight like other fantasy media would do, which at the very least i think is good. i'm not sure what the opinion of actual disabled people is of the character, considering how often disabled characters are either turned into misery porn to make the abled audience be glad that isn't them and if ignis' arc falls into this trap, but i hope that it wasn't handled too poorly, as that would just be another terrible mark in this game's list of bad moves.

the characters eventually make it to the evil empire's capital, which is abandoned and filled with daemons. the characters learn that ardyn is super evil and taught the king of the empire how to turn humans into daemons, which has now happened to the entire city. the 'magitek suits', presumed to be enchanted armour that fights as the empire's infantry, actually house the souls of the human-turned daemons. honestly i like this as a plot point but the game handles it pretty terribly. there could have been more lead up to this, the explanation is pretty lacking, and prompto's Big Plot Twist is. terribly handled. turns out that prompto was born in the empire and was going to be one of those empty soldier daemons, but he was rescued by people belonging to noctis' empire. not that the game tells you that. instead, prompto goes 'turns out i'm one of ... them' and Does Not Elaborate. The game doesn't tell you shit, not about prompto's past, not about how he feels about this, not about how anyone else feels about this either because the other party members just go 'oh that sucks, good thing you're not evil' and the scene ends. robbie daymond tries so hard to sell these terrible, terrible lines, and it almost entirely fails, i'm so sorry prompto. fortunately because i'm a nosy ass, i read prompto's wikia page and knew the plot twist ahead of time, because i don't think i would have even registered it if i didn't.

anyways everyone in the evil empire is dead and ardyn starts talking about how he's immortal and an ancient king of noctis' country but the gods thought he sucked because he's too evil. i missed most of this because the cats got the zoomies and were dashing across the couch right in the middle of his speech so i can't tell you anything else. noctis tries to get a big magic crystal to fight him and instead. gets schlorped inside.

TEN YEARS LATER

yes then ten years actually pass while noctis is asleep. the game shows this by switching the head on noctis' character model to have a beard, but that's it, no changes in animations or whatever. the sky is permanently night and only one human civilisation remains, the rest destroyed by daemons. as a plot point, this ends up feeling. extremely worthless. why was noctis asleep for ten whole goddamn years? so we can wake up and go 'damn it sucks out here'. but it's barely even a like, incentive to fix everything, because you have a long talk with a former child you were friends with where he talks about how humanity is still going fine and everyone's okay and the world has moved on without you. it feels. pointless. when you meet up with your party members, they are exactly as you left them, only with slightly different character models. there is no change in the voice performance, the character's movements or how they talk to show that they've been without you for ten years. they barely mention it. i'm just. so confused as to why they decided that a ten year timeskip was the way to go? since nothing really changes, couldn't you have made it like, two years? one year? six months?? have the characters react a little more? something??? at least if it was only a year or so i wouldn't have to deal with the fact that noctis looks like norman reedus with his shitty facial hair now.

anyways after that there's a bunch of long and boring boss fights. you fight some dead kings for some reason, your party members get a little bit to talk about how cool they are and how much they love noctis, and then you meet up with ardyn. there's another boring boss fight and god this was only a few hours ago but it's already gone from my head. you summon the gods and the old kings to beat the shit out of him after you both go super saiyan again? there's incredible music but it feels barely earned and just kind of eh. anyways, noctis dies, which was the price of using the crystal of light or whatever the fuck. his ghost marries his fiance's ghost finally, and they smile as they look at one of prompto's pictures. you can pick any picture you want to go here, and then the credits roll, showing all of the pictures you saved of prompto's shots. showing me all the pictures at the end is honestly lovely, but it really only served to remind me of how much more fun the game was in the first half. and that's the end, of final fantasy xv.

so what did i think of the story? it's terribly cobbled together and struggles to get you to feel anything and play out all the plot beats. you feel awful for the countless employees who spent years working on the beautiful cutscenes only to have them be in this game, which sucks and the story barely gets through. there were parts that i enjoyed, mostly the thing about the daemons being people, but honestly the rest of it is a mess. it's hard to follow at the best of times and just awkward and terribly written at the worst. the ending is cheap, and it doesn't feel like you've actually accomplished anything. i left that game feeling numb and empty, sad that i'd wasted so much time to end up with such a colossal failure of a conclusion.

i had fun with the game when it was my four little guys running around doing sidequests and camping together. after the midway point of the game, there's none of that, and you're bogged down into a plot that just pushes you from point a to point b and boring overlong bossfight to boring overlong bossfight. the character moments between your party are a lot of fun, but the second you hit fantasy venice, everything is pretty much on rails and you can't do anything except what the game tells you explicitly to do.

should you play this game? no lol. if anything i've mentioned about the story interests you, you'll be better off watching a lore video or reading the wiki. if you do want to play it after all that, just don't proceed after the myrthril refining quest, it's pretty much all downhill from there. will i play the dlc? unlikely, i think lizz and i will just watch a cutscene movie of those.

this game left me feeling empty and numb and not in a fun way. i wanted, so, so hard to like this game, and it all crashed around me in a beautifully overproduced and confusingly written cascade. i love you prompto, but even your cute little freckly face and terrible photography can't save this trainwreck of a game.

tl;dr - final fantasy xv sucks. i hope that 13, our next ff game, will be better.

[cultofbeatles]

beginners guide to the beatles

 made one of these a long time ago but i'm surprised by how short it was. so here we go again. doing it right this time lol. 

pov: you told a bad joke and now the beatles are judging you. 

john winston lennon. later in his life known as john winston ono lennon. 

born on october 9, 1940 

i believe in astrology bc how does john just happen to be a libra 

when john was four he started living with his aunt mimi who acted more as his mother figure 

his mother, julia, remarried and would visit him quite a bit.

it was julia who taught john how to play banjo and piano. and she bought his first guitar.

they both had a deep love for music and rock n roll 

he never really thought of her as his mother but more as a cool friend i suppose 

aunt mimi was more rough on him and did the disciplining 

his father was never really present growing up and his uncle passed away when he was young 

he thought he was a curse for the men in his family 

he had five half siblings. two of them, julia and jacqueline, he was pretty close to. the other three he barely knew. 

fashion icon.

hated school but loved art 

very early on he was insecure with himself 

teachers always shit on him and said he would go nowhere in life 

he met paul at a church fete on july 6, 1957 

paul taught him how to play guitar properly.

once told paul that he didnt know how paul carried on after his mother died bc he just didn't think he could do it 

john’s mother died from being hit by an off duty policemen. john was seventeen at the time. 

 he took her death really hard and became a bit of a recluse. 

first serious relationship was with cynthia (we stan her) 

once cynthia cut her hair short and he didn't talk to her for two days. 

hate men. kill all men. 

when he asked her to dance at a party she turned him down saying that she was engaged, and so he said “well i didn't ask you to fucking marry me, did i?” 

slapped her once bc he was drunk and another boy was talking to her.

only time her hit her.

read cynthia’s books about john pls. i beg. 

once a psychic told him that he would be shot in the states.

founder of the beatles and also came up with the name.

instruments he could play: guitar, harmonica, rhythm guitar, banjo, keyboard, piano, saxophone, bass guitar, and a little drums. 

main songwriter in the beatles along with paul.

was more open minded to change in the beatles music. 

was insecure in his relationship with paul after a while bc he thought he only needed him for songwriting. 

would bitch about paul all day long but the second anyone else said something about him he’d be on their ass. 

had a lot of issues and needed a good hug. 

suffered from eating disorders, drug addictions, depression, insecurities, and questioned his sexuality bc of the time. 

was super open minded and ahead of his time in many instances. 

once he was called “the fat beatle” and after that he stopped eating as much.

truly loved his first son, julian lennon, and would buy him presents all the time bc he was excited to see him play with them.

“your famous ex husband”

he enjoyed playing monopoly. 

he once claimed that he saw a ufo.

he had written three books but he always wanted to write a children's book.

 the last song he ever performed in front of a live audience was “i saw her standing there.” with elton john.

he was afraid of the dark. 

found out later in his life that he was dyslexic. 

was also legally blind without glasses.

never could catch a break huh.

said that his best lyric ever was “all you need is love” i agree.

the first time yoko and john met was not at her art exhibit but actually when she approached him about giving away songs for free.

wanted to write a musical with paul. 

once a friend dared him to masturbate ten times in one day and he managed to do it nine times.

would hold circle jerks with paul and a few other friends. 

just dudes being dudes. 

went on a holiday with brian epstein, who was gay, and told some people afterward that they did certain sexual things. but we will never know for sure.

yoko says that john was bisexual.

once in an interview he said that he would of married a rich man or woman if he wasn't in the beatles. 

hated his voice on records. would always ask for effects on his voice for final recordings. 

made a film with yoko where it was just his penis going from flaccid to erect for fifteen minutes in slow motion. 

only beatle not to of become a vegetarian while he was alive. 

murdered on december 8, 1980.

gave his autograph earlier in the day to the man who would murder him.

died at the age of 40.

“all my loving” was played while he was at the hospital.

and its spooky bc a lot of times in interviews he would say “when i'm 40..” 

and it’s sad bc he was finally becoming who he truly wanted to be. 

honorable john moments that i love:

“thanks for the purpler hearts” he says while receiving the silver heart 

“you are the first person from liverpool that i've ever seen” “great”

eric lennon on my mind today 

this come together performance where he messed up the lyrics lol

that interview where paul was sick and john keep checking on him 

john lennon speaking nothing but facts 

when he said that he could see the beatles going separate ways but that they'd always come back together.

SHUT UP 

“shut up while he’s talking..”

this interview breaks my heart sometimes 

and this interview is great as well 

sir james paul mccartney 

born on june 18, 1942

if you ever have spare time just check out this man’s natal chart. 

idk how he’s still alive with his chart tbh. 

he has a younger brother named mike and a step sister named ruth. 

his dad thought he was the ugliest baby he’d ever seen when he was born. 

when he was young paul would kill frogs in a way to prepare himself for the war if he ever was drafted. 

the first instrument he ever learned to play was the trumpet.

I don't even want to list every instrument this man can play but trust me when I say it’s a lot.

but for the beatles he mainly did bass, vocals, and piano. sometimes playing the guitar and the drums.

the beatles was just paul moving really, really fast. 

he lost his mother when he was 14 due to surgery for breast cancer.

never really learned how to cope well with loss of a loved one tbh. 

had the cutest chubby cheeks as a kid tbh 

met john and was accepted into his band 

sometimes they'd ditch school together and either work on music or would visit art galleries.

went to paris with john and john bought him all the banana milkshakes that he wanted.

connected over their love and admiration for music, and bc they had both lost their mothers. 

had a girlfriend’s mom who he would make comb his leg hairs. 

was an ass to his first girlfriend.

kill all men again. 

almost had to marry his girlfriend dot bc she was pregnant, but she ended up losing the baby.

was the one who introduced george harrison to john.

practically despised pete best and stuart stutcliffe bc they were bringing the group down. 

got arrested along with pete best bc they lit a condom on fire in hamburg.

still felt awful and a little guilty when stuart died suddenly. 

main force behind the beatles imo. 

without him we’d have not as much beatles music as we do. 

was dating jane asher throughout majority of the sixties. 

when they first met they talked about syrup and paul fell in love.

they broke things off after she walked in on him sleeping with another woman though.

directed magical mystery tour and it was amazing and I don't care what anyone says ok?

when john divorced cynthia he was the only one not scared of john and went against his wishes of not speaking to cynthia.

was a little controlling at times. 

has a good heart though. 

mal evans had to drive him home once after a beatles sessions bc he was crying so hard. 

was talking about getting the band back to touring when john said he was leaving the group. 

everyone kind of turned against him when the beatles were breaking up and i hate it.

he just wanted what was best for the band.

married linda and had a nice little farm. 

we love that story.

linda i'm free thursday if you want to hang out pls.

started up the whole “no meat monday” thing where you don't eat monday on mondays

food meat. not the other kind of meat.

children: james mccartney, stella mccartney, heather mccartney, mary mccartney, and beatrice mccartney. 

rip martha. 

WINGS!! 

he lost linda in 1998 due to cancer.

 cried for a whole year bc of it.

still has dreams about john and says they're nice.

wrote a sad song about john called “here today.”

really loved john. like..he truly, genuinely did. 

want someone to love me like paul does john. 

“think of me every now and then old friend.”

honorable paul moments:

his story about george’s dad 

“john? he was beautiful. very beautiful.”

humpty dumpty rap 

another story about him and george.

his google search video that I watch every week 

this 

george harrison 

born: February 24, 1943 

or at least we think 

bc he use to say that his birthday was february 25, but later started saying it february 24. 

why can't we change our birthdays its not like we picked it 

he was the youngest child.

baby of the family and of the beatles awwww

two older brothers named harry and peter. one older sister named louise.

when george’s mom was pregnant with him she’d play sitar music.

his mom was super supportive of his career choice 

when he was 16 he worked as an electricians apprentice.

his dad kind of hoped he would start a family business out of it.

george said nah

would ride the bus opposite way of his house just to spend time with paul 

headbutted a kid bc he didn't think they were worthy of paul’s friendship 

was brought into the band bc of paul insisting to john 

would follow john around like a lost puppy when he first met him 

once had an eight hour erection. don't ask me how idk he said it.

was 17 when he lost his virginity and the other band members were in the room watching and cheered him when he finished 

most sex craved beatle tbh 

once walked into a girls dressing room and asked if they could stand there so he could masturbate 

he was the first beatle to go to america 

got a black eye for defending ringo once 

would make john and paul take turns sharing rooms with ringo when he first joined the band so that he felt more welcomed 

when ringo left during the white album and then came back george decorated the studio with flowers for him 

during the beatles first recording session he told george martin that he didn't like his tie

became a vegetarian at 22 

favorite candy was jelly beans and purple was his favorite color 

used the phrase “grotty” in the hard days night movie, hated it, but everyone else picked up on the slang 

met his first wife, pattie boyd, on the set of a hard days night 

was turned down by her at first 

they married in 1966

wouldn't let her do modeling stuff and was kind of an ass 

a stylish couple but not the best image for a healthy relationship 

got into eastern religion around 1965 

during the Hamburg days he would eat chicken on stage 

had an affair with ringo’s first wife maureen 

got a divorce from pattie in 1977

in 1978 he married olivia who he stayed with until his death and had one son with. dhani.

was the first beatle to hit a number one single and album. 

was buddies with led zeppelin

inspired their “rain song” 

smashed a piece of cake on john bonham’s head and then was thrown into the pool by him 

he financed and produced films. had a production company.

tom petty said that george never shut up once you started talking to him 

but he was often referred to as “the quiet beatle”

formed another band called the traveling wilburys

he’d answer questions online in the 2000′s and it’s the cutest thing ever and his answers break my heart too.

“what do you miss most about john lennon?” “john lennon.”

in 1999 a schizophrenic person broke into his house and stabbed him 40 times 

thank god olivia was there bc she was the only braincell in the room 

had to get a part of his lung taken out 

died november 29, 2001 from lung cancer 

ashes were scattered into the ganges river 

honorable george moments:

this interview he did with ringo 

“i'm sad bc i can't play guitars with john anymore. but i did that...i know we’ll meet again some day.”

when he invented reaction videos 

“the wind was blowing.” “..blowing my girl?”

“what kind of girl do you like?” “john’s wife.”

sir richard starkey aka ringo starr 

born on july 7, 1940 

oldest member in the group 

has no siblings 

naturally was left handed but his grandma thought it was bad luck so he writes right handed, and plays drums with a right handed kit 

but does everything else left handed

when he was 6 he fell into a two month coma 

was a very sick child 

when he was 13 he was in the hosiptal for tuberculosis and formed a hospital band 

grew up poor 

loves and looked up to his stepfather a lot 

his step father bought him his first drum kit in 1957

wasn't that great in school bc he missed so much of it from being so sick 

he worked for a britain railway for a while 

also served drinks on a day boat for a job 

loves dancing 

Rory storm and the hurricanes 

got his nickname from all the rings he would wear

replaced pete best as the beatles drummer 

dealt with people hating him for a bit bc they liked pete more 

had to style his hair in a bowl cut to be in the band and i'm still mad at them for making him do that shit 

ringo i'm so sorry 

george martin didn't really like his drumming and had a session drummer come in for the first album 

in 1964 he had tonsillitis, pharyngitis, and high fever all at once and had to be in the hospital for a bit.

was worried the beatles would replace him for good 

he’s a cancer don't worry

was the first beatle to try weed 

drummers always go first huh 

married his first wife, maureen, in 1965 

she kissed paul, ringo, and george.

what a champ

honeymoon was ruined by reporters 

was really insecure in his relationship and needed a lot of reassurance 

had a great relationship with pretty much all the beatles 

but a great one with john 

john felt his most relaxed when he was with ringo

was once in a movie with roger daltrey 

divorced maureen in 1975 

his wife now is barbara bach who he married in 1981 

had alcohol problems 

once gotten so drunk that he beat barbara so badly that he thought he killed her 

put himself into rehab after that 

barbara lowkey looks like jan from the office 

children: zak, lee, and jason

zak is the drummer for the band the who 

peace and love 

but don't send me fan mail anymore 

peace and love 

ringo starr and the allstar band (starting 1981)

was the narrator for thomas the tank engine 

will play at paul’s concerts sometimes now for fun 

mad bc he came on stage during paul’s last concert show and it was on my birthday and I couldn't go to it 

honorable ringo moments:

“do you want me to come with you?”

stupid barbara walters 

talking about paul 

giving us a little dance 

[nikxation]

If You Give a Mothman a Loan

Huge thank you to @birdgirlamp for commissioning me to write a fic by donating to WHO (if you want more information, see this post). Sorry it took so long to get this out, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2359

Characters: Stanford Pines (pre- and post-portal), Fiddleford McGucket (pre-portal), Wendy Corduroy (post-portal... obviously)

~ ~ ~

It’s three months into Fiddleford’s stay in Gravity Falls, and the skeleton in the closet (or the portal in the basement) is slowly looking less and less like just a bundle of messy wires and half-finished structural supports and more like the behemoth of a machine it’s meant to be. The raw stock for the exterior plating should be here any day now, the first of the two power transfer beams is online, and every day is another day closer to their end-goal.

He’ll hand it to Stanford Pines, this is some of their best work yet.

