#lonely and beholding would be popular anyway

[statementends]

Beholding 👁️ started the poll and Lonely 🌫️ did not participate. Extinction ☢️ was too late for sign up.

[cecilspeaks]

175 - The October Monologues

[static] [slightly distorted] The trees are dying again. You know it, I know it. The trees know it. They have known it for decades, centuries in some cases. The shiver of cyclic, symbolic death. A rattle in the cold night air. A rustle in the footsteps of a hungry deer. It is October and something is different. It is October and the trees draw the crackling red and orange curtain in the year’s final act. It is October, and so listeners, dear listeners, Night Vale community radio is proud to introduce The October Monologues.  

Faceless Old Woman: I am lonely. Oh, I see people. I see lots of people every day. I see you right now. I see you, Caleb, sitting in your rolling desk chair, hunched over your computer. I am a faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, watching you download yet another video game, Caleb.

But seeing people and being with people are different things. Different ideas altogether. I miss touch most of all. A father’s hand, a friend’s arms. A lover’s chest. I still touch, am touched, but it is not the same. It is not a mutual touch. My touch is unwelcome, unfriendly, unwanted. Yet I touch because I love.

And I love you, Caleb. I do. I know you don’t believe me after what I did to you tonight, but I do. My love is not romantic nor maternal. It’s not platonic, either. I love you the way a deer loves a cornfield. It is safe, it is nourishing. It is in its DNA to want to be there, to hide, to eat, to play. You’re very much like a cornstalk, Caleb. You are loved and you are benign. Better than benign, you are a contribution to this world. The cornstalk is unaware that a deer loves it so much that it will bend it and stomp it until its edible morsels spill out from its crumpled empty husk. The cornstalks, there are so many cornstalks, do not understand that they are so loved by the deer as to be devoured.

You’ve seen a kitten before, Caleb, I know you have. Sometimes kittens are so cute. So so so so cute that you wanna put them in your mouth. Do you understand that kind of love, Caleb, that kind of touch? You do not, no one does. And this is why I’m lonely. But I think you know that. You’re different. You’re lonely too. That’s not what makes you different, we’re all lonely in our own way.

You’re different, Caleb, because you know I am here. You see me even when I do not want to be seen. No one has been able to do that in at least 200 years. Sometimes you speak to me. Not in terror, not in rage; I’ve heard many of these voices in my life from those who feared and detested my presence. No, you ask me my name. I won’t tell you, not yet. You tell me about your day, I’m sorry your new boss is so mean, I will rectify this. And last night, you prepared a dinner for me. You’re not a good cook, I can smell that much, but it was your gesture of generosity that touched me. You made cashio e pepe, a recipe you learned from TikTok, and you prepared a bowl just for me. You waited to see if I would appear, and when I did not, you told me you understood wanting to eat alone, so you left it for me on the dining room table, as you went to play the new flight simulator.

Few men have ever been this kind to me before being frightened into it first, or without using their kindness as a disguise. I think you genuinely understand your own quiet desperation among the mass of men. And in turn, you understand others too. I don’t trust the kindness of men, Caleb. I don’t trust the kindness of women, either. Or anyone else’s kindness, to be truthful, but I especially don’t trust men’s kindness. There are exceptions. Andre, whose kindness was loyalty and honesty, and Albert, although his was a much different kind of kindness.

But Caleb, 23-year-old, unshaven, video game loving, boss hating aimless Caleb, your kindness frightens me. I’m scared of what you want, what it is you plan to take from me. Kind men have stolen my childhood, my morals, my money, my love, my life, and my family. What will you take from me, Caleb, that I have not already lost? I’m afraid. I’m afraid to respond to your gentle bait of friendship, because I am afraid you will take my loneliness from me. I am lonely, and that is a choice I have made for myself.

One day, Caleb, you will die. I know exactly when. It will not be of my hand, although I will do nothing to stop it. It is my fate, my path, to know such things. And in your death, you will return my loneliness to me, and it will be a horror to behold, bloody and misshapen. My loneliness, not recognizing its former owner, will howl an unholy and unceasing cry, and I will not be able to bear it.

This is what I fear, Caleb, and this is why I took the bowl of cashio e pepe you left for me and hurled it against the wall, just missing your cheek. I’m not sad that you screamed at me, I’m happy that you did so. This is how it has to be. We are not enemies, Caleb, no no. I love you deeply. Deeper than you can know. I am your deer Caleb, and you are my corn.

Cecil: The fiery flash of fall leaves stuns us, captivates us. Fireworks in slow motion. Or the crackling embers of a finishing flame. Upon the leaves are written instructions for how to make oxygen, how to give life, with every exhalation. How  to find flair in fading grace, and how to raise new life by falling to your death. The leaves know they will return again, so much will return again. We return now to the October Monologues.

Michelle Nguyen: There’s this new song I like, but I don’t wanna tell you what it is. I find it kind of embarrassing. Usually I love to talk about my favorite music. There was that summer I was obsessed with the new single by Saint Vincent. The single came in the form of a glazed vase containing three blue flowers. Only one was ever made, and I got the only copy. I found it very catchy, but the flowers eventually died. Or the year I spent listening over and over to that new Janelle Monae album. I forget the name, but the cover was a black and white picture of a well, and if you didn’t share it with someone else in 7 days, you would die. Of course no one ever died, because the album was so good, people just couldn’t stop telling their friends to listen.

My favorite song of all time is a blank cassette tape still in its plastic wrapper. It was owned by a man named Gary Joy. He was a real estate lawyer, reasonably successful, but he always dreamed of being a singer/songwriter. He dreamed all the time of quitting his job and writing songs, but he had never even written one song. Then one day, in a fit of optimism and energy, he bought this cassette, intending to make his first memo. But the day got away from him, and then the week, and then the rest of his life, and he never quit being a lawyer, and he never even wrote one song. This blank cassette tape, still in its wrapper, contains the potential of all the songs he could have written but never did, which is better and more powerful than any song anyone’s actually managed to write. The potential of the thing is always more perfect than the reality of the thing. However, and this is the crucial drawback, the potential is absolutely useless and the reality, however imperfect, can be quite useful. Anyway, I like to hold Gary Joy’s unwritten demo and imagine what it would be like. Hold on, sorry. There’s a customer.

[bell dings] Welcome to Dark Owl Records. What? No, no. No. No! No. OK, bye! [bell dings] Sorry about that. Some people are so unreasonable. I don’t even know what a Taylor Swift is.

But there’s a new song I like, and it’s not cool like my other favorite songs. It’s not a song that fits the kind of image I like to project. When I put on my mirrored leggings, my extra long jorts, and my really big hat, people expect something from me. They expect me to be on the cutting edge. They expect me only to be into bands that aren’t popular yet, or will never be popular, or that frankly don’t know how to play their instruments very well. And the song I like now is not any of those things. It’s… ordinary. It’s… popular. I don’t wanna say what it is. Remember when I only listened to the sound of beez buzzing? That was a good summer. Of course I got stung once or twice or 30 times. [sighs] Hold on, sorry, there’s a customer.

[bell dings] Welcome to Dark Owl Records! Hey. Hey! Hey! Hey! HEEEEY! Thanks, nice to see you again. [bell dings] Sorry about that.

I’m tired of being cool. I was going to say trying to be cool, but trying implies the possibility of failure, and there has never been a moment when I’ve failed to be cool. But here’s the hard truth I’ve come up against: being cool is a young person’s game. And that’s not because young people are better or more interesting than older people. God no. God no. God no! It’s that coolness itself is a concept tied to youth. Coolness is a reactionary manifestation of insecurity. The more insecure you are, the cooler you need to be. It’s colorful plumage. But as I’ve gotten older, I no londer need flashy plumage. I just wanna sit in the comfort of who I am, and not worry about what that looks like from the outside.

Anyway, I can’t stop listening to “Karma Police” by Radiohead. It’s just… a good song, you know? Hold on, sorry, there’s a customer.

[bell dings] You! You’ll never catch me alive! [sound of running] [bell dings]

Cecil: An abundance of words, words falling, fluttering to the earth. Words crunching beneath our feet. They were beautiful once, the words. Now they are beginning to rot, to wilt, to compost, to ferment new growth. To fertilize new words growing upon great trunks of paragraphs and chapters, but not now. Those will come later. Now the words sputter and drop in spiraling arcs to the ground. Here, then, are the final few brightly painted words falling upon you now. The October Monologues.

Steve Carlsberg: What does it mean to be believed? I’ve always known that Night Vale isn’t like other places. As long as I can remember, I could see that. I could also see that no one else could see it. I was alone in my knowledge. Knowledge may be power, but power is often lonely. My grandfather knew. He could see that I was like him. “Steve,” he would say, “us Carlsbergs have always been the town pariahs, but just because they hate you, doesn’t mean they’re right.” I would sit at night as a kid and listen to Cecil on the radio. He was the same age as he is now, and at the time he seemed so wise. But I would hear him dismiss what I knew shouldn’t be dismissed. I would hear him cover up what should be uncovered, and I would know with a child’s certainty that it was wrong. I loved him still. Everyone in town loves Cecil. It is possible to love someone who you know is doing wrong. It’s terribly easy, in fact.

What does it mean to be believed? As a teenager, I started trying to express what I saw about the world. I gave a presentation in my social studies class called “Night Vale – there’s literally nowhere like it”, and I thought it was informative. The class all plugged their ears in unison. The teacher stopped me a minute in, glancing nervously at the 8 surveillance cameras monitoring the classroom. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” the teacher hissed at me. I remember that her breath smelled like Strawberry Jolly Ranchers, and there was a lose crumb of mascara in the sweat of her temples. “No,” I said. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not the kind of question that demands a sincere answer. The report earned me a trip to the principal’s office, and then the re-education pit, which honestly is not as bad as its name. I mean, almost not as bad. It’s pretty bad. It’s a pit, for re-education. So, certainly learned something from that re-education. I learned that you’re equally likely to be punished for being right as you are for being wrong.

What does it mean to be believed? I was a young man entering the workforce, and I had long ago learned to hide away what I knew about my city. I had learned the handshake and the smile, the nod and the necktie, all the signifiers that hid what I truly signified. All of life is a code, and I had been thought the key against my will.

I got a job as a bank teller at the Last Bank of Night Vale. I studied with great interest the townsfolk who came and went there. I learned about their lives and their secrets, and what kind of money they made for the whispered deals out back of quiet parking lots just before the sun went down, pulled up next to a black Sedan that contained their handler who they only knew by a false first name. but I couldn’t forget what I knew, even if I learned to playact that I had. What I know shapes who I am. I can’t close my eyes, not to this town I love. This weird and secret town I love.

What does it mean to be believed? Then I married into the family of Cecil Palmer, host of Night Vale community radio! And he hated me, because he could see that I knew. And after all these years, my mask had slipped a little. I’d lost my interest in hiding. I wanted to speak the truth as I knew it, nothing could be more threatening to Cecil. His life and livelihood depended on speaking the truth as the City Council wanted it. Or as the Vague yet Menacing government agencies crafted it. And here I was, pointing out to him the sky. There are glowing arrows in the sky, there are dotted lines and arrows and circles. The sky is a chart that explains the entire world! I tried to tell him, and this only made him hate me more. I tried to share who I was with him, and this only made him recoil. 

Abby listened to my stories, but she never shared my enthusiasm for the truth. “Let it lie,” she would say, “let it lie.” But that’s he point, I can’t let it lie and I can’t lie! We’ve done that for too long! We’ve let our town sit heavy under the weight of euphemism and half truth, and unless someone just said what they saw for once, we would be crushed eventually by that weight!

And then it all changed. I wasn’t alone. The others saw that we lived in a weird place. And you know what? We kept existing. Our world didn’t end merely because we dared acknowledge it. Cecil and I are friends now. I haven’t forgotten how he treated me, but I understand it and I forgive it. Forgiveness and understanding are not the same as forgotten.

What does it mean to be believed? It means everything. It means all.

Cecil: And as the leaves are done, so are the October Monologues. All that can be said has been said. And all that can be said will be said again.

Today’s proverb: Listen, it might seem like everything’s bad right now.

[ga-yuu]

'Lust of lovers in the summer' Story Event~Morinaga Route

(It's hot again today....)

I walk in the sunshine, wiping the sweat off my face.

But despite the heat, joyful voices could be heard from all over the town.

Merchant 1: "It's almost the summer festival, isn't it? Morinaga-san and his friends are going to do something, aren't they? Have you heard the details?"

Merchant 2: "No, not at all. But it’ll be fun with that man leading the way."

Merchant 3: "Yes. I wonder, what's in store for us?"

(As expected of Morinaga-san..... Everyone is hyped.)

In order to liven up the town of Kamakura, which is suffering from the extreme heat, the samurai of Kamakura decided to hold a summer festival.

Morinaga-san was appointed by Yoritomo-sama to take charge of this.

He is now working with his men in one part of the town to prepare for the festival.

(I can only help by bringing some refreshments, but I hope the festival is a success.)

....................

(Oh, I think this is the workshop.)

It looks like they have just stepped out onto the back of the stage, which is being assembled.

Yoshino: "Um, hello. I've brought you some----"

Morinaga: "Oh hey, Yoshino. Come here."

(Ha!!!..... Half-naked Morinaga-san!)

His exposed, water-soaked upper body is a sight to behold.

Morinaga: "Oh, sorry about this. I was just taking a dip in the water because I was sweating at work."

Morinaga-san approached me looking like that.

Yoshino: "Erm....where are the others?"

Morinaga: "We decided to take a break a while ago."

Yoshino: "Um, Morinaga-san...if you could...wear your kimono back on...?"

Morinaga: "Why? You have already seen me like this last night. Are still embarrassed? No wait,.....You're embarrassed because you saw me like this last night, isn't it?"

Morinaga-san bent down lightly and looked into my eyes, and my cheeks heated up.

Yoshino: "Nn..Don't tease me....."

Morinaga: "Sorry, I must have hit the nail on the head."

Morinaga-san's smile deepens as I look away, unable to bear my embarrassment.

Morinaga: "You're so cute."

He looked at me with his sweet, lechery eyes and my heart clenched.

(But....I'm at the mercy of Morinaga-san all the time.)

I have only recently fallen in love with him, and I am swept away by the little antics of the more mature Morinaga-san.

Morinaga: "There's nothing wrong in having a shy face, but it's lonely when you look away so much."

Taking both my hands, Morinaga-san let me hook them around his neck, wondering what I was thinking.

(Wh-Whaa...this position?)

Morinaga: "You looked me right in the eye last night, didn't you? It was lovely to see you begging for it, .....but I don't think I'll see it again today."

Yoshino: "Mm...."

A thick-skinned finger flicked my lips, causing a slight sensation of pleasure.

Morinaga-san's face comes to me as if he was enjoying seeing me blushing....

We kissed,....a soft tongue crept through the opening to gently pamper my mouth.

Yoshino: "Hmm....ah..."

Morinaga: "At last a voice that sounds familiar..."

(Mm....I don't know, but it's like he's trying to revive the last night's memories...)

Morinaga-san embraces my waist with his big hands and melts me with his mouth.

In between, his hands start to trace my legs from my waist, reminding me of how he touched me last night.

From my toes to my head, I felt a sweet sensation that sent shivers down my spine.

Yoshino: "Haa.....No, Morinaga-san. Someone...might see us...."

Morinaga: "How can I stop, when you make that lovely face? You're such a sly, first, you make that face, and then you won't even let me play."

Yoshino: "What do....you mean by 'play'?"

Morinaga: "Play with you, of course."

Yoshino: "No. Not now....!"

I shouted and pressed the package against his chest and Morinaga-san chuckled.

Yoshino: "Are you teasing me....?"

Morinaga: "No,..... it's just that you're so comfortable with me that I got carried away."

(.....Mm)

A gentle but dangerous flame of greed burned in his eyes, which were drawn back by a pleasant smile.

As soon as I realized this, we kissed again.

Samurai 1: "Morinaga-sama! We're back!"

(.....!?)

Samurai 1: "Huh, I don't see Morinaga-sama."

Samurai 2: "Maybe he had gone somewhere?"

(Everyone is back....!)

A voice from the other side of the stage made me instantly impatient.

They are nice people who are happy to see us together, but there is no way I can show them this.

Yoshino: "Morinaga-san, they are all here. Let go now...."

I try to pull away, but the hand on my hip doesn't budge.

Morinaga: "Heh, are you sure you wanna go in front of other men with that face?"

Yoshino: "Mm....."

The back of his fingers brushed my cheek, kindling another sweet tingle.

Morinaga: "Teary eyes, blushing face.... I'm the only one allowed to see you like this. Isn't that right?"

Yoshino: ".....Y-Yes..."

Morinaga: "Yeah, good girl."

Satisfied with my reply, Morinaga-san comes closer and rubs the tip of our noses together....

When I had my fill of hidden kisses, the package I had to deliver was gently taken away.

Morinaga: "I'll deliver this. If they see you right now, I'll be jealous. Thank you, and be careful on your way back."

Yoshino: "Ah....."

(---Let's run.)

Even my breath is hot and I feel a little embarrassed again.

(Alas! What a sly person.......... who only makes me throb.)

.................

One day after that-----

Merchant 1: "Did you hear? There's going to be a big raffle at the festival, and everyone gets to draw once."

(Heh, I see.)

I came to the town to sell medicine and listened to the voices I heard.

But then----

Merchant 1: "And the raffle! The first prize is the right to have one wish granted by Morinaga-sama."

(Ehh?)

Merchant 2: "Is that so? Well, then we'll have our roof repaired."

Kids: "We want Morinaga-san to play with us!"

Merchant 3: "Hmmm, maybe I'll have a lesson in the art of gambling then."

(Hehe. There are many kinds of wishes.)

I smile as people talk happily about the festival.

Woman: "Really!, then, that I should invite Morinaga-sama on a date."

(....!?)

Merchant 1: "Well, maybe you will surely get your way with him! Now we'll all be participating in the raffle anyway!"

(No no no no.....whaa?)

I could no longer listen to their excited laughter with any sense of calm.

(Is it possible that Morinaga-san will go on a date with other women....?)

....................

Morinaga: "Ohhh, so I'm the prize. I've been a winner but never been a prize before."

Yoshino: "What do you mean, you didn't know?"

When I asked him about it after returning to the Imperial Palace, he gave me a very relaxed response.

Kagetoki: "You're very popular with people. It's going to be a lot of fun, isn't it?"

Morinaga: "I'm not sure if that was your idea, Kagetoki, I don't mind, though. But at the very least, you should have informed me about this. Yoritomo-sama, entrust this to me, you know?"

Kagetoki: "It's not going to change anything. It's up to you to make it happen."

Morinaga: "That's true."

As Morinaga-san pondered this, my concern deepened.

(.....I'm sure it's a good event, as the aim is to provide fun for the people of the town.)

(But what if Morinaga-san goes on to date with the person who drew the first prize...!)

...................

After Morinaga-san and Kagetoki-san had gone, I gave a small shrug of my shoulders.

(I don't want Morinaga-san to go on a date with....any other woman.)

Shigehira: "Yoshino-san, what are you doing here?"

Yoshino: "! Shigehira-kun."

When I expressed my concerns to Shigehira-kun, who said he would listen to me, he looked at me in dismay.

Shigehira: "Oh, dear! That's what you're worried about?"

Yoshino: "Yeah!"

Shigehira: "It's certainly possible that a woman with such hopes could win first prize."

(Mmmmm....)

Shigehira: "But I don't think he's going to take it very well with you around. I think you should talk to him directly, not me."

Shigehira: "----You guys are in love, right?"

Yoshino: "....! Thank you, Shigehira-kun."

(It's nice to have straightforward encouragement at a time like this.)

(Okay. Let's talk to Morinaga-san about this later.)

.................

But Morinaga-san was always busy, and time went by without him having a chance.

(Hmmm, what to do....)

The day before the festival, I was returning from the city to the palace with a troubled mind.

(Oh, I can hear some voices....)

(Morinaga-san must be rehearsing for his festival.)

I stopped to look around and a shrine happened to catch my eye.

(I'm not sure if I'll be able to see him today... can I ask God for help?)

I put my hands together, closed my eyes, and breathe.

(I have one wish....-----)

(May I win the first prize in tomorrow’s raffle!)

Morinaga: "You look very serious. Is something bothering you?"

Yoshino: "Ah, Morinaga-san.....!?"

Morinaga: "Hey. It's been a while since I've seen our face properly."

I looked up at the familiar voice and saw Morinaga-san standing right next to me.

Yoshino: "What are you doing here? I thought you were practicing?"

Morinaga: "Right. We were just about to wrap up. I was just about to join you. But what's wrong with you? It seems like you're asking God for help."

