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cosmicangst · 3 years ago

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hi! i saw that you play tears of themis and your fav is artem, so i wanted to ask if you could do an analysis on marius and his relationship with the mc? <3

omg ok marius is a dark horse because i didn't expect to like him so much and artem is my bias as a character and partner (for me specifically! lol) but marius's relationship w rosa is my fave if that makes sense? so some stuff here is supplanted by my hcs and conjectures and i’ve only reached up to part 2 of episode 5 so bear w me if any info here isn’t entirely on the nose

i’ll preface w a necessary joseimuke tangent that a common otome theme is unequal power dynamics involved in class/career/status positions (which is part of the appeal and the fantasy), with the male character’s entrance into the mc’s static life more often that not being the inciting incident of the story rather than the reverse. in these fish out of water stories, the fish is usually the mc; she enters his world rather than the other way around, which can sometimes result in a very rigid and gender-normative outcome. in the worst of it, especially where the mc is purely designed to act as a placeholder for the reader and lacks personality, her character development is mainly to fill in an emotional/nurturing caretaker position while the male love interest takes on the role of an actual protagonist (i.e. he is more active in driving the story and shaping his environment, gets all the action moments, his inner world is more respected than hers and hers just completely hinges on his). so all of this just results in a one sided (or at least one sided portrayal of a) relationship… which isn’t that appealing imo

so one of the standouts with tot even as they ascribe by some usual tropes is rosa herself. the usual mold of many otome mcs is the yamato nadeshiko, the japanese ideal of femininity: virtuous, gentle, nurturing, demure, and humble. rosa has elements of this but the thing is she’s also a really really excellent attorney even just starting out. to be good at that kind of job requires keeping a sharp and rational head, being confrontational and persuasive, and asserting yourself at the opportune moments — traits which are all traditionally considered masculine.

marius is an artist. he’s a ceo w a sharp business acumen, intelligence, and even cunning but when he chose a path, he picked up a paintbrush first. he appreciates aesthetics, ideals and the inner life of people (as expressed through his art) more than ambition or mind games suited to running a business, his primary motivation is derived from his relationships with his family and supporting the nxx, and he’s running the company for duty and others’ sake rather than his own. if anything marius fits a caretaker mold more than miss “married to her work” does

as for the wealth disparity, it’s more a source of exasperation and potential point of conflict than it is a reason for her deference or a source of attraction. if it helps with the mission fine but she'll snark about it and his privilege lol which is a nice departure from the usual rich man/everywoman route

so whenever marius and rosa interact, they feel like they’re on a level playing field not just in their relationship but in how the story treats them. they feel like two young adults trying to make sense of their early 20s, their careers, and all the upheaval happening in their city. another notable significance is that marius is the only love interest that she's consistently antagonistic with (playfully...most of the time). she has nothing but respect for artem and vyn and while she'll playfully rib and tease luke as close friends do, marius's irreverence and put-on rich boy smugness always has her geared towards attack mode to bring him down a peg just in case.

the antagonism is mostly a front and for jokes but how often do we get an mc who’s just prickly and ill-disposed? that fact that he inspires a less “likable” side from her adds a unique aspect to their relationship. mainly since it also highlights a layer in the mc’s personality that makes her feel like her own person with agency and her own opinions rather than a passive audience surrogate. the fact that he’s also younger and still obviously trying to figure things out for himself also adds a nice slight “noona romance” vibe in disrupting the usual power dynamics. in this sense marius has to work a little harder than the others for her to consider him as a long term romantic partner or even at least acknowledge her genuine admiration of him. she wouldn’t poke if she knew he couldn’t take it but because they keep things so facetious i don’t think she realizes the extent of how much he deeply desires her respect and esteem as an equal. they both know that his devil may care rich playboy persona is just an act but after playing the part for so long i honestly think that as confident as he is, marius also can’t help his fear in what being completely open with her would entail. not that she’d be fooled enough to buy the facade like everyone else but that she’d see right through him and still find nothing in him that she would want. because while he truly doesn’t care how others judge him, she’s a different story

yet in the same vein i don’t think he can resist it either. it’s interesting that they have this contradictory dichotomy of being very comfortable w one another but also still holding each other at a certain distance. he wants her to get to know him truly even as he’s reluctant to show his entire hand. they talk seriously about their goals and worries and couch it around lightheartedness and their usual rapport. his feelings come through the most w his love language (guess which one) which we might just easily dismiss as him being materialistic but i think genuinely is his truest way of showing affection

the first time they met i think marius kept flirting and making her flustered because it’s his habit. he liked her well enough and probably didn’t consciously realize when his feelings became more serious. upon getting to know her and vice versa, he kept it up because he doesn’t have much faith in retaining her attention without it. the teasing and come-ons for the most part are just a guard. he figures it’s easier for him to deal with if she doesn't like his act since it’s technically not him. yet he desires her focus so he’ll risk instigating her exasperation bc it’s the most sure fire way to get her to keep looking at him. if he gets to be in her head even as “that annoying ceo”, he’ll take it because it means that he’s become an indelible part of her life. additionally im sure he just likes the act of teasing her because of how many yes mans and players w agendas he must have witnessed his father and brother deal with secondhand and how much more now that he’s the one facing them.

he likes that she’s kind of rude and upfront with him. it makes him feel like a normal person and less a means to an end or a tabloid subject. it’s fun to tease her and be pushy bc it must be hard to find friends to be yourself with and let loose when you’re uncertain about people’s motivations, on whether they’re there for your money or for you. i gather maybe outside of his family and a few close allies/friends, being raised in the spotlight and becoming the self-proclaimed rebel must have been lonely in ways that marius probably hides and affects w that impetuous and carefree attitude. and rosa who couldn’t give a shit about wealth or influence gives him that opportunity to be marius without the von hagen name attached

and on rosa’s side, i think she keeps her distance and pretends that hes like a pesky little brother because she recognizes that realistically any relationship with him would pose a lot of challenges that she doesn’t know if she’s equipped to handle. rosa works as an attorney and joins the nxx because she wants to defend people and fight injustice. her coming to the spotlight is just a side effect from working high profile cases (which markedly enough really only begins with marius’s case) and not something she actively sought for. witnessing the ways in which wealth and fame can inspire ugly behaviors in people, i don’t blame her for being wary in potentially entering a world like that esp with her relationships at the scrutiny of basically everyone else but her and marius. she’s genuinely attracted to him and his flirting is frustrating because it can be annoying but she construes it as just him messing around and trying to get a reaction from her as usual. i think a big part of her believes that marius isn’t genuinely interested in her as a serious partner and that he’s mainly acting out of habit (which may have been initially true). and being such a career woman (and also bc of how the game logistically functions in that rosa’s desires for the men can’t be made explicit except maybe outside of sr/ssr cards and personal stories lest the devs be accused of favoritism), she is pretty oblivious or at least willfully in denial w the guys’ romantic designs and interest on her and vice versa. so rosa’s investment in her side of things is mainly expressed in between the lines

and what they tell us is that she does know who he is. she can see him and cares for him even as she’s shutting him down in the same breath. she pays attention to what he does and what his actions tell her beyond the front of his words. she recognizes the ways he might be shackled by virtue of his position (and somewhat by his own volition) and insists that he’s “on the verge of breaking free” i really don’t think she’d have smug, flirty and passionate marius any other way even if it meant having to deal w some bad pick up lines forever

anyway i love them. i think their relationship inherently opens up a lot of possibilities that can be interesting for future conflicts and character growth. plus they’re a lot of fun

#reply.#anon.#tears of themis

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littlekatleaf · 3 years ago

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The Dreams in Which I'm Dying

Well wtf, it's a new fandom for me. Unexpected! I started watching D/imension20 RPGs and fell in love with F/abian Seacaster and G/arthy O'Brien from F/antasy H/igh and P/irates of L/eviathan. This takes place 20 years after the events of the games.

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying Are the best I’ve ever had. ~ Tears for Fears, Mad World

It begins with nightmares - dark, heavy things Fabian doesn’t remember on waking. At least, not the first few nights. He’s left with nothing more than vague shadows and a lingering sense of unease. Everything seems wrong - his apartment simultaneously too big and claustrophobically small. He’s suffused with restlessness. He knows something’s coming, like a squall brewing just beyond the horizon. He might not be able to see the gathering clouds, but feels the barometric pressure plummeting.

At first he attempts to dance out of the way - to dodge and evade - but the dread wraps around him like his own battle sheet, tangling him tight. He tries to ignore the tension singing along his shoulders, the constant twist in his gut. It’s nothing, he tells himself, less than nothing. There’s no time for it to be something. Rumor has it the ship carrying one of the last pirates of the Crimson Claw will reach the mouth of Leviathan in mere days. If he’s going to meet it, he needs to pull together a party. Barely enough time remains to cement plans once he knows the group’s strengths and weaknesses.

As he paces his living room, trying to outrun the apprehension, Fabian’s eye is caught by a piece of red string, like Riz always used in his conspiracy boards. In that instant he longs for them. The Bad Kids. No matter how many years passed since any of them were kids, it’s still at the heart of who they are. (Isn’t it?) They fit together in their roles. Like that movie Kristen made them all watch once - a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess and a criminal. The others had bickered good naturedly over roles that night - specifically who was the basket case. Kristen joked it was Gilear. Ragh said it was her. Fabian didn't need to argue because he knew the truth - Riz was the brain, Gorgug the athlete, Adaine the princess, Fig the criminal, Kristen the saint. Himself the basket case. Even in all the intervening years, he’s never found a group that connects as well as they had, before they all went their separate ways. Even if they hadn’t lost touch, none of the others adventure anymore. In their absence he needs to choose alternatives, like he always does, attempting to fill the holes they left behind - and failing.

He picks up his crystal, turning it over in his hands. The group chat is saved, they are all still members, but no one has used it in years. Maybe he’s wrong; maybe he needs to let them go.

He knows there’s no time for self-indulgence. But he still stalls, the trepidation casting a fog of doubt over every option. He cannot decide on even one person to trust. Perhaps this time he should go alone. He can defeat one single pirate himself. The rest - crew and spoils alike - is irrelevant. The Maelstrom’s Maw will likely bring in the boat and then he can attack. He rubs his forehead against a growing headache and puts the decision off again.

Two nights pass, with only the lightest veil of sleep and even that torn by disquiet. The intervening days feel equally foggy with a mix of exhaustion and dread. Fabian drags himself through the necessary tasks by his fingernails until he’s done everything he can without a crew. A crew on which he still has not managed to settle. In the midst of circling the problem for the five hundredth, or five thousandth, time his crystal flashes an alert. The ship’s been sighted just a few nautical miles off Harroway Bay and will reach Leviathan before dawn. He’s waited too long, he realizes. It will be a solo adventure, then. Nothing else for it.

Fabian knows, almost from the moment he engages, that he’s made a deep mistake attempting the attack this way. Though he comes upon the pirate in the dead of night, alone as planned, he hadn’t considered that the pirate’s shipmates might still be within earshot. His blade only crosses the pirate’s once before he hears heavy boots closing fast.

The pirate thrusts and he manages to parry, but only just. His body feels strange and disconnected, as though he’s a half-beat behind in the dance, perpetually off-step. The pirate presses his advantage; Fabian retreats. Suddenly there’s a flash of light on another drawn sword and several more pirates surround him. At his best he can handle eight, maybe ten. He is not at his best, and light from the streetlamp falls on fifteen.

The pirate grins. “Yer goin’ down, boy.”

“Not a boy anymore.” At least he’ll die in battle, and if he’s very lucky he’ll take this scourge to hell with him. Make his papa proud.

“That remains to be seen,” another says.

The battle is fierce. Swords clash, lunge and dodge, strike-parry-riposte, movements Fabian knows in his sleep, but something is wrong. His body won’t obey. His lungs ache and he can’t catch his breath. Sweat drips into his eye, burning. And then - an opening - the pirate attacking leaves his flank unguarded and Fabian darts in fast - too fast to pull back when he realizes it’s a feint.

I’m fucked, he has time to think, as the pirate whirls. A sharp blow cracks across his elbow, his fingers go numb and his sword falls, clattering to the cobblestone. One of the crew kicks the back of his knees and he stumbles forward and drops. He grabs for his sword, but just as his hand closes around it, the point of the pirate’s sword is at his throat. Should have known it would end this way. Alone. On Leviathan. Fitting for it to be here, tonight - on the anniversary. The way it should have ended if he hadn’t run like a coward, abandoning Alistair to Captain James. Fabian fumbles in his pocket for his crystal, wishing for just enough time to send a last message to the Bad Kids. “Do it,” he says from between gritted teeth.

The pirate barks a laugh, but shakes his head. “Ain’t worth the world o’ hurt that would bring down on me head, boy. Chungledown Bim’s a right devil and yer marked as his. Can’t let ya follow for another go at me, though this has been a delight.”

A brilliant flash of pain blinds him. The crystal slides through his fingers. He falls… and falls… and falls…

through ropes that burn his skin and do nothing to slow his speed and his body hits water that closes over his head like he’s been swallowed whole and still he falls through freezing darkness until the ocean parts and he falls through fire and the flames crackle and whisper - What will you tell the Captain when you meet him in Hell? Have you written your name on the face of the world, Fabian? No, you have written nothing. Nothing to be remembered by. Even your friends have forgotten you. How does it feel to be a failure of a pirate and a failure of a friend? the whisper turns to choking smoke and

Fabian coughs himself awake, lungs aching like he’s been breathing water and smoke, but he still lays where he’d fallen, in some Four Castles back alley. His body’s not been hijacked. Not dropped here by imps. He blinks up at the sky for a long moment, struggling to orient himself. The sky is heavy with clouds, hiding even a sliver of moon. Fat drops of rain pelt down, edged with ice. He blinks the water from his eye and pushes himself to his feet. Once again he staggers through the streets of Leviathan, shivering hard enough to rattle teeth. This time, however, there’s no Cathilda to wrap him in a blanket, no Hangvan to disappear into. No Kristen to slap sense back into him. He wraps his arms around himself, but the rain soaks his shirt and finds no warmth.

Those he passes take no notice of him, perhaps assuming he’s nothing more than another drunken pirate. Even so, he needs to find a place to lay low. Given enough time someone will roll him just to see if he has any coin. Or simply for the fun of it. He’s not even sure, at this moment, that he could defend himself against a single assailant. His head aches where the pirate hit him and his throat is unaccountably raw. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he sneezes. Once, twice, thrice, smothered in the sleeve of his shirt. He always sneezes in threes. Riz teased him mercilessly about it.

“If you’d just sneeze like a normal person, instead of those pinchy things, you’d be done in one, Fabiahn,” Riz would say, drawing his name out like his elvish grandfather did.

“It’s called being polite, The Ball,” he’d reply. “And what do you know about normal?”

“About as much as you.”

They’d laugh together and Fabian’s embarrassment would ease. He would give anything for Riz to be laughing with him now.

Suddenly a door slams open and a wash of warm yellow light spills over the ground in front of him. He glances up. Maybe Kristen sent Cassandra to watch over him, because his meandering path has brought him to the Gold Gardens. The exiting patron brushes past with a muttered curse, but Fabian barely notices. As the doors swing shut, Bob’s voice slips through, full of dream and promise. Fabian checks his pockets and breathes a sigh of relief at the comforting feel of coin.

He stands straighter, raises his chin, allowing the light to fall on his face, scars and eyepatch and all, as the Goliath guard regards him suspiciously. Though it has been some time since he’s been on Leviathan and longer since he’s sought refuge at the Gold Gardens, he trusts the reputation he’s built in the intervening years yet holds. “Good evening. I find myself in need of a room for the night,” he says. “I have payment.”

The other guard, a half-orc he vaguely recognizes from previous visits, turns to him. Her face betrays no reaction to his disheveled state. It’s likely that she’s seen worse. “Ah, Master Seacaster. Garthy O’Brien has made it known there is always room for you here. Please, enter.”

Fabian sketches a small bow. The doors swing wide and the heat that flows out and envelops him is nearly as heavenly as Bob’s voice. But the change in temperature makes his nose run. He sniffs, presses the back of his wrist against the tickling itch, but can’t stop the inevitable. He’s barely inside before he’s sneezing again and wishing for something other than his sleeve to cover with. “H’tchsh! Chh! H’tsh!” He hopes the music and general merriment of the patrons is enough to hide the slight sound, but of course he is noticed.

“Blessings, Fabian, darling. Are you ill?” Garthy touches his shoulder gently and before he can stop himself, Fabian flinches away. His skin feels too tight, even the light pressure too much sensation. They take a step back, one hand raised in a calming gesture.

“I beg your pardon, Garthy,” Fabian says, attempting his usual charming smile. He’s not sure he pulls it off, because a small frown of concern still lingers between their brows. Somehow the expression does nothing to mar their beauty; the proprietor of the Gold Gardens is exquisite as always, the few silver threads in their black dreads the only indicator of years passing. “I’m fine. Just a little chilled from the rain. And you, my friend, are a sight for sore eyes. Eye.” His mouth quirks. “Might there be a room for a traveler seeking shelter from the storm?”

Garthy considers him for a long moment, gaze intent. Fabian resists the urge to look away, to avoid scrutiny. It’ll only make them more suspicious. He concentrates on keeping his expression vaguely flirtatious, his stance loose and easy. At last Garthy gives the smallest nod, allowing him his ruse. “I have told you before, lovey, you are always welcome here. You and yours. Come.” They turn down a hallway and Fabian follows.

Bob’s voice, the rattle of dice, the din of too much conversation fade and Fabian releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The Bad Kids always stayed in a room just off the main parlor, right in the midst of the action. Fig and Gorgug would take over for the house band and practically blow the roof off. Kristen would try to outdrink that biggest pirate she could find, and usually ended up drunk-best-friends with everyone. If Tracker had to pull her out of a fight or two, well, that just kept things interesting. Ragh and Fabian would drink too much mead and take too much snuff and Ragh would challenge the wrong people to wrestling matches and Fabian would beat the wrong people at dice and sometimes fists would be thrown. Good naturedly, of course. Adaine would watch them all over the spine of a book from the Compass Points and shake her head. Sometimes she had to heal one or another of them, but she never seemed to mind. Riz would disappear into the crowd for indeterminate amounts of time, only to suddenly appear at their table with a sharp-toothed grin and clues to whatever mystery they were trying to solve that he’d gleaned from overheard conversations. Fig and Kristen, especially, never wanted the nights to end. Sometime around dawn, though, Kristen and Tracker would peel off, followed by Fig and Ayda. The rest of them shared a room, Fabian, Riz, Gorgug, and Ragh all sprawled on a huge bed while Adaine tranced on a chaise nearby. Somehow Fabian slept better those nights than before or since, even though the room was never peaceful, or silent. Ragh and Gorgug snored. Adaine muttered to herself in her trance. Riz, when he slept, was restless, taking up more room than a three and a half foot tall goblin should. When he didn’t, his pen would scratch across his notebook for hours. None of it ever bothered Fabian.

A door creaks open, startling Fabian out of his thoughts. The room Garthy offers is a small and simply furnished space, just a bed, desk, and fireplace. Fabian crosses the room to a large window and looks out over the edge of the city to the black ocean beyond. It’s still raining, drops pattering against the pane. He should say something to Garthy. Thank them for the room, make a joke about another Leviathan brawl gone badly. He can’t find the words. Any words.

“Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps a warm drink?” Garthy’s voice is quiet, as though they might be intruding.

“No, thank you,” he says. Kippers, Master Fabian? Cathilda’s voice in his head. I don’t deserve kippers. He didn’t. Doesn’t. Twenty men dead. Twenty innocent men. Worst of all, Alistair Ash. Still a child. Dead because he needed to prove that he was a true pirate, heir to his father’s fame. That he is worthy. Instead he left Alistair to the fate that should have been his. He rubs his hand over his eye as though he could rub away the ache. The failure.

Garthy whispers something Fabian doesn’t catch, and flames rise in the hearth, hot and bright, crackling cheerfully. “At least let me take your wet things,” they say. “You’re shaking.”

He hadn’t realized how cold he still feels, despite being out of the wind and rain, until Garthy points it out. He takes a breath to declare, again, that he’s fine, but a chill cascades over him, followed by several sneezes, instantly proving him wrong. “H’ngxt! Fuck. H’Ntch! Ngxt!” He straightens and Garthy offers a handkerchief. Abashed, he takes it, blows his nose. “Pardon me.” Before he can gather himself, he’s overtaken again. At least this time he has a handkerchief to mute the sound. The sneezes shiver through him hard enough to send drops of rain spattering from his hair.

“Bless you, darling.” Garthy draws him closer to the fire. With deft fingers they undress him, peeling sodden clothes from his body, then wrap him in a thick robe. He doesn’t resist, suddenly beyond exhausted. Everything feels like it’s happening at a distance. Or maybe through a pane of glass. “Come, have a lay down. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

Fabian nods, even though he’s certain things will look just the same. He barely slides between the sheets when his eye drifts closed. He feels the bed dip slightly as Garthy sits beside him and, seeking warmth, he curls close. They smell spicy and sweet, like cinnamon and sandalwood and orange blossoms. Garthy curves a hand over his forehead. It’s strangely comforting and he wants to bury his face in Garthy’s hair, but instead he drifts out and out and…

floats in a strange grey emptiness. He can only identify his surroundings by absence. No color. No sound. No touch. He thinks he lifts his hands, or tries to lift his hands, or what should be his hands, but there’s nothing. He tries to look down, what he might assume is down, only to find no body. Nothing. It’s like the Nightmare Forest, but worse because they defeated the Nightmare King. They defeated Kalina. Which means this must be real. This nought. Of course no one reaches out… you don’t exist.You never existed. You are not even memory. You are a nonentity. A nullity. He opens his mouth to argue, but there’s no mouth, no vocal cords, no lungs, no breath. No words. No thoughts. Just deep, endless cold. Bone aching cold, if he had bones.

