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tearsoftime0086 · 11 months ago

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Zero-Sum Escape: A Close Reading of Code Veronica’s Steve Burnside

Introduction + Disclaimers

If you’re a friend/mutual/unfortunate witness to my discovery of Steve Burnside, you might’ve seen this coming. I’ve become an avid enjoyer of the character, which has led to some interesting discussions about him with friends! I’ve decided to write a small (edit: it was supposed to be small) piece on what makes him so interesting, using quotes and cutscenes from the original Code Veronica game. A lot of online discourse around Steve has historically been negative, so I hope this can be a positive primer for folks who want to learn more about him, or even an interesting curio for folks wondering why someone would do such an in-depth read for a one-off character.

This reading will focus strictly on Code Veronica (and not any of the Darkside Chronicles material) – with the full understanding that many aspects of the game are a product of their time, good and bad. I’ll try to cite my evidence as much as possible, but this will obviously be coming from a subjective and modern perspective as a fan of his character! I’m also a fairly new Resident Evil fan, so if anything’s incorrect, please forgive me and let me know! I’d be happy to make edits.

Anyway, this is all in good fun – and to anyone who even reads a single sentence of this, I appreciate your time!

Reference

As a way to “cite” dialogue and cutscenes, I’ll be including rough timestamps to this great video of Code Veronica cutscenes: https://youtu.be/ym46RPHqaSY?si=a6ItTpdOn3rCZq-U. Feel free to follow along, but the text should make sense without the video too.

So, who is this guy, anyway?

Let’s start with the basics. In the game Resident Evil – Code: Veronica (taking place shortly after RE:2), you start as Claire Redfield, recent prisoner of Rockfort Island. Unfortunately, Claire finds herself in the midst of another biohazard outbreak. And what’s worse is that during her escape, a stranger in a watchtower starts shooting at her indiscriminately! (0:05)

When the dust settles, Claire comes face to face with an abrasive teenager named Steve Burnside, a fellow prisoner on the island.

“Uh, sorry about that little misunderstanding…” (0:43)

This, alongside his attempts to be “smooth” – (I mean, who says “Relax beautiful…” unironically?) doesn’t do him any favors for most players. Not to mention his active derision of Claire’s skills – he leaves her with a few choice “tsks” and a “I don’t want you following me, lady. You’ll only slow me down.” (1:30).

This opening scene sets up a few key characteristics for Steve, which I’ll be referencing throughout this piece.

Steve is someone who makes numerous mistakes, ranging from purely accidental to sheer negligence.

Steve puts a heavy emphasis on reliability/dependability. He leaves Claire because he thinks she will “slow [him] down”. We’ll see more examples of his complex with “relying on others” later on.

Where do these traits leave us? A character that ends up being deeply paradoxical, and in my opinion, super fascinating because of it.

“You’ll just end up disappointed if you rely on others”

Claire finds Steve somewhat quickly afterwards, perusing information about her brother, Chris. I think it’s important to recognize Steve’s intent here. If he was purely focused on escaping (and leaving Claire behind), he wouldn’t have bothered looking for any records relating to her. Some folks may argue that he has a crush on Claire already, and is just following teenage impulses. But trust me, there’s more concrete evidence of teenage impulses later. For now, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was trying to help her out – it ties well with point 2.

Steve’s snooping reveals that Chris is being monitored by Umbrella. Claire immediately takes action, contacting Leon about it. At this point, Steve sarcastically tells her,

“That file shows latitude and longitude of this place. Tch, why don’t you send your brother the coordinates and ask him to come help?” (2:20)

When Claire takes him completely seriously, he becomes prickly.

S: “Hey? I was just kidding? There’s no way he could get here, even if he is your brother.” C: “Yes he can; I’m sure of it.” S: “No way. He won’t come. You’ll just end up disappointed if you rely on others. Believe me, I know!”

Steve’s sudden anger and exit demonstrate how much this topic of “reliability” affects him. He’s vocal about his need for self-reliance – and yet, if we take his investigation in a positive light, it’s not like he’s completely selfish in his attempt to escape Rockfort.

Steve is someone who desperately wants to believe in human reliability, and yet has been spurned due to the circumstances of his imprisonment. We’ll see that he tries to emulate it himself, but unfortunately (and perhaps realistically) falls short.

Yet, what really nurtures this desire is Claire – someone who he can finally depend on. The pair’s next encounter comes when Steve is in trouble (if you’ve seen the “Steve is suffering” memes, it’s from this scene). The player hears him yell a pitiful “Help me!” as he bangs against a locked door – so much for relying on yourself.

If Claire solves the puzzle fast enough, Steve escapes and tells her, “That was too close. But I found something. Thanks to… you.” (3:44).

Thus begins the two’s shaky partnership – and believe me, it’s shaky. Steve runs off yet again, only agreeing to give Claire the essential golden lugers if she trades him something “fully automatic”. But Steve’s obviously on better terms with her now, as seen when he emphatically tells her, “See? This is why you need me. I got your back,” later (5:10). Quite cooperative for someone who was crowing about not relying on others.

In the midst of these scenes is a growing desire to look good to Claire – to be someone she can count on.

The knight fantasy – and bitter reality

Steve ends up describing his own motivation pretty well. Claire finds herself stuck with a nasty Bandersnatch, before Steve dramatically comes to her rescue (more on this in the next section). Afterwards, he eagerly proclaims the following:

S: “Oh yeah, that felt good! Don’t worry Claire, your knight in shining armor is here!” C: “You wish – but thanks for the help.” S: “See? This is why you need me. I got your back.” (4:54)

Steve wants Claire to see him as someone she can rely on – as a self-proclaimed knight to save her from the influx of zombies. It’s why he tells her to wait as he clears out the following area with his “new toy” (6:35). He wants to be the hero who saves the day – Claire might not be able to count on others, but she can sure count on him. He even states it outright afterwards:

“See? You can depend on me.” (6:58)

But maybe this is too blatant of a turn even for him, because he immediately backs off and instead mentions his guns instead:

“You see? This thing is a lot more reliable than any person.” (6:59)

Claire takes immediate suspicion of this, however, and starts to ask questions.

C: “Than people?” S: “…” C: “Steve, what were you doing here? Who brought you here, and where’s your family?” S: “Shut up – I don’t want to talk about it!” *shoots his gun at the wall* C: “Steve…” S: “Never mind. Let’s get going.” (7:04)

Note that he punctures this conversation with an angsty emptying of his gun magazine at the wall. This is no knight – this is volatile, teenage behavior. Claire can tell there’s something on his mind, but Steve doesn’t seem to be in the condition to explain anything.

Steve does the same thing four times – aka, analyzing entrances

As a brief interruption (but it ties into the rest, I promise), let’s take a chance to look at the different ways Steve barges into a cutscene. Humor aside, Steve’s physical actions vary across the four different times he comes to Claire’s “rescue”.

Bandersnatch (4:30)

The first rescue is all cliches and edge. Claire’s “knight in shining armor” breaks through a window dramatically. He shoots at the Bandersnatch without even directly aiming at him, walking forward as he shoots with his dual wielded lugers. It’s almost comical as he walks straight up to the Bandersnatch, delivering a kick and single killing shot for good measure.

It’s all impractical – Steve’s incessant wish to dual wield would hardly be effective in real life, let alone everything else here. But this scene, cliche as it may be, reflects what Steve wants to be in front of Claire. He’s the action hero, the knight – the one who can be counted on to swoop in and save the day.

The Infamous Father Scene (8:13)

These heroics fail him once the two encounter his father. No longer is this a fantasy but bitter reality – and Steve can’t find it in him to shoot his infected dad. It’s only when Claire is in peril that he takes action – and this time, it’s impulsive and rough. He unloads all his ammo in a single, shaking shot, continuing to press the trigger even when it’s all gone.

It’s now that Steve tells Claire the full story – his father was caught trying to sell confidential Umbrella information, leaving his mother dead and the two of them locked up here. He morosely tells Claire, “He was a fool to do something so reckless! So stupid…” (10:15). We can see how much his father’s actions have impacted him – his desire for consistency comes from having his familial life ripped apart by the actions of someone he trusted dearly. And now, at the end of it, he is truly alone – the last one left in his family.

Alfred (11:07)

The next time we find Steve, we see a little bit of the Bandersnatch energy back in him – there’s the same aim, the same kick (to open the door) – but it’s less dramatic this time. There’s no slow-motion focus on shattered glass, no cocky final shot. In fact, this encounter leaves Steve visibly hurt – a crack in his armor. Steve’s still trying to be Claire’s dependable rescuer, and yet this encounter shows that he’s not the infallible knight he wishes to be. Far from it, considering the mistakes he'll make later on.

Alfred in Antarctica (21:30)

This cutscene skips forward a little, but it’s a nice final reminder that Steve does genuinely try his best to protect Claire, and succeeds! We see him take two stylish leaps and then shoot a quick few bullets to rescue her from Alfred. He’s still trying to emulate that knight image, but it’s more efficient than his Bandersnatch moment.

The Flight (and THAT SCENE)

After numerous troubles, Claire and Steve are finally able to escape the island. Needless to say, they’re elated and exhausted. Now that the coast is clear, Steve decides to get honest with Claire and apologize:

S: “Claire, I’m sorry. I know I caused a lot of trouble for you.” C: “No; it’s okay. It was hard for both of us.” S: “Well, I really hope you find your brother. I… I know what it’s like to be alone.” C: “Oh Steve…” S: *coughs awkwardly* “So, where should we go now? I can take you anywhere you want to go, Claire.” C: *laughs* “I hear Hawaii’s nice this time of year.” S: “You got it!” (14:20)

(On a personal note, isn’t this scene so cute? If only this was how it all ended…)

It’s here that Steve bares his heart to Claire. It’s clear that his mishaps and snarky remarks have been weighing on him too – he genuinely wants the best for her. When Claire is all too accepting and sympathetic, however, Steve begins to reveal his feelings (in… controversial ways).

After they find out that the plane is out of their control, the two of them take an uneasy rest. In the cutscene at 16:12, we find Claire leaning on Steve – a physical sign of how she relies on him. As if to follow his teenage impulses, Steve leans in for a kiss – only to startle as Claire begins to wake. His notion is thwarted immediately. Steve stands up,leans on the glass, slams the window and sighs.It shows signs of a “what was I thinking?” moment of clarity.