He still remembers the day he arrived and Ford showed him the initial drafts. He’d thought the size was overkill, that the hollowed-out basement beneath the house would just become a room with decent acoustics for him to practice his banjo playing away from his old college roommate while the real machine was built somewhere less cold and damp.

Boy howdy was he wrong.

Now, every time he walks in the room, he feels the thing like the presence it is, towering stories tall, looming over him in a way that he would almost consider menacing if it weren’t for the fact that it’s just a machine.

He’s got blueprints and prototyped miniatures of literal death bots.

So why would the interdimensional portal in the basement put him on edge?

It shouldn’t.

So he shakes the thought away and gets back to work.

An unsuccessful system test led to the time-shift circuit on motherboard seven incinerating again. If he were the kind of man to actually keep count (which he certainly is), he’d know it’s the fourth time in the past week this same part has crapped out on them.

It’s also the reason he’s gonna finally stop out-sourcing these parts and just start making them in-house from now on. He’s about sick of replacing them every five minutes.

That’s what brings Fiddleford to where he is now, with his upper body shoved halfway inside the portal’s support structure and crammed between God knows how many electrical components. His arms have just started to cramp in their rather unnatural position as he pries at the burnt-out part to replace it with a newer one that will hopefully hold out against the power output better than its predecessor.

Ford’s sitting in the control room, supposedly running through some of the math again to double-check that they didn’t miss anything.

The “supposedly” is only because, for the past twenty minutes, the man has been prattling on like Fiddleford’s grandma at Sunday family brunch. He can only hear the occasional snippet from his position (quite literally) inside the portal, and as far as he can tell, he thinks he’s talking about either his most recent research outing, or something about preacher scouting. He wants to lean towards the former, but with the new stories he’s found about a so-called “velocipastor”, he can’t rule out the latter. Either way, the man hasn’t stopped talking long enough to breathe, let alone re-run equations that use relative space-time physics with integrated fourth dimensional calculus.

Fiddleford just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he really can’t hear him.

He snaps the ribbon cable off the still-smoking component (after the first time it blew, he learned to bring heat-resistant gloves in here with him) and is rather glad to see it’s still intact. Rewiring is a day-long project he’s glad to not have to do again. He maneuvers his hand back out into open air and tosses the old piece somewhere into the room before getting to work mounting the new one.

Ford’s voice echoes from the next room over.

“… extra funds… exploring… investing for…”

Bolting the circuit down turns out to be easier the fifth time he has to do it, and he’s about to start running a simple, probably non-exploding test to make sure the new part is integrated correctly when he hears—

“… so I gave Mothman a thousand dollars…”

And that, of all things, stops Fiddleford in his tracks.

“Come again?” he yells. He had to have misheard because he swears he just heard the man say—

“I ran into Mothman in the woods yesterday,” Ford says, all too nonchalantly, “and they told me they were starting up a small business and needed an investment, so I gave them a thousand dollars from my excess funds with a verbal agreement that they would pay me back within the year.”

… So he didn’t mishear him, that’s for darn sure.

The fact that the Mothman is real is surely weird enough. But he’s lived in Gravity Falls (and known Stanford Pines) for long enough that it doesn’t really surprise him too much. No, that’s not the part that brings him to wiggle himself out of his position inside the portal’s underbelly just enough so that he can meet Ford’s eyes in the other room.

“You gave Mothman… a thousand dollars…” Fiddleford says slowly.

“To help kickstart their new business, yes.” It’s so casual, like he doesn’t even register the inherent absurdity in what he’s saying.

“And that business is?”

“Mothballs.”

“Stanford!”

“What?”

“That’s the stupidest scam I’ve ever heard.”

Ford sputters, his face aghast for a moment. “I did not get scammed by Mothman!”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Do you even know what mothballs are for?”

He pauses, his mouth snapping shut, his face turning the slightest shade of red. Fiddleford can see it from the next room over. “No. I always assumed they were some biproduct created by moths during reproduction or something.” Fiddleford lets his head fall back, bonking on a bar of the steel framework behind him.

“Stanford, they repel moths,” he says. “You just let a bunch of moths convince you they’re starting a business making the thing they hate. That’s stupider than the time my neighbor tried to convince me his cat could see God. And you have three PhDs!”

“Four now,” he says quietly, and Fiddleford levels him with a single raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna go back, find that over-glorified insect, and get our money back. Or so help me, I will never do another grocery run for as long as I live here.”

“Oh come now, that’s hardly fair. You know I hate going into town.”

“Then you better hurry along and find him.”

“You honestly believe the actual Mothman is pulling a con.”

“People lie, Stanford,” he says, finally ducking himself back into the machine to finally run the diagnostic on the new circuit. “Even cryptids and aliens probably from another dimension.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s broken a few moments later by the sound of a chair scuffing on the floor and footsteps ascending the wooden stairs out of the basement.

Fiddleford snorts, shaking his head and getting back to work.

~ ~ ~

“So, like, the Mothman,” Wendy says, keeping pace next to him as they make their way back into the woods, the sun’s last rays just starting to slip behind the trees. “The actual Mothman. He’s real?”

“As real as any of the other anomalies in this town,” Ford says, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. He’d heard the cryptid had come back into town again shortly after Wierdmageddon, and after his first attempt at getting his money back a few weeks back (second if you count that time over three decades ago) went sour, he decided to bring back-up this time. But with Stan still out of commission and the kids rightly wanting to stay with him, he was hard-pressed for options. That is until the cashier girl piped up and said she’d do it for ten percent of whatever they recovered.

Ford negotiated her down to eight and a half. She drives a hard bargain; he can see why Stan hired her.

“Dude, that’s sick,” she says.

“I mean, I hardly think they’re ill or anything,” Ford says. “As fast as their moths die off, they re-introduce new ones to the population through some sort of reproductive mitosis—”

“Nah dude, it’s a phrase,” she cuts him off. “Means, like, ‘that’s awesome’.”

“Ah, alright.” Ford pauses to check the anomaly scanner on his watch, the little white blip flashing on the screen. “I’ve never been exceptionally ‘with it’ when it comes to slang, so you’ll have to pardon my misunderstanding.”

“You’re fine, Dr. Pines,” she says. She kicks a loose rock off into the brush. “I’m pretty sure Stan doesn’t understand half of what I say either.” Ford hums an affirmative, intently watching the small blip on his watch, confirming that it is, in fact, slowly moving in their direction. After a few seconds, he drops the bag he’s been carrying with a thwump, a bit of dust swirling up from the dirt.

“We’re going to set up the trap right here,” he says. “We have probably ten minutes until the Mothman comes through here, so we’ll need to act quickly.”

“You got it boss-man.”

It’s a fairly simple net trap, one that they make short work of assembling. Ford had already built the majority of it to bring out here, including a magic-imbued mosquito net that should contain the Mothman’s consciousness so long as they catch the majority of their moths.

He made that mistake last time, the Mothman managing to escape in the couple moths that his trap missed.

“So, you really were in, like, a different dimension for a bunch of years, right?” Wendy asks as she spreads some leaves and twigs over the net.

“Multiple dimensions,” he says as he carefully sets the trap’s trigger pole. “I travelled through thousands of them in my thirty years away from this one.”

“Dude, that’s nuts.”

“It was… pretty sick,” he says, shooting her a wry grin. Wendy groans.

“Well,” she says, “you just confirmed for me that I was right to never teach Stan slang, so thanks for that I guess.”

“Glad to help.” With the trap finally set and ready to go, he pulls the last item out of the bag: the bait, which he flicks on and gently sets down against the trigger.

“That’s a flashlight,” Wendy says, the statement almost a question.

“Indeed, it is.”

“Is it, like,” she says, waving her hands slightly, “I don’t know, magic or something?”

“Nope,” he says, backing off and giving the trap one last look-over. He has to hand it to the girl, she knew what she was doing.

“You’re serious?”

“Entirely,” he says. “It doesn’t take much to attract them. Back in the eighties, they used to hang around streetlamps and windows all the time. It’s a wonder they’re still considered a cryptid considering how blatantly out in the open they—”

He hears the tell-tale sound of fluttering insect wings, not too far off, but loud enough to make him pause. He glances in the direction and then down at his watch, the blip on the screen almost on top of them. Quickly, he motions to Wendy to hide and then does the same himself, crouching behind the nearest tree and peering around the side to watch.

It’s rather quiet for a few moments, the darkness starting to settle into the pines, the lit flashlight a lone beacon, just the sound of the pine needles whistling in the breeze and the far-off humming of the approaching cryptid. But that low hum gradually gets louder, turning to a white drone of hundreds of small wings beating in tandem.

A familiar dark shape emerges from the underbrush. Humanoid, but just barely. Ten-feet tall with two enormous wings sprouting from its back, two large yellow eyes reflecting the scattered light of the flashlight in the clearing. Their entire shape feels blurred at the edges, like someone drew a line of charcoal and smudged it, the hundreds of moths that make up their body shifting and moving amongst each other in a din of small beating wings.

The Mothman.

Ford hates to admit that the thought still sends an excited shiver up his spine.

They emerge into the clearing, glancing around and taking an immediate interest in the flashlight lying on the ground. They approach it slowly, cautiously, glancing around as if waiting for the ambush, eventually making it onto the net before moving to bend down to pick up the flashlight.

They stop.

Ford holds his breath.

“Stanford Pines,” a voice says, the sound a high whine broken up and mixed with soft clicking. The Mothman stands back upright, snapping its eyes right in his direction. Immediately, Ford’s mind starts swirling with potential fallback options to try to turn this in their favor. “Surprised you’re still alive after last week. Really think we’re stupid enough to fall for—”

“Suck mothballs, lamp licker!” Wendy screams from across the clearing, the Mothman whipping around just as a projectile of some sort (is that an axe?) flies out of the underbrush and hits the trap’s trigger dead-on, sending the net shooting upwards and capturing almost all of the moths above it. A shrill screech fills the air from the now-dangling mass of moths, but Ford is too busy gaping at the cashier girl as she emerges from her hiding spot.

“Nice shot, Wendy!” he beams, shaking off the shock and coming out to join her on either side of the now-enraged Mothman. She shrugs, retrieving the axe from off the ground and sliding it back into her belt loop behind her back.

“No biggie. My dad enters me into the annual axe-throwing competition every year. I’ve won the last 5 in a row.” Ford, having not known anything about this girl before today, is rather stunned. He certainly was not expecting that from the teen, let alone the nonchalance over it. “But anywho,” she says, turning her attention to the writhing mass in front of them. “About that money…”

~ ~ ~

About two hours after they left, Ford and Wendy arrive back at the Mystery Shack, Ford heading to the back of the house to find Stan and the kids, Wendy collecting her things and heading back out to go home, a crisp one-hundred dollar bill tucked into her pocket.

[orangeoctopi7]

Walking Like a One-Man Army

I guess this chapter is kinda for @soosly ? It does prominently feature Soos being a BA.

: Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 :

The three of them piled into Soos’s truck. Ford elected to slide into the back of the cab with Mabel rather than sit shotgun. He needed to tell his niece what Debbs had decided.

“Mabel, I, uh…” He said slowly, “I spoke with your mother earlier this morning…”

The colorful girl tensed and pulled the collar of her sweater up a bit. Had all their ill-fated conversations over the last couple of days left her apprehensive to even speak with him?

“...I told her I wanted to keep Dipper on as my apprentice, and that you were welcome to stay here as well. Unfortunately, she, uh, declined to grant her permission.” 

“Oh!” Mabel smiled with relief, letting her collar drop. “That’s ok! Me and Dipper already talked about it and decided not to stay here anyway, so everything works out!”

Ford’s heart sank. So Stan was wrong. The children had indeed come to realize the old researcher was a toxic influence in their lives. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, to focus on his intellect and control his emotions, but controlling anguish was a lot harder than controlling fear. He at least was able to keep his expression neutral as he found something else to distract him: nitpicking grammar.

“Dipper and I.” He corrected her mechanically. “In any case, we need to come up with a plan to confront Bill and find Fiddleford.”

“He’s got this little shelter next to one of the telephone poles.” Soos commented from the driver’s seat. “It’s actually surprisingly nice for something in the middle of the dump made completely out of scrap material.”

“If Bill’s expecting us, that’s probably where he’ll be.” Ford said gravely. “I imagine he’ll keep Fiddleford close-by, to keep a close eye on his bargaining chip. We’ll need a distraction. Bill may be an all-seeing eye, but even he has trouble splitting his attention.” 

“Oooh, I’m super amazing at being a distraction!” Mabel piped up.

“I don’t doubt that.” Ford nodded, fondness somehow managing to slip past all the other emotions he was repressing. “But I promised your brother and Stan that I’d keep you safe, so I need you to stay close to me. Soos, do you think you could be a good distraction?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Soos said nonchalantly. “Mr. Pines asks me to be the distraction all the time! When the taxman comes, or the safety inspector, or the police….”

“Of course he does.” Ford muttered. “What I need you to do is keep Bill’s attention while Mabel and I look for Fiddleford and get him to safety. Bill should still be possessing that time travel agent, so while he won’t be able to access any of the reality-warping powers he wields in the mindscape, he will have access to any weapon from Gravity Falls’ history or future. You’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Well, they did teach me how to disarm an opponent with a gun or knife in my karate class, so I’ll probably be ok.”

* * *

It was quieter that Mabel was used to when they reached the dump. Normally, you could hear the sound of power tools and banjo strings even from the dump’s entrance, but not today. Today was deceptively peaceful.

The peace was broken by an eerie, high-pitched laugh. It was coming from the center of the dump, but as they looked around frantically, they couldn’t see their enemy anywhere. Ford fired his blaster, obliterating a board in the fence with a one-eyed triangle carved into it. 

“Well, he knows we’re here.” He said gravely. 

“What should we do?” Mabel asked.

“Proceed with the plan. Soos, you head straight for the center of the dump, we’ll go around the long way. Mabel, do you think you’ll be able to lead me to Fiddleford’s shelter if we don’t take a direct route?”

Mabel nodded with determination, even though she was only about 50% sure she’d be able to find the place, considering she’d only been there once. 

They split up, Mabel leading Ford towards the east wall of the dump. She was pretty sure if she climbed up the pile of wrecked cars there, she’d be able to look out over the dump and figure out a way to get to McGucket’s shelter, and maybe even see where Bill was at.

While running through the dump, they heard the occasional scurry of a racoon or possum through the trash. It was clear that Ford’s already twitchy nerves were on high alert, and he leveled his blaster at every single one. Luckily, he hadn’t been startled enough to fire it yet, which was good because they were trying to sneak around while Soos was distracting Bill.

The stack of cars was within sight when they noticed more scurrying around the corner. Only unlike all the other scurries they’d heard, it seemed to be running towards them instead of away from them. Ford pointed his blaster yet again, and pulled Mabel behind him.

“PEEKABOO!” Blendin’s face wearing a contorted grin popped out from around the corner. “WOW, SIXER, YOU REALLY EXPECTED ME TO TAKE THE BAIT AND GO AFTER QUESTION MARK? PPPPFT, PLEASE! HE’S NOWHERE NEAR AS FUN TO MESS WITH AS YOU! OR SHOOTING STAR, FOR THAT MATTER.” 

Bill took a few menacing steps towards them and leaned down so he was closer to Mabel’s eye-level. “WHADDAYA SAY KID? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE A NEVER-ENDING PARTY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? I’LL MAKE SURE ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS ARE THERE, AND YOU’LL NEVER HAVE TO GO TO HIGHSCHOOL! IN FACT, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS GIVE ME THAT RIFT!”

“Don’t you dare speak to her.” Ford growled. 

“You’re a butt-brain!” Mabel shouted, flinging out the worst insult she could think of.

Bill shrugged Blendin’s shoulders smugly. “OH WELL. I WAS GONNA LET YOU HAVE YOUR OWN PERSONAL PARADISE BUBBLE FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS, BUT IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA COOPERATE WITH ME, I GUESS YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO SUFFER UNIMAGINABLE PAIN AND DESTRUCTION LIKE THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE DIMENSION.” He pulled out a large rusty pipe and hefted it threateningly in his hands. “SO, WHERE’S THAT RIFT, IQ?”

“You really think I was stupid enough to bring it here with me?” Ford scoffed.

“WELL, I MEAN, YOU WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO TRUST ME.” Bill counted on his fingers. “AND TO THINK YOUR BROTHER WOULD ACTUALLY LISTEN TO YOU WHEN YOU CALLED FOR HELP. AND TO USE TOO MUCH GLUE WHEN YOU TRIED TO SEAL THE RIFT. SO YEAH. I DO THINK YOU’RE THAT STUPID.”

“Well I’m not.”

“OH, LEMME GUESS. YOU LEFT IT WITH PINETREE?”

“And with Grukle Stan!” Mabel added defiantly.

Bill snorted. “YEAH, ‘CUZ I’M REAL SCARED OF HIM!”

The possessed time traveler didn’t even get a derisive chuckle out before Soos barreled into him with a flying kick.

“Hey dude, I need you to pay attention to me for the next, I dunno, five to ten minutes?” He looked over at Ford. “D’you think that’s enough time?”

Ford just nodded mutely, unsure of how else to react to the handyman’s sudden entrance.

Bill picked his possessed body up off the ground. “YOU WANT ME TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOU, QUESTION MARK? HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS ATTENTION?” He pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash, only to reappear a second later with a large carpenter’s hammer in his hand. He threw it at Soos, who dodged it with skills honed from ten years of karate sparring.

As Bill continued to pursue Soos, pulling out weapons from random time periods as he went, Ford pulled Mabel away, back towards the center of the dump. This was just the distraction they needed, it just happened in a different order than they’d been expecting. 

So, her original plan to look for McGucket’s shelter from the top of a trash mountain wasn’t going to work now, but she could still find it, right? She remembered that a telephone pole had been one of the main support beams in the little hut, so she just needed to follow the telephone lines! Spotting one above, she rushed ahead, now pulling Ford instead of the other way around.

Sure enough, they came upon McGucket’s hovel nearby. Too nearby. They could still hear Soos doing his best to lead Bill on a wild goose-chase on the opposite side of a pile of discarded furniture and tires. But they could also hear a low, animal-like moan from inside the shelter. The two of them rushed across the clearing, hoping to reach the fox skin that acted as a door before Bill rounded the trash pile.

Before they could reach it, two things happened.

First of all, a loud, up-beat pop song started blaring out of Mabel’s pocket. 

“Girl, oh girl, you got it all, you know.”