“...safe…You’re all right. Wake up, Fabian, love.” Garthy’s voice coalesces from the cold, at first sounding sharp as ice breaking. But they know his name, beckon him back into form by shaping the word. “Come on, darling. You’re dreaming.”

“Should’ve left me; felt better there. Nothing hurts when you don’t have a body,” he mumbles, and even though he has vocal cords again, he sounds nothing like himself. He clears his throat, sniffs.

Garthy laughs, low and kind. “Let me help you feel better, here in your body.” They cup his cheek gently, then urge him up and through a door to a bathing chamber.

A large bathtub stands in the center of the room, steam rising in soft curls. It is surrounded with dozens of candles and in their light Garthy glows, irises and tattoos molten gold. Fabian reaches for them, hesitantly. As if touching them might dim their shine. They smile tenderly, allowing him to trace the Zajiri script, the flowers and leaves with one tentative finger. He wonders what the writing might mean. Their skin is soft under Fabian’s own calloused hands. He longs for Garthy to wrap their arms around him, to hold him close until his shivering stops, until he’s finally warm. He doesn’t know how to ask.

Instead he moves back, putting a bit of distance between them. “I’m not w…” he starts to say, but an unexpected set of sneezes interrupts and he only just manages to pull the handkerchief from his robe pocket. “Ht’ngxt! Heh...ihh… Nxgt! H’tchh!”

“Not well?” Garthy suggests, steadying him. “Blessings.”

Heat rises in Fabian’s cheeks and he coughs a laugh. “That either. But no.” He gestures broadly, including the room, the bath, Garthy themself. “Not worth this.”

Garthy tilts their head with a puzzled frown. “Oh, lovey, of course you are.” They press one finger to Fabian’s lips before he can continue arguing. “Shh. It’s all right.” They take Fabian’s elbow, guiding him into the bath.

Fabian sinks into the heat with a deep sigh as his muscles begin to relax. He slides down, submerging himself completely in warm darkness. The water closes over his face; he rests his head on the bottom of the tub, and the only thing he hears is the thump of his own heart in his ears, still beating, beating, beating. At last his breath runs out and he surfaces with a gasp.

Gathy’s pulled a stool up beside the bath and as Fabian wipes water out of his eye, they wet a cloth and begin to wash his back, humming quietly. The soap smells of eucalyptus and peppermint, cool and clean. Fabian shivers once, and only slowly eases into the touch, closing his eye as Garthy washes his hair, gently working his fingers over his scalp. A memory rises, unbidden - himself, in the bath, he can’t be more than five and he’s sobbing. His papa is away, his mama asleep in her room even though it’s not even dark outside and he’s sick and scared. But then Cathilda’s there, as she always is, and she’s cleaning him up and humming a lullaby. Tears rise now, before he can stop them, dripping into the water.

“What’s distressing you, love?” Garthy asks.

It takes him several minutes to gather his thoughts; they feel ephemeral as clouds floating through his mind. “It’s been twenty years, Garthy. Shouldn’t it have faded?” He coughs, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “I still see them, you know. My father’s warlocks.” He presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. Breathe, he tells himself.

Garthy hums a listening noise.

“I shouldn’t have gone alone that night. I just wanted a moment in Crow’s Keep - we’d gone there together, my papa and I. When I was little. It was the one time Mama got angry at him, for bringing me to Leviathan, when he wasn’t supposed to be interacting with pirates. But he’d taken me up to watch the sun rise. He said he’d bring me to the top of the world, that we could touch the clouds. If I was lucky, I might even bring some home in my pockets…

“He gave me cotton candy, told me it was one he’d harvested himself. I’d never imagined clouds tasted so sweet…” he licks his lips, remembering how the candy had melted on his tongue, just like a rain cloud.

“I thought, maybe… somehow… if I spoke to him from the top of the world, he might hear me.” Fabian laughs at himself, coughs on a sob but manages to swallow it back. “Of course, Papa wasn’t listening. He was busy taking over Hell and selling spells to pirates. Always on to a bigger adventure, even in death.

“When the warlocks came, I let myself get swept up. Figuratively, as well as literally. I told them about Papa. About what I’d done… and it wasn’t enough. I killed him and it wasn’t enough.” He takes a ragged breath and Garthy rubs his back in slow circles. “I thought we could take Captain James. I thought I could take Captain James. It would make up for… everything.” He sucks in another breath, on the edge of desperation. He can’t get enough air. When he blinks, he feels Whitclaw’s tentacles on his face, cold fingers gripping him tight, raw hatred pulsing in the air between them.

“It went so fast. So fast. If I didn’t run… if I didn’t… he would have killed me… with the others. I didn’t stop to think, I didn’t even grab Alistair and he was fighting for me. I abandoned him… and I didn’t die, but he did. Because I fucked up.” Fabian sits in silence for several minutes, jaw clenched, struggling to breathe and not cry.

“I thought the guilt would fade,” he finally says, voice rough and not much above a whisper. “I thought the good I’ve done since would make up for it. I thought the adventures I had with the Bad Kids would make up for it. But it hasn’t. It doesn’t. And they’re gone… I thought killing the last of Whitclaw’s men would be penance. But I fucked that up, too.”

The only sound for a long moment is the rain on the roof, thunder rolling in the distance. Then Fabian takes a breath like he’s about to dive into the ocean and turns to face Garthy. “Am I forgivable?”

“Oh my darling Fabian. Of course you are. You are already forgiven.” They lean forward and brush the lightest kiss across his lips. “Yes, dire mistakes were made. And you have repented of those mistakes, and made reparations. You did not follow in your father’s footsteps; you found your own way. You have made a good man of yourself. You help those who are in need. You do not take advantage of anyone. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. Tales of your deeds are not spoken of as widely as Captain Bill Seacaster, but I have heard them nonetheless. Be proud of who you have become, Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And you should know that Alistair Ash lives again.”

A warm breeze whirls through the room and the candles suddenly go out. It’s as though the light has been transmuted into a seed of hope in Fabian, gold as the irises of Garthy’s eyes. Back in bed, Fabian curls into Garthy and they wrap their arms around him, holding tight until his trembling passes.

#snezfic

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Tattered Remains of Broken Dreams (Yours, not Mine)

This is based off a prompt I came across. It’s a one-shot. @virgil-is-a-cutie and @thyladyanput. Hope you two like lit.

The pieces were scattered across her desk. Marinette had known something was up the moment she stepped into the classroom. Everyone had gone quiet. A few had glared at her. Some had snickered. And they all watched as she walked to her desk.

Nathanial had tried to wave her down; shaking his head with sorrow in his eyes. He had gotten there a few minutes before she did.

It took her a few seconds to recognize what the torn pieces of what had been weeks of hard work.

Once she realized what it was, Marinette wondered if it made her a bad person that she wanted to smile. Because while she honestly wanted to feel bad, all she felt was a relief. Like ten tons of weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.

Marinette looked at her desk, pulled out her phone, took a picture, and then sent several texts.

Then she shrugged, tossed the mess into a nearby trashcan, and pulled out a fresh sketchbook.

The other students, the ones who had waited for a reaction, were stunned. Where were the tears? The rage? Anything?

“Don’t you care?” Alya yelled, frustrated with her ex-bestie. “Your sketchbook was destroyed.”

Marinette glanced up at her, “No. A sketchbook was destroyed. My sketchbook with all my worthwhile designs in safely locked away at my house. You all,” She looked around the classroom; memorizing every face. Lila looked particularly bewildered because she had wanted to see the Asian girl cry. “ Destroyed my school sketchbook; the one I use for school-related events designs from various classmates, plans for birthday parties, and the like.”

“But you worked so hard,” Rose said.

Mylene nodded, “You worked in it every day for months.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Marinette shrugged. “For you.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“What do you mean for us, Dudette?” Nino asked.

Marinette sighed, “The sketchbook was filled with all the projects that were either requested by people in this room or were for people in this room. By destroying it, I can no longer do any of those projects,” She explained. “I did it in my free time. As my main work schedule is full of commission I’m actually being paid for. I don’t have time to redesign or remake those sketches. So I sent texts to Bustier, Luka, and anyone else involved that I can no longer work on their specific project.”

The other students blinked.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “That means I can’t do the costumes for the school play,” Mylene and Sabrina gasped. “No new outfits for Kitty Section.” Rose and the other members of the band got tears in their eyes. “I can’t do the set design for Nino’s next gig.” The boy in questioned paled as he had been counting on Marinette’s design skills to wow the crowd. “The new design layout for the Ladyblog is canceled.” Alya clenched her fists. “The costume for Mylene’s short film is too. I had to back out of the school fundraiser. Let the Coach know I can no longer do any banner work. Or design the new team uniforms.” Alix and Kim’s mouths dropped. “Max’s Game-Con costume is out of the question now.” Max visibly deflated. “Ivan’s mom’s gift for her birthday is out too; pity that dress was so beautiful.” Ivan gasped. “I can plan any birthday parties or make custom cakes. The charity work you wanted my help with, I can’t do. My idea for the school trip to New York city is canceled as all my contacts and trip itinerary ideas are gone. I let Bustier know that I’ll be too busy to be class president so she’ll have to assign someone else the role. The dresses for the school dance you girls requested, I can’t do anymore.” She shrugged again. “Oh well.”

“But, but, Luka!” Juleka cried, worried about how her brother will react.

Rose was crying. So was Mylene.

“Can’t you redo it,” Sabrina asked. “The drama department was counting on us.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes. Us? Sabrina nor anyone else had lifted a finger to help Marinette come up with idea for the costumes for the school play. “Afraid not. There’s not enough time; to resketch everything and then actually make it. I have to focus on the designs I’m being actually being paid for. They come first.”

Alix slammed her hands on the table, “We only did it because you were bullying Lila!”

There were nods.

“Yeah, girl,” Alya said. “We just wanted you to know what being bullied was like. We didn’t know our stuff was in there.”

“First I never bullied Lila,” Marinette said and before anyone could protest, she continued. “Second of all, I was bullied by Chloe for years, why would you think I would ever bully anyone else,” She looked directly at Nino when she asked this. Her childhood friend. His eyes widened and he looked away. “Lastly, why should I go to the trouble and take time out of my already swamped schedule to redesign projects I did for you that you destroyed. The way I see it, it’s your own fault.”

The entire class went silent again. Each mind weighing the consequences of their actions.

“Nathanial,” Marinette said. The redhead boy looked up. “You don’ t have to worry. You paid for your work; it was a commission. It will arrive on schedule; even if I have to work all night for a week to redo it.”

Nathanial’s face lit up, “Thank you, Marc’s going to love it.”

“You’re redoing his work,” Alya screeched. “That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t destroy all her hard work, so yes it is,” Nathaniel snapped back at the girl before Marinette could. “Not only that but I paid for my stuff. Something none of you have ever even offered to do.”

Some of the other students looked ashamed. It was true.

“They were custom made designs,” Marinette explained. “Any other designer would make you pay hundreds for all that works. Thousands, if it was a fully trained professional, right Adrien?”

Adrien swallowed hard. He hadn’t been involved in actively destroying the bluenette’s sketchbook but he hadn’t stopped it either. The blond nodded, “My father would charge a lot. His last custom piece was sold for five grand, and it was just a simple pants suit.”

“What about your mom, Chloe?” Marinette asked the blond who had arrived mere seconds after Marinette and had stayed by the door to watch the fireworks.

Chloe gave the class a vindictive smirk, “For the dresses for the school dance, fifteen hundred dollars apiece; more if she had to hand sow them herself. For the rest of the work, combined, may be less than twenty grand if she cut you a deal. Anyway between ten and fifteen grand when she was still at Marinette’s level. Shame.”

Marinette shook her head, “Fifteen thousand dollars of work you were going to get for free, gone.”

Most of her classmates' faces had drained of color at the price, at realization of how big of a screw up they made. They had no idea just how much work Marinette did.

Lila was seething because it would be too hard to turn this around.

“I’m sorry,” Rose rushed to say. “We’re sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Marinette shrugged. “There’s nothing to do. And now that I know that there are people in this class who can’t keep their hands to themselves, all free commissions are now canceled.” Gasps filled the room. “From now on, if you want some work done; you’ll go to my website and request a consultation like all my other customers. Keep in mind, for custom designs, depending the size of the job, you’ll have to book anywhere between a month and six months in advance. Www.MDC-designs.com.”

Chloe walked to the back of the classroom and sat down next to the Bluenette, “You’re still doing my dress for the dance, though right?”

“Chloe, you did a consult a year early and paid well in advance,” Marinette smiled. “You’re dress is done. You can do your final fitting anytime.”

Miss Bustier walked into class with a smile that quickly turned to a frown at the sight of Marinette, “Oh Marinette, I was so sad when you told me you had to back out of being class president and planning the school trip and, well, so many other things. You had such wonderful ideas. How on earth you got us on the list for a tour of Stark Industries, the Gotham times, Marvel Studios, and Vogue; I’ll never know. It’s a pity that can’t happen now. All canceled, you said?” The teacher shook her head. Totally unaware of the sheer horror her words at unleashed in her students. “It’s a shame about what happened to your sketchbook. Do you have any idea what happened?”

Marinette just leaned back in her chair, “Not a clue.”

That time, she smirked.

The new few weeks were horrible for the students of Miss Bustier’s class. As they all scrambled to design, plan, and actually make/do their own projects.

Sabrina and Mylene had realized quickly they had no designing skills and were forced to tell the drama department that the promised costumes weren’t coming. Aurora, leader of the Drama club, and Marinette s friend had heard about what happened from Nathianal and spread the news to the other club members. Most were artists too and knew they would’ve died if something like that were happening. The ones that weren’t couldn’t believe they had been getting all that for free and a bunch of idiots ruined it.

Alix and Kim found themselves participating in a lot more school fundraisers to raise money for the new uniforms and to pay for all the team trips to the away games.

Luka had been disappointed in his bandmates and his sister and had threatened to go solo.

Alya was forced to do more babysitting to help pay for new website design and a dress for the dance.

Nino had no clue just how hard the set design was. And ended up nearly causing a fire at his gig.

Lila had no clue on where to start for planning a trip as fabulous as the one Bustier made Marinette’s sound.

Birthdays went without cake, had only cheap decorations from the store, and immaculate gift that had come to be expected every year.

The entire class, apart from three, felt the pressure of planning the school dance, fundraising for the field trips, affording their dresses for the dance, on top of all their other many after school activities.

No one would bother to mention just how badly their actual school work suffered; there was barely any time to study for tests or do their homework. Grades dropped. Parents were furious.

Alix nearly lost her spot on the team. Kim did lose his spot until his grades were brought back up. Alya was forced to stop her work with the Ladyblog until her grade improved. Nino’s parents forbid him from doing any more gigs. Mylene’s dad stopped her movie work altogether. Sabrina’s dad just straight up grounded his daughter so she could have time to relax and study when she had the time. Ivan’s mom actually started tutoring him. Max’s grades didn’t drop but his stress levels increased so much his parents pulled him out of all his extracurriculars.

Luka had no choice but to go solo as his bandmates rarely showed up for practice. It was fine, though, Marinette got Jagged to work with him on a demo album. In exchange for a new few new pieces of wardrobe…

For Fang.

It got so bad even the headstrong Alya burst into tears at the pressure one day. The stress was too much. Some kids found themselves constantly being late, never getting enough sleep, and were constantly worried and checking their phone just in case something went wrong And somehow something always went wrong. A few kids started having anxiety attacks. Relationships and friendship suffered as no one had time to talk or spend any time together as foretime was a rarity. Mylene and Ivan broke up. So did Nino and Alya, who got into a fight so bad in front of the school, that Nino left in tears.

Hawkmoth had a field day with it all. Until he started noticing all the akumas came from his son’s class, and that his son was looking too good either. Gabriel Agrest may be a heartless son of a bitch but he wasn’t a complete monster.

…Plus the Akumas were all worthless anyway. Most were sleep akuma who just put people to sleep. A couple was literally dedicated to forcing people to plan their days better. There was an akuma that literally made everyone around them feel less stressful. Ladybug didn’t even bother to show up defeat that one. Hawkmoth just pulled it back eventually.

Marinette watched it all; not with joy or happiness as her classmates' misery, just a sense of relief that for once it wasn’t her. Everyone noticed how Marinette was nearly never late anymore. She glowed with all the sleep she was finally making up. Her grades while never anything less than good improved dramatically. Her parents were happy their daughter was so much more relaxed and happier. It was like she was a new person.

She even found she had more time to not only design stuff for herself but actually make it. Her dress for the school dance was going to be amazing.

…If there was a school dance. With the way, things were going and the miserable looks of her ex-friends face when anyone brought it up, there was a good chance there wouldn’t be one.

A week after Marinette had that thought, the school play was canceled. Some sports teams were forced to forfeit away games due to budgeting issues; losing their number one spot.

It wasn’t long after that Rose came up to Marinette’s lunch table. Chloe and Nathaniel eyed the pixie-cut blond with suspicion.

“I’m sorry,” Rose whispered. “I didn’t know how much you did. How hard you worked. You did so much for us, and we never even realized. You must think we’re monsters.”

Marinette shook her head, “. I still don’t understand why you would do something so horrible as destroying my private property but I think don’t your monsters. Just not very good friends,” She frowned. “Not friends at all, actually”

Rose winced at the truthful words. Now that she didn’t have time to hang off Lila’s every word, it was easy to hear just how ridiculous all her stories were. She nodded, “I requested a consult on your website. Based on your prices, I think I finally enough money for an MDC original dress for the school dance.”

So someone in class could learn. Most of the class still muttered under their breaths whenever Marinette walked by. Not willing to take the blame for their own mistakes. Though she did see Alya casting her pitiful glances every now and then as if Marinette would suddenly take mercy and start doing everything for the class again.

“I’m glad to hear,” Marinette smiled. “I think you’ll look great in a lovely turquoise; really make those eyes pop.”

#ml salt #ml salt fic #marinette dupen chang #Marienette Dupain Cheng #Marinette deserves better #class salt #alya salt #adrien agreste

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thegatesofinfinitespace · 3 years ago

Note

Hi this is a follow up to Willow's ask but it's time for you to ACTUALLY talk about Mirror Res and how it relates to those points you made about the game canon cause I didn't see enough content about Our Boys in that answer <3

((YOU GUYS ASDASDASDADSAAAAAA--

Okay, basics!

Major Characters: Seraph is the Copy X. Crimson is the sleeping hero known as Zero. Ciel and Cial are two separate entities, Cial is Seraph’s creator. Ciel never made a Copy X.

We pretty much approached the story like thus: what if Zero was the hero for Neo Arcadia, and the Copy of X made by Ciel/Cial was the hero for the reploid resistance?

Omega, Weil, the Four Guardians, Elpizo, and all of the reploids like Alouette and Cerveau would stay the same as their in-game counterparts (though their dialogue and roles get a little interesting since the concept of Zero and X do not change despite the roles being swapped).

[[Note from my future self: I go on tangents a lot oops but chaos will be under the readmore--]]

Tldr warning straight up: these are all convoluted notes and... kinda separate but idk how to make them less convoluted.

Ciel and Cial are different people, because Copy X has always taken a leader-like role in the original game, and also it adds for an extra foil to a Copy X that has chosen, albeit clumsily, to properly follow the role of X, but still having to fight Neo Arcadia and what it stands for (and the fact that it’s human-run which OOF). This also leads of course into my theory of how less insecure Copy X would be about being, well, a copy of X, because he has X to walk him through everything instead of him having to fill a role (though he still does, because people still rely on him, he just, gets to be himself and not have to be X for him to accomplish his goals. Th-This is why that one Bad End AU is so tasty to me tho and that’s a tangent for another time--)

Also I’d like to point out that as much as I gripe on her, I do like Ciel as a character, she’s just a little dumb and naive despite being smart. That’s why they’re separate, both that and for Cial to be a foil to Seraph.

...look I really like my foils okay-- Seraph and Crimson are foils. Seraph and X are foils. Crimson and Omega are foils. Seraph and Cial are foils. Ciel and Cial are foils. You get a foil and YOU get a foil and YOU GET A FOIL-- This is majorly because Kara and I like writing character stories and building worlds around them than just regular world building.

The role of Ciel/Cial is still important to the story. Cial functions as a stand in for humanity that lives within Neo Arcadia as a whole-- she’s egotistical and self-absorbed, choosing her own (and her own species’) survival before that of anything else; pridefully taking in her humanity while scorning and tearing down that of the machines that feel so much like her. In her own way, she and the other humans living there see reploids as tools and nothing more-- they exist for convenience and convenience alone.

Compared to Seraph and Crimson, Cial is irrational and unpredictable, sometimes quite literally picking things on appearance before functionality. Ciel, though she has not been brought up much, was the part of humanity that wishes to advance and grow, choosing to attempt to find ways to fix the environment and survive off of it prior to her disappearance. (It actually was not Cial’s fault btw before you jump on that train lol.)

Cial in relation to Seraph specifically is that she is uncompromising in her opinion that humanity should be placed above reploids, and he-- much like X-- wishes to find equality between the two species, no matter how long that may take. There’s another thing that makes them both foils to each other, but that is spoilers and I’m not sharing. ;P

Seraph compared to X, well there’s a lot of obvious ones, like how rash Ser is sometimes, how he’s sometimes a little too aggressive when it comes to people he cares about, and how irritable his personality can be. He’s trying to fill in X’s footsteps, while also trying very hard to be someone different, even going so far as to change his name and appearance. This is rather different than the OG Copy X, but makes more sense with the environment that he’s in-- why would he be trying so hard to be X if he had contact with X, and had no need to be X anymore?