After all, kissing princesses in their sleep is something knights do in fairy tales. And Steve? Well, he’s no knight. He’s someone who’s almost hindered Claire’s escape as much as he’s helped, and he knows that. This thought is only exacerbated with his actions upon their arrival in Antarctica.

Antarctica, where more mistakes ensue

The plane decides to violently crashes into the side of the Umbrella Antarctica base. Steve kicks the door down and jumps first, reaching his arms out to catch Claire. She lands after, only to stumble and leave them both on the ground. Steve pulls her into a hug, which Claire doesn’t quite reciprocate. As she stands up, Steve lays back flat on the floor, sighing. It’s clear he’s jumped the gun, and it leaves him embarrassed. He doesn’t take Claire’s hand back up and tells her that they should split up to try and find a way out (18:55).

Steve’s love causes another mistake shortly after. The two of them try to break through the base wall with a digging vehicle, only for Steve to get distracted by Claire midway through. This causes a toxic gas pipe to burst – interestingly Steve tries to correct it through the controls – perhaps a reflection of his desires and fantasies for an “undo”. But in reality, he can’t undo his mistakes, and Claire is forced to grab him and leave the area.

This last mistake hits Steve particularly hard:

S: “It’s all my fault…” C: “Don’t say that. Listen to me – we’ll escape from here, together.” C: “Come on, we’ve got to shut off the gas. If we split up, we’ll have a better chance of stopping it.” S: *sighs* “…Okay.” C: “Steve. Don’t forget. We’ll get out of here. Together.” (20:45)

It’s not as if Steve is blind to his own faults – he knows that he’s been the one hindering their escape and takes it particularly hard. Claire has to reassure him multiple times that they’re working as a team to get out of here.

As a further blow to his ego, Steve is completely useless when the two exit the base and encounter Nosferatu, previous Alexander Ashford. Claire notices Nosferatu first, but Steve forces himself ahead of her soon after. He’s still clinging to the need to protect her.

However, Nosferatu easily knocks him off the platform, leaving him clinging to the side. Steve’s at his lowest here, and urges Claire to just leave him behind. If he can’t protect her, then what use is he?”

C: “Hold on, I’ll waste that monster and come back.” S: “Claire, forget about me. Run!” (23:50)

Claire’s resourcefulness and skill allow her to defeat Nosferatu and come back to Steve, still weakly hanging on. She pulls him back up, and Steve is left apologizing again for his rash behavior:

S: “I’m sorry. I failed you.” C: “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.” *she leaves* S: “I swear I’ll protect you next time, Claire.” (25:15)

At this point, Steve’s all too aware of how his mistakes have left both of them in peril. It’s something that he deeply dislikes – as someone who wants to be dependable, he’s being a poor show of it. Claire’s been the one helping him out through most of this, both emotionally and physically. And so he makes himself a promise that next time, he’ll repay the favor.

It’s with this personal promise that the two climb aboard a snowmobile, hoping that they can make it to the Australia base. Unfortunately, this escape is a dead-end for them as well.

Sleep, weary knight

After Alexia awakens and destroys the snowmobile, Claire is rescued by Chris, who managed to find a way to Antarctica. She’s insistent that they must rescue Steve. She finds him cuffed to a chair in a long hallway, with an axe against his throat.

To Claire’s dismay, it seems she’s too late. Alexia has injected Steve with the t-Veronica virus. Steve’s last words before his transformation are a desperate plea for help. At this point, he’s actively asking for help from the one he loves, but fate has it that Claire is powerless. He begs Claire to save him, but she can only watch in despair as he morphs and chases after her.

In what seems to be a miracle of love, Steve manages to snap out of it just before he lands the killing blow. He instead slashes through Alexia’s entrapping vines, sparking her ire and a fatal blow to his chest. He dies in Claire’s arms, once again in human form, lamenting how he couldn’t protect her – how he couldn’t be her knight:

C: “Oh Steve…” S: *brings Claire’s hand to his cheek* “You’re… warm…” C: “Steve, you’ve got to hang in there, okay? My brother’s come to save us. We’re getting out of here!” S: “Your brother kept his promise. I’m sorry I cannot…” C: “What? What are you saying?” S: “I’m glad that I met you… I…. I love you… Claire…” C: “Steve? Steve?! Steve!” (34:15)

To players who dislike Steve, this may be a cheesy ending to a tedious character. And yet – we see Steve’s character arc complete fully in this final scene. No longer is he a volatile teenager, or a “cool” hero, or a self-perceived deadweight. He’s just Steve – utterly human Steve, who couldn’t keep his promise, and yet saved Claire in his own way. And it’s in these final, human, moments that he can confess his true feelings – only for everything – his façades, his love, everything – to all vanish.

The arm theory

As a somewhat lighter ending to this post, I’d like to discuss a little theory of mine.

People who have been following along with all the cutscenes might have noticed Steve’s right arm getting injured during the fight with Alfred. There’s no visual effect on his model, and Steve even claims, “I’m fine; it’s just a scratch” (11:30). And yet I’m convinced that it was quite a serious wound.

Note that he continues clinging to the platform in the Nosferatu battle with his left hand (24:40), not his right. Yet he keeps clutching his right arm in the cutscene after (25:44). And more importantly, Claire is the one driving the snowmobile during their escape attempt, after Steve had taken the wheel so many times prior (25:59). My theory is that the deterioration of his right arm is also why the arm is significantly skinnier upon his final transformation. If you look super closely at the bottom of the screen, you can actually see his right hand convulse as he mutates! Does this imply anything? Not really. But it would be cool to see this brought back somehow in a hypothetical remake, especially as Darkside Chronicles skipped these parts entirely. Kind of reminds me of another Resident Evil character who had arm injuries…

Anyway, if anyone made it this far, thank you! I hope this was a little insight into why I appreciate Steve so much as a character – and maybe in my wildest dreams, made you potentially enjoy him too.

#resident evil #resident evil: code veronica #recv #steve burnside #claire redfield #bits and baubles #temporary brainworm tag #aka my long meta post for steve that I hope did him justice

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casualsavant · 11 months ago

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20 Questions

I realized that I hadn't done this yet. Thanks @nottawriter for the tag.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 total. 16 for Charlie's Angels (1976) and 10 Supercorp.

2. What’s your total AO3 words count?

377,451 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Supercorp now. Though it looks like I have more Charlie's Angels works, the lion's share of my word count AFAIK is Supercorp.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Deliverance (Part 4 of the Yearning Series)

Where Love Commands The Whole (Supercorptober 2023 prompt "Money")

Insensate No Longer (Part 2 of the Yearning Series)

Sensibility (Part 1 of the Yearning Series)

Found (Part 3 of the Yearning Series)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to every comment that isn't outright abusive (I simply delete those). Though it takes me a while to do so because I tend to have incredible anxiety after I post anything and I need it to subside before I can respond. I am deeply grateful for the comments though.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I never leave things at an angsty ending. I suppose if you're talking about stories that form part of a series then "Insensate No Longer" has the most angsty ending as a single work.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

😅 All of them have happy endings. It's so hard to pick one but if I had to the epilogue of Deliverance would be my happiest because I put Kara and Lena through a lot!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yup. Some people don't know how to close a tab. 🤷🏻‍♀️

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yep. I think there are others who have done it much better but I sometimes like to have a big payoff after all the pining. So I guess porn with plot?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope. I like to stay in the Arrowverse and stick primarily to the Supergirl characters and setting.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not yet, but hopefully soon.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Nothing has ever seized my mind and my heart like Supercorp. Usually I have an idea or two for a fanfic but it doesn't see the light of day, or I write until I've said what I needed to with that ship. Supercorp has been different.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I tried to do a PWP smut fic as a challenge but I think it's absolutely terrible. I don't know if I'll ever go back to it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh. That's an awkward question. 🤔

I've been told I'm good with metaphors and a few people have said they felt my characterization was natural.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

How much time do you have? 🤣🤣🤣

I struggle to keep my writing tight, which is why my stuff is generally longer than I thought it would be. I don't feel that I do comedy well. I am iffy about the smut.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Primarily this means Kryptonian / Kryptonese for Kara. I think it's great and it's a matter of when and how you use it. I do try not to overuse different languages too much for fear that it would break the flow of the reader.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek TNG (before the internet)

The X-Files (after the internet)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I would have to say "What If" (coincidentally also my shortest and least read) because of the economy of language. There are days I can't believe I wrote it.

Tagging but no pressure:

@mycatismyeditor @sssammich @rustingcat @chaotic-super

#fanfic #20 questions #writing

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captn-trex · 25 days ago

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these are my re-scored Revenge of the Sith clips!

the quality of sound is not toooo great just because it is the nasty midi sounds from the notation software i use (sibelius the love of my life and bane of my existence) but you get the picture. listen with headphones to hopefully hear all the little background bits!

I'm gonna do some musical yapping too so strap in (or feel free not to read it lol)

first clip:

youtube

and just the music on its own if you want to hear better...

alright so this one's pretty simple. in it I set up two themes that reappear in the next clip, and a hint at another. I'm gonna name these so I can keep track. the first bit of melody you hear in the horn is hinting at what will later become the 'tragedy' theme, then the harp comes in and the first main melody of this clip is presented - which i'm going to refer to as the 'brotherhood' theme. it's basically just a positive melody that portrays obi-wan's trust in anakin at this point in the film, and anakin's appreciation of obi-wan's teachings. you know, friendship, love, all that good stuff not present in the next clip lmao. also it turns minor when obi-wan mentions the council... I will let you take that how you will. Then as obi-wan is walking away, the strings bring in what i'm calling 'anakin's fall', which is a pretty simple and stagnant theme that's at this point hinting towards his downfall in a more melancholic way than it's presented in the next clip. I guess the journey in this clip is that the 'tragedy' surrounds their 'brotherhood' and the 'brotherhood' becomes twisted by the jedi council, and then that brings about 'anakin's fall'. broadly speaking. that being said...

second clip:

youtube

i hope you can watch this??? pls let me know if you cant !! youtube says it's blocked because of copyright (fuck you disney i'm just tryna have fun) but it looks like maybe that just means I can't make money on it? which i didn't want to anyway, it's literally unlisted ffs. if not, here's a link to the dropbox file:

and just the music...