“But girl, oh girl, you don’t got me, no!”

Mabel slapped her forehead and pulled out her phone, trying to silence it. “Ugh, Pacifica! Bad timing!”

Second, Bill blew away the trash pile with a shot from a cannon, sending chunks of broken wood and plastic everywhere and clearing a path between him and the shelter.

“THERE YOU ARE!”

Mabel just barely managed to hold onto her phone as Ford grabbed her by the arm and practically threw her into the door. He hurtled in after her, but no second shot came. Instead, they heard a loud, frustrated groan.

“UUUGH, WHY DO YOU HUMANS MAKE WEAPONS THAT ARE SUCH A WASTE OF TIME? WHO THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE TO REPACK THE GUNPOWDER AND ROLL IN ANOTHER BALL EVERY TIME YOU WANT TO SHOOT SOMETHING?”

“Well, it’s not that they thought it was a good idea, it’s just that they hadn’t developed the technology--” Ford started to explain when Mabel reached up and covered his mouth. He really couldn’t help himself sometimes, could he?

That same moan they’d heard before came again, louder, from under a pile of newspapers. Many of them had frantic calculations scribbled all over them. Ford reached down and brushed them aside, revealing a shivering, hyperventilating McGucket.

Mabel had seen McGucket be pretty crazy this summer. He’d jigged on an unplugged videogame for a week, ate his way out of a dinosaur, and claimed he preferred to walk backwards when she gave him a makeover. But she’d never seen him look so terrified and broken. His eyes were wide and unfocused, like he didn’t even notice they were there, and his breaths were coming in short, sharp whines. It was especially sad compared to the last time she’d seen him, when his mind really seemed like it was beginning to clear.

Ford looked down on his friend, absolutely devastated. If McGucket was looking bad compared to the last time Mabel had seen him, she could only imagine how he looked compared to the last time Ford saw him. 

“Y’KNOW WHAT, I’M JUST GONNA GO BACK AND GET ANOTHER ONE THAT’S ALREADY LOADED.” They heard Bill whine, followed by the zap of the time tape being used.

McGucket moaned again at the sound of Bill’s voice, shutting his eyes tightly and clutching his head. That seemed to snap Ford out of his shock, and he reached down and scooped the old inventor into his arms.

“Let’s get out of here.” He told Mabel.

Just as they ran out the door, Bill reappeared in front of them with another cannon.

“UH-UH-UH! FOUR-EYES ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT, SIXER!”

“Just keep running!” Ford shouted to Mabel. They picked up the pace and just barely got out of the way in time to avoid the cannonball that ripped through McGucket’s shelter.

“Dudes, over here!” Soos called to them, where he was trying to finish reloading the other cannon Bill had abandoned after less than a minute of trying. “We can fight cannon with cannon!”

“There’s no time!” Ford barked. “We need to either get out of here or find cover!”

“Cover, huh?” Soos said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, until an idea popped into his head. “Oh! You’ve seen that old timey video of the dude who takes a cannonball to the stomach and it just bounces off of him? I’ve always wanted to try that!”

Ford and Mabel stared at him for a beat, dumbstruck.

“I say follow your dreams, Soos!” Mabel encouraged him.

“Yes, if you believe you’re capable, I see no reason not to give it a shot.” Ford agreed.

When Bill reappeared with another cannon, Soos stood squarely in front of it while Ford and Mabel made a run for the truck.

“OH, THIS OUGHTA BE GOOD!” Bill smirked as he fired.

Soos braced himself just as the cannonball collided with his stomach. While the iron ball did bounce off his gut and drop to the ground, Soos was also thrown back almost three feet. He landed on his back but the wind was already knocked out of him. As soon as he could move again, he rolled over and threw up.

“Ohhoho… dude…” the handyman muttered. “I knew that was probably gonna hurt, but it still hurt way worse than I was expecting. Ugh, I think I might’ve cracked a rib.”

No answer. Not even a mocking remark from Bill.

“Dudes?” He slowly got up to his feet and looked around. Ford and Mabel had run away, and Bill had chased after them. Oh well, at least Soos had bought them some time. He reached into his pocket to call his abuelita for a ride home, but alongside his phone, he felt another object. His truck keys. “Uh-oh.”

* * *

Despite Soos’s best efforts, Bill was still hot on their tail. Fiddleford squirmed weakly in Ford’s arms as they passed another mountain of garbage. His eyes seemed to briefly focus on Ford, but they looked far, far away.

“I’m jus’ barely gettin’ my mind back now, I don’t wanna lose it again...” The old inventor murmured feebly before resuming his catatonic state. It felt like someone had just stabbed Ford in the heart with an icy dagger, and he picked up the pace.

The sign above the dump’s exit soon came into view, but there were still several more piles of junk between here and there. As they fled, Mabel turned and fired her grappling hook at an old kitchen sink sticking half-way out the bottom of one of the larger junk piles behind them. The hook caught on the faucet and Mabel yanked back on the line hard, dislodging the kitchen sink and collapsing the garbage mountain in a landslide. 

“Let’s see Bill blast his way through that!” She cheered.

Ford knew it was too soon to relax. As long as Bill was possessing this time travel agent, he had access to any weapon in human history, or humankind’s future, for that matter. Although, come to think of it, why hadn’t Bill used a weapon from the future on them yet? Perhaps that would draw the attention of the Time Paradox Avoidment Enforcement Squadron?

“There’s the truck!” Mabel exclaimed, bringing Ford out of his speculations. They skidded to a stop as they finally reached the vehicle and Ford tried to open the door.

It was locked.

Soos still had the keys.

Ford swore under his breath as he searched for something to pry the door open with. Yes, he could break into the truck, and yes, he could hotwire it, but that all took time! Time they didn’t have!

He was expecting Bill to step out of the dump any second now, but he didn’t appear. Instead, what at first glance appeared to be a flock of ravens rose out of the nearby woods. At the same time, Fiddleford thrashed in his arms and began to yell incoherently. Stanford tried to lay him in the back of the truck gently, so he wouldn’t drop him. The old researcher’s blood ran cold. It sounded almost identical to the gibberish his friend had spouted immediately after the failed first portal test. 

As the mysterious flock drew near, Ford began searching for a rock, a golf club, anything he could use to break open the truck’s windows and get inside, all while keeping a close eye on the approaching swarm. As they came closer, he could see they weren’t birds, they were bats! But why would a swarm of bats take flight in the middle of the day? They were close enough to start blocking out the sun when Ford realized they weren’t bats. They were Eye-bats!

He pulled out his blaster and started firing into the swarm. “Mabel, find something to break into the truck with!”

She nodded and took a step back towards the dump, when Bill finally made his leisurely way to the exit. Ford couldn’t help but notice that Fiddleford’s cries stopped almost as soon as the possessed time traveler appeared.

“YOU FLESH-SACKS AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE!” Bill crowed. “NOT UNTIL I GET THAT RIFT! AFTER THAT, I HONESTLY COULDN’T CARE LESS.”

Just as Bill took another menacing step towards Mabel, Soos appeared, sledding down a trash mountain on a car door. He crashed into Bill and kept going until colliding into the side of his truck.

“Uh… I got the keys.” The handyman said in a daze, holding them up triumphantly.

Ford grabbed the keys and helped him up and into the shotgun seat. “I think I’d better drive.”

“Thanks dude, I appreciate it.” Soos said with a chuckle, then clutched his stomach. “Ooof, ugh, that’s… that’s definitely bruised.”

The truck zoomed away just as Bill rushed for the truck bed where Fiddleford was still laying. The swarm of Eye-bats descended on them, and Ford rolled down his window, steering with one hand and firing his blaster into the flock with the other. He knew it wasn’t exactly the safest position for his friend to be in, nearly unconscious in the bed of a speeding, reckless pickup truck, but he couldn’t exactly pull over and buckle him in next to Mabel. Not if they didn’t want to be overtaken by Eye-bats. The old researcher just had to hope that his old friend would be able to hold out until they reached the shield spell.

* * *

Stan was just sitting and watching tv like this was a perfectly normal day. Dipper wondered how he could possibly do it, just push all the danger and worry aside and vegg out like that. Sure, Stan wasn’t really invested in McGucket’s safety, but he had to care what might happen to Mabel, Ford, and Soos, right? 

Of course, Dipper had known Stan long enough that he knew the old conman tended to express his emotions in a weird way. He teased and noogied to show affection, loaded on chores instead of compliments, and lied to the people he loved to try and keep them safe. Not to mention he’d spent the last thirty years trying to bring his lost brother home with an incredibly dangerous machine, while also pretending everything was normal. Maybe Stan was just really good at ignoring danger and worry by this point. And wow, that was a depressing thought. 

Dipper kept vigilant watch out the front window, searching for any suspicious activity while also waiting anxiously for the return of Soos’s truck. He’d been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It rang two more times, and Stan made no move to answer it. Dipper was unwilling to leave his post himself, but Stan was just watching old reruns of Baby Fights!

“Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper called out after the fourth ring. Maybe he’d turned down his hearing aide?

“I hear it kid.” Stan grunted.

“Well, aren’t you going to get it!?”

“It’s probably just that triangular jerk, tryin’ to distract us. And if not, whoever it is can just leave a message.”

“But what if it’s Mabel or Soos?”

Dipper was distracted from his complaining when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A car was coming down the dirt road towards the Mystery Shack. The boy seriously doubted the rescue mission would be back already.

Stan got up with a grunt from his chair to see what had caught Dipper’s attention. “There, see? What’d I tell ya? Wouldn’t’ve noticed whoever this yahoo is if you’d been trying to listen in on me while I was on the phone. When you know somebody’s after ya, you gotta keep distractions to a minimum.”

“You were just watching TV!” the boy gestured back to the flickering CRT.

“Eh, it’s a rerun, I’m not really payin’ attention to it, just need something to calm my nerves.”

The mystery car drove out of the trees. It wasn’t a car at all, it was a limo. One Dipper recognized from the Northwest’s fleet.

“Well, this ain’t gonna be good.” Stan grimace.

“M-maybe it’s just Pacifica coming to ask for help again?” The boy said hopefully, although his heart wasn’t really in it.

Sure enough, the Northwest stepping out of the limo was Preston. He looked around like everything about the Shack was a personal insult to him before stepping up to the door and knocking with a gloved hand.

Stan grabbed the taxidermied fake dodo sitting on a small table in the corner and reached under its wing, pulling out a small handgun, which he held behind his back as he opened the door. Dipper wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the fact that his uncle was answering the door with a loaded gun in his hand. Sure, they were all in danger from Bill at the moment, but he really didn’t want Stan to go to jail for shooting one of the most important people in Gravity Falls, even if Preston probably deserved it.

“Whaddya want?” Stan asked gruffly.

Preston’s small, forced smile seemed painful. “Aheh, yes, well, I suppose I’ll get right to the point then. I’m here to purchase your… I suppose this qualifies as a business on some level? My opening offer is two million dollars for the building and the land it occupies.”

“Hah! Yeah, right!” Stan barked. “I wouldn’t sell this place to a scumbag like you for twenty million!”

“Well, how about fifty million?” Preston asked coolly.

Stan froze, his eyes wide. He stared the billionaire down, trying to decide if he was bluffing. It sure didn’t seem like a bluff to Dipper. The boy knew the Northwests threw that kind of money around like it was nothing, because to them, it was.

“Not for a hundred million.” Stan said, although it was less of a defiant denial and more of a fishing offer, trying to gauge how high Preston was willing to go.

“How about a hundred and fifty million?” Preston offered.

“Higher.” Stan shook his head.

“Grunkle Stan!?” Dipper cried indignantly.

“Ah-ah!” Stan pushed him back without even turning to look. “Not now kid, the grownups are talking.”

“Two hundred million?” Preston asked, his cool smile starting to slip.

Stan shook his head. “Uh-uh. Higher.”

“Three hundred million?” Mr. Northwest ventured again through clenched teeth.

“Higher!”

“F-five hundred million?” 

“I’m thinking twice that much.”

“Seriously!?” Preston finally exploded. “You want a billion dollars for this--this hovel!?”

“Y’know what, you’re right.” Stan shook his head. “I’m not askin’ enough. Two billion!”

The Northwest patriarch looked like he very much wanted to strangle Stan.

“C’mon Northwest, I know you’re good for it!” Stan smirked.

“Absolutely not! Seven hundred and fifty million, and that’s my final offer!”

“Welp, my final offer’s still two billion, so you can either pony up or get off my porch.”

“....Fine.” Preston hissed, the veins in his forehead popping.

Stan stuck out his hand for Preston to shake, but as soon as the billionaire reached for it, the conman yanked it away.

“Psych!” Stan chortled. “Hah! I just wanted to see how far I could go before you chickened out! You couldn’t give me your whole dirty fortune for this place!”

It took Preston a moment to regain his composure. “I beg you to reconsider, Mr. Pines.” He said with a dangerous edge to his voice. “Take it from someone in the real estate business, property can lose value so quickly.”

“Yeah, the answer’s still no.” Stan said flatly. “Now get outta here. Don’t think I won’t call the cops!”

“I’m afraid you’ll find they’re busy at the moment. I just made a rather large donation so they’re holding a banquet. Even if you could pry them away from it, I doubt they’d be willing to arrest the man that just doubled their salary.”

“Oh, well, if you’re so sure the cops won’t be coming.” Stan pulled the gun out from behind his back.

Mr. Northwest finally backed off, although he shared a long glare with Stan before getting back into his limo. “This isn’t over, Pines!”

“Tell it to someone who cares!” Stan shouted after him.

Dipper looked up at his uncle with awe as he shut the door. “Grunkle Stan, that was awesome!”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you actually thought I was gonna take his offer.”

Dipper blushed and laughed sheepishly.

The old conman sighed as he sat back down in his recliner. “Eh, guess I can’t blame you. I was actually tempted for half a second. Then I remembered that guy’s a lying cheating crook, and he wasn’t gonna actually pay anything for this place. Still, two billion dollars, wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

“Grunkle Stan, no amount of money is worth the end of the world as we know it.” Dipper reminded him sharply.

“I know that!” Stan retorted, insulted. “I’m just sayin’, if I’d been able to trick him outta that much, heh, that would’ve been the con of a lifetime.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Dipper stammered, taking up his watch at the window again. “I shouldn’t doubt you. I’m just… I’m just really worried, y’know. Bill’s using more and more people to try and get at the rift. The Northwests are the most powerful people in town. You got him to leave for now, but he’s probably gonna hire thugs or something.”

“I know you’re worried, kid.” Stan said sadly. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about all this junk, but at the very least, you don’t gotta worry about this. I’ve had to hole up against hired thugs in this Shack before. ‘Course, this time I’m not gonna be able to fake my death to get ‘em to give up and go home.”

Dipper grimaced. This conversation wasn’t really reassuring him. 

Stan sighed again. “Look, bud, I know Bill’s got a lot of people in his pocket, but time’s on our side, right? Eventually, that glue you found is gonna set, and then what’s he gonna do? Besides, you and your sister are going home next weekend anyway, and then you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Dipper turned to look back at his uncle. “I’ll still worry about you. And Ford. And everyone else left here in Gravity Falls.”

Stan felt his heart swell when he realized how much the boy cared about him. It didn’t matter if he was safe, if his family was still in danger. Stan was all too familiar with that feeling, and he didn’t like the thought of this twelve-year-old kid being burdened with it.

“Well then, we’re just gonna have to figure something out then, aren’t we?”

[signor-signor]

Revised S3 Premiere Summary Prediction

A little while ago, I came up with a better trio of new characters who I think would play the role as the threat of S3 even better. Not only did I replace the characters I mentioned in my old summary, but I retained some of the details, replaced a few parts, and expanded the summary even more just to make it more interesting.

Anyway, here’s the updated summary of how I think the Season 3 premiere would go...

The story opens up on Dominator at the edge of the recovering galaxy, still walking in her orbble through space and griping about her defeat. When she mentions "that fuzzy banjo guy and his zbornak friend," she pulls out her phone and looks at the picture she took in The Flower, reminding herself of how much fun she had tormenting them. She gets hungry again, looks around, and finds the mysterious door leading to the void. Unbeknownst to her, a silhouetted figure steps out of a newly crashed space pod that flashes green lightning.

Meanwhile on the Skullship, Lord Hater is flipping through various TV channels, all of which talk about him saving the galaxy and defeating Dominator. Commander Peepers comes in to inform him that it's time to claim the galaxy as their own. Hater, however, points out that everyone sees him more as a hero than a villain and is afraid Wander will get in the way like he always does. Peepers tells him there are still a lot of refugees stuck on the formerly secret planet and that Wander will spend more time helping them get back to their home planets while Hater conquers the majority of the galaxy, putting his mind at ease and motivating him to get moving.

Two mysterious figures watch Hater and Peepers on the screen on the head of their leader. The leader of the trio shifts to a view of Wander, Sylvia, and what appears to be the figure from earlier. The two figures fret about how this might affect the future, but the leader says to let it be and insist they all pay a quick visit with Peepers, who is essentially responsible for making Hater who he is.

Back on the formerly secret planet, the galaxy inhabitants are doing a roll call when Wander and Sylvia, having explored the new galaxy, return. Everyone gathers around and sees that the duo have brought someone from out of the galaxy - a space ape.

The Stranger

Everyone becomes curious as to where the space ape came from, so Wander explains to them that after he and Sylvia evaded the Skullship and explored the entirety of the reborn galaxy, he spotted the ape on a lone asteroid. He thought he needed help because "all critters deserve some hospitality and a chance to regain their mentality." Sylvia was a little hesitant at first, but when she recalled the time she got into a life of crime after leaving her family, she accepted. They let the ape climb into the orbble with them before returning to the planet. When the roll call resumes, the ape goes off to look for food and Wander follows suit.

Meanwhile, Peepers gives Hater and the Watchdogs a presentation of the unoccupied planets and how they can conquer them before Wander takes all of the refugees home. When he's ready to answer questions, Barry asks him, "What if Wander gets on one planet 5 seconds before we do?" Peepers tells him that orbble juice is Wander's only means of transportation and that they'll have conquered 5 planets before he even reaches one. Several other Watchdogs ask questions involving villains who couldn't stand up to Dominator and are likely to return and get in Hater's way, dumbfounding Peepers. When Hater briefly fades and reappears, he starts to question his existence, so he and Peepers excuse themselves and walk off to their rooms. The three mysterious figures, having taken note of what's happening with Hater and Peepers, arrive at the Skullship and find a way inside.