(Okay....there's no better opportunity than now.)

Yoshino: "Morinaga-san, I have something to talk about. Can I have some of your time?"

Morinaga: "Talk? About what?"

Yoshino: "If it's a bother then----"

Morinaga: "Not at all. You're always welcome to talk to me. Then come to my house tonight. It's been a while since we've spent any time together."

Yoshino: "Yes....!"

(I only got my promise. Thank you god.)

.........

Thus, I was invited to visit Morinaga-san in his room....

I went to the house at a time when the practice would be over and was immediately shown into Morinaga-san's room.

(Hmm. I don't think he's home yet....)

I relaxed my shoulders and looked around.

As I was wondering how I was going to start the conversation----

I heard someone's footsteps walking towards me.

Morinaga: "Here you are. Have I kept you waiting long?"

(Ah.....!)

Yoshino: "No, I just arrived...."

No sooner had I said this than Morinaga-san sat down in front of me.

Morinaga: "Come here."

(Ehh!)

He lifts me up by my waist and placed me on his lap.

Morinaga: "What do you wanna talk about? Let me hear it."

(Like this....!?)

This position, straddling on Morinaga-san's lap and resting my weight on them is too embarrassing.

But the hands that pulled me down to my waist wouldn’t allow me to move away.

Morinaga: "I'm getting a bit tired after all the work we've been doing for the festival. It wouldn't hurt to get a little energy from my own little girl for a night, would it?"

(That's a little.....)

My heart fluttered as I realized that the eyes staring at me had long since reached a fever pitch.

Morinaga: "Hey, can I kiss you?"

Yoshino: "....... Yes."

His slightly rough, masculine lips press softly against mine.

(Mm.....)

I haven't had the sensation of a moist, repeated kiss for days.

The feeling makes us breathless, and we lose ourselves in each other.

(Oh, my hands....)

I felt a gentle nudge of the leg that had been straddling my thigh, and the pit of my stomach slowly....melted.

The finger that entered through the hem of the kimono traced up my inner thigh as if it had seen through it.

(Ah-----no!)

I wondered at his hand, which had stopped just before touching my fragile part, and met his eyes, which narrowed happily.

Morinaga: "...I think I'd better go on from here after I've heard all your troubles. What's the matter?"

(Ngh....)

Yoshino: "Not fair....Morinaga-san..."

(You stopped it on purpose....!)

I looked at Morinaga-san, in tears and he smiles back at me.

Morinaga: "Don't get me wrong. You see, if I don't ask you now, I won't have the chance to ask later."

(Hm...Mm....)

The hand that had been touching my waist, started stroking lovingly, and I couldn't help but rock my hips unintentionally.

Yoshino: "This is....embarrassing..."

Morinaga: "Well then...

(Oh, I'm still at his mercy....)

Embarrassed, I finally gave up.

I started talking about how I was worried after hearing that anyone could be the winner in the raffle, and the winner could ask on a date with Morinaga-san.

I also revealed that I asked God to let me win the first prize.

Morinaga: "You're really cute."

Yoshino:"...Don't laugh."

Morinaga: "I'm not teasing you. I'm just really happy."

Morinaga-san stroked my cheek and my eyes softened....

Morinaga: "But Yoshino, in such case, you should turn to me, not to God. Because it's my job, not anyone's, to grant your request."

(Morinaga-san....)

Morinaga: "And don't worry. If someone asks me to do something like that, I'll let him off with a no. I know it's a bit unfair, but I'm not saying I'll not do anything. I've already got the most important woman in the world, it's only natural, right?"

(Nn....)

The sweetness of his voice as he says it gently makes my heart tighten.

Yoshino: "So I'm the only one who can go out with Morinaga-an, right....?"

Morinaga: "Of course. And going on a date... You're the only person I'd want to do these kinds of things with."

I repeated his words in a low voice and hugged Morinaga-san, tightly.

(That's great.... I told Morinaga-san and in no time I had nothing but happy feelings.)

Morinaga: "...Did I reassure you a little?"

Yoshino: "Yes, thank you! This way, even if I don't win the first prize I won't be jealous of anyone else. Maybe I won't even have to draw lots at all."

Morinaga: "You're of those people who lives in Kamakura, so you have the right to draw. The pride of the Kamakura Shogunate, it's the best thing that's happened all summer. Come and try it for yourself."

Yoshino: "Sure. I'll try it to test out my luck."

I replied with a smile-- and Morinaga-san suddenly looked into my eyes.

Morinaga: "....Yoshino. What do you want me to do if you win the first prize? What's your wish?"

Yoshino: "Well....I'd like to enjoy our time together. Morinaga-san, you're always surrounded by so many people. So I will ask you to let me have you all to myself."

Morinaga-san laughed aloud.

Morinaga: "I hope you’ll really wish that when you win."

...............

On the day of the festival---

(Wow, what a busy street.)

The town, decorated with festive decorations, was crowded with spectators.

On a special stage, Morinaga-san and his friends were just finishing their performance.

Samurai 1: "Ah! Morinaga-sama, Yoshino-san is here."

Yoshino: "Morinaga-san, Thank you for your hard work."

Morinaga: "Yeah.....!"

Looking back at him, Morinaga-san's eyes widened and then he immediately smiled.

Morinaga: "My god, you tied your hair up today. It's nice and cool. It suits you. Oh, by the way, did you draw the raffle? It's about to close."

Yoshino: "About that...."

Samurai 2: "You're just in time. Go on, take one."

When I picked up one from the raffle boxes offered to me, I was a little nervous.

(But I'm fine.)

I looked up at Morinaga-san and his kind, narrowed eyes reassured me.

Samurai 1: “Um.... Actually, we’re sorry.”

Yoshino: “Huh? What for?”

Surprised by the sudden apology, a few of the people swept their eyes apologetically.

Samurai 1: “We were there when Morinaga-sama was planned to be the first prize for the raffle.”

Samurai 2: “Later we realized that if a woman who liked Morinaga-sama drew the first prize, what would she wish for.... You guys have just recently started dating, and we should have stopped them.”

Samurai 3: “But this one time we couldn’t. But we support Morinaga-sama and Yoshino-san from the bottom of our hearts!”

(Eh)

Standing next to me, Morinaga-san laughs out loud,

Morinaga: “Thank you for worrying about me. But that’s okay. I’ve already talked to Yoshino about it, right?”

Yoshino: “Yes!”

Samurai: “! What.....”

Morinaga-san and I chuckled, though we apologized for the puzzled looks on everyone’s faces.

Morinaga: “Well, I’d better get ready for the result announcement. Will you come to see the results?”

Yoshino: “Yes! I want to see if I win the first prize!”

Morinaga: “I’m looking forward to it too. Win the first prize and keep me to yourself.”

As the sun went down, the excitement of the festival covered the town of Kamakura.

Morinaga: “Well, here we go! It’s time for the Kamakura summer lottery, which our main attraction.”

(Finally....!)

The festival site was the most exciting place of the day.

Thanks to the support of the Shogunate, the prizes are all very generous.

(We all want to be challenged, don’t we?)

Many people who have won the raffle were happy with their prizes, while some were disappointed.

The tension and excitement grew with each successive announcement of the third and second prizes.

Morinaga: “And now, for the most awaited one! The first prize! I’ll grant the person who wins first prize, one wish. You can ask me any favor you want...-----”

Premium END // Epilogue

I loved it! I loved every bit of this story. So who do you think will win? Will it be Yoshino? or some random woman? or a kid? or Yoritomo-sama?.....you’re all free to guess.

[sunflowerhae]

butterflies by Kacey musgraves with jeno pls 🥺 I was LITERALLY listening to this song while I saw your post and took it as a sign 🥺

|📣 ▹▹ it WAS a sign my love! Enjoy! Also, I will say this is a bit longer than the others, so yeah lol🦋

Send in your own request!✨🍰🌙

|⚠️ caterpillar’s unfortunate death

“I was just coasting, never really going anywhere. Caught up in a web, I was getting kind of used to staying there”

You’ve known you didn’t like Lee Jeno since you were eight years old.

It was October; the leaves on the ground made loud, crunchy noises that were music to your ears when you walked home, and the weather was just cold enough for your mother to pack you into a light blue jacket and pull a beanie over your head before sending you off with a kiss and your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It was the day you had been waiting for, for what seemed like weeks; Miss Stacy’s First Grade Class was going to start raising butterflies.

You had been paired off into groups of four kids to one butterfly. You were in a group with a young girl named Yeri, and two boys named Renjun and Jeno. You would sometimes play tag with Yeri, and Renjun was your tetherball partner. You hadn’t had many interactions with Jeno; the older boy was always too busy playing kickball with the other boys to play with any of the girls - let alone you - but it didn’t matter to you; nothing did. All you could focus on was your beautiful caterpillar, and the excitement you felt about raising and then releasing it.

You had a routine.

Everyday, Renjun and you would come into the class and check on your caterpillar; change it’s water, give it more leaves; anything it needed, you gave it. In the afternoon, after lunch, Jeno and Yeri would do the same. However, that day Yeri had left school at lunch; her retreating figure slumping along as she did the walk of shame to her mother; anxious about the dentist appointment she had. You didn’t think twice before getting up from your spot under the tree and walking to the sand field not far from you; Jeno’s figure in your line of sight. He was waiting for his turn up to kick, laughing at something Na Jaemin had whispered to him, when he felt a small peck on his shoulder.

“H-hi Jeno oppa,” You shyly mumbled while looking down at your light up sketchers, not used to interacting with the elder boy.

“Hi.”

“So um, Yeri unnie left for the day, so I’ll be helping you with your caterpillar duties.”

Jeno gave you a confused look. “Oh, Why did noona leave?”

“Um, a dentist appointment I think.”

He shrugged his shoulders and gave you a weak, “okay,” Before turning back to the game.

You thought it was okay.

But clearly, it was not.

“I don’t understand why we even have to do this.” Jeno whined next to you as you wrote down how much the caterpillar had eaten since this morning to now (2 WHOLE leaves).

“Because, well...it’s cute” you shrugged.

“Well, I don’t want to do this lame work. We wouldn’t have to if we just killed the bug.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Kill the caterpillar? Not on your watch.

“N-no! We can’t kill it! It’s a living thing! Would you kill a cat?”

Jeno’s eyes went wide, and he frantically shook his head. “No! But this isn’t a cat, it’s a caterpillar!” He laughed.

You didn’t think this was a laughing matter, so you gave a small ‘humph’ and turned your head so you weren’t looking at Jeno anymore. Jeno, wanting to play a small joke on you, took this opportunity to silently open the caterpillar's cage, take out said caterpillar, and hide it in between his hands. He thought it was so funny; seeing you turn and freak out because the caterpillar wasn’t there anymore.

What wasn’t funny was when Jeno totally forgot living things need air to breathe.

It was quite a scene to behold; you were standing by the teacher's desk, sobbing so hard that snot came out of your nose, while softly holding the dead caterpillar's body in your little hands and caressing it with your left index finger. You couldn’t help but feel absolutely terrible. Somewhere out there, a little mommy butterfly is wondering when her baby will be home from his adventures in human children's land, and he’ll never return. He’ll never get to turn into a beautiful butterfly, and fly in the wind; spreading his beauty.

Jeno was also trying not the cry. He didn’t mean to kill the caterpillar. He just wanted to play a small prank on the girl he thought was pretty like his mommy. He did actually want to see the caterpillar turn into a butterfly. Renjun tried assuring him that it wasn’t a big deal, but Jeno still felt guilty. Especially when you wouldn’t stop caressing and petting the caterpillar, saying that, that way it doesn’t feel scared, or lonely. Saying that out loud to your teacher made you cry even more, and you didn’t stop crying until you were safely in the arms of your own mommy, while she pet your hair and held you while walking to the car.

The next day, you saw Jeno laughing and playing with his friends; seemingly having forgotten all about the caterpillar incident the day before. Your blood boiled. In the end, you got put into another caterpillar group, and got to release the butterflies anyway; but you never forgot about that one caterpillar incident with Jeno, and you vowed to never let your guard down around the older boy, and to always hate him.

And you had perfectly upheld that vow until sophomore year of high school.

“Now you're lifting me up, instead of holding me down Stealing my heart instead of stealing my crown Untangled all the strings round my wings that were tied”

Week 1

“It’s your fault we’re in here, so shut up!” Jeno had been nothing short of annoying for the past week while you both sat out your punishments in after school detention.

Why were you in after school detention, you ask?

It was no surprise that you two went the ways you did after elementary school. Jeno, being the most popular varsity soccer player by sophomore year - and you, being a valued member (gunning for president by senior year) of the photography club. It was because of the ways you two went, that you ended up in the position of taking the soccer photos for the yearbook. You had to stay at their practice for the whole two hours, but took a break halfway through to catch up on a bit of homework. Jeno, wanting to always be the center of (your) attention, thought it would be a hilarious prank to kick a soccer ball at you while you were looking down at your homework. The first time was harmless. It landed at your feet and startled you, sure, but you just glared at a laughing Jeno while throwing it - albeit, weakly - back. However, the second time he kicked it, neither of you got so lucky.

And that’s how you ended up with a broken $630 camera, Jeno with a bruised (you weren’t that good at punching) nose, and the both of you with a months worth of after school detention.

“My fault?! You’re the one that punched me!” You both sat at opposite ends of the classroom, but that didn’t stop you from fighting. The teacher had walked out to go get more coffee, so you two were free to argue.

“And you’re the one that broke my camera!” You fired back, which initiated you both yelling on top of each other in anger. Jeno wouldn’t usually be too upset about a small incident like this, but after school detention collided with his soccer schedule - which meant that for the next month, Jeno was off the team.

And boy, did he hate that.

“ENOUGH enough! Listen, I really don’t want to talk to you, so you stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine, deal?” You offered, already tired of yelling. Thankfully, Jeno mumbled out a,

“Fine,” and turned his gaze out the window with a sigh, just as the teacher was walking back in.

Week 2

“I need help with my homework.” Many people thought you were an easy A kind of person. You came off as a smart kid, but you secretly kept it in that your grades were genuinely terrible, and just prayed that no one found out.

Usually you would be with your math tutor, but with after school detention, that wasn’t possible. The teacher was, once again, not in the room (that happened a lot, although the times she was there, she was sleeping), and so your only hope was unfortunately, well, Lee Jeno. You knew he was smart - sports kids had to have good grades. You really hoped that he would help you, and wouldn’t laugh, and wouldn’t tell anyone that he did.

When he heard you, he was so ready to laugh in your face and spit out a “no way”, but when he looked up and saw your pouty gaze, well, he was sold. So, instead, he mumbled out a small, “yeah sure” - to which you smiled and took a seat next to him.

It was only once you were already out of the school building did you realize that not only did you two not fight that whole time, but you actually made jokes with each other, and you sat with him the rest of detention.

Shit.

Week 3

“-And so I quickly grabbed her and said ‘no yeri, those aren’t eggs!’ And she spit them out onto the floor while yelling!” The milk Jeno was in the middle of downing quickly flew from his nostrils as he broke out in laughter at the climax of the story you were telling him. You quickly had to shush him while laughing yourself; making wide eyed glances back and forth between him and your detention teachers slumped figure.

It wasn’t that you two were friends, oh no, definitely not. You just had no one else to talk to in detention, so Jeno and you found yourselves sitting next to each other and actually having civilized conversations that didn’t end in having to be separated. The thought of you two being friends still disgusted you, and you refused to admit that you were becoming close.

This is as far as I will get you told yourself.

I only have one more week, and then I can go back to hating him.

But do I still want to?

You didn’t know this, obviously, but Jeno was thinking the same thing.

Week 4

You and Jeno were slowly walking down the empty hallways of your school after your last detention together. Not a word was said between the two of you; both afraid of what might be shared.

You didn’t want to stop talking to Jeno. In the last four weeks, you’ve come to actually enjoy your time together - finding that you had more in common than you thought. While you never would have admitted it before, you’ve always kind of wanted to get to know Jeno, even if you did think he was a jerk. So the idea of not talking to him made you quite upset, though you tried not to show it.

Finally, the two of you got to the entrance doors of your high school, but neither pushed them open. You both just stood there, exchanging awkward glances back and forth, and hoping that the other wouldn’t leave. This went on for around a minute, before something was finally said by Jeno, “y/n, can I be honest,” you nodded, “I don’t want to go back to hating you.”

“Same!” You exclaimed a bit too quickly, the both of you giggling messes at the fact.

“Actually, if it’s alright with you, I was wondering if you, maybe, I don’t know, wanted to see a movie with me tomorrow?” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, and in the pit of your stomach, you could feel a lonely little butterfly begin to flap its wings as you nodded at his offer with a smile on your face.

“Now I remember what it feels like to fly You give me butterflies”

The breeze from the open windows pulled and pushed your hair every which way as you closed your eyes and smiled from your spot in the passenger seat.

The speaker was blasting with Kacey Musgraves, and you almost felt yourself falling asleep, but the hand that slid into your own had you opening your eyes and glancing at the boy occupying the driver's seat. He was glancing back and forth between the road and yourself with a smile on his face, and you couldn’t help the content sigh that fell past your lips.

“What’s up, baby?” Jeno mumbled, always worried when it came to you.

“Nothing, you just make me so happy.”

Jeno’s smile widened, and he brought your interlocked hands up to his lips, and kissed the back of your hand, before looking at you and saying, “happy three year anniversary”.

First, your mind is occupied with that little 8th year old girl, crying while glancing down at the dead caterpillar in her hands.

Then, you think back to that moment in front of the entrance doors to your school, where that little butterfly in your stomach popped up for the first time, and your heart warms at the thought that that butterfly lives in a garden of its own kind now.

[nullset2]

Mother 3 - An In-depth Critique and Review

Ah, Mother 3, how I love you so!

The game which with which I forwent all possible aspirations to healthily integate into normal High School society: imagine walking into a party, people are drinking and being cool, and you ask them if they have ever played a very underground, very deep RPG only released in Japan called "Mother".

Yeah! I know! It's like you're asking to be bullied, and I realized it too late.

But anyway!

Mother 3 is one of the most important games you could ever play --alas, if only it wasn't near impossible to obtain it.

Yet, perhaps this adds to its allure and to the power of its narrative --a narrative which, by the way, I'm convinced is the very actual reason why it will never release formally in the United States.

As time has passed, I've actually become more and more impressed about how relevant the game is to the socioeconomic reality that we are in nowadays. I'm impressed that Shigesato Itoi had all of this in his mind's eye as early as 1996, and that the story was already written down in 1999!

Right now it's been 14 years since it's release on the GBA, but I think that the game is a timeless classic and warrants a playthrough now more than ever. Wanna know why?

Wanna find out?

Part 1. "A Japanese Copywriter's Americana"

The year is 1989 and a Japanese Copywriter --somebody who writes "Catch Copies", which are a sort of a long-form slogan that is very common in Japanese pop culture to advertise)-- by the name of Shigesato Itoi became a fan of the Dragon Quest series of RPGs, which are massively popular in Japan, even to this day. He also loved video games: he's asthmatic, so he recalls only being able to sleep sitting up as a child, and having to occupy his lonely time through asthma attacks playing video games, since he had to sit up and had nothing else to do at night.

His love of RPGs would linger in his mind until 1989 when he had an opportunity to meet with Hiroshi Yamauchi and Shigeru Miyamoto and was offered the opportunity to develop a video game with Nintendo. Harkening back to the endless hours he poured into Dragon Quest, his concept eventually took form by deriving from it. He called the story "MOTHER", as a reference to John Lennon's "Mother", since he is a very hardcore fan of The Beatles. The games have tons of obvious influence by old American films and comics, like ET and Peanuts, which he also loved very much.

For MOTHER, he wanted to explicitly go against the grain, by designing an RPG without "Swords and Magic", which stereotypically most RPGs follow, even from things as minor as to design a protagonist who was weak and vulnerable, asthmatic and without a Father Figure, yet, still heroic through much toil --which reflects Ninten from the original MOTHER for the famicom.

Miyamoto, in his usual taskmaster persona, arranged a team to work with Itoi for the creation of the RPG, by bringing in people from HAL laboratory and APE Inc, and thus MOTHER was born to great Japanese Acclaim. A game which took many risks in its genre, such as eschewing the idea of a separate overworld from navigation in the towns, the subject matter, the movement system and many other things which made it quite Unique. It was so popular that soon after the first project was released, MOTHER 2 started development, involving people from what's currently known as Game Freak and HAL Labs.

MOTHER 2 is a very unique game because it was the very first time that the series attempted to make an incursion in the Americas. Releasing in a big flamboyant flashy box, with a strategy guide and a bunch of goodies included, MOTHER 2 released as Earthbound in the states, a bigger and better version of the vision of the first game. Better graphics, Beatles references, sampled audio, pop culture cornucopia, it's all here and then some!