I!!!! Will not explain the foils between Crimson and Omega, that’s for Kara to reveal lol.

Tldr, a lot of the story focuses more on how the characters bounce off of each other and also is heavy on reploid/human relationships, and how they treat each other, more than the games themselves. It does follow the timeline of MMZ-MMZ4, but there will be some differences, and even some plots mashed together just a little bit. (It’s a little cause I like exploring the politics of a world like this.)

I think the only other thing that really stands out to me that we haven’t really touched on, is the presence of the Mythos Armor-- the two Mythos Armors of X and Zero.

The Mythos Armors were made for X and Zero specifically, as they sync with the heroes’ cores, and thus cannot be used by anyone else. These Armors increase their physical output like processing power, strength and speed, and interact with cyberelves in a unique way: any cyberelves linked immediately have the bonus of behaving like Satellite Elves, even if they weren’t originally intended as such.

Zero’s armor, however, was modified after Zero’s original body and the re-written Dark Elf were stolen, instead making a new body simply around the armor instead of starting from scratch (this is!!! Why Crimson’s hair is silver instead of the regular gold, it’s simply the Mythos Armor he was built into). He was then put to sleep after Omega and Weil were defeated, and you know the rest.

As for the reason why Seraph both can and actually can’t use the Mythos Armor of X is... because his core and signal don’t perfectly line up with X’s, though the rest of his body is an exact copy of X’s own.

He can use the armor, and wear it, but the features of the Mythos like the increased speed, strength and processing power are restricted to a limited amount of time. When he surpasses the limit, his armor will deactivate it, and if he pushes it, his body will go on lock-down to prevent overheating and internal damage for a period of time. The function of converting the cyberelves to Satellite Elves is completely inaccessible, and when used, they’re gone forever. (This is why he never has cyberelves equipped, and actively grew anxious when Hawke linked with his systems-- he could kill Hawke if Hawke’s abilities are activated.)

And... yeah! I think this is getting stupid long so I’ll slow down here. People are always free to ask more about our universes lol. Thanks for sticking with my rambling. ^v^))

#outofinfinity'sreach #;azure entity #overx #~crimson wraith~#[Headcanons: Seraph]#[Mirror Resistance: Headcanons]

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thebadchoicemachine · 4 years ago

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SBI HadesTown AU That Lives In My head Rent Free

(in fact I probably pay it to live there)

Links at the end under the cut.

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Starring:

• Dream, George, and Sapnap as The Fates • Philza as Hermes • Wilbur as Persephone • Technoblade as Hades • Tommy as Eurydice

and

• Tubbo as Orpheus

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Changes to the story -

Instead of spouses, Wilbur and Techno are estranged brothers.

Instead of lovers, Tommy and Tubbo are best friends.

The focus is still on restoring balance to the world but through familiar and platonic love instead of romantic. Also, the reason the world is so bad is a more social crisis (some people work too much while others can’t work at all) instead of a natural one (the seasons being wack.)

It takes place during a seething summer drought rather than a frozen cropless winter but its still the same tune of spring/fall disappearing because the the world being out of tune.

Character Changes -

+ Philza is an old god. He’s not weaker nor stronger than Wilbur/Techno, just fills up a very different role. He’s god of history, of legends, of simple stories and narration. He’s very human compared to most gods, some theorize perhaps he straight up IS human in some way shape or form. He lives a human life to meet people and collect their lives and stories and appreciate them. He can’t really interfere as more than a mortal man but still just tries to give as many happy endings as he can.

+ Tommy’s a scrappy lost child. His problem is similar to Eurydice but a little inverted. Rather than learning to trust people he needs to learn to value them. He’s no issue with interacting with people and enjoying their help/company but he’s a tendency to use them. He doesn’t believe they’ll stick around so he doesn’t bother caring about them.

+ Tubbo is also an abandoned child. Unlike Tommy he grew up in one spot, although still homeless. Philza found him camping in a crate box behind his station and gave him a job and a bed. He’s pretty much exactly like Orpheus, optimistic, sees the world for what it could be instead of what it is, but maybe spends a little too much time looking forward and not around.

+ Technoblade is basically the god of work and motivation. His problem is generally the same as Hades’ in that he misses his family and is too busy working and building security for what he wants to get what he wants. He misses his brother so much he’s hardend himself to the reasons they’re apart so much in the first place.

+ Wilbur is basically the god of play and rest. In this AU, instead of Hades, Persephone’s role is the biggest reason the world is out of wack. His problem is that he doesn’t face his problems. As the god of such frivolous things as music, games, rest, etc. he is (feels) weak and useless. He’s jealous of Techno and how needed he is so Wilbur retreats away to somewhere he feels needed and wanted, entertaining miserable people. He’s stayed away for longer and longer amounts of time, not realizing his distracting them from their troubles (inadvertently preventing them from fixing them) is a reason they’re so miserable in the first place. All he can do is have a good time so he’s begun forcing it every second of every day and ignoring his brother in the meantime. He needs to learn that he CAN do good, people NEED breaks and fun, but recklessly enforcing it only enforces what he fears, that he’s a liability.

So, the main problem is a cycle the brothers have spiraled into:

Techno does obviously important things (stirring progress and improvement) and Wilbur feels bad, unimportant, and like a burden.

Wilbur leaves Techno to go distract himself/play with the humans.

Wilbur becomes useless and detrimental without Technoblade there to balance him out.

Techno works even harder, becoming empty and cold without Wilbur there to balance him out, trying to get enough work done so Wilbur won’t have to worry and will come back.

Wilbur sees Techno working so hard and shies away even more so as not to disturb his brother’s important work.

Technoblade has to basically force Wilbur to stay with him now, making it more work.

Wilbur sees Technoblade as both too important for him and now generally unappealing as unnecessary effort. Besides, he’d probably just get in the way.

Technoblade now sees Wilbur as just another part of his endless job. Keep people working, keep things improving, keep the numbers going up, try to keep Wilbur here. Its become work for the sake of work instead of work to the sake of rest.

So even when they’re together neither is relaxed enough to balance the other, both are distant.

Wilbur’s become too carefree, he ignores Technoblade and drops anything that seems challenging, including reconciliation and self-examination. He’s still just playing, even when with Technoblade.

Technoblade’s become too obsessed, focusing more on how to get and keep his brother with him than on being with his brother. The work has become meaningless without the end goal that Wilbur provides. A self sustaining cycle of labor for more labor’s sake.

Now the humans are suffering because they find themselves trapped in an unbalanced cycle of being either incapable of work or incapable of play.

Thematic notes:

- The dancers in the station during the first half are Skeppy, Antfrost, Bad, Eret, and Puffy.

- The workers (the dancers in the second half) consist of Niki, Fundy, Quackity, Ranboo, and Awsam.

- Tommy is implied to vaguely know/be brotherly to Techno and Wilbur, this is partially how Techno convinces him to leave and go work for him.

- Likewise, Philza has a few lines about feeling sorry about how Techno and WIlbur have ended up (implying he took some part in raising them) and already knows Tommy when he enters (implying he’s been a dad to helped Tommy out before.

- Technoblade is less malicious than Hades, more just cold and apathetic. In a way, he thinks he’s helping by pulling Tommy away from Tubbo. He, like Wilbur, believes that work is good so more work must be better, even if you’ve nothing to really work towards. At the end he listens to the fates because needs to figure out how to let Tommy go without undoing either all of Wilbur’s power or all of his.

- Tubbo’s song has a bigger impact on fauna than floral, specifically insects. His first song brings out bees, butterflies, and moths that Tommy goes all star eyed for because pretty bugs but more importantly, living things that don’t want to hurt him!

- Instead of a flower Tommy gets a big beautiful orange moth (named Clementine) that hides in the back of his coat neck whenever Technoblade is near. He remembers in ‘Flowers’ when he goes to wipe some sweat from his neck but its Clementine and she flies around him while he sings. (I thought that’d be much prettier than him just holding her like Eurydice holds the flower.)

- During ‘Living it Up On Top’ Wilbur dances specifically with Philza (who greets him very much like a father might greet a son who’s been away for a long time) and Tommy (who he teases and ruffles his hair a lot).

- Wilbur does drugs instead of alcohol. He... he makes a lot of drugs so I thought this would be an appropriate swap. Also it’s really funny to me that he sings Our Lady Of The Underground (or, Brother To The Underground) just completely stoned; handing out weed and shit to the workers.

- Instead of a mine Hadestown (Technotown? Technoville?) is a farm in a giant glass case built way up high. Instead of going through the dark that challenge is Tubbo has to climb up its side to avoid the train. Its an unnatural and unwelcoming greenhouse. Everything grows in lines but they’re mismatched and overrun with thorny weeds. Everything is grey and tough and flavorless. There’s so much dust and dirt being kicked up it’s hard to breathe and see. The workers are using various gardening tools during the beats instead of swinging a pickaxe. Half will sharpen while the other half swings (tilling the ground/cutting weeds), it makes a real nice schwing/thunk mix sound.

- During ‘Word To The Wise’ George sings (“if you tell them no you’re a heartless man”) Sapnap sings (“if you let ‘em go you’re a spineless king”) and Dream sings (”here’s a little tip”) and (“men are fools, men are frail”)

- Tubbo still looks back during ‘Doubt Comes In’ because he's scared of Techno and feels bad about himself (“Who am I? Who am I to think that he would follow me into the blazing heat again”). Techno, Wilbur, and Philza try their best to take care of them but it’s still a tragic ending.

- Tommy and Tubbo may or may not become (very sad and minor) gods. Unofficially and not in the story, but still... maybe. If they WERE, hypothetically, they’d be a very tragic pair. Tubbo would help mend relationships and guid people towards good advice while Tommy would help catch/ignore/cut out bad ones. Always working together, never together.

Lyrical Changes

> Pronouns are changed, obviously.

> Techno and Wilbur sing “brother” instead of “lover.”

> During ‘The Wedding Song’ (The Friendship Song, I do not care if it’s childish, Wedding is replaced with Friendship) They sing each other’s names instead of “lover.” (Tubbo, tell me if you can...////Tommy, when I sing my song...)

> Anytime they’re complaining about the cold winter replace it with a hot summer

> Tommy’s lines are much sharper. He never loses his edge with Tubbo. Instead of him remembering him and going “my best friend, Tubbo” he remembers and says something more along the lines of “that fucking idiot, Tubbo” but he’s say it with a quivering smile and bittersweet tears in his eyes. Harsh in words not in tone.

> Wilbur still pours a glass for a toast during ‘Living It Up On Top’ but the rest of the time he’s smoking something instead of drinking. (Who gives breaks when the work is hard?//That's right, Wilbur Soot!//Who makes the music? Who’s your bard?//(Wilbur Soot!)//Thank you//Who makes a rough life fun again, in spite of a pig//(You do!)//Who’s the most awaited gig? Eh? Wilbur Soot, that’s who!)

> When Wilbur shows up during ‘Chant’ he complains about how cold and dark it is. (Colder than a tundra) Techno explains it away as having set up shades/coolers to counter the glare from the sun through greenhouse glass and how he did it to protect/comfort Wilbur. (Brother when you feel that chill, it’s my protection from the kill, its my protection that i’ve built for you.)

> In the Chant Reprise the workers are singing about why they’re working if they can never enjoy the security and safety they keep making. Technoblade, instead of telling him to buy Tommy’s love, tells him to make himself needed. He, instead of warning Tubbo about Tommy leaving, scolds Tubbo for being too light and fluffy and spinelessly letting Tommy go. He scolds him for trying to take Tommy away, back into uselessness and empty fluff, when he’s found a good purpose because clearly Tubbo wasn’t point enough.

> Philza’s still the narrator, but diegetically his lyrics show more clearly that he knows everyone in the story already. I really like the idea of him giving Tubbo advice on making friends that gets shown in ‘Come Home With Me’

> When Tubbo sings about Techno, instead of singing about minework, he’ll sing things like ((from the second stanza of Epic II) “Technoblade, king//of power and pain//of a hard days work//that never ends//and for half of the year when Wilbur’s away//the strain and the stress just won’t give way//he thinks of his brother, light and carefree//and is taken in a rage of obligation and need//to ensure wants are met and safe//so there will be time for play//so his bother//his brother comes home)

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

This post all started because I was thinking of Tubbo singing the “La lala laaa” that was originally Wilbur’s song.

Also, I realize this entire AU is just one big punch in the gut to Philza, like, “HEY, ALL YOUR SONS ARE SCREWED UP, NOW SING ABOUT IT.”

#drugs tw #ask to tag #sleepy bois inc #sbi AU #sleepy bois inc AU #Philza #technoblade #Wilbur soot #tommy innit #tubbo_#sbi + tubbo #sbi hadestown au

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madsdefencesquad · 4 years ago

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Okay I got boooored so here’s a Kevison magazine fic I wrote for Kevison nation coz I love yous and we deserve to see Kevin talk about his fam magazine-stylez coz you know he’ll be gushing all the time about them, like you just KNOW IT.

Kevin Pearson on life, fatherhood and what’s next for him by x March 2028, Spring edition

It’s been twelve years since the impassioned The Manny star Kevin Pearson announced to the world that he will be quitting the role that had started it all for him. Pearson’s public meltdown was excruciating, to say the least, but it was this very act of defiance that led the actor towards the path of the actor-crusader that he is now known for—a revolutionary who defied the odds and ultimately defined him as one of the greatest actors of his generation.

After a slew of tabloid-worthy dalliances with famous co-stars including the soap operatic love triangle with Tony award-winner Olivia Maine and his Back of an Egg co-producer and playwright Sloane Sandburg, to the court-ordered rehab stint after a DUI arrest, Kevin Pearson has done nothing but illicit the kind of stories that tabloids are desperate to display and monetise from in full view. All of these seemed the perfect pivot points for the actor, basking in the affordances of all this fame and fortune albeit in a trajectory of a complete career-destruction, but the actor was by no means deterred in proving that he can and should be taken seriously in his acting craft.

Pearson came through with striking, emboldened performances: a soldier with an inability to confront his demons in the Ron Howard-helmed World War II flick opposite Sylvester Stallone, and an embittered cop in the M Night Shyamalan action flick Stairs to Nowhere. But it wasn’t until his role as a disingenuous trial lawyer in the 2020 Jordan Martin Foster film Glass Eye that earned him his first ever Academy Award nomination and eventual win that proved to the world that when he puts his mind to it, Kevin Pearson can truly achieve the kind of acting greatness worth the lauded applause.

Pearson, who was born and raised in Pittsburgh before moving to New York and eventually Los Angeles, has spent a good amount of his life in the public eye. Though his sunny, easy-going persona and physicality have been compared to the likes of Chris Hemsworth and (supposed rival) Chris Evans, the Pittsburgh-bred Pearson doesn’t feel the need now to prove that he is anything but a conscientious actor and a dedicated family man.

It’s a warm, spring afternoon when I ring the buzzer of a sprawling floor-to-ceiling glass residence tucked away in a town in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. The little lady of the house, barefoot in a floral-print dress, greets me with an encouraged wave from her father, who is cradling her against him upon opening the front door. “She’s not normally this shy,” Kevin says with an affectionate grin as he leads the way to the sitting room, his little girl curiously taking peeks at me with what I garner is her mother’s soft blue eyes given Kevin’s famous warm browns.

The newly built residence is a remarkably private house perched on a dramatic hillside overlooking a panoramic view of the verdant surrounds, which Kevin says, “keeps the family very safe from prying eyes.” This feature, of course, was at the forefront of his mind prior to laying its foundations there.

“There’s one main reason as to why I chose to build here specifically,” he says. “But I’m not gonna bore you with the details. Let’s just say, I’m honoring a memory. Makes me sound real poetic, doesn’t it?”

Throughout Kevin’s career, he’s been known to talk quite candidly about his love and appreciation for his mother, Rebecca Pearson, with his Oscars acceptance speech having heavily featured his immense gratitude to her as would a loving son. But, as we move along the elegantly furnished corridors with him pointing and elaborating at the various artworks decorating the walls and the spaces, it is obvious that Kevin has an unrivalled affection for his wife that is quite notably special.

We make our way to a sitting area outside where we are entreated to the sounds and sights of a naturally filtered swimming billabong with cascading falls—a modern feature incorporated with the Japanese Zen garden landscaping that is just breathtaking to behold in person. “I wanted to make it feel as authentic as the ones you find in Japan,” he says, sitting on one of the cushioned recliners. He pours me a glass of red wine while he settles for chilled tonic, his little girl now helping herself to some olives and crackers.

There is an air of rare contentment around Kevin as he laughingly recalls his twins’ daily shenanigans. “Nothing really compares to coming home to them,” he says. “And I’m not trying to sound ungrateful or anything, but I’ve been [working my whole life] and I’ve only had my wife and kids just short of a decade, and that’s nothing! So, I do what I can to be home in as most days of the year as I can.”

When asked whether he’s perhaps heading into the territory of acting retirement in favour of other pursuits like directing or producing, Kevin thinks it can go either way.

“The other night in bed my wife suggested I do voice acting,” he says, to which his little girl unintentionally responds to in glee as she, her feet now strapped in light-up sandals, runs the width of the garden (within sight of her dad, of course) with her Jessie and Bullseye dolls held high. “She knows me too well,” he says fondly of Madison, his wife of eight years now. “I’d love to have my kids watch a movie that dad’s in without having to wait till they’re teenagers. And I hate thinking of my babies as teenagers! God, it’s just the worst age!”

Kevin recalls his teenage years with the kind of accepted embarrassment fit for a 48-year-old, but he laughs saying, “But I see a little more of their mom in them than me so that gives me hope. I’d hate to think I passed on angsty teen Kevin to either one of them. Just serious kudos to my parents for putting up with me all those years. I must’ve been a nightmare.”

From endorsing the des Resistance popular eau de parfum for men to his Armani-clad behind splashed on every billboard in the country (much to his chagrin and to his wife’s entertainment), Kevin Pearson has always been quite the go-getter, and though his “yes man” days in the industry are over, he’s always open to other ways in which he can challenge himself in his craft without compromising the time spent with his family.

“They’re my first priority, no questions asked,” he says. For a kid, who grew up in a middle-class family with parents whom had high hopes for their future, Kevin says that now, as a father himself, his perspective has shifted as to what’s really important and what’s not.

“I think a lot of the time there’s an expectation for your kids to meet the standard their parents have set or even go beyond it,” he says. “But that’s just toxic, you know? And it puts a lot of pressure on them to be someone that they’re not and not meant to be.”

Kevin is candid about his insecurities as an actor and as a father and as a husband, but there is a masterful acceptance there that he gives full credit to his wife. “We’re not perfect people, perfect parents,” he says. “And we’ll never be. That’s just a fact of life. But getting to do this with your person, the love of your life makes the biggest difference. I used to think that my parents had the greatest love story ever, and I used to really idolise it, you know, but honestly I think Madison and I can probably rival that.” And he thinks that if he’ll ever write, direct or produce a script, it’ll be about him and his wife’s sweeping and unconventional love story that will be the “tear-jerker of the century. Like, A Walk to Remember or The Notebook level but like better!”

I ask him what Madison would think of his plans to unleash their love story to the world, and as if on cue, he fishes his phone from his pocket and utters a “just a sec” before leaving to grab his daughter and take the call.

Following his game-changing Academy Award win in 2021, Kevin had let himself free fall in the industry as a kind of versatile actor in roles where he sweeps you away with gut-punching monologue deliveries coupled with an intensity that comes in through the eyes. He hasn’t delved into comedy since his Manny days though, but there is a certain cajoling ease in his demeanour that could easily challenge his funny bone.

“It’s Madison,” he returns not long after and settles himself down again, his daughter handing me a pizza-shaped play-dough I pretend to munch on. “She’ll be home soon. You should meet her. You’d love her! Everyone does not that it’s surprising.”

And who could deny that offer?

Kevin shows me a photograph of the twins on his phone at their cousin’s birthday whom they celebrated with in California last week and qualms that they’re growing up way too fast—yet another reiteration that he is as doting of a father as he is a consummate actor. He thinks that though Hollywood is a lot less ageist in terms of film and TV roles, there is still that pressure not to succumb to filling a role just because you’re the right age for it.

“Ever since my kids were born, I’ve been approached to do a lot of dad roles. Like my agent would send me about five scripts a week where my character is supposed to be this stereotypical dad. I’ve rarely taken any of them because I feel like it’s like they’re just trying to fit me in to a role just because I can say, ‘Oh hey, yeah I’m a dad now, I know what that means or what that looks like’, and not that that isn’t a good thing per se, but there’s a difference between the director wanting me to put my own spin to it as Kevin Pearson the actor versus them just wanting Kevin Pearson the dad. The way I approach parenting my kids, the way my wife and I do it, would be different to the way my character in this film would parent his kids. Sure, there may be certain overlaps, but it’s not going to be full Kevin Pearson the dad, you know? So, it’s hard with that kind of expectation.”

As the sun dips a little lower and it gets a little cooler, Kevin takes us back to the house just in time to finally meet Madison and their little boy, who looks strikingly like his father though, upon closer inspection, actually looks a little more like his mother. But there is one undeniable feature of the twins that definitely comes from both parents: the adorable identical dimples adorning their little chins.