(Commercial break)

Back on the ex-secret planet, everyone in the galaxy is safe and accounted for. Wander, having returned from finding food for the space ape and finding a spot where the ape had to “take care of a little business,” is eager to take everyone back to their home planets. Although he's unsure of where the ape can go, he promises he'll find the perfect place for him. Unfortunately, there isn't enough orbble juice to accommodate everyone, and the ships owned by Starbella, Ripov, and Major Threat aren't enough to transport everyone home without making more than one trip. Cobworth, the hooded medieval being who speaks for his people, tells Wander about their crashed vessel and how it could take flight again if they "give it a little more propulsion with any kind of source capable of mobility." This gives Wander an idea. In a montage, with help from everyone, including the space ape, whom Wander has named "Hubert" on account of the "H" on either side of his helmet, the ship gets a new makeover and is renamed "The Star Nomad."

Meanwhile on the Skullship, Peepers, who has no specific clue about how to proceed with the galactic conquest, is greeted by the three figures: The Timely Trio. The brainy, lady-like figure is Histress (the past seer), the short, brawny figure is Tuma (the future seer), and the charismatic leader is Nowser (the present controller). Nowser informs Peepers that they were alerted when a recent time loop was closed and that Hater is right about Wander getting in the way. He even shows him that he and Sylvia have a new friend and how that will affect the Watchdogs' future. The Trio explain to Peepers how they could help him reach his goal of conquering the planets. Nowser gives a demonstration by snapping his fingers, causing the Schmartians' ships to freeze just as they're about to land on a nearby planet. Histress uses her power to move the Schmartians in reverse and Tuma uses his power to quickly move the Skullship to the planet so Hater can claim it as part of the Hater Empire. Peepers is instantly impressed by the Trio's powers and agress to let them tag along.

Back on the ex-secret planet, the orbble juice has been added to the Star Nomad's bubble wand masts and everyone climbs aboard, ready for take off. Wander stands in the lower crow's nest while Sylvia stands at the helm. As soon as the ship leaves the planet, Wander breaks into a song: "Let's Go Soarin' and Explorin'." As soon as Wander finishes his song, "Hubert" starts to get in everyone's business.

(Commercial break)

Having conquered another planet, Peepers asks Nowser to show him where Wander and Sylvia are right now. When he sees the Star Nomad on screen, he rushes to Hater to tell him about the new means of transportation. Hater looks outside and sees the ship, which is enough to anger him and compel him to go even faster to conquer the planets. The Timely Trio decide to visit Wander on the Star Nomad and leave the Skullship.

"Hubert" is pulling on Something the So-and-So's kettle helmet as the passengers express their concerns and complaints about the ape. Wander reiterates that "all critters deserve some hospitality and a chance to regain their mentality," and when that doesn't calm down everyone, Sylvia locks the wheel into place with her bridle and reins and captures "Hubert," who has the kettle helmet, which Something promptly takes back. Sylvia explains to everyone how she herself used to do misdeeds during her partnership with Ryder, and when they got separated, she stayed on the bad path until she found Wander, who was able to look for the good in her and make her good again. Wander adds that if Sylvia, Hater, and many other folks can do good under positive influence, so can "Hubert."

Just then, the Timely Trio appear on the Star Nomad. Without affecting Wander, Histress reverses the time to the point before Sylvia jumps down to snatch "Hubert." Wander finds himself in the same situation where everyone is complaining about the ape. Confused, he asks himself what's going on, and Nowser freezes time (also without affecting Wander) and explains to him that he, Histress, and Tuma are timekeepers of the universe and tell him that "Hubert" must be taken back where he belongs. Since they're more knowledgeable about all creatures in the whole universe than everyone else, they insist on taking the ape, but Wander declines. Two reasons he refuses to let the Trio take the ape is that he and Sylvia found him first and that he promised that he himself would find him the perfect place. Subdued by Wander's logic, Nowser says they'll let him and everyone else be for now but tells him he hasn’t seen the last of the Trio. Then, without affecting Wander, Tuma moves time forward to the point where Sylvia has just told her story. Wander, somewhat flabbergasted by the Trio's powers, shrugs off what just happened and repeats his sentence about "Hubert" doing good under positive influence. "Hubert" starts taking a liking to everyone, including Wander, who tells him that this is the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

Hater, having just claimed 20 planets, decides to take a break. He comments to Peepers that Wander has been taking quite a while to reach even one planet and that the other villains didn't dare to get in the way. He even asks him how it could be so and if he knew anything about it. Peepers thinks for a few seconds and responds, "No, sir, not even a little.” Hater briefly fades and reappears again, which confuses him once again. In his mind, Peepers recalls seeing the creature in a space suit that reminds him of someone; he doesn’t have the heart to tell him who.

Back in the void, Dominator has gotten overly obsessive with imagining everything out of thin air. In the process, however, she realizes her evil thoughts are too much for her. Dominator has an epiphany that without someone's proper guidance, she'll have a mental breakdown, concluding that Wander was right about her loneliness. Right when she wishes to get out of the void, a mysterious but familiar figure appears and offers her a helping hand.

Wow, considering how much effort I put into making this story, I feel I deserve the reward of watching the S3 pitch. I mean, even though I seemingly did a fine job finding a role for the new characters, I’m not sure if I’m even close to what @crackmccraigen envisioned. Regardless of what the case may be, I did the thing. I did it because we were given a decent number of hints about S3. I did it because the people who worked on the S3 pitch still haven’t told us more about it. I did it because the higher-ups continue to treat the show like rubbish. I did it because so many people forget that the Save WOY campaign exists. I did it because I have determination.

Find your determination and start making speculations based on the hints. Be strong. Be motivated. Be the voice that fans, non-fans, and the higher-ups can hear, and maybe someday, we’ll see how the S3 premiere really plays out.

[realm-sweet-realm]

A New Beginning

This is a shipping one-off I did for creepyalienghost. After this, I’m doing a request for loverofallarts12, and then I’m moving on to my BATDR story. The pairing of this story is Sammy x Nathan.

---

“What do you mean, you said ‘no’?!” Sammy all but yelled at Henry, drawing the attention of the others in the breakroom.

Henry, who was used to Sammy’s lack of volume control, just sighed. It had been a difficult choice, and he really didn’t want to be badgered about it. “I didn’t think I could. I mean, moving halfway across the country and leaving behind everyone I know is just... a lot. And what if I do make the sacrifice, and Mr. Arch turns out to be just as bad, or worse? I’ll admit it- I’m a coward. I prefer the devil I know.”

Wally, who had been sitting with them, served Sammy a harsh look. “aren’t you the one always sayin’ that this studio is fine, and anyone who says otherwise should just get out of the kitchen or somethin’?”

Sammy prickled. “Well- yes! But think of it this way- if another kitchen- one which had reasonable fire safety- opened up, then wouldn’t you choose to cook in it? There’s shutting up and accepting hardship, and then there’s failing to avoid it. Henry, is Mr. Arch still in town?”

“Yes.”

“And you have his number, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, would you mind encouraging him to come back to the studio one last time, to see our award-winning music department?”

“Oh, Joey actually gave him a tour of the whole place. You were in your office. Joey knocked on your door when he was about to show him the music department, but you snapped at him that you were busy, so he left you be.”

Sammy turned pink. “Oh. Well, would you put in a word for me anyhow, Henry? Sorry for reacting badly, there. I think your dedication is admirable, honestly. But I feel like I deserve better than this studio.”

“I’ll call him. Not sure he’ll listen, though.”

“Thank you. I owe you, Henry.”

That night, Henry called him with the news that Nathan had agreed to come back to see their music department in action. The next day, Sammy put on the best clothes he could without seeming overdressed for a day at work. He moved up a scheduled recording session for one of the better songs he had on queue to eleven in the morning, and asked Wally to give the music department a thorough cleaning beforehand (Though Sammy poked his nose in himself to make sure it was to his standards).

Soon, the band was in full swing, with Sammy conducting it all. Even though it was a rather small music department, playing a cartoon song that certainly wasn’t to Sammy’s tastes, Sammy couldn’t help but get lost in his work. Conducting took concentration, and it was rather enjoyable. His focus on the flow of the music drowned out the sound of a door opening. Once the song had been recorded and the noise dulled down, Sammy heard a slow clap, and turned to face it.

The man standing at the doorway to the music department was portly, very expensively and stylishly dressed, and had his red hair elegantly slicked back. Sammy had never seen Mr. Arch before, but he was fairly certain that it was him.

Mr. Arch beckoned Sammy over, and he came. “So, an acquaintance told me that you were the true talent of this music department, and that you might be looking for a new place to work,” Nathan said.

“Well, I’m doing quite well here, but I’m always open to new opportunities,” Sammy replied. No need to look desperate.

Mr. Arch smiled at Sammy, and Sammy got the sense that Nathan didn’t believe him for a second. “Alright. Well, why don’t you meet me at seven tonight at Languid Lounge for a drink. Then we can discuss opportunities.”

“Sounds wonderful.” 

Sammy wasn’t sure what, but something about the man made his heart flutter. Made him have to stop and stare, if he could get away with it.

A while after, Sammy wandered into the break room, a dreamy look on his face. “It went well, I take it?” Henry said, a teasing smile on his face.

“Naturally.”

Wally whispered something into Henry’s ear. Whatever it was, it made him laugh. Sammy decided to let it go. Which was stupid. After all, this was only a business meeting- Mr. Arch had said it was about opportunity, after all. “Did he give you his first name, Henry? Mr. Arch, I mean?”

“Yes. Nathan.”

“Nathan Arch.” He said, as though he was savouring the sound of it. “Alright.”

The date itself went very well. It started out all business- Nathan asking Sammy about his credentials. Sammy was rather embarrassed to say that he didn’t have any- no awards that Joey hadn’t snatched from him or even a finished music degree, since he’d been convinced to drop out to join the studio. Sammy could see Nathan’s face drop, and he was sure it was over for him.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Nathan said. “But, what I’m suggesting is you moving to California and taking a job in an established studio with established standards. You’d be an idiot to come into that position just to get fired from it- and you will if you can’t take the heat. So, I’ll give you a chance anyhow. What do you say, Sammy? Think you can take it?”

Sammy locked eyes with him. “Yes, sir. I can take the heat.”

“Good. Now tell me, what instruments do you play?”

“Many. Banjo, piano, guitar, trumpet, clarinet-”

“Clarinet. That will do. I have a vacancy for a clarinet player. And I’ll keep in mind that you have experience in management, next time a music director position opens up. Assuming you do well, that it.”

“Thank you. If I can ask, why are you doing this? Coming to Joey Drew Studios to look for talent, I mean.”

Nathan sighed. “Between you and me, Sammy? I knew Joey as a child. He was always the type to take advantage of people and take credit for everything. It still didn’t get him all that far- but he wanted to fool me into thinking otherwise. And now that we’re adults, he keeps sending me these letters, full of blatant lies about how well he’s doing, and begging me to come visit his “studio.” And, well, I already had a business meeting in New York, so I thought, why not? And when I got there, it was so clearly a poorly managed wreck of a place filled with all these tired, angry people, and I wanted to show him just how dependent he is on the people around him. So, I decided to hire his best talent.”

Sammy was delighted. Finally, someone who understood his struggles with Joey. And who realized how important he was to the studio. And to think, he was not only getting away from Joey but actively taking revenge on him. “You have no idea what a dream this is for me.”

“You don’t like Joey either, do you?”

“No.”

“Want to spend the night hearing stories about the two of us growing up? He humiliates himself in most of them.”

Sammy chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

And so they did. And afterwards they talked about art, which turned into talking about their life stories. They got along very well. Sammy took keen interest in Nathan’s upper-crust lifestyle. “Well, you’re very well-spoken, considering your background,” Nathan said to Sammy.

“Hey, now. I was middle-class, not dirt poor.”

“Right. Well, tonight was fun. More fun than I expected. Want to come back to my hotel room with me? And, maybe since you’re quitting Joey Drew Studios anyhow, you’d like to call in sick and join me to see the sights of the city tomorrow?”

“I’d love to,” Sammy said. And that’s what they did.

Within a few weeks, Sammy was on a plane to California. He and Nathan had continued to correspond over letters. Nathan had admitted to Sammy that he had only really wanted a one-night stand out of him at the time, but since they had spent so long apart, Nathan had grown eager to see him again. Nathan had not asked if Sammy felt the same- it seemed safe for him to assume. Sammy replied that he, too, was anxious to see him again.

Who knew? This could be the start of something beautiful.

[doof-doofblog]

"Hello, Sis!"

Tuesday 6th April 2021

Hello again everyone! Wow! Feels like it's been a while since I last posted, I had a very busy week last week and again this week being back at work! I'm sure you must all be happy regarding the lockdown easing ever so slowly! I've come to the realisation that now I'm back to the day job, my posts will have to be done in the evenings, so I apologise if some of them seem late from now on. I'm planning on possibly doing another blog post tomorrow and then a double on Thursday in an attempt to catch up! I know the majority of you have already seen last week's episodes, it seems I have a lot of catching up to do!

We know that things are supposed to be kicking off this week (commencing 12th April) due to the return of Nancy Carter and the possible outcome of Kush's trial? I do have a fear Kush may be killed off and become another victim of Gray's but I am hoping that that doesn't happen! But before we can even begin to get excited about it, I need to post about the episodes that you guys have seen, but unfortunately I haven't.

So without further ado, I'm going to begin chatting about Isaac. It seems that Sheree seems to have overstepped the mark regarding both Lola and Patrick. I mean of course she is acting as the concerned Mum and Wife, but she needs to realise that there are some things she can't interfere with. Patrick has been offered the opportunity to go on blood thinners as an experiment for stroke victims - (at least that's the jist I got from it anyway!) - but Sheree is standing her ground claiming she doesn't want her husband to take part in it, purely because she fears for his health. Again, I can understand her concern but she can't stop Patrick from doing something he may want to do, considering he's already suffered two strokes whilst on the Square, he'll want to do his part in helping other victims.

But also where Lola is concerned, Sheree is still interfering in her son's relationship, for a brief moment it looked as if she had scared poor Lola off! Finally Isaac has sat his Mum down and told her straight to stop interfering with everybody's lives, even claiming that some times she can come across as controlling, even though her concern comes from a good place. For the first time in a long time, Isaac is feeling ready to enter another relationship, and he informs her Mum that with Lola, it feels right, he's slowly falling for her and there could be chance that she is feeling the same and the relationship could become serious?!

As Isaac instruct his Mum to kind of back off, Lola appears to have escaped to the Vic. Oh and once again Peter seems it's necessary to poke his nose into business that has nothing to do with him! Urgh, I really don't know about any one else, but for me personally - Peter is one of the worst characters the soap has right now, not in the sense of villainy, but just as a whole - his attitude towards his family, thinking he's the big I AM, urgh I don't like him, I really don't! Something has to change with this Peter I think, what about you guys?! Do you agree or do you think I'm being a little bit harsh? Either way he insults Lola and manages to persuade her to tell him what's on her mind. Believing he's a trusted friend, Lola confides in Peter, informing him about Isaac's diagnosis - something I fear she will possibly live to regret. But after her meeting with Peter, she eventually meets up with Isaac in the club and he informs her to not let his Mother scare her off, Isaac has full control over his illness right now and there would be no way for Lola to trigger any kind of breakdown. Let's hope things remain this way, right? But something is telling me that with all this positivity and reassuring that Isaac is fine and he has everything under control, something is telling me that eventually Isaac will have some form of breakdown and hopefully EastEnders will be able to have an opportunity to portray what having schizophrenia is really like!

--

Oooooo and what is this?! A possible new love interest for Bernie?! It's about bloody time!!! So, I'm sure the majority of you know that the Taylor family have taken in a new dog named Banjo after finding him on the streets and assuming he was a stray. Unfortunately, since the dog has been in their possession, some flyers advertising the lost dog have been spreading around the Square. Mitch was the first one to notice them, but not wanting to break his young daughter's heart, after their new family member has brought her so much happiness, he disposed of the flyer and never said a word about it to his family.

Now after this young girl seems to catch her eye on the Square, denying to Bailey that she's does not have a crush on her, she claims that she was just interested in the girl's flyer's. As Bailey goads her to ask for one, Bernadette comes to realise what the girl is advertising. (Also just zooming through the end credits of the episode now, there happen to be two female names of who this young lady could be - "Clara" or "Molly" - It'll be interesting if she was to show up again!) Taking the flyer back home, Bernie sadly informs her Mum and Mitch that a girl is out there looking for her dog, who they happen to have living with them, and his name isn't Banjo, it's Ziggy!

At first it seems the Taylor's are in a bit of a denial, it's understandable that they've grown to love the dog, but when Karen calls him by the name "Ziggy", the dog automatically responds. Bernie claims that they have to do the right thing and return the dog to it's rightful owner, however Mitch is looking deeply suspicious as Karen realises that he knew about the flyer's a couple of weeks ago and never said anything. He claims he didn't want to break Bailey's heart after all the loss she's had in recent months. It's then that Karen happens to agree with Mitch and states that the dog will be staying with them. They instruct Bernie to call the girl up and give her false story about the dog. Poor Bernadette isn't one for lying, so it's quite funny and yet sweet when she attempts to make up a story about the dog being lashed into a van to the unknown female. But it seems the girl can see right through Bernie and claims that she saw the way she was looking at her in the Square and offers to buy her a drink. Even though Bernie is already hiding the fact that she has her dog, could this be the start of new relationship for her?!

--

Ooh yea, so Ruby and Lily are still at loggerheads with each other! After devastatingly realising that Lily has cut her deceased Mum's wedding dress to pieces, Ruby is demanding that Lily leaves the house. Even though Lily isn't Ruby's biggest fan right now, it's clear that she had no idea that the dress belonged to her Mum, but it turns out she might've known that it was a special piece of clothing as Ruby states the dress was kept in a box at the back of her cupboard.

As Martin sends his daughter upstairs to get changed out of Ruby's clothes, he begins to think of some kind of punishment for his daughter, informing his wife that Lily is simply just missing her Mum. However it seems that Ruby's day goes from bad to worse, after discovering the state of her Mother's ripped dress, she informs her husband that she got a call from the clinic. It turns out the Ruby could most likely have endometriosis and that their fears about not having any more children is more likely. Devastatingly, endometriosis is severe and it could mean that she may not be able to have any more children in the future, sadly the one she lost might've been her only chance of being a Mum.