Famous for its role in technically driving the game, Satoru Iwata, ex-CEO and software developer for Nintendo,7 of Wii acclaim, helped the game meet its 1996 release date. It is known that the original version of the game ran into deep technical issues which the original dev team was not able to overcome. Once Satoru Iwata got involved, the game was reworked to a viable version and released to much critical acclaim. In his own words, he proposed to rewrite the tech that powered the main game. It was a matter of either continuing with the current code and be done in two years, or redoing everything and being done in six months under his vision, he said.

No matter its strong promotion from Nintendo, the marketing got botched, and the game paled compared to the flashy and bombastic magical RPGs of its era, like Final Fantasy VI, Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger of all things. So, Earthbound faced a very bad destiny in the states, by releasing to low acclaim, bad review scores and terrible sales numbers --even though it eventually reached Cult Classic status, due to its pure hearted nature, its hallucinogenic themes and characters, and its fantastic spirit over all.

And this game is worthy of discussion by itself a whole bunch because of the ripple effects it had in video game culture in the Western world. Enter starmen dot net. To this date, the epicenter of discussion for everything related to the MOTHER series. There you had me as early as 2002, browsing a half-rendered version of starmen dot net in a dingy computer in some dingy internet cafe in some shitty neighborhood in Mexico, trying to be a part of the discussion and the hype.

To this date, I consider starmen dot net as the non-plus-ultra case for how passionate Internet fan cultures can become.

Flat out, no other fandom has ever came close to the level of dedication, attention to detail and passion to tribute the original creation around which its fans congregate. A massive amount of fan paraphernalia has come out of starmen dot net --yes, even Undertale, 2015 indie darling RPG thing, originally got started on the Starmen dot net forums. People married and even started large, commercially viable enterprises, such as Fangamer.net, the firm which publishes Undertale, from starmen dot net.

...and then... silence...

After Earthbound's 1995 release, we enter a ten year hiatus for the series.

Even though both MOTHER games were incredibly popular in Japan, HAL Laboratory and APE Inc. weren't able to successfully make a jump onto the third dimension for the series come the Nintendo 64 era. They had a demo come the infamous Spaceworld 96, where a bunch of pre-release games for the then called "Ultra 64", which was the codename for the Nintendo 64, were showcased. And lo and behold, we have a sequel to Mother coming out, called Mother 3, the ROM for which has never been found by the way.

I'd love to get a look at the materials in that ROM.

The scarce footage we have available from it exhibits some of the elements we ended up seeing in the final released version of the game, like some of the original music like the Mozart ghost theme, and the DCMC section, albeit in a more primitive low poly way. It is known that both studios weren't very proficient at 3d Game development yet, which was still nascent. This together with other factors, such as the fact that at some point development was moved onto the unreleased-in-America, unpopular 64DD addon, undisclosed factors dropped the game into development hell, which ultimately led to its cancellation in the year 2000.

Plenty of mystery surrounded the now defunct project, to the dismay of a bunch of passionate fans in Starmen.net and elsewhere online. However, it turned out that the valiant effort of the fans, who made a huge amount of effort to campaign for the revival of the series, even mailing fanmail, fanart and other materials to the Itoi Shinbun offices in Japan (a titanical task in the world of the early 2000s).

Fast forward to 2003, and the Game Boy Advance, the little portable console that could, was in its Apex. Due to Satoru Iwata's campaining, it was announced that development on MOTHER 3 would be restarted, this time in 2D, for the gameboy advance. Much anticipation in Starmen.net followed this announcement, since it finally validated its efforts...

Come 2006, once the console was well into its end-of-life, with small nudges to play the game on a Gameboy player if possible, perhaps to try to follow suit with its predecessors, the sequel finally released to much acclaim. But what did Shigesato Itoi have in store for everyone all along? What kind of beast had just been unleashed onto the World?

Part 2. "Of Monkeys and Men"

Mother 3 follows the story of a young boy, Lucas, in a multi-chapter structure, which is novel for the series but not unheard of in the RPG genre. Besides this, the RPG plays very similar to your usual JRPG fare, and basically uses the Ultimately polished version of the MOTHER series' mechanics, groovy backgrounds and all.

The first three chapters of the game follow the perspective of different characters residing in Tazmilly Village as the plot of the game unfolds. The plot is centered around the residents of a peaceful town in an Island in an unspecified location, Nowhere Islands, which in my opinion is an allegory both of Japan and America, moreover with the fact that the game of the logo very clearly has a rising sun covered in metal, in a logo that's an amalgam of two different things which don't match, a subtle reference to the game's undertones to come.

From these residents we come to know the daily lives of a particular family: Flint, a farmer; Hinawa, his wife (a name in reference to Sunflowers, Himawari, her favorite flower), and their twin children, Lucas and Claus.

The game begins in the midst of their idyllic life in the mountains visiting Lucas' grandfather Alec, and playing around with meek dinosaurs which inhabit Nowhere Islands. See, in the world of Mother 3, no violence truly exists, and people have come to live peacefully with each other and nature. There's no such thing as the concept of money, Instead relying on an economy that's mostly based around bartering and hospitality.

However, everyone's lives veer into turmoil once strange alien beings invade, the Pigmask army, an army of big, fat and slovenly creatures dressed in pig-like attire, who seem to have a vast amount of technology and resources at their disposal yet aim for Nowhere Islands for colonization.

The Pigmasks have an as-of-yet unnamed leader, who is demanding them to make everything in the World "bigger, cooler, stronger and faster", and thus they seize Nowhere Islands by force of bombings and a forest fire to use its flora and fauna. And thus, while escaping from the forest fires returning from Alec's home, Hinawa tragically gets killed by a Drago which has been modified to be aggressive against its nature through robotics implanted in it by the Pigmask army.

There's an unused cutscene in the game's ROM data where Hinawa, instead, dies by bomb explosion...

...yeah, I'm just... gonna let you process that one by yourself ;)

The Drago left a fang in the middle of her heart, which is recovered by one of the Tazmillians and provided back to Flint along with a fragment of her crimson dress. Besmirched and angry, Claus, the festier one of the twin children, sets out to try to hunt the drago and achieve revenge, but he goes missing... Flint embarks in search of Claus and to kill the drago, and thus the first chapter of the game concludes, with the implication that Claus has gone missing...

With Lucas' family torn to shreds and The Pigmasks invading Tazmilly, it seems that we're in a situation ripe for disaster.

Chapter 2 follows Duster's adventure, which runs in parallel (as every other chapter will) to other chapters' stories. Duster is the last heir in a bloodline of Cat Burglars whose abilities are not in use anymore given that Tazmilly has no more commerce or crime. However it turns out that the Pigmask invasion puts his skills back in demand to infiltrate Oshoe Castle and retrieve an artifact which the Pigmasks are after and which Duster's family is the guardian of. The nature of the artifact in Oshoe Castle is as of yet unknown, however it is implied that it is important to the fabric of Tazmilly village.

At Castle Oshoe, Duster meets a mysterious princess, Kuma-tora (which translates literally to "beartiger", in allusion to the dichotomy of her existence, since she is very... masculine in attitude and refers to herself with, yes, male pronouns, perhaps anticipating identity politics by 14 years at least), who is also after the artifact in the Castle, the Hummingbird egg. The chapter ends with the Hummingbird Egg going missing, and a mysterious peddler of goods arriving into town, while Kumatora and Duster's father realize he has gone missing...

Chapter 3 follows the adventure of a little Monkey, Salsa, which gets flown into Nowhere Islands to perform a job. This is a novelty in a town where the concept of a job doesn't exist as of yet, however, the peddler of goods is going to need a lot of hands if he wants to fullfill his vision. The peddler, Fassad (which is a tongue in cheek way to say "facade", right?) promises to all residents in Nowhere Island eternal happiness if they buy his newest product, the "Happy Box", a television-like contraption which glows with a warm light and which people are attracted to and engrossed by. For this, he introduces the concept of money and swindles people his way, convincing them that this is the way to go and promising them excitement and benefit if they listen to him.

Salsa delivers Happy boxes throughout the whole chapter, and gets shocked, even in the middle of the night, if something goes wrong with his job or tries to escape due to a shock collar implanted by Fassad. However, he runs into Kumatora and Wess, Duster's father, and they ploy together to free up Salsa and mess up Fassad's forceful takeover of Oshoe Castle, when Lucas shows up with several dragos in tow and fights against the Tank invasion of Oshoe Castle.

(A foreign animal being introduced into a new society with the express intent of exploiting it to propel forward a commercial enterprise by toil... geez, I dunno, where have I heard that one?)

From Chapter 4 Onwards the game adopts a more conventional JRPG scheme, through a timeskip which happens literally two years in the future. In this future version of Tazmilly, money (Dragon Points) and ATMs are now existent, similar to other Mother games. The game follows Lucas' adventure through a now-modernized and industrialized technologically advanced Tazmilly, trying to retrieve the "seven needles" from the island, which are soon enough shown to be a source of great power that the pigmask army is also after and to which Lucas must try to get to first due to a calling by mysterious beings which inhabit Nowhere Islands, the Magypsies. With a lot of emotional moments, such as Lucas having visions of his Mother in the middle of a field of Sunflowers, we follow the adventures of the party as they infiltrate the pigmask ranks and gather information about its nature and intentions.

It is then discovered that the pigmasks are commanded by a Masked leader, who dominates the power of thunder through a tower which was built in the middle of the town and which strikes anybody down with thunder if they overstep the Law and Order that the pigmasks have implemented. The party fights this masked leader in bouts while exploring the world and reuniting with a now missing Kumatora and Duster, who are found to have settled as employees in a Nightclub called "Club Titiboo".

Eventually, through his travels, Lucas gains an artifact from Mr. Saturn, the inhabitants of a special region in Nowhere called Saturn Valley and which has been passed down through all three Mother games, called the "Franklin Badge". When equipped, this item allows the bearer to become immune to lighting attacks and reflecting them back.

The party soon discovers that the world is inhabited by an special elder race, existant from before the creation of Tazmilly village and who know more about everything going on with the invasion, called the "Magypsies", a race of transexual, magical creatures who help Lucas discover the fact that he has Psychic abilities, also known as "PSI" within the MOTHER canon. He uses these to proceed further in his adventure to pull the seven Golden Needles, the first of which Fassad was attempting to get to, in the Courtyard of Oshoe Castle.

Lucas moves into a city called "New Pork City" in the conclusion of the game, which is a town built by the pigmasks completely in the honor of Porky, full of all sorts of Pigmask paraphernalia and amusement. It is found that the seventh and final needle is inside humongous tower in the middle of the city, the Porky tower.

Moreover, it is also revealed that the Pigmask army is led by Porky, known as "Pokey" in the American localization of Mother 2, Earthbound. Pokey is shown to have developed into a tyrant as an adult, with unlimited lust for blood and power, who used Doctor Andonuts' Phase Distorter after the events of Earthbound to mess around with the unlimited realities and dimensions it gave him access too, as a petulant child does with a video game. Once he got kicked out of every other possible reality due to the chaos he created, he found the Nowhere islands and decided to mess with it.

The climax of the game comes around Chapter 7, when the now fully-developed party runs into Leder, one of the original Tazmillian villagers, a lanky and really tall person who never spoke, not a single word, in the game until now. Leder is revealed to be the only person who knows what is the true nature of it all: tazmilly village is the remanider of civilization once the world of Mother 2 collapsed by cataclysm. A flood wiped away everything and the very last remainder of people who survived fled to nowhere islands in a big white ship and settled there, willingly forfeiting all technological advances and knowledge of the world into the Hummingbird egg, the artifact that Duster's family protected in Oshoe, a device which wiped everyone's memories, with the intent of undoing civilization and living back in a peaceful village-like state again.

It is revealed that when all seven needles are pulled, a supernatural power on which the island is built will be awakened. This supernatural power is revealed to be a Dragon by Leder, who had to be subdued by the ancestors of the Magypsies so people could live in Nowhere islands as their last resort. Whoever pulls out the needles which keep it in slumber will pass the intentions and nature of their heart onto the dragon. Thus, Lucas must be the one who pulls out the last needle instead of Porky or the masked man, in hopes that a second cataclysm like the first doesn't happen again.

After making their way through all the pigmask defenses, Lucas and Co. face off with Porky, who is now a bedridden, pathetic man. Doctor Andonuts from Mother 2, appears here, and is revealed to have developed a solution to contain Porky, the Absolutely Safe Capsule, which is a capsule which once it's sealed, it can never be opened again, trapping whoever is inside forever in a parallel universe where only them exist. The party is successful in locking Porky in the absolutely safe capsule, so, porky is not hurt by the end of mother 3, instead, he just has been locked away forever in a place far away from everyone else --perhaps, providing the ultimate form of comfort that a personality like his would seek after.

At the end of the game, Lucas and Co. face against the masked man, who is revealed to have been Claus all along, who, brainwashed with Pigmask ideologies, is hellbent on drawing out the final needle to awaken the dragon. Lucas and Claus face off in an emotive fight, where they suddenly remember each other and how friendly they used to be with each other... and moreover, their Mother. Claus strikes Lucas with thunder in a final murderous attempt before snapping out of the Pigmask brainwashing. But since he had the Franklin badge on, the attack is reflected and mortally strikes Claus, who, in his final moments, finally remembers Lucas...

The ending of the game is open ended, without showing much of what happened once the seventh dragon needle was released, so the ending of the game is subject to interpretation. However, it is heavily implied that, since Lucas was the one who released the needle, the dragon, once awakened, did not destroy Nowhere islands and instead led to a regeneration of existence.

Part 3. "A Musical-Adventure"

One of the pre-release materials for the game called it a "Musical" adventure, and I think this is completely warranted: the musical beautifulness of Hip Tanaka, famed Nintendo composer and long-time MOTHER music autheur, is joined by the expertise of Shogo Sakai, who gave the soundtrack a more mature, sample-based vibe, compared to the early two more "chiptuney" soundtracks in the series. The songs are all-time favorites of mine, and I still the soundtrack every so often given all of its mystique, its eclectiness and curiosness.

But the musical aspect to the game doesn't stop here: as an addition to the mother series, the battle system has now been changed to become rhythm-game based instead of simply turn based. If the player attacks an enemy during a battle, it is possible to strike additional damage as long as the player continues to press the attack button in rhythm to the background music in upwards of 16 hits. A full combo is incredibly effective and plays a nice fanfare if executed correctly.

As an enthusiast of rhythm games, this premise captivated me from the get-go and it works wonders, functioning as a breath of fresh air to the way overplayed mechanic of turn-based combat, which has existed since the 80s. It also provides a certain nice feeling to combat, given how every character has their personal musical instrument, with lucas being a guitar, Kumatora being an electric guitar, Duster being a bass, and Boney, Lucas' pet, being... barks.

Besides this the mechanics from Mother 2 are translated almost completely: every character has a rolling HP and PP counter, which rolls down over time as an airport display instead of immediately as in other RPGs. This may seem minor, but it adds an amazing element of strategy to the game, since it is possible to recover an ally from mortal damage if a healing PSI is executed against the clock before the counter hits 0.

Besides this you got almost completely conventional standard JRPG fare, with the character being able to move in eight directions in the overworld, with the addition of a run button, preemptive attacks and overpowered kills. Once you start facing enemies in the overworld, the first one to attack can be decided depending on the angle that the enemy was approached with: sneak up on an enemy from behind and a green swirl will display, which means that you get to attack first; if an enemy sneaks behind you, you'll see a red swirl and they will attack first instead. Otherwise, a gray swirl will display, which follows conventional order according to your stats.

Part 4. "WE WANT MOTHER 3, REGGIE!"

...Mother 3 will never be released in America.

This may be too dramatic of an opinion to have but I see no other alternative. For the most of fourteen years, Nintendo of America's head honcho Reggie Fils-Aime was requested to release and distribute the game in the americas, and for twenty years the request fell on deaf ears, citing commercial inviability, potential copyright infringment and many other reasons.

But I think the main reason that the game will never be localized is because Mother 3 was a passion project, pushed for by people with personal involvement in the series and very special sensitivities about it. Shigesato Itoi and Iwata were personal friends. The game appeals to japanese tastes and touches on issues and subjects that the American population is very politically sensitive to.

For example, in chapter 6 Lucas and the party experience a bad trip because they eat hallucinogenic mushrooms in a swamp. This leads to Lucas having visions of his family in a very bad light, with implications of violence and abuse, to try to get at the players' deepest sensitivities. Even the name of the real player is used here.

I think that it's impossible that nintendo will release a game which openly involves Hallucinogenics no matter its innocent exterior. This is the kind of subject in media that Japanese audiences usually handle better than American audiences.

Besides this, the game has very clear allusions to accelerated capitalism, anti-capitalism, colonization, slavery, transexuality and the changes and chaos they have brought onto the world, which is a tough subject to tackle in the Americas, which is still part of an ongoing, vicious culture war.

Particularly, I adore how the game even tries to convey its points through the Sound Test, of all places. Mother 3 has a collection of music pieces, which are available on demand within the game itself. Of those, there's a music piece which is a remix of Pollyanna, the Mother 1 theme, which is present throughout the series, in an nod to the previous games in the series. The hallway where this plays is full with mother references and it expects the player to sit down and watch passively all the references in order.

But this is meta, amazingly enough. The hallway is located in the final section of the game, before facing Porky, who is presented as the effigy of vicious capitalism in the game. As if he left them in his palace just as collectibles, things to be purchased or acquired.

The name of the song which plays during this sequence? "His Majesty's Memories". Subtle.

Nintendo is a company which tries to keep its image clean and sterile, so it can be used broadly for a variety of projects, usually with family friendly intent behind --and even more so in the US.

However, Nintendo has a history of risky bets with Mature content, which has become even more glaring lately: you got Eternal Darkness, Astral Chain, Bayonetta, No More Heroes, the disappointing Metroid Other M... this together with the fact that most of their target audience is of age now, could, at least remotely, mean that, perhaps, Mother 3 releasing in some manner in the future, localized in English, could happen: however, this is not happening at least the way I see it.

Once the game was released, there were several different campaigns online to try to gather Nintendo's attention: a 10k signature strong petition was completed among several other things, and if this hasn't lead to results... I don't know what will.

Part 5. "No Crying Until the End"

Mother 3 is a beautiful, engrossing and captivating game which is hidden away under a cutesy exterior. Its complex themes and characters are evoking of deep human truths which call out to us and ask us to reflect on things and the way we're living. Of strong pedigree in its series and with a superb musical production behind it and a mastermind of writing, MOTHER 3 excels at what it sets out to do.

When the game released, the game had a "Catch Copy" written for it by itoi himself, which called the game "Strange, Funny and Heartrending", and I think this is a beautiful way to bring everything full circle. Itoi wrote on the Advertisement that if you wanted to cry because of Mother 3, you should save it until the end. And those three words are a fantastic way to close off this review: if you want a game that will provide you with bizarre and laugh out loud moments one second and tear-jerkers the next, Mother 3 is the game for you.

And the game is just so poignant... to this date not only do I think it's one of the most expressive and well done pixel-art based game, I still find myself impresse at how much I can connect with the characters through small, cutesy sprites and pastel color pallettes, lack of Unreal engine and RTX graphics card be damned. Themes of grief, missing a loved one who's gone, the feeling of loss of identity due to accelerating social and economical change, how tyrannical political figures establish themselves and change communities, sexual and identity politics and how the modern world was to have shaky and voraginous sexual identities become commonplace... it's all there, and masterfully, tastefully expressed, without that icky feeling of "agenda"ism that you can get sometimes from Hollywood productions when they try to hamfist tropes and "messages" down people's throats. You know that feeling? I hate it when it happens in movies or shows I'm watching just to have a good time, and then I get some succint propaganda.

But MOTHER 3 is a kind beast, trying to reach to your heart and directly speak to the mind of the player. It tries to show us what it thinks of modernity and to make us seriously ponder what the frick is up with all of this shit, and thinking it has kept me for the last 14 years, and I anticipate another 20 ahead of me. And you can join me in reflecting about this...

Or maybe you can just go back to your happy box. Whichever way you choose.

[daquanfromthetrap]

Sebastian Michaelis x Reader Ch. 5

Sebastian stared at you, expecting an elaboration of the very vague answer you had just gave him. However, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and left it at just that. An abomination. You thought to yourself, brushing passed a suspecting Sebastian. He huffed at your silence, seeming to accept the answer you had just given him. For now. There’s no reason he should know father’s and mine’s secrets. How can we know that they are trustworthy? He is a demon after all, and his master’s primary goal is still unknown. I cannot risk Father’s safety.