Madison Pearson is as beautiful in person as she looks in photographs standing beside her husband in premieres and events. With her light-blue eyes and warm, soothing voice that sounds both delicate and excited at the same time, Madison is nothing but the embodiment of all things lovely.

“She grounds me,” he says adoringly, watching Madison and their kids flit about in the kitchen arranging dinner. “There isn’t much I can say that’s good about me if it hadn’t been for her. I can be ambitious and sometimes there’s always that pull towards something bigger but not necessarily better and she tells me honestly. She calls me out. And everyone needs that, you know? A frank person who won’t sugar coat anything, but they do it because they love you.”

It’s easy to imagine Kevin in gritty noir films playing bad cop, good cop or even as an intimidating trial lawyer, but Kevin as a family man is the role that is perfectly suited for him, almost like it’s created especially for him. As a father, he thrives on the affections of his kids, and as an actor, he finds pleasure in what’s he’s good at. And as a husband, his smile is the widest. “Not gonna lie, her not even being slightly jealous of that one time I did a love scene still gets to me,” he jokes. But it’s obvious that it bothers him not one bit. He enjoys being Madison Pearson’s more than anything.

“It’s crazy to think that people are inspired by what I do and who I am when for most of my life, it was 100% the other way around. It’s a huge responsibility, really, but I take it as it goes. I have my kids on the back of my mind now every time I make any decision, and I have a wife to love and support too, so it’s easier to not feel trapped by people’s opinions and expectations of you when you’re too focused on them and being the best person you can be for you and for them. So, it’s about growing every day, and enjoying all that life has to offer, and making every moment count.” x

Particular shoutout to my GC gals coz like ILY 5EVS @wallofweird @betweensunflowersanddaffodils @thisiskevison @thesocietalmisfit @tryalittlejoytomorrow @lullabiesandgoodbyes @flythesail @ourfinehouse @elephantsneedwater @holding-up-the-universe @smoakingpinklipstick @purpleinthesky

#kevison #kadison #seriously let's get rid of this tag @ sterling better not be annoying af next ep aye!!#hope you enjoyed kevin gushing about his family lol #i'll probs make another one but less formal and more kevison-centric #but I just love love loveeeee imagining dad! and husband!kevin sah much #so don't mind meee #anywhooo #kevin and madison #kevin pearson #this is us madison #kevison fanfic #kevison fic #i have not written in 5eva but boyyyyyy this was sah much fun #Kevin Pearson #TIU #tiu spoilers

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hlcreators · 4 years ago

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AUTHOR REC: creamcoffeelou / @2ofusmp4

Be sure to show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

last blues for bloody knuckles (34k)

“Hi, love,” A too-familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the door. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips that he brought between two fingers as his eyes raked over Louis. All Louis could do was stare, wide-eyed at the alpha that he’d left behind so many years ago. “Harry?” His voice felt far away, like it wasn’t him that was speaking. On the other side of the door stood the one man he never thought he’d see again, and maybe the only man he never wanted to see again. A few steps behind him stood Liam and someone else he didn’t recognize, with guns tucked into their front pockets. “I need you to come with me.”

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

A mob au.

Adore You (23k)

When they’d first come into this lifestyle, the being in their roles in their day to day lives, Louis had struggled with it. He’d found it hard to distinguish between what Harry was doing because he thought he had to, with Louis as his dominant, and what he wanted to do just because of them being partners.

Being ‘twenty-four-seven’ in the traditional sense wasn’t exactly realistic in their life, no matter how much they tried to make it work. They could do small things within their power dynamic, they could try their best to keep it going, but more or less, it wasn’t a constant thing. Harry called it submission with weekends and bank holidays, and it worked for them.

As different as it was from what he expected, no matter what, in the end, it worked for them – and that was all that mattered.

“Can I… take care of you?” Harry had asked, his eyes looking everywhere but at Louis. Louis had just turned twenty-three, they’d been exploring things, doing new things for years, and Harry still managed to surprise him. “Like… Just do things for you like you take such good care of me.”

OR: A canon-compliant fic where Harry wants nothing more than to take care of Louis.

Running In The Shadows (43k)

Harry had a plan for his life. Work his dream job, raise his family, and settle down one day. He thrived in the ordinary. But when tragedy strikes, he has to see exactly how far hes willing to go to help the person he cares for most. Louis was never a part of that plan.

technicolor (81k)

When the small town of Twin Lakes begins experiencing a string of serial murders, a team of detectives is called in to help. Louis is the head of the team and meets a hard-headed psychic who everyone else seems to believe is the one who will solve the case. Louis isn't so sure.

OR The slow-burn, hate-to-love, crime au where Harry is a psychic, Louis is a detective, and the world is against them.

Still Standing Still (44k)

Louis has long since been following the same schedule, the same program, the same everything. He works hard towards his goals and gives everything to those that mean the most to him. Harry was never a part of the plan, but Louis finds he loves unplanned changes.

Earned It (5.4k)

There’s something so uniquely captivating to being on stage - to being the center of attention. Louis has always craved it, always craved the feeling of being desired by all only to have his own pick at the end of the night. He knows people come to see him specifically - has been told time and time again - and maybe that’s why he’s so in love with what he does. He knows he’s wanted and he loves being able to manipulate the attention of the men and women sitting in the crowd around him.

Break Me Dow, Build Me Up (16k)

America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.

[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]

Just A Whisper (11k)

Strange things have happened around the castle since Louis was young. No one has ever been able to explain them and they've long since gone ignored. As the hauntings become more frequent, Louis finally reaches his last straw and calls a professional to help him.

Ready To Run (11k)

After being left at the alter by his boyfriend of five years, Louis goes on a vacation to try and clear his head and fill the empty spaces in his heart. On the way, he meets a new group of life-long friends, and maybe a little more than that.

Just To Feel (4.1k)

Reason #17: Your car's already at their place and you're too lazy to move it.

When he wakes up, his back hurts, his head is pounding, and his mouth is extremely dry. There’s too much light around him and he doesn’t remember falling asleep at all the night before, let alone getting home. But as soon as he opens his eyes, he realizes very quickly that he’s not home.

He’s managed to fall asleep on the floor of Harry Style’s flat.

The Brightest Star Shines Through The Dark (16k)

Harry and Louis build their life together from the beginning - but even losing everything can't tear them apart.

What A Feeling (2.9k)

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Louis says with a slightly forced laugh. “Yeah, cause there’s nothin’ to tell!” Liam replies with a grin, getting a cackle from Niall, and making Louis’ face flame. He can feel Harry’s soft chuckle, just because their bodies are touching. “Like you have room to talk, mate.” He bites back, but all three of them are still laughing. He really needs to get laid.

Across The Lines (28k)

With a camera in hand, Louis sets off on the road trip of his life to explore the most famous haunted houses of the UK. Things don't exactly go to plan.

End Game (54k)

Harry styles is the most feared man in London, notorious for always getting everything he wants. All of that changes when Louis comes around and opens his eyes to a new, beautiful side of the world.

Beneath These Sparkling Lights (Forever you’re mine) (5.1k)

"After years of being called a couple teasingly by both our families and friends alike, I know it was nerve wracking for the both of us when it finally actually happened. But for our entire lives we’ve always been HarryandLouis, never apart, whether we called ourselves best friends or best friends and fiancés or now best friends and husbands.” Harry’s smile is so gorgeous that Louis feels a little shake in his knees, “Through everything, the good, the sometimes weird, and the bad, I’m so glad it was you at my side. I know life is ugly sometimes, but you’re the beauty in the fight that is life, for me. My rose to my dagger."

Last Day Alive (42k)

Harry Styles was born to the leader of the Following - the organization that keeps their world peaceful and just. Without the Following, the world would only return to the ways of the Old Times and all of them would come to an untimely end. Or, so he thought, until he meets Louis, the leader of the Rebellion.

Gentle Autumn Rain (57k)

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

Down the Field (9k)

Louis, a pro football player of Chelsea, is forced to retire after a severe injury to his foot. After he recovers and is told the news that he'll never play professionally again, he decides to go coach at his old secondary school. Harry, the health teacher, loves to let him know how big of a fan he is.

I Promise (3.5k)

Harry has a promise to keep and a pair of arms to go home to.

[Loosely based on the drowning scene from Dunkirk's trailer. ]

I Chose You (13k)

When he wakes up, the room is much brighter than when he’d fallen asleep. He has to blink the sleep from his eyes and eventually he just tosses an arm over his face to try and ignore the brightness, but then he realizes that the bed has a decent sized dent in it that forms perfectly to his body and he’s comfortable. It’s – weird. He can’t remember leaving the blinds open, and it wouldn’t have made much sense for Zayn to have opened them, either, but he doesn’t think about it. Maybe he just hadn’t realized that he’d had such a nice bed when he’d fallen asleep.

After a moment, he groans and takes his arm away from his eyes and – wait. This is – this is not his hotel room. This is a bedroom.

[Or: Louis wakes up in another life.]

As We Are (48k)

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

Written In The Stars (71k)

It was so different - the complete opposite of everything Louis had ever expected about finally being placed into the real world. Zayn defied every single thing he'd ever been told about vampires, about how he was supposed to be treated. This was nothing like what he'd expected.

[or: Zayn's the third oldest vampire in the world and found himself searching out the company of a human, so he took Louis as his keep. His maker Harry doesn't approve.]

Running (28k)

Louis was never ashamed of who he was - never had been never would be. But he never really was himself.

In The Heat of The Moment (36k)

The first thing that came to Zayn’s mind when he read Liam Payne’s file was that he was certainly, definitely going to die before he was thirty. The word they used in The Office for such a case was reckless; reckless meant that, perhaps, the person wasn’t at fault, but the universe and said person’s energy didn’t happen to match. That made terrible things happen to that person.

Liam Payne was a classic case of recklessness.

[or: A modern times AU where Zayn is a guardian angel and he's been sent down to protect the most reckless human he's ever met.]

#writer appreciation week #hljournal #1dsource #fics #author rec

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morningflames · 5 years ago

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a word of warning

well here’s a post i never thought i’d be making

it’s come to my attention that a Certain Someone is planning on making a comeback to WrA soon and it fills me with nothing short of dread. i spent the day yesterday warning people he terrorized and manipulated that this was happening. you know it’s bad when there’s a literal network of people who share an abuser that have remained in contact for years in the event this happened again.

i am not going to lie and say that making this post does not terrify me but i cannot in good conscience sit back and let him worm his way into the rp scene again and do what he did to me and at least half a dozen others all over again.

to summarize: tarcanus aka tarcanus frostborne is a manipulative, emotionally abusive and predatory individual that should be avoided at all costs.

i am the player behind lyrinel, a former officer of his and someone who was on the receiving end of nearly a years worth of abuse and manipulation. my experiences pale in comparison to those of others who dealt with him and came forward to me after i left his guild, and i cannot speak for anyone who does not feel comfortable coming forward. if you do want to let your voice be heard, feel free to reblog and add your own anecdotes.

my story below the cut.

tw: manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, coercion, grooming

i first joined coram populo in early 2014 after my best friend and fellow survivor (i will refer to her by her character’s name of thradia from here on out) joined the raid team in december of the previous year. we were both just looking for a social place to park our characters and maybe start role playing again, as we hadn’t had a guild or dedicated rp group in a while. things were fine and friendly for the first couple of months, though it’s worth noting that a large part of the office corps had just left or was in the process of leaving when thradia and i joined. we were both 18 at the time.

i made the mistake of reaching out to tarc in the spring, when i noticed him posting to his tumblr about how busy he was. i offered to be an IC assistant of sorts to his character and he was more than happy to toss me into an absolute whirlwind. we still didn’t know much about each other, but in the span of a couple weeks we went from casual contact in guild chat to immensely long (sometimes between 10 and 12 hours) skype calls, constant DMing, and an almost uninterrupted stream of conversation. i was struggling to finish high school at this time (spoiler: i failed to graduate) and found myself suddenly caught in an all-consuming relationship with this man and his guild. from the moment i woke up to the moment i finally hung up and crawled into bed, my time was taken up by tarc and the guild and the game.

i was promoted to officer less than five months after joining the guild. this was overwhelming for a number of reasons, chief among them being the fact that i had never been an officer in a guild like this before and i was very quickly escalated to tarc’s “inner circle.” this was a circle that he evidently didn’t even include his most senior officers in, as he didn’t seem to communicate with them to the extent or abundance that he did with me - and later, when she was ALSO promoted to officer, thradia.

within a few weeks i found myself at the center of dozens of micro-confrontations and venting from tarc about other members of the guild, raid team, and even fellow officers. every time, i would tell him he needed to take it to his co-gm and talk it through with her. she, like him, was a grown woman with a lot more experience and better people skills than me, a teenager barely out of high school, but tarc insisted on beating me over the head with his frustrations and then proceeding to guilt me and tell me i was a terrible friend when i didn’t agree with him or expressed i was uncomfortable being in the center of a vent session that i felt was unwarranted.

tarc was never wrong. he did not apologize. the words “i’m sorry” did not exist in his vocabulary, and if they did, they were almost always followed up with the word “but.” constantly he would be sending multiple messages to me or thradia while we were running events and raids for the guild, ranting about a few particular members that he disliked at the time regardless of how we felt about said members. thradia and i would both be reduced to tears and/or anxiety attacks by his outbursts that all but demanded we take his side even if we didn’t. his feelings and circumstances were paramount. everyone else’s were just inconveniences.

tarc was always the victim. no matter what was going on, no matter who had instigated whatever vein of conversation we were on that had gone awry, he had a way of making you feel like utter shit until you grovelled for his forgiveness, which he rarely gave. instead he would move on without giving any closure or allowing you to discuss your feelings at length. if you tried, you were the insensitive one who he couldn’t go to with his “unfiltered emotions,” which was the entire purpose of his inner circle to hear him say it. i was not allowed to just be his friend or just be an officer, i had to be both and neither at the same time, and it still was not the right course of action. nothing ever was.

tarc was openly manipulative and antagonistic, always citing it as an “inside joke” when called on it. i opened up to him once about my father’s alcoholism and how i was uncomfortable with alcohol culture and being around drunk people. regardless, he would constantly call while drunk (or maybe he was pretending to be to get a rise out of me, i honestly do not know what was genuine and what was put on with him) and make me stay on the call with him for hours. when he was (allegedly) diagnosed with an inability to process certain alcohols that could be life threatening, he continued to drink (or claimed he was drinking) dangerous amounts, which lead to me begging him to stop as i feared for his life. one of the worst anxiety attacks i have ever had was over him endangering his health and me believing i was going to see a friend die. he knew how much this upset me and he did not stop. he held me as a captive audience to his self destruction (or the playacting of it) and let me cry and beg and plead with him to take care of himself.

tarc loves to promote a clean, “family friendly” persona online. he will go on and on about the positive atmosphere his guild provides and how progress and accepting he and his “safe spaces” are. as soon as you are inducted to his inner circle, however, you learn otherwise. he will gladly engage in sexually charged conversation with you, even if you are ten years younger than him as thradia and i were. we were both legal adults, yes, but just barely. i can’t count the inappropriate remarks and jokes made about us, our friends, and even minors all in the spirit of joking “what if” conversation. he has a history of making young LGBT+ people uncomfortable, making their sexualities and identities about him and how he can relate to them.

tarc was the most two-faced and divisive guild leader i’ve ever seen. he would rant to me mercilessly about wanting to kick one of the junior officers and raid team members in private while never saying a word to their face or bringing it up with the co-gm. he would start schisms between people, telling each what they wanted to hear and encouraging both parties not to confront each other about it, allowing the resentment and distrust to grow as he fanned the flames on both sides. he wanted people to stay in the guild and continue to basically work for him while also putting him above anyone else in their friend circles. he told straight up lies to thradia and i, claiming one of us had said things about the other that we never did, driving a wedge and distrust between us.

tarc treats his guild(s) like a business. he is entirely capitalist-minded even in an MMORPG that people play for fun, churning out “content” and keeping up appearances like a machine. he treats his officers and guild members like employees, not people. any time irl would demand attention away from the game, forcing someone to miss or cancel an event, he would subtly guilt them about it until they apologized, even if it was a dire situation or a family emergency.

when tarc wanted to start a wow roleplaying podcast, he approached me about cohosting. he wanted a female voice, and since i was out of school and had no job lined up due to not graduating i was the perfect candidate. i came on to narrate and research the lore segment of the looking for roleplay podcast, which was little more than me paraphrasing a wowwiki article, but i was held to a “professional” standard. i had to have my research done by a certain day, my recording done in advance, etc.

the podcast was a spot of contention for several reasons, one being the mysterious emails tarc would allegedly receive about it. the podcast had a shared email account that all three of us could access and look at, but tarc claimed that people sent emails directly to him since “everything’s under his email.” he would use these strawman emails as indirect criticism of turwinkle and i, reading them aloud or typing up what they supposedly said but NEVER producing a real screenshot or address to verify them. i’m convinced he only did this as a way to make turwinkle and i feel badly and work harder “for the listeners” to appease things tarc didn’t like about our segments. he also insinuated he got inappropriate emails about me specifically at this account but, again, i was never allowed to see them with my own eyes, just hear about them secondhand, which is why i believe they did not exist.

around this time, tarc began recording conversations without mine or thradias consent. he would start recording random sections of calls and taunt us, playing back out-of-context lines and joking that he would make “podcast commercials” out of them. they were often embarrassing, personal, or just wildly out of context lines that we didn’t want played to the public, and i heard only a fraction of what he possibly recorded of me. i have no idea what kind of material he has of me and thradia that was recorded without us knowing or consenting. it felt like blackmail. it still does.

i internalized all of this. i thought this was normal. i thought he was an excellent guild leader and a role model for leadership. i had begun to treat world of fucking warcraft like a goddamn job and i thought that was fine. my life revolved around coddling and entertaining him, socializing and promoting and recruiting for the guild, raiding, running pvp entirely on my own, keeping up IC connections and attending events, recording for the podcast, all of it. i ate, breathed, and slept wow and coram. it was insane. i had been talked into having no boundaries for myself and my time, and any time i tried to correct that and build a boundary i was attacked for it until i backed down. i have never felt worse about myself than i did while i was in this guild. i trusted no one. i was worn thin.

i finally had enough early 2015. at this point this man was trying to get me to come live with him hundreds of miles from my family so that i could attend a technical school in his area. i am still 18. he was 28. i had been trying to step down from my position as an officer, citing if i was going to be LIVING WITH HIM that it was going to give me an unfair bias in my standing in the guild. this set him all the way off. he was planning a trip to atlantic city for me, himself, and thradia, who i had a ticket to visit for my birthday. he was getting frantic because he had been pursuing thradia for months, and i was no longer cooperating.

when i threw this wrench in everything, our relationship devolved in the span of a few hours. within the day i left the guild on all of my characters and pulled myself out of all of his projects. within the month i had frantically faction changed several characters and eventually unsubscribed from the game for two years because i lived in fear of him. he had always alluded to “knowing people” who could hack and track IP addresses and kept tabs on everyone who visited his blogs and websites. i didn’t know what i thought he was going to do - all i knew was his thinly veiled brags and threats were at the forefront of my mind. i have played this game since 2006, but for the first time in my life i couldn’t enjoy it out of fear and exhaustion caused by him. he had ruined my favorite game in less than a year and made me paranoid about my entire online presence, to the point where this blog was abandoned for months before i turned it into what it is today.

and the thing is, tarc’s not a creepy or abrasive guy when you first meet him. he’s funny and charismatic and outgoing. he loves to tell you about his world travels and show you pictures of him petting baby tigers at rescues in southeast asia and go on about these crazy winnings he would have in vegas. he’s larger than life - at least online. he came to visit me twice in the year that we knew each other. the first time was also the first time i had ever met thradia in person, and we had been friends for six years at that point. he has met my family, and that of several other members (both my age and older). no one ever questions why he’s there. no one ever thought it was odd that for a week he hung out with three teenage girls exclusively.

this horrifies me to this day.

thradia and i are still best friends. we compared notes and were sickened at how we were played against each other. slowly, i returned to the game. i reached out to people who had left or been on their way out when i first joined the guild, curious to see if there was a common thread. there was. everyone i spoke with had similar stories: being made to feel like shit, nothing they ever did for the guild was enough, they weren’t allowed to miss events or raids no matter what the reason, they were questioned and joked about inappropriately and made to feel uncomfortable and preyed upon, etc. i was not the only one. thradia was not the only one. at least half a dozen other former members and/or officers had these stories, and tarc just kept getting away with it.

he cannot keep getting away with it.

i am being open with this for the first time in six years because i don’t want to see it happen again. because i don’t want to know that, had i said something sooner, more people could have been protected. i was 18 when this was going on. i had no real world experience. i had no standard for how i should be treated, much less by someone almost ten years my senior and who claimed to be my friend. but he knew better. he should have had boundaries and space and lines he refused to cross. he did not. he crippled my trust in people for a very long time. i have only become comfortable playing wow on horde side again in the past year or so. i finally stopped looking over my shoulder, /who’ing him and his guild, avoiding rp hubs. but now i feel like i can’t do that anymore. the safety i have worked so hard to achieve for myself is now threatened.

i understand my experiences are mild in comparison to what some offenders on this server have done. but at the end of the day, this year was the worst year of my life. to this day, the skype ringtone literally triggers me because i associated it with him and his endless calls that i never knew what to expect from or how to get out of. i can’t look at certain parts of the game without feeling fear. for months i held my breath going online or logging into wow because i was waiting for him to pop up and start accusing me of things or trying to guilt me into coming back.

tarc ran coram populo, a guild that, as far as i know, still staggers along with a few members who can’t be bothered to leave. whether or not he’s planning to return there, i don’t know. he organizes and runs (from what i can tell) the azerothian trade federation (whatever the fuck that is). i don’t know what his plans are. i don’t know what his online presence looks or will look like when he comes crawling back. but i beseech you, do not give him the time of day. do not give him a platform, no matter how nice and “woke” he makes himself out to be. he lures you in with humanist ideals and then sucks the absolute life out of you- and that’s if he doesn’t want to pressure you into a relationship on top of it.

to tarc: if somehow you’re reading this, stay away from me. keep my name out of your mouth. i do not want an apology and a string of half-assed, gaslighting excuses. i have records of past conversations. i have screenshots. i know what you fucking did to me and to my friends. i do not want you back. i do not want you here. i do not want to share space with you. i want you to go away and never come back.

you alone made it so hard to trust myself and other people. thradia and i both have had to seek therapy due to you. and now, you have the audacity to come riding back into the scene on a white horse, being self righteous about abuse and predatory behavior online, and have the utter gall to condemn behaviors you yourself emulated without apology or second thought. i know you think you’re a good guy. that’s what makes you so fucking dangerous. you genuinely don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, and if you do, you’ve buried it and squirreled it away and have covered it up to the point where you can turn any accusation back on the claimant.

do not attempt to contact me. do not try to threaten or appease me. go back where you were. i am finally at home again, and you will not take that from me. go. away.