I'm really gonna try and keep this short but... there is a lot to say.

right, so it starts with this kinda building tension bit, but it's not really a theme so I'm not gonna call it that. it goes between major and minor, good and bad, obi-wan and anakin, you get it. first bit of what i'm calling the 'conflict' theme (the main melody of this clip probably) is when we see padme on the ground. it then turns into a repeating figuration that's the background for the 'anakin's fall' theme (kinda in a duel of the fates way if you see the vision). then for a while it's a lot of building tension, pushing forwards, action-ish fighting music with interjections of the 'conflict' theme, and 'anakin's fall' is played when he strangles obi-wan, and then there's a more obvious, full orchestra version of the conflict theme, followed by an altered version of the tension building stuff from the beginning. then it's a more subtle section, slipping in and out of different versions of the 'conflict' theme in the brass and then moving into 'anakin's fall' in the strings, which then (omg i'm sorry if this is hard to read i'm so bad at explaining) goes into the big 'tragedy' theme as they come together with all the lava and whatnot. basically it's just supposed to present how sad it actually is, and that while it is a fight scene, that's not really what it's about, it's about the tragedy of anakin taking this path and the breakdown of their brotherhood. anyway after that it kinda repeats some stuff, does some altered versions of other stuff, instrumentation changes of already presented themes, blah blah blah... and thennnn when it cuts to anakin we get the 'tragedy' theme again. I think the music fits really nicely around the dialogue here tbh. some instrumentation changes of previous themes again blah blah, then a simplified chordal version of 'anakin's fall' for 'i have the high ground' because the dialogue is *chef's kiss*, and then it's just high strings when he's chopped his legs off, which I think gives it that tragic feeling, being played against his screaming in pain. speaking of tragedy... the 'tragedy' theme comes back!!! lol, this time it's solo cello backed up by close harmony french horns and interjections from the harp, and this is absolutely my favourite bit. cello reigns supreme. anyway then right at the end it descends to a really low note in the double basses and the 'brotherhood' theme from the first one finally returns! (as he's saying 'you were my brother anakin') though it's minor and twisted and played between piccolo and solo violin. you know, the tragic instruments (bc I say so), I really just wanted it to sound lonely basically.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

anyway, I don't think it's perfect, I don't think it's genius, but I'm really proud of the work I did here. I had a lot of fun making these, and might do more star wars re-scoring in the future :)

#music #film music #star wars #revenge of the sith #star wars rots #sw rots #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #original music

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spagyricqueen · 2 months ago

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✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨

Thanks to @kalmiaphlox for the tag! (I'm sorry I've been so quiet lately. Best excuse I've got is 'life happened'... heh)

When did you start writing?

I started my writing journey way back in 1994. I was 12 years old. There was no Fanfiction.net, and certainly no AO3 or Wattpad. We had the good ol' "world wide web" and discussion boards, where there were FTP databases with root and sub folders, and all the fics were in .txt files. Read stories written by fans of my favorite TV show at the time, and thought I'd give it a shot. It was all downhill from there.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I honestly can't say that there are. I write what I like to read.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't think I've actively been compared to any one writer, nor do I necessarily write like any particular author. I read fantasy novels, for the most part, and if I were to try to emulate anyone (lately, anyway) it's Elaine Cunningham and her work for Forgotten Realms.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

My computer is my space for everything, and I share a desk with my partner. We're both gamers with dual monitors. Occasionally, I'll sequester away in the bedroom with my laptop.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Daydreaming scenarios and writing back-and-forth dialogue for situations (that may or may not end up getting used at all). But that seems to get the flow going most of the time.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Recurring themes? Hmm. Well, I suppose I've written a lot about disability and how it affects the characters, in their lives and interactions with others. Not every story I've written has this theme, but it certainly counts as 'recurring' for many of my works. I can't say it surprises me at all, as I've had great interest in disabilities (respectfully) since I was very young. Not exclusively for the sake of writing angst, though there is some of that too. But mostly for exploring how people can adapt and grow in the most astounding ways, despite what society at large deems a "disadvantage".

What is your reason for writing?

To put it succinctly, I enjoy it. I like having the ability to paint worlds with words, to evoke emotions in written form, and describe action, excitement, and romance. I have stories in my head, and I want to share them. Writing them down is the most accessable way of doing this.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I adore any comments on my stories. The fact that someone takes the time to say even one word to me about my work is monumental. But of course, if I were being honest, the ones that really inspire me is when they engage with what I've written. When questions are asked, details pointed out, or even theories floated about what could possibly happen next... I live for those. They not only make me happy, but they make me want to deliver the goods, you know?

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I'm not sure I want to be dictating or hoping for anything in particular here. People will think what they will. I should hope that, if anything, anyone reading my work would appreciate my effort. I guess I just want to be thought of as a good writer, an entertaining writer. A nice person? A thoughtful person?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I had the benefit of starting very early in learning how to write, and I am by no means perfect at it. I'm always learning new skills, tricks and methods on how to present the story I want to tell. I have consumed a lot of media over my decades, particularly cinema. I think one of my strengths would be visualizing scenes of my story like a movie, with having a good balance of action, introspection, and dialogue. I had a mentor during my early years who was an English teacher, and learned the ins and outs of traditional creative writing.

How do you feel about your own writing?

My writing style has evolved over the years. My early attempts were, naturally, very juvenile, though I tackled themes that I was told were beyond my years. Writing adult male friendships, learning about the psychological impact of diability and how it affects those friendships and the character's personal life... these were not common themes for a thirteen year old to write about. But again, they were attempts.

These days, I have read many books and experienced enough life to be able to convey deeper, more nuanced interactions and situations. Gathering information, learning about fantasy settings, and having a better understanding of emotions have all helped me to get better. I like what I write, and I write what I like. I know I've improved a lot since thirty years ago, and I'm always looking to get better.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's only recently that I've catered a bit more to my audience in my work, though the idea starts with something purely for my own enjoyment and interest. That's how it begins. I have an idea for a story I think is interesting, write it, post it, and hope others like it too. For the most part, I try to keep the story as I envisioned it, but having the benefit of live interactions with readers has inspired me to insert little tidbits here and there that I felt would be enjoyed---as a nod to the reader, and because I found it fun to make it work within the context of the narrative. :)

And that's all she wrote! Maybe I have a couple friends who might be interested in joining in. @cassieuncaged @busy-baker @davenswitcher

#writing #fanfiction #writers tag game

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vyxated · 3 months ago

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Hello! I’m a big fan of your Chalk’d UI and I’ve been using it since the first release it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a dark mode ui 🫶

I have a little question though, in your how to install post you explain that to avoid blue text Chalk’d must load before UI Cheats Extension, can you clarify this please? I googled it and I found that it just means that the mod that loads first simply should be top of the list, like in my case both your UI and UI Cheats are in the Mods root folder and your UI folder is at the very top (because of the - in the name) and UI cheats is at the bottom near TOOL and BBB. I’m asking because I’m getting blue text in a couple of instances, the dialogue interface when a sim calls and you have to pick an option, the school “chance cards” for children + the parenthood advice thingy, and the “exit game” window when the game asks you if you want to exit, or save and exit, or cancel. I think these are the only cases I’ve noticed. The only big mod conflict I have is TOOL but I kept the compatible file and that is meant to have blue text, so nothing wrong there. Is it normal or am I doing something wrong? I don’t really mind, I just have to squint a little when reading the dialogues but it’s fine lol. I hope I was clear in my explanation, if you have any input I’m all ears, otherwise thank you anyway no biggie 💖

heyy anon! tysm for using it since the start! 🤗🤗

If you don't see any blue text or anything out of the ordinary in any of the live mode panels (simology, phone ui, skills, needs, etc.) then you have UI cheats and my mod installed correctly :]

for the ones you mentioned, those are called the dialog menus, and is caused by the file conflicting with TOOL. Since you did delete the standalone text file to make both mods compatible, that is how it's supposed to look, yeah.

for the next update, I'll likely edit the dialog related files to also have an option to have the original UI on selected buttons/areas (similar to what I did for GUI/more trait in cas file), remove the dark mode on some of the chance cards since those aren't as blinding as the white (only for the compatible file), and also simplify the file structure of the conflicting files so that it'll be easier for you all to manage in the future😁 I've already done it for the sims 2 UI, quite like it, and will apply that to the chalk'd ui as well.

#ask

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atths--twice · 1 year ago

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20 Fanfic Questions

I was tagged by @baronessblixen during the craziness of Fictober and I didn't get a chance to read her responses to her own questions until today. I also had the time to answer my own 20 questions. 😊

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

283

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

1,638,714. And the vast majority of those words have been written on my phone. I would say… about 95% of them. (Please imagine a blinking eye gif here, because whaaaaaat…😳)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly The X-Files, but I have written one for Sex Education and also a Mary Poppins story. (Bert and Mary were my first ship. I saw it in the movie theater in 1980 when I was five years old. Even that young, I had a little shipper heart because I wanted them to be together so badly.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Per Cor Meum

Soulmates

Shared Kisses

Green Is Not Your Color

After the Credits

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes and no. I used to be much better about it, but I so often don’t respond on ao3, but I do on social media outlets. I think it’s more the ease of it and the accessibility of a social media site. But I absolutely love and appreciate every single comment. I cry or laugh over them and always share them with my bestie. They make me incredibly happy. ❤️

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think I have any. I try to leave the story with a somewhat happy ending, or at least a hopeful one. That’s always my goal because… maybe there’s hope.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm… most of them. Like I said, I try to leave them hopeful and at least attempt happiness where it may not have been previously.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have before, but only a couple. The one that sticks with me the most though was from an anonymous person who left a comment that said when an idea is discussed on social media and a story is suggested to be written about said discussion, I’m always quick to get a story out, before giving others a chance to do the same. So as a result, I’m a horrible person who writes “insipid” stories just to say I did it first and “you just… you SUCK at it.”