“Come now, milady. The young master must be waiting for us at the inn by now.” Sebastian sighed still unsatisfied with your answer. What a strange woman. I must say, it does intrigue me even more. I still don’t sense a threat from her but I would like to know who exactly she is.

You and Sebastian continued your walk back to the inn in an awkward silence. The tension between you was heavy but neither of you dare spoke. You could feel Sebastian’s red eyes watching you from behind. You were glad to look up and see the familiar entrance of the inn with the young lord impatiently tapping his foot outside, waiting for the two of you to get back. You chuckled at the sight. In this moment, Ciel Phantomhive did not look like a brooding Earl of a large estate and the Queen’s Watchdog. He looked like a regular boy, impatiently waiting for something. It truly was a sight to behold, that was until a velvety voice cut the silence. 

“My, my, Young Master, did we have you waiting for long?” Sebastian stifled a laugh, obviously enjoying the look of irritation plastered on the boy’s face.

Ciel huffed, “What took you two so damn long?! I was waiting here for hours!!”

You bowed your head, trying to mask your amusement in the young lord’s tantrum. “Apologies, my Lord. There was a bit of a mix up at the market.”

Although still quite obviously irritated, Ciel softened his voice a bit in response to your apology. “Well, don’t let it happen again. I hate to be left waiting.” He then turned to Sebastian, “And what took you so long?!” 

Sebastian smiled, placing his hand on his heart to feign innocence, “Why I was only worried about how Lady (Y/N) was getting along in her investigation.” You furrowed your brow, looking at Sebastian in the corner of your eyes to see where exactly he was going to take this. “It’s a good thing I came too. A strange man had her in a dark alleyway all by herself. I had to run him off before anything escalated.” He finished off his story, shooting you a look. 

You rolled your eyes, turning to the questioned look of the earl. “Now, now, Sebastian, everything was going on well before you came along. That boy thought he was saving me from a rude shopkeeper. He actually would’ve been great to question but somebody’s butler decided to butt in.” You added a fake sweetness to your tone and shot back the same fake smile Sebastian had plastered on his face. 

Ciel looked between the two of you with a raised brow before sighing in defeat, “Well, did either of you at least find anything interesting?” 

Sebastian and you shared a look before shaking your head in unison.

Ciel groaned at the lack of information from his “parents”. “Ugh, well lucky for us, I found something rather interesting. Some children I found playing in the streets were talking about somebody they call ‘Granny’.”You and Sebastian nodded as you listened to Ciel continue on. “Apparently this ‘Granny’ will visit children each night, asking them about the kinds of treats they love and if their parents give them those treats. Granny will then come back the next night with your favorite treats and offer you a chance to get more treats in her cottage. As many treats as you would like. If they decline the offer, they are given their treats and told to go back to bed.”

“And what happens if they accept?” You questioned.

Ciel shrugged. “According to the children, Granny takes you away to her cottage and you could eat all the sweets and treats you’d ever like.” 

“Well that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.” you say sarcastically.

“Hmmm. It seems like a trick question. Why, if you say ‘no’ you get rewarded with a treat. But If you say ‘yes’, you are still rewarded but with a significant amount more than if you were to answer ‘no’.” Sebastian thought aloud, stroking his chin.

You nodded in agreement. “Why would you want just one treat when you can have as much as you’d like? Of course, children will lie a bit to get what they want. Especially if they don’t know the consequences then and there.”

“And who wouldn’t trust a grandmotherly old woman?” Ciel added. “Yes, this ‘Granny’ may be who we are looking for after all.” 

-----------------time skip to night fall--------------------------------------------------

Exhausted from the day out, you were glad to be able to wash the day away and slip into your night gown. You heard a knock at the door. You smirked, knowing exactly who could be knocking on your door at this hour. 

“Enter.” you answered, mindlessly brushing your wet hair, turning to speak to your visitor. “You know Sebastian, you shouldn-” you cut yourself off, surprised to see who stood in front of you. Instead of the man you were expecting it to be, it was the man you had met earlier in the market place. Henry. You remembered. 

It seemed that he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. A blush crept up on his cheeks as he was trying to find the words to speak to you. You broke the silence first. 

Time to play up the charm. What a bother, I just wanted to go straight to bed. Maybe irritate Sebastian a bit if he came for a visit. You thought to yourself. “Why, Henry!! It’s marvelous to see you again! And so soon!” You gave him a warm smile. “But if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly are you doing here?” 

Henry laughed a bit in response, obviously still at a lost for words. “Well me mum and dad run this inn, you see. I come in from time to time and offer my assistance. I was actually told to bring more linens to this room but I had no idea you were in here (Y/N).” He said with a boyish grin. He looked around the room a bit, “By the way, where’s that big scary husband of yours? He didn’t leave you all alone here did he?” 

Shit. It wouldn’t look right if Sebastian and I had separate rooms as a married couple. “Oh, I’m actually not too sure. I do believe he might still be putting our son to bed. To be honest, I thought you were him when you knocked.” you chuckled. 

Henry raised a brow, a playful grin playing at his lips. “Well, it wouldn’t be good for business if I were to leave a guest lonely and unsatisfied, now would it?” He was saying as he made his way to the bed and placed the fresh linens on it, while taking a seat himself. He really emphasized the words “lonely and unsatisfied”, making a point to stare into your eyes.

You laughed. Cheeky bastard. “I can assure you there is no need for that Henry. I do thank you for your hospitality, however, my husband should be returning very soon. I don’t know how he would react with a strange man in the room alone with me... sitting on the bed.” You shot him a playful smirk, amused at his shamelessness. 

Henry held his chest, feigning an injury to his heart, “Strange man?! Is that anyway to speak to your host and savior from earlier? I just wanted to make sure our guests are well taken care of.” 

You rolled your eyes in response. This man is quite amusing and charming. He must be very popular with women. You could say he has a ‘demon’s tongue’ by the way he can so easily charm you. You thought to yourself a bit before looking back up at Henry. “Actually, there is something you can help me out with if you don’t mind.” 

Henry sat up, eagerly waiting for your request. Wow he’s characteristically similar to a dog. Before you could even ask him about any strange happenings that he may know of, you heard a familiar voice slice through the air. “What can he help you with, that I can’t already do for you?” 

You and Henry both turned to see Sebastian, standing at the door, glaring at Henry. Henry shot up from the bed, making a point to pick up the fresh linens and set them on the bed again. You wanted to laugh at the scene unfolding before you, but you decided it was in everyone’s best interest (especially Henry’s) that you didn’t. “Now, now Sebastian, that’s no way to speak to our host. It was purely by luck that we ran into each other again. Isn’t it wonderful?” Your last sentence was meant to add fuel to the fire. You liked this game. Sebastian was definitely an interesting game piece.

Sebastian looked at you with that devilish glow in his eyes before turning back to Henry with his signature fake smile. “Ah yes Harry isn’t it? (Y/N) told me all about that fiasco you saved her from earlier today. I must express my gratitude to you for assisting my darling wife.” Ugh why am I feeling this way again? He’s nothing but a human pest. Sebastian questioned himself. It must be this girl, casting some type of spell. Sebastian concluded that you were a sorceress of some sort, since that was the only thing that could make any sense to him. After all, he only had feelings of incredible hostility towards Henry when he was with you.

“It’s actually Henry. And it’s a pleasure to see you again, Steven.” Henry bowed a bit still upholding his duties as our host.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, “Hmph, my name is Sebastian.” 

Henry completely ignored Sebastian’s comment before continuing, “My family runs this inn here, you see. I was told to bring in some fresh linens for our guests and it was just my luck to run into this pretty lady again.” He finished turning to you with a warm smile. 

You returned the smile, eyeing Sebastian in the corner of your eye. You could visibly see him getting increasingly irritated by Henry’s presence in the room.

Ugh the testosterone in this room is quite suffocating. You rolled your eyes at the display of passive aggressive challenging between the man and demon before you. I have to admit that this is quite entertaining, but with Sebastian here, Henry might not be able to speak as freely as he would like to. I have to speak with Henry alone. 

Sebastian glided to you in a few steps, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Well darling, what was it you needed help with? Surely we can stop bothering this man as he has many other guests to attend to.”

You let out a breathy laugh, a mischievous idea to poke fun at Sebastian popping into your head, “Well, actually,  I’m glad that both of you are here now... Why have one, when I can have two at the same time?” you paused looking at the puzzled look on Henry’s face, a deep red blush blooming onto his face, and the glare coming from Sebastian. Sebastian squeezed your shoulder a bit, almost as a warning. You placed your hand on his and squeezed back before swiftly brushing it off your shoulder. 

You innocently elaborated with, “We don’t have many friends and I love having guests. It’s like our own little after dinner party isn’t it?”

Henry cleared his throat, pushing away any thoughts your previous comments may have ignited. “Well, either way, I’ll be happy to assist you again Miss (Y/N). With anything.” Henry winked at you. 

This cheeky brat. What game is Lady (Y/N) playing at by entertaining this fool. Sebastian huffed to himself, his demon eyes having a low glow in irritation. He sighed grinning to himself. He then bent down and scooped you up, carrying you over to the bed, all the while speaking to Henry without looking at him. “Well, Harry, it is getting to be quite late. It’s about time I put (Y/N) to bed. Although...” He paused a bit, gently placing you onto the bed and placing himself at the edge but still leaning over you territorially. He began unbuttoning his shirt and looked back up at Henry who was now standing at the door, “She won’t be getting much sleep tonight...” Sebastian smirked, placing his gloved hand on your thigh. “You can see yourself out, sir.” 

Your eyes widened at Sebastian’s wickedness, turning your head to see Henry’s reaction. His face was red again, but this time he stared at the floor looking disappointed. He cleared his throat, “Goodnight Miss (Y/N). Sleep well.”

“Oh, she will.” Sebastian answered, earning a glare from Henry as he slammed the door shut. 

Poor boy. You thought, noting the look on Henry’s face at Sebastian’s actions and words. He shouldn’t look so disappointed. I am “married” with a “child” after all. You were too busy thinking to yourself to even notice that Sebastian had climbed on top you, placing his hands on either side of your head. You were met by demon eyes, glowing dangerously bright. 

“Jealously is a strange look on you Sebastian.” you said coyly. 

Sebastian laughed, “Jealousy is not a feeling typically known by demons. However...” he leaned down to where his lips brushed against your ear, “I do know what feels good.” 

You raised a brow, “I’m sure you do.”

Placing a hand on Sebastian’s chest, you gently push him off you so you could sit up. This simple gesture seemed to surprise him a bit as you watched his widened eyes return to their usual red color. He sat in front of you, staring at you suspiciously. 

“You should stay in here tonight.” you stated. Sebastian snapped his neck to look at you again with a surprised look that soon turned into a devious smile. 

You laughed at his reaction, bringing your hand up to gently poke the middle of his forehead. This earned yet another bewildered look from the demon in front of you. “I mean, you should stay here tonight because it will look suspicious if we are sleeping in different rooms when we are supposed to be a married couple.” 

Sebastian seemed to think for a bit before nodding in agreement to you. “You are correct. It will look a bit strange if we do not share a room as husband and wife. Especially with that cheeky fellow running around.” 

You nodded. “Well that settles it, you’ll stay in here tonight. Don’t worry about your master, he is in the next room and we can both hear if something happens.” You patted the spot next to you, “Why don’t you try to sleep? Demons use sleep for recreational purpose, don’t they?” 

“Milady, how did you kn-” 

“Ugh never mind that Sebastian. Unlike you, I actually need to sleep.” you cut him off, turning on your side to go to sleep. “Tomorrow, I will try to get any information I can by speaking with Henry... alone.”

“Bu-”

“It would be a great deal of help if you were not present, my dear husband. I don’t need to witness another masculinity match between the two of you.”

Sebastian was a bit taken aback by everything you just said and your casualness about it, but he just laughed, “As you wish, milady.” He answered before climbing over to the spot next to you, laying down on his back. 

You rolled over to face him, “And don’t you try anything funny while I’m asleep. I am a light sleeper and I will not hesitate to break your arms.” you huffed at him before rolling back over to fall asleep. 

Sebastian smiled at the back of your head, his heart thumping and a strange feeling creeping up Into his stomach. Ugh why am I feeling this way? I feel sick. But it’s also a nice feeling... I’ll have to ask the young master about it tomorrow. He sighed to himself before closing his eyes and drifting off into slumber. 

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

Hey guys!! I know this part is a bit short but hope you enjoy it!! Lemme know if you have any request or suggestions :)

[galadrieljones]

As You Were (Chapter 11)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Found Family, Joel Lives | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

Summary:

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret, filled with painful memories and reminders of the past. But they aren’t alone. When they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival on their family farm, things finally start to take a new shape, altering the course of their lives in irrevocable ways. In the end, for those with little hope to spare, family is what you make it.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second.

*chapter specific cw: mention of suicide, depression

Chapter 11: Interlude II (The Ark)

That night, they sat up in the crow's nest, on separate bean bags, looking at their hands. Noah had wanted to take inventory of his books to decide which he was going to bring with him on the road, and which he was going to leave behind. But it felt weird now that he was up there, and pointless, and sad. Everything he knew, he would have to leave behind, and he would never see it again. Everything. They would have to board up the house, post signs on the electric fence. CONTAMINATED WATER. DO NOT DRINK. They should probably burn it all down, but his mother would not allow that. It was her childhood home, too. They would seal it up instead as a tomb and maybe in 100 years when the spores died or the mushrooms got burnt out the river by somebody with the means to do so, an enterprising explorer would come to this lonely region, discover their farm and read it like hieroglyphics on the wall, stories from another time. He would look at Noah's stack of books and think, What a discovery. What a thing to behold.

Danielle sat very still, as was her default setting. But she was also picking at her thumbnail, compulsively. She was not wearing her prayer kapp anymore. She still had her hair braided tightly to her head, but she had taken off her kapp. Noah knew some things about Amish by then, and he knew the different types of kapps and bonnets and their meanings. Usually, when she was away from home she would wear a black bonnet over her white kapp, because she was unmarried. But she didn't have the black bonnet today, only the white kapp, and she had only ever removed her head covering in front of him one other time that Noah could remember, and it was when they were thirteen years old and it had been so hot, they ran through the sprinkler and she took off the kapp for just one moment while she fixed her braids.

"What's wrong?" said Noah. He was deciding between The Road and Blood Meridian. He chose The Road, stuffed it in his backpack.

"Nothing," said Danielle. She had followed him up there without him knowing. She was quiet as a mouse. When she appeared, he was surprised, but it was okay. He didn't feel like being alone.

"Why are you biting your nails."

"I was just having a bad thought," she said. "You know. How it's over. Our lives, as we knew them once, they are over. My mom, and your dad. The land we knew and that raised us. All of it, gone, and now we too must be gone."

The way she talked sometimes, with her formal words and slight accent, it was foreign to Noah in a mythical way. "Yeah," said Noah.

She got up then, from the bean bag chair. She looked around. She picked up some of the books to read the summary on the back, then she set them back down again.

"Anything you want, you can have," he said. "Take whatever."

"Like what would I take?"

"Any of my books. I have a lot of comics inside, too."

She found this to be funny for some reason, smiled with her cheeks getting red. "Ha ha."

"What's funny?"

"Where are your guitars?" she said then, out of nowhere, like she was suddenly taken off guard. "I haven't been up here in a while. Where'd they go?"

"I burned them," said Noah, staring at her.

She gave him a long, disappointed look and shook her head. "All of them?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't have did that, Noah."

Sometimes, he felt legitimately like a crazy person, like an imposter. Perhaps he would have been better off on his own. "I know," he said.

She came and sat down beside him then. He had to move over to give her room. The bean bag chair crinkled beneath them and molded around their bodies. She turned to him. She looked right at him. She framed his face with her palms, touching them to his cheeks. Her hands were cold. "I'm eighteen now," she said.

"I know," said Noah. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

"Don't worry," she said. "I just, I have hope that my family and my life will find a new hope, do you?"

"I guess," said Noah.

"I'm going to miss you though," said Danielle. "So much. You can't know. You and your guitars. You gave me a good escape place, all my life, and you and your family were always so important to us."

"I'll miss you, too," he said, shrugging. He felt he had little left to give her. "I'm sorry about everything, Danielle. Everything sucks."

"It does," she continued. "But also, there is one thing that doesn't suck, which is I can make a choice, right now."

"Which choice?" said Noah.

She kissed him. It was simple and warm. She was like a shepherd, guiding him in. When they parted, she looked sad. This was not the first time they had kissed, but it had been a long time. A flood had come between them. It drowned much more than the hills.

"Why did you do that?" he said.

"Because I wanted to," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have asked first."

"It's okay," he said. He tucked one small, loose strand of yellow hair behind her ear. In truth, it had made him happy. For just one moment, it lifted him out of the dirt.

She looked out the window. She folded her hands in her lap demurely. She had freckles on her knuckles and her wrists. She smelled like clean laundry. Being close to her, it made him want more, but it would never happen, nor should it happen, and this he knew, so he put his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes.

"What was that song you played again, that one time?" said Danielle. "Like two years ago, when we were out here, and it was like, almost fall, just like this? I remember it was getting colder, but the frost still had not come. Take me over?”

"Take On Me," said Noah. "It was just some live version off one of my dad's records. MTV Unplugged or something."

"What's MTV Unplugged?"

"I don't know," said Noah. "Something from a million years ago. Joel probably knows. We could go inside and listen to it, if you want. You could ask him."

"Okay," she said, smiling. "Let's do that."

Inside, Cici had gone upstairs, to bed. Joel was sitting on the couch alone, drinking whiskey, and listening to more Ryan Adams on the record player. When Noah and Danielle first came inside, Noah was sort of embarrassed. He didn't know why. But Joel didn't make any sort of fuss about them. He didn't call attention, nor did he ask questions. He said hello to Danielle and told Noah he would get out of his hair.

"It's okay," said Noah. "We were just gonna listen to music anyway."

"What is this?" said Danielle. She had reassembled her kapp, on her head. She was only comfortable removing it around Noah. "This is a sad song."

"It's a song called Sylvia Plath," said Joel. "This album was released the day before my 17th birthday."

"Wow," said Danielle. "It must mean a lot to you."

"Well, I haven't heard it in a while," said Joel. "But hearing it again, now, yes it does bring me back."

"Do you know what MTV Unplugged is?" said Danielle.

Joel looked at Noah, who was looking down at his boots. He had his backpack over one shoulder, looking a little lost, a wanderer. Joel set down his whiskey, listening to the song. He said, "MTV Unplugged was on TV, a lot of years ago. Why you asking?"

"Noah knows a song. He played it once, on his guitar, from MTV Unplugged."

"His guitar?"

"Yes," said Danielle. She became embarrassed then, like she had done something wrong. She looked at Noah and then she looked down at her hands, folded into the front of her dress. Noah was looking off somewhere else, flexing his jaw. Something seemed to be going on, something that Joel wasn't privy to. Didn't matter.

"Well, okay," said Joel, ignoring the tension in the room. "You, uh, familiar with TV, Danielle?"

"Yes," said Danielle. "Noah has told me about it."

"Well, MTV Unplugged was just like, live studio recordings of musicians that were popular at the time. A live studio recording meant like, it was unproduced. Or, I don't know. They just played their instruments in a room, in front of people. No multiple takes, no effects or anything like that. Real stripped down. There were some pretty important recordings, back in those days. Some artists, it was a huge deal for them to get on MTV Unplugged."

"Thanks," said Danielle. "I suppose that makes sense?"

"Maybe," said Joel. “I don’t know what makes sense anymore.”

"You guys are up?" said Ellie. She was yawning, coming down the stairs in her PJs. "What the hell?"

"Don't worry," said Joel. "You didn't miss anything. And I was just about to head up myself."

"What are we listening to?" she said, totally ignoring him. She came into the living room and picked up the vinyl sleeve off the coffee table. "Ryan Adams. Gold. You sure like this guy, don't you, Joel?"

Joel sighed.

"Who's Sylvia Plath?"

"What am I, an encyclopedia?”

"Yes, actually," she said, plopping down on the couch next to him. She picked up his glass, sniffed it, and made a face. "Yuck."

"Sylvia Plath was a poet, right?" said Noah. "Didn't she kill herself?"

"She was a poet, yes," said Joel. "And yes, she did...commit suicide."

"Jesus," said Ellie, sinking into the cushions. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. "That's sad."

"Why did she take her own life?" said Danielle.

"I don't know," said Joel, resigned to his cause now, and outnumbered. "I guess she was unhappy. Or something. She had a rough marriage? Major depression. Ryan Adams, he had a lot of depression, too. Maybe he wrote this song to cope with all that."

"Music is a gift," said Danielle. "To think that his means of coping could become a song as beautiful as this. Perhaps it is a curse."