#wrymrest accord #wra rp #wra community #okay to reblog #i am going to basically go dark on here now and not check on this #i have gotten ohysically ill from dredging this shit up #i will not be engaging past this point so whether you believe me or not i do not care #i know my truth and i know what happened to me even though i was gaslit to hell and back

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missjanjie · 5 years ago

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Branjie Fic | Take Me Back to the Start (8/?)

Title: Take Me Back to the Start Summary: Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn’t over yet. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~25.3k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll) Rating: E

Read on AO3

José was never able to sleep the night before a competition, but for some reason, it felt worse tonight. It felt like there was more on the line— not only did he feel the need to live up to the expectations of the coach and everyone on his team, he wanted to be as good as Brock seemed to think he was.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how important Brock’s opinion was to him. Next to his mother, no one else ever seemed to believe in him so unabashedly, and he didn’t have the ‘parental obligation’ that he associated with his mom. Brock believed in him because he wanted to.

And maybe that should have put him at ease; it should be something to take comfort in. Instead it just made him feel like he had more to prove, that he had to prove he was worthy of Brock’s praise.

Either way, it was almost four in the morning and José was as awake as ever, and he knew he would regret it in the morning if he didn’t at least keep trying to get some sleep.

But it became clear that just wasn’t happening, so he texted Brock to see if he was awake.

‘You can’t sleep either?’ Brock sent in response.

‘Nope :(‘

‘Wanna call me?’

José grinned, sitting up in bed. ‘Yeah, one sec,’ he sent before calling him. “What’s got you up, boo?”

“I’m just nervous about tomorrow,” Brock admitted with a sigh. “Everything went well at the game, but it’s gonna be a whole other setting and it’s really gonna be a testament to whether or not I can choreograph or if I ruined everything for everyone.”

That definitely didn’t make José feel any less anxious – if anything, the knot in his stomach tightened. “If it helps, it’s not all on you. We did this together. We either succeed or we flop, but it ain’t all on your head. Or mine.” The last part was a reminder for himself, but it didn’t digress from the point.

“I don’t wanna screw anything up for you, though.”

José didn’t mean to laugh, quickly trying to stop himself. “You think you’re gonna screw something up for me? Boy, you must be really up in your head.”

“You say that like it’s a new development,” Brock retorted dryly. “I can’t help it, I just want everything as close to perfect as physically possible.”

“Yeah, what else is new?” José chuckled. “If you keep tryna be perfect you just gonna create impossible standards. You’re already the best dancer I know; if anything I should be lecturing you about being too arrogant, but you ain’t even cocky.”

Brock sighed with a light laugh. “I think if I started getting cocky I’d just end up apologizing for it,” he chuckled softly, then yawned.

José caught the yawn, rubbing his eyes. “I think we tired each other out,” he mused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As late as it was, they did finally manage to sleep through the night, hoping it’d be enough to get through the next day.

------

Brock had been walking around the building the competition was in, as he’d ended up getting there before the team. But apparently, he had been wandering around too long, because all of a sudden, he looked up and saw Courtney barreling towards him.

“There you are! We started to think you got lost.” She took his hand, guiding him to the waiting area where the team was getting ready.

“Sorry.” He offered a half-hearted apology, now distracted by examining the group and, more specifically, looking for José to see how he was holding up.

José didn’t even notice when Brock arrived, deeply invested in the task at hand. He was standing by the freshmen on the team, fixing their hair and makeup, going over the steps. One girl seemed to look anxious, so he pulled her aside to give her a pep talk that lifted her spirits.

“He’s a real den mother, isn’t he?” Courtney remarked to Brock, who was leaning against the wall and watching him with the fondest of smiles.

“Makes a great team captain,” he agreed.

It was mutually beneficial as well — when José was focusing his attention on keeping the younger teens motivated and in good spirits, he had a solid distraction from his own nerves. If he kept preaching these words of affirmation, maybe he would start believing them himself.

Once the group had dispersed, Brock made his way over to him, pressing a kiss to his temple and giving him a light squeeze. “Holding up okay?”

“Trying to,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, gaze shifting from the taller teen to the younger group. “It’s the first big competition for most of them, can’t let ‘em see you sweat, you know? They’re all looking to me to have shit together.” His voice was strained, without the distraction, he was back to being consumed with anxiety.

And Brock picked up on it, squeezing his shoulders and staring at him until José gave in and made eye contact. “Listen to me, we’re here because you’re an amazing captain. They look up to you because you’ve been an incredible role model this whole time. I don’t just believe in you because I like you, I believe in you because you’re one of the most talented, hard-working people I’ve ever met.”

Despite his stubborn efforts, José relaxed at his words. He realized he’d needed a pep talk just as much as his younger teammates. “Thanks.” He looked up at Brock, giving up any attempt at hiding the smile that fought its way to his lips. “Couldn’t have done it without you, though.”

“I’m glad I could help, but you guys are gonna be the ones tearing it up, and I’ll be cheering for you the whole time,” he promised.

Shortly after that, the squad was given a ten-minute warning, and Brock made his way out to the bleachers. He was sitting for about a moment before he looked up to see a familiar face joining him. “You again?” he joked.

“Yes, I’ve been stalking you this whole time.” Karl chuckled. “I’ve never seen a cheer competition before, do they all just perform their routines and that is it?”

“Neither have I, now that I think of it,” he shrugged. “But yeah, I can safely assume that’s the gist of it.”

Karl furrowed his brows. “You haven’t? Has José not been competing?”

Brock shook his head. “No, no, he has. But we… went a few years without talking, only picked back up recently.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

He couldn’t tell if the question came from disbelief or genuine confusion, pressing his lips together and looking out ahead of him. “José and I have a unique history. Guess at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter, mostly just happy with the page we’re on now.”

“Mostly?”

Brock pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if being this nosy was a French trait, or something specific to this teen. “Everything is a work in progress, but things are going in the right direction,” he concluded. “How are you and Charlie?”

The expression that overtook Karl wasn’t unfamiliar to Brock — giddy, warm, rosy cheeks with an offset gaze—it was the same lovesickness that had plagued him since childhood. Only this time, he wasn’t looking in a mirror, and it brought a sense of relief to him, that he wasn’t alone in the smitten boat, so to speak. “Things are good,” he answered. “Very good.”

“I can tell. You two are good for each other,” he mused. “Don’t let anything get in the way of that.”

Karl nodded, then both of them shifted focus to the floor as their school’s team entered. The music began to play and the routine began, both of their eyes trained on every moment.

When it ended, Brock realized he had been holding his breath the whole routine. He stood up and cheered as the air returned to his lungs, filled to the brim with pride and admiration - it couldn’t have gone better if he tried, and a weight lifted off his chest.

But the nerves came back with a vengeance when it came time to announce the winners. Third place was announced, and after second, Brock was starting to get nervous. He was on the edge of his seat when the first place was announced.

“Holy shit, we won.” Brock didn’t register the cheering or Karl shaking him. He was stunned. That really happened. All of their hard work actually paid off in a tangible manner. It wasn’t until the noise had died down that he came back to earth. As soon as the team exited, he got up and ran to meet them on the other side.

The second José spotted Brock, he sprinted towards him. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed him by the face and kissed him hard, not letting go until his lungs gave him no other choice.

Brock wrapped his arms around José’s waist, picking him up and spinning him around. “That was amazing!” He kissed his cheek before setting him down. “I am so proud of you.”

“We did it!” José beamed when his words were no longer escaping him. His face was red and his eyes were wide, sparkling with enthusiasm and pairing perfectly with a smile that could outshine the sun itself. “We really fuckin’ did it.”

They did have to break apart when the rest of the team crowded around in collective celebration. Parents were running in to congratulate their children, people started to scatter as they posed for pictures with their medals.

José was the first to notice his and Brock’s mothers walking towards them. He chuckled softly, the two women were chatting animatedly, as if no time at all had passed since the last time they were in a room together. He admired the effortlessness in their camaraderie, it led him to believe that things could actually be normal between himself and Brock. “Aw look, they getting along.”

Brock chuckled. “What, did you think it was gonna be like the Capulets and Montagues?” He received a blank stare in response. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“Oh yeah, with Leonardo DiCaprio.” He nodded confidently, and they were embraced by their moms before Brock could offer a response.

------

It was getting late; the cheerleaders were starting to taper off after the celebration dinner. Everyone was a bit tired, but spirits were high and bright.

“Do you wanna come over? Maybe spend the night?” José asked with his mouth half full, washing the bite down with a swig of water. He and Brock hadn’t left each other’s sides since the win, they’d even been squished together in the restaurant booth until people started to leave.

Brock grinned, setting his napkin down on the empty plate. “Sure, if your mom doesn’t mind.”

“Naw, you were always her favorite anyway.” He chuckled, waiting for him to slide out of the booth so he could follow suit, and they walked out to his car with linked arms.

The drive back was quiet – Brock seemed lost in thought and José chose to focus on the road than press him about it. They’d had a long day, after all, he was sure if it was worth bringing up, it’d come out eventually.

Once they were finally in José’s bedroom, they were as relaxed as ever, watching Real Housewives reruns and getting just high enough to not know what city they were in. They had their own running commentary going, one that started as jokes and devolved into just mimicking what the women said in nasally, valley girl voices.

But after a while, the TV faded into the background, and they became more invested in their cuddling. And then cuddling turned to kissing, which led to groping.

“I think we should have sex,” Brock said suddenly.

José blinked in surprise, taking a moment to make sure he’d actually heard him correctly and he wasn’t so high that he had started to hear things (which would’ve been improbable with the meager amount of weed they smoked, but he could never be too sure). “Are you sure?”

Brock just nodded simply. “Uh-huh. I mean, I’ve been wanting to for a while now, but I, you know, overthought it every time and chickened out,” he explained, for once not feeling like he was struggling to stay calm.

He let out a laugh because yes, that was very on-brand for Brock and knew for sure that he was being sincere. “Well, if we’re being real right now, I have been wanting you to fuck me since the rain cockblocked us at the park.”

It brought him a relief to know that these feelings had been mutual for a while now, though it made him feel ridiculous that he’d been so adamant about holding out and hiding away. They could’ve crossed this path weeks ago, but he quickly concluded it was better late than never. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, pulling José into a kiss before he could answer.

Not that there was anything José felt like he needed to add. He kissed back with all the eagerness that had been building up over what felt like ages now. He was gripping onto Brock by his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it off and toss it aside, his own following immediately after.

Brock was amused at the speed and dexterity the brunette expressed when he wanted something done, and he decided that all he needed to do was keep up with him. So, he scrambled to get out of his jeans, to get them both undressed as fast as the delayed connection between his brain and his hands allowed.

“Tell me if you wanna slow down or stop or anything.” The difference in their speeds had become apparent enough to José. Even without a request, he quelled his pace so they were at a similar rhythm, one that soon felt effortless to both of them. He waited for a beat, then reached into his drawer and handed him a bottle of lube.

“We don’t need a condom?” Brock asked, examining the bottle and figuring out what he needed to do next.

José shrugged. “Nah, you a virgin, and I tested clean. Might as well make your first time even better, you know?” He had always used protection with Kyle, insisting it was for safety. Despite being technically true, in the back of his mind, he knew it was because he never completely trusted that he was his only partner. Perhaps in another place and time, it would’ve bothered him, but he didn’t care anymore, and it was a freeing revelation.

Brock, on the other hand, accepted the explanation at face value. “That works for me.” He hummed, waiting for José to lay back. “You, um, need to prep first, right? Or am I supposed to do it?”

“You getting nervous already. Lemme do it,” he decided, taking the bottle back from him. “Pay attention, so you know what to do next time.”

He smiled, the idea that ‘next time’ was a given settled well with him, it made him feel warmth swell in his chest. “Should I take notes?” he joked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. But as he immediately realized, notes would not be necessary. Watching José surpassed any porn he’d ever watched. It had him hypnotized and practically drooling, he was absentmindedly jerking off to the sight that he couldn’t look away from if he tried.

And José absolutely adored the attention and tried to put on a show without being too loud. He worked himself just to the point of readiness, easing his fingers out and looking up at Brock. “You ready, big guy?”

“You fucking bet I am,” Brock chuckled softly. He took the bottle and used the lube to slick up his length, then very carefully guided himself into him, grunting softly as he did. It took him a moment to adjust, the feeling so new and overwhelmingly pleasurable.

José waited patiently for Brock to get comfortable. He already felt so good just having him buried inside him, just holding him close, one hand on his back and the other tangled in his hair. And when Brock started thrusting, he yielded to his movements right away.

Brock’s moans went from cursing and words of praise to unintelligible nonsense faster than he could’ve anticipated. His thrusts were a bit unsteady but deep and fervent. His hands were at either side of José, balancing himself until he moved one to grab his waist, giving him a better angle to continue.

Time faded out of relevance as the thrusts became more desperate and erratic, the two of them clinging to each other for dear life. It could’ve been anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours – they didn’t know, nor did they care. By the time they were both spent, they were lost in their own little world. Nothing else mattered, they could bask at this moment forever.

“So was it good for you?” José asked when he finally caught his breath and the room stopped spinning so much.

Brock snorted, covering his mouth. “Yes. It was very, very good,” he replied, wrapping his other arm around the smaller male and holding him close. “It was good for you too, right?”

“Of course it was.” He huffed as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Just checking,” he cooed and kissed his forehead, then yawned as he closed his eyes. “At least tonight we’re gonna sleep really well.”

José buried his face into Brock’s chest, mumbling a sleepy “Uh-huh.”

Brock exhaled deeply, holding him close, then gently whispering, “I love you.”

He got a loud snore in response and he laughed to himself. Maybe it was for the best, he thought as he started to drift off. The right time would come eventually.

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf

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elireah · 5 years ago

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Doctors of tomorrow: showdown

Authors note: Hey guys! This is kind of the first real short story that I have written so let me know what you think! I appreciate your imput and I hope everyone is staying safe out there :)

“Doctor Walker, come quick, it is Miss Evans again!”

Nate glanced at Nia as she rushed in the breakroom of the Cardiology department. The nurse panted a little from what it looks like a full-on sprint only to take a big gulp of air before continuing her plea of help.

“Heartrate unstable, extensive sweating, heavy feeling on the chest. I don’t understand what is could be, I checked her treatment but it should be fine,” She rambled.

Nate laid down his juice box and lifted his hand as to halt Nia before she lost consciousness due to a lack of oxygen.

“Alright, alright, breathe. I will be on my way to check on her,”. Nia’s shoulders lowered themselves slightly, only to tense again.

“Thank you so much, it is rather urgent so if you could…”

Little did she know, Nate was already at Miss Evans’ door. He heard a view cries of surprise down the hall that he had taken. Well, Nia did say to be quick.

He sighted. Miss Evans was not particularly his favorite patient. Opening the door, he put on his best charming-old-people smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss Evans. How are you doing?”

Not a second later, Nate found himself dodging a gurgle of spit, impressively aimed at his head. For the urgency of the manner, Miss Evans seemed to be lively enough. Straightening his spine, he once again faced his patient.

Clustered to the hospital bed sat a fuming 76 year old Miss Evans, already reloading her ammo. “I told them over and over again that I don’t want to be treated by you, you… bloodsucking bastard!”

Mentally, he sighted. Why did everyone always play the race card against him. Miss Evans brought her cross out from under her hospital garment, presenting him with the new member of her arsenal. If looks could kill, he would have met his demise eight times already. Well. If it was possible for him to die again.

Contrary to the earlier chain of events, the unsteady rising of Miss Evans chest indicated that she was not well at all. Good that Nia will be here any second now.

And just as predicted, Nia, undoubtedly having taken another sprint, rounded the corner of Miss Evans’ room. At the sight of Miss Evans harassing me with her cross, she paused her movements. Not that Nate could blame her. It must be quite a sight. Doctor versus patient. Vampire edition.

Nia regained her senses, as well as her breath, and rushed to the struggling Miss Evans. “Miss, please, try to calm yourself. Doctor Walker is only here to take your pulse, please…”

Nate leaned back against the wall close to the door, putting his hands in his lab coat in an effort to look less hostile. Nia should not have said that.

He saw the last of the color in Miss Evans’ face vanish as quick as his mortality had. People are usually not very fond of him coming near their pulse. On the other hand, screw them. It was not like he had wanted to become a vampire. He would remember it until the last of his days. It had been the day before his graduation. Nate could still recall how excited he had been to finally receive his certificate. All that, literal, blood, sweat and tears would finally pay off. So, he and his mates had the brilliant idea to end the era with a bang and go party. One thing led to another and the next thing he knew, he woke up buried under the ground. He did not dig that. Turns out, there is not a manual on how to be a vampire so that was a whole second identity crisis right there. In the end, he managed to receive his certificate while a whole confused audience wondered why he was covered in dirt. After that, he had wondered what to do. Most fantasy novels suggested to join a cult of vampires that would fight for world domination but he did not even know his so-called sire, aka douchbag. Also. He did not fucking go to medical school for ten years to just throw his degree out of the window because of minor physical changes. Let alone the lifetime of debt that he had built up to get his degree in the first place.

Nate had started visiting hospitals, applying for a doctors position. One could imagine how that would go. Most hospitals were satisfied with his specifications and soon enough he was offered a trial position at the Nursery department. It turned out that babies are more perceptive than the common human-being. Needless to say that none of the babes particularly liked him.

Every time he had entered the nursery, a whole orchestra of children would start to cry. This had intrigued a few of his colleagues to experiment a bit. He could still remember Lea holding a baby continuously in- and outside the room he would currently occupy, creating the effect of a human siren. In the end, they had to let him go. His presence had overworked a large part of the department staff.

The next hospital was, ironically, understaffed at the Haematology department. Something about a certain virus that kept them working around the clock. Nate had been a relative new vampire and did fail to mention to his superiors that he was one at all. It is not like he wanted to drink blood but he needed to feed once in a while.

For quite some time, work was fine. He gained more experience in the field and learned his limit regarding his feeding. However, one day the limit was pushed to the edge.

Patient after patient had needed immediate medical attention and although his stamina was infinite, his self-proclaimed iron-deficiency was not. In the end, he may or may not have been caught feasting in the blood donor bank. The room had been an absolute mess. Blood was splattered everywhere. Walls were stained with a blood pattern that even serial killers could learn from. His colleague had seen him, fangs out and crazy eyes. It had been the first time another human realized that he was a vampire. What a great fucking milestone had it been. In the moment, Nate had identified a few stages of behavior that would later serve as his personal tree-chart guide to human-vampire reactions.

First and foremost, shock. Symptoms: mouth agape, pupils dilated and breathing non-existent.

It than took about a minute for his colleague to turn to confusion and denial to explain the sight of him. Shaking his head, mumbling something about ketchup. Third in line was disgust followed by the emptying of the stomach. Mild digestion, horrific smell and an unhealthy looking sausage. It ended with pure terror. High pitch screaming, body fluids dispersing and pants wet. However, the side note must be made that the last reaction can vary between terror and fainting.

Well, after that, the cat was out of the bag. The hospital was evacuated because of an alleged ‘fire’ and Nate had spent the following year avoiding a mild vampire-hunt. Looking back now, it had been a mistake on his part. But just like every fresh-out-of-college doctor, Nate had been desperate for the experience. At least he had learned something. However, he made a promise to himself that he would get the next job on his terms and his terms only.

Nate had walked into his current hospital and demanded to have an interview directly with the head of Cardiology, his preferred department of work. With some willful persuasion, he had ended up in the office of Karen Deas.

Karen had been unlike your typical Karen. Composed, perceptive and in-charge but equally as terrifying as all Karen’s. She just sat there at her desk sizing him up for a while, legs crossed, gaze sharp as a scalpel. Eventually, she had sighted.

“What do you want? My staff knows better to not disturb me with whatever nonsense you have to present to me. Just fill in the form like everyone else and we will consider it.”

She started to ruffle in a pile of clearly unorganized documents and pulled out a form but not without sending the rest of the pile to the floor. Before Karen knew what happened, Nate had intercepted the documents consisting out of new research for a semi-automatic heart prototype, specific patient data and a Tikka Masala recipe. Not a second later, the papers laid neatly on the corner of Karen’s desk. Organized from A to Z. Karen had been frozen in her chair.

