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grievedifferent · 2 years ago

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// * basically a huge bioshock meta from an old ask on yagami’s now deleted / archived blog

unprompted ask. always accepting!!

🖤 🖤 — an ask for u! ive noticed u often take inspiration from bioshock infinite which i think is So sexy and cool and on point, do you have any thoughts on how certain aspects or quotes remind you of yagami // * @/reastless

** HUGE BIOSHOCK SPOILERS BELOW FOR ALL GAMES!!!! ** LONG POST ** !! !!

now to answer this amazing ask: so hi, let me just say this: i was so excited to get this. i have been wanting to answer it for a while, thus i brought it over to this account to answer. this is a very large concept for me as an ask because there are a lot of quotes that i apply to yagami from both bioshock 1, 2, the dlc minerva’s den, and infinite and its subsequent dlc, as well as many aspects of columbia, rapture, and specifically elizabeth comstock, jack ryan and andrew ryan as characters that i can relate back to yagami in some senses. these aren’t meant to be exact 1:1 comparisons, but there are too many parallels for me to ignore, so i am going to focus on where things align or are relative to yagami from these sources / characters / quotes / etc over how they differ because i feel like, especially if you know the series, we can tell how immensely different in many ways light and jack ryan are for instance based on just … intelligence alone, but there are certain things about jack and especially a few quotes that i feel are very, very applicable to yagami that i will discuss in this post.

let’s start by splitting the games up first ––> we’ll go bioshock, bioshock: infinite, and then the dlc to that which is burial at sea: parts 1 + 2. note: i am leaving out bioshock 2 and its accompanying DLCs for major analysis, but i’ll be adding some quotes i find applicable at the end of this post. i do like those games, but i feel bioshock 1, infinite, and bas are more yagamicore if that makes sense?

i’ll be putting the characters, the quotes from said characters and other characters in-game, and the aspects of the cities that i find relative to yagami in each section. this is where it starts to get very long as a warning …

BIOSHOCK 1: RAPTURE // THE PRODIGAL SON COMES HOME // A TIME TO LIVE + A TIME TO DIE (THE BEGINNING)

aesthetically speaking, i align a lot of the art deco style that rapture provides, as well as the feeling of utter containment, to the center of kira’s kingdom / the idea of kira’s kingdom as yagami projects it to be both in his lifetime and post his inevitable death. the use of blues, grey, whites, blacks, as well as the colors that pop in the city itself are just very appealing and something i can see, as i said, being utilized in the more “central core” of kira’s kingdom. the closer you get to the center, the more it shifts from that “infinite” feel to that “rapture” feel. there is definitely an in-between sector, but that’s for another post tbh. i think it’s also worth nothing that ryan keeps himself in the core of hephaestus in rapture, which is very hot and very red, and very yagami imo.

the concept of the parasites / andrew ryan’s paranoia / escaping the traditional views of society –– ryan and yagami hold very similar views of those that they deem “unworthy”. yagami refers to them by the end as scum. he could easily call them parasites. they both hold a disdain for those that hinder progress and are small minded, lazy, or unwilling to better themselves.

the great man complex / no gods, no kings, only man / the projection of the self into godhood –– ryan does not intend to make himself a god, as he rejects all forms of god, while yagami seeks to be a god, but there is relation to the way ryan presents himself in the decor of rapture. your first introduction in the lighthouse is a large statue of andew ryan’s bust staring down at you, “encouraging” you to go into the bathysphere. the first contact you “make”, aside from atlas (technically), is the video that is presented to you as a welcome service. it is andrew ryan’s speech:

“I am Andrew Ryan, and I’m here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? ‘No!’ says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor.’ 'No!’ says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God.’ 'No!’ says the man in Moscow, 'It belongs to everyone.’ I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose… Rapture, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.”

i believe that yagami would have a similar concept, and while he would not so openly show his identity, he would project kira as the ultimate law / the judge, jury, and executioner, with very distinct aesthetic choices aligned to the concept of “kira” / the use of the letter k / the use of the “eyes” (such as eckleburg’s eyes in gatsby … the eyes of god).

how powerful is the concept of a dream? and can one build the impossible? –– we see ryan struggle immensely with his dream, and if he is willing to do whatever it takes to save his city, even go against his own word and belief to save it, or if he is to stand by his word, thus letting his city fall entirely to ruin.

the jack ryan effect / the prodigal son returns / a soldier to be activated –– there is an entire central aspect to the idea that jack was created.

“You think you have memories. A farm. A family. An airplane. A crash. And then this place. Was there really a family? Did that airplane crash, or, was it hijacked? Forced down, forced down by something less than a man, something bred to sleepwalk through life unless activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their kindly master. Come in.”

yagami definitely was “bred to sleepwalk” through life, as well as be “activated”. there is an overall theme here of the objectification and ultimate purpose of jack ryan in alignment to yagami raito. both were made for specific, intended needs that were necessary to fill from sources outside of their control. their goals might not have been the same, but their creation is very similar in concept … they were made to do exactly what was needed of them; to perform.

atlas / a war in rapture –– atlas is literally a parallel to lawliet. ryan is at war with atlas, a man with (technically speaking) “no face”. this man is actually frank fontaine, a man with many identities, and while fontaine is vastly different than lawliet in all ways, the concept of atlas and the use of multiple aliases is very similar. ryan proclaims that atlas will destroy his city, and that he must not question his own beliefs. the war in rapture that is between ryan and atlas supporters is ultimately what assists to bring rapture to ruin, along with the many other conditions that primarily focus in class and labor disparities, as well as the lack of a middle-class. there would be disparity initially, if not permanently, in kira’s kingdom. constantly battling lawliet’s successors is like constantly battling atlas. atlas makes ryan paranoid.

the death of a father / you think you have memories? –– another pretty obvious one. while the deaths of ryan and soichiro are quite different, and i could align parallels to ryan and soichiro, for the sake of the jack ryan comparison, i will say that ryan’s death is very symbolic to the death of soichiro in its own way. yagami indirectly killed his father through the first push of the plot / jack killed his father in person. i actually already quoted the “you think you have memories”, but that quote isn’t completely appropriate here, but it is funny so i’ll keep it / let it slide.

this actually continues into the idea of ryan’s death and yagami’s … the pride of ryan even to the end of his life is yagami. they both make a speech til the very end, dying in similar conditions / body damage / locational similarities. ryan’s office is quite similar to the environment of the warehouse that yagami perishes in.

bill mcdonagh … bill is andew ryan’s best friend, and is stated to be the moral center to ryan’s character. he keeps ryan primarily in balance, while ryan’s other asset sullivan seeks out and eliminates targets in ryan’s way, enforcing his will, and acting as the hand to the great man. this figure is very matsuda to me. bill says,

“I never killed a man, let alone a mate. But this is what things come to. I don’t know if killing Mr. Ryan will stop the war, but I know it won’t stop while that man breathes. I love Mr. Ryan. But I love Rapture. If I have to kill one to save the other, so be it.”

–– if this isn’t matusda, i don’t know what is. while ryan actually succeeds in killing bill, yagami did kill a part of matsuda’s spirit, and did indirectly kill his own father, an important figure to matsuda. in the end, bill technically “wins”, as does matsuda … neither deliver the killing blow.

a season for all things / a time to live + a time to die –– when andrew ryan is in his final moments, he says to jack,

“Even in a book of lies sometimes you find truth. There is indeed a season for all things and now that I see you flesh-to-flesh and blood-to-blood I know I cannot raise my hand against you. But know this, you are my greatest disappointment. Does your master hear me? Atlas! You can kill me, but you will never have my city. My strength is not in steel and fire, that is what the parasites will never understand. A season for all things! A time to live and a time to die, a time to build… and a time to destroy!“

this is directly associated with lawliet, mello, near, and even matt. in yagami’s final moments, he scorns those around him, talking to the very end.

more andrew ryan quotes,

“I came to this place to build the impossible. You came to rob what you could never build - a Hun gaping at the gates of Rome. Even the air you breathe is sponged from my account. Well… breathe deep, so later you might remember the taste.”

“Why are you so resistant to the traditional methods of separating a man from his soul? You’re not CIA, are you? YOU BELONG TO ATLAS - the one roach I can’t seem to exterminate. Don’t worry; I just need time to find the proper poison.”

“Before the final rat has eaten the last gram of you, Rapture will have returned. I WILL LEAD A PARADE. “Who was that,” they’ll say, as they point to the sad shape hanging on my wall, “who was that?"”

“You ooze in like an assassin, and then you try to sneak out like a thief! You’re no CIA spook. Who are you! Why have you come here! [a beat] There’s two ways to deal with mystery: UNCOVER IT, or ELIMINATE IT.”

“We all make choices, but in the end, our choices make us.”

i will note that andrew ryan is very anti-altruism. yagami imo is not anti-altruism if only because he views his own actions as kira as basically altruistic…he’s doing this for the “good” of humanity, and he’s doing it without being asked. also there are a lot of great ryan quotes i wanted to add in, but they just didn’t fit the narrative i’m going for … but look at all his quotes here!!

now other quotes that are from various other characters that i find fitting either to yagami, kira’s kingdom, death note, etc.