They all sat, staring at the record player. Joel got up and took the needle off the record. "Time for bed," he said.

"Come on," said Ellie. "I just got down here."

"Well, that was a mistake," said Joel. "Everybody, to bed. It's late."

With his sleeping bag unrolled in the living room that night, and the lamps turned down low, Noah listened to the song Sylvia Plath on repeat and thought about his life and all that had taken place, from the moment he realized he was alive, up to now, sitting alone on the floor in his living room in front of the fire, imagining himself in another scenario, far away in time and space, in which things were normal, or better, or safe. He envied Joel, in a way. Noah didn't know a better life, and he never would. That is how he felt, and what was meant by his sadness in the crow's nest. That is how he had been feeling for over a year, since his dad died, and the people he knew were all gone, and there were no more delusions, no more pastoral dreams where he could ignore the dying world in which he was born. He was now grown and he would have to go straight to it, make it his own. And Danielle would be okay, because she was not the same as him. She was bright and free and she trusted in god to carry her home, and whether that was bullshit or not, it didn't matter. People believe in the thing that they think will save them. Noah just didn't know what to believe. He was doing his best to follow his heart.

And she and I would sleep on a boat And swim in the sea without clothes With rain falling fast on the sea While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me Telling me it would all be okay Out on the horizon and fading away And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh

Ellie came back downstairs a couple minutes later, wired and unable to sleep. When he looked out the window, the moon had finally revealed itself from behind the clouds. It was big and white and full. At first Ellie just said hello and then she was walking around the room, looking at all the different things on the shelves and hanging on the walls, like she was in a museum. She was looking at the paintings, most of them unframed. She said, "Did your dad make these? They're all signed with a W. His name was William, right?"

"Yeah," said Noah. "His name was William, and yeah, he painted all those."

"Wow," said Ellie. "He was really good. These are amazing."

The paintings were mostly landscapes and livestock. There were some of Cici, some of Noah, but they were like, impressions. They were blurred into the background, just blinks of color against the green. "What's your last name?" said Noah. "I was just wondering."

"My last name?" said Ellie. She smiled. She said, "Uh, Williams, I guess. Weirdly enough. That's the second time someone's asked me that in the past like, day." She came and sat down on the floor next to him, resting her elbows on her knees. "What's yours?"

"Santos," said Noah.

"Noah Santos," said Ellie. She looked down at her thumbs. She was sticking them both up for some reason, pressing her knuckles together. "So, uh. What's up with you and Danielle, Noah Santos? You guys a thing or something?"

"Not really," said Noah. He looked directly at her. His eyes were kind of dark and big, but they weren't as dark up close as they looked from far away. "Not anymore. We're just friends.” He took a huge, deep breath then, and Ellie could tell there was a lot more but that he just didn't feel like talking about it.

"Well," she said. "Friends are pretty great, too."

"Yeah, they're okay," said Noah.

They both smiled.

"I had a friend once," she said. "A long time ago. Her name was Riley."

”How’d you guys meet?”

”School. Or, jail. Whatever you wanna call it.”

"Where's Riley now?" said Noah.

Ellie looked at the fire, big and bright, like a carousel. "It's a long story. But she's gone."

Noah hung his head and looked down at the woodgrain in the floor. He said, "I'm sorry. I'm a dick."

"It's okay," said Ellie, nodding to herself, trying to be peppy. She didn't want to be sad that night. She wanted to be positive, and alert. Joel and Noah were back. They were heading out soon, on the road again. There was hope. “You're not a dick. And it’s all gonna be okay, don’t you think?”

"I hope so," he said.

Ellie’s optimism was contagious, and perhaps that’s why she felt like home to so many who lie awake in the night, thinking more about the past than the future. She lived close to the edge of her worth, it's true. She wanted to believe that there was a reason, for all of this. That there was a purpose, a meaning, behind why she kept on living while all the other people she cared about died. Riley, Tess, Henry, Sam. But she hid volumes. She did it all to help her friends stay afloat. But it wouldn't last forever. She was only one girl.

When they drove away from the farm, they did not want. The wind shook the trees, which were turning colors in the late September light. Danielle waved at Noah, standing between her father and her brother on the lawn.

It was two trucks to Moline, Joel and Ellie out front, headed for the I-80. "Here goes nothing," said Cici. She was driving, stone-faced. It was done. They had lost this place long before. It belonged to the dead now. She took Noah's hand as they escaped.

***

On the record player:

“Sylvia Plath” by Ryan Adams

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Thank you for your kind words! i've been trying to think of more Valdo requests, cuz you write him wonderfully, & i have a cute one (i hope) maybe Valdo & plus size reader have been friends for a long time & she's totally in love & he writes all these beautiful songs about these women & she's jealous(inside) & somehow it comes to light that the songs are about her & there's love confessions (shocking i know haha!) cuz he's like "wait no it's always been you!" Thanks so much! I hope you're well!!

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Valdo x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 1,605 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Yess Valdo would be equally enthusiastic about lovers of all body shapes and sizes and you know we love a good Confession. Enjoy! xo

“Y/N!”

Your entire body lifted with your heart at the sound of Valdo’s voice speaking your name. You turned from where you’d been standing in the square and there he was. Curls somehow never mussed despite his long travels, not a single hair in his mustache or goatee out of place. The blazing, emerald eyes alight with excitement as he wove his way through the people and made his way to you. He scooped you up into a hug, nearly lifting you off of your feet, a reminder of how deceptively strong he was.

“Oh you are a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed when you both reluctantly pulled away.

“How Long are you in town this time?” you asked, trying to temper your excitement before you could be crushed by hearing that he would only be there for the night.

“I’m not sure,” he replied enigmatically, “It depends on how this latest song is received.”

You tried to keep your face from crumpling into disappointment. If that were the case you’d be lucky if he stayed overnight. His music was always incredibly well-received and you took his words to mean that the better it was lauded, the more quickly he’d want to spread it around to build word. You’d been friends for years and you’d watched him get his first instruments and create a name for himself around Cidaris. You knew that his success would take him away from you but you tried not to begrudge it. His happiness mattered the most to you and if that happiness was found elsewhere, who were you to be upset?

“Come on,” he said after a few beats of silence, “Buy an old friend a drink.”

“You’re the traveling celebrity, you’re buying,” you teased. He fell in step beside you and slung an arm around your waist. You stiffened slightly, not expecting that, and he removed his arm and wrapped up around your shoulders instead before you could protest that it was alright. Something was odd, even for Valdo, and it made you feel uneasy. You tried to shake it off and focus on the time you got together.

“So tell me of your journeys,” you asked, “New sights? New sounds? New, notable companions?”

You nearly bite your tongue at the last question, trying to sound like you were casually curious as a friend and not desperately pining for him, praying that he’d say he’d seen no one though you knew that was very unlikely. Valdo was quite popular and though you’d never had the pleasure you had extrapolated a great deal from watching him playing, thinking of the things those nimble fingers could do as well as the soft, full lips. He had a wickedness about him that told you that he’d be up for anything and that he could inspire the same level of open-mindedness in all of his partners. Gods knew you couldn’t think of a single thing you wouldn’t open for the man in front of you. He looked at you oddly and you worried for a second that you’d said that out loud but he shook his head.

“Plenty of sights, though none as sweet as your face. Plenty of sounds, though none as compelling as my voice. No companions,” he answered. You schooled your face to stay impassive as he said this though your heart sang. It was a temporary balm, you knew. Soon there would be another. As though he’d read your mind again he pulled out his journal where you knew he wrote his lyrics. You knew where this was going. All through your friendship growing up he’d read to you lyrics of his latest “muse” and you’d been forced to listen and sigh and pretend you weren’t envious of whoever could stir him to create.

“Is that the song that’ll decide your fate?” you asked, gesturing to the journal.

“It is,” he replied. There was a strange energy about him. A nervousness that was rare to behold in the usually very confident, if somewhat smug, troubadour. “It’s a ballad but I need help writing the ending.”

“Oh?” you asked, more surprises every second. Though he happily showed you the results of his work he rarely let you in on the process, insisting that he needed to be alone with his thoughts to truly decipher what his muse had inspired. You thought it sounded like pretentious horseshit but you left him with his methods, his success speaking for itself.

“It’s the story of a couple who met as youths. He, a stalwart, handsome, ambitious lad and she a witty, kind, breathtakingly gorgeous woman,” he explained.

“Hmm yes, they always are aren’t they?” you muttered under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, go on.”

“Well the pair grow very close, so close that all who see them think that they’re in love but the tragic truth is that the man pines alone, uncertain if his long-held affections are returned,” Valdo continued.

“I do love a good yearn,” you admitted.

“Yes, and now, after years of roaming and parting and returning and nearly confessing and losing the courage he decides that he must confess his love or go mad!”

“A logical solution,” you said with a little nod of your head, “It seems the conclusion is clear.”

“Ah yes but where I need your help is in discovering her answer,” he said, eyes staring at you with a strange intensity. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well I don’t know, Valdo, does she love him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N… does she?” he asked the words meaningfully giving you an equally pointed look and you felt like you were being read a riddle that everyone else knew but you were oblivious to.

“You’d probably need to ask her?” you offered.

“I… am…?” Valdo’s voice grew uncertain and the pair of you gave each other equally puzzled looks.

“Valdo I promise I’m not trying to be daft but… it almost sounds like you’re saying I’m the woman in the story and that’s ridiculous so what is it you’re asking here? If you should talk to the woman in your song? Sure, go for it, why wouldn’t you?” you exclaimed, growing frustrated. Valdo blinked a few times, visibly flustered and taken aback.

“Y/N you are the woman in the song!”

“What?” you cried, choking on your ale.

“Of course! This song and every other I’ve ever written. It’s always been how, could you truly not know?” he asked incredulously. You gaped at him and thought back to the songs he’d written, trying to find a scrap of lyric that proved it couldn’t be you. You were used to hearing songs where you were written out by the casual mention of a slender frame or lithe body. Whenever a bard sang about lifting his lady into his arms the dream was dashed and you could not longer project yourself into it. It had been a bit lonely and sad, never hearing a heroine whose petite shoes you could walk in, but as you thought back through Valdo’s you realized that was never the case. He never spoke of his lover in diminutive terms. He talked about her beauty and her softness and her genius. Valdo could see you thinking, considering his words with confusion but no longer arguing which he took as encouragement.

“Y/N if I’ve not spoken plainly, know it wasn’t out of any embarrassment or lack of feeling, rather the opposite. I felt so deeply and strongly that I feared the loss of you if I spoke up. But not trying and leaving you is much more painful than knowing and salvaging the friendship. So I come to you, Y/N, without pretense or lyrical camouflage, and I ask you – what does the heroine of this song, the song that joins the lifelong operetta of my heart, answer?”

“Well she… she would be a little taken aback, because she spent her whole life thinking that every song was about some new muse, getting more and more jealous with every one but also hoping that her friend who she loved was happy. And then she’d be afraid that it was a dream because everything he was saying is everything she’s been longing for him to say and she’s learned that women who look like her don’t get a love worthy of song. But she’d want it to be true so badly she’d nearly be willing to just say fuck it and let her heart break upon waking, just for the joy of feeling loved by him for just that once,” you answered, a lifetime of feeling poured out in a rambling series of sentences that you feared were only somewhat understandable and barely coherent but Valdo caught the meaning and crossed over the table to get to you, nearly knocking over your ale in the process but you couldn’t care less.

“Then the song shall end with the man assuring her that it is very much real and that he never wants to be parted from her again, whether that means she travels with him or he stays with her he cares not. Because at the end of the day where she goes, he must follow, for only with her does he experience true, unfettered, blissful happiness,” he replied, green eyes scanning your face as if seeing it for the first time and trying to capture the moment forever.

“I think the song should end another way,” you argued.

“Oh?” he asked, “How?”

You answered him with a kiss that he could never translate into words but would spend the rest of his life trying to describe anyway.

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Two: Homecoming

Masterlist is being made and will be available soon!

Chapter Two: Homecoming

Note: A warm welcome back to everyone who's returning for book two! It was great to talk to so many of you again! If you're a new reader, I recommend that you read Soliloquy first so that you have the proper context for this story, but either way, welcome! Nice to meet you! I hope to say hi sometime in the comments! Now on to chapter two!

-~-

In the seven weeks since the Redgrave City calamity, the local news stations had struck a collective balance between bated silence, unintentional misinformation, and useless conjecture. No one in the general public really knew anything meaningful about the events that had taken place in that forsaken city except for a handful of ground zero survivors, and most of them had stayed surprisingly tight lipped about the ordeal as a whole, knowing little about the events that took place after they had fled to safety. A few had come forward to thank the mysterious white haired vigilante in the black coat that had been rumored to have stalked the streets at all hours during the month long siege in what seemed to be an attempt to help stem the tide of demonic activity, but reports were conflicted to say the least. Most couldn't decide if he -or she- possessed black or white hair, some were unsure as to if they had been working with or against the demons as they claimed that they had commanded several themselves, and several others claimed to have been saved from attacking demons by them and told to flee town while they still could. A few even speculated that perhaps this individual could be a demon themselves, though they all seemed to come to the conclusion that they didn't care all that much and they were simply happy to be alive and eternally grateful to whoever the person had been that had saved their lives. 

Graffiti on abandoned city walls told horrifying stories of desperation and fear, while some even depicted what some had thought to be their savior in an indirect attempt to thank them. But the vast majority of the outside world would never see these works of art in person. The entire city aside from the very outskirts on the north side had been claimed by the government and a perimeter was in the process of being erected. They wanted to study it and try to figure out a concrete answer as to what had led to this horrible tragedy so that they could try to combat it effectively in the future, but it was slow work. They had started on the east and west sides of the city to try and keep neighboring municipalities and their citizens from meddling in what they considered "government affairs", and a considerably weaker foot perimeter had been established at the southern end of the area, leaving the northern side relatively accessible to prying eyes. They were apparently stretched quite thin at the moment and simply didn't have the resources and manpower to do anything more.

And that was good news for Nico and Nero since they had work to do.

Nero craned his neck to the side as he stared blankly at Nico, unsure as to what to say about the scene unfolding in front of him. Sitting along the side of the van were three medium sized moving boxes that were practically overflowing with old books. Most of them were covered in dust and slightly worn from the elements, but probably still readable while others looked to be in need of serious repairs. Some looked just fine. But the question was why were they here?

"Nico… Since when do you read? What the hell is with all these books?" Nero said as he examined one of the boxes of books disinterestedly, shaking his head at the sheer number of books. There were at least two large bookcases worth of them. This seemed beyond excessive to him.

She plopped down the box that she was in the process of loading into the van, allowing it to come to rest on the couch. A loud groan escaped her lips as she turned to step down the step that led to the pavement. She knew that old books were heavy, but these ones had to weigh more than she did! Her back was going to pay dearly for her generosity.

"Oh shut your trap! You know good and well I'm not reading any of these old things," She says as she held up one of the books for emphasis," I'm doing V a favor. He said he'd owe me one if I brought back as many of these as I could find that were still in one piece."

Nero did a slight doubletake, his brow furrowing in a mixture or surprise and confusion. While that made perfect sense, he had to admit that this was news to him. He'd never seen Nico accept an "I owe you" before. Cash was almost always a prerequisite to service when it came to her valuable time and effort. But she'd made an exception for V?

"Your doing him a favor? That's… well, that's nice of you, I guess." Nero said as he shrugged and reached for a nearby box. He knew that she wasn't going to let him help her with the ones she was already carrying. And besides, she'd managed the first one just fine without his help. But tossing the last two boxes in the van for her wasn't going to hurt anyone. Well, accept maybe their backs. How the hell was V going to pick these up anyway? One at a time?

The young mechanic put the box down next to the previous one and shrugged, not really sure what he expected her to say about it. "Yea, well he gave me some pretty rare stuff a while back that I used to make a pretty sick devil breaker, so I kinda owe him. It's whatever. Just a couple books. No bige."

Nero took a moment to consider what she'd said. He recalled a time in Redgrave City right after they had rescued Lady when V had found his way to the van with a chunk of some sort of glowing rock. Nico had seemed pretty excited about that at the time. Was that what she was talking about? Better yet, why did he care so much? Their dealings were none of his business and there probably wasn't anything more to them than V wanting something else to read. He'd tapped out the few books laying around their place that weren't for little kids several days ago (and some of those too, although mostly for the sake of providing entertainment to the children. They enjoyed when he read to them.) and Vergil still had his book at Dante's office, so he was probably starving for mental stimulation. But most of these didn't really look like the types of books you just read for entertainment's sake. Besides the heavy damage they'd incurred due to being left out in the elements for so long, most were educational texts such as dictionaries, legal books, and encyclopedia sets. Who the hell would read a dictionary for fun?

Oh.

As they loaded the final boxes and Nico climbed back into the drivers seat of the van, he couldn't help himself from digging just a little bit further. Now part of him kinda found this funny. As he flopped down into the passenger's seat and put his feet up onto the dashboard, he decided he'd ask a final question and then drop the matter entirely. 

"Did he actually ask you for all these boring dictionaries and crap? I thought he was more into poetry." Nero said offhandedly. He'd heard his brother quote that damn book enough times to glean that from him. Despite popular belief, he wasn't clueless.

Nico shrugged again as she started the engine. "He just said he wanted "collections of books' '. Most of them just happened to be boring shit. Now stop playin' twenty questions with me before I tell him you read his damn book so he can quiz you to death on it!"

He wasn't sure if he actually did it, but he could almost swear that he visibly paled at the statement. That was the last thing he needed. After V had "died" and the rest of his family had swan dived into hell, the book had been left in his care. What had at first been just a few curious glances had somehow turned into him reading the entire book cover to cover despite the fact that he didn't really understand a lot of the concepts covered in the texts. It was all a bit philosophical for him. While he'd done plenty of reading in his lifetime, none of it had been on this kind of subject matter. The only thing it had really impressed upon him was the fact that V was pretty damn smart for his age. After all, they couldn't have been born that far apart. 

And yet, Nero had actually enjoyed reading it. The context behind a lot of the quotes V had rattled off made a lot more sense to him now and they helped paint a picture of a person who was solemn and mournful, but still personable and easy enough to get along with. If he had to describe V in a single word, he'd say he was just misunderstood. Despite being surrounded by people, he always seemed so lonely and out of place. But he'd never say any of this to his face. The last thing he was ready for was a deep conversation with V, though he got the feeling it was an inevitability.

As they drove through the ruined streets of Redgrave City on their way back home, a shared silence fell over them as they crossed the barrier into ground zero. An area twice the size of the colosseum that used to consist of family homes and businesses; parks and plazas. None of that remained now, the entire city block now leveled and covered from head to toe in a thick layer of white ash. Jagged chunks of earth that seemed to jut out of hell itself stuck up out of a massive ravine in the center. On the far side of the clearing were the remnants of the house that V had once pointed out to him, a place he was admittedly curious considering the fact that it was somehow still standing after everything that had happened to this place. What had been the significance of it?

It was a haunting sight to behold, and a terrifying reminder of what his family was capable of when they got carried away. He couldn't stop thinking about how easily something like this had almost happened to Fortuna just a few short years ago. So much death and destruction. It chilled him to his very core and he suddenly felt an intense desire to leave this place and not think about it any further, at least for a while.

As they passed through the far side of the clearing, Nico suddenly slammed on the breaks. Nero jolted forward and smacked his head on the dashboard, his ears ringing and head throbbing. While the impact wasn't hard enough to give him a concussion, it still hurt like hell and he couldn't help but become instantly pissed at the fact that it had happened.

"Nico, what the fuck is-" Nero started to take her to task for her awful driving, only to realize as he sat up that she was no longer in the van. A quick, somewhat panicked glance confirmed that she was standing a few yards away from the van, her back to him. From what he could tell, she seemed to be looking at something on the ground. Nero let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and frustration as he threw the seatbelt over his shoulder and headed over to meet up with Nico. He was curious to see what all the fuss was about. As much as his head hurt, it had better be good.

Before he could say anything, Nico gestured to the ground in front of her. She seemed to know that he was on the brink of scolding her for nearly breaking his neck on the dashboard of their ride, although she didn't seem concerned. She knew he was durable. As he approached, Nero was surprised to find a small patch of red glowing flowers in the middle of space before them. He'd seen them before in the train station, but this was a relatively uncommon occurrence. From what he could tell, they had just grown in since they hadn't been here during their last visit to the city. Apparently something about the Qliphoth pollion made the soil hospitable. At least that's what he was willing to guess. Maybe Magnolia could tell them? After all, she was a botanist. 