Most people just told themselves to be amazed at Nate’s quick reflexes, dismissing the unnaturalness as mind games. But Karen was not most people. She was a goddamn doctor of science.

A few moments of eternal silent consideration later, Karen had lifted her arm slowly to unwind her hair from her tight bun. Her hair flowed to the small of her back as she struggled to get a cigarette out of her backpack.

Unwinding the buildup stress? No, looking back now, her blond locks had been an ever so small layer of defense against him. After all, he had not missed the slight shacking of her hand as she had lit the cigarette.

She had leaned back in her chair, inhaling slowly. Shakely, a big cloud of smoke floated in his direction, barely missing him. Karen again pinned him down with her stare full of questions.

“State your business,”

So he had told her. About his story, about his vampireness and his ambition. Karen had grown more and more pale during his story but still had maintained her surveilling stare. A whole of six cigarettes had not survived the conversation. She had been silent for while after he had finished. With a long exhale, she had thrown the last of her cigarette in the ashtray.

“What is it that you want from me?”

“A job. I did go to college to be a doctor and I intend to make that true,”

Karen had choked out a laugh, shaking her head.

“And what makes you think that I would let a vampire, a goddamn vampire, in the OK treating patients with heart problems?! The fucking organ responsible for the blood circulation,”

Again she had laughed, a stressed-out and broken sound. “It would be an ethical nightmare.”

Nate had suppressed the urge to role his eyes. As if he didn’t know that. He had experienced it first hand after all. But he had not come in empty-handed. Nate also leaned back in his chair, mirroring Karen’s position.

“Alright. I get your point. But let me strike you a deal. I will play by your rules, obey every tiny detail of them and you will let me work here,” Nate could already tell that she wanted to interrupt him. He lifted his hand to still her already open mouth.

“In exchange, I am willing to cooperate in any medical research you may want to perform on me. Within the bounds of humanity, of course.”

Nate could have practically seen the wheels spinning in Karen’s head. No medical researcher in her right mind would pass on this opportunity. He was the epitome of unknown medical science. Regenerate limbs? No problem. Stop aging? Sure, why not. Cure Cancer? Who knows. All he knew was that this was the only bargain he could make to gain a doctors position. And Karen was tempted. Extremely tempted by the looks of it. He could tell by the way she forcefully pursed her lips on each other and stared into his soul. Willing him to be as good of a person as he had presented himself to be. Again a few moments of silence lay in between them.

Nate had sighted.

“Look, I get it if you need some time to con…” Karen abruptly stood, shoving her chair against the wall. The speed of it made Nate question who the vampire in the room really was.

“Rule number one: Under no circumstances, and when I say no I mean no, will you talk to someone about this,” She started to pace in the small room. “I will introduce a small team who will be notified of your… condition.” It was like she was talking more to herself than to Nate. The following hour, Karen went on with a list of rules that he would need to follow.

“One last thing that I need to know. You must tell me your weakness. If you go out of control, I must know that there is a way to defend ourselves against you.”

Gods, that had hurt his pride a little be he figured it was only fair. Karen was responsible for the lives of all on the department and she was willingly striking a deal with the devil for all she knew. Nate scratched the back of his neck, staring at a crease in Karen’s wooden desk.

“I’m not that familiar with my weaknesses myself to be honest,”

Nate abandoned his chair. Karen visibly stiffened but did not move as he walked in her direction. As he stood before Karen, Nate turned his back to her, presenting her with the nap of his neck.

“However, some time back, I was hunted by some fanatics and they took a pretty good swing close to my neck,” He moved his fingers to the tiny scar on the back of his nap. “I regenerate from all injuries I receive. Whole limbs grow back in a matter of minutes and don’t show any permanent sign of physical harm.” He again faced Karen, who was at this point more curious than scared.

“But this, this wound left a scar and shows no sign of going away.” Nate felt a little sheepish. This was not really a concrete weakness though. It was more of a hypothesis than anything else. Karen’s questionable look had reflected how he felt.

“There is truly nothing else? Not a stake through the heart? A little bit of sunlight? Or perhaps some garlic?,”

She could not be serious. Nate had laughed out loud. The abrupt sound made her cross her arms over her chest. Apparently she had been dead serious.

“How do you think I walked in here? The sunlight thing is just a myth and I am especially fond of some garlic in my food. And a stake? Seriously? It is not like I come close to death every day.”

“I thought you were already dead,”

Nate threw her a glare. “You know what I mean,”

Karen arched a well-maintained brow but did not push it any further. Nate offered her is hand.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

Still skeptical, but swayed, Karen took his hand. “So you know, I’m not done making rules yet,”

“Yea, I figured.”

And so Nate came to work at the Saint Andrews hospital. It has been three years since the little job interview. And a lot had changed. Yes, there are more rules but he had also gained more freedom. More and more employees got to know about his state of being. He still could not tell if that was a good thing. Some people were just plainly fascinated with him. Others felt the need to make themselves his warden. As if they could. But Nate played along just to fain the illusion of security. And it was surprisingly fun to see Ethan stress-out at everything he did. Drinking a juice box is apparently highly dangerous to the small village that made out the hospital. If Ethan had looked closely, he might have noticed that Nate was drinking plain old tomato juice. A crime in its own right but whatever. Eventually, most of the staff had warmed up to him and even some of the patients came to know what he was. It turns out that people didn’t really mind his existence when they were already busy dying. In the department of fear, he would not stand a chance against Death. But hey, wouldn’t it be way more interesting to be killed by a vampire than by a popped artery? Not that he would, of course. But there were also some people that that did not like him too much.

Like Miss Evans. If he had to believe Miss Evans, the bible apparently had a passage dedicated specifically to male, allegedly bloodsucking, vampire doctors.

A rallying warcry pulled Nate from his thoughts. Miss Evans was screaming bloody murder at Nia as she was trying to calm the wailing women. This had taken long enough. He pushed himself from the wall and striked back his hair. In all the commotion, Miss Evans had lost an IV from her left arm. The punctured skin had soon enough made room for a dark beat of blood.

Nate sniffed the air. Interesting.

While Nia was still occupied on the right-hand of Miss Evans, Nate used his speed to intercept the drop of blood on Miss Evans’ left. To her it must have felt like a gust of wind, but Nate was already back in his place like nothing had happened. He licked the blood from his finger. Just like he expected.

Disgusting.

Everyone always made the mistake that he must love the taste of blood. Nate absolutely loathed it. The blood is only needed to prevent him from going 100% feral and even then he preferred animal blood over human blood any day. Rabbit blood to be specific. The thing about blood was that he could taste everything from the persons emotions and worries to their opinion about him or others. Therefore human blood was always clouded with envy, anger, love or loathing.

Yes, our lovely human-nature tastes like shit.

So he liked his blood bland and free, just like most animals were. However, in the medical field it was quite handy.

Due to the nature of the blood, he could easily diagnose the disease the patient was suffering from. The first time he had tried it, Karen had held him at gunpoint. Although, her silent rage had been more frightening than the M9 pointed at his face. She had locked him in the freeze cell until she had tested the patient on the particular illness he had mentioned. It had taken two whole days. Nate was to only do it again with Karen’s permission. Which meant that there will be some trouble in store for him later on.

Miss Evans blood was laced with her disgust for him. The feeling almost overpowered any other details but he could still distinguish the drugs present in the little drop. But mostly interesting about the taste was that it was ever-changing. One could mostly describe the after taste as ‘selective happiness’. Which is quite a contradicting flavor to her disgust.

“Say Miss Evans, you wouldn’t happen to have had any visitors these days haven’t you?”

The old women stopped her attack on Nia and returned her attention to him.“I don’t answer to you,” Miss Evans proclaimed through her grinding teeth.

Nia dropped her arms to the side of her body in defeat and sighted. “She has had a visit from her pastor this morning. It had something to do with cleansing the room.”

Of course it had.

“Filthy traitor,”. Miss Evans murmured some other insults under her breath while Nate tried to still his murderous thoughts. Him being a vampire had nothing to do with it, any human would have just about enough of this shitty behavior. He took a step closer to monitors surveilling Miss Evans. Her blood pressure seems to have skyrocketed since 1 pm. He narrowed his eyes.

“Now, now Cindy, it is not nice to lie to the people trying to save your life.” he purred.

Upon using her first name, Miss Evans seemed to shrink back a little. So she does sense when he had enough. Good.

“I seems like that pastor of yours and you had a nice chat. He even brought you flowers.”

Miss Evans’ eyes shot to the bouquet of flowers on her nightstand.“Yes, yes, he is a very nice man indeed. He even recited a verse from the bible.”

She grabbed for the bible on the edge of the nightstand. No insult this time. Nate fondled a rose petal from the roses as Miss Evans frantically tried to seek the verse in her worn-out bible. “Ah yes, here.”

God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, Courage to change the things which should be changed, and the Wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

Amen.

Nate snorted. Amen indeed.

Still fondling the rose petal, he let out a fit of laugher. It was just too damn funny. Slowly pulling himself together, he met Miss Evans’ baffled stare.

“You must feel very serene or am I perhaps mistaken Miss Evans?”

Miss Evans went stone-faced. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Oh, she was proper nervous now. Beats of sweat started to form on Miss Evans’ brow.

“No? A pity that you have not changed a bit. But I’m glad for you that God supports your little addiction.”

With one sweep he pulled the flowers from the vase.“I mean, flowers do heighten ones spirits around here.”

Nate carefully avoided the thorns on the bouquet and fished out a little transparent bag of pills.

He heard Nia gasp behind him. Miss Evans watched the event unfold without a sign of emotion.

“Oh my, he must have forgotten his pills.” She did not even bother to sound believable.

This goddamn women.

He must say that he admired the audacity to flat-out lie without giving a crimp. Even when caught red-handed.

Behind him he could feel Nia regaining her fighting spirit. “Miss Evans! We have talked about this. You are a heart patient and some drugs could further endanger your life!”

“Methylfenidate to be exact, also known as Ritalin,” he stated.

Nia grasped the pills from Nate’s hand, storming towards the sink. She dumped the contents in the basin and let the water run.

Miss Evans did not move an inch. However, the clenched jaw and the vain throbbing in her forehead told him that she was about to lose it.

Nia huffed as if to let out her anger and turned to him. “I will notify the other nurses to sharpen control for visitors. We will start adjusting her treatment. Thank you for your help, doctor Walker.”

Before he could reply, she was already out of the room. Fuck. Time to get out.

“Well, as always, it was a pleasure but I’m afraid I have to leave and…”

He turned to Miss Evans just in time for her explosion. A string of curse words that God for sure would disapprove of made its way to him as she reached for the vase resting on the nightstand. He reached the vase before her, putting it out of her reach. This led her to go for her second option, the bible. Already rushing out, he closed the door just in time to escape. The holy book slides of the door in response.

Thank God that was over. He smirked at the thought.

A fair opponent she had been but the final outcome was inevitable. Vampire: 1. Patient: 0.

“You determined the state of the patient remarkably quick, did you not Nate?”

The ice in her voice told him enough. She already knew. Karen stood a few meters from the room, already a hand on her gun. He was so fucked.

#vampire #vampire au #short story #doctor #writing prompt #writing #clash #funny #urban fantasy #creative writing

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sheusedtobesassier · 5 years ago

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Day 10,330

Home alone for the first time in I think three weeks?? And by home I mean Allynda’s home. Lights off almost everywhere. Moon lamp, Scentsy dark crystal, candle, streetlight, three more candles, and the lowest lighting of the touch lamp. The Ballad of Love and Hate playing. Just got out of a hot hot bath during which I decided I feel capable of writing out the love story, well at minimum the beginning of it. I would call the start the best part, but I hesitate to say so. Intimacy was the best. Before that was just the delicious anticipation of that. Yeah so I realized I want to write about it tonight which was the smallest gasp of relief. I know there was a time when I couldn’t fathom remembering the sweetness. Begged for protection from those memories actually. And truthfully, I think that prayer was heard and answered. Sure they suddenly come for me sometimes, but they’re almost always quick and painless, like a shiver. Like a muscle memory. Phantom. Hm, hm.

“You’re still all over me like a wine stained dress I can’t wear anymore.”

We knew each other back when we were kids. To be specific, he was definitely a kid and I was in high school haha. (I believe he’s four years younger than me.) We were goof around pals that saw each other occasionally when our churches got together for Christianese functions. It wasn’t a close friendship, but me and my friends were very fond of him and his best friend. I left home in 2010 and probably interacted with him online once or twice throughout the next seven years of wandering on my own. I wasn’t keeping tabs.

November 2017. His best friend ended up falling head over heels in love with an old friend of mine. They had a sweet little “café con leche” wedding ceremony. There were a whole pile of people I knew at the reception and we filled up a long table. I noticed two friends seemed to be checking somebody out and when I curiously turned to follow their eyes, there was Omar. And uh, haha, he was definitely no longer a kid. Broad shoulders and the longest curls. I noted that he was nervously glancing around the room, probably looking for someone he knew. (I found out later it was an uncomfortable wedding for him.) Without a second thought, I stood up and excited rushed over to him. It was a short conversation, an exchange of pleasantries. What he’d been up to and what I’d been doing. He told me he was a vagabond and I told him I’d just been assigned the role of Staff Director at Sky Lodge. I mentioned that if he didn’t have anything going on in the summer he should come up and work. He said it’s something he had considered before and gave me a maybe. I don’t believe I saw him again the rest of the night.

Fast forward to the spring hiring season. For a few months, week after week, day after day, I was trying to round up summer staff, particularly a strong adult leadership team. I was interacting with maybe 100 college kids throughout this process with the goal of getting around 12 of them to commit to a full summer at camp. It is a grueling process. That spring specifically I felt like I was being forced to relentlessly coerce others to apply for a ministry they seemed to have Absolutely Zero Interest in. The applicants I did have were concerning to me as far as trustworthiness. I knew I wasn’t doing a great job and that knowing made it hard to do even a good job. Once May came around I had no fight left in me. And then I got weird messages from Omar. He had said early on that he wasn’t available, but whatever he had lined up fell through so he was wondering if there were still spots. I sent him the info and he said he’d apply that evening. A couple days later nothing had come through from him so I messaged him to see what was up. He had read the application and was no longer interested. I had a gut feeling and asked, “Is it because you don’t think you want to work for us or because you think you won’t get hired?” He told me it was a little of both and felt like parts of the application process were intrusive. Which, lol, he wasn’t wrong. I was thrilled. Asked if he’d be willing to fill it out and then have a longer discussion with me about his misgivings. He said he would. I remember calling my sister after I read what he submitted and giddy announcing, “HE’S A REAL LIFE PERSON.” He hadn’t given religious robot answers. He’d been forthright and controversial. He would bring something So Different than everybody else I was hiring AND THAT POSSIBILITY WAS DEEPLY INTRIGUING TO ME. I scheduled his interview, knowing I’d be deciding if we were going to hire him BUT ALSO he would be deciding if he wanted to come. I told him he should take a few days to really really think it through, talk it over with people he trusted, and genuinely pray about it. I started asking God to work it out if it was supposed to.

Okay. A little pause because I’m about to write about a part that I want to make sure comes off as how it actually was. First, I want to be clear that I was 0% attracted to this person at this stage. We were both grown, but he was still a kid to me. A long ago friend who I’d lost touch with. I was in boss mode, desperate to have admirable leaders I could count on for the summer (which was only a week away). Second, there was a specific season of my life where I considered myself very in tune with the Holy Spirit. I communicated with Her consistently and believed I heard from Her pretty often. That may sound kooky to you, but it doesn’t change what I believed then haha. This story I’m telling occurred like, five years after that Era of Very In Tune. Which I feel the need to say because like, interacting with the Holy Spirit still happens in my life, but rarely. I’m not seeking it out as frequently and hardly ever get anything straight from Her. Lol, if this weirds you out, no worries it weirds me out too. Okay so. With those said.

The morning before his phone interview, I was driving around a riding mower praying about the conversation we were going to have. I was concerned that he wasn’t going to choose us, worried about how I might screw up a good thing. I big time wanted to know that he’d be good for camp AND that camp would be good for him. Honestly I probably wanted the second one even more. I was stressing about it to God. And like. I wouldn’t write this except that it’s true. I out of the blue just experienced 100% reassurance that Omar would be at Sky Lodge for the summer. Right there, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was was going to say yes. And like, I knew it was from the Holy Spirit. That familiar Her. Burst into tears because like I said, I wasn’t hearing from Her as much as I used to. So to suddenly experience that rush?? I wept happy tears. When I came in for lunch I told Jeremy we could start putting Omar’s name on all the official lists. He was like, “But you haven’t done the interview yet? And didn’t you say he might not even want to be here?” And I was like, “Look. I know he’s gonna say yes. I can’t explain how, but put him on the lists.” Then I went out in the sun and called him up. We talked through several complicated things. It was an articulate conversation between two people who respected each other. (It is very weird to think about how much I low key instantly trusted Omar.) And lol. The end of the conversation was me big smile saying, “So uh, everybody else is getting here on Thursday to get moved in and settled by 5 o’clock. So.” and then he was big smile basically like, “Okay. Yeah. Well. Huh. Yeah I’ll be there.”

And sure enough he was. Well kind of. He showed up late. Everybody else was going through the line for dinner when he called me to say he was here but not sure where to go. I ran out of the dining room and saw his black car pull in. Showed him to park down by Maple. Noticed the John Mayer poster rolled up in his back window so we chatted about our mutual fondness for him on the quick stroll to the Lodge. I remember as dinner was finishing up the Foremen were starting to gather. I was staying on the edge, interested to see the beginnings of all their dynamics. Noticed Omar keeping his distance, but not in an uncomfortable way? Like, he definitely wasn’t exuberant, but he wasn’t closed off either. He was wearing the DAYDREAMER hoodie. He couldn’t hold still? I decided I didn’t need to worry about him and hoped he would pick buddies soon.

Foreman Training. Okay. He was definitely the most interesting person in the room. I mean, besides me of course. He was laid back and whenever he spoke up it was good for everybody. He kept giving out nicknames. Playful. Oh lol, when we’d take breaks, he and Elicia had a game of pool going on which was great because it gave the other girls the chance to watch him flirt. He was noticeably special. I was glad I hired him, because he consistently brought the group’s average up. And we got along well. One night after training had wrapped up the two of us got into a chat about the Kardashians, which lead to Kanye, which lead to President Trump, which lead to talking about Omar being brown. On my walk to my home, I txted him apologizing for maybe expressing too much and not asking enough questions. He told me not to worry and thanked me for the conversation. THERE WERE NO BUTTERFLIES YET. This was my first shot at being a true blue leader and I wasn’t taking that lightly. Being good for everybody working for me was my obsession.

Foreman Campout. Okay. Several things happened here that I want to note.

1. We had a mega controversial meeting about cell phones, during which I suggested we make an official policy that Foremen would leave their phones up in my office unless they needed them for something. It was a kick I was on mostly. A very firm belief that the less the Foremen were on their phones the higher quality their summer would be. There was immediate pushback. I was fending off tiny arguments. Suddenly Omar gave this rallying speech of like, “Come on guys. What the heck? Why are we being babies about this? This could be a really good thing for us!” And that settled it. He had power.

2. The morning after it rained there was a little pack of us huddled up in the gazebo talking about what the storm had been like for us. I asked if anybody had a pen I could borrow and Omar ran to get me one from his backpack. I journaled something like, “Last night I tried to imagine somebody to fall asleep with and couldn’t think of anyone. It’s nice to not be even a little in love with anybody.” AND I MEANT THAT. THERE WERE NO VIBES YET.

3. We all went tubing together and slowly but surely got split up into tinier squads. I was with Marissa and Omar, which was the ideal scenario for me. A lot of stupidity and laughter. Goofballs. There was definitely a point where I was wondering if there was chemistry between them. They drifted further ahead than me towards the end and I thought, “Interesting. We’ll see how that unfolds.” Once everybody was back on land I heard a bit of, “Ooh did you see Omar and Marissa?” It wasn’t a match in my head, but I didn’t think that hard about it.

4. The drive back to Sky Lodge, haha. Omar and I were both on the first bench. Him in the middle and me next to the sliding door. Jeremy was driving and Chris was shotgun so the four of us were chatting away. We passed some fields getting irrigated and I made some offhand comment about the Farmers’ Almanac. Omar suddenly turned to me and was like, “What do you know about that?” I tried to defend myself and he was like, “This sounds like you’re just making stuff up.” WHICH. EXCUSE ME. I WAS NOT. I couldn’t believe it. Him just challenging me right to my face. I was surprised and super secretly thrilled. Do you want me to explain that? Like, I didn’t feel dismissed by it. It was like he wasn’t allowing me to sound stupid and get away with it. Like. More was expected of me? He wasn’t gonna let me be high and mighty as his boss. And that like. Lol. It bothered me, but in a good way.

5. Okay this one was his story that he told me later. Both of us were claiming that there wasn’t any attraction happening yet at the campout, but then he was like “Oh hold up.” He said that on that drive back, most of us in the van were slowly falling asleep. I dozed off and was sort of precariously placed, like there was potential my head might land on his shoulder or my knee would drift into his. He said I woke up a little, noted the situation, and arranged myself as far from him as I could. He said he thought, “Why is she being like that?” And then he thought, “Wait actually why is it bothering me that she’s being like that???” Lol.