Understandably devastated for his wife, Martin realises he needs to do something to cheer her up. As Lily recovers from changing out of Ruby's clothes, Martin informs Ruby that Lily's punishment is to give her no access to any electronics for a week, and in an attempt to make things up to Ruby, Lily "apparently" has offered to give up her birthday money if it means there could be a way to salvage the ruined wedding dress. Ruby is visibly touched by the kind gesture, claiming that she didn't mean what she said about wanting her to move out, she claims that being her Stepmother - she'll always have a place to stay with them. Lily just simply smiles.

As Martin informs his wife of bubble bath waiting for her upstairs, Ruby thanks her Stepdaughter once again and leaves the room. As Martin follows, giving her the thumbs-up, it seems as if they think Lily will be okay and there'll be no more issues, but from the look on Lily's face, she really doesn't seem happy. Something was telling me that maybe she was being forced to apologise to Ruby? She clearly didn't mean her apology, is she still going to make Ruby's life a living nightmare?!

--

Oh Jean!!! Poor Jean!! I know I mentioned it in the last post, but I'm going to mention it again, I cannot applaud Gillian Wright enough for her performance as Jean! Jean clearly isn't coping with having her daughter back inside again while she's suffering a terminal illness, all she wants really is to be back with her daughter. As everyone gathers and sees the commotion, Sharon comes to realise that the only reason Jean is acting this way and holding herself up in the vehicle is because she wants to be with her daughter.

In an attempt to get Jean out of the van, Sharon pleads to the police to let her talk to her softly. As she approaches the fragile woman in the vehicle, she explains that even though she understands how Jean is feeling, the actions she's currently doing won't help her in any way. Even though Jean wants to be arrested in an attempt to be with her daughter, Sharon informs her that if she was to get arrested and put in prison, there is no guaranteed chance that she'd end up in the same prison as Stacey, in hindsight the only thing she'd get out of it is probably a criminal record and a hefty fine.

Realising her mistake and that possibly her actions may not get her close to her daughter, Jean agrees to switch off the engine and leave the vehicle. Now the next scene between Sharon and Jean I found funny but really touching also, I don't know why but I've loved the friendship that they've begun to build with these two characters. Two women I never thought would have each other's backs, but it seems that they are both struggling with things in their personal life, and I just LOVED how they both fell about laughing about the outcome of things, Sharon realising she's a single Mother with no money and how Jean has almost corrupted her new gym business. I found the scene really heart-warming as both the women agreed that sometimes shouting out to life itself is sometimes the only thing they have left?

I just loved it, it was as if they have a mutual understanding of each other and they found some common ground. Jean opened up to Sharon and Sharon opened up to Jean, even informing her about discovering a long lost brother that she's still unsure of whether to contact or not. But as Jean claims that having family around you is one of the most important things, Sharon seems to see it as another man in her life who she doesn't really need and decides to bin the phone number.

However, later as Sharon unfortunately misses her date with Kheerat and ends up drinking alone, Jean excitedly approaches her new found friend, even though she appears excited she also seems a little nervous and jittery. Admitting she might've overstepped the mark, she repeats the fact that Sharon needs her family around her and considering she hasn't got that many members of her family left ..... ?! Sharon questions what Jean has done and it's only when they get out onto the Square they see a car pulling up and stepping out of it, appears Zack! Jean only contacted her brother! But the interesting thing that gets me, Zack greets Sharon by calling her "Sis!" - last time he saw her, he had no idea who she was, just another person who attended his Dad's funeral, does this mean that Jean informed about Sharon's true identity?!

Either way, I'm super excited to see what happens next, I'll be sure to follow up this post with another one tomorrow. I once again apologise for this being super late, I'm going to try my very best to catch up, regardless at being back to the day job! Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. Please feel free to leave me any messages or comments about EastEnders and I'll happily reply! Love you all xXx

[rainy4thmonth]

Cherry magic - It's more than BL drama

Recently, i put my eyes into a fresh BL drama for Japan titled 30-san made doutei dato mahoutsukai ni narerurashi or if you virgin until 30 years old, it seems you'll become a wizard or known as Cherry maho (cherry magic). The title seems so long enough to forget it by its original name. You could get the information around almost all social media such as twitter or instagram. It's kinda trending somehow. Even in MyDramaList, they got more than 9.0 rating. The actor is not really new at japan entertainment. The protagonist is 30 years old a dull virgin, Kiyoshi Adachi who work as salary man, starred by Akaso eiji who well known in series Kamen rider build as Banjo Ryuuga. He start his career as a fashion model. The second lead is Kurosawa Yuichi, a perfect talent handsome man, colleague of Adachi who have crush on him, starred by Machida Keita, member of popular talent group, exile tribe. It seems that Machida already more popular before play this role. At first sight, they seems like another type of couple in romance drama, when the popular one meet an unpopular person then falling in love with each other, but before you judge it immediately, please watch for 3 episode rule, although maybe you could attracted to it only for first episode. I want to point out some of its good side. It maybe contain my self opinion, so maybe you have different opinion with me.

Warning: maybe contain spoiler

So what's make this drama so special? 1. The characters portray so well. Thanks to Director and Script Writer who make each Character more precious in drama. It's not like I say the manga version is bad, but i can tell that the Characters in drama are better. Adachi is an introvert character. The introvert trait here is not showed as hikikomori, or have anxiety disorder, but as a normal Introvert who still can work and speak to other people properly, although he's not good with large group of people (ep3). He have low self esteem but still he live based on his ideal. Being Salaryman is an usual job in Japan society, to manage to get this job, i think Adachi is not really fool. However, he often compare himself to someone else that make him have low self esteem. On other side, Kurosawa is an extrovert who looks perfect in other's eyes, not just because He's handsome, He also clever and easy going. To be top sales in the company, often surrounded by female co-worker, is normal things if others envy him. He also being gentleman around Adachi. However, nobody's perfect, bring those image everywhere is tiring to person like Kurosawa, because once he makes mistake, other people would bad-mouthing him. We also know somebody like him in real-life, right?. It makes Kurosawa hide problem for himself. However, He one day told Adachi about his heart problem (ep7) and surprisingly got unexpected respond. Adachi told that seeing his weakness is kinda refreshing. For the first time, He heard that 'it's okay being not okay' despite forcely being perfect all the times. Beside, Kurosawa is the character of seme who have really good self-control eventhough sometimes he have pervert mind (in manga He even more pervert, a closet pervert). We also got Fujisaki-san which also very different with manga version. In manga, Fujisaki is just merely hardcore fujoshi with wild imagination who ship Kurosawa x Adachi so hard and often have dirty mind of them. But in drama, Fujisaki is a friendly, cute and seems to be family-oriented woman whose the truth, She doesn't have any interest into romance. However, She wants Adachi happy with Kurosawa since She notice Kurosawa's feeling to Adachi. Tsuge is closest friend to Adachi. Tsuge is a bookworm novelist who likes cute creature such as cat (and minato LMAO). Tsuge gradually love Minato, the delivery man who recently often sent a package to him, after he got same power with Adachi. TBH, for the first time i feel second couple not as strong as main couple, but they're also got interesting story later. 2. The Actors and their acting. I like how they play their role and portray each character and bring this character live. We can see Akaso eiji and Machida keita have a good chemistry. Eventhough they didn't do intimate skinship, i can feel their feeling through their eyes. Even forehead kiss scene at episode 3 seems more romantic than kiss on lips. Akaso's awkward acting also seems natural and all his gesture create the super cute Adachi. Machida as Kurosawa is also gentle and handsome. His sight when see Adachi, I can see the pure love of Kurosawa to Adachi through his eyes. Surprisingly, Kurosawa who seems cool outside is cute and sometimes hilarious inside his mind (whether his imaginations or sudden poetry lol). Also their gesture and their inner voice match perfectly. 3. The story is not just about love between two guys. Maybe this drama cannot fullfills somebody's fetish who want bunch of skinship and intimate scene in every single episode on BL drama. If you are those kind of people, better not watch it or you'll miss every good point of its story. Ofcourse its main story is about homosexual difficulties, how Kurosawa have to hide his feeling toward Adachi and how Adachi should respond to Kurosawa's feeling because they both man, when it seems better as collage than as a lover. More that that, this drama also show a pure love with consent. Kurosawa always considers Adachi's feeling. He doesn't want Adachi to feel forced into relationship or being uncomfortable around him. It also tells about dream and goal, when Adachi feels nothing he want to reach in life but gradually change to find his goal (spoiler for next episode). It also tells about how someone's feeling can have impact to other's perspective. Because of Kurosawa's love, Adachi can grow up and move forward. Because of knowing that everyone have their own problem, Adachi can be more confident to help others. Also Tsuge who try to come out of his comfort-zone and reach Minato's heart. The never give-up Minato, the hardworking Rokkaku, and aromantic Fujisaki-san who likes her career. Every Character have their own story which are amazing. I rarely see BL drama that have those kind of value, very decent. 4. The comedy. Priceless expression and anime-like joke. If you don't similar with these kind of comedy, i don't know whether you can enjoy it or not, but i laugh very hard at some scene. Also the backsound of Kurosawa imagination always tickled me 😂. The mole scene, Tsuge and Adachi's hilarious headbanging, memeable face of Tsuge, Kurosawa's jealousy, etc. 5. Easter egg in each episode However i learn it after several rewatched. It tells that Kurosawa often pay attention to Adachi since episode 1, when Adachi enter the office then slipped his feet, Kurosawa suddenly stand up. It also means that Kurosawa research about Adachi ever since He had crush (7 years? 😳) That's why he's very confident when said "I know everythings about Adachi". Kurosawa already knows that adachi like sweet tamagoyaki, He already put his finger to take sugar (ep2) but he still asks Adachi to not look suspicious. In Kurosawa's imagination, Adachi wear white tshirt, that tshirt Adachi wear inside his shirt. He also imagine Adachi sleep at his personal bed 😳. Since Adachi caught by elevator door, Kurosawa hold the elevator door for Adachi (Ep 3-4). Adachi very love onigiri, there's onigiri's display on his desktop (ep6). I hope i'll find more next time 😂.

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley chapter 8

A young man walked in.  His hair was dark, the style conservative.  The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket.

Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner.  

Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism. It hadn’t been published until his death.  

The lights flickered.  The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana.  The projector screen changed.  It now read:

Greetings 9’s Friends!  (And teacher.)

“This was my last mission briefing before I died,” said the young man.  “At least, that’s what I’d say if I was really Fidelity.”

“You’re saying you aren’t,” said Aizawa, keeping his voice level.  

The screen behind him changed to read Vestiges: what you need to know.

“I am based on Fidelity.  I’m also based on Railgun.”

“The hero who took down Destro?” asked Uraraka, clenching her fists and briefly floating in excitement.  

Why was she not getting a better grade in history?  

“Not exactly.  He wasn’t actually captured until years later.”

“But you broke his charge, his army!  And all by yourself!”

“Railgun did, yes.  I’ve put together a little presentation for you guys.  Hope you don’t mind.  We all figured you wouldn’t want to go any further without an explanation of sorts.”  He said this all with an enviably flat voice, despite his friendly words.  His body language was controlled and to the point.

Darn Midoriya for managing to build a fantasy that was so close to what Aizawa had always imagined the man to be like.  

(He was not a fan of Fidelity.  Underground heroes did not have fans.  It defeated the point.)

(He pointedly ignored his memories of the bootleg Eraserhead merchandise Midoriya and Yamada had snuck to Eri.)

“You’d be right,” said Aizawa.

“Cool,” said Six.  “Before we begin, I want you to understand that much of what I’m going to tell you will be a lie.”

“What?” said Iida, confused.  “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, there will be enough truth in it to get you through this safely, and enough falsehood to prevent the commission from taking advantage of Nine later, should they be watching what’s happening here with a quirk we can’t detect.”

“Nine?”  

“Izuku,” clarified Six.  

“Who you called Nine because…?”

“If we count in order of when we were supposedly born, he’s the ninth.  Although, really, he’s the first.  I’ll explain in a moment.”  He pointed to the screen.  “We call ourselves vestiges, and, like I said, we are all based on real people.  We’re part of Nine’s quirk.”  The screen switched to show Midoriya with eight shadowy figures behind him.  “I want to stress that Nine wasn’t aware of us until the sports festival. Specifically…”

The screen now showed Midoriya’s fight with Hitoshi, right before he broke his fingers.  Aizawa recognized the image as a still from one of the cameras.  Except those eight shadows were there as well, right in front of Midoriya.  

“You had something to do with him breaking his fingers and getting out of Shinsou’s quirk.”

“We don’t mix well with mental quirks, apparently. Nine minds all together at once are too many, even if eight of them are fictional.  It’s an interesting side effect.  Speaking of which.”

The new slide was a picture.  An edited picture.  Of a person giving a presentation.  

“Is that a meme?” asked Todoroki.

“Yes,” said Six.  

The slide read, You were never in All Might’s mind.  Nine was just confused.

That meme was so old Aizawa could feel himself taking psychic damage just by looking at it.  

“You’ve been passing through our, the vestiges’, mindscapes. Eight is simply based on All Might.”

That would be a relief, if not for the fact that that Six had admitted he was going to lie.  Also, there was something off about the whole explanation.  

Iida raised his hand.  “Excuse me!  You claim that you are part of Midoriya’s quirk, but you haven’t explained how!”

“I’m getting to that,” said Six.  “Todoroki-san, you’re the one who is always saying how similar Nine and All Might’s quirks are.  Do you have any theories?”

Todoroki’s eyes lit up, even though he kept his habitual deadpan expression.  “Midoriya is All Might’s secret—”

“We wish, but sadly no.  Pick a different one.”

Todoroki looked devastated.  He collected himself quickly, however.  “Midoriya’s strength,” he said, “he got it from All Might, didn’t he?”

“Yes.  Eight is a bit of a complicated case, since he’s based on someone who is alive and Nine knows personally, but in the end, he’s the same as the rest of us.”

“He said something about receiving Skyrunner’s quirk, earlier,” said Uraraka.  

“And Blackwhip…” said Iida.  

“You’re getting it,” said Six.  “Blackwhip originally belonged to Five, incidentally.”

“He has a copy quirk,” concluded Aizawa.  

Six nodded.  The screen changed.  “Right now, Nine has four quirks, three of which he can use freely.  Superpower, Blackwhip, and Float,” he read the quirk names off the screen.  

“And he’s going to get more?” asked Aizawa.

“Eventually,” said Six.  “We don’t want to overload his body—This whole process only kicked off when he met All Might.”

“And why you?” asked Aizawa.  “Why All Might, Skyrunner and these… Five others?”

“I would like to tell you,” said Six.  He raised a finger and waved it in a circle to indicate outside listeners.  

“What are the drawbacks?” asked Aizawa.  

“Hm?”

“The drawbacks.  I get dry eyes when I use my quirk.  Present Mic is deaf.  Vlad is anemic.  A quirk like this one has to have a drawback.”

“What, the broken bones aren’t enough for you?  Or the fact he didn’t hit on the activation conditions until he was fourteen?”

Aizawa stared, unimpressed.  

A tiny corner of Six’s mouth made itself visible over the collar of his coat.  “Well. I think you can make some conclusions but, again…”  He trailed off.  “There are a few more things you should be aware of.  First, Nine had no choice in who we are, although we all fulfil certain criteria.”

“Are you all relatives?” asked Todoroki.  

“Man, you never do give up, do you?” said Six.  “That’s a great quality in a hero.”

“Are you all heroes, then?” continued Todoroki.  

The slide on the screen changed again.  

Vestiges According to History:

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero

4. Vigilante

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

 “Unfortunately,” said Six, “no.”

.

Toshinori caught sight of the feathers first.  He had more experience as a hero, and, as he was no longer the primary user of One for All, the mental strain he was experiencing was much lower, comparatively.  His awareness of his surroundings was better.

Stay calm.  Don’t speak. Don’t run.  

Hawks could receive sensory input from his feathers, though neither Toshinori nor Izuku knew how much.  Better to be safe than sorry.  

We need to get out of the city.

Out of the country, too, for that matter, as much as it would hurt Izuku—

They couldn’t leave all their friends behind to face Shigaraki.  

A compromise could be reached.   They knew a few places—An island, near—

But first, the city.  The first priority was to evade pursuit.  

A bus pulled into the stop ahead of them, and they got on. If they could get outside city limits, where there were fewer people, fewer witnesses, Izuku could float them away. Also, Hawks was less likely to trap his feathers on a bus.  

We might be dealing with the Hawks problem earlier than thought.  

Izuku slouched back on the bus seat, covering his eyes. Toshinori looked up at the ceiling. The Hawks problem.  AKA, the others’ theory that Hawks had been raised as a child soldier, and Toshinori had missed the signs.  

Izuku put his hand on Toshinori’s knee.  

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the other passengers, a few rows ahead of them.  “I really just can’t believe it.  It’s like something from a horror story.”

“What?” asked someone else.  

“Look!”  

“Someone kidnapped All Might?”

The bus filled with chatter.  

Toshinori still couldn’t believe people thought Izuku kidnapped him.  The reality was closer to the opposite, honestly.  He’d have to apologize to Izuku’s mother…

There was a tiny incensed gasp from Izuku, and Toshinori saw Izuku glaring up at him.  Izuku made a series of gestures that could probably have been interpreted as ‘You can’t kidnap anyone, you’re All Might!’ even without the psychic link they were currently enjoying, then went into an enthusiastic tangent about how the commission was probably playing up the ‘crazy stalker fan’ angle.

Toshinori sighed, ruffled Izuku’s hair, and studiously avoided any and all thoughts about what he’d done to Aldera Middle School after Izuku had shown up to training with a black eye and bloody nose that one time.

“What?” squeaked Izuku, his eyes gone very wide.  

Drat.  

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw three passengers near the front of the bus stand up and felt his heart drop.  One of them had an obvious eagle mutation, the second had a bulging, almost spherical, neck, and the third had broad, flat-ended fingers.

Decades of hero experience told Toshinori exactly what was going to happen next.  Even before the guns came out.  

“Well,” said the eagle-headed man, “with all the heroes looking for the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ I guess this is our lucky day!”

“Nobody move!” demanded the man with the round neck. “This is a hijacking!”