“Hanging now, is it? That’s what we’ve come to? Now look, I don’t make the laws here, I just enforce them. But I didn’t come to Rapture to string men up for running contraband. If Ryan and his crew have their law, then they can have my badge.” –– Sullivan

BIOSHOCK: INFINITE // A BETTER HOME AWAITING (IN THE SKY) // UNBROKEN CIRCLES // WELCOME, PILGRIM [ THE END ]

EDIT: columbia is where it gets dicey, and i explain that below, but just know that other than aesthetics, i affiliate mostly elizabeth and some of lady comstock as far as plot goes, but i don’t think death note is appropriate to the actual plot of columbia’s portion in infinite. there is a lot going on in that game with the city, the characters, the subplots, the timeline(s), tears, etc. so there’s large chunks i do and do not take after. with a character like comstock, i would say yagami is far more ryan aligned out of those “figureheads” such as comstock, ryan, atlas, fontaine, etc. the “big guys”, if you will. it’s complicated because the facets of yagami fit andrew ryan, jack ryan, and elizabeth.

as with rapture, there is a certain aesthetic that columbia provides that i want to sort of take inspiration from. particularly the structures, the weightlessness, the ethereal feeling you get, that awe inspiring desire to look around at everything and just feel peace. the columbia you get to explore pre-major plot and destruction is very beautiful. i should note that it’s not the christian aesthetic that i am going for, nor am i taking anything from the beliefs of comstock, fink or columbia’s citizens, and i do not associate the vox rebellion with anything in death note. i just want to be clear it’s definitely a shallow aesthetic thing and nothing more –– the details in columbia are beautiful, such as soldier’s field for example. the blue lighting, the details in even the wooden flooring, the overall atmosphere of freedom. i think this fits as a lot with the “crust” or the “exterior” of kira’s kingdom. i have discussed that the columbia aesthetic dissolves to the rapture aesthetic above in bioshock 1.

i won’t be referencing finkton at all basically as it is not applicable to the death note plot, nor is fink tbh. comstock also isn’t very prevalent, but he has a few quotes i’ll jot down here. again i’ll just say that i don’t really take the overall christian message from comstock’s quotes, but taking them into context of death note definitely helps make them make more sense in the sense of applying them to death note. comstock literally is a terrible racist, just a bad person, murdered his wife, the list goes literally on and on with him … and i really don’t even feel that comfortable including him here but like…i have to be also realistic that he was filling a specific role that was clearly putting him in a negative light, but that doesn’t mean i’m associating comtock’s views and beliefs to (imo) a more “morally just” character like yagami … that being said, comstock is the creator of columbia, much in the way that yagai is the creator kira’s kingdom, so the intent here is more the actual building the foundation of their “arcs”. these quotes are meant to be applied to the creation of “kira’s kingdom” as yagami envisioned it to be:

"You see my friends, even god is entitled to a do-over, and what is Columbia if not another ark, for another time.”

“And when the angel Columbia gave unto The Founders the tools to build the new Eden, they did so without hesitation. [ … ] The only Emancipation he had to offer… was death.”

the water down the stars / the entrance to columbia / the welcome center … the scene between yagami and lawliet is something i akin to the water on the floor of the welcome center that you walk through, ultimately wading up to your waist when you try to exit the welcome center. it’s there that we get booker’s first death; he drowns by baptism. this one isn’t clean yet. this is very parallel to the idea that kira can cleanse the earth of its sins and eliminate the sinners.

the concept of the miracle child / he is the miracle child / he will produce the miracle child –– a) i would love for yagami to interact with ezliabeth in any form, i have a lot of ideas for crossovers and b) they have similar weights on their shoulders in some regards and c) they were born to be “the miracle child” of their environments. they are both kept “locked up” in their own towers, elizabeth’s a literal tower, yagami’s a metaphorical tower. yagami moving out, or wanting to move out, was a surprise to his father. yagami’s room is also, in theory, his “tower”. ryuk is his “songbird” figure as far as an agent of specific means following the miracle child. yagami was also in observation under lawliet, which is similar to elizabeth being subjected to being watched. yagami knew of this and consented, whereas elizabeth was ignorant to this, finding out later she was under observation 24/7.

“The seed of the prophet shall sit the throne, and drown in flame the mountains of man.” –– Comstock

“They were watching me? All this time… Why? Why did they put me in here?” –– Elizabeth

now it’s time for some elizabeth-centric quotes that i find applicable to yagami (how many times can i say the word applicable lmao):

“Elizabeth : Booker, are you afraid of God? Booker DeWitt : No. But I’m afraid of you.”

“Time…Time rots everything. Even hope.”

“There’s always a lighthouse, a man, a city.”

“What I’ve done… cannot be undone. I cannot stop… what I have put in motion.”

the mind of the subject will desperately seek to create memories where none exist –– this is a direct correlation to the yotsuba arc where yagami is imprisoned and loses his memories.

a city above the clouds / kira’s kingdom will rise above

i’m just a prophet / eyes of god / this will end in blood –– this is definitely an association to mikami, who is the “prophet” or the “eyes of god” given his position and affiliation to kira. to quote comstock,

”The Lord Forgives Everything, But I’m Just A Prophet… So I Don’t Have To. Amen.“

the lady comstock effect –– she shares a role both similar to misa and takada, but i lean more to the latter. there is something alluring about lady comstock, and i attribute that to the amazing laura bailey (who was also keiko in yyh!!!) … lady comstock says a few important and poignant quotes that i think are very easy to see in misa, takada, and even kira supporters. she says,

“To those who loved me, I was the most generous of souls. There was no pain I would deny them. No betrayal I would not gladly give. And when I had scorched the hearts of all who loved me, the Prophet said, “There is nothing you can do for which I will not forgive you, for God has granted me sight, and through His eyes, even you are loved.”

“Love the Prophet, because he loves the sinner. Love the sinner, because he is you. Without the sinner, what need is there for a redeemer? Without sin, what grace has forgiveness?”

the ethereal feeling of columbia that i mentioned above, particularly when there is no active engagement of violence with the opposing npcs; soldier’s field and other sections are large inspirations for the “calm” nature of the exterior and bulk of the city and/or the idea of kira’s kingdom, which starts as one unit, and would thus spread globally.

BIOSHOCK DLC: BURIAL AT SEA (PT.1 + PT. 2) // A WHEEL OF BLOOD // THE EXPLOITED BECOMES THE EXPLOITER // BACK TO THE BEGINNING

i’m going to be honest … this dlc makes absolutely no sense to what infinite, and thus the prior games. this actually excludes bioshock 2 in this canon, so it goes bioshock 1, then infinite, then bas as 2 was from their parent company 2k and not irrational games, which was ken levine’s child compan to 2k which ultimately is underneath take-two, so bioshock 2 is technically an outlier, but it’s a good outlier imo with a more solid dlc than infinite had.

i said what i said, and i meant what i said. it makes no sense. if you get it, you get it; if you don’t get it, you don’t get it. also they ran atlas and daisy into the ground, and i won’t even get into that comstock and that elizabeth.

now that being said, it’s a great (what i call) “quote machine”. it’s also aesthetically beautifully, it shows rapture as we want to see it pre-1960 / the fall of rapture / pre-war.

so this will be shorter. the storyline isn’t too much something i can equate to death note or yagami, but there are some pivotal quotes that elizabeth says in both parts 1 and 2. particularly she says,

“I should have just….. I will never escape it. Exploited / exploiting. Me, Comstock, you, Sally. It’s like a wheel of blood, spinning round and round.”

“This world values children, not childhood; there is a profit to be made, and men who make it.”

BIOSHOCK 2 AND MINERVA’S DEN QUOTES:

"Another day waiting for Harry to come home. I told him not to speak up against Mr. Ryan’s policies, and now he’s missing! Just never came home! I went by the bookstore and all his books are gone too. I don’t know what to do. Now I have to deal with that awful Sinclair just to have a roof over my head!” –– Gloria Parson // Bioshock 2

“For every choice, there is an echo, with each act we change the world. One man chose a city free of law and god, but others chose corruption, and so the city fell. If the world was reborn in your image, would it be paradise or perdition?” –– Sofia Lamb // Bioshock 2

“I know you. That symbol on your hand marks you a dead man. Ten years - [ … ] But take heart: Out of your pain, paradise was born. I don’t know how you survived, but your suffering is over now. These men will ease your burden. Please understand that like all I’ve done, this… is an act of love.”

“So… you would drain the people of their life’s blood. Rapture is a body, Delta. I am the voice… And Big Sister is the hand. When Rapture speaks of you — it says only this: Sleep now. Your day is done.”

“I had thought you some golem of Sinclair’s, brought here to hold Rapture’s arms as he rifles through her pockets. But no… You are aware of your plight. Who, I wonder, would be so cruel? To force a mirror on a man with no face…”

“Love is just a chemical. We give it meaning by choice.” –– Eleanor Lamb // Boshock 2

i honestly could go on and on, but this post is long enough. there is so much that i see that could crossover so easily with death note and bioshock. maybe i’ll make my own crossover someday!!

also –– i’m not even including the novel, but just know i acknowledge it, and i actually enjoy it. this post would just be too long to add in the rapture novel, unfortunately, but i do have a copy, and maybe i will do an analysis just for the book someday.