When I first read that, it hurt for sure, because it made the time I spent writing a story that immediately popped into my head and would not stop begging for my attention, seem trivial and small. It made me feel as though my writing was inconsequential and I should stop wasting my time doing it. It put a dark cloud over me for a wee bit, but then I got past it, though it still sticks in the back of my head there and I think about it from time to time. But I’m still here and still writing stories, almost at 300 now, so whoever wrote that can go ahead and get fucked. ✌

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes I do, but not always. And I suppose by kind, it means mild or hardcore, so I would say somewhere in between. 😂

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No. I’ve not done that as of yet.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Stolen, no. But I was approached by someone about the dialogue that I used in a story being similar to what they had written in their own story. But as I pointed out to them, it was the dialogue from the show itself, so…

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have a few times! It’s fun and I enjoyed working with all the writers.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Mulder and Scully for sure. I adore them so much.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a couple that I do want to finish so badly, I just need to do it. So, I’m going to choose to say, please continue being patient with me. 😊

16. What are your writing strengths?

Humor, I think. And banter. I love writing fun dialogue and imagining the way it would be said for real.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think, without sounding like I’m being pompous, and also because I've been told by a few people, I’m pretty good at creating a story a person can fall into, imagine and enjoy. So, I think my personal weakness is sticking to one story until it’s done, although I’m better about it now than I was in the past. At least I think so. 😊

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I would be nervous to do it, wanting it to be perfect. If I did, I would seek out help from a native speaker so I would then get it right and not just rely on the translation feature.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Soulmates ❤️ I spent over a year on that story, off and on, and then six months of writing it every day, with other stories created in between. It’s the one I’m most proud of and the longest one I’ve ever written.

I'm tagging @tofuttim @agent-troi and anyone else who feels like playing.

#getting personal #hi there #20 questions #hope you enjoy getting to know me better

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pretentiousactress · 6 months ago

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fallout 1 rant

god i hate trying to find content of other people also struggling with fallout 1 but all you can see in comments is just people shitting on the person struggling bc "lol skill issue you're supposed to find this thing in x y and z how do you not know" when A-there is a ONE HUNDRED PAGE MANUAL to the game that's just... a literal walkthrough in place of a proper in game tutorial. but this manual is stylized in it's writing, is a pain to realize exists (i only discovered it on accident bc i was in the game files trying to fix a bug), isn't scanned properly (several pages are the wrong orientation or just off), and long as hell. If you had the physical copy back in the day, it made sense, it was something to read and skim while on the ride home from the store and the game downloaded. B-the game is buggy as hell. Some quests or obvious dialogue are broken bc of bugs C-piss poor in-game direction for the player. you NEED to have read the manual to get the most out of the game, or even play. i feel like the game relies on that so much to do it's heavy lifting the game itself suffers for it, in a way.

I'm really struggling with quests bc the quest tracker is shit. Local area maps gives you no info other than like.... a vague floor plan. The game wants you to barter with some random NPCs that aren't merchants at times just bc they want you to encounter the function.... but barter is slapped onto everyone, even when they have nothing. Choose the wrong stats or anything in the beginning? you're shit out of luck make someone new. Exploring a dungeon is exhausting bc lootable objects blend into the background.

Some stuff i've only discovered by chance, either in game or someone mentioning it in passing, or watching a streamer play the game and see him interact with stuff. You literally cannot play this game without some sort of outside help LMAO. if you could, congrats!

i've finally found a proper walkthrough i think that will finally help me. It tells info straight forward. My first time playing i couldn't even leave the vault without dying bc of bad resources bc of my bad build. I personally HATE builds and crafting one, so since then i've just tried only following examples. I think i eventually got out before but then I also couldn't figure out how to enter a location bc NOTHING WOULD SAY just click the lil green triangle in the game when you enter the green bubble (and even later when i tried looking up help). I've gotten the farthest i've ever gotten recently, after finally figuring out how to enter locations but god my own brain suffers from its own pitfalls. Took me forever to figure out how to even enter vault 15. reading dialogue HURTS bc my eyes strain against the saturated green text on dark green for so long. thats not just a this game issue tho it's also a problem for me in modern fallout games if the text is too saturated i will not read terminals and i try to spend the least amount seeing it. Also not a fan of the fat jokes against one npc but it's a product of its time and just another me problem.

sucks hard bc i really want to like the game but with everything compounded makes it such a boring slog other than like... the few easter eggs and fun encounters i came across traveling between towns. I'll probably end up relying on watching Jabo's playthrough of it but im gonna give it one last go. properly adjusted setting from the start and properly following a walkthrough. not gonna patch the game with a fan patch just bc i dont care about it enough to put in the effort LMAO

hopefully i can eventually enjoy the game properly myself this way on my final attempt. I wanna like the game and have fun so bad but i might just have to accept it's not for me.

jesus im glad i never actually streamed playing this game bc i would have just felt so insecure with all my struggling and it doesn't help just how *mean* fans of old fallout are. Not all of them, but it's sad how it seems like the nice ones are the minority.

i just hate struggling in games if i'm the only one playing. I'm happy to struggle with others in a multiplayer. struggling on my own is what i already do irl im not dealing with that shit in a game that's helping me escape lmao

as shitty as bethesda games can be, they worked several miracles getting fallout into a format that's just far more accessible, easier to get started and understand, and still make sense. Bethesda know best how to make a genre of a game just... more casual and easier to digest. Not everyone's cup of tea, sure, esp depending on the genre (not a lot of people like starfield but i love it. a lot of people love most space games and i hate them LMAO). New Vegas, everyone's beloved, i don't think would have been loved by so many if it wasn't bethesda general easy to consume format with og fallout creators (tho maybe just fallout 2). best of both worlds.

if bethesda didn't snatch up the IP, fallout would have died in the 90s LMAO. but sadly, i just think a lot of people would have preferred that. it is what it is. people be wildin.

#rant #vent #don't mind me just ranting

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mcflymemes · 2 years ago

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PROMPTS FROM THE BOURNE TRILOGY * assorted dialogue from identity, supremacy, and ultimatum

who has a safety deposit box full of money and six passports and a gun?

nobody does the right thing.

you haven't slept for a long time.

why don't you sit down.

perhaps we can arrange a meet.

we've been through this.

you really don't remember, do you?

that sounds ominous. let me check my schedule.

what were my words? what did i say?

you move, you die.

thanks for the ride.

welcome to the program.

nothing in those files makes their sacrifice worthwhile.

i don't want to do this anymore.

they found a body.

i'm sitting in my office.

my argument is not with you.

we got a bump coming up.

what happened?

look, what's going on? why are these people after me?

i hear you're still looking for me.

everything i found out, i wanna forget.

i told you to come alone.

someone started all this, and i'm going to find them.

why would you doubt that?

who's your source?

tell me who i am.

i want to know what's going on.

i was hoping you had some time for me.

if there's something you're not telling me, i want it now.

i don't think that's a decision you can make.

you're u.s. government property.

i said leave me alone.

do you have any idea who you're dealing with?

what basis are you continuing this operation on?

i told them i believed you.

why are you helping me?

have you locked down the area?

you don't know the circumstances.

i wanted to thank you.

we got what we needed.

please don't hurt me.

we clear on that?

you start down this path, where does it end?

i can run flat out for a half mile before my hands start shaking.

i see the exit sign, too.

i remember. i remember everything.

backup will be arriving in approximately one hour.

did something go wrong?

what is this, a joke? some kind of scam?

you're the only person i know.

do you have ID?

if we stay here, we die.

i know how you're feeling.

off the record. you know how it is.

no more red tape.

i don't suppose it would do me much good to cry for help?

i send you because you don't exist.

you know i can't tell you that.

we're professionals. when an operation goes bad, we tie it off.

where are you gonna go?

you just asked for it?

this is where it started for me. this is where it ends.

everything you need is in there.

actually, i don't think they give a shit.

get some rest. you look tired.

these people will kill you if they have to.

good thinking.

so now you're going to kill me?

do you copy?

all right, we have to move.

you would probably just forget about me if i stayed here.

you can come up.

why don't you come in with me?

do you even know why you're supposed to kill me?

now why would i know that?

i'm sorry to hear that.

why didn't you take the shot?

it was a kill squad.

you know how real the danger is.

we can do that any time we want.

i come in here, and the first thing i'm doing is i'm catching the sightlines and looking for an exit.

how did that happen?

do something about it.

i send you to be invisible.

you're in a big puddle of shit, and you don't have the shoes for it.

i'm not worried.

who am i?

you couldn't make this stuff up.

you're a total goddamned catastrophe.

i can go check it out.

i'm not sorry.

i mean, you were shot.

i don't send you to kill.

how could i forget about you?

this isn't what i signed up for.

you talk about this stuff like you read it in a book.

i'm on my own side now.

i have the files.

it's not a mistake.

i'm just trying to do the right thing.

what are you after?

why did you pick me?

they knew you were there.

what the hell are you talking about?

we don't have a choice.

it gets easier.

it'll be better if we do this together.

they'll kill you for giving me this.

by god, if it kills me, you're going to tell me how this happened.

look at this. look at what they make you give.

people do all kinds of weird and amazing stuff when they're scared.

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mumms-the-word · 7 months ago

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THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

I can’t remember who tagged me with this or if I stole it 😭

Tagging: @elspethdekarios @sorceresssundries @fantasyfictionfables @lewdisescariot and anyone else??

No pressure friends as always and sorry for double tagging, this has sat in drafts for like days

Last book I read: For fun? I honestly can't remember. For my dissertation, Phantasmion by Sara Coleridge (and I haven't recovered, it was an acid trip of a fantasy novel)

Greatest literary inspirations: Bram Stoker (fave classic writer), Marissa Meyer (influenced my love of YA fairy tales), Ursula K. Le Guin (her style is SO GOOD)

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: I skim/read a lot of smut for someone who will never write it. I don't even read it that much, but occasionally something catches my eye (I appreciate you smutty, smutty people). What I'd want to read but not write is slice-of-life style shenanigans between characters, the kind that comic artists like @a2zillustration do really well. Send me recs if you know other BG3 comic artists!