Izuku let out an incredulous grunt next to him, but Toshinori could literally feel his mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing the quirks of the hijackers and possible motives.  

Really.  There was no way they weren’t going to help.  

.

“By the way, not all of Nine is awake, so, out in the real world his body is operating according to consensus.”

“Consensus of…” said Aizawa, not wanting to finish the thought as he stared at the two entries labeled ‘terrorist.’

“All nine of us together, yes.”

“That’s a pretty big drawback,” said Aizawa, his voice rasping against his throat.

“Eh.  It has its benefits.  Besides, Three and Two lived over a hundred years ago.  We didn’t even have the hero system back then.  Things change.”

“Excuse me!” said Iida, raising his hand.  “Why don’t the last four—the first four? —have names?”

“They asked me not to share them with you quite yet,” said Six.  “Don’t call Three a terrorist though.  That’s a bit of a sore spot with her.”  He looked off to the side.  

“And the quirks?” said Aizawa, hanging on to the very last bit of his will to live by the tips of his fingers.  “The ones I’m presumably going to have to teach Midoriya how to use?”

“Right.”

 Our Splendiferous Quirks

 8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero.  Quirk: Superpower.

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero.  Quirk: Float.

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero. Quirk: Internet Perception.

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero.  Quirk: Blackwhip.

4. Vigilante.  Quirk: Danger Sense.

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

 Aizawa was not surprised to see the last four entries, once again, had little information attached.  

“You know,” said Uraraka, “if you ignore the terrorists, this actually makes sense.”

“If you ignore the terrorists?” asked Iida, incredulous.

“I mean, think about who we’ve seen so far.”

“It is like Midoriya to have a split personality based on All Might,” agreed Todoroki.  Because split personalities were going to be his go-to theory, now that figments of Midoriya’s quirk’s imagination had shot down his ‘Dadmight’ conspiracy.  

“If you want to think of us as split personalities, sure,” said Six.  “We really don’t interact that much with the outside, though.”

“And Skyrunner is basically supermom,” said Uraraka. “Like, if she was All Might’s mentor, it makes sense that that’s what he’d envision her as.”

“Ah,” said Iida, “so she reminds you of Midoriya-san as well?”

Aizawa noticed Six shift uncomfortably and look away but decided he honestly did not want to know.  

“Oh, and you,” said Uraraka, spreading her hands to indicate Six, “are kind of like Aizawa-sensei!

“Except with more memes,” said Todoroki.  

“Yeah, except with more memes,” agreed Uraraka.  

Six faked a cough into his fist.  “Anyway, I think that’s everything…  No, wait.  Hawks.”

“Hawks,” repeated Aizawa.  

“Yeah.  We’re pretty sure he was raised and conditioned to be a slave for the commission from a very young age.”  Another pause.  Six turned to face Todoroki.  “Also, Dabi is probably your dead older brother, Todoroki Touya.”

“Oh,” said Todoroki.  

“What,” said Aizawa.  

“We’d just like someone in a position to do things with this information to have it.  Even if we were sure Nine would retain all this, he, ah.  The commission is doing a very good job of trashing his reputation.”

“Is this revenge?” whispered Todoroki.  “Did I push Midoriya too far?”

“Kid, you could beat Nine up on a weekly basis for ten years, and he’d still barely think of revenge.  Come on, I need to take you guys to Five.”

Barely, he said.  Meaning, he did think about revenge.  They had to get out of here fast; Bakugo’s life was in danger.  

.

There were lives in danger.  A simple robbery wouldn’t require this kind of setup.  These three needed hostages for some reason.  

Or…  Izuku traced the direction the three villains kept looking to the college student in the corner.  The young woman’s clothing was high quality, and she looked vaguely familiar.  

He couldn’t help but be exasperated.  Shigaraki Tomura was running around out there somewhere, and these guys were doing… whatever this was.  Causing problems.  He and Toshinori would have to try and evade Hawks after this.  

But exasperation wasn’t going to keep these people safe.  

Eagle-head looked like the leader at first glance, but on closer inspection, he was taking cues from the man with the squared-off fingers. The man with the round neck seemed to have a body expansion quirk of some type, possibly similar to Kendo’s, considering how his joints pulsed and how his clothing was designed with extra folds.

… He’d shown Toshinori a catalogue with similar clothing, once. But Toshinori had said that the ill-fitting look added to his disguise.  

In the tight confines of the bus, that would be dangerous. The best thing to do to him would be to throw him out when the bus came to a stop.

The quirk of the man with the square finger was a problem. It was probably an emitter type, rather than a transformation type.  Something to do with his hands, perhaps?

Honestly, the best thing to do for all of them, at least with regards to the people on the bus, would be to toss them off and then get the driver to gun it.  But then, what about people on the street?  These guys didn’t have any scruple against taking hostages, obviously.

“Hey, you, hand over the briefcase,” said the man with the round neck.  

Izuku glanced at Toshinori, who nodded.  Coils of Blackwhip ran up and down his arms under the sleeves of his suit, much more controlled and complex than Izuku had managed to date.  

Thanks for the help, Five.  

He slammed the briefcase into the eagle-headed man’s beak. Toshinori hadn’t skimped on anything when stocking the hideout, and the metal made immensely satisfying contact with bone.  Blackwhip shot out from near his elbow—like Sero—and wrapped around the hands of the gunmen, forcing their aim down.

The man with square fingers reacted first, raising his hand. Each fingertip emitted a flat, square pane that traveled in a straight line and got progressive larger.  Izuku pulled, slamming the man into the back of his own shield, because really, that was too slow, and how similar was this quirk to Crust’s?  Could the villain change the trajectory of his panels, or no?

Not the time.

The shield cracked as Izuku hit it from the other side, and Toshinori was throwing open the back door.  The man with the expanding quirk—and it was an expanding quirk—seemed to finally realize what was happening, and lashed out, but Izuku was faster than he was.  The spherical throat was evidently a weak point.  

“Can you stop?” Izuku asked the bus driver, who, tense as he was, slammed down on the brakes, making Izuku stumble.  He hauled the villains off the bus, Toshinori hopping off the back with the eagle-headed man a moment later.  

Well, that had happened.  

Izuku caught a flash of very distinctive red out of the corner of his eye.  

.

Six stopped.  “That isn’t good,” he said, looking slightly up.  There was nothing there that Aizawa could see, except for a collection of pipes.  They were travelling through a series of underground concrete passages in an effort to find ‘Five.’

“What is it?” asked Uraraka.  

Six’s form abruptly flickered and vanished.  Oh, that couldn’t be good.  

“Sensei.”  

Aizawa turned to see Midoriya standing behind them, wearing a truly godawful pinstriped suit.  He held his right wrist in his left hand, an odd bracer wrapped around it.

“Is that the Full Gauntlet?” asked Uraraka.  “Why-?”

Midoriya flashed a quick smile in her direction.  “I’m sorry, sensei, this is really last minute, but I need you to tell me how to use your quirk.”

.

We absolutely can’t strike first.

They wanted to.  They knew this would turn into a battle.  The first strike was an advantage they couldn’t discount.  

Win the battle and lose the war.  

He could see the cell phones already out, held bystanders not quite broken from the habits gained in All Might’s era.  Even with the Hero Commission already slandering him, this would affect the narrative.  If he ever hoped to be welcomed back to hero society, or even the public’s good graces, in any way shape or form, he could not be seen starting a fight with a hero.  Much less the current number two hero.  

“I don’t suppose you’ll make my job easier and release All Might from your mind-control quirk,” said Hawks, tone conversational despite the fact he was standing at least two stories above them in the air.  

“I don’t have a mind-control quirk,” said Izuku, reaching up to the knot of his tie.  

“And I’m not being mind-controlled,” said Toshinori, loosening his mask.  

Hawks actually paused.  “Oh my gosh,” he said, raising one hand to his mouth like a scandalized housewife, “I didn’t realize that was you!  What happened to your hair?”

“I… cut it off.”

“That’s, uh.”  Hawks quickly regained control of his expression.  “Terrible that this villain made you do that.”

Hawks’ heart wasn’t entirely in this apparently.  

Just as apparently, that had no bearing on what Hawks was actually going to do.  

.

“You’ve seen me use my quirk,” said Aizawa.  

“I know, and that’ll be helpful, too, but how do you use it?  What’s the feeling you get when you use it?  How do you activate it?  What’s the internal mechanism?  This is important.”

“Why?” asked Iida.  “What’s going on Midoriya?”

“It’s—” Midoriya’s form flickered.  He took a deep breath.  He was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.  “I’m in a fight right now, and it would be useful,” he reported, calmly.

“Please tell me it isn’t with my mind-controlled unconscious body,” begged Aizawa, “or the League of Villains.”  

“It isn’t.”

Thank goodness.

“I’m fighting Hawks.”

Why.  

No, ask questions later.  The Problem Child needed help now.  To fight the number two hero.

He didn’t know how knowledge about his quirk could be useful in a fight against Hawks, but the claim was far, far too stupid to be a lie.  

“When I turn on my quirk, I—”

.

Blackwhip unfurled from his arms like a dark version of Shouji’s quirk, tearing his sleeves to shreds and dislodging the feathers that had been imbedded there.  The ends wrapped around feather after feather, splitting into dozens and dozens of pseudo-arms.  Izuku was amazed.  

Someday, he would be able to do this on his own.  

For now—

For now, he was fighting Hawks, who had trained since childhood to fight on behalf of the commission.  

For now, he was a hero student, with only a few months of practical experience.  

For now, he was a fugitive, on the run and desperate.  

For now, he was host and member of One for All, and collectively they had been heroes for over a hundred years.  

And Toshinori had his back.  

They wrapped the silk tie around his knuckles.  Any protection for the bones in his hands was valuable.  In the other, they adjusted the briefcase.  They had only rarely used weapons in the last hundred or so years. Usually, their quirks made weapons overkill.  

But before that—Before that, things were different.  For a while, One and Two had used swords, of all things.  

This battle was much more even than it looked.  

Their victory condition: Escape with Toshinori.  

Their failure conditions: Civilian injury, serious injury to Izuku or Toshinori, or capture of either Izuku or Toshinori.  

To avoid the first point of failure, it was best for them to get away from the vulnerable civilians.  They didn’t want to give away float so soon in the game, so…  

They grabbed the edge of a building with Blackwhip and launched Izuku upwards, flinging feathers away from him.  Toshinori would follow and provide the group with a second perspective.  

Hawks did not expect to be joined in the air.  An incredulous smile graced his lips.  Izuku smiled back and catapulted himself directly into Hawks.

“You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for real!”

.

“What?” asked Hawks, startled.  He wasn’t one to have meaningful conversations with people he was supposed to bring in, but a statement like that had to be responded to.  

Even if most of his attention was on the quirk that Midoriya controlled with much more proficiency than indicated by his school records.  The kid was good, had good instincts when it came to battle, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get past Hawks’s guard, or to really close the distance between them.

“Your smile!” said Midoriya.  “When I was younger, I didn’t realize it, but once I knew the truth behind All Might’s smile, I understood!”  

“Did you, now?” asked Hawks.  

“Underneath,” said Midoriya, “your face is a lot like Todoroki’s!  It’s—”

Conversation during a battle was usually a distraction, to the person employing it as a tactic as well as the target.  Somehow, though, Midoriya was subverting that rule.

“It’s actually really sad!” exclaimed Midoriya, breathless, but apparently genuine, not mocking.  “Who hurt you?”

“Heh,” said Hawks.  This kid knew.  How? “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“Gotta hand it to the commission, they really did a number on you,” said Midoriya, briefly touching down on a rooftop.  “Why do you keep doing their dirty work for them?”

He was using that second quirk, but not his strength.  Was it a matter of ‘won’t’ or ‘can’t?’  Either way, it was something to keep an eye on.  

“Why don’t you—” Hawks briefly managed to pin Midoriya by the edge of his jacket, but the boy tore free easily.  “—fly free?”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hawks.  “What did you trade to All for One for those quirks?”  He didn’t actually believe Midoriya was in league with All for One.  Even tangentially, through proxies, they’d been at odds too many times, not to mention the videos he’d been shown by the commission of Midoriya and All Might interacting.  The connection there couldn’t be faked.

He’d know.  He’d tried so many times.

(Was trying now, with the League of Villains.)

(Midoriya wasn’t one of them.)

But he had a job to do.  

Besides.  Even he had to admit the commission had a point.  The quirks had to come from somewhere.  

(Just because Midoriya didn’t willingly associate with All for One didn’t mean he hadn’t been forced.  Didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten out.)

(All Might was protecting him.  How did they know each other?)

“Wouldn’t you take any hand offered to you if the person behind it offered to make you what you always wanted to be?”

Midoriya tilted his head to one side.  “Nope!” he responded, cheerfully.

.

On the street below, Toshinori coughed, blood splattering his sleeve.  What had Izuku been doing when he was younger, to get involved with so many dangerous and disturbing people?

It wasn’t my fault!

Kid really is a trouble magnet.  

Oh, heck, I think I recognized that one—

Really, with that sharp mind, and Izuku’s propensity for both curiosity, helpfulness, and, well, finding trouble, it was a miracle he’d stayed alive for so long.  

Wouldn’t call it a miracle, sonny—

HAHA I can’t believe he thought that was a dream.  

In his defense, a dream makes more sense than—

Guys.  Focus, please?

Yes.  This was not the time to discuss… that.  Now… Well.  Toshinori had a role he could play in this battle, even as he was, and—

Hawks and Izuku’s path over the rooftops mapped itself out in his mind.  

Oh, no.  

Izuku wasn’t evading Hawks.  

He was being herded by him.  

.

They tucked and rolled across the pavement, Blackwhip cocooning them and breaking their fall.   This was significantly more than what Five, what Daigoro, could use back when he was alive.  It took everyone’s efforts to keep everything going.  

Wait for it, they reminded themselves, bouncing back to Izuku’s feet.  

Izuku looked up.  This… was not a good position.  Hawks had forced them into the entertainment district.  They couldn’t trust that the fancy facades and art instalations of the buildings would hold up to Blackwhip.  Not to mention, in places like this…  He glanced around.  

Fourth Kind.  

Kesagiriman.

Slugger.  

Death Arms.  

There would be more, soon.  This was… less than good.  Maybe they should just grab Toshinori’s body and launch themselves with Blackwhip and Float, as far as they could.  They’d lose a lot of their advantage on Hawks, but at least then they wouldn’t be fighting five different heroes.  

Izuku gritted his teeth in something like a smile.  Five different heroes.  Well.  Nine on five wasn’t bad odds.  

.

Suzuku pulled himself along the ground, trembling.  He had been falling for—for ages by the time that witch woman had disappeared.  Why she had disappeared, he couldn’t guess, but…

Falling.  

So much falling.  

And hitting the ground again, and again, and again.  

You invaded our minds, said the woman, don’t complain when we counter with something psychological as well.  

Something like a laugh bubbled up from his throat.  

You can leave whenever you want, can’t you?

He’d show her.  He’d show her and find all her secrets.  Just see if he didn’t.  

.

Fourth Kind, Kesagiriman, Slugger, and Death Arms all had very physical, straightforward quirks.  Out of all of them, though, Death Arms was probably the most problematic, followed by Slugger and his long-range attacks.  

None of them held a candle to Hawks, of course.  Which was the reason why Death Arms in particular was so problematic.  

In order to deal with Hawks’s feathers, they needed Blackwhip. But using Blackwhip and One for All’s signature superstrength at the same time wasn’t something Izuku’s body was used to.  They were limiting it to small bursts.  Death Arms’ own physical enhancement quirk, while miniscule compared to One for All’s current stature, was nothing to sneer at.  

If Death Arms—or any of the other heroes—landed a solid blow, that could be it for Izuku.  

They refused to be locked away again.  

That’s when it happened.  

A scene played across Izuku’s inner eye:

A frosty morning.  A little boy with dark hair.  A farewell. Tears.  

He flubbed the landing and a sharp pain lanced through his ankle. Blackwhip wrapped it, giving it much needed support.  

He started to rise, only to drop to avoid one of Slugger’s patented Home Run Pitches (tm).  

The ball spun, ricocheting off the stainless steel of an art installation before drilling right through a wooden beam on a bit of scaffolding holding up part of a building that was being refurbished.  Izuku let out a breath of relief (there were still people around who hadn’t learned how to run away from a dangerous fight) before they returned to the dance with Hawks’s impressively huge number of feathers.  

Blackwhip could keep up with them, barely, but Izuku was tiring. He couldn’t take much more of this.

He needed an opening to get to Toshi—

Another scene:

She couldn’t be pregnant.  Not now. Not right after giving away another. The next time Sorahiko suggested drowning her troubles in sake, she was going to shove it straight up his blowholes, no matter that he was probably just as drunk as she was.  

This slip almost resulted in Izuku getting his face punched in by Death Arms.  Considering what he’d just learned, he’d almost welcome that fate, if it made him forget.  Plus, it might have been funny for the ultimate battle of ultimate destiny, the show down between One for All and All for One, to take place between not one, but two potato-headed individuals—

There was a sharp crack from above as the damage Death Arms had done to the scaffolding made itself known.  

Izuku didn’t have to think before moving.  

.

“Alright,” said Midoriya.  “I think I’ve got it.  Thank you, sensei.”  He looked young, now.  Barely primary school age.  

“I’d feel a lot better,” said Aizawa, “if I knew what you needed this information for.”

“Oh!  That’s simple.  You see, it’s my theory that the overlap in mechanisms between my quirk and Saito-san’s might allow for interesting emergent behaviors.  Specifically, her quirk bridges a gap I’d normally have no way of crossing, although there’s certainly drawbacks.  It’s like what we tried earlier, when I asked you to use your quirk.  Although, I am hoping for different results than what I was looking for back then.  I think, with what you’ve given me, and this processing time…  Yes, this should work.”  He clenched a fist.  “These remnants—I can use them!”

Remnants.  Vestiges.

Aizawa frowned.  Something… something wasn’t right, here.  The explanation Six had given them…

“Just keep going this way, for now.  Six will try to get back to you as soon as possible.  I have to go now!  I love you guys!”

He then faded out.  While waving.  

“Wow,” said Uraraka.  “Izuku-kun sure was a cute kid.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that.  

“Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki.  “You’re blushing.”

He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with that.  “This conversation is illogical.  Let’s go.”

“Sensei is weak to little kids,” observed Todoroki.  