#yagami tbt #headcanon tbt #read more for length #read more for length //

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mostlymaudlin · 3 years ago

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Rory I want to start writing fanfiction but I have no idea where to start! Any tips?

omg friend i am very excited for you to embark on the wild journey that is fanfic. it is often very terrible but it is rewarding. im honored that you’ve asked me tbh — maybe if any of my writer mutuals have additional tips they can reply to this too??

ive only actually been writing fanfic for a few months! i jumped into it after writing a lot professionally, so it wasn't as daunting for me. but i rmr as a teen i always wanted to write fic but i had no writing background and id get so overwhelmed and just. give up lol

i guess i have three things… first, know the basic elements of a story. second, read!! and third, steal shit. ill elaborate under the cut...

story elements

i used to teach high school english and there wasnt a huge emphasis on narrative writing in the curriculum. but i always did a quick & dirty memoir unit just to expose kids to it. everyone talks about plot/theme but i don’t think that’s the hard part — you can have a pretty good idea of what story you want to tell, but that doesn’t make it easier to tell it. so i always refer to the four elements of a narrative (which i stole from a colleague or the internet or something… should probably figure that out one day.)

anyway. you’ve got character, which seems self-explanatory, but a big part of writing character is knowing them well enough to make decisions that seem right for them. you’ve got setting, which is where your characters are. this is my favorite sandbox to play in… i spend a lot of time thinking about whats in the room with my characters that they can interact with. it's a great way to overcome writers block when you can just be like: oh no someone spilled a drink on my guy! oh no it started raining! what do they do now? you've got dialogue, which is obviously the conversations, but more specifically, how is it formatted? what types of words is your character going to use? and finally, you've blocking, which is the description of what your characters are doing — did they scratch their ear? did they walk to the bar? did their eyes crinkle when they laughed? this kind of thing.

read!!

i was kinda vague about the elements because i think the best way to figure them out is to look for them in writing that you enjoy. that’s what i did in class — i gave the definitions, did an example round where we read and highlighted different elements in a text together, and then i let them practice a few more times with choice texts. look for these elements when you read and see what you think works. its different for everyone, because *style* — and thats a good thing! when you get an idea of the things you like when you read….

STEAL 😈

ok i am obviously not endorsing lifting whole parts of people’s fics. but fanfic as a genre is all about stealing bits and pieces from here and there and making whole new stories. so if you like the way someone describes something, make it your own! if you like a setting someone used, put your characters in it! you’re learning and practicing, it’s okay to mimic writers you respect.

this applies beyond just style stuff tho — steal as much from the source material as you need. i think it’s much less overwhelming to write little canon compliance/divergence stories, because you’re sticking within the clear bounds of an already created world. so like: what happened between these scenes? what would this scene look like from this characters point of view? what would happen if the character did this instead of that? aus can be super fun because you get to do whatever you want, but that can also make it daunting. half my fics on ao3 are that kind of close-to-canon tidbits — they’re quicker to write for me, so i just kind of spit them out when inspiration strikes lol. also, this isn't even fic-specific advice; i always had students write memoir because it's a scene from your own life. you know what has to happen, but now you get to practice the how of it all.

but yes! see what you like in others’ work and bring it into yours. share snippets with folks to get feedback or have them pump you up. and don’t wait until your writing is perfect to start publishing. i used to write for newspapers, and i cringe when i see some of my first bylines. but im glad i wrote them because i only got better every time i wrote something else. and also, the engagement you get from posting fic instead of letting it languish on google drive is great motivation to keep going.

ok. i got really long-winded here. but please!! write!! i wish id started writing fanfiction years ago instead of waiting until i was more confident in my writing. for one, id probably be a better writer. but also its just really fucking fun!!

and if you ever want to, come off anon/send me things!! that goes for anyone really. im very down to read ur stuff and pump u up if i have the time to!! (and give feedback, but only if you want it :))

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lightns881 · 3 years ago

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AL question: is george gonna get any more powerful? i found it a bit odd that so many people could block out his telepathy despite him being a level IV psychic, and ig with dream i understand bc of ~dnf~ reasons. but so many other characters can too??? it could also just be because he's had like zero training but idk. also i just think it'd be pretty badass if george was like mega-powerful, but that'd kinda ruin the whole plot lmao. OOH ALSO [cue rant] i had always wondered: why are psychics so feared in this world???? can't most only just levitate shit and maybe slightly be able to read people's minds???? but then you mentioned something about george flying and i got confused, so i did a ton of research (bc im a nerd), specifically about telekinesis/telepathy, and i found out that THEY ARE SO FUCKING COOL????? HELLO?????? i found this like whole wiki page about telekinesis (i totally recommend you check it out it's awesome) and let me tell you, i was FLABBERGASTED. LIKE HOLY SHIT???? GEORGE COULD POTENTIALLY WARP REALITY OR BECOME FUCKING IMMORTAL IF HE WANTED TO, IS THAT NOT THE COOLEST?????? now ofc, i have no idea how powerful you're gonna make george, and this not me trying to convince you to change your story. obviously you're the author here, i'm merely just an excited reader. BUT HOLY SHIT TELEKINESIS IS NOT TO BE FUCKED WITH (and neither is george for that matter). anyways yea, i hope you enjoyed my massive rant. i usually only get this excited abt stuff when i'm blown away by its quality, so keep up that amazing work! <3

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED ANON

The answer is a resounding: YES! It's not so much that he's going to get more powerful but that he's going to gain more control of his abilities. The whole thing about superpowers is often that even if someone might have a lot of power, it doesn't necessarily mean they can channel it. The more power you have, the harder it is to use in a stable manner. Think of it in terms of skill. More skill means you apply it to more things and in different ways—ballet at a beginners level isn't an intensive as professional ballet, etc. Type I Psychics only levitate things, and that's basically it for more Psychics. And if you think about it, you're right. They're not as dangerous as they're made out to be, but ultimately, discrimination doesn't necessarily revolve around logic. Throughout history, humans have outcasted groups of people for reasons that make no sense all solely to have a power dynamic that makes them most powerful. Essentially, it boils down to human psychology, but before I go off, I'll just let the story speak for itself because there will be a lot more of that in Elysium :] I'm a huge psychology nerd aha!

And in terms of the superhero wikia (and the many variants) which I know what you're talking about since it is where I go to for all my superpower info needs, I've been using it since I started this universe back when I was like 15 lmaooo! I LOVE IT!!! I can't say that all the powers are the same because a lot of times it boils down to adaptation. The EM universe doesn't portray as crazy as some of the powers in the wiki, but it's a great source to use when looking for inspiration on how to come up with what kind of powers you want to incorporate into the world, etc. It makes me so happy to you took the time to look into it! I am a HUGE superhero nerd! X-men, Teen Titans, MCU, Arrowverse, DCU shows—I've had hyperfixations everywhere so I just kind of bundled up all my knowledge into a Thanos-level glove to use when I can for the EM universe because it's my baby. Though if I were to compare it, I'd fall most closely related to the X-men because they dealt with a lot of discrimination-based things that to young me was FASCINATING. It's why this universe basically revolves around it since human nature has always been the most fascinating thing to me. Man, I love psychology. Anyway, sorry for the rant, you got me very excited.

Super pumped to share the first chapter of Elysium on December 24th!!! Thank you for the ask and for making me smile and giggle so hard so early in the morning haha! <3

#AMA #extramundane universe #aethers legacy #elysium #dnf

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wolfsgravity · 3 years ago

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I can’t sleep so I’m just thinkin’ about my range of Pokémon romantic F/Os. This series has meant so much to me for so long, and I know F/Os from that source make up a decent portion of my list. I’d feel more embarrassed about it if I didn’t make it abundantly clear that Pokémon is one of the most pervasive influences in my life from an exceedingly young age.

I just. I dunno. I find my collection of Pokémon series F/Os so interesting.

I’m just gonna ramble a bit.

I’m going to talk in Generational order, because my 1am brain couldn’t decipher a more cohesive timeline if it tried.

Giovanni is a funny one. As a kid, his character in the show intimidated me a little. But I really loved Team Rocket on some level. They were my first Pokémon villain organization, and with the Gen III games having Aqua and Magma, I decided pretty early that Team Rocket was my team. I had a stint in Magma since when I was young, I thought I’d specialize in Fire types, but eh it didn’t stick. No team really stuck nearly as much until Team Skull! So I had a lot of time for my intimidation from Giovanni to evolve into a fearful respect, to a mild devotion… by the time I played Let’s Go! and Ultra Moon, I was more than a little excited to see him in game. As in, I would quietly cheer when he appeared on my screen, in some weird giddy manner. It was only a matter of time before I realized I was crushing hard.

Steven Stone (he has a full name so more often than not I use it when referring to him) probably didn’t make the biggest impact on me in the original Gen III games? Hoenn was my favorite region for a while (in part due to pre- “Hoenn confirmed” hype), but he didn’t have a huge role in Ruby/Sapphire. Maybe I noticed him first in Emerald? I wish I could remember my real first inkling of crush on him, because I just remember when I played Omega Ruby… I was already obsessed with him. He showed up for the first time in game and I squealed. I spent the whole game seeking him out and already making romantic passes at him in my around-19-year-old head.

I am counting Grovyle for this, but it bears repeating that my S/I for the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon games is a Pokémon too. Those Mystery Dungeon games enamored me as a teen! I got to BE! A POKEMON!! So I probably got Explorers of Time/Darkness for DS not long after it released in 2008. I was so excited to have Gen IV Pokémon to be and battle and recruit, ugh, this game meant so much to me. I will always remember being part of Wigglytuff’s Guild super fondly. And like, as I am super susceptible to mental role play, putting myself in my characters shoes (or lil toe beans I guess) has always been second nature for me. So a dashing Grovyle just jumped into my silly life and was the most honorable and misunderstood character and I am not even joking when I say I fell for him in my first playthrough. And I’ve played through it a lot. I was always jealous of Celebi. I hate every Dusknoir I see to this day. *chefs kiss* Good game.

Gen V is “oops all F/Os” Gen, where to even start..