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: my current masquerade fic I love writing stuff that is incredibly specific to my Tavs because I find it fascinating to explore different character perspectives and voices? But I know the fandom tends to enjoy generalized Tavs or "you" POVs more than specific OC characters, which is fair given the nature of the game, so I don't share as much of my Tav-specific stuff these days

You can recognise my writing by: the lack of smut...and probably an overuse of adverbs. and the fact that every chapter/oneshot is ridiculously long. I'm new to fanfic, okay, I wrote full books as a hobby before this lol

My most controversial take (current fandom): oh boy I have...many, probably...I've already gotten blocked for one hot take (I think it was a misunderstanding??) but it wasn't even my most controversial take. I think my most controversial take is that there is no One Correct Way to interpret a character, and anyone who tells you that "you're reading the game files wrong" or "that isn't what is canon" is ignoring the fact that a) that's not how interpretation works, and b) the branching nature of the game is going to necessarily mean that different people encounter different things in different orders and may not even get the dialogue that you hold so dear to your interpretation of the character, and that is okay. We shouldn't ask everyone to become an expert in every facet of their favorite character's identity because not everybody has the time or energy for that. We should just hope that people are having fun. Like I know this is a complex topic and I don't want to ramble about it here lol but that's the gist

Top three favourite tropes: in no particular order, 1) arranged/convenient marriage that leads to genuine love between characters, 2) super big tall buff scary guy (tortured past optional) is actually a total sweetheart who is a little afraid of his own strength (bonus points if he falls in love with a smol person he must protect and feels slightly unworthy of), and 3) FOUND FAMILY I love it every time

What’s your current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): fic writing I'm like....idk a 6? dissertation writing, which I am actually supposed to be writing, is a solid 1.

Share a random frustration: my students keep insisting on using AI to write their assignments and it is BEYOND frustrating how much time it takes up for me to read their assignment, mark where they've used AI, and then forward it to the next tier in our "Guess what you done fucked up" system for this class

#tag game #bg3

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daekie · 1 year ago

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so...... ⚾ Blaseball, huh?

see the thing with putting all my work in a one-last-hurrah message in the fanwork channel is that i don't have enough characters left to talk about almost anything else. so INSTEAD here's a masterpost of my work i guess!

and it's all of the eyes on the way it's going

There was something... there was something they were supposed to say. Something they were meant to carry through the rift. Some information Wyatt Mason wanted to hold close to their chest, because it could change everything, if they just - but there’s nothing there except the same crackling static that would make them jump, if they felt alive enough for that. Wyatt Mason III was pulled through the Rift. Wyatt Mason III Localized into the Georgias' lineup.

2938 words, 1 chapter. Written before I actually had any real feelings or opinions on that wet little guy (said with immense fondness) & the first real piece of writing I did for Blaseball. I think I've gotten a lot better since this, but it's not bad, and I'm still pretty proud of the workskin I made for it.

for you, home is a cemetery

The light shining overhead casts everything in dangerous gold, and the players standing in perfect rank and file are no better and no safer: the Aequitas Representatives, here to take the challenge proposed by the Seattle Garages, here to remind a pesky little team what their place is and how foolish it is to fight a god. 6x200 snapshots of those terrible, brittle years, smothered and kept and preserved under a god's thumb for her purposes and her purposes alone.

1200 words (6x200), 1 chapter. AO3 says it's 1201 but it's lying I think. The Wyatts Mason, in a world where the Coin arranged their Localization and corporate drone teenagers scare the living shit out of me; inspired by @zayphora's original Aequitas AU.

you'll lead all your friends like lemmings to a slaughter

Season 14, Day 86. Wy█tt M██on III Ech█ed █yatt Mas██ ███ — ECHO Wyatt Mason III STATIC ECHO Wyatt Mason VIII STATIC

3387 words, 1 chapter. The aftermath of and it's all of the eyes on the way it's going. Wyatt Mason III Three hasn't even picked an actual name yet besides 'not Wyatt', and they've only been alive for fourteen days, but they know they're not walking off that field at the end of this game. Written after I'd been playing them on Twitter for some time, so it's a lot more consistent with a lot of things!

i'm no ghost, no fool

The first thing David Gray needs you to know is that their name is not David Gray. (is this worth crying for? is stepping up to bat worth dying for?)

2852 words, 1 chapter. Dialogue-only. In a Short Circuits world, Atlantis Georgias shadows player David Gray has some things they need to get off their chest, and a Fan's the only person who can hear them say it (literally). Good thing they can spot a Fan at a hundred paces.

a short list of stars that died this year (or: i’m screaming every requiem i know at the suns)

i’m screaming every requiem i know at the suns & someone is singing a mourning song. Nagomi Nava reflects, after the end of the world.

6967 words, 2 chapters. Written as part of the Sunbeams' 2022 Solstice exchange for orionexperiment#0951. Nagomi Nava experiences the Semi-Centennial, makes an odd friend in Tillman Henderson while she's at it, and makes her way through Season 24 and the end of the universe. This thing fucking rocks honestly, I don't even think it reads too well but I'm incredibly proud of it still.

radio station 19.14

11666 words spread across two fics. Written for the Tokyo Lift Fic Exchange. Jessica Telephone Voicemail and Wyatt Mason (Season 14 birth) Jasmine Mason have a midnight talk about not being that person you took your name and face from, and what it means to be you, and the team that loved a girl they barely even got to know. Fics can be read in any order. Includes:

the only way i know how to say sorry is "better luck next time"

One day, in the static she hears every time she picks up a phone, she hears a voice. The voice doesn’t sound like Jessica Telephone. If it did, she’d put the phone down immediately; deals like the kind Jessica made can’t really be taken back, but that was a determined girl, and she’d make a determined haunt, too. But it doesn’t sound like her voice, or her own, or otherwise. It sounds like a teenage girl. Jessica Telephone isn’t the only girl here who might as well be someone else's ghost.

5533 words, 1 chapter. I tagged this with Minor Parasocial Relationships / alt jess is weird about jessica. its parasocial its antagonistic its envious its Really Something / JESSICA ISNT EVEN HERE GIRL. WHAT ARE YOU HUNG UP ON and I stand by that. This is Jessica Voicemail's side of the conversation!

my theologies strewn out in the dark

At least she herself was able to say that’s not me, that’s my name, that’s not me, I want to be something else. She doesn’t think Jessica has said that, or maybe even thought it to herself; who wouldn’t want to be Jessica Telephone? From the outside, wouldn’t it be a gift, to live a life so rich? (Wouldn’t it be a gift, to be a splinter of a god who saw everything but never saw it coming? It always looks better from the outside.) Jessica Telephone isn’t the only girl here who might as well be someone else’s ghost: or, what that looks like from another camera angle: or, hey, who decides what the real Ship of Theseus is, anyway?

6133 words, 1 chapter. Jasmine's side of the conversation. Eldest daughter syndrome applies even if you're a weird sound ghost and Jas has got it bad. When she can't do anything, why would she ever let herself do anything less than as much as possible?

spinning on this infinite road

a collection of fics written for the game band's blasetober 2022 prompts, all written as 12x100s.

8675ish words, 6 chapters. Covers prompts THE BOOK, CERTIFIED BLASEBALL MOMENT, BIRDS, PEANUTS, A BLESSING, A CURSE, and PARKER.

oh, it's time for another vendetta

This is a body he hasn’t known since before the PODS. This is a body he had no say in leaving behind. This is a body that is his and is not his. York doesn’t know he’s crying until he feels the heat on his face. or: york silk backslides on his mental health recovery, because who ever put 'being eight years old again' in their twelve-step plan?

1628 words, 1 chapter. Set in Sonder's Salmon & Snake AU, where post-S24 the League resets back to S1 but with randomized rosters, and the only players who remember the original timeline are Hall Stars and Legends.

I've also done some ficlets from ask memes -- York Silk's protagonist halo & the vault's heel population, and Trip Mason & Jaybot and accepting the fact things won't get better. And I roleplay(ed) Wyatt Mason III & Siobhan Chark on Twitter!

Non-fanfic stuff I've made includes the following (it's 99% community-billboard stuff):

Everything on this I can back up except putting the Wyatts and Wyatt Prime on separate levels.

(at some point i WILL make a final version of this; this one doesn't include s24 + short circuits i think. but. yknow. it is what it is.)

mock takeovers for fan-entities the Archivist (the first two) & the Catalyst (the third one)

propaganda for early expansion era -- i think this is s13-s14?

late expansion era propaganda. the second one isn't even a good edit but i still think it's funny.

propaganda for short circuits. we could've been the atlantis peanuts.... i wanted it so bad

& some coronation era propaganda. very happy with that first knight ump one.

...and then i also did some playlists (raw meat, static echo)...

and during coronation, i drew my design for mckinney vaughan...

...and i did a moodboard for MaX (Wyatt Mason X)...

oh yeah and I also did text post memes. first set, second set, third set, georgias set.

it's been a good run, yall! onwards to whatever comes next. (& ofc i'll still be blaseballing -- i'll probably be playing around in this setting forever and ever.)

#blaseball #daestuff

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revenant-ao3 · 5 months ago

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The Hounds of Fate - Ch 7

Read on Ao3: here

Shoto sits in that empty room with only the soft buzz of the overhead light to occupy him. Time slips by, syrup-thick, and it’s always there; a faint hum that fills the void with white noise.

The light never goes out.

One hour or ten, it doesn’t matter. His captor sees fit to leave him drowning in fluorescents. It makes estimating how long he’s been here especially difficult. His circadian rhythm is going to be irreparably fucked after this, he just knows it. (Not that he had much of one to begin with. Thank you, undiagnosed trauma response.)

He wonders if it’s supposed to be a subtle form of psychological torture. Drive away his sense of time and ease of sleep, make him pliable in his captivity. Ridiculous and a waste of electricity – not that he’s particularly inclined to care about their expenditures. If they want to rack up an even higher bill on something ineffective, all the better. He hopes they look at the bill and weep.

Isolation is nothing new to him. Growing up, it had been a regular state of affairs, hardly a punishment. On top of that, he’s grown accustomed to finding sleep in the most unlikely of places at the drop of a hat. They’ll be quite disappointed, he thinks, to find these methods ineffective against him. He can almost certainly handle being alone here longer than Murmur can handle leaving him be. That man is far too chatty and interested in him to stay away. Unfortunately.

Though, he muses darkly, that also means Murmur won’t be tormenting anyone else.

Better him than one of the other captives here. He can handle that bastard, loathe as he is to take that burden. That doesn’t mean he has to be pleased, however. And he’ll be sure to let his opinion be known. He’ll just have to keep his temper in check, that’s all. A tall order he’s going to pretend is just as simple as coping with solitary confinement.