And if they ever discovered they could remove the ‘little’ in that sentence and have it still be accurate, he’d never live it down.  

.

Hawks saw the eyes first, shining through the dust like two perfect green coins.  Then every one of his feathers went dead, and he started to fall.  

Sensation returned just in time for him to avoid hitting the ground at speed and, just as quickly, vanished again.  

A breeze blew cleared the dust away.  

Midoriya Izuku stood under the collapsed scaffolding, holding it up with black tendrils and sparking green arms.  If this scene had been all that there was, an observer might be forgiven for wondering why he was holding up the scaffolding like that.

But Hawks knew.  If Midoriya hadn’t caught the scaffolding, even he wouldn’t have been able to get those civilians out from underneath it in time.  He glanced to the side, where the almost victims were standing up. Normally, he’d just trust his feathers, but…

“Is that Eraserhead’s quirk?”

“Don’t worry, I asked Eraserhead-sensei for permission, first.”

“What kind of monster—” started Death Arms.  

“Don’t you dare, Mister ‘my quirk isn’t suitable.’” Midoriya shifted the scaffolding to one side and shrugged himself out from underneath it.  “As heroes, aren’t you supposed to consider the civilians around you?”  He laughed. “I guess we’re still a little bitter about that.”

.

Izuku was putting on a good show, but he was reaching the end of his endurance.  Plus, he could already hear the sirens of police cars and the exclamations that followed large groups of heroes on the move.  

Good thing, then, that Toshinori was about to round the corner in three… two… one… There!

To an outsider, Blackwhip wrapping around Toshinori probably looked violent.  In reality, everyone operating the quirk was intimately aware of everything wrong with Toshinori’s body and did not want to add to his problems.  They could have probably grabbed an egg like this.  

Grabbing the newly-exposed concrete and rebar of the building behind Izuku, they launched themselves up.  At the top of their arc, they activated Float.  Blackwhip reeled Toshinori in, and they held onto each other as Izuku prepared to use air pressure to launch themselves forward.  

He hadn’t blinked yet.  

His eyes really hurt.  

(And so did everything else.)

He aimed and kicked against the air, sending them soaring away.

They had escaped.  

.

Tomura ducked behind the wall at the top of the building, glad that his party had put so many points into stealth, because he was not touching what had just happened with a ten-foot pole.  He’d rather be shot again.  He’d rather fight Machia for a week straight with no rest breaks.  He’d rather listen to Sensei try to give him the birds and the bees talk.  

What was that?  Huh? What kind of a broken character build allowed for that kind of combat ability?  The mods had to be asleep.  If he were in charge, he’d nerf it, pronto.  

That was a lie.  He’d take it for himself.  

Still.  

“Uh, Shigaraki?  Boss man?  You okay there?” asked Spinner.  

“No,” decided Shigaraki.  

Suddenly, making all of them jump, Toga squealed.  “Did you see him?  Did you see Izuku-kun?  He was so cute with his nose bleeding like that!”

“Hey,” said Dabi, “are we going after the green kid or what?”

“No,” decided Shigaraki, for the second time in as many minutes.  And then, “Gimme the phone.  We need to call the doctor to get us out of here.”

They did, but that was pretty much secondary to his primary objective, which was to cuss out the doctor concerning the cursed knowledge that was currently trying to escape his skull with a pickaxe.  

.

“Um,” said Inko.  “Aren’t you going to get that?”  She pointed at the phone that had been buzzing on the table for the past several minutes.

“No,” said Garaki, pretending to sip at his tea.  “You were saying?”

[elysianrey]

what could be as lonely as love?

[part two of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1]

(a/n: Y’ALL. I JUST DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST. I’m so mad at myself... if you liked this or reblogged it sometime yesterday or today...feel free to do it again. The feedback i’ve gotten has honestly been the best. You guys are amazing. I will try to get part 3 up tomorrow. xoxo Content T+)

In the weeks following the secret lake party, Josie decided to throw a small get together at her house for their group of friends. Although Anne did not necessarily consider herself a friend of Josie’s, Ruby had begged and pleaded in the wake of Diana’s absence, especially since Moody was going to be there, and the two had been spending an awful lot of time together. Ruby was convinced that it would only be a matter of days before they officially began courting. Anne could find it within herself to be grateful that Ruby had given up her lifelong pining of Gilbert, however, the reasons why were still not entirely clear to her. 

But she knew it had something to do with that night at the lake, where she was beginning to see him as potentially more than a friend. And it frightened her.

Josie spared no expense in ensuring her friends had plates of food and many glasses of punch to help them enjoy the midsummer evening. After one glass, Ruby was giggling uncontrollably at a joke Moody had made and by glass two she was sobbing hysterically at a song he was strumming on his banjo. 

This was when she understood exactly just what kind of beverage this punch had in it, and she took it upon herself to drink enough until the movements of her body felt looser and her mind was a little less sad. Marilla trusted her judgement and Anne had grown far wiser when it came to drinking alcohol since the day when Diana and her consumed a whole bottle of raspberry cordial. She smiled reminiscently at the memory as she swirled the orange liquid in her glass and finished the rest with a silent toast to her bosom friend, hoping that she was savoring her time in France. 

Deciding she had enough of the girls’ dramatics, Anne slipped outside of the house into the clear, July evening that she was fixed on enjoying properly. 

She found herself trailing delightedly through the Pye’s enormous garden, the scent of blooming roses wafting through the twilight air and encompassing her slightly buzzed senses. Giggling lowly, she closed her eyes and attempted to follow the direction of that glorious smell with solely the use of her nose. She reached her arms out to feel for the delicate texture of a petal as she continued further into the maze of tall bushes. 

“Where, oh where, are you my lovely friends?” she called out joyfully into the nature surrounding her. For the most part, she was doing well to avoid running into the walls of bushes, but occasionally she walked headlong into one and had to use her vision by slightly squinting open one eye to redirect her path. The several glasses of punch she drank with her classmates seemed to be helping her discover the world in a new light tonight and she could not resist feeling grateful for it.

Eventually, her fingers found the source of her elation, and she knew she had made her discovery when she felt not only the feather-soft, smoothness of rose petals, but also the prickly thorns that accompanied them. Gasping from the slight ache on her pointer finger from the unexpected sharpness, Anne let her eyes drift open fully to appreciate the hundreds of red blooms that lay before her.

“Ah, there you are,” she grinned cheerily, sticking her finger in her mouth to stop the small drop of blood that had formed. “You are especially marvelous tonight with your velvety red petals and deliciously smelling perfume.” She dropped her hand to glide along the tops of the flowers and revelled in their feel.

“Anne?” 

The girl heard her name, yet her jubilant ministrations on the rose bushes continued. 

“Anne is that you?”

Pausing this time, she turned slowly to face the owner of the curious, low voice. Before her sat Gilbert Blythe, glass of punch in his hand, resting comfortably on an elegant wired bench that was almost humorously too petite for his large, broad form. At this realization, Anne let out an amused laugh, her mind still rather loose from the alcohol she had consumed.

Gilbert’s eyebrow raised in perplexity, his eyes looking bright and content in the dimming evening air. The side of his mouth quirked upwards, revealing half of a smile, as Anne’s laughter began to grow louder and harder until she was clutching her side in a desperate attempt to keep herself from toppling onto the green ground. 

“Oh Gilbert,” Anne choked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she choked for air. “I--you--” she attempted again, pushing the falling tendrils of coppery hair back from her face. “That bench you’re sitting on--it looks as it could nearly topple in half at any moment.” If only her brain would have allowed her to consider the words coming out of her mouth…

“Anne Shirely-Cuthbert,” Gilbert chuckled, quite entertained at this girl before him. “Are you calling me fat?” His face broke into a wide, dimpled smile that Anne could not help but saunter toward slightly, her feet moving on their own accord. 

“I would never,” she playfully gasped, stopping directly in front of him so that she could get a better look at his dapper features. This was the happiest she had seen him look in a long time, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the drink in his hand. It had certainly aided in lowering her inhibitions.  “I am positive that your big ego could do that all on it’s own.”

His face twisted into a mock expression of hurt and Anne’s laughter returned, a melodious tune ringing in his ears. “My ego may never return to the size it once was after a remark like that, Anne,” he grinned, his eyes staring fondly into hers. He brought his glass up to his lips for another sip of his drink.

Anne watched as his lips curled around the rim of the glass, an unwelcome heat forming in the pit of her stomach. These were not details about him she would usually notice and she tried her best to redirect her line of thinking onto something less romantical. 

“Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do, Gil? Touch your hair,” she gingerly stated. Great, Anne. That was just the perfectly normal comment to say to someone who was definitely not your romantic partner.

She watched his shoulders tense and the lighthearted expression on his face faltered enough for her to notice. “Anne,” he replied in a tone that denied everything his body had already told her. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

Anne crossed her arms, irritation building in her chest. For him to think that she needed to be drunk to say something like she wanted to touch his hair. The nerve. “Why is it of your concern? I’ll have you know that I am entirely in control of my thoughts and actions, thank you very much,” came her terse response.

He glanced away from her, not buying into what she had told him, however, he would not dare tell her that for he was a bit tipsy himself.

Anne waited crossly until he finished the drink in his hand, which he was gulping down this time. No longer caring that she would later regret a majority of the choices she was going to make from this point forward, the freckled girl stared boldly at him gulp down his drink, his adam’s apple bobbing, wanting nothing more than to prove him wrong.

The heat in the pit of her stomach had returned, and was growing until she could feel it everywhere. Her whole body was hot and it was all because of him. The handsome boy in front of her with his deep, warm eyes that constantly brought reassurance in her moments of doubt, the spotted beauty marks on his face that she wished to count and connect to form new constellations, and that hair. His dark, wild head of curls that folded in every direction, and had been tempting her to reach out and run her fingers through for weeks now. The jealousy she had felt all because of those water droplets that had clung to it that night. 

When he turned his head back toward her, he seemed to pick up on the newfound intensity in her sparkling blue eyes. He rivaled her dark scrutiny with a matching expression of his own.

“So may I?” she asked once again, her chin tilting up to signal that she was not going to relinquish this quest.

“Fine.” His retort was clipped and unfeeling, which left Anne further annoyed that he was acting childish about simply granting her this one wish.

Normally, she was not the selfish type. She was always ready to leave her work at the drop of a hat and run off to help someone in need. But not today. No, in this secluded section of Josie Pye’s garden, filled up on a little too much spiked punch, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was bound and determined to get her way. 

She sealed the distance between them, inching forward until her knees brushed against his. Despite the fabric separating them, her skin burned hot enough that she almost stumbled backward. Quickly steadying herself, she reached out a tentative hand that ghosted along the side of his head. Anne was trying her hardest not to look at Gilbert for she had a sinking suspicion that she would know exactly what she would see if she looked into his eyes. Her hand trembled as she moved her fingertips ever so slowly along the tips of his hair.

Then she brought her fingers into his curly locks and he let out a small gasp of pent up air that she feared had come from her mouth instead because as she touched his hair lightly with one hand, her heart nearly exploded out of her chest cavity in trepidation. His silky strands were everything that she imagined and more. It was as if she were running her hands along the tall wildflowers that grew in the fields near Green Gables. She began to lightly twist a finger around a strand and she watched as it coiled gracefully to her request and then bounce back to its original form. However, one hand coursing through his luscious, sleek hair was not enough for her, and Anne raised her other hand to continue her analysis. As that hand landed on his head, Gilbert’s hands were suddenly grabbing ahold of her waist.

Anne immediately froze, her tender exploration coming to a halt as she inhaled sharply at the contact. She looked straight ahead at the green shrubbery before her and her fuzzy brain wondered if he was going to let go. He did not. Yet she would be a liar if she tried to deny that she didn’t enjoy the slight pressure his large hands were currently presenting on her waist. Reluctantly removing her hands from his hair, she brought them down to hover on top of his hands instead, still not meeting his gaze. 

That’s when she heard a whisper, barely loud enough for her ears to register, and quite desperate, “Anne.”

And for the second time that evening, the copper-haired girl was selfish and finally gave in to what she wanted, no matter how insane the desire was, her blood pumping furiously throughout her body with courage. Closing her eyes, she swiftly pressed her lips against his, sunbursts of light exploding behind her eyelids. A noise of shock bubbled out of Gilbert’s throat at first, then he was pulling her closer to him and her body was wedged between his legs quite scandalously, but when had she ever been one to care about what society deemed as proper?

Here she was, heatedly kissing the most beautiful boy she had ever met, and he was returning her advances with all of the passion and fervor she had ever dreamed of. His lips were slightly chapped, however they felt nearly as soft as his hair that her fingers had returned to, and when she pulled at it, a low moan reverberated in the back of his throat, and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was confident that Gilbert Blythe was going to be the reason for her undoing. 

Finally pulling back, Gilbert leaned his forehead against hers and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Anne-girl,” he murmured breathlessly, a hand coming up from her waist and caressing the freckles on her cheek with his knuckles. Anne’s heart soared from hearing his affectionate nickname spoken from his lips in such a delicate manner. “I think you’ve made your point,” he added with a quirk of his lips. 

“Hmm...I’m not sure I have,” she teased lightheartedly, tugging again at the dark strands, which prompted Gilbert to go in for another stolen kiss. She ended it quickly though by pulling away from his embrace from where he sat on the bench and taking a distancing set away from him. “We should be getting back to the house. It’s getting late.” Her mind felt like it was becoming clearer. Anne would have tried to walk back by herself, but the game she had made up to find the roses had ultimately left her lost in this garden.

Gilbert could not help hiding the look of disappointment that crossed his face at her abrupt request after the moment they had shared. He rose and offered her his arm, which she accepted graciously with a placid smile, and they started in the direction from which they initially came in silence, neither seeming to know quite what to say.

“If I behaved immodestly--” she blurted out anxiously, keeping her eyes directed toward the ground. Now that the alcohol was wearing off, rational Anne, who knew how to behave in the presence of a boy, a friend, was returning.

The boy walking beside her let out an incredulous huff. “You didn’t Anne and if I did anything to lead you---”

“Absolutely not Gil,” Anne broke in vigorously, lifting her eyes to meet his with a calm assurance. As much as it pained her to say it, she added, “I think I just need some time to think and process some of the events that conspired tonight.”

Gilbert’s voice sounded tight as he hollowly agreed, “Yes, of course.” This did not do much to aid the guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach during the rest of the walk to the house. 

He did not say a word and neither did she. 

+++++

The journey back to Green Gables with him by her side was just as quiet and tense, which was very unlike them. Usually they talked far beyond their arrival at the front gate of her home, to the point where Marilla was calling for Anne to come inside the house. Tonight, Gilbert gave her a brief ‘Goodnight’ and turned in the opposite direction toward the Blythe Farm. Anne stood at the gate, watching him go until she could no longer see his broad outline, her throat feeling exceptionally dry. Not like when his lips had been dragging along hers only hours prior. She briefly considered shouting out to him and working to talk this whole situation out. Explain that she had wanted it to happen so badly. Yet he had shut himself off to her because she had hurt him by not saying more.

Here it was, the regret. She was a foolish girl, Marilla was right.

Sighing loudly, Anne opened the gate and made her way into Green Gables. She had assured Matthew and Marilla that she would be alright without them waiting up for her tonight so they were fast asleep in their beds. 

When she got to her room, she shut the door quietly and flopped down on her bed, biting down on her bottom lip, hard, in an effort to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling. It was no use. All she could picture was Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. The way his mouth tasted, how he made every nerve in her body act on their own accord, the noises he made because of her. 

She knew sleep would be futile tonight.

[tinsley-goldsworth]

band-aids don’t fix bullet holes chapter 4

read chapter 4 on ao3! 

Summary: ricky and c.c.’s relationship comes crashing down and c.c. hates watching it burn

Wc: 2842

Tw: kidnapping, angst, mild violence

~

To say that C.C. wasn’t expecting this was an understatement. He and Ricky hadn’t been on best terms ever since the mysterious stranger showed up at their house and warned C.C. vaguely before getting stabbed. C.C. kept asking Ricky if what the stranger had said was true but Ricky denied or changed the topic whenever he asked.

C.C. and Ricky had gotten into an argument and Ricky had stormed off in the dead of night to “collect his thoughts”. C.C. hated sleeping on arguments but at this point, he was too tired to stay up and think about Ricky and his sly lies. He fell asleep and when he woke up, he was tied to a chair in what seemed like a dark warehouse.

C.C. knew Ricky was agitated but there was no way Ricky would have gotten so mad as to plan to commit homicide, right? Dang, he really hated dating an unpredictable, emotional criminal. He realized that Ricky wasn’t the one who tied him up as the knot style was different from the knot style Ricky used. As C.C. struggled to escape from the boa-constrictor-like grip of the ropes, a figure stepped out of the dark corners of the warehouse. “C.C. Tinsley. Or should I say, Banjo McClintock?”

A man walked out from the shadows, a fedora on his head and a smirk on his face. C.C. didn’t recognize the man but by the way the man acted, C.C. was probably supposed to recognize him. The man took off his sunglasses that never had any use in the first place other than serving as a fashion accessory and met C.C.’s eye as he took out an ID. On the ID card read the name “Banjo McClintock” with the man’s smiling face next to the name. C.C. reeled in shock, wondering why Ricky never told him the Banjo McClintock was the name of an actual person and Banjo began pacing around the C.C. in small circles with his hands clasped behind his back.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here. Don’t worry, I’ve got all the time in the world to explain,” Banjo chuckled and C.C began trying to

Piece together who Banjo was. He had no accent whatsoever in his voice, making it obvious he was a voice actor or a spy. C.C. decided that it was the latter as a voice actor probably wouldn’t have the guts to kidnap anybody.

“You see, you’re not supposed to be doing much, you’re just serving as bait for our dear friend Ricky,” Banjo hissed out Ricky’s name as if silently cursing him. “Ricky and I used to work together. As a spy for the government, I didn’t have many people to rely on and I would often turn to Ricky for information. We worked together for a couple years before I got assigned an investigation into one of Ricky’s close criminal friends, he decided that it was time to end my career.”

C.C. knew that he should be taking notes and paying attention to Banjo’s dramatic villain confession but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. After all, he just had a fight with his boyfriend and now he was getting kidnapped because of his boyfriend, so he really didn’t know how to feel about all this. Banjo couldn't care less about the internal conflict and emotional shifts C.C. was going through and continued to ramble on.