Just kidding, N is the obvious choice to start for me. He was love at first sight. He just, ugh, he cares about Pokémon SO MUCH. I literally don’t know how to even expand on this. He literally rode the Ferris Wheel with the player character in the game, and I WASNT supposed to interpret that as a date? Wack. It was a date. I love him so damn much. Next question

Elesa comes next because I’ve always thought she was stunning. I mean, duh I guess, she’s canonically a model. Also, Electric types are in my top 3, behind Fairy and somewhat tied with Fire, so she was a woman after my own heart. Her Emolga kinda wrecked my team and I respect that. Also, she loves puns. So again. Woman after my own heart. The only reason she’s still listed as Crush and not as Dating is because she intimidates me. She’s out of my league and I worry she’d only see me as a friend. Well, not “only”, her and Skyla are bffs and that also looks fun. I just. Can’t imagine her romantically being interested in me sometimes. Heh.

Grimsley was a crush that came on yeeeaaaars after his Gen, and it hit me like a freight train. I swear, he made very little impression on me in B/W, because I was young and I was just excited to possibly see N again as champion. I was a little shit, okay. I also never played B2/W2 all the way through, which is a huge stain on my Pokémon record. Anyways. When he showed up in Sun/Moon, I gasped. I was like, that’s a familiar face. Why is he hot now? (The answer is we was always hot, and I just had a few years to grow between games). But like, I kind of tamped it back down? I think I legit tried to tell myself around Sun/Moon era that I can’t keep finding Pokémon characters hot, because I was drooling over another one in Moon. Anywho. Grimsley kept popping up as fanart on my Tumblr dash for a while and by the time I pulled him in Pokémon Masters, I slipped into love. Whoops.

Professor Sycamore, probably not my proudest moment of fandom. He was another one I liked from the very introduction. I made fun of him in equal measure, but I affectionately referred to him as “Professor Hotdad” for an embarrassingly long amount of time. He’s not even the oldest of my Pokémon F/Os. One of my other Pokémon F/Os is canonically a father. But nope. Sycamore was Hotdad. That all said, he did make me smile like a crush-stricken schoolgirl when he talked in game so it wasn’t all just memey objectification. I do love him dearly.

Gen VII! Alola! Guzma! Oh man, like I’d stated earlier, Team Skull really nestled it’s way close to my heart the way no team had since Team Rocket. It wasn’t all because of Guzma, I really did like the group of ragtag misfits banding together and creating a family. Guzma was icing on the cake. Oh boy, he made my heart do funny little flips even when he was threatening me in game. I loved his design, I loved his character, the way he talked, I just. Ugh, I was down bad for ya boy in Moon and Ultra Moon. He’s actually the inspiration behind my main blog url: its-ya-boi-remington. The “Y’all are stupid!” line and face lives in my head rent free at all times. Guzma protection squad.

(Nanu isn’t a romantic so I won’t talk about him here, just know I’m not forgetting him!)

Leon was, believe it or not, my actual first Gen VIII crush. I saw that fashion disaster and felt a warm comfort from him. It didn’t help that I mentally read every character in Galar with some UK/British Isles accent, that sweetened the deal. I was actually gushing to a couple then-friends about Leon while we all played Sword/Shield together and they kind of mocked me about it. They chided me that Leon “doesn’t bat for my team” and said either of them would have a better chance with him if he were real. So I was a little downtrodden about Leon after that for quite a while. It wasn’t until a couple months ago when suddenly it hit me that A- He’s literally fictional and my version of him can like me regardless of what “team he bats for” and B- I’m nonbinary? So rules get thrown out the window, anyone who likes me is both a miracle and some kind of gay whatever way you spin it. So I let myself warm back up to him, though I’m still a little skittish from before.

Piers, I guess, as awful as it sounds, was initially a crush rebound. Like, don’t get me wrong, I’d have been attracted either way. He’s a musician, a SINGER no less, and has that emo/punk vibe. But he’s also gentle and kind. Swoon. But it helped that I had my crush-feelers out full-force for a cutie in game to obsess over since I was still butthurt about my “friends” killing my crush on Leon. Obsess I did, and continue to do. I could probably snap this man over my knee like firewood he’s so lanky, idk why I put that in here but it’s staying. Piers is the one I most imagine jamming out with on a regular basis, and it makes performing for no one a bit more fun 🥰

I’m finally getting tired, I feel like I’ve been typing this for an hour. I probably have been. Ah geez now I gotta tag all these F/Os lmao. Thanks for letting me ramble.

#all my Pokémon romantic ships ahoy #ship: darkpoppunk #ship: it’s ya bois #ship: despite being french #ship: natural number one #ship: da boss’s favorite #ship: she’s electrifyin #ship: taking a gamble on you #ship: I got lost in your eyes #ship: time stops for you

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doing-all-write · 5 years ago

Text

don’t be a baby part 2

Pairing: Billy x Fem!Reader

Summary: After losing Billy, Reader doesn’t know what to do with herself. After receiving some news about a millionaire who’s been murdering people, she convinces Billy’s old Sky Walker crew to train her so she can take him down. But the mission doesn’t go as planned and suddenly, there’s a man offering her a position on an elite team...

Read part 1 HERE

Word Count: 14K

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fight sequences, needles, mentions of smut and talk of depression.

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY AND HERE IT IS!!! Part two of don’t be a baby!! Thank you all so so much for your patience, I wanted to be sure this story was perfect and I hope all love it! Once again, a HUGE thank you to @itsabenthing who is always a wonderful source of inspiration and helps to keep me on track and to @mrhoemazzello for hyping me up at all times and for letting me bounce ideas off her!! And don’t worry...there will be a third part 😉

💖💖As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 💖💖

365 days.

That's not a long time.

A year on Neptune is the equivalent of 164 years on Earth. Bowhead whales can live up to 200 years. The Methuselah tree is 4,700 years old.

365 days is nothing.

What's one lousy year in the grand scheme of things?

Compared to one day.

24 hours to have your whole world ripped out from underneath you. To believe that up is down and down is up. To feel your feet leave the earth as you pitch forward into a tunnel where time passes both far too quickly and not quickly enough.

One 30 second phone call can feel like the longest thing in the world.

To some, 365 days may not feel all that long, but to others?

365 days is far too long.

~One Month After the Funeral~

“(Y/N)? It’s me. You doing okay?” Mark winced when he realized how dumb that question was.

Setting the bags of food down on the kitchen table, he opened the fridge. His heart clenched when he saw the food he had put there a week ago sitting untouched.

It had been the worst right after the funeral. When he came over on the days following the funeral she would be in the same clothes he had last seen her in, staring at the wall or ceiling. On good days her cheeks would be dry, on bad days? The tears would soak her pillow case.

He had nicked Mary, Billy’s sister’s, number from (Y/N)’s phone. Figuring that Mary may have some professional resources she could recommend to get (Y/N) the help she desperately needed to pick herself back up.

After a few weeks of her catatonic state, she started moving more. But it was almost worse. She was like a zombie.

He’d tell her maybe she should shower or eat and in slow robotic movements she’d do what he asked, then crawl back into bed. Eyes empty. Flat.

The passivity broke his heart.

There hadn’t been a time when Mark and (Y/N) had been growing up when she wasn’t passionate about something. When that familiar light in her eyes had burned bright.

Without it, it felt like looking at a mannequin of his sister.

Sighing, he loaded the new food into her fridge. Taking the old stuff out he figured, if it wasn’t moldy, he could feed it to Jean, who was like a human garbage disposal. He claimed grief made him starving.

As Mark stood up, he faced the bedroom door and felt his shoulders slump forward. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side and he didn’t want to see it. He knew he was a coward but part of him just wanted to walk out the front door and pretend that his sister was on the other side, totally fine, she was just sleeping and he’d come back next week and she’d greet him with a smile and a hug.

Something he hadn’t seen in, well, in a month.

Feeling his shoulders creep up towards his ears as he stood outside her bedroom door, he made a conscious effort to relax them.

“Hey, (Y/N), you awake?”

Nudging the door open, he peered into her room, taking stock of it. It looked exactly the same as last time he had checked on her. The soft rise and fall of her side underneath her blanket the only movement. Taking a moment to capture how serene she looked, he quietly closed the door behind him, taking a minute to send up a plea that he would do anything, anything, for his sister if it just meant that one day he’d see her up and out of her bed.

A buzzing by her ear woke her up. Groaning, she slapped her hand around the bed, trying in vain to stay semi-unconscious. The buzzing came faster, one right after the other, reminding her of how her phone had acted the day Billy’d died. Heart dropping through the floorboards, her eyes flew open.

Sitting up and shoving the blankets back in one quick motion only caused her to hear a loud thud. Cursing, she crawled over to the edge, allowing her top half to go limp as her bottom half stayed put on her bed.

Pushing her hair back with one hand she turned her phone over to see what was happening. News alert after news alert was scrolling in. They all said the same thing,

Local Billionaire Accused of Dumping Toxic Waste in Ocean.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she read the remainder of the story. There was something tugging at her subconscious as she read. This billionaire, Chase Casewell, had a reputation for being a real prick and after using his family's money to get through business school and have his first idea fail (an app that told Influencers when the best time to post would be) he had made his millions by starting a brand that specialized in shoes, ugly beige monstrosities if she remembered correctly.

It had just come out that he had instructed the plants that made his shoes to dump the waste into the ocean. The chemicals they’d used had poisoned the water supply, causing the fish to become infected with the chemicals. Then, the local fisherman would catch the fish, take them home to their families, eat them, then the fishermen and their families would end up in the hospital.

Her hospital.