Wouldn’t want to get too violent, now would we?

He frowns at the waspish voice, a little too rough in tone to be his usual inner dialogue.

I’m not that violent, he reassures himself.

That reassurance feels fake, consolatory. He thinks of the wide eyes of Laelaps and that woman staring at him in dismay. Fear. A fear so genuine it begs for mercy, a plea for their lives. Of flesh rent from a body and a piercing scream. Shoto feels no rush of power from their submission, no joy or pleasure from inciting terror. That has to count for something, right? He doesn’t harm them because he wants to or because it tickles some perverse part of him. It was a necessity; always a necessity. The ends justified the means, at least he thinks so.

Isn’t that what they all say?

He’s only slightly familiar with the paperwork a hero has to fill out after an arrest that requires any measure of excessive force. His father has bitched one too many times about filing another misconduct report for Shoto to ignore them all. They’ve always found it in Endeavor’s favor – in every pro’s favor because a pro’s word is writ. It was necessary. For the greater good. I regret having to use such measures, but—

He’s heard it all before, from Endeavor and other pros alike.

I’m no better than they are.

It’s a sickening, gut-churning thought. He’s run and run so fucking far, trying to escape the snares and snakes waiting for him, only to find himself back at the start. Shoto stares at his right hand, expression vacant and chest aching. He’s poisoning his mother’s quirk, using it in the exact same unapologetically violent way Endeavor uses his.

Damn it. Damn it.

His thumb aches all over again as he clenches his fist in frustration. He wanted to do better, be better. Wanted to become someone his mother wouldn’t hate or see as a monster, but here he is, playing the part of the beast in her shadow all too well. At least she can’t see me now. She’d hate me even more.

He huffs at the thought.

Small fortunes, and all that, he supposes.

(Regret is a slow and bitter poison, he learns.)

---

Time passes funny when there’s no way to track it.

It’s been long enough that the pulse in his hand has dulled to barely noticeable and he's counted the speckles in the ceiling tiles twice over, give or take some miscounts.

He thumps his head against the wall and stares at the door. It seems to taunt him. He knows he can’t sit and bemoan his rancid nature or wonder about Dabi’s unnerving stare. Oh, certainly cannot twiddle his thumbs, counting the seconds until some pro comes to his aid. If they haven’t found this operation already, they likely won’t now. It’s too well-rooted to be new.

But Eraserhead, a voice pipes up in the back of his mind, Eraserhead must be looking. I know he’s looking. He wouldn’t let this go.

Shoto grimaces, trying desperately to muzzle that little voice. Hope, above drugs and hostages and manipulation quirks, is his most dangerous enemy. Because if he lets himself hope, lets himself fall into the role of a child waiting for a hero again only to be let down, he doesn’t know if his spirit will recover. It's hard to dim that spark and ignore his gut that wants to point out and scream, Eraserhead is different. He cares. He's good. Every interaction he's had with the hero so far only highlights that point but Shoto wants desperately to wash it away. Like a dog hit one too many times, he's grown wary of authority figures and hands extended like they want to help. They never do. They never do.

I need to focus. These people need me. Ignore everything else.

That, at least, is a decent motivator. Thinking of that dead-eyed woman and the unknown amount just like her being kept like animals in these halls ignites a spark in his hollow chest. He can do this. If he’s a monster – and he’s unfortunately certain he is – then he can turn his monstrous gaze on those responsible. Let him capitalize on his rage and power to save these people.

And that brings up a curiosity.

They didn’t bother to cuff him again. In all the time that’s since passed, no one has come to restrain him. Perhaps they realized it’s useless to try. It makes him wonder just how many cuffs he managed to break while being transported because he’s almost certain that there was at least one. Four sets of stun cuffs at the minimum can’t be cheap to replace. It also must be pretty embarrassing to have a teenager fresh out of their pre-teens breaking out of your shackles and prison so easily. Best not give another chance to be shamed, he supposes.

Or, maybe Murmur is just being obnoxiously smug, waving freedom in his face while knowing Shoto has his hands metaphorically tied.

His brows slant as he glares at the door.

Asshole.

Like he's executing the world's worst party trick, the door swings open just as that thought crosses his mind and reveals Murmur. Per usual, the man is smiling all tranquil and friendly; a true poster child of Boy Scout benevolence. It wouldn’t shock Shoto if being called an ‘asshole’ actually summoned the man like he's some sort of shitty demon. It feels fitting for this wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The teen quickly stands and shifts into a defensive stance. There’s no weapon visible on Murmur and no aggression in the way he moves as he steps into the room, but that doesn’t relax Shoto’s tense posture. Nothing good can come from his presence.

He’s caught between the desire to glare a hole through the man (not yet successful, but further attempts may prove fruitful), or staring at the wall behind him like he doesn’t exist to irritate Murmur in a mild, non-inconvenient way. That’s when he notices two figures hovering just behind his captor. They frame the doorway, nearly out of sight but still visible enough to stare at Shoto. Clearly security of some form. And creepy security at that.

The quiet duo wears matching masks, one black and the other white, finely decorated and shaped to resemble kitsune. Now, Shoto isn’t exactly the religious sort, far from it, in fact. Even still, he’s well-read enough to recognize homages to Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi. If those kami exist, he sincerely doubts they’d be pleased two thugs are dishonoring their images. And what kitschy designs, too.

He doesn’t have time to wonder if their quirks relate to their chosen patrons because Murmur shifts into his direct line of sight. It’s as if the unremarkable nature of the man drives him to seek attention, discontent with being ignored or overlooked, especially by those he seeks out so hungrily.

That warring desire to be petulant rises in him again. To be, or not to be, that is the question. (His old tutor would be irate to learn he’s weaponizing Shakespeare to aggravate his captor.)

It’s only the thought of the other captives that keeps him from exercising the full extent of his bratty nature. No matter how deeply the desire burns in him, he can’t let them get hurt for his own petty whims. I’m not that monstrous.

Not yet, a different voice echoes back, too amused sounding to be anything less than malicious. Shoto makes a mental note to punch Dabi the next time they cross paths, because he's certain they will. The scarred man was pretty clear on that front.

He barely withholds a grimace, eyes narrowing into a glare as he watches Murmur approach. The door clicks shut behind him, separating him from his watchful guardians.

They’re alone now.

The way the man’s smile widens and how he wrings his hands in anticipation sets off Shoto’s nerves. There’s no telling what this bastard’s intentions are, especially with that odd look in his empty eyes. His defensive posture strengthens.

There must be a threat on Shoto’s face or in the sharp angle of his body because Murmur pauses his approach, hands raised placatingly. The pacifying gesture does nothing to soften the malice that radiates from him.

“Before you get any clever ideas, I’d like to warn you that I have someone monitoring us. It’d be unwise to attack,” he says pleasantly.

Shoto’s gaze narrows, honing in on the way the man’s jaw ticks around that smile. Discomfort? Uncertainty? Whatever it is, he’s wary of the danger Shoto poses, even in this position of uneven power.

Good. He should be terrified.

And he can’t attribute that biting comment to that new, venomous voice that’s taken residence in his head. No, that rancor is all his own. This time, he doesn’t mind it.

While there’s nothing more tempting at this moment than to freeze Murmur into a glacier so large, that global temperatures would drop, he knows better. It’s not his life on the line. He can feel frost creep up his fingers as he pushes back the biting, keening urge to attack. If getting out was as simple as taking down this one man, he’d have no hesitation in breaking the bastard into pieces.

Unfortunately, life is never that simple.

There are too many unknowns to account for. Who is monitoring the situation? How quickly would they react? Is another victim being held up as collateral? If Shoto can coax out some of that information, then he can make a more informed decision on what to do next.

That makes it slightly easier to will away the ice from his fingertips.

Murmur notices, grin sharpening as he steps closer. When he reaches into his coat, Shoto tenses all over again. That tension turns into confusion as Murmur pulls out a slender tablet and presents it to Shoto.

“Here you go.”

Shoto stares at the offered item like it might suddenly grow teeth and snap at him. Then, he glances up at the man, brows pinched in confusion.

“What is this?” he asks suspiciously.

Murmur sighs, but he sounds amused by Shoto’s distrust.

“Proof of my word,” he says. Then, he taps the screen to life.

Rather than take the tablet, Shoto tilts his head to get a better look. On it is a crisp live feed of another cell identical to the one Shoto’s in. Sitting on the floor, curled in a ball, is the woman Murmur had been threatening. It’s hard to tell from her position, but she seems no worse than the last time Shoto saw her. At the very least, he can see no wounds or blood on her clothes.

How terrible it is that this meager display of subhuman treatment is nearly enough to make him sigh in relief. The woman is alive, in one piece, and still in this facility.

If this footage is genuine.

He can’t be entirely sure of the validity of what he’s seeing, if it’s pre-recorded or actually live, but even the chance that she’s okay makes him certain he’d done the right thing.

“Perfectly unharmed, just as I said.”

And Murmur breaks his moment of peace by speaking. Naturally.

Shoto stares at the husk of a woman for a few breaths longer before dragging his gaze up to his captor. Murmur is far too pleased with himself for having done the bare minimum required to be only slightly better than actual roadkill.

His captor tucks the tablet away again, eyes only briefly leaving Shoto before darting right back.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks, sickly sweet.

What the hell is with him?

This can’t be normal, all this appeasement and reassurance. It’s doubtful he’s gone to such lengths for his other captives. Just seeing the state of that woman and her apparent disposability is enough to make that obvious. If he really wanted to, he could have drugged Shoto while he was unconscious. That’d solve this entire run-around before it even got to this point. But he didn’t. No, instead he’s trying to build some sort of rapport here, as stupid as that is.

Shoto brushes right past his question with no intent on answering. It’ll be a cold day in hell when he believes or trusts anything this jackass says. Instead, he narrows his eyes and lets his features fall into that stoic mask he’s perfected over the years.

“This is a lot of effort for one person. What do you want with me?” he asks, voice cold and demanding.

Murmur blinks at him, face momentarily blank with surprise. Then, his smile reappears, wider now and verging on manic. It makes Shoto want to step further away from him but he’ll be damned if he lets this guy know he’s unsettled.