But as unusual as it was to see the demonic flowers just growing wildly out in the open, another sight caught his eye. More specifically, Nico gestured towards it in mild disbelief, a slightly wide eyed and giddy look on her face. Impaled smack dab in the middle of the small field of plants was a very familiar piece of shiny metal, a handful of vibrant blue feathers accompanying it. Somehow during everything that had happened at the top of the Qliphoth including it's violent destruction, V's cane had made its way down here and embedded itself in the ground. It was almost unbelievable. They had passed by here once before, but it had been dark out. How on earth had it managed to land in this exact spot so close to one of the only remaining roads? And why had this field of plants sprung up around it? The entire situation was nothing short of astonishing.

Nico shook her head and folded her arms, looking down at the scene unfolding before her. "Looks like I need to run some more tests on this damn thing! Guess I missed somethin' the last time. This is just weird. And what's up with these flowers? We're gonna need some samples of these things. Wonder if there's somethin' to em."

Nero nodded, agreeing in silent bewilderment. While it made perfect sense that it could survive a fall from the height that it did, he was amazed that it hadn't landed in the nearby bay or fallen into a casem somewhere. He wondered how V would react to seeing it again after all this time. More than likely, he'd be relieved considering how he'd used it to assist himself with walking up until the point where it had been lost during their final battle with Urizen. Well, Vergil. He needed to stop thinking about it. That whole situation was complicated and messy and sad and they would all get to it when the time came.

For now, they needed to find something to put these plants in. As supernatural as they seemed to be, they were practically screaming for a visit to Magnolia's shop. Nero was willing to bet that she could help them out with this. "Maybe… but we're never going to find out if we don't grab a couple. Oh, and if your awful driving gets us killed on the way back!" Nico shrugged nonchalantly as she headed back towards the car to grab the supplies they needed. "Quit cryin' you big baby, you're gonna be fine! Your heads made of thicker stuff than that, trust me. Now come grab a shovel and help me start diggin! I don't plan to still be in this damn place come dinner time."

Nero groaned and dragged himself over to the van. She made a valid point. Several valid points. V and the kids were definitely going to eat all the food if they didn't get back in time. And the last thing Nero felt like dealing with was being hungry and tired after having to fight off an entire city of demons if they were still here come nightfall.

-~-

It's great having you all back again for book two! Thanks so much for the ongoing support! I'll see you all again on Friday for chapter three. In the meantime, stay safe and have a great week! I hope it's not half as hot where you live as it is here!

[go-our-own-ways]

Feeling a million things for a one Yashiro Taku as of late... I don’t even know if I can put it all into words. It’s 2:30AM, I have a 10AM client tomorrow, and I am working pretty much solidly through until 7PM. I really don’t have the time even to write all my feelings out. 

But well...I’ll write them out anyway, ‘cause I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep otherwise lmfao 

I’ve been feeling kind of stressed and anxious and also kind of lonely and depressed the last couple of days, but I’ve been hanging in there... by listening to old Murashiro radio episodes, and listening to or watching other miscellaneous Taku-related content... which has resulted in a massive influx of feels, haha. 

I guess it’s to be expected, though... It’s probably been a little under a year since my last massive Taku phase. I kind of rotate through my top three every few months, but for a long time I just was never really in the mood for Taku content, so I had started to wonder if I’d maybe finally ended my Taku phase...

Well, never fear @ self LOL I guess I will never get over him (thank god) lmaooo 

I think at this point I’ve come to realize/understand the things that keep me coming back to the same three seiyuu over and over again; they each offer something different, but each of those things are either important to me or things I admire/wish I had in myself, hence why I end up following three instead of sticking with one. 

With Taku, his positivity and earnestness have always stood out to me. Of course, his visual specs are incredibly high, and I’ve always found his smile to be as clear and bright as the shining sun on a cool autumn day... But when it comes to his skills as a modern-day seiyuu, watching him at events and listening to him during radios, it’s clear how much of a forward-facing, positive person he is, and how much he applies that to his work. He’s always striving to be better, to learn more, to perfect his craft, and after all these years, it really, really shows. His earnestness too is a strong point I’ve come to notice and appreciate over the years, and it goes hand in hand with his positivity, combining forces to become his strength. One could also say he’s tenacious and patient, always biding his time, quietly studying his peers and absorbing his surroundings when no one’s looking, so that he can become the best version of himself. 

Naturally (as a voice actor), he’s always had a lovely voice, and his voice acting skills have always been decent, but over the years his acting really and truly has improved. His voice has always felt warm to me...something that vibrates comfortably inside of my soul and warms me from the inside out, but also carries a kind of brightness and lightness to it...almost like a top layer? I don’t really know how to explain it, but it’s just a voice pitch and combination of tones that I absolutely love. In the end though, as much as I love his voice, the thing that always ends up standing out the most for me when it comes to Taku has always been his character and personality, particularly the way he connects with his peers, his colleagues, his characters, his works, and his fans. It’s the warmth of heart, the earnestness that he puts into every aspect of his work that really makes him shine for me, and I really appreciate the warmth I always feel from whatever he does. 

Probably the main things that stand out to me now in terms of like...concrete technical skills are of course his voice work, but also his conversational skills. Listening to his radio programs, or watching/listening to when he guests on other programs, or when he’s hosting events, it’s plain as day how much he’s grown and evolved. Really, his many, many years of working in the radio industry with bayFM have truly paid off. He’s become such a good listener and such a good reader of the room, and he always has good things to say, be it serious, full of warmth, or lighthearted and comical. I think this aspect of his technical skill has probably been what’s grown the most, and I’d like to think is perhaps something that has also become a part of who he is as a person. But, that last bit is perhaps just my own wishful thinking, haha. 

In terms of his actual voice work, he’s really improved and polished his craft. He freely and flexibly uses an impressively wide range of tones and voices now. The depth of emotion he can convey with his acting has gotten better, too. He’s not typecast into the same sort of roles all of the time anymore, which is also always a good sign, and he’s consistently been getting into series that are either quite popular or are long, on-going franchises. Even if they’re not for the main character, the fact that he’s in them and always returning is a good sign. Then there’s his skill with character songs... He’s gotten really, really good at them. Every character he has, he manages to sound just different enough that you can identify the character and feel the difference in personality and tone. Before, perhaps due in part to often getting typecast into similar characters, so it perhaps felt harder to feel the difference, but these days, his range has become quite impressive, even when it comes to his singing. It’s awesome, honestly, to hear the wide range of voices he can use now. 

Back in January, he proclaimed on a show he was guesting on that his wish for 2020 was that he would be striving to become his final form, or the best version of himself, so to speak. I really and truly think he’s taking that to heart and hit the ground running in 2020. It’s been a spectacular year when I look back at all that he’s done and continues to do this year, despite the setbacks the pandemic may have caused. Naturally, the previous couple of years were also insane for him (what with everything that led up to the photobook and all lol), but it seems this year he’s finally been able to make huge strides in his actual line of work, which has been fulfilling to witness, as a fan. 

For many, many long years now I’ve felt kind of bad that it seemed I only liked seiyuu with pretty faces... But of my most recent and longest-running (4-5 years now) trio of favorites, Enokiya proved himself to be full of acting talent (and not to mention also full of passion for the technical skill and art of acting) the last few years, and continues to impress and climb ever higher. Shugon has always been something to behold when it came to music, and then finally at long last he had his artist debut. And so that left Taku... who I really wondered if I really did only like because of his face. Those couple of years (2017~2019), there was so much focus on how much of an “ikemen” he is, that I doubted myself. I knew deep in my heart I ultimately liked his personality and his natural speaking voice first and his acting second, but even still it got hard trying to defend myself when he’s so handsome, haha... Granted, it shouldn’t matter what other people think, but it feels nice to see more and more tangible growth now on the actual seiyuu side of things that I can share with others in a way that doesn’t have to take away from his credibility as a seiyuu. (’: 

That all being said, I still appreciate a handsome face, suave moves on stage, and cute antics, and I know there ain’t no shame in that. Taku’s still the number one little devil who can totally murder me at moment’s notice whenever he’s on stage, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just check out his live performances when it comes to SideM and B-PROJECT... you’ll get what I mean. (; 

[iamalivenow]

“Well.” The man takes his glasses off of his nose and slides them into his front shirt pocket. “Nice to finally meet you.” Martin blinks, more shocked than anything, when Peter exists in front of him- between him and the man. “And you are? The secretary didn't call ahead.” “Rude of her.” The man looks between Peter and Martin as best he can. Peter's certainly not making it easy for him. “You gossip about me so much, and you don't even know my name? I'd feel hurt, but.” He's thin, hair graying at the roots, biggest circles under his eyes that Martin's ever seen. “Extinction.” He whispers, and Peter sighs.

“I suppose. Though I'm still shopping around for proper names.” He smiles and Martin thinks it would be a rather charming smile if it wasn't for all the smoke- no, smog pouring out of his mouth. “You've Done This feels right but a bit on the nose.” “They're all on the nose,” Peter says and takes a step back as the smog begins to settle on the floor, the smell of chlorine and paint thinner and gasoline sinking into their clothes. “Blackened Earth is interesting. Watcher's Crown too.” Martin chances another look just as the man scratches his neck, sickly pale. “Where are they, by the way? Watcher and Archivist.” “Jail,” Peter says, and takes another step back forcing Martin up and against the door. “And where's Basira, Martin?” “Don't know.” “Doesn't know. Travesty.” Martin chances a look out the windows of the office. The hallway is empty but not the wrong kind of empty. It's still here. Peter can't leave- this man won't let them leave. Well. At least Peter's come back for him. It's more then he expected. “Yes.” The man says and sighs. The smell of burning plastic coming off of him makes Martin nearly gag. “Travesty.” He pulls his phone out, not a model Martin recognizes at a glance, and taps away at it. “Martin you need to-” Peter shakes his shoulder and Martin catches his eyes. “You need to go.” “Where- I-” He makes a hand movement, fingers twitching. “Fixed your CCTV for you.” The man says, not bothering to look up. “Did you know that was off? What a lark. This place and no CCTV?” “If you get to the street, they'll be a car- my nephew will get you away-” “Oh, black sedan?” The man looks up, flips his screen around. “You know most new cars are so- what is it- convenient? All electronic now, don't even need real keys anymore.” Martin doesn't need to look to know that it's a photo, several photos even, of a car wreck. Peter swallows, audibly. Not a good sign, generally, Martin's found. “So where does that leave us now then?” His voice doesn't waver, and that's fairly impressive, circumstances considering. “Barely even born and you try and sweep our legs out from under us? The rest of you had chances, where are ours? You understand, don't you, Peter Lukas? Whispering about things like that, it's nice to know you're scared.” “We've had bigger concerns,” Martin says, over Peter's shoulder. “Have you? Worms, I suppose. Very frightening. And dolls.” He walks around the desk and sits in Elias' chair. “Aren't you tired of it all? Aren't you always tired?” He rests his hands in his hands. “I was. I still am, really. But I suppose that never leaves anymore. Aren't you exhausted? Hm-” He stops, looking back at his phone. The click of the phone camera goes off before anyone has a chance to do anything. “Martin Blackwood. Still, have a facebook? Really?” “I meant to... delete it.” Peter looks at him with the sort of disdain he's so much more used to, and the slip of normalcy almost grounds him. “Not a lot of friends. No wonder you're with him.” He almost looks bored now, sliding through his account. “Oh you write poetry- that's sweet. Not particularly good, though.” “That's just-” Rude, he wants to say as another wave of nausea rolls over him. The man smiles again, and more of that smog rolls out, like nitrogen, rolling slowly across the desk and down the floor. “I friended you.” Martin looks at Peter who's not really paying attention anymore, thinking of ways to get away or at least get Martin away. He didn't think the Lonely was as weak as the Beholding was. The man's name is Jon Sims. He only has three- now four friends. One of them is a pet account. “Thanks?” “Anytime, Martin.” The man- Jon closes his eyes for a moment. “It was nice meeting you both.” And just like that, he's gone. “Well.” Peter opens the door, finally, and the smog pools out into the hallway. “That's enough excitement for one day, don't you think? You should take the rest of the day off.” “Right. Are- are you okay? I mean- Your nephew-” But Peter's gone too. Martin's head hurts.

…

There's a rash on his forearms, almost down to the wrist, that he notices when he's lying in bed and scrolling through his phone. It's sore and blistering, and when he prods at it lightly it bruises almost instantly, and when he touches the spot again, his finger comes away bloody. He considers calling Peter, but then, Jon's not Corruption. This could just be a spider bite that he didn't notice in all of the commotion. There's been so many of them at the office lately anyway. It's not getting any worse really, and with the way he's been existing lately, he really doesn't want to bother medical staff and ruin their lives, somehow. He bandages his arm and lies in bed, staring at Jon's facebook. He's doing research, obviously. There's not a lot on there, just some pictures of the man when he was obviously younger, mostly tagged by other accounts. His university days. If he wasn't a monster he'd be cute, Martin thinks with some sense of embarrassment. The two other accounts are of some girl who runs a podcast and uses her page as a business advertisement, and the other one is of a deceased page of some angry looking goth. Jon's account is the only one to leave a farewell message. That's kind of sad, almost, but again, scary smog monster. The nausea still hasn't gone away, not really. The pet account is of some massive orange thing that could be a cat or could be a fox in certain angles. It seems pretty popular. Jon likes most of the photos. It is pretty cute. The Admiral, it's called. Jon leaves comments under the videos and the account actually reply to him. It's shockingly simple. He expected something worse. He wakes up late for work the next day, still tired. A lot of hair on his pillow, but otherwise, fine. The rash hasn't gotten any worse. Hasn't gotten any better, but. He's fine.

…

Martin gets lunch at the Deli he used to visit with Sasha and Jon sits in the corner, reading his phone. The building is oddly empty, aside from them and two workers who look rather under the weather. Maybe something's going around. “Martin.” “Jon.” Smooth. Smooth and respectable. “How have you been?” He doesn't make a habit of looking up from his phone, glasses still down, thin curls of smoke twisting up towards the ceiling, darker than the smog. That same burning plastic smell is back, with undertones of exhaust and maybe just a hint of aerosol again. “Fine, I guess. Considering.” “Right. Stressful. I understand. Everyone's tired these days. Have you noticed? Tired and sad.” “I suppose that's a sign for you? End times?” “Maybe,” Jon says. “I'm still figuring things out. It was a lot of nothing, and then everything accelerated so quickly, I don't have teachers like everyone else does. But people want to rest. Talk to anyone our age.” “Oh so- you're what? Thirty?” “Twenty-nine.” A year younger than Martin- but then he knew that, from the facebook page. “It's just-” He shrugs. “Just the zeitgeist.” “Well, maybe you'd know better than me.” He says. “You're the one jumping from power to power.” There's an implication that makes Martin frown, He should leave. Get lunch elsewhere. If he could eat at all really. He coughs, to try and clear his throat before hacking harder. An allergic reaction, maybe. To the spider bite. Jon waves as he leaves.

…

Peter has the same rash, up and down his arms, and around his neck and when he coughs he draws blood, and it does little other than turn Martin's stomach. “At least Corruption has the decency to be quick about it,” Peter says bitterly while Martin pours their third cup of tea. “And you?” “No blood yet.” “From your throat you mean.” And he points at the bandage that's turning pink. Martin didn't even notice when the skin must have broken. “I guess.” Peter coughs again.

…

He finally throws up. There's blood, and Martin can't bring himself to be surprised. He drinks water and lays in bed and tries not to cough his throat anymore raw. The angry goth's name is Gerard Keay. Martin is only familiar with his mother because his mother skinned herself alive. The woman is Georgie Barker, and her podcast is called What The Ghost and the Admiral is her cat. They went to university together, her and Jon. They used to date, for a year. There's a few pictures of them together, one of Jon holding a much smaller Admiral and trying to hide a smile. The only picture of Jon and Gerard together is on vacation. Jon's wearing a tacky bar shirt. It's a selfie. They look horrifically mismatched, but Jon looks happy. He messages Georgie, more out of curiosity than anything and unsurprisingly doesn't get an answer back. He wakes up twice to throw up again, and when he gets back in bed, he's certain its a fever now. In the morning, when he showers and washes his hair, it comes out in clumps.

…

A young woman talks to Rosie when he gets in for work, and she takes one look at him and sighs. Georgie looks like what he expected her to. Prettier, in real life. Photos really didn't do her justice. “He applied here, I think? When we were still together.” She says. “Someone turned him down though.” “And now he's-” Martin trails off. He's not going to be the one to say- “And now he's a monster. Who's given you radiation poisoning, by the way. That's what that is.” She reaches into her massive bag and pulls out a slim well-worn box, and after turning a dial, an obnoxious loud clicking sound goes off. Even louder when she points it at him. “Do you just carry that around?” Because that's a good first question. “He does this a lot.” “Oh. Are you... also...” “No. I'm not involved in whatever this place is. Or any of the others.” He coughs, off to the side, and wipes the blood on his jeans. “Yeah. If it's that bad, I'd say go to a doctor but, I doubt any hospital will actually admit you. You're a walking biohazard.” “Oh.” “If I were you I'd get your affairs in order. Or ask him to take it back.” She shrugs. “He might.” “Oh.” He says again, like an idiot. “You know the fire people?” “Desolation?” Blackened Earth, he had mentioned. “He hangs out with them sometimes. Or the weird murder band.” Georgie pauses for a moment. “Actually, they're not that bad, now that I think about it. Ethically, horrific, but musically? Anyway.” She stands up and packs her counter with her. “Good luck.” “Right.” Later, when there are people running all of a sudden, down to the office, and Martin doesn't have to run after them to know Peter died.

…

He finds Jon surrounded by Lightless Flame members, smoking. Jon either doesn't see him or pretends not to see him so Martin inches around the hot bodies of the cultists until he's right next to him. Jon startles when Martin tugs on his sleeve, a large plume of dark smoke pouring out of Jon's mouth at once before he coughs. “Sorry,” Martin mumbles while a woman laughs beside them. “Really.” Of to the worst start, maybe. The smog makes him cough, and he doesn't bother cleaning the blood from his mouth. Maybe with his teeth covered in it, he'll look more pitiful, and that might be the only thing going for him. “Martin.” Jon blinks, pulling his glasses off his face. The woman whistles and he doesn't spare her a glance. “Peter died.” “Did he?” The woman whistles again, and claps Jon on the back. Martin swallows and nods, and the woman laughs, leaning on Jon's back, arms over his shoulders, before she ruffles his hair and Jon looks shockingly self-satisfied. She practically hangs off of him, her fingers dripping onto the floor. “Look at you.” She says, proud, and presses a singeing kiss into the side of his head. “Jude.” He sounds like an embarrassed child who's clingy mother won't leave him alone. “Agnes would be proud too.” She says, and he softens with that. “Could you-” Martin tries to clear his throat which only turns to more pathetic hacking. “Sorry to- to interrupt. Could you fix me?” That sends Jude cackling again, and Jon turns his head to try and hide a smile. “How do you imagine I do that?” “I don't know-” He feels very small. Tired. “Jump ship, kid.” Jude leans forward over Jon again. He can feel the heat that rolls off of her even through his fever. “Don't you want an little helper, Jon? An assistant?” “Not really.” Of course not. He doesn't know what he was hoping for- what he thought any part of this would even accomplish, really. “Aw. He looks like a kicked puppy.” “I have that effect on people.” Martin turns to leave, Jude's cackling following him all the way on to the street. He tastes blood in his mouth. It drips down his nose too.

…

The angry goth shows up in his dreams. Martin thinks it's odd at first, until Gerard “Call me Gerry” Keay tells him that he's bound, literally, to an End book, and then it's just more business as usual. “Just appeal to his better nature. Or get a cat.” “A cat?” In the dream, his skin doesn't feel like its dipped in acid, and his lungs don't ache. He can't taste iron anymore. He has a full head of hair. “Massive soft spots for cats. I think he had one, before? Or his ex had one. It's his phone background at least.” They sit in front of the Trevi fountain which Martin was sure he'd never see in real life, where Jon and Gerry took that one picture together. It's a gorgeous sunny day, and if he doesn't focus on the fact that the other tourists don't have faces, he thinks he could really learn to like this. “Why are you helping?” “He needs more friends who aren't dead.” Gerry pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lights one with a cheap looking lighter that looks a lot like Jon's. “I don't think he likes me.” “You'll grow on him. Probably. You seem friendly.” “Do you give this pep-talk to everyone he poisons?” “No.” Gerry blows a thin line of smoke through his nose. It smells of nicotine, faintly. “He doesn't bother keeping most people alive this long.” “Ah. Does he- Does he know?” Gerry shrugs. “He does, or he doesn't. I only found you cause you're irradiated the way you are.” Through Jon, Martin thinks he means. “I spend most of my time in his pocket,” Gerry explains like that's a normal thing to say casually. “Right.” “Oh-” Gerry puts a finger up, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cheap looking felt tip marker. “Before you go.” He grabs Martin's hand and scribbles an address on Martin's palm. “He'll be there tomorrow, sevenish, if you want to try again.” “He didn't seem- interested last time.” He says again, starring at the address. “Well, look at it this way.” Gerry gets up, cigarette already down to nothing in what feels like a few seconds, and he tosses it into the fountain. Some people shriek in objection, but Gerry walks back to him, pulling his long hair up and out of his face. Same deep circles under his eyes, made even more obvious by the eyeliner. “Either you make nice, or you die trying to vomit your lungs up alone in your apartment.” “Well, when you put it like that.” Gerry shrugs. “Tell Jon I like you, maybe it'll net you some favor.” “Do you?” Gerry pulls on a pair of glasses- Jon's glasses, and turns to walk away, almost disappearing into the faceless crowds. “Why not?”