She sat bolt upright as she remembered the string of mysterious illnesses that had ended up in her ward a few weeks before she had met Billy that first time. If the victims were lucky, they ended up puking their guts out for a few days and, after being hooked up to an IV to re-hydrate, she’d send them on their way.

Others would linger for a few days then quietly slip away. The chemicals flowing through their bloodstream till their veins ran thick with poison, where it finally creeped up to their heart where the poisons would wrap themselves around their most vital organ. Suffocating it until it gave out entirely.

The one that had affected her the most was Isabella, a small girl with dark braids and a love of Frozen. The only thing that’d make her smile was when (Y/N) would come in with a stuffed Olaf and have him ask her for a warm hug. She had been holding this little girl's hand, watching Frozen when her heart just...gave out.

She had gone to the funeral but shame and guilt burned bright inside till she felt like there was a beacon surrounding her, letting everyone at the funeral know it was her fault that Isabella had passed away.

As the pieces clicked together in her mind she felt an inferno roar to life inside her. It burned away the sadness and despair she’d been wallowing in ever since Billy left only to leave behind rage and guilt. The emotions boiled in her stomach, bile climbing up her throat as she stumbled to the bathroom

Collapsing over the toilet, heaving and retching, she knew nothing was coming up but her body worked overtime to expunge the horror she felt in any way it could. Her body spasming as waves of emotions crashed through her system.

Several minutes passed till she finally felt the nausea start to ebb. Slumping against the wall, she hung her head over the toilet as she took steadying breaths, making sure that her body wasn’t going to rebel again.

When she lifted her head, she had made a decision.

"Alrigh', alrigh' I'm coming. Quite your bloody knocking you crazy-"

Jean's rant was cut short when he saw (Y/N) on the other side of the door decked out in black athletic gear, hair pulled back in a tight braid. Jean's eyes widened as he made contact with her own eyes. A fire could get started with the steely glint that was reflected back at him.

"I need you to train me."

"T-train you?" Jean's hands were instantly coated in sweat as he contemplated what she was talking about.

"Yes. Like how you trained Billy and Mark. Train me to be a Sky Walker. I can do this."

Jean rubbed a hand down his face, "(Y/N)...it's late. Maybe we should sleep on this-"

"NO." That one word leapt from her throat in a growl, causing Jean to step back, half shutting the door. Slamming her hand against the door she switched tactics, "Please Jean. There's this prick who's dumping toxic waste into the ocean. So many people were sick and at my hospital because of him." Swallowing thickly, her eyes grew unfocused, "They died...under my watch."

Jean's shoulders slumped at that admission. With Billy’s death overshadowing everything, he forgot that in her line of work she saw more sickness and death than even he had seen.

But this was the first time since the funeral that he had seen her up and moving. It was the first time that her eyes held any sort of emotion. He couldn’t bear to be the one that extinguished it. He couldn’t do that to her. Or to Mark.

Heaving a sigh he flung his hands up, "Fine. We start in the morning,” Her eyes widened and a small smile crept across her face as she stepped forward into his apartment until he held a hand out to stop her, “Now let me go back to sleep so I don't pass out on you mid training session and we both die."

~Three Months After the Funeral~

Are you ready for it?

The bass thumped through her headphones, as her fists made contact with the punching bag in front of her in time to the beat. Staying light on her toes, she bounded back and forth, jabbing, punching, upper cutting, swaying in and out as she danced around the bag.

She had been here for hours. The 24-hour gym had cleared out earlier, now it was just her and other people who couldn't sleep or worked weird hours.

As the last line of the song faded she put her hands on her hips, pacing over to her backpack.

Rooting through it, she located her water bottle, taking long pulls from it as her heart beat slowed down.

Boxing had been one of the only things that was able to take her mind off of, well, everything.

That and running. Everyone and their mother had told her to try yoga after they’d heard what happened, telling her it would help to "quiet her mind" but the more time she spent sitting still, the more she could feel Billy's hand slipping from hers as he walked out of her apartment for the last time.

She gave it up when a panic attack had taken over her system in downward dog.

Activities that let her be alone, that let her get her aggression out, were the most beneficial.

Plus, it helped with the Sky Walker training she’d been receiving from Mark and Jean.

After she’d shown up at Jean’s door that night, she arrived on his doorstep bright and early the next morning, knowing that she’d have to knock extra loud to make sure Jean actually woke up. Which is why it shocked her that before she could even knock on the door, Jean had swung it open to reveal him and Mark standing in front of her, looking for all the world like two parents ready to scold their child for staying out past curfew.

Smirking she shrugged, “Sorry I missed curfew.”

Mark’s mouth twitched and she knew that, with him at least, she was off the hook.

They had sat her down, gone over basic safety information, how they practiced moves on the ground first so they could get comfortable executing them and then took them up into the air.

Mark’s heart broke at how alert and interested she was. It was the first time in months he saw her engage with others and it killed him that this was what it was taking to bring her back from the brink.

Ever since then, she had been training with them to prepare for this mission, to learn the necessary skills she’d need to break in, to keep herself alive. She had convinced Mark and Jean that the plan she had for Chase was a one-woman job. She told them that if she couldn’t pick up on everything in six months then she would let one of them help her on this mission.

But she knew she wouldn’t need their help. When Mark and Jean taught her how to fight, how to dodge opponents, how to protect herself in a fight, her Nurse Brain kicked into high gear.

When they’d break down certain tricks she was able to picture the exact muscles, ligaments and bones that would need to be strengthened, how they would need to move to be able to complete the move perfectly.

She was even able to break down fight sequences just from observing her opponents moves. Looking at how certain muscles tensed, what foot they’d lead with, how their fist was turned, it all helped her get the upper hand in any fight.

Knowing pressure points and which joints were the weakest were an added benefit during these training sessions.

(After she almost dislocated Jean’s knee, he had limped away, bellowing about how she needed to seriously remember who the enemy was and it “bloody well isn’t me! I like the ocean! I’ve never even been to Sea World, that’s how much I like the ocean!”

All of it added up to her progressing in her training more rapidly than Mark or Jean felt comfortable with.

They couldn’t help being impressed though. She was mastering moves that had taken them years to nail down. But she took to it with a single-minded determinism that worried them, especially Jean.

Training was all (Y/N) cared or wanted to talk about. Mark told him that she’d started working out at all hours. Lifting, running and boxing being the newest activity she had added to her repertoire and while he felt it was a smart move, he couldn’t help but be worried. Every time she was training, he’d seen a fatalistic look in her eyes. It was a look he was all too familiar with, it was a common look in Sky Walkers. But those individuals were always the highest risk cases.

Those were the Sky Walkers who didn't value their own safety. They kept pushing and pushing until mortality pushed back and said, You want to keep going? Fine. You pushed too far and now I'm going to punish you.

The worst part was, in his experience, there was no use trying to tell those individuals to slow down. They inevitably sped up to spite the person who told them to slow down. Jean didn't want Mark to lose his sister too.

After a particularly intense training session, he hesitantly brought it up to Mark who only snorted,

"I already lost her."

"What do you mean?"

Mark shot him an incredulous stare, "You're kidding right? You've seen how much she's changed since Billy left. That's not my sister. I still hope like hell (Y/N)'s underneath this new exterior but...I don't know who this new woman is. And frankly, I don’t want to know who she is.”

She hadn’t told Mark but she’d heard him say that. She knew she wasn’t the same woman but this was the one thing in her life that had made her feel alive since the funeral. She didn’t want to give it up.

They’re just going to have to get used to it. She thought as she unwrapped the bright pink wraps from her hands. Rooting through her backpack, she made sure she had everything. Slinging her bag over her shoulders, she queued up her running playlist.

Striding toward the front door she gave the obligatory head nod to all the members still in the facility.

Shoving the door open, the wind that had buffeted the building all night slapped her in the face. Eyes tearing up, she adjusted the straps of her backpack, hit play and started to jog back to her apartment.

Demons!

Come on!