When Murmur talks, his voice rings high with amusement. His words come out in a huff, like he can hardly believe he has to say them.

“I’d think it’s obvious. I want everything.”

He waves a hand vaguely in Shoto’s direction, as if that can somehow explain that incredibly vague declaration.

Everything?

A cold stone drops in his gut.

He has to re-evaluate the lengths he’ll go to pacify this bastard and protect these people, he fears. But even edging near that thought sends his heart skyrocketing. Threats of pain and torture are hardly terrifying to Shoto. He’s quite familiar with the many layers of agony, but this...this undefined everything conjures prospects that his young mind hadn’t thought of since being targeted.

Pride be damned, he shifts further away from the man and raises a defensive hand coated in spiking ice.

“What do you mean?”

His voice is far steadier than the rabbiting heart in his chest. He manages an air of disgust and rage when what feels is really fear. For once, he hopes that spark of anger finds him again because he doesn’t like this helpless feeling. He’d rather be consumed by the flames of hate than drown in fear.

Murmur’s face slackens for a moment before something in him cracks and he laughs. He laughs like Shoto said something extraordinarily comedic. His face is buried in his hands before he peeks between his fingers, eyes wide in such a manner that is makes Shoto’s skin crawl. For the first time, he sees a hint of the true madness driving this man.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asks breathlessly from behind his fingers.

When he drops his hands and lifts his head, he is all sorts of ruffled. Shoto gives a sharp shake of his head, having absolutely no clue what tangent this man is on now.

Murmur’s smile is almost hysterical now as he continues, “How wonderfully perfect you are.”

Shoto’s unaffected mask cracks just a bit as he curls his lips in distaste.

“I’m not perfect.”

He spits it out and wishes it could strike the man like a punch.

The masterpiece, the prized one, the favored child, Endeavor’s crowning piece and magnum opus, nonpareil, perfect. He fucking despises those sentiments because it humanizes what it took to make him this way, softens his jagged, broken edges like they’re non-existent. Or, worse, like he is only his surface – his quirk, his strength, his name. He’s not perfect. He’s angry and tired and bitter and so fucking fucked that he can’t tell the difference between pain and safety, comfort and danger.

Murmur waves away his rage like it’s a gnat. Some of that frenzied energy has drained out of his captor and he looks closer to the composed man he likes to portray, but there’s still a malignant gleam in his eyes.

“I’m not speaking of your personality or other such arbitrary things. I mean physically, genetically,” he says as he glances over Shoto once more.

Warning spikes sprout from Shoto’s right side like a porcupine and his left side smokes lightly. That only serves to ramp up that instability fueling Murmur. He sighs, awed and starry-eyed.

“You are a marvel of nature.”

It sounds affectionate and far too kindly coming from this bastard. Yet at the same time, he sounds as if he’s speaking about a thing. There is nothing in his tone or his face that hints at understanding Shoto is a living, breathing person.

And Shoto cannot for the life of him understand what the hell he’s talking about. Sure, his quirk is strong and pretty rare, but to go so far as to call him a marvel of nature? That’s way more than a stretch. There are people out there with quirks that alter their entire body into something almost inhuman. Even the Iida family with their mild heteromorphic traits are more unique than him. For all intents and purposes, he’s a normal human with an abnormally strong quirk.

“Objectively speaking, I’m not that different from other people,” he says, voice pointedly disinterested. He doubts it will convince the man whatever fanatical ideas he has are wrong, but it’s worth a shot.

As he suspected, Murmur just seems to clench his jaw, almost angry that Shoto is denying this.

“Wrong. So, so wrong.”

He steps closer, crowding Shoto back to the wall. The spines of ice are the only thing that keeps the distance between the two. Shoto’s eyes widen and he bares his teeth like it’ll keep the man away. It doesn’t stop Murmur from gripping his chin and tilting his head left and right, inspecting him with fervent eyes.

“Chimerism is already rare among people, yet you have that and quirk chimerism. It presents itself so pleasingly and powerfully, too,” he says softly as he looks over his split features, eyes darting from smoke to ice, blue to gray. “That is a statistical improbability so unlikely, I’d sooner turn dust to diamonds than replicate you.”

That… Shoto didn’t know that. There’s no way that’s true.

And yet, Murmur is staring at him like he’s something divine.

Mollified after his impromptu inspection, Murmur takes a step back and smiles sedately once more, like nothing more innocuous than small talk just occurred. His ability to snap back to this false state of composure is unsettling, like an actor switches masks.

Shoto barely has the presence of mind to subdue the shaking in his hands. Fear coats his tongue. He doesn’t want to look at Murmur, doesn’t want to see the rapacity in his stare or the dehumanizing way he appraises Shoto.

“There are people who’d pay a genuine fortune for you,” Murmur states, voice pleasantly neutral again.

Shoto’s gaze finally flicks over to catch his. He tries to force all his fear down and all his hate up so it can leak out of his glare.

“I’m not for sale,” he says through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.

If he comes at me again…He can’t guarantee he won’t get violent. Shoto hopes and prays that doesn’t happen because he doesn’t want someone else to suffer because of him, but… But he can’t take those greedy hands on him. It disgusts him, makes him angry and rabid, and most of all, it makes him afraid.

He��s no good to these people broken or sold, he reassures himself. He’ll have to defend himself because otherwise no one will be able to help them. It’s logical, rational.

Fuck, he hopes it doesn’t come down to him or them, because he’s scared of what he’ll pick.

Either his blank expression is still holding strong or Murmur is entirely uncaring of his distress – either is viable – because the man just gives him a pleased look.

“Quite right. You’re not.”

And that gives Shoto pause. He isn’t sure if he feels more or less frightened at the assurance. Because isn’t that why he was kidnapped to begin with?

Murmur begins to pace, hands dancing across the air as he speaks.

“I’ve pondered over you in the past days. You’d make me a lot of money. In fact, several interested parties have already placed astonishing offers. But, well, I may be a bit greedy,” he says and pauses his steps to shoot Shoto a wry, hollow grin.

Shoto’s known logically that there are vile people in this world, the kind who buy and sell others like property. There’s unfortunate proof of that in his lineage. And he’s known that the situation he’s in means he’s going to be dealing with said people. Even still, the difference between knowing this academically and having to experience it firsthand, that people are trying to buy him – a teenager – is bone-chilling.

Horror tightens around his throat like an invisible noose and robs him of his voice as he processes it all.

“Seeing the strength you have, and so young too, made me realize what an opportunity I nearly passed over,” Murmur continues with that unnerving vacant smile, “I could loan you out. For an appropriate fee and a signed waiver you’ll return unharmed, of course. With time, I’d make several times the amount I’d get from a sale.”

There are veritable yen signs flashing in Murmur’s eyes as he imagines his future wealth wrought by exploiting Shoto.

And it finally clicks into place.

His cursed fate isn’t to be chased down and forced into heroics. No, that’s the palatable option. His fate, one determined since before conception and written into the tapestry of the universe is that of a tool, an object, a means to an end. To be used to fulfill other’s selfish desires regardless of his wants.

Maybe this is recompense for the hell he caused his mother or the fissure he drove into his family – this mockery of her fate. (Does he deserve this? Like the scar on his face? No, no, he doesn’t believe that. Can’t believe it.)

That realization finally, finally, brings a spark to life in Shoto’s chest. A trickle of righteous indignation bubbles up into a wellspring to flood over his fears and drown them out.

How dare he?

He ran from home to escape the fate of a weapon and he damn well refuses to let this jackass pick up where Endeavor left off.

Shoto slaps away the hand that reaches out for him again like he’s an animal at a petting zoo. The flash in Murmur’s eyes is a warning of impending danger but rage licks at his heart, too hot to care. That small part of him crying out to be rational is drowned out by his rampant emotions. Always the hothead, this mercurial boy. He'd been told quite often that his temper and his mouth would get him into trouble one day. Wouldn't those people love to see him now?

“I won’t—” he starts out, voice biting and frigid, only to get cut off by his visibly irritated captor.

“There is no end to that sentence that matters. What you will and won’t do is not up to you,” Murmur states just as coldly. Whatever delusion he’d been frolicking in has faded away with Shoto’s sharp rebuttal. There is no pretense of pleasantry as he stares at Shoto.

That only fires up Shoto further. He’s prepared to spit out another retort, something no doubt scathing and potentially idiotic – (be calm, be polite, be rational.) – when Murmur barrels on.

“I’m being polite because I’d prefer not to break your mind. It would be an unfortunate waste, but I will if I have to,” he says with a glare, staring down his nose at Shoto like he’s an unruly child on the verge of punishment.

Shoto scoffs, but a thread of unease tangles its way into the blaze of his anger. Breaking his mind sounds especially unpleasant and very real.

What if that woman hadn’t been drugged? What if it was Murmur's doing?

He supposes that can account for Murmur’s desire to play at friends. Shoto would be a lot less useful if he’s borderline catatonic. Though, it certainly sounds like the man would still find uses for him. A shiver races down his spine at the notion.

“It doesn’t matter what you say. I will never be your tool,” he says venomously, nearly on reflex despite the threat lingering between them.

Murmur raises a brow, unimpressed.

“Please, your rebelliousness has its charm but don’t think so highly of yourself,” he says with a huff.

The hand Shoto slapped waves in his direction, almost dismissive. Then, the beginning of an antagonizing smile curls Murmur’s lips. It brings back that well-known desire to punch the man. Just one punch, please. That’s all I’m asking for. (Fortunately, Shoto’s sliver of self-control holds strong and he resists the siren call.)

“All I have to do is put a gun to someone’s head and you’ll be crawling your way back to your kennel like a good boy,” Murmur finishes, smile widened to its fullest extent.

That fragile hold he has on his self-control wavers dangerously.

It incenses Shoto, this smugness, and the utter insult Murmur throws at him, mostly because it’s true. Shoto’s so mad at his captor and this situation, but he’s mostly mad at himself for being so goddamn predictable.

Murmur revels in his unspoken victory over Shoto by deftly slipping back into his sycophantic role. When remorse takes shape on his face, Shoto feels violence in his veins.

“I don’t wish to be mean, but you must understand your place. We can avoid this unpleasantness if you simply accept your role here,” Murmur says softly, saccharine and synthetic in its inflection.