…

He can barely move his legs, can barely keep his eyes open by the time he stumbles into the dive bar. There are some people setting up on stage, or unsetting up, Martin can't tell, and Jon sits at furthest bar seat, talking to- no- talking at one of the musicians. A cellist, leaning against his seat while Jon whispers about Peter Lukas' death. “Jon.” The monster turns around and gives him a glance before finishing his one-sided conversation. “Please.” “Please what, Martin?” “Please- Please anything-” A flutist clears his throat and taps the microphone before giving Jon a wink and playing the first notes. Martin doesn't pay attention to the mountain frenzy around them. Barely can with the blood pounding in his ears. And out of his ears. “Jon.” “I can't undo this.” He says, and the lighter smog pours out of his mouth. “Best I could do is speed it up. And that is something, isn't it?” “I'm-” Martin leans against the barstool, almost slides off of it. He doesn't want to die. Not after the worms and Not Them and the Unknowing. Not after Sasha and Tim and his mother. He's not going to- He doesn't want to yet. Not yet. He's suffered too much to just throw it all away because some cute abomination had a fight with his stand-in boss. “You're?” Jon's obviously not listening, too enraptured by the senseless violence in the rest of the place, glass flying and bones shattering. Georgie was right though, the music's nice. “I'm useful.” He says, hands shaking, dripping red on to the floor. “And sturdy. A- A really quick study.” “But aren't you tired, Martin?” There's the tiniest smile on his face. “Don't you want to rest, Martin?” “Why do you keep saying that-” He cuts himself off with a miserable cough, deep and red. “Because things don't hurt when you sleep.” He says. He reaches into his pocket, and there's the flesh page, just like Gerry said it would be. “There's nothing to worry about. Real life is a nightmare. Wouldn't it be better to just- rest.” Jon runs delicate fingers over the pale skin, flipping it over in his fingers. So Martin does what he does- well no, not best, Basira is way better at on the fly choices likes this- but he does- he does something. “What if I could get him back?” Another cough. “Corporeal.” And another. “The Archives- The Archives are-” “Very big, yes I know.” He sighs, and maybe the fever finally starts melting his brain, but there's a look of hopefulness, maybe. “Georgie likes you.” “Oh.” That's nice of her. “I'm. Fairly demanding.” “But you need help- all of them need help-” Even if it seems like Jon might be the exception to the rule. “Tell me where the Archivist is. And then I'll- I'll fix you.” “I-” Peter's kept him in such isolation that even if he wanted to, he had no idea. But- But he knew where Daisy was- and that's- that's almost like knowing where the Archivist is- where Basira is. “Martin?” Yes, he supposes, it's only polite to inquire about one's health when one faints at a concert.

…

He wakes up in a hospital room- no. In a hospital bed in a room made out of plastic, with iv's and monitors, thirsty and delirious. “What happened?” He asks no one in particular. “You died.” That's Jon's voice, unmistakably, even if muffled by the bubble Martin's in. “Oh.” Martin tries to turn his head, and it's harder then he imagined it would be. Jon's holding a big ball of- “Is that a cat?” “I'm babysitting.” It's hard to see through the plastic, but Jon scratches behind its ears, and it purrs so loudly, Martin thinks he's losing his mind again. “Georgie had to go to a convention.” “Oh.” Again. The- the normalcy of it all just really threw him. “I've thought about what you offered. I wouldn't mind if you did.” “That was on offer before I died.” He says without thinking because really, the nerve. “Oh, my mistake.” Jon stands, and The Admiral jumps up onto his shoulders, and then they're both in Martin's bubble. “And if I reintroduced the same circumstances again, would the offer return?” The smell of disease and fire and metal might as well drown him. “Didn't realize you were such a glutton for punishment.” Well obviously. Martin takes a deep breath, and smog pours out of Jon's mouth. It's in him again. He can feel the slow creep of it, the rancid smell of burning plastic sticking to his hair as his skin begins to burn itself from the inside out. The cat seems entirely unphased.   Like it's used to this. “Wait-” The smog gets pulled back into his mouth like a smoke trick. “I'll- I'll start research tomorrow.” “My very own assistant.” Jon smiles at him, the dark wisps rising and fading like regular cigarette smoke. “Really moving up in the world, aren't we?” The Admiral purrs when Jon scratches under his chin.

"So-"

"I'll come collect you soon. Once my friends flush the rest of it out of your uh-"

"Irradiated corpse." He should ask who Jon's friends are- who does hospitals? Or places that look like hospitals? Rich people? Maybe? For someone power that doesn't even know what it's going to call itself Jon sure has a lot of friends. Martin can't help but wonder where he finds them.

"That's the one."

And then Martin is alone.

Again.

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter Seven

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Word Count: 4268

THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: So this is definitely a chapter on my list of necessary revisions HOWEVER,  I’m writing one from some other characters POV just to shed some extra light on the circumstances surrounding what happens in this chapter. I think for sure we’ll get some Tony vignettes and maybe Steve and Darcy as well, just assessing Kaida and Tony and their states of mind (fragile, not great) and get into some motivating factors. Also, I know it’s a long time in coming but the big bad is coming soon. It’s not just Kaida vs herself as the main conflict in this piece. 

Warnings: drinking, smut, the like

Chapter One   Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four   Chapter Five Chapter Six

The next day, I was reading the next book on my to be read list when Peter came screeching into the common room. “Cranewood!!” He practically shrieked as he ran, hips first into the back of the couch I was lounging one. He miscalculated his own speed and toppled over the back, faceplanting right into my lap.

“Oh my god, oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t-oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry I just totally invaded your personal space and literally put my face there and oh my god.” He cut his own self off and blushed so deep, the tips of his ears almost flowed red. Peter licked himself back up and adjusted his blue sweatshirt before running his hands through the hair on the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Peter?”

“Y-yeah what’s up Kaida,” he managed to squeak out before coughing and clearing his throat, lowering his voice to compensate. I just stared back at him expectantly, dog-earring my page before slamming the book shut between my thighs. He blinked twice before shifting uncomfortably between feet. I swear, for an adult man, this boy sure acted like a gawky sophomore a lot.

“Oh. Oh yeah!!! We’ve met before. Cranewood School for Girls. Technically you and Spider-Man met but... I’m hurt that you were never even going to mention the first time I saved your life. What’s up with that? And also how did a Hydra ghost end up on Long Island at an elite prep school for upstanding young women and-“ I tuned him out unconsciously.

In truth, I had completely forgotten my run in with Spider-Man when I was 13. My sister and I were much too busy then still readjusting to a normal lifestyle we’d never had and covering our tracks while breaking enough laws to provide for ourselves, day in and day out.

Nadia had laundered enough money that We had more than enough for a down payment on a small apartment in the Long Island area and I was proficient enough in my mimicry and illusion work that we were able to enroll in school with a late start due to our “parents” and their extremely generous donations. It certainly helped that Nadia and I were both whip-smart.

I remembered the day Spidey was talking about. Some jack booted Hydra thug had stormed the grounds and held my class hostage, because his primary target, Anna, who was the daughter of a senator, was my classmate. Luckily, she sat about as far away from me as popular so the Agent was never able to see my face. I didn’t realize the whole upset was over until I had felt a large hand rubbing my back.

Of course, it was Spider-Man that came to my rescue. That day seemed to repeat itself over and over with no end sight. Of course, he was comforting me. His super hearing was the first power I’d ever assimilated by accident. We should test that more in the lab.

As I opened my mouth to finally suggest a battery of tests to Peter, FRIDAY started shouting instructions to be heard over the loud clang of the emergency bell.

Science could wait.

A few months later

The alarm cut through my concentration. It turned out to be just a bigger Code Green false alarm. We’d had two in the last week. I’m not blaming it on any specific individuals but there’s was something to be said in the 200% uptick in near Code Green’s since Dr. Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, intern and mechanical engineer extraordinaire returned from Reykjavik. But who was I to complain? After the relocated to the Tower back in May, just three months ago, there were more Strawberry pop tarts in the pantries than I’d ever seen before in my life. And it was so relieving to have another ‘devil may care’ woman around the Tower.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Natasha for all that she is but she’s just a teacher to me. And Wanda read as more of a mom friend in my mind. Darcy is the kind of girl you make up desperate housewives drinking games with. We gravitated toward each other immediately, bonding over baking, needling Tony, and then bemoaning the lack of clubbing appropriate company. She also held no judgment for me about my past, which I couldn’t believe until I saw her and Bucky making googly eyes at each other from across the room, then it all clicked.

Darcy Lewis had become my best friend, big sister and closest confidant and just a week’s time. Now, a few months later, there were still no hydra threats and my probation was set to be lifted this evening. “The perfect time to go clubbing “ Darcy had declared it, before enlisting my strengths to remove, forcibly if necessary, the science squad from their labs. And then to force them out into the world of the living. The only member to straight up refuse was Tony, as was expected. We had been… Cordial to one another but never anything more. I am nearly positive he had Friday keep tabs on my location just so he could avoid me at all times. Inevitably, we would run into each other Coming and going from our quarters or as we made our way to and from our designated lab spaces. I still didn’t quite understand why Tony lived on the same floor as the rest of the Avengers when I knew damn well he had his own penthouse in the tower.

Anyways, my lab was certainly something to behold. The calling it my lab was a bit of a stretch considering I didn’t build anything really, I just tested my powers and checked my biological markers with gadgets that Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Helen Cho had come up with together. We were still waiting for a contact from a group called the guardians who would potential he be able to determine what part alien I am. But it was the world’s most high tech library/relaxation room/artist’s studio. All to make remaining in it all day for the sake of data aggregation tenable.

To say I was bored out of my mind at first was an understatement. But over time I began to have visitors. Darcy was a daily, and surprisingly, so was Pietro. Peter and Bucky also visited, if less frequently. And, oddly enough, Vision was there almost all the time. I asked him about it once and he shrugged (how does a former AI program shrug so effectively) and simply stated that my presence combed his mind. Whatever that meant.

In any case, I wasn’t as bored or lonely anymore. In fact, I could almost swear that something was developing between Pietro and I.

Earlier this week, as I was doing the Times word search and also project in my powers to deflect incoming projectiles, my hair was flipped up and into my face, causing my concentration to skip which led to a tennis ball smacking me right in the face. Above me, Pietro burst out laughing and DUM-E beeped apologetically.

“I don’t think I can forgive you for this,“ I deadpanned, reaching back to jab him in the kidney, which he promptly dodged, all the while still cackling. When his laughing fit finally subsided, he stood back up straight.

“I have an idea, “he announced proudly.

“Stop the presses everyone, and called the Vatican, Speedy here has an idea. It must be a miracle. First one in a decade. The world must be ending,” I replied, looking at him and trying not to smirk. I will give him props because the obscene shocked and hurt that filled his face moments later was almost convincing. He chuckled and moved to sit on the stool next to me. He said nothing, only staring at me.

“Okay Zippy, what was your big idea?”

“You haven’t tested your instinctual and biological responses enough. For example, the fight or flight instinct is recreated too imperfectly in simulated situations to be of any use to you. However, there is another way around that beyond throwing yourself into open combat.” I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue. He leaned forward placing his hands on my side and leaning closer. Hesitant but not opposed, my eyes fluttered chat. Instead of kissing me as I had assumed (hoped!) was his plan, I felt his lips brush against the shell of my ear. I shattered at the sensation, anticipating.

“I have a question “, he whispered. I mumbled my acknowledgment and it took me a few seconds to process what he had said and by that time it was already too late. “ are you ticklish,” he had whisper gently. Now he was mercilessly attacking my side with one, extremely quick fingers, whenever I moved to try to escape, he was there.

I collapsed to the ground, giggling breathlessly before I cut myself and put on my grumpy face. Pietro smiled lazily and shifted so his knees were on either side of my thighs.

“ if you tickle me again, I’ll scream,” I warned him.

“ I bet I could have you screaming my name,” he replied cheesily.

“ I actually hate you right now. I’m considering making you my official arch nemesis. I might make T-shirts. And badges. Definitely badges.”

“Who’s making badges? Didn’t you know nemesis badges are so last season? This is why you should consult the great and powerful Darcy on all things,” came the snarky voice of my best friend from the lab door. I urgently pushed Pietro up and off of me. But as was the theme of the day, I was seconds too late, and Darcy saw us in a position that looked extremely compromising without context.

She raised her eyebrows at me, cheeks twitching as she managed, for once, to hold back whatever retort she thought of once she saw me beneath Pietro. Instead, she readjusted herself and offered me a hand to pick me up off of the slightly dusty floor. I made a mental note to give DUM-E the Swiffer tonight.

After I was back on my feet and thoroughly dusted off, Darcy approached the silver-haired man who was currently leaning against one of my shoulder high bookshelves, jabbing her finger into his sternum. “You hurt my sister and I know an Asgardian who can make your life a living hell. And no, I’m not talking about Thor. Plus, you should be scared of me, I’ve bested him in combat once before and I can certainly take you. So watch yourself Maximoff,” she growled before stomping away, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me along behind her. “We’ve talked about this,” she hissed at me after her suite door slammed behind us. She’d been silent the entire elevator ride down to her floor. I loved Darcy but she was still a little paranoid about FRIDAY always being present and listening in.

“Darcy it wasn’t like that, he... tickled me?”

She snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, I bet he did. Looked like he wanted to do a lot more from where I was standing kid. I’m telling you he’s bad news. What do you see in him anyway?”

I scoffed at her insinuation that somehow, Pietro would be the rotten one between us. “Dee I was literally sleeping with Tony Stark a few months ago while I had intimate knowledge of his fiancés fate. Plus I’m not exactly innocent in literally any sense if the word...” I trailed off but she just glared at me, which was her way of telling me that we weren’t leaving until I answered all of her questions.

I sighed and plopped myself down on her cozy armchair, putting my feet up. “It’s just... he’s easy to be around Darcy. It’s not hard, I don’t have to think about anything twice, there’s no pressure. He’s funny, makes me smile, puts up with my shit. And he doesn’t want more from me than I’m willing to give. We’re as easy as breathing.” I blinked, shocked at the words that had just come out of my mouth. Sure, I would admit to having a crush on the guy, he was hot and snarky. I loved that. Wait, love? I really was losing my mind.

“You know what, forget anything I just said. Let’s go out clubbing like you suggested and find me a man to get under for the night. I have to blow off some steam. I’m delusional and sappy over here.”

Darcy shrugged, noncommittally. “What?!” I demanded, confused as all hell.

“If you really feel that way about him, you should tell him. He may not be pushing you to give more than you’re ready for, but is he going to be prepared to give you everything you want, or is he just here for the safe convenience of it Kaida? You two have been prancing around each other like orphaned fawns, afraid to let yourselves get hurt and calling it sacrifice for the other. Or maybe he just doesn’t care and wants to play dirty because you’re available and convenient. “

I was a little hurt at her words but I could see the truth behind them. It was time Pietro and I had a chat. But not before I went out and had fun with my best friend. I relayed that thought to Darcy who excitedly squealed as we plotted to get the Science Squad out and about with us.

That brings us to now. Several of us piling into the biggest limo I’d ever seen. Bruce, Jane, Nat, Clint, Thor, Wanda, Pietro, Sam, Helen, the super soldiers, and even Peter had elected to join Darcy and I out tonight. It was certainly going to be one for the history books.

Smushed as we were in the back of the vehicle, it was oddly calming. For the first time today I felt as though I had time to just think for myself. I brushed my hand along my inner left forearm and shivered as a chill climbed down my spine. The perfectly raised but horrifically off-kilter writing simply read ‘cereal?’ today. Not much to go on if I were actively looking for my soulmate. Not that I would.

Whatever being it was that decided that two halves, or sometimes thirds or fourths of the same soul, would be imprinted with the first and last words their counterparts said for that day, was a complete and total madman.

It wasn’t a whole lot to go off of. I knew they were older than me because I’d gotten the marking before I could speak and I was advanced for my age. I knew they were New Yorkers just by the way they’d mention certain places and things offhand.

But I wasn’t looking for them. It was fairly obvious to me, at that point, that becoming a fixture in my life was beneficial to absolutely no one. And, based on the blip of feeling or insight I’d get mentally from my soulmate bond, whoever they were had a strong sense of duty. Someone who felt duty bound to a person like me would only end up dead.

And yeah, maybe I was kidding myself and these were really just excuses to protect myself from losing more of the people I cared about but honestly who gave a fuck. There were millions of people in this city. What were the odds we’d even run into each other?

Too high. But there was nothing I could do about that.

And then, after what felt like hours, the car stopped and the group spilled out on to the sidewalk before scrambling to the door of the club, bypassing the line. It was one of the classier, more exclusive establishments in town but not too high brow to preclude any riff-raff.

Cue Darcy Lewis, the bane of all rationality. Darcy’s personality was that of an instigator. I, on the other hand, would never back down when challenged. That meant five tequila shots in five minutes in addition to getting three random numbers. Just for fun. A few shots later and Darcy hauled me on to the dance floor.

We writhed and twisted around each other, alternating between cackling at one another and concentrating on looking appealing and feeling sexy. Her hands roamed my body and rested on my hips as I playfully ground myself back into her.

I could see Natasha posted up in the corner, sipping a sea breeze and keeping her eyes open. Bruce stood a few feet away from her, nervously twitching but slugging back some whiskey. Clint was at the bar pounding back beers with Helen, Jane, Thor, and Sam. All seemed deeply invested in a manic take the Asgardian was telling, arms flailing and making weird shapes as he attempted to act out whichever feat of heroism was on tap for tonight. Wanda stood behind them but looked a little lost. That’s when I noticed that Pietro and Peter were both missing.

Peter was easy enough to find, he was perched next to the top of the stairs, keeping up surveillance of the entire place, the boy having no idea how to relax. I was about to mention Pietro’s absence to the brunette behind me when the wind rushed around me. Suddenly, I wasn’t on the dance floor with Darcy but back at the bar with Pietro.

“What the fuck dude,” I bit out, slapping his arm. “You can’t just speed someone without permission, it doesn’t work like that.” Pietro just shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. It was the kind of smile that got him off for everything. And now was no exception.

“But Kaida, you promised to show me what body shots were some day. I would like to do them now if that is okay. I still have not learned all of your silly American customs.”

I was just gone enough to nod eagerly while my body flushed hot. Body shot demonstrations were requested and so they would be done. We started simple, cleavage shots, I showed him with Darcy and then he practiced on me. His scruff scraped pleasantly against my overheated skin and I trembled. Then Darcy whispered salaciously in Pietro’s ear as I rested up against the bar. In a flash, Pietro‘s hands were squeezing around my hips and I was laying on top of the bar, shirt hiked up.

Tequila was poured and salt sprinkled around my Navel by Darcy freakin' Lewis, who, just hours earlier, had scolded both Pietro and I for our touching antics. But now, here she was, encouraging Pietro to haul me on to the bar. Before I could process that emotional whiplash, Pietro’s face was hovering over my stomach, a wicked smile filling his expression. I squirmed and he responded by dipping his head, using his tongue to swipe up the salt from my body before continuing down and sucking on my navel, slurping up all the tequila. My body was positively on fire. I opened my mouth in a breathless moan and nearly choked when my best friend shoved the rind of lime between my teeth. Her face was quickly replaced by Pietro’s. His eyes burned into mine, his pupils were blown, dark and hungry. He placed his mouth over mine, biting down surprisingly gently so lime juice with a hint of a taste that must be pure Pietro flooded my mouth. Icy fire burned through my veins as I completely forgot the discomfort of the hardwood bar pressing against my back. We were drawing closer and closer to each other as Pietro decisively removed the line from my mouth.