You've got a vision,

You're on a mission!

~~~

He almost missed her.

The all black clothing she had taken to wearing, combined with how the last vestiges of red in the sky were quickly being overrun by the inky black of the night sky made him worried she’d left without him realizing.

Seeing the door open, light spilling out and illuminating her form, he breathed a sigh of relief. Watching her jog off into the night, he leapt up from his crouched position on the building next door to the gym.

Giving (Y/N) a head start, he waited a few beats before taking off after her. Keeping her in his sight but sticking close to the shadows. Every time he saw a form approaching her, he put on a fresh burst of speed; anxiety spiking through his blood at the prospect of her getting in harm's way helping him to power through. After they passed without incident, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He had done this for a few nights now.

One had told him they wouldn't head out to HQ for a while, something about needing to wrap things up but he didn't question it. It gave him time to check on her.

Recently, he was getting nervous that she had started to...he hated sounding like a hippie but...she had started to sense his presence.

Like their souls burned too brightly together so the universe made it so they would never be lost in the dark as long as they were near each other’s light.

A few weeks ago, he had been following her to her apartment after she left Mark and Jean's. He had been wearing all black, a few feet away, on the roof of a building far above her.

She had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, tilted her head up and stared right where Billy had been standing. He’d dropped like a rock to the concrete floor of the roof, trying to stifle his breathing, which after almost passing out, realized would be insane if she could hear that.

There had been several other times where there was no possible way (Y/N) should have been able to tell where he was and yet...

She'd look up, right in the direction of where he was and every time, he sent out a plea, See me. Please. Know that I'm here. That I love you. That I never wanted to leave you. Just, please.

Please don't think I broke my promise.

~Seven Months After the Funeral~

She thought the knuckles on her hand were going to pop out of her skin.

Clenching the steering wheel, she chastised herself for making this process so exceedingly difficult.

Just let go of the wheel. She scolded herself, Release your finger. Just the pinky finger. It won't be too hard. C'mon, don't be a-

She cut that thought off quickly.

Too many memories weighed down four little words and if she wasn't careful, they would drag her into the inky blackness of depression. She couldn't risk it. Not with a mission coming up.

The breath leaving her mouth shuddered out of her like the wind through an old house. Her chest felt too tight, like each breath made her lungs smaller, not bigger.

This isn't how he'd want to see you.

Like a flash of lightning, the thought illuminated everything and for a second, the world was crystal clear. Her fingers slipped from the wheel only to land dully in her lap, where they curled in on themselves so they looked like dead bugs.

Snorting, she figured it would be appropriate they looked like dead bugs considering she was in a cemetery.

Sun shining down, the sky a cloudless blue, made it impossible to not think of his eyes and how they had looked at her in the full light of day. That one day they’d had together.

Those perfect 24 hours.

Funny how time constricts and bends so some events pass in the blink of an eye while others pass by like a train at a train crossing when you're running late to work.

Shaking her head, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. The darkness was a welcome reprieve. But not always.

Sleep had become the bogey man at the end of her bed. Sleeping wasn't a relaxing activity, it was prey she had to stalk and take down before it could get her. It wasn't that there were so many nightmares plaguing her, it was just one nightmare.

It was horrible enough that most nights, she didn't even fully fall asleep, it was more like a deep meditative state. The thought that that one nightmare could overwhelm her was enough to make her not want to sleep ever again. The first time the nightmare came to her was a week after his funeral:

Fog would be swirling around her, swallowing up everything in her path. Taking hesitant steps forward, Billy's form would become clearer as she moved forward. Her heart beat speeding up as she saw Billy peering over the edge of the building.

Suddenly, realization would crash into her like a train. This wasn't just any building. This was the building that Billy had last been seen running across. Knowing that there was nothing on the other side, she would rush forward to warn him, to pull him back, to crush his body to hers and never let him go.

She needed to warn him, to save him. But no matter how fast she pumped her legs, Billy stayed the same distance away. His legs would tense and that's when she'd start screaming. Her vocal cords stretched to their breaking point as she rushed towards him. But before she could reach him, he'd leap into the air, disappear into the fog and...

That's when she'd wake up. Face wet with tears, the last of her screams dying in her throat.

She always screamed the same thing.

Billy! Stay!

The first few times she hadn't realized she was actually screaming those words aloud until a neighbor of hers knocked on her door, asking her if she was okay.

She never knew how to answer that question.

It was such an odd one. Mark and Jean asked her that all the time. Whenever they did, she'd grit her teeth and spit out that she was fine because how else was she supposed to answer that question?

"Actually Mark, Jean, I'm so glad you asked because I'm not okay and I probably never will be again because the only man I ever loved and trusted, up and broke said trust! Oh, and did I also mention he's dead?"

That's how she wanted to answer their asinine question but by the time she felt like she could get those words out, most people had moved on from Billy. Because people always do.

But not her.

Though, it hadn't taken long for her to want to sleep with someone else. She figured it would help her heal.

At the very least provide a necessary distraction.

It was always the same.

Normally, they'd lock eyes across the bar. Raising her glass of scotch she got every time she went to the same bar with the sticky floors, burnt out bulbs and rickety chairs, she'd lift it towards him in a kind of salute. When he'd smirk back and do the same, she'd quirk an eyebrow only to throw back the drink in one go. The thud of glass on wood signaling to the bartender to pour her another.

Nine times out of ten, their eyes would immediately become hooded with lust (every now and again, one would take a drink at the same time and choke on his own drink at the action.) A smirk would play across his lips as he'd bring his own glass to his lips and drain it in one go.

Men. God forbid a woman out do them in anything. She always thought ruefully as she'd watch her next victim unfold themselves from the bar stool they were seated on to slip into the empty seat next to her.

There were rules. She refused to sleep with blondes. She had one time. She had moaned out Billy's name and immediately started crying. When the man with her had tried to comfort her she had pushed him away, screaming at him to get out of her apartment.

The other rule was, no sleepovers. Having men sleep over usually meant they overstayed their welcome and she didn't want them getting comfortable anymore than she wanted to spend the night in a bed that wasn't hers.

Once the rules had been established, it was the same shit with a slightly different dude. They'd engage in flirty banter, a well-timed arm touch, a glance up at him through her lashes, one more drink and then they'd be in the back of a Lyft, hands everywhere, and then a few hours later she'd be back in a Lyft (one time, the same Lyft driver who had dropped them off had picked her up, alone, offering a hive five as she got out of the car) to go back to her apartment.

Alone.

Most nights she wondered why she did it. Why she was constantly hunting for that same jolt of electricity that she’d had with Billy. Every time her encounters ended, she always wondered what the point of doing this was. Why did she bother when every man she interacted with came up hilariously short?

She had tried to make it work, to forget him, but the entire time some man would be kissing her, caressing her, touching her, there was always a part of her that was thinking of another man's tattooed, calloused hands on her body.

A rap on the window caused her to jump, clenching her hands back into fists as Mark waved, sheepishly, at her from the other side of the glass. The flowers grasped in his fist swayed in the breeze.

Stepping out of her car, Mark moved to hug her. Holding out her hand to stop him she growled, "I'm already on edge. Don't make it worse." Striding around him and towards the plot of land where the box that Billy was supposed to be in laid dormant under the soil.

A place holder.

Nothing more.

Mark's shoulders sank as he watched her go. Physical contact had been difficult for her since Billy had gone. It was small, but he noticed. Every time he pulled her into a hug when she showed up at training, she'd stiffen, then it turned into her barely reciprocating until she refused them altogether. It made his heart ache, she used to hug everyone no matter if they had known each forever or four minutes.

But then again, she'd just become more withdrawn in general. It broke his heart to see it. Watching her light fade and dim, it was like a star becoming a black hole.

Crunching through the sun dried grass toward the plot, she kept her head down, barreling towards her destination. Figuring that if she walked faster, she could outpace her thoughts before they could catch up with her and the realization of where she was and where she was headed could crush her.

This was the first time they were visiting Billy's grave since she’d started training to become a Sky Walker. Mark and Jean had tried to get her to go sooner but it hadn't been until Mary asked (Y/N) if she would meet her there did she finally acquiesce.

The only memory she had of Mary was after the funeral. Watching Mary and her mother walk arm in arm back to their car, their shared grief following them like a cloud.

At that moment, (Y/N) had envied them. They had each other. Their shared love for Billy would be a balm, it would help them try to heal. She only had herself and her memories. Neither of which were particularly warm or comforting at the moment.

"Whoa, easy." Two hands wrapped around her biceps, bringing her to an abrupt stop.

Looking up, she was met with the same sky blue eyes that Billy had, framed by lashes that were almost as long as Billy's. Blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, Mary smiled ruefully at her, "Just trying to get this over with huh?"

Forcing herself to swallow over the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, she nodded wordlessly. Mary's eyes took in her form, noting how her clothes seemed to hang on her, the dull, flinty look her eyes had. Mutely, she linked her arm through (Y/N)'s, pulling her into her side.

Taking a deep breath, they both turned to look at the headstone in front of them. Seeing his name carved into stone caused her heart to speed up. Scolding herself for being so silly for getting twitter-patted over his name. What was she, fourteen?

But she couldn't help it.

"It's weird."

Humming in acknowledgment, (Y/N) didn't know if Mary meant them being here together, the fact that her brother was dead or just the world in general.

"It's weird that that little line," Mary gestured toward the line in between the numbers that marked when he had been born and when he died, "is supposed to represent his whole life. Everything he said and did. Everyone he loved."

The emotional toll of hearing those words uttered by his sister caused all of the air in (Y/N)'s lungs to leave, her heart to splinter into even tinier parts. Wobbling, she grasped Mary's arm tightly as Mary wound another arm around (Y/N)'s waist to keep her upright.

“(Y/N!) Easy, you okay?"

The weight of Mark's hand on her shoulder helped ground her in reality. Her twisted reality where it wasn't Billy's hand on her shoulder. And it never would be again.

Straightening up, she tugged on the end of her coat, shaking her head, "Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. Just, it's a lot."

Mark nodded, eyes taking in his sisters appearance, trying not to seem too shocked that this was the most she had revealed her feelings to him, to anyone, in the past few weeks.

Locking eyes with Mary's blue ones over top of (Y/N)'s head, he mouthed a quick thank you in which she inclined her head to show she understood.

Mark had been in contact with Mary constantly. First it was getting names of counselors and support groups to help his sister heal, then it turned into them talking and developing a...something. They had developed a relationship that neither were sure what to call but seeing her here caused his heart to flutter.

Feeling (Y/N)’s shoulders rise and fall, he lifted his arm so she could step out from underneath them, "I'll see you guys later."

Opening his mouth, Mark tried to protest but when he felt Mary's hand land on his bicep, he closed it. (Y/N)'s all black form grew to be a small speck on the blue horizon.

He was surprised the whole ground didn't open up to swallow her at that moment. She looked like a specter of death. But he supposed what she really was was worse. She was a casualty of death, and there was no hope for that.

~Nine Months After the Funeral~

A few months of intense training later, after she had executed one of the most difficult tricks Jean and Mark had designed, Jean finally told her she was ready to go after Chase.

"Fucking finally." she groaned, wiping the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt, “I’m going to rinse off and change, then meet me at my apartment!” she yelled over her shoulder as she raced to the locker room.

Jean nodded and several minutes later, hair still damp, raised a fist to knock on her front door. Before he could knock, the door swung open to reveal her laptop open and her kitchen table covered with charts, maps and blueprints of Chase’s compound.

“What took you so long?”

Jean whistled as he took it all in, "When did you do this?"

"When I first read that news article about Chase. So..here's what I'm thinking." Laying out her plan, Jean couldn't help feeling impressed. It was foolproof. He was also relieved that all she wanted was to bring Chase to justice, share his personal files with the government and the entire Internet so she could expose him then get the hell out of there.

As she laid out the plan she was careful not to mention how much Chase needed to pay for all the lives he took with his negligence and selfishness. She kept emotion out of her tone, just the facts, as she walked Jean through her plan to bring Chase to justice.

But she knew justice wouldn’t be enough.

Justice was never enough for people like that. Because the rules of justice were skewed so men like that always got off scot free. In her heart of hearts, she knew it didn’t matter if she leaked every atrocious thing he’d ever done. He'd be back out in the public eye in a few years and no one would bat an eyelash because he had money, power and privilege. The three most essential ingredients to make any good villain.