6. We got back and dropped everybody off at the staff dorm with announcements for the next day. Edith, my right hand woman, had evening rounds so the two of us did a super quick debrief of the trip standing outside my front door. I mostly remember making the statement that we had to look out for Omar because a lot of the girls seemed interested in him. It meant in a few weeks either they would all turn on each other OR all turn on him. Edith laughed and was like, “Well soon him and Elicia are gonna make out. Then nobody else will want him.” We giggled and I was like, “I just don’t want everybody to decide he’s a flirt when he’s actually just comfortable around women.” And like, haha. I WRITE THIS AS PROOF THAT I DIDN’T SEE IT COMING.

Alright so. Lol. Mm, mm. I’m gonna let me hit a hard pause for the night because I’m losing steam. Will come back to this though and soon. It’s a time in my life where I do have the space to get it out and I think I’d like to. Idk if it’ll be healing or useful. I’m not worrying about damage and maybe I should? But. Look. I fell in love with a good one who fell in love with me too. And. I’m not choosing to take my hands off it yet. Still pulled in. Fixated. I keep being afraid that I’m coming off embarrassingly obsessed, panicked that I’m weak and messy. But. Lol. I actually don’t feel like those things at fucking all. I do feel like someone became part of my life and with him I grew in gorgeous ways that I kept wanting to grow in and then I lost that person and now I am having a hard time figuring out some other gorgeous ways I can grow now. And like. I cannot have more of Omar or more from him. Not right now I can’t. But that doesn’t change that I already have a lot of what he did give me. And it’s really mine and I’m not required to like, demolish it to smithereens in order to qualify for moving on.

#personal

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sope-and-shine · 5 years ago

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Christmas Special: Day 12

-> Pairing: Jin and Reader (ft. Taehyung) -> BNHA!AU // Hero!AU // Fluffy -> Word Count: 2.7k -> Summary: When your costume design for your winter suit isn’t what you asked for and no one is answering your requests to have it made correctly, at least you have a friend to protect you from the cold. -> Warning: Minor Character death // catcalling // suggestive and mild language

A/N: Taehyung’s girlfriend in this story is definitely not Admin Belle. Not at all. You’re crazy.

Ever since you were little, you dreamed of becoming a hero just like your brother: Tidal wave. He’s one of the current Top 10 heroes in the country - Top 50 in the world - and has saved over thousands of people! You remember when he was starting out as a hero in training, the days where he would come home and practice in the backyard and break another vase your grandmother kept lying around on the porch. Even with the training he received he still had a long way to go, but overtime, you saw the skills he acquired to become a better version of himself for others, and you watched him grow into the hero you know today.

And that one summer evening when you were 10, and he was out on patrol for the night, he had become your sole guardian without even knowing until he received the call from the hospital. You were finishing up your homework in you room when you heard the banging on the stairs, and when you got up to see what it was you’d found your grandmother lying at the bottom of the stairs. You called for an ambulance with tears in your eyes as you willed her to wake up and just hold on until help could arrive, but she passed before they could get her into a hospital room. You had been heartbroken and almost completely cleaned out of tears when your brother had turned up, but seeing Taehyung rush in with his hero costume on in the same panic you had been in, you couldn’t help but burst into tears once more. You remember throwing yourself into his embrace in an attempt to comfort yourself, but you can also remember how he held you just as tightly in an attempt to comfort himself as well.

It’s been 5 years since then, and the both of you have grown a lot. Taehyung secured his spot on the Top 10 list, he’s enrolled in college, he learned how to bake 4 batches of cookies in 2 hours without burning your house down, and he met a girl. You were surprised when he decided 3 years ago he still wanted to continue his education in case the situation should occur that he needs to retire from hero work, and you completely supported his decision since he’s always been supportive of you.

What you never counted on was him meeting Ara.

Admittedly, you were skeptical at first, being nothing that you would have expected from Tae’s previous relationships - then again, that’s probably why they’ve lasted more than 6 months at this point. She wasn’t mean or anything, but she was much different than any of the other girls. See, most of the girls Taehyung has ever dated have been a bit ditsy, to say the least; Ara was blunt and to the point about what she wanted. Most of these girls had super flashy powers that locked your brother into their grasps; Ara had nothing special about her except for her wit, charm, and her strange obsession with comics and video games that also captured your brother’s heart. The other girls treated you very kindly when they would meet you, but they were just too caught up in his looks to actually pull you into the equation. They wanted his attention to always be on them, and they usually left after they realized they wouldn’t be Taehyung’s main priority while he had you.

But Ara was a total 180 from them.

When he mentioned he took care of his younger sister to her, she immediately demanded to meet you. And when she showed up before you had decided to leave your Toothless onsie from How To Train You Dragon with the ears and tail attached, she vowed that she’d only continue dating him if she got to cuddle you - his “precious and adorable little sister” - when she came over to visit. Dates to the amusement park became a group trip where he was the third wheel instead of you, because his girlfriend loved both of you - but you always teased that she loved you more. She took on the role of a female figure in your life that Taehyung couldn’t fill after your Grandmother’s passing, and that’s probably what made Taehyung fall in love with her even more. They’d seen you off to your first date together, they’d watched your first heartbreak together, and they were there to celebrate your graduation from middle school together.

And when it came time, they helped you prepare yourself for your first year at the Big Hit Academy For Bulletproof Youths.

This academy was for the big leagues, and it was the same school your brother had attended at your age to become the amazing superhero he is today. Everyone you knew wanted to go to school here, and almost every Top Hero in the country studied at this prestigious school to get to where they are. You had every intention to be just like them, and you spent everyday training with your fellow classmates to ensure that you’d make your brother as proud as he made you.

You excelled in the classroom, always studying when you got the chance and even texting Ara for help with anything you were unsure of. In training, you always made sure to take note of your surroundings and study your opponent before you made a move, and that wit and quick thinking you have are what keep you at the top of your game. But most importantly, you always made sure to keep in the good graces of your fellow classmates. You could get as far as you wanted, but if you didn’t keep connections, then you wouldn’t get anywhere in this world. Taehyung was very specific when he gave you tips to stay above water in a school like the one you were attending, and he was very specific that this was the one piece of advice you couldn’t ignore. As always, he was right to do so.

Now, as the summer turns into fall, it’s time that everyone gets their upgraded costumes for the winter. You remember designing these costumes with Ara. She insisted that she be the one to help you, and that Taehyung would be no fun about your creative desires since he insists on a “dress check” before you leave the house every morning. Taehyung himself was not thrilled to be locked out of the room while the two of you worked on the designs, but something Ara said to him while you were working was enough to get him to sit on the living room couch with a pout as he angrily watched Finding Nemo instead. His pink hair and childish ways would make anyone think that he were the child of the house instead of you, but with Ara’s baby blue hair and her own childish attitude to go with his, there was no doubt they were a match made in heaven.

The costume you wear now was one that made everyone turn their heads. Not for its beauty or intricacy, but because you looked like a volleyball player with a tool belt and a stick taller than you. Unlike your brother, you had a genetic mutation with your quirk. Instead of the water manipulation that your brother had, you could manipulate anything; You had telekinesis. Nothing new, but powers weren’t always something special. It was how you used said powers that made you a good hero. The simple shirt and shorts concept made sure you were comfortable and wouldn’t be constricted by your costume. Your tool belt gave you extra tools in case you found yourself in a situation where you couldn’t manipulate anything else. Your ‘stick’ as everyone referred to it was actually retractable, and you kept it on you much longer than just at school. Whenever the situation came that you would manipulate yourself to float for a few seconds, you could extend your stick to push yourself or the danger away with a distance in between. But should it fail, you had your knee and elbow pads to take some of the damage.

Even so, you had faith that your costume design for the winter would be a hit compared to the one you wear now. So when you pull it out to find that it was less clothing than what you wore now, you were shocked. Your new costume was supposed to be a pair of black harem baggy joggers with pockets on your thighs, white knee pads to go on top, and a chain long enough that you could also use for long distance attacks. Your shirt was supposed to be a white short sleeve with a black cropped jacket with a fur lining, and a pair of white elbow pads to go with it.

What you pulled out was nothing that you would have ever put on your design sheet, and you know for a fact you didn’t. They had made you another pair of black shorts with a chain connected to it and mint green knee pads, your shirt was nowhere to be seen - only the cropped jacket with fur - and red elbow pads. Your more conventional snow boots weren’t even in the case you received, just a pair of dainty heeled boots instead. To say you were mortified was an understatement, and you were not about to put the monstrosity on.

You raise your hand and gain the attention of your half asleep teacher, “Mr. Min! They’ve made my costume wrong! I can’t wear this for winter, I’ll freeze faster than water!”

“You can file for them to replace it with the correct one, but you’ll have to wear it for training in the meantime.” He sighs, pulling the forms out of the top drawer of his desk without even blinking an eye,

Now, almost two weeks into December and snow lying on the ground, you were still stuck with the same costume you’ve filed to be replaced 7 times already. Your friends had been entertained the first few times you were forced to wear the monstrosity during your classes, but as the weeks drug on and you’d be starting your internship at an agency in a few days, they started to feel bad that nobody was answering your requests for the costume change. They were starting to get as upset as you were, and Taehyung was probably the most upset by this. He saw your costume during a festival, and he was ready to beat your ass and Ara’s for keeping it from him.

“How could you let that go?!” Taehyung demands, gesturing to you and your provocative costume while glaring at his just as equally confused girlfriend.

Ara was not about to go down for a crime she did not commit, “I didn’t do this! I helped her design a wholesome costume that God, Jesus, and Mr. Rodgers would approve of! This is blasphemy!”

The two continue their conversation, Ara swearing on God and doughnuts that she would never let you wear anything like that until you were at least 18. You’re classmates are left in confusion, “These are your care-takers?”

“Yeah...they are…” You sigh, your arms wrapped around yourself.

But now you were at the point where you just had to suck it up, no matter how much you hated it. Thankfully, you had at least one friend joining you in the field, even if Jin did make dad jokes at the worst times.

“How do you get a squirrel to like you? Act like a nut!” Jin says, bursting into his laugh that sounds way too close to a windshield wiper. He was a gravity manipulator, so you both thought interning together would be a good chance to help each other expand on your quirks. Only now, you regret having his bright demeanor when you just want to curl into a ball. “Wait wait wait, I’ve got another one...Why don’t eggs tell jokes?”

“Why don’t egg-“ “They’d crack each other up!” He yells, interrupting you before you could ask why. He laughs at himself until he catches your bored expression, “What’s wrong? You usually like my jokes.”

You sigh, “Don’t get me wrong, Jin. I love your jokes, but I’m not exactly in the best of moods right now.”

“That’s why I started to tell you my jokes!” He defends. When you just shrug, he takes a look at your dainty costume compared to his own long sleeved, long pants, and large coat that still allowed him to move freely as he needed to. You looked ten times more miserable than he did. “Your costume must really be uncomfortable.”

“It’s below freezing and I’m wearing shorts with a crop top. What do you think?” You spit with no regard for his feelings.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, looking away to the path ahead of you. You sigh, “No, I’m sorry. You were only trying to help and I was rude for no reason.”

As you both get back to your patrol, you turn the corner and approach a shop that’s crowded by a group of men outside. One of them catches sight of you, “Hey, cutie! You looking to warm up with someone special this year?”

“Such a pretty thing~ Why don’t you come inside and I’ll buy you a nice warm drink?” Another jests, looking at every piece of you except for your face.

“A drink for me? You boys are really something else nowadays~ I hate to break it to you fellas, but I’m spoken for already!” Jin calls back with an award winning smile. He shrugs off his coat and throws it over your shoulders, followed by his arm that pulls you as close to him as he can manage without breaking the happy facade he’s putting up, “Good luck finding someone more beautiful than me!”

The men look disgusted and confused, but they decide to ignore the both of you as Jin leads you far away. You’re almost back to your agency when you finally speak up again, “Thanks Jin.”

“It’s the holiday season, and all they can think about is shouting obscenely at women. If I saw anyone shout at my mother or my future daughter like that, then I would have decked him square in the mouth.” He admits, sounding like a completely different person than you had just witnessed, “I just figured you would like it better if there wasn’t any confrontation at all.”

“Well, you were right. I can’t wait to get out of this costume and into my sweater.” You sigh, already seeing the agency doors at the end of the block. You look up to Jin out of the corner of your eye, “But I did enjoy the looks on their faces when you thanked them for their offer.”

“And I gave up that offer to continue our patrol together. Honestly, I think someone owes me a meal.” He suggests. He turns to you with a shy smile and squeezes your shoulder a little, “Maybe I could take you out after this?”

“I’d love to, but I have dinner planned tonight with my brother and his girlfriend.” You say. Jin looks a little disappointed, and you can’t help but smile, “But I know Ara wouldn’t mind feeding an extra mouth.”

Jin looks happy, but a sudden thought has him looking concerned, “And your brother?”

“He’ll get over it when I tell him about the date you gave up for me.” You shrug.

And you were right about that indeed. When you showed up at your door with Jin next to you - both of you wrapped in your coats and his arm over your shoulder - Taehyung was ready to brawl if you wouldn’t have sent a warning text to Ara. She had her arms wrapped around your brothers torso to keep him from moving without her, effectively slowing him down enough for you to get Jin inside and showing him the house. (You would have shown him your room where you kept your gaming PC, but Taehyung would actually murder both you and Ara if it meant no more boi.) By the time you got to the dinner table, Taehyung had calmed down enough to listen to your day and warm up to Jin just enough to have an actual conversation instead of an interrogation.

He liked him. You could tell.

And you weren’t surprised when they became the best of friends at the next dinner you invited him to.

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

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Archenemies to Superfriends

Do you know how hard it is to make Lila likeable? Do you know the struggle I went through to write this fic? I know I said I wanted a challenge, something unique. BUT WHAT THE HELL! This took me longer than my last two fics combined. Class salt but make Lila the good guy? Like seriously, do you hate me? I hope the Anon requester likes this.

"I regret that we meet in this way. You and I are of a kind. In a different reality, I could have called you friend." — Romulan Commander, Star Trek: The Original Series, "Balance of Terror"

It turned out there was a line Lila Rossi wouldn’t even cross. Sure, she wasn’t the nicest person in the world. Far from it. She was a liar, a thief, a cheater, a bully at times, a social climber.

But she wasn’t a monster.

As she looked the sketchbook in Alya’s hand, and the vindictive look on her face; Lila realized what was about to take place would push her over the line into monster status.

The school day had just ended. Most students had already left. Lila had been about to leave when Alya stopped her.

“How? How did you get it?” Lila asked. Surely Marinette wasn’t foolish enough to leave it around.

It was Alix who preened, “I snuck it out of her bag.”

“She’s been so mean to you, girl,” Alya said. “Marinette needs to learn a lesson.”

No, Marinette hadn’t been mean to her. Lila never even implied the bluenette had been mean to her. Lila spun her stories to the class, and whenever Marinette called her out for lying (which she was), the class would gang up on the Bluenette and accuse her of being jealous, of bullying poor Lila.

It was actually rather startling how fast the so call best friends had turned on the girl. Lila didn’t even have to push or instigate it like she usually did. No, a few promises of meeting famous celebrities, and they all rushed to do it on their own.

Rose’s sleepover. Rose didn’t invite Marinette at the other girls’ insistence so Lila wouldn’t feel unease.

Nino’s party. No one mentioned it Marinette. She had been acting crazily lately.

Trip to the movie. Marinette would just ruin it for everybody.

And so on and so forth. Until the class was going out of their way to avoid the bluenette. Some even went as far as verbally bashing the other girl and ending their friendships. It got to the point where no one, not even Adrien, would speak to Marinette; and ostracized her to the back of the class. Only Chloe defended the girl and sought out her friendship. To which Alya snorted, “Of course. Bullies belong with bullies.”

Now the class had moved on to destroying private property. Great.

Lila sighed. How was she going to get herself out of this one?

Lila prided herself on still being able to look at herself in the mirror at the end of the day. Despite all she had done and would be willing to do; Lila was firm on what she wouldn’t do.

Destroying someone’s life work; something they had spent months and months on, something that had nothing to do with Lila, was going too far.

Lila needed to move quickly. She eyed the sketchbook. It was a standard black sketchbook, nothing special. She owned a similar one herself that she used for quick doodles and to write down ideas.

That was when Lila got an idea. She quickly put her school books on the desk and beamed at her moronic classmates. Then all it took were quick sad eyes, and a can I hold it first, please. For Alya to hand it over. Then Lila accidentally spilled all off her books on the ground, and when everyone rushed to help her. Lila switched the two sketchbooks.

Then it took her classmates, not friends (never friends); Alya, Max Alix, Kim, Nino, Mylene, Ivan, all of ten seconds to destroy the book into as little pieces as they could. Never even bothering to look to see if it was actually Marinette’s work.

They left the pieces scattered on Marinette’s desk.

Just as they finished said girl rushed back into class, a frantic searching look on her face. It took her five seconds to notice the torn sketchbook on her desk. Pure devastation overtook her face, tears filled her blue eyes.

Alya snipped a mean retort about Karma and left the class with the other students following behind her. Not realizing Lila wasn’t among them. Not caring that she had just hurt the girl she had sworn was her bestie not too long ago.

Marinette stared quietly at the mess, not letting the tears fall. “Why?” She whispered.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” Lila told her. “You don’ have to believe me. But I swear I didn’t. This isn’t my m.o.”

Marinette wanted to lash out at the other girl; scream about it being her fault, and her being a liar. But she couldn’t even find words to speak.

“Here,” Lila said as she handed over the sketchbook. “I switched it with mine before they could… you know.”

Marinette blinked once, then twice, before she slowly reached for the book; hope filling her. And sure enough. Relief rushed through her. She thanked all the kwami. “Why?” She asked Lila. “You hate me.” That had been the basis for their relationship for months.

Lila snorted, “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone,” She shrugged. “Hate clouds judgment. You’re just my competition. No one likes their rival team.”

Marinette stared at the Italian girl. Rival team? Competition? What? “We’re not even competing for anything! If it's about Adrien. He’s yours. I don’t want him.” It turned out, the blond was too cowardly for her taste. Not enough backbone.

“Of course we’re competing!” Lila snapped. “Since I got to this school.”

“Over what?”

It was Lila’s turn to stare. Didn’t the other girl know? Hadn’t they been fighting for the top spot?

“Being the most popular girl in school.”

Marinette just looked confused. “But I’m not popular. Especially not now.”

“Not popular?” Lila could’ve cursed. “Not popular! On my first day, I didn’t go more than a foot before someone mentioned the wonderful Marinette. She’s so smart. She’s so sweet. She’s so EVERYTHING. I knew from day one we were archenemies. You knew it too. Why else would you try to call me out so much!”

“…I just don’t like liars.”

That time Lila did scream.

Because it wasn’t possible. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng hadn’t even realized they had been competing. This wasn’t just some delusional one-side battle on Lila’s side. No way.

“Why me?” Marinette asked, with a tilted head, reminded Lila of a puppy. “There are tons of more popular girls. Aurore; she’s the most beautiful girl in school. Ondine, she’s the best athlete. Ruby in drama was literally voted the most popular kid in school last year.”

“That’s different,” Lila waved it off. “Those girls are popular for one specific thing. Even Ruby was only voted because she throws the best parties. And even then, most only like them for that thing. Everyone likes you.” Or at least all but one class now.

A class that had proven to be worthless. Lila was starting to realize that she had been playing against her most noteworthy opponent, who apparently never realized they were competing, in a less than worthwhile game to be the most popular girl in class to get the approval of the students. Students who, again, weren’t worth it.

“You’re the only one worth a damn in this school,” Lila admitted as she sat down at her desk. “That’s why you. You’re the best. I want to beat the best.”

She never attacked the weak. She attacked the strong. She went after the strongest of the strong. Lila thrived off competition. She just didn’t want to win. She wanted to be The Winner. Lila wanted the number one spot engraved with her name. To do that she had to beat the best.

Her motto: A hero is only as good as his villain. The reverse is also true.

Lila knew since was a little girl that she would never make it the big leagues if she only fought small fries. So in every school, in every class; Lila found what was most important to her fellow students and went after it. Some school was easy. A few classes valued music; Lila started a band, with her as the lead singer, and knocked out her competition. Sports freaks; Lila always had a knack for futbol. Everyone in class fought to have the best grades (It only happened once) but Lila said bring it on.

Even she had to cheat, sabotage, lie, or whatever else to get to the top she’d do it. And she did. And she was always won.

She was the most popular kid in school within the month. Always.

As for her competition. Some fell easily; too easily for her taste. Some took months to fall. One guy took an entire year. His name had been Felix, and he been Lila’s favorite nemesis. He had fought with everything he had; pushed Lila far beyond her limits and made her think outside the box every time they went head to head.

He had been the joker to her Batman. (Afterall, every villain is a hero in their own mind)

But eventually, even Felix fell.

It had been glorious. A high that Lila road all the way to her new school in France.

Looking back, Lila should’ve known better. She should’ve known that Felix had been preparing her for her greatest battle yet. The fight of her lifetime. Against the greatest opponent, she would ever know.

Marinette.

The Superman to her Batman. All good things good and pure Versus the big bad of the night.

It had been a fight Lila had been waiting for her life. And yet it turned out, Marinette never even really noticed.

And to think, Lila had thought she had been winning. The class turned again Marinette. Everyone loved Lila. Except none of it seemed to bother the other girl. In fact, she seemed to get stronger.

For every friend Marinette lost, she found another; a better one. Aurore, Claude, Ondine, Marc, Luka, Bridgette; the list went on and on.

Alya voted to have Marinette removed as class president. Marinette gets on the student council. The class loses its most organized student. Lila declines the role of feigning that she was too busy. To make it worse all the well-planned birthday parties, school trips, free costume designer, and the random sweet day where baked goods were brought to class on particularly stressful school days, (all of which Lila had enjoyed).