The quirk worms its way into his mind, twisting his thoughts into agreement. If Shoto wasn't already aware that the man would use his quirk on him, it'd become blatantly apparant in the way Shoto nearly nods along. It takes more effort than it should to keep himself still and to drown out that invasive thought.

Shoto’s fingers twitch as he forcibly resists hitting the man again – even if it would be so, so satisfying.

Not yet. I don’t want anyone else hurt.

No one else but him, of course.

That rough, snickering voice in the back of his mind finds company as Shoto imagines what it’d be like to break the man’s jaw. How euphoric it must be.

“Never,” he finally says after forcing down the compulsive need to agree and trying to (still unsuccessfully) glare a hole through the man.

Despite the unshakeable certainty in his voice and the aggressive defiance dripping from his body, Murmur just smiles softly, right back to genial in another whiplash of emotions. Keeping up with the shifts is nearly as exhausting as resisting his influence.

“Of course, Shoto. Of course,” he says kindly, amusedly. He reaches forward to pat Shoto’s shoulder only to yank his hand back quickly as a flame sprouts to life before he can make contact. The man looks at his red fingers, glances back at Shoto with that look in his eyes, before he chuckles and walks toward the door.

“Get comfortable. Our first session will begin soon,” he says over his shoulder before he exits. Just around the door frame, two monochromatic masks watch him in silence.

The door clicks shut and Shoto is once again left with nothing but the buzz of the lights and the sting of his thoughts.

Shoto doesn’t relax for several minutes. He watches the door like a hawk, prepared in case Murmur comes back in or some other bastard is sent to ‘convince’ him. When it becomes clear no one is coming, Shoto sighs and slides back down to the floor with a knotted gut and trembling hands.

He needs to get out and fast.

If Murmur is being honest about rending his mind, then that makes time more precious.

But if I act rashly, someone innocent will pay for it.

He grimaces as he stares at his hands again.

What if that’s what’s necessary?

On one hand, he knows the longer he’s here, the more dangerous the situation becomes, the more compromised he may be, and the more people will be sold. Sitting around is just as bad as putting these people up for auction himself.

He clenches his left fist, feeling the heat of his aggravation and helplessness cycle through him, bringing up the temperature on his fire side in increments.

But, on the other hand, if that tracker is still here or those guards are outside his door, the moment he gets out, someone will suffer. They might actually die. Who is he to decide someone’s fate like that?

He clenches his aching right hand, fingers coiled in an arctic fist.

If it came down to it, could he make a sacrifice? Could he cross that line, surrender one to save the many? When push comes to shove, will he do what it takes? He’s growing less and less certain he’s strong enough for this.

He thinks back on Dabi’s harsh words, on death being the preferable fate.

Guilt hits him like an avalanche. No matter how he looks at the situation, he feels like he’s at a loss. Someone is going to get hurt and it’s his fault. His next breath stutters in his chest.

If I’d been better, I could have prevented this. If I’d been smarter, I’d already have a plan.

(He’s a child, he shouldn’t be turning lives into statistics and shouldering the responsibility.)

(But he’s not really a child, is he? He never was. Fate didn't write that into his path.)

He rubs a cold fist against his eyes and it comes back dry. Shoto feels like crying but he isn’t sure he remembers how. This isn’t a situation he can brute force his way out of, an enemy he can overwhelm with raw power. It’s too intricate, something he wasn’t trained for. He was told what to do if he was held hostage, being the son of a high-profile hero would make him a target, after all. But active hostage situations were theoretical and saved for heroics class.

He doesn’t know what to do.

All this coveted power, and for what? To be caged like a toothless animal? So, so useless.

He feels despair dig its claws into him, self-hatred biting at his throat. And then irritation at himself for letting these weak emotions find root so easily. What’s he to do, wallow in self-pity? Give up because it’s too hard? What’s the point of all his pain if he calls it quits so easily?

He was made for this. If all he can be good at in life is heroics, then he might as well lean into that.

I can’t just give up. I have to help the victims here or they’ll be gone forever.

And maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll get to punch Murmur in his smug mouth on the way out.

---

True to his word, Murmur comes by again.

He’s like a leech, Shoto thinks with no small degree of disdain.

But that meeting is just as unsuccessful as the first.

The third meeting is nearly hostile. It results in Shoto experiencing the true extent of Murmur’s quirk as the man jams thoughts into his brain like spikes. It’s nauseating and makes his skull feel like it’s splitting in two. The foreign ideas are so vibrant, lit up like neon lights in his mind, and so hard to ignore.

Shoto’s left curled in on himself, cradling his head in his arms and blood leaking from his nose.

It’s the first time he experiences the raw force of that quirk, but it won’t be the last.

By the fourth, both Shoto and Murmur are sick of this game.

“I’m growing tired of this. Aren’t you?” Murmur asks blandly, no longer caring to keep up his kind act.

Shoto scoffs from his position on the ground. He’s stopped rising to meet the man, barely even glances in his direction.

“If you’re tired, maybe you should go to sleep,” he says back just as tonelessly. He’s pointedly staring at the wall, keeping Murmur in his peripheral but not gracing him with his full attention.

“Cute.”

By the irritated way he says it, Murmur definitely does not think his snark is cute. Good.

With the pretense of equality gone, Murmur forgoes his usual conversation and dives right into his mind.

“You are a tool. Do you understand that?” he says like it’s a universal fact.

I am a tool.

Shoto groans and drops his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair as the idea is forcibly pounded into his head. It pervades every crevice, reaching even the furthest, darkest corners of his mind.

“No, I’m not,” he grits out even when everything in him says he should agree. Just saying that small refusal makes him feel like choking.

He barely registers Murmur’s presence as he fights to separate this invasive thought and what is really his mind.

“Yes, Shoto, yes you are,” Murmur says, closer now. “You are a tool, perfectly designed to be used by others. Why else would you have been formed so? Your quirk, your appearance, your skills, it’s all curated by fate to be used. Do you see?”

And wasn’t he thinking exactly that not too long ago? How his entire role in the world is to be used by others? It makes it so much harder to drive a wedge between Murmur’s manipulations and him.

“Shut up,” he says, nearly hissing as he presses his hands to his head like he can hold his splintering mind together.

“No. Not until you understand,” Murmur continues. The thought reinforces itself in his mind like a jackhammer. He feels his entire body twitch as he fights the intrusion. It feels an awful lot like his nose is bleeding again.

“I am not a tool. I’m not my quirk,” he says firmly, more as a reminder to himself than a statement to Murmur. He just has to remind himself of who he is. I’m a person, not a tool.

“You are.”

...He’s right. When have I ever been anything other than my quirk? Mom, Toya, Fuyumi, Natsu, they all suffered for my quirk. Endeavor made me for my quirk. I was taken for my quirk. That’s all anyone cares about. It’s all I’m used for.

He shakes his aching head like a dog.

No, shut up. Stop it. It’s not true. I’m a person, not a quirk.

And the war continues as he fights within himself. His quirk fluctuates as he struggles to find stability. His head feels like it’s cracking apart, like his brain will melt and drip right out of his ears.

“Stop it. Stop!” he yells as he tries to keep himself together. Voices, vicious, snarling things that whisper his worst thoughts and remind him of his place, echo one after another. It’s a cacophony so overwhelming, he nearly misses his captor’s chuckle.

“Oh, dear one, I wasn’t using my quirk that time.”

And Shoto doesn’t know when he leaves because he’s too busy fighting his own brain, doesn’t know how long he’s cradling his head and dripping blood onto the mat.

“I’m a person,” he reassures himself, voice hoarse like he’s been screaming this whole time.

An object, it hisses back.

“Not my quirk.”

It’s all I’m worth.

Even the fluorescents can’t drown this out.

The cycle repeats.

---

Before he’d been caught, Shoto had been under the assumption that being discovered and thrown back into Endeavor’s clutches was his worst possible outcome.

He was wrong. So very, very wrong.

The idea is compounded in the fleeting moments of cognizance before it’s inevitably chased away again when Murmur rips into his brain like he’s trying to lobotomize Shoto. It grows harder to distinguish reality from his captor’s woven fantasy. All he can do is cling to his repetition to ground himself.

My name is Shoto. I am a person, not a tool.

He doesn’t care if Murmur hears his persistent muttering as he keeps his eyes closed, focusing on his mantra to keep back any creeping doubts. Even if the ideas had been his own – this uncertainty of self – he chases it away viciously with his mantra because he can’t let Murmur have even the tiniest foothold in his mind.

(Even in the deepest throes of this conditioning, Shoto still manages to dredge up delightfully petty satisfaction knowing his stubbornness is annoying Murmur. Had the man thought he’d be easy to break because he’s young? Idiot.)

With each visit, the voices get harder and harder to drown out. Like sirens at sea, it grows ever more tempting to listen to them.

Give in, they say in a beguiling sing-song, we know it’s true.

And like always, he wills himself away, knowing it’s a trap but his will weakens under the unrelenting barrage.

My name is Shoto. I am a person, not a tool.

False. People are born. Tools are created. He created me to fulfill a purpose, just like people make weapons for war.

My name is Shoto. I am a person, not a tool.

Mom didn’t want a thing like me; like him. Wouldn't it be better to be with someone who wants me?

His refusal remains steadfast against the quirk and his body rebels. Murmur takes unkindly to his continued resistance.

It's unfortunate that it takes him vomiting blood and speaking to an unseen presence for the visits to slow. Murmur pulls back those mental talons and leaves Shoto crumbled in on himself, fighting to get a hold on reality.

My name is Shoto...

---

Meanwhile in Shinjuku:

Someone slips a note with a two-way radio into the middle of a particular hero's patrol route. The paper is nearly blank, but the coordinates it holds may as well be a gift from above.

When the hero reads this letter, it trembles ever so faintly in his grasp. Like a vengeful spirit, he turns on his heel and takes to the night. He'll test the validity of this note, see if it is what he suspects. (Oh, does he hope.)

If it proves true, a reckoning will follow.

(Besides, there's a certain aggravatingly unlucky non-vigilante he needs to speak to.)

#shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #aizawa shouta #shota aizawa #my writing #fanfic #hounds of fate #vigilante!shoto

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