She wouldn't be able to live with herself if this man was able to walk away. If she didn't do right by Isabella, she didn't know how she'd be able to continue living with herself.

"From there, I'll get the files, download them to the flash drive, hack into the mainframe, deposit them there and then get the hell out. Minimal damage, minimal casualties, maximum impact."

"That's how most people describe having sex with me."

"I don't have time to unpack how distressing all of that is right now but, what do you think? Is it doable? And will you and Mark help me?"

Jean's eyes scanned the blueprints before him. He saw how her fingers were beating an erratic beat on her thighs, how her feet constantly shifted as if she wanted to take off in a million directions at once. This was the most animated he'd seen her in weeks. He knew this may be their only chance to really get her settled, let her burn off some steam with a mission and then they could get her back to her old self.

Heaving a giant sigh, he hung his head down, "Fucking fine. We'll do it. BUT," his head snapped up and almost felt bad when he saw the smile that had slipped across her face fade. Almost. "You listen to us. Mark and I have final say in all of this. Got it? We've done this before and while you'll be the one in the field, we have markedly more experience so let us do what we do best. Got it?"

He stuck out his hand for her to shake. Her (Y/E/C) eyes flitted over his features, seeing if he'd break or if he was just pulling her leg. When she saw nothing but sincerity looking back at her, she slipped her hand into his. "Deal."

Jean almost started crying when a sparkle caught his eye, her thumb had a final bit of pink sparkly nail polish on it, making him wonder if he had made a terrible mistake.

~A Week Later~

"I'm in."

Part of her always cringed whenever she said those two words. She couldn't help but think of a shaggy haired, pre-pubescent 12-year old, huddled over their laptop, fingers clacking frantically, the glow of their computer screen the only thing illuminating the Mountain Dew bottles surrounding them.

But, it just came with the job she supposed.

Creeping along the hall, she checked over her shoulder. Feeling the familiar flutter of adrenaline spike in her stomach, she reached for the package that was hidden in her pocket. As her fingers brushed over its cylindrical shape she felt her shoulders relax. Then, she moved her hand down further to make sure the knife she’d strapped to her thigh was still firmly in place, that really helped her to relax.

She quickly sent up a thank you to Cassandra, wherever she was, for leaving her knife sharpening kit at Mark’s place. The linoleum underneath her feet reflected the dim red light that ran along the length of the hallway.

"In 20 feet you're going to reach the checkpoint. Remember, there's a big ass-"

"Grid of invisible wires, yeah yeah. I know, Jean. We went over this a million times."

"Well, with how little you pay attention during those meetings I'm surprised you can even remember the address."

"How about you shut the fuck up and let me do my damn job?" she snarled into her comms.

Blocks away, Jean ripped his headset off to shake his head at Mark who just sighed, eyes never leaving the computer screen where his sisters grainy form was seen lurking towards the wire netting, "I know, dude. I know."

"Fucking Billy. If only he hadn't-"

"Jean. Please. We all still wish he was here. Don't make it harder."

Huffing out a breath, Jean turned back to the keyboard, shoving his headphones back into place as he deactivated the alarms to the rooms (Y/N) needed to get in to.

Throwing a strand of her hair into the hallway, she nodded when it settled to the floor without getting zapped.

"You really don't trust me, do you (Y/N)?

"I trust you, I just don't trust the security protocols in this place. A fortress like this has to have backups of the backups."

"Bitch! That's why we're here!"

Snorting at how high Jean's tone had gotten, she continued prowling toward the door that led into Chase’s inner sanctum. He didn't let anyone but a select few into the room that was waiting for her at the end of the hallway. It was where he kept all of his documents, where he entertained foreign emissaries and got them to sign off on him dumping his toxic waste in the water because who cared about people's health when he could make a few more dollars?

Shaking her head to straighten her brain out, she took a deep breath as she tread closer to the intimidating mahogany door that loomed before her.

Glancing down, she saw the pad to the left of the door, they needed a retinal scan to get in. She waited as from miles away, Mark's hands were flying over the keyboard as he worked his magic. Using a close up image of Chase's eye they had captured a few weeks ago, he embedded it into the code for the lock. When it lit up green she smirked, "Thanks, big brother."

"Don't thank me yet. Expose that fucking loser and come home safely. Then we can talk."

Nudging the door open, she made a beeline for the imposing white desk in front of the picture window looking out over, ironically, the ocean. Rolling her eyes, she briskly walked over to his computer. Fingers gliding over the keys, fishing around in the pocket of her black athletic leggings, she cursed, "Why the FUCK do women's pockets always have to be so small."

"It's just another way for the patriarchy to keep you down. Hard on, sister."

Pausing in her actions, she raised her eyes up, fixing on a distant point as she opened and closed her mouth, ready to correct Jean when Mark's voice rang through her comms, "He's got the right spirit. Just let him have this."

Shrugging, she bent down to the task at hand, inserting the USB, opening up files and dumping them onto the Internet and sending them to the entire UN Embassy, every government official, Greenpeace and the whole world to condemn this monster.

As she finished uploading the last of Chase’s files to the EPA’s mainframe, she heard footsteps approaching.

And right on time.

"Uhh, (Y/N)? Don't mean to alarm you but Chase himself and four armed guards are barreling down on you. Get out the window NOW and meet at the rendezvous point."

Hearing how Mark's voice shook on the last word caused her to pause for a fraction of a second, wondering if she was making the right choice. Like a flash, she shook herself from her stupor and straightened up. Pulling the USB out of the computer she dropped it into her pocket, reaching a finger up to disconnect her comms, "I know. I planned for it. Sorry boys. I’ll see you on the other side" She clicked her comms off just as she heard Jean and Mark start to protest.

Closing her eyes, she rolled her shoulders. Reaching back into her pocket she took out the extra package she’d been carrying and set it on the desk.

Carefully, she extracted the vile and needle that was inside.

When the door burst open, all Chase saw was a woman, silhouetted by moonlight, holding a needle up to the light, tapping it a few times.

"Nice of you to join me, Chase. Won't you sit down?" she murmured.

"Who the fuck are you, you crazy bitch? I have the entire government on my ass, PETA has threatened with more than one lawsuit and the FBI, EPA and other three letter entities aren't far behind to pick me up and haul me off for the rest of my life. So," he stepped to the edge of the desk, slamming his palms down, "I'll ask one more time. Who.The. FUCK. Are. You?"

Watching the last air bubble pop, she smiled. She had never felt so calm in her life and when her eyes dragged from the needle to meet Chase’s, he was surprised to see a serene looking woman staring back at him.

"You killed people. So now I'm going to kill you."

And she lunged forward.

Her hand came down holding the needle, aiming for the largest artery in his neck. Eyes widening, he stumbled back, arms pinwheeling. Knocking the needle from her hand, she watched it twist through the air, the moon reflecting off the glass and then she lost it as it hit the plush carpet without a sound.

She didn't have too much time to think about it because all of a sudden the four men that had come in with Chase were on her.

Leaping onto the desk, she wrapped her thighs around the neck of the man closest to her. Thanking Mark for bullying her into never skipping leg day, she squeezed her legs around his neck as he spun wildly, trying to dislodge her. Hands scrambling at her thighs, he dropped to his knees where she unwound her legs from his shoulders, dropping to the ground and turning in one swift motion, she kneed him in the face, turning to the next man as the one on the floor tried in vain to stop the fountain of blood flowing from his nose.

Another one was right on her as she aimed a punch right to his midsection, hearing an “OOF” leave his mouth, she kicked his legs out from underneath him. As he landed, she raced in between his legs, located his kneecap and with a twist of her wrist, dislocated it with a sharp POP.

With a howl, he rolled around on the ground as the one with the bloody nose limped over to help. Breathing heavily she turned, only to be faced with the other two bearing down on her.

Jesus, she thought, Star Wars always led me to believe the bad guys would come at me one at a time. Not all at once.

It was the last thought she remembered having before she could only focus on trying to make it out alive.

One of the men grabbed her arm, she grabbed his wrist, finding a pressure point and bore down until his fingers loosened around her wrist. Not letting up, she snapped his wrist and kicked him in the groin.

As he slumped to the ground, the other one grabbed her ankle, yanking her leg out from underneath her causing her to face plant into the carpet. Her hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as he dragged her body towards him. Twisting, she reached for her knife. As he reached a hand down toward her throat, she brought it up in one quick motion.

She rolled away as the man screamed in agony as he searched for his missing finger. Scrambling to her feet, she felt something collide with the back of her head. Her vision began to swim as the carpet came up to meet her face once again. She’d forgotten about the first guard who had been attending to the second man she’d taken down. Now, he stood over her, teeth bared, blood still flowing from his nose, gun cocked and aimed right in between her eyes.

"Wait!"

Chase's form became clearer as he knelt down beside her, "You don't deserve to die by a bullet do you?" He cooed as he stroked a finger down her cheek. Turning her head, she tried to snap at his finger but the quick movement caused her to retch.

Laughing softly, she heard the tap of fingernails hitting a glass vile, "You deserve to die by your own little concoction. It’s much more poetic, don't you think?"

He leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her ear as he caressed her arm, rubbing two fingers over the crook of her elbow, "Like Romeo and Juliet but, darling Juliet" she hissed as he stabbed the needle into her arm, "This time, Romeo will live. And he'll win." He pressed the release and she felt a tear leak from her eye when suddenly, the world exploded.

Glass fell over her form like stars falling from the sky as the bright lights of a stealth helicopter illuminated the room. The man with the bloody nose whipped his gun toward the window, firing rapidly but quickly crumpled as someone strode right up to him, and shot him point blank.

Chase scrambled up, hands out in front of him, "What the fuck is this? Are you CIA? FBI? Listen, I have more money than God, I can set you up for the rest of your life. You'll never have to worry-"

A gunshot was the only answer Chase got.

"More than one person can have more money than God, ass-wipe." The figure kicked Chase's body as he walked past him, his form swimming before (Y/N) as the poison leaked into her blood stream, "And besides," he knelt down by her form, fingers searching for a pulse, "I use reusable straws because baby turtles are cute as fuck."

Her head lolled to the side as she used the last bits of her strength to see who her savior was. A man with a rugged face stared back as he moved to crouch behind her, cradling her head in his hands as he yelled to someone behind him to hurry the fuck up.

A second face looked down at her as she felt her eyelids begin to close, the hushed sounds of the man holding her head offering soothing platitudes as she made peace with the fact that she was about to die.

As the second person rifled through the medical bag they had been carrying, hurriedly pulling out instruments, the last thing she heard was the man whispering into her ear, "Come on darling. Hold on for me. Hold on for him."

~Three Days Later~

Bright.

That was her first thought as her eyelids fluttered open and immediately closed upon being assaulted by blinding white light.

For a wild second she thought she had gone to heaven.

"I know what you're thinking. Is this heaven? No. It's not. Because if this were heaven I'd be smoking a fat blunt, drinking the finest gin while lying on a nude beach where no living person could bother me. People like you."

The squeal of chair legs being dragged over the floor caused her to flinch. The voice that spoke was dry, making her wonder if this man ever took anything seriously. And also if he could read minds.

"Pretty good stunts you pulled out there. You learn that shit from watching Black Widow too many times?"

Silence. She tried to keep her breath steady so maybe he would think she was still asleep.

"Sweetheart, I just saw your eyelids crack open a second ago. There's no way in hell you dropped back off to sleep that quickly."

"Shouldn't I be dead?" It felt like her vocal cords were two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. The sound that was expunged from her throat was a dry husk.

"Should be but, like Chase, I have more money than God and a crack team of experts. One of whom happens to know exactly what was in that vial and the antidote for it. You've been stable and asleep for three days now."

He saw her eyebrows twitch, which he figured was the most reaction he would get out of her.

Keeping her eyes closed made it easier to digest the information he was throwing at her and to keep her poker face in tact. The voice sounded familiar to her, but she couldn't place where or when, she’d heard it before.

"Is he-?"

"Dead? Yeah. A half dose of poison most people can come back from, but a bullet right through the skull? Much like Humpty Dumpty, we can't exactly put that back together again."

She felt her lips twitch and scolded herself for letting any emotion show through.

"He deserved it."

"I know. And you deserve to use your skills in a better way." Her body stilled, her breath stopped for a beat and when it resumed, the monologue continued, "I have...fuck I hate sounding like Samuel L. Jackson but I have a team. And we could use someone like you."

Another scraping sound, the soft rustle of fabric moving as the voice sounded like it was coming over her, "Think about it. And I'll contact you. Don't worry. I always keep my promises."

Her hands clenched, the veins popping out as those five words washed over her like a cold shower.

The clenched hands were all the reaction he needed.

Hearing his footsteps get softer she reached a hand down and felt a piece of cardstock brush against her finger tips. When the door closed, she cracked open an eyelid to look down at it, but it was blank.