The trance was broken by a cough and a throat clearing. The Spiders Two, Peter and Natasha, were standing behind Pietro, arms crossed. Nat’s face was expressionless, but Peter‘s emotions were somewhat clear. He looked uncomfortable, annoyed and something else I couldn’t quite get a read on. My mouth fell open in a drunken grin, as I waved awkwardly to them, attempting to lift my head and slide off the bar and to my feet. Unfortunately, I was still more than a little boneless from the whole “Pietro‘s lips and tongue on my body“ situation, so, while I did manage to slide off the bar, landing on my feet and my high heels was a whole different story.

Long story short, I simply didn’t. Fortunately, when you’re friends with other enhanced people, their reflexes are typically pretty good. So I felt long, pale arms lock around my middle and stop me from falling. I grinned widely again at the feeling of thick ropey muscles encompassing me.

As I righted myself, the arms remained around me, hints of spicy cologne filling my nostrils when I slouched back into the warm body that stood behind me, closing my eyes and tilting my head back to nuzzle into Pietro’s neck. His breath caught and he let out a weirdly high pitched squeak in surprise.

“Oh shoot,” I stammered reflexively, looking down, “did I step on your foot or something? I know these heels can be a bitch.” It took me a minute to realize why what I was seeing felt so wrong. Instead of the tight black jeans Pietro had been wearing that night, my rescued had on dorky khakis and a blue button up. Peter.

“Fuck, Peter I didn’t know it was you, god damn I like almost assaulted you there. I’m so, so sorry. Jesus Christ, no more tequila for me ever.” I just kept rattling off apologies until he waved me away and Darcy took my arm to lead me out to a cab that was pulling up for us. It was time for me to go home, so Clint was being sent with me to supervise and make sure I made it back to the Tower in one piece and then he’d take one of Tony’s cars to drive back to his farmstead. “I’ve gotta take the kids to school tomorrow. Laura has a doctor’s appointment and I’m trying to be a good dad. You know, the whole nine yards. Or at least as good of a dad as a world-renowned assassin can be.” He ended up using the ride to babble on TL me about everything Nathaniel was getting up to at the moment and the big fiasco when he found out he was named after a girl and the killer meltdown when his parents rebuked him.

Clint deposited me in the elevator and hit my floor for me before he took off to the tunnel leading towards our parking garage. For the first fifth floors, everything was silent save for the occasional squeak of a gear or run of a pulley. Until the elevator stopped on one of the lab floors. I should have realized at that moment that all but one member of the Science Squad had been out that night, but it didn’t until I saw him step into the elevator beside me.

We stiffened simultaneously as Tony and I took the other in. Taking opposite corners, we studiously ignored each other as the elevator began moving. It was uncomfortable and deafeningly quiet, but that was probably more than I deserved. And then, as though whatever cosmic being had a direct line to my thoughts coupled with a sick sense of humor, the elevator froze, the lights went dark and an alarm started blaring, quickly followed by the emergency sprinkler system.

So to recap, I was trapped in a metal box, in the dark, being pelted with cold water, quite similar to what my parents used to do to Nadia and me.

It was at this moment that I had my worst panic attack to date. The sharp sense of panic cut down whatever buzz I had built up from the night before. Pure unadulterated terror flooded my chest as I collapsed to the floor, twitching. My chest heaved with silent sobs, my trauma reminding me that if I made a sound, Nadia would be punished and vice verse. Tears streamed down my cheeks and bile coated my throat. I could hear tony working frantically to desired the elevator panel and talking at me. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t matter. I was too far gone.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. Before I could think clearly, I was entirely disassociated and then sleeping in a wet puddle on the floor of our stalled elevator.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in my own bed, drowning in an oversized hoody that I recognized as one I had stolen from Bucky weeks ago, that if I had to guess, he had originally stolen from Cap. It was royal blue number with a vintage style logo for the Brooklyn Dodgers, whose move was still a sore spot for Steve Rogers.

I sat up groggily, head pounding. As I finger combed my hair and stood to use my restroom, I heard gently snores coming from the plush sectional in my living room. Lo and behold, the Tony Stark was slumped over, not even under a blanket. The events of last night all came flooding back to me and I flushed a bright pink in embarrassment. I’d never shown just how deep that particular weakness ran for me. I turned back and tried to tiptoe out of the room and down to the communal floor for breakfast when Tony’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“I think it’s time we had a talk.”

TAGLIST: @peeterparkr @private-bucky-barnes @laurfangirl424 @bucktitybarnes

[the-amazing-spider-bi]

Prompt: Write a scene about the Hargreeves as children, please! (Vanya is my favorite, please include her too)

hi anon!! thank you so much for prompting me anon that is so so so nice!!!!i almost had no idea what to write until i remembered that the Hargreeves canonically went to school since Allison got into the soccer team and like… iconic. where’s the breakfast club au. anyway i’m not sure this is was you wanted but here it is anyway (or on ao3 if you like that better)

As Vanya and Five talked about extensively, her sitting under his bedsheets with crossed legs and a flashlight, they couldn’t understand why Dad insisted on making them attend middle school. 

He insisted even though he didn’t approve on any of their friendships with the other kids - not Five and Vanya’s, of course, who had no friends because Five didn’t like people and Vanya was as painfully shy as she was terrible at small talk, but the others who were better than them at talking to people. He insisted even though Pogo, Grace and he could certainly teach them better than any of the people employed there. He insisted even though all the parents kept protesting due to that time a supervillain tried to murder them in their Algebra class and ruined everyone’s grade on their finals. (Five thought they were just bad at Maths. Vanya stuck through the worst of it and got a passing grade. God, he got a B+, and he was fighting the supervillain for, like, half the exam.)

Dad, of course, didn’t care much for soccer parents’ opinions, or activities for that matter - he had never been to any school event in his life, which the other parents disapproved of in hushed tones in between glasses of mimosa. In his own words, their kids were no more unsafe from supervillains than from lone gunmen and it wasn’t like the government was doing anything about the later, so why should he? The world was dangerous, and you could die any day, they should just get on with their lives, pay for some self-defense classes for their brats, some Maths tutoring while they were at it, and stop bothering him.

And that was how they got stuck in assembly, which was the single most useless thing on Earth, in Five’s opinion. (Vanya had started listing useless things to pass the time as they ignored the speech in front of them: man’s tailbone, mosquitoes leaving bites when they sucked your blood, ties, itchy sweaters, sporks. Five only corrected her accurateness for some of those.)

So it was here, in the middle of the hall, as everyone else in school sat there on uncomfortable folding chairs that made Five’s back hurt like an old man’s and pretended to pay attention, Klaus gasped dramatically and pointed at Vanya. 

That in itself was not an unusual occurrence: Klaus, after all, did everything in a dramatic way, and was known to be rude to his siblings, and so Five decided to do what he did best and ignore him. 

Klaus, on the other hand, would not let himself be ignored.“Five!” he called out.

“That’s my number, yes,” Five answered, refusing to turn around, and Vanya hid her smirk by ducking her head.

“Five,” Klaus insisted, and he grasped his hand. Five stole it away quickly, because his siblings and him were twelve now, and they didn’t do silly things like holding hands, like babies. 

Klaus pouted and tugged at his sleeve and repeated: “Fiiive.”

“This could go all afternoon, you know,” Vanya pointed out, still pretending she was not smiling. She was right, of course. Vanya often was, and this was why she was his favorite. 

In that case, she was especially more so than usual, since they were hiding in the back of the room pretending to listen to some weird lady with homemade puppets who had been invited to the assembly for mysterious purposes. Allison was on another corner of the room openly laughing with some of the other girls, but no one was going to bother her for not listening, because she was class president and popular and also could make people do whatever she wanted anyway. Luther was sitting behind her and falling asleep on Diego’s shoulder, about five minutes away from being violently shoved away - Five was watching them with riveted eyes waiting for the inevitable disaster, and Vanya pretended to think he was being terrible but also watched as if she was at the movies.

Klaus, on the other hand, was sitting with Ben right behind them, and not content with being quiet until the lady stopped talking about bullying and the dangers of cliques.

“She is right, you know,” Klaus pointed out, useless. “I am nothing if not persistent. In fact, one could say this is my real power right here.”

“Being a pain in the ass?” Five supplied, enjoying a little the way Vanya squirmed uncomfortably at the swear word. She was such a goody-two-shoes.

“Yes. That’s how I beat the Magician, you know - I just kept talking and talking and talking and talking and-”

“He threw you out?”“No, actually, he tried to kill me and set off his own trap, but you know,” Klaus shrugged. “Anyway, as I was, in fact, saying,” he inhaled before bellowing: “Fiiiii-”

Vanya clamped a hand over his mouth fast, shushing him in panic. The teacher shot them a dark look. Five did his best to look innocent (unconvincingly), and she froze like a deer in headlights, sheepish as she almost always looked. Klaus didn’t even care, and instead licked Vanya’s hand, prompting a disgusted eww and her taking it off and pouting as she wiped it on her blazer. She didn’t punch him, because she was Vanya and she didn’t shove her siblings nearly as much as they shoved each other, so Five took it upon himself and kicked his chair. The teacher decided to move on. A wise woman. 

“Stop being a jerk, Klaus,” Ben said absently, turning the next page on his book. He had taken it out about five minutes into the speech and had not been reprimanded by any teacher, because he was everyone’s favorite, and rightfully so, but still - unfair.“

Thank you so much for the help, Number Four,” Five said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.”

“What did you want to tell us, Klaus?” Vanya said in a whisper that was very much like a plea.

Klaus pouted. “He’s not even listening to me.”

“When am I ever?” Five said before he added when Vanya narrowed her eyes at him: “What is up with you then, Klaus?”

“Loads of things,” Klaus said most unhelpfully. “I have a very fascinating life and I’m full of insights.”

“No he doesn’t,” Ben interrupted.

“What do you know about it, tentacle boy?” Klaus snapped, but Ben only smirked. “Anyway, I was thinking-”

“Dangerous pastime,” Five said. Vanya chuckled quietly.

“-because, you know, I was sitting right behind you, and I was trying not to pay attention to creepy puppet lady because I met her eye and I swear to god she winked at me-”

“In your dreams, maybe,” Ben quipped. 

“-which is scandalous since I’m saving myself for our Lord and savior Jesus Christ, thank you very much. Who are they even letting into our schools these days? God, everything is falling apart. Anyway, as I was saying… What was I saying?”

Vanya rolled her eyes so deeply Grace would warn her about getting stuck like this, and Five tried not to laugh at the face she made.

“Yes! Five. Right,” Klaus began again. “I was looking at your backs, and, lo and behold! You finally grew taller than her. Hurray! Can I get some applause for our little brother over here? I feel like we should applaud.”

Five turned to Vanya so fast he might have gotten whiplash and - for once, Klaus wasn’t lying. He was taller than her, for the first time since forever. Not that Five cared about petty business like that, except for how he did and he couldn’t shake the elation as his sister glanced up and down at him and grimaced in displeasure. (She used to be taller than all of them before they turned ten and Luther, Diego, Allison and Klaus started outgrowing her. Five and Ben still trailed behind. It was becoming embarrassing.)

Even then he just shrugged lazily and said: “Yeah, and?”“Come on, you can’t pretend you’re not happy about it.”

“Unlike you, Klaus, I don’t care about your nonsense, because I’m not a baby.”

“We’re literally all the same age,” Vanya pointed out. 

“I was obviously talking about a metaphorical baby.”

“Well, you’re a metaphorical jerk,” Klaus said, trying very hard not to sound whiny even though he totally was.

“Oh, that’s very clever-”

“Guys,” Vanya complained. “If you don’t stop talking so loud the teachers are going to yell at us-”

“So what? What are they gonna do? We saved this city, like, three times,” Klaus said, propping both his arms behind his chair lazily and starting to rock it. 

“I didn’t,” Vanya said, voice very small and entirely too bitter for a twelve-year-old.

“I’m so sorry, but that sounds like a you problem,” Klaus said, shrugging. 

At that, Vanya looked down and bit her lip and sat very still on her chair. Ben elbowed their brother in the ribs with a disapproving frown, which was probably meant, as Five would reason later, to prompt him to apologize to Vanya for hurting her feelings so callously, but only made him yelp very loudly in the middle of the hall and fall from his rocking chair in a tumble of lanky limbs. 

Somewhere on the other side of the room a very similar yelp and a very similar tumble of limbs echoed just as much as Luther was violently pushed off Diego’s shoulder and woken up from his nap.

The silence that followed this was very, very heavy on Five’s back, the only sound Vanya popping open her pill bottle - then looking up at Five with a gasp and a guilty look. Maybe it was because of the other kids craning their necks to see Klaus and Luther lying on their back in improbable positions. Maybe it was the puppet lady pausing her show for them. Maybe it was the calm before the teacher fell down on them with a hand too tight on their biceps and a snarl. 

Anyway, even as their teachers berated them with threats of detentions they wouldn’t dare give out, Five couldn’t help feeling giddy. He was, after all, finally taller than Vanya.

Of course, years and years later, he would learn that Vanya would be forever stuck at her twelve-year-old height and that every one of them would grow up to tower over her. Still. It was nice at the time. 

[jaeminlore]

friends to lovers!ten

prompt: how about a scenario in which the reader enters a convenience store, late night, wearing super fancy clothes and ten works in this store and they talk and sparks fly and there's a little bit of angst but lots of fluff?

okay well so this request immediately made me think of that ten gif where he is wearing those pajama pants nd the black sweater

y'all KNOW the one

i found it and added it ^^

but that outfit comes in a lot later in this scenario so we'll skip it for now

okay so the setting is prom

nd the most popular boy in school asked you so you bought this super fancy dress and wore your nicest heals and jewelry

you even wore fake eyelashes like you wanted to look n i c e

bc you're not very popular in school and you thought your senior year would've gone unnoticed by everyone

but the cutest (*´꒳`*) boy in school asked YOU out and so ofc you accepted

but :(((

unfortunately :(((

said cute boy had only asked you out as a bet

and . . . it hurt

bc you had your insecurities but you thought that for once someone had just seen you for you and had fallen in love w you

or at least liked you like you obv don't think someone has to love you in highschool

it'd be nice tho :'—(

anyway so when you find out (you had heard some girls whispering abt it in the stalls) you left as soon as you could

the popular dude had been your ride

so you called your mom and asked her to pick you up at the convinience store near the school

partly bc you didn't want to stay at that school any longer

but mostly bc you were craving some spicy noodles

you pull off your heels and walk over to the convenience store, smiling softly at the worker at the counter

he looked bored before you walked in, his chin resting on his palm

but when you came in he was all business like suddenly he was standing up straight w a charming smile

"hello i'm ten! let me know if you need any help!"

his eyes trail down your body and his eyebrows lift "oh! were you just at prom? did you have fun?"

you shook your head solemnly

"i went but . . . i didn't have much fun."

"oh" ten frowns before brightening up again "well you look pretty."

"thanks"

you feel a little flustered at his words, since he sounds so genuine

"um— i'm gonna buy noodles now,,,,,"

nd you probably scurry away from him as quick as you can bc you already feel humiliated

like the only thing left is to have a crush on the convenience store worker just bc he called you pretty

you snatch your favorite brand of noodles and go over to the lil station, pouring the boiling water into the bowl before heading back to the counter

you pay for the noodles, and when ten hands you back your change his fingers brush your palm and you're just

blushing aGAin

you plan to eat the noodles outside bc there's no way you're going to stay in the store

but ten kinda leans over and asks

"can i eat w you? my break is soon and since you’re the only customer . . . would it be okay?"

his cheeks are kinda pink as he asks, and his eyes are avoiding your gaze as he stares at a soda stain left on the counter

u rlly don't wanna say yes

bc you just want to be alone in your misery

but also ... he looks so nervous you rlly didn't have the heart to reject him

"sure. but let's eat outside."

suddenly he gets the bRiGhTeSt smile on his face!!!! and he's like just let me make some hot chocolate!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you actually have no idea how lonely ten is

esp tonight bc he had to take a shift at the gas station while his school had prom

and of course he wanted to go bc prom is like the one time you can dance and no one makes fun of you for it

but his boss would not let him take his shift off so :(

and he doesn't think you know him bc the two of you are in completely different social groups

he is on the dance team and participates in musical theater

you are on the swim team and spend any other time in the library

ten knows you bc he thinks you're really cute :,,,,)

and he was going to ask you to prom

but

in the locker room after gym he overheard one of the popular boys talk abt bringing you and he knew he couldn't compete

so he never asked

fate must've intervened and brought you to him, so he took advantage of the situation and asked to eat with you

you're already eating when he arrives w his hot coco and a cup of noodles

it's an odd combination but you don't criticize it

"so, y/n, what brings you to my humble workplace?"

you narrow your eyes "you know me?"

"we go to the same school," ten answers, and he can see the obvious awkwardness in your eyes bc you genuinely don't recognize him "it's okay, we aren't friends or anything. i just know you bc you're on the swim team and my friend doyoung is the captain."

"ah! doyoung!" you say, thinking of your captain who always nags you to keep up your fitness regime. you wonder what he would say if he saw you with a sodium-packed cup of noodles

"he's annoying. nags too much."

ten laughs, and it's chirpy and bright and so wonderful that you find yourself leaning in to hear it more clearly

"he's always been like that," ten supplies, "he didn't even want mark or donghyuck to go to prom tonight bc he was afraid someone would spike the punch bowl"

"i think i saw that yuta kid pouring some tequila in it earlier."

the two of you compare nagging mom!doyoung stories before ten brings up the elephant in the room

"so why are you here, and not at prom?"

"oh. well I found out i was asked on a bet. something like who could bring the biggest loser as their prom date or something. i didn't stay around for the details."

ten is mad. you can't see it, bc he's rlly good at hiding his anger

but his jaw is clenched and his fists are going full arthur meme under the table

he just doesn't understand why someone would do that to anyone, let alone the person he liked the most in school

you don't even seem that bothered by it anymore, having gotten your noodles and disposed of your fake eyelashes and heels

(you save the eyelashes for another use tho obv those things are expensive)

and ten kinda has the urge to ask you to go to prom with him

it must have an hour left, and he could close up the store early (even if he would have to hear from his boss the next day)

but you could get the prom you wanted, and he could dance beside the prettiest girl in the room

"hey, y/n?"

you don't hear him, because a minivan is pulling into the parking lot, and you're already walking towards it. "I'll see you at school, ten! thanks for hanging out w me!"

"oh. no problem!" he gives you a wave and a halfhearted smile before turning around to clean everything up and return to his shift

he's very sad that he missed out on his opportunity w you

fast forward >>>>>>>>>>

two weeks later, and you're cramming for final exams while simultaniously training for the last swim meet of the year

and you're v v busy

but also you just want a break

and doyoung has had the whole team on a no carb diet bc he wants everyone to have suburb energy burned by vegetables alone

and all you're craving are some spicy noodles from the convienice store

you also kind of want to see ten again

ever since prom night you've noticed him around school and your heart gives a lil stir every time he sends you a smile or tiny wave

bc he's so cute :(

and you can't believe you haven't noticed him before :/

but at least you know him now :)

so anyway you decide to visit the store he works at in the hopes of gaining enough energy to be able to finish studying for your finals

you also rlly want ten to be there bc you highkey want to ask him on a date

bc he’s rlly cute and he was so kind to you that he just makes your heart go zoooooOOOoOoOOOoommmmmMMMMmm

so you go completely dressed down compared to last time 

like your hair isn't even brushed lololol

when you arrive,,, ten isn't there :(

instead it’s this old guy behind the counter and he kind of sneers at you before going back to watching the lq tv in the corner

although it sucks that ten isn't there, you go to the back to find the same instant noodles you found last time

and low and behold!!!!

i bet you guys cant guess what happens next bc this is so unpredictable ;)

ten is there!!!

this is where the gif comes in bc he’s dressed in his pajamas too with an oversized sweater and messy hair that brushes over his eyes and U DNjkzwbfjdjfbbfjewbfe you gET it

“ten?”

he jerks around from looking at a packaged cheese danish (you KNOW he would don't argue w me!)

“y/n?” his smile grOWS “what’re you doing here?”

you shrug “i came for snacks..... and maybe you”

“me??” and ten is blushing !!! bc his crush is looking for him!!!! 

“well.... you found me”

“yeah...” you don't really know what to do next, so you just hold up the cup of noodles,, “do you wanna ... idk ... eat w me?”

a cheeky smile appears on ten’s face and he just kind of asks,,, “is this a date, y/n?”

“idk do you want it to be?”

“tbh yeah”

“yay bc me too”

yall are just two cuties who like eating together outside of the convenience store

nd when you have your swim meet ten is the loudest cheerer in the crowd

when your team wins he runs up and kisses you in front of everyone!!!! bc he’s extra!!!! nd doyoung chides him for it bc you have to go get your award but ten doesn't care!!!!

anyway yeah that's friends to lovers ten

:’)

the end