“I had gone to Ricky for leads for that investigation and he brought me to an abandoned building. He proceeded to lock me in the building and set the building on fire, leaving me for the dead,” Banjo turned towards C.C., waiting for a reaction to the gruesome tale. C.C. gave no reaction as he heard more gory stories about his boyfriend murdering and blackmailing people than this tale.

“What he didn’t expect was for me to live. I guess he really thought I was dead as he gave my identity to you. What a smart guy. I mean, if you’re dead, you don’t exist, right? You’re basically off the records with this ID,” Banjo mused, pausing his storytelling to consider a thought that briefly crossed his head. He blinked out of the momentary trance and continued. “I used to be a good cop but now, I just want revenge. I sent a warning but you didn’t listen. I’m tired of Ricky messing around. Did you know he’s still fooling around in the crime world? Not as much as he used to but he still has a prescience.”

C.C. gritted his teeth, hating that he was only finding out about this now. He really hated that Ricky was lying to him and that the perfect life he had lived was all an illusion. The thought that everything was fake had made a home in the back of C.C.’s mind so while it surprised C.C., he knew that Ricky was tied to the criminal world and that even if he tried, he wouldn’t have been able to ever fully separate himself. But Ricky didn’t even try to separate himself, according to Banjo, and the fact that Ricky had lied really hurt C.C.

“Ricky lied to you about stopping. He’s addicted to the thrill of it. He loves feeling the adrenaline and the thrill of breaking the law right under the cops’ noses. It’s time for me to end his reign. You’re one of the only things he cares about and he’s going to be running here for you soon. I will be remembered as the man who took down Ricky Goldsworth,” Banjo’s voice crescendoed as he passionately spoke and gesticulated, a crazed expression in his eyes. C.C. definitely couldn’t trust this guy a hundred percent as a near-death experience probably didn’t help this guy's credibility in terms of mental stability.

Just as Banjo began to ramble about how C.C. was just a “boy toy”, a loud bang echoed through the seemingly empty warehouse. As C.C.’s eyes adjusted to the darkness from the direction of the sound, he saw Ricky walking towards Banjo, a controlled but furious expression on his face. He seemed unfazed but also dangerously on the edge of becoming unhinged in the blink of an eye.

“Banjo. I didn’t know you were alive,” As Ricky approached Banjo, the spy backed away and raised a gun to C.C.’s head, clicking the bullet into place. C.C. wasn’t too worried about dying as he had ended up in more dangerous situations and based on Ricky’s quick-witted nature, he was probably going to get out of this alive.

“Surprise,” Banjo snarled, beginning to loosen his grip on the gun, his focus shifting towards Ricky and away from C.C. For a spy, Banjo wasn’t very observative as he didn’t seem to notice that Ricky had been slowly walking towards him. Ricky’s eyes met C.C.’s and they read each other’s minds for a second, sharing the intent to take Banjo down. C.C. stuck out his leg and kicked Banjo in the ankles, causing him to trip and catching him off guard.  As Banjo doubled over, Ricky sped over and stabbed him with a knife. A minimal amount of blood splattered as Ricky clearly killed with the intent to cover it up.

Banjo screamed in agony but Ricky kicked him aside, clearly more worried about C.C. With the bloody knife, Ricky cut open the ropes that bound his boyfriend and when C.C. was free, Ricky leaned towards C.C. to give him a kiss but C.C. jerked back.

“I don’t even know you anymore! Is this what you’ve been up to? Still making enemies?” C.C. argues, anger blinding all his other emotions. Ricky opened his mouth to respond but C.C. cut him off harshly. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. This was your mess and you dragged me into it. You have lied to me about everything and I don’t want to hear any more lies.”

C.C. began storming off, satisfied that Ricky wasn’t trailing behind him. He paused for a moment, spun around, and felt his heart painfully twist as he saw Ricky’s hurt expression. Ricky always remained composed and smooth but now he was visibly torn and his sharp pin was reflected his eyes, but C.C. couldn’t seem to find empathy. He had been feeling this immense emotional pain Ricky was now feeling ever since he had first loved Ricky and C.C. met Ricky’s hazel eyes that were pooling with heartbreaking sadness as he spat, “And you know what? I think I fell in love with the old Ricky. The Ricky that actually trusted me and didn’t go around stabbing people.”

With that C.C. walked away from Ricky and the life he had with his old boyfriend. He returned back to the place where he was working before and explained his disappearance as a long break he decided to take to cope with the death of his grandpa. People didn’t really question it as they had better things to do with their time and the head of the office simply welcomed him back with a “We’re glad to have our best detective back!”

C.C.’s job was more difficult because now every criminal ache encountered reminded him of Ricky. He hated that he couldn’t stop thinking of Ricky no matter how hard he tried. Little did C.C. know that Ricky still cared. A lot. Although Ricky pretended not to care, he still often made sure C.C. was doing okay. He didn’t react as irrationally as C.C. thought he would and no killing sprees had commenced yet.

When C.C. realized that keeping his feelings to himself wasn’t going to allow him to forget Ricky easily, he decided to go pay Francesca a visit. When he walked into Francesca’s thrift store, he heard Francesca talking with Ricky and froze. He hadn’t heard Ricky’s voice in weeks and his voice alone was bringing back memories and a sense of longing.

“To be fair, you did kill my husband to save him. I mean, I’m not too mad about it but you can’t expect me to be cheerful either,” Francesca scoffed, playful disdain and thin resentment in her voice. C.C. was pretty sure she was referring to Banjo and was taken aback at this new information. He wouldn’t have expected Francesca to marry a spy, but then again, he never knew what to expect from Fran.

“Please, that poor man was so boring, Fran. I can’t believe you settled for him,” Ricky chuckled and Francesca broke into a grin. C.C. cleared his throat, making his presence known and when Ricky turned around, their eyes met for a brief second before C.C. looked towards Fran. Ricky awkwardly adjusted the gold watch on his wrist and mumbled something about leaving before he brushed past C.C. and left the store.

“If it isn’t good old C.C.,” Fran smiled as C.C. walked up to the counter, who broke into an equally bright smile, glad to see his old friend. “You have no clue how much I’ve been hearing about you from Ricky. He’s so infatuated but he was too dense to properly show you how much he cared about you.”

“I really thought he cared and it really sucked that he had been lying to my face this whole time,” C.C. admitted, sighing in frustration as he remembered him shouting at Ricky the last time he saw him. Fran nodded, an empathetic look on her face as she arranged trinkets on the counter into a neat little pyramid.

“Ricky had good intentions. Contrary to popular belief, Ricky isn’t a terrible person. Sure, he might not be the best person- after all, he did kill a bunch of people- but he cares a lot about you,” the corners of Fran’s twinkling eyes crinkled with amusement as she spoke. It was hard to believe that this was where these three friends had ended up and C.C. could tell that Fran was thinking about their high school years too after bringing it up.

“I know but it’s just so hard to forgive him. I trusted him and he lied for so long. Maybe I fell in love with the old Ricky,” Tears threatened to fill C.C.’s eyes as memories sped through his head, remembering the good old days when C.C. and Ricky were able to be around each other without too much to worry about.

“Ricky is still the same old Ricky. To be fair, his job has changed him and he’s developed a rough exterior. But under that tough shell is still the same Ricky that can’t stand salad dressing. He still has one of the biggest hearts in this world,” Fran couldn’t help but smirk at the odd juxtaposition of the concept of good and an infamous serial killer.

“I want to forgive him and love him without worrying about him lying because of his job but it’s… difficult,” C.C. struggled to word his feelings as he just had a lot to think about when it came to Ricky. He had never stopped loving him but he also wondered if Ricky really did love him back or if he was using him.

“If you really do love him, take your time for your decision. Forgiveness doesn’t come as easily if you’re hurt badly but just remember that he’ll wait for you,” Fran’s eyes were filled with emotion, a rare sight, as C.C.’s dilemma seemed to remind her of something in her memories that was long forgotten. C.C. thanked Francesca for the advice and she returned back to her happy self, replying with a wink, “Its no problem at all! Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding when you two get married!”

“On the topic of weddings, why wasn’t I invited to your wedding? I’m not hurt, just curious,” C.C. asked and Francesca chuckled, her signature smile paired with a glint in her eyes creating an amused expression.

“I didn’t have a wedding since I wasn’t legally married. Banjo and I were spies so our identities don’t really exist. Besides, having legal documents is basically begging people to dig up your past,” C.C. raised his eyebrows at the last statement and gave her one last glance before exiting the shop. No matter how many questions he asked, Francesca Norris was always going to be the most mysterious person C.C. had ever met.

C.C. caught himself thinking about Ricky and his relationship with Ricky almost constantly no matter where he was. He wanted to talk to Ricky again but he was terrified that he was going to immediately fall back into Ricky’s deceiving lies. C.C. returned to Fran’s shop a couple more times to ask for advice and to spill his feelings and Fran told him about how Ricky hadn’t been active in the criminal community anymore.

C.C. was surprised since he thought Ricky would go on killing sprees to cope with his feelings but Fran informed him that Ricky skipped the anger stage of grief and went directly to the depression. According to Fran, Ricky spent most of his time infiltrating public cameras and watching over C.C. to make sure he was safe.

Then, C.C. realized that Ricky really did care for him and probably regretted lying to him. Just as Fran said, forgiving was a process and he eventually accepted his feelings and decided to give Ricky a second chance. C.C. didn’t want to jump back into a relationship quickly but he wanted to ease himself back into talking with Ricky again and smoothening their rocky relationship.

C.C. knew that Ricky could get into C.C.’s house and probably visited a couple times since they stopped seeing each other. He figured this out from a couple of his bottles of champagne disappearing. Ricky eventually began to visit C.C.’s house more often and began helping him out. Whenever C.C. stayed up working on a case, he often fell asleep with the light on but lately, whenever he fell asleep with the lights on, he woke up to find that the light had been turned off. Sometimes C.C. would leave the radio on and leave the house in a rush and come home to discover that the radio was turned off. As much of a bastard Ricky was, he still helped C.C. save money on his electricity bill and obviously still cared for C.C. Tinsley.

Recalling that Fran mentioned that Ricky was keeping a close watch on C.C., which was a little creepy but oddly comforting, C.C. decided to leave him a little note in his kitchen. If he was going to give Ricky a second chance, he had to take it one step at a time. On the note, C.C. simply wrote, “I’m giving you a second chance. Dinner at 8 on Monday?” He left the note on the same kitchen counter Ricky used to sit on while waiting for C.C. to return from work and went off to work. It felt a little artificial but C.C. didn’t see how he could contact otherwise. When he came back home after work, he was delighted to find that a response had been written on the back of the note.

Ricky has scrawled, “I missed you. I can’t wait for Wednesday” and C.C. broke into a genuine smile, finally feeling hope that maybe this would work out after all.

~

taglist: @hot-mess-writer @thesevensins-1990

a sequel is coming soon! if you want to read it when it comes out, subscribe to this series on ao3! i have my bfu fics linked in my bio!

[kioraxerxo]

A/N: aww heeell yeas the perfect thing to distract me from finals week. I did a bit of research at how Imperial College works since this is set in 1969. Thanks anon!! Keep em’ coming guys! 

Warning: NSFW nyohoho don’t read this in school jesus this is dirty. 

London, 1969. 

You’ve always regarded yourself to be a capable person --that is before you moved in with Brian. To be honest when you met him, he didn’t seem that spectacular. He was a rather gangly physics student who minded his own business. You’ve noticed him before since he tended to linger by the Union Concert Hall. You decided to recruit him to the Entertainment Committee because the workload was getting a little too intense around midterms. 

He was a fairly good workmate, albeit a little nervous around you for a while. You found it adorable how he would try to assist you in all the little things in the Committee. He was like a puppy, or rather a poodle. Quite an innocent, gentle man. The type to settle down in a 9-5 job after finishing college.  That image changed that faithful night when disaster struck. It was one of the biggest events in the school year and your organization invited the hottest bands around London. Said hottest band’s guitarist was a little too drunk (passed out) to play. And so your little Committee huddled together for damage control. You were nearly at the end of your wits from arguing when Brian piped in.  “What you got to say, newbie?” the VP sighed, clearly as equally frustrated as you were. 

“I... I can play a little.” he stuttered. “They’re just covering some Beatle songs, I know how to play those.”

You knew this was a bad idea. But there was no other choice. “I’ll talk to the band.” you said. 

“What? You’re actually on board with this?” your deputy general said. “Have you actually heard Brian play?”  Your temper spiked. “Well can you play, Sharon? Or would you rather we come out there and tell them the event’s over?” You turned around and stomped towards the band. 

Turns out it was the best decision you’ve ever made. He rocked the entire house. It was on that night that your perception of Brian May, the quiet physics nerd, changed. 

And it continued to change more when you and him entered into a relationship. Time and time again you are completely floored at things he can do. After discovering that he’s a master at the guitar, you discovered he can play multiple other instruments too-- coupled with a wonderful voice. Then you discovered that he was a genius in class.  Then you discovered that he’s a good artist, a capable writer, and is on the college cricket team. He can cook well, repair appliances with ease, and even watercolour for heaven’s sake. 

He crafted his own guitar when he was only 16 years old!

It’s not that you were jealous of Brian-- no you were proud and thankful you had such a capable boyfriend to be at your side. 

The problem really, is how mediocre you felt you were around him. 

Said renaissance man was currently taking a shower. He’d been fiddling with his banjolele (yes a banjo and a ukelele--you didn’t even know those things existed and he can already play it well).  You’ve always wanted to play instruments. You weren’t gifted with a pleasing voice, so music would be the only recourse. You pushed away the blankets and hesitantly picked up the instrument quietly strumming some chords you remember back when you played the uke. You checked to see if your muscle memory still worked and you quietly plucked Moon River. You were starting to get the hang of it when Brian emerged from the shower wrapped up in a towel looking rather excited. 

“Are you playing? Is that Moon River? You never told me you could play!” he grinned from ear to ear. For some reason, he’s always been egging you to play instruments, but for some reason as well you didn’t want to play in front of him. You didn’t want him to see that your learning process took a lot longer than his. It was ridiculous and you were aware of how ridiculous you were. 

You immediately let go of the instrument. “I was just studying the craftsmanship. It’s good , it’s really good.” 

But he knew you said it too quickly, a clear indication of you lying. “Come now love, i want to hear you play!” he perched himself beside you, the scent of his shampoo overwhelming your senses.  “I told you, I don’t know how to!”  “But you were playing just now! Look, I can teach you!”  Something about that sentence struck a chord inside you.   “I don’t want you to teach me anything! I already know how good you are at it, no need to show off.” you spat out. He was taken aback a few moments. There was a look of confusion and hurt until it mellowed to understanding.  “This isn’t just about musical instruments, is it love?” He asked gently, crawling on the bed and moving beside you. You knew it was an invitation so after laying down your pride you snuggled up beside him.  “I’m... so embarrassed about this. Christ, Brian I don’t want you to know this side of me.” you buried your face in his chest. You felt the shame through your cheeks. He patiently waited for you to continue, rubbing your back in soothing circles.  “I...I feel so mediocre when I’m with you.” you mutter. 

“What?” he pulled you back to peer at your face. 

“You’re just... you’re so good at everything you do. You’re almost naturally good at everything. You barely take anytime to completely master something.”

“Love, that’s not true. Not one person is like that.” he shook his head.  “Remember the time I left you with that small puzzle box my brother gave me last Christmas? I’ve been trying solving that for well over a month. I went out to buy groceries and when I returned you’ve already fixed it!”  “It was just a simple puzz--”  He stopped when he realized that saying that would make you more upset. Brian just sat there hugging you, unsure of what to do really. Suddenly, he placed you upright on the bed and reached out for the banjolele. 

“You know, this was the first instrument I knew how to play. My dad would play this tune over and over again. Said it was what got him through the war.”  You smiled. You loved hearing stories about Brian’s family. It never failed to warm your heart.  He handed you the instrument. “Come on now, you’ll never learn by staring at it.” You slowly took the instrument. “Now how about you play me that sweet tune you were playing a while ago?” he smiled and pecked you on the lips.  

You took a deep breath. You felt your body tense. Brian felt it too. 

He situated himself between your legs and held your thigh the way he would hold a guitar.  “What are you doing.” 

“Teaching you chords.” he said casually. 

“Mhmm?” you smirked, knowing exactly where this was going. He shrugged you off. 

“Pay attention now student.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “This one’s a G” he pressed his fingers firmly into your flesh. You pretended to be unfazed and mimicked it. “Like this?”  “Good. This is an F.” he slid his fingers higher, pressing into the sensitive tendon. You shivered in pleasure but you wouldn’t let him have it that easily. You could see the smug look on his face and your resolve strengthened. 

“Hm. I see. How do you do an F7?″ “That one’s a bit more complicated. You press you fingers here.” he placed it on that bit of flesh between your thigh and your groin. “And here” he was edging closer and closer to that spot. “and here--”  “Just fuck me already Brian. Stop teasing.” you growled.  A wide grin spread on his face and he took the instrument from you and placed it on the bedside table before completely enveloping you in his arms. He kissed you deeply, conveying all the love he held for you. You buried you fingers through his hair and inhaled his intoxicating scent. You pushed the towel around his waist off, impatient for contact.  Brian chuckled. “Wait a moment, love. I haven’t even taught you strumming yet.” 

You were about to complain when you felt his fingers slowly entering you and your vision turned white from the flood of absolute pleasure.

“See, it really depends on the feel of the song how you strum.” he said in a rather clinical voice that oozed with confidence. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

“But the general rule is that you curl you fingers like this.” he grinned while doing so.  You yelped and grabbed his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much you were shaking. The pace of his fingers had you screaming in seconds. You clung unto him when you felt that familiar heat pooling at the base of your stomach. Soon enough you were seeing stars, he started slowing down before pulling his fingers back and popping it in his mouth.  Through sleepy eyes you watched him. You knew what Brian looked like when he was pleased with himself. He was definitely pleased with himself.  “I know one thing you’re not good at, Brian May.”  “Mhmm?” he muffled, fingers still in his mouth. “You don’t know how to play the trumpet.” “Well, when I was ten I think I--” “I’ll teach you.” you cut him off as you got up and pushed him back on the mattress and settled between his legs.  You were pretty good at some things too.

A/N: WOW. This turned out to be longer than I expected. Jesus christ this is dirty. I hope you guys like it! Feel free to message you about requests!