Adrien no longer speaking to her. (Honestly, Lila never saw what anyone saw in the blond model besides the potential connection he offered. He was naive and a far too idealistic for her taste). Marinette gets twelve different boys, and three girls, asking her to the sweethearts dance.

Without the class clinging to her and demanding her time, Marinette seemed to thrive. No longer stressed; rarely ever late. Lila, on the other hand, found her days busier and busier as her classmates tried to lean on her more.

No matter the bad thing that happened, Marinette just stronger. And she never lost her positive attitude.

Marinette shook her head. This one turning out to be one strange day. “If you want the class, you can them. They’re my friends anymore.” She glanced at the pieces of the sketchbook on her desk. “I don’t know who they are in anymore.”

“Fame seekers,” Lila answered. “More concerned with what someone can do for than actual friendships. You get used to them.” She paused. “I don’t want them either. They’re…”

“Taxing,” Marinette offered as she sat down next to Lila. “Emotionally draining. Opinionated. Users.”

“Bad friends.”

“That too.”

It went quiet. Neither girl knowing what to say. Lila didn’t know what to do now that all competition was all but officially declared over. Marinette realized that her ex-friends' actions couldn’t be blamed on Lila. Everything they did was on their own. Forgiveness wasn’t going to happen. So what are they fighting for? What could they fight for?

“Truce?” Marinette offered. “I let the morons believe whatever you want. And you just leave me out of it.”

Lila nodded, “You go your way. I go mine.”

This was worse than Superman V Batman movie ending as far as Lila was concerned. At least no one died.

That was it. They left school that day feeling a little shook. Each girl agreed to move on and avoid each other.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

Somehow, slowly, Lila and Marinette became friends.

It started off small. Lila had needed a break from her groupies and hid in the art room. Marinette had been working in there.

“They too much again?” Marinette asked.

Lila winced but nodded.

“I used to hide in the back of the library,” Marinette offered. “On the roof. Any random classroom I could find. Sometimes, I even just left for my parents.”

“Seriously?” Lila asked. “They’ve always been like this.”

Marinette snorted. “Worse. Wait until they start asking you for favors. Which will turn into demands.”

“…They are just the worst.”

Then both girls laughed.

After that whenever Lila needed a break, she sought out the presence of the other girl. Sometimes they hung out in the library, on the roof, wherever. It was nice.

It wasn’t until Lila showed up in Marinette’s room, bitching about her mom canceling their plans together again. Marinette just listens to Lila’s sorrows and offered ice cream. They spent the entire night just bitching and watching reruns of Doctor Who. (It turned out Lila was a bit of nerd.) Lila slept over and slept easily for the first time in months.

That was when the two realized they were friends.

Marinette, Lila’s once declared greatest enemy, became her first real friend.

After that everything just fell together. Lila started showing up at Marinette’s and more.

Eventually, Lila being invited to Marinette’s girls’ night and being introduced to a new friend to Chloe, Kagami, Aurore, and Ondine.

Upon seeing her, Chloe snorted, “She got you too, huh. It’s the eyes. Don’t look her in the eyes.”

“Yes,” Kagami agreed. “I, too, had declared Marinette my rival. Now I wear bunny pajamas and adorn avocado oatmeal face masks.”

Well shit, Lila thought as she eyed Marinette’s former rivals, did I ever stand a chance?

The answer was no.

But Lila didn’t mind.

After that Chloe found herself having more actually friends than ever before. In Chloe, she found a second-best friend. Someone she could always bitch with, and not just to. The blond had the presence Lila had always strived for. Chloe stalked through the hall like a model on the runway. People jumped out of her way. She was a phenomenal force to be reckoned, likened to Wonder Woman.

Marinette and Lila were two peas in a pod. They both strived to the best, thrived under pressure, and loved fashion. But while Lila wanted to model and be in front of the camera, Marinette wanted to design.

Lila loved Marinette’s clothes and decided the girl need a bit of a push. So she reached out to Chloe, and together they teamed up to convince Marinette to start her own website. It took a bit of work but MDC designs were officially online. All designs, of course, were modeled by Lila, Chloe, and Marinette’s other girlfriends. Lila had never felt so glamorous. Marinette never looked so happy.

Lila started being the one Marinette went to whenever she needed someone to cover for babysitting. Or had to have a random excuse as to why she wasn’t present. And Lila did both jobs remarkably well.

Still, despite their friendship, Lila was a bit surprised to get Marinette’s birthday invitation. Marinette made her promise not to tell anyone. Even more so, when Marinette took her and Chloe, Kagami, Luka, Claude, Marc, Aurore, and Ondine to Clara Nightingale concert. They had backstage passed and Lila nearly died when Clara rushed over to hug Marinette after a song. Lila took a lot of pictures, even one of her and the superstar together, but didn’t post them.

Which left Marinette happily surprised. Apart, though small, still expected Lila to boast in class about the additional celebrity she knew. But that never happened. Marinette felt relief and a bit guilty, she supposed some part of her was testing the other girl to see if she could trust her; and was happy to find out Lila had passed.

Despite their Lila and Marinette’s friendship things at school didn’t change. The other students in class still froze Marinette out. Lila, though, did her best to keep them from doing anything mean to the bluenette. Though this only happened when the other students needed something Marinette used to do for them; like free babysitting, custom-designed dresses, stage design, and interview with Ladybug, it wasn’t going to happen. Or when the class trips were lackluster at best.

Lila hadn’t realized just how much she and Marinette had grown to like and trust each other until Ladybug showed up in her room. She was prepared to send a barging remark to the hero who had nearly sabotaged her attempts to win over Adrien, thus the rest of the class, when Ladybug spoke.

“Marinette sent me,” The red hero said. “She said I could trust you; that you’d make a good hero.” And then Ladybug showed her the fox miraculous, a replica of the one Lila used to wear.

Lila’s mouth dropped opened.

“As soon as the fight’s done, you’ll need to return it to me,” Ladybug stated firmly. “Do you understand.”

And just like that Volpina was reborn. Her costume was darker than before, her tail a bit longer and curved. Her mask black.

Ladybug and Volpina fought side by side against a Clown Akuma that turn people into balloon animals. During the fight, Volpina learned that Chat Noir had, once again, abandoned Ladybug after the hero turned down his affections. Lila never felt so much disgust. What kind of hero was that?

After the fight, Volpina and Ladybug met back up in Lila’s room and Lila immediately handed over the miraculous.

“Thanks for the help,” Ladybug smiled as he pocked the necklace.

Lila nodded, “Chat Noir was wrong. What he’s doing is sexual harassment. Like seriously, look it up. No means no. You shouldn’t have to take that.”

“He’s my partner.”

“He’s not acting like it.”

The words seemed to affect Ladybug who visibly wilted. She didn’t say another word as she left.

However, not long after Lila found herself being called forth to fight as Volpina more and more. Chat Noir never showing up once.

When both heroines were confronted by a furious Alya, live streaming, Lila learned something.

“What happened to Rena Rouge?” Alya demanded, hurt and anger in her eyes. “Why replace her with this faux-hero? And what about the rest of the new team Miraculous; Viperion, BrightRoar, and Ryuko. What about the old team?”

Faux-hero? Ladybug had to physically stop Volpina from ripping into the reporter.

“Rena Rouge has been retired,” Ladybug glared. “She proved herself to be untrustworthy. In fact, all former heroes such as Caraprace and Chat Noir have been retired. They have been replaced by permanent heroes like Volpina, here, Queen Bee, Viperion, BrightRoar, and Ryuko. They have proven themselves to loyal and capable heroes.”

No one knew who was more stunned Lila or Alya. She was a permanent hero? Chat Noir had been replaced? What?

“What?” Alya asked. “Rena was amazing. A much better hero than some people,” She gave a dirty look to Volpina. “And You and Chat Noir belonged together. Everyone says so!”

“Rena was a good hero,” Ladybug said. “But outside the mask, she proved herself unworthy. As for me and Chat Noir. I’ve said countless times, I felt nothing but friendship for him. It was Chat Noir and tabloid sites like the Ladyblog that hyped up that nonsense.”

“Tabloid?” Alya shrieked.

“Yes, tabloid.” Ladybug hissed. “Why do think I stopped working with you?”

In retrospect, Lila should’ve realized sooner the fallout that would happen not long after. Alya wasn’t the type of person to own up to her own mistakes. However, Lila had been so busy cheering at being a new permanent hero that she got a little distracted.

After Ladybug called her out, Alya spent all every ounce energy to find out how she went from Ladybug’s goto to Ladybug’s no go. And then answer was in the comments to her videos of Lila. All calling out the Italian to be a liar.

By Monday, everyone in the class knew. As soon as Lila walked into class, Alya tore into accused her of lying and ruining her blog.

TO which Lila gave big crocodile tear-filled eyes, “I just wanted to make friends.” She tried to gain sympathy. It didn’t work.

Soon all the class was screaming at her.

It stopped when Bustier and Marinette walked into class.

Bustier looked like a deer caught in the headlines, unsure of what to do.

Marinette had looked directly at Lila, “You can sit in back with me and Chloe.”

“Girl’s, she a liar,” Alya hissed. “You were right.”

Marinette scoffed, “And yet she’s a better friend than you ever were.” She looked at Lila again, ignoring the protests from her classmates around her. “Come on.

Lila smiled as the two girls made their way to the back of the classroom to join Chloe in the back.

Lila, Marinette, and Chloe sent matching Ice Queen looks to the rest of the students in class; daring them to say something, to approach.

And just like the heroes: Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman, Lila likened them to be; no one would even consider it.

It wasn’t like anyone else in the class was worth a damn anyway.

#ml salt #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupen chang #chloe bourgeois #lila rossi #class salt

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zdbztumble · 6 years ago

Text

Final Thoughts: KH III (Spoilers)

OK, the nice stuff’s over with.

And, in the spirit of Kingdom Hearts, here’s a menu to unceremoniously dump all the necessary information on you to follow this post:

Rave Zero

A Minor Rant

More Ranting

Botching Backwards and Forwards

But What About Kairi

Build a Better Prequel

Penultima Raving

The Positives

Now then...

Writing critiques like this is usually fun for me. I like thinking about and analyzing narratives, as mental exercise and relaxation, and because I find it helpful as a writer struggling to make fiction my profession. Finding the good and bad in a piece, understanding why something works or doesn’t, and putting myself in the shoes of a writer - particularly one in the middle of an ongoing series - improves my own craft and gives me more empathy and sympathy for creatives who come under fire.

In this case, though, I can’t say that I have much in the way of sympathy or empathy. I cannot understand how any head of story could come up with something like this and decide that it was ready for prime time. I can’t understand how writers brought in to do the actual scripting wouldn’t speak up about its issues. I can’t understand how editors, producers, and executives would sign off on this. And by “this,” I mean the finale of KH III. I haven’t loved the story turns this series has taken since the end of II, and I’ve struggled to make sense of all the convoluted turns the plot has taken, but this - or, to be specific, one moment in particular - is completely beyond my ability to understand, relate to, or tolerate.

Before getting to that one moment, though, there are other issues with this finale. One of those is the problem of paying off too large a cast: it’s almost impossible to do while giving every character a satisfying conclusion. By the time the game comes to its conclusion, most of the characters have either hit dead ends in their arcs, petered out, or been demonstrated to be entirely superfluous to this game’s plot. To wit:

- Maleficent and Pete could have been cut entirely and nothing would have been lost. Cutting them would even improve the pacing of the Olympus world slightly. Their whole goal amounts to nothing but a tease for an item that might become important in a potential future game. Luxord’s quest for a “chest,” presumably the same Black Box, has the same problem, but at least Luxord is a part of the Organization and so has some reason for being in the story.

- Ansem the Wise is ultimately on-hand just to tease more potential future events and characters, in the form of allusions to a mysterious girl who I thought might be Kairi, then thought was Xion, but is apparently some other character never before mentioned (thank you @themattress.) I bought KH III to play and know the story of KH III; if I wanted an extended trailer for a future game that may not even get made, I’d pay for one.

- Those members of the Organization who don’t defect, and who commanded quite a bit of screen time in this game (more than the damn tritagonist did) are virtually unchanged from their previous appearances, still serve as glorified henchmen, and meet largely identical ends. The attempts at pathos with them, particularly with Larxene, ring hollow, and the idea that the recompletion gimmick might let them appear again some day in a new form is...unpleasant.

- Did you really need Ienzo and Vexen both? Take either one of them out, and the other could have cooked up the necessary replicas.

- Axel’s never-seen training with a Keyblade amounts to almost as little as Kairi’s, as he ultimately doesn’t do much but serve as an impetus for the return of Roxas and the defection of Xion. And once those two are back on the scene, they don’t have all that much to do but point their keys at whatever the group needs them to. Their presence takes us over the required number of seven, so they are quite literally unnecessary.

- Vanitas and his quest to assimilate Ven ultimately amounts to nothing, for how important it was in BbS and his continued seeking it here. He becomes just another boss battle, destined to fade away.

- Aside from filling out the full seven, Aqua and Ven don’t get all that much to do in the battle. Terra and Sora do the heavy lifting in getting Terra liberated, and by the end, Eraqus tells Terra to be the one to look out for the group. Not Aqua, the master who spent most of BbS trying to set things to right - Terra, the impulsive quasi-Anakin Skywalker who ended up possessed by the villain.

- Riku and Mickey are the exception to this, as I think carrying them through as Sora’s battle partners in the showdown with the three young Xehanorts, and giving them the bulk of the dialogue in the final cutscenes, gives them a meaningful role to play in the finale.

But since Eraqus has been mentioned...that leads us to the next problem. Because I still don’t understand how Eraqus managed to hide his heart inside of Terra’s (and yes, I have seen the BbS cutscene.) But setting aside the mechanics; the idea that Eraqus has been alive this whole time, that he can stop Xehanort with a gentle talking-to, and extending the metaphor of their chess game in their youth this far, makes everything that happens feel so much smaller. And giving Xehanort - a villain who was made, in looks and personality, more evil from BbS on - is a baffling choice. He isn’t the first villain to have a less-than-convincing redemption in this series, of course. And, were it done better, I might be more tolerant of it. But it isn’t.

And having that about-face brought about by Eraqus lessens Sora’s part in the finale. His brave venture after Xehanort, Donald and Goofy by his side, makes for a nice boss battle. It’s less impressive than the one in KH I IMO, but I do like that Donald and Goofy are with him for nearly the entire thing. The Trinity revival at the end of it is a great touch, though I would’ve preferred some sort of beam struggle to cap it off. But one of Sora’s qualities - one that this game, and DDD, loved to spell out as blatantly as possible - is his ability to reach and connect with people. Outsourcing that to another character, leaving Sora as the brute force in the conflict with Xehanort, leaves him and one of his most defining and positive character traits sidelined at the crucial moment. I grant you that Sora probably isn’t all that well disposed to the man who killed Kairi, but you would think he’d have some function beyond swinging his blade and holding a key.

But in the end, the apocalypse is averted, and Sora leaves his friends behind to try and save Kairi. Cue the closing cutscene, with happy endings aplenty. Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Yen Sid, Chip, and Dale get a warm welcome home in Disney Castle. Terra, Aqua, and Ven get their home back, and Ven gets his little cat thing that he apparently had once. Axel, Roxas, and Xion get their sea salt ice cream again, reunite with Hayner, Pence, and Olette, and it turns out that even Saix is on-hand (because, y’know, that bond he had with Axel was so organic and essential to pay off.) Namine is brought back (according to a recent interview, this is possible because her heart was released from Kairi’s when Kairi was killed), and Riku turns up to take her to a big party on Destiny Islands. With literally everyone on-hand, Donald is the first to notice Sora and Kairi sitting on the paopu tree together, holding hands. Kairi looks up at Sora, smiles, and starts to cry. Sora then fades away, leaving Kairi alone.

Now we’re at that moment.

I was so confused the first time I saw this scene, and watching it in the theater menu a few times didn’t help. Talking with @echidnapower about it helped me puzzle together that Sora must have paid the price for abusing the Power of Waking. It was hard to track those warnings amidst all the other pretentious monologuing and schoolyard taunting that the Organization did, and amidst all the other plot threads in this game - but, fair enough. That was some clear foreshadowing. And, just like with Kairi’s death, I can’t object to the idea out of hand. KH I ended on a shocking bittersweet note, after all. Ending the Xehanort saga, and possibly the series, with the main character failing to heed all warnings and losing his own life while managing to save the person he cares most about, is a bold idea. Pulled off properly, I’d be in tears while writing my review, but I’d be applauding the guts and skill of the creative team.

But is Sora’s quest to find Kairi made into a final stage, or even a cutscene? No. Is his final misuse of the Power of Waking shown? No. Is it even clear whether Kairi reappeared at the same time as Sora, or if she’d been there on the beach with everyone else before he turned up? No. And is any of this, in any way, made a central element of the final scene? No. The possibly permanent death of our protagonist, caused by his final solo quest to save Kairi, is such an afterthought at the end that not a single aspect of the journey to that moment merits any screen time.

And don’t tell me that this might be something covered in the DLC, or that it could be setting up for another game. If they wanted to leave Sora and Kairi’s fate more open-ended, and a potential hook into a future game, they should have been left out of the final scene altogether. The Power of Waking, Sora’s shaky control of it, and its dangers were meant to be relevant to this story. Sora and Kairi’s bond being stretched to the point that one or both of them could permanently die was meant to be a major factor in this story. I’m all for leaving certain things off-screen, open-ended, or open to interpretation, but if anything should merit some degree of resolution within this game itself, to say nothing of a goddamn cutscene, it’s the potentially final fate of our fucking hero.

It feels like such an afterthought that I’m forced to wonder why Sora was ever retained as the protagonist past KH II. One solution to the current crop of issues with Kingdom Hearts, as I’ve already gone into, would have been to simplify; fewer titles between console releases and a much less convoluted story that stayed focused on the actual leads. But it’s almost impossible not to come away from the post-II games feeling that most of the staff’s passion has drifted to other characters and elements. Axel, Roxas, and Xion; Terra, Aqua, and Ven; all the convoluted plotting and betraying and cryptic messages of Organization XIII; and now all this X business; it seems clear that that’s where the focus is now. Square Enix is no stranger to cyclic and anthology series; there was more than enough precedent to retire Sora and friends and continue Kingdom Hearts with new protagonists. Those who enjoy all these elements could have them unadulterated, and those of us who prefer Sora’s story could be content with three great games. Hell, Kingdom Hearts as a whole could’ve been retired at II, with the characters and elements most favored forming the foundation for an original series; the staff still seems jazzed to cross over with Disney, but they’ve become increasingly unable to meaningfully connect those worlds to the larger story, excepting a handful of characters from Disney Castle. An original series wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Instead, an ultimately untenable path was trod, trying to keep all of these things to play, the ultimate price being a final game to the saga that leaves every single storyline feeling less than it could be. Kairi may get the worst of it blow by blow, but I would say that Sora - the protagonist - is the second-worst hit, and that I cannot comprehend as a writer.

When I first got the feeling that something bad might happen to either Sora or Kairi, or both, I was prepared to be sad at the end of this game, but I expected to be sad the same way I was at the end of KH I - in an ultimately positive way, having been sincerely and surprisingly moved by a story I came to love. At the end of KH III, I’m sad in another way entirely; I’m sad because I feel nearly all my enthusiasm for this series evaporated along with Sora. I was planning to buy copies of I, CoM, and II to replace the ones I had to sell years ago; if I end up doing that when I have the money, it’ll be as an effort to get back to what first charmed me about the series.

Hopefully, I can still find that charm there, but I don’t know what would make me excited for future releases. What reason do I have to hope that the flaws of the recent games, culminating in III, will be corrected or even recognized as flaws? The Epilogue and Secret Movie certainly don’t give any hope. For all the talk about III being the finale to the Dark Seeker saga, the convoluted Keyblade War lore it spawned and at least one of its more annoying characters seem set to continue on. The Nameless Star and that girl alluded to by Ansem (who I hope for simplicity's sake are the same person) represent yet another new character shoved into the mix. And the Secret Movie may give some people hope for Sora, but it just left me numb.

I’ll go ahead and predict what the next game of the series, if there is one, will be, based on those two scenes: either the game is ostensibly about what Sora went through to save Kairi, with a retcon pulled to suck Riku into the mix; or, it’s set after the final scene of KH III, with Riku - not Kairi, but Riku - going in search of Sora. Either way, in practice the game’s plot will be taken up by a mess of a plot concerning the Black Box and/or the Book of Prophecies and all that crap from Kingdom Hearts X: Back Cover (a movie I could not bring myself to finish, I was so bored), all the while taking any chance it can get to salvage as much of the aborted Final Fantasy Versus XIII as possible. Kairi will be lucky to get a cameo, the Disney worlds will barely have any relevance, Maleficent will get elbowed off to the sides, and if Sora comes back to life and remains the hero, he’ll still be relegated to a spectator and an afterthought to make room for all the things that the team really cares about.

Cynical, you say? Bitter, perhaps? You’re not wrong. And I’d love for another Kingdom Hearts game to come out and make me eat crow. But for whatever joy Kingdom Hearts III brought me as a game, it’s been a truly painful experience as a story. With no pleasure, I can honestly say that in terms of a failed narrative; in terms of completely missing the mark on where the focus should lie; and in terms of feeling like an almost deliberate insult or dismissal of what made these characters and this series wonderful to begin with; no narrative with the Disney name on it, or perhaps at all, has left me so upset since Maleficent. And for me to be saying that, is saying something.

#critique #commentary #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #disney #sora #kairi #z's crits

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