~~~

Closing the door, One leaned up against the hallway, letting his head knock against the wall of the hospital.

Four had warned him.

But this made things incredibly interesting.

Or difficult. It all depended on how he wanted to view the situation.

And what she wanted.

After the funeral, One’d kept a close eye on Four. He knew what kind of pull love could have over a man. And Four was young. The youngest on the team in age, sure, but he let his feelings get the better of him a lot of the time which made him seem even younger.

Which could be dangerous. And they were already in way too much danger as it was on a daily basis so he needed to nip it in the bud.

Closing his eyes, he thought about the first time he caught Four.

~Two Months Ago~

It had been quiet.

The wind whistled through the various holes that littered the planes, causing sand to get whipped up along with it, tornadoes forming and quickly collapsing.

One had been awake. He rarely slept but he had been in the Case Room, going over some files. Trying to decide what their next mission needed to be when he heard a noise.

Keeping his body still, he strained his ears to see if he would hear it again. When he heard the floor creak, he crept to the door, peering out to see who or what it could possibly be.

Seeing the familiar shape of Four's hoodie, he rolled his eyes. When he saw him creep into the control room, he became suspicious. He knew how tempting the draw was to check on the ones you cared about. But with how emotionally fragile Four had been since he'd joined, he didn't think this was the best idea, but he needed to confirm that’s what he was doing before he blew up on the kid.

Pushing the door open, he walked down the hallway, being careful to tread lightly so as not to alert Four to his presence till he absolutely needed to.

Using his years of training, he placed his body precisely so he could look into the room but Four wouldn't be able to see him should he look around. Which, he didn't think would be an issue. Four was engrossed by the screen in front of him, One didn't think a nuclear explosion would cause him to look up.

Taking his chances, he slunk into the room. Four had footage of an apartment pulled up on the screens. Three people, two guys, one girl, standing around a table. Four had headphones on so One couldn't hear the audio but it looked like the individuals on screen were in the middle of an intense argument.

Nibbling his thumbnail, Four's eyes were laser focused on the woman as she gesticulated wildly. Blueprints, computer screens and maps littered every available surface of the apartment and One recognized the planning stages of a mission. He got a little closer and recognized the girl on screen as the same one who had been at Four's funeral.

Four had told him his background on the trip over to HQ. One figured the other two were the ones that were left over from his original Sky Walker crew.

(He’d roasted Four about that dumbass name for weeks afterward.)

Shaking his head, One heaved a sigh and reached forward to snatch the headphones off Four's head.

"HEY! Who the bloody hell-" Four's frame twisted up and out of the chair only to come to an immediate stop when he saw who had his headphones dangling from their fingertips.

"Didn't know The Bachelorette had a new season running! Are they in the hometown segment?"

Four blinked at him, "It's really distressing you know that much about The Bachelorette."

"What's really distressing is the fact that you're checking up on her. What the fuck do you think you're doing Four?"

"Look, I'm sorry but-"

"No. There are no buts here. Even if her butt is really nice, you gotta put it behind you dude. Especially her."

"I know that, One but-"

One had started pacing back and forth as he warmed to the topic before him, "Do you know how much money is on the line here? How much is at stake? Our lives, our very existence, this could all blow up at any point and we could die. For real. Or, even worse, the government comes in, blows up our spot and we get sentenced to death. Or worse, jail. And you yourself have such fond feelings of, what did you call them? The pigs?" One shot Four a disgruntled look at that statement, noting how Four's hands were clenching and unclenching in an attempt to stay cool.

"Look, One, I just-"

Rounding on him, pointing a finger in his face One roared, "No, Four, you just. You clearly don't want to be part of this team. Clearly I made a mistake in asking you to be part of this if you can't get over the little school girl crush you have on this girl you slept with once and she sucked your dick so well that you mistook it for love-"

His air supply was cut off as Four slammed One up against the wall. The tattoos decorating his hand popped against his skin as he gripped One’s windpipe in a steel trap. For the first time since bringing Four onto the team, One was truly afraid of him and understood why he was so good at what he did.

The look in Four's eyes cowed One immediately as Four growled out the next few sentences, "You listen up right here, right now you fucking prick," Slamming his head back into the wall One saw stars, "Her name is (Y/N) and she is worth more than any person on this damn planet. She's the best person I’ve ever been with and I’m damn lucky she even deigned to give me the time of day. She’s the reason I even joined this bloody insane operation, so show some fucking respect or I'll have no problem slitting your throat and moving on with my life."

One's vision was getting black around the edges as he frantically nodded his head at Four’s words. Four let him go where he collapsed to the floor on hands and knees, coughing as Four paced around the room, scrubbing at the shaved sides of his head with his fists.

After a few seconds of coughing, One rubbed at his throat as he pushed himself up, "You're fucking crazy, dude. Really glad I recruited you. That's the kind of attitude we need out in the field."

Four shook his head as he let out a humorless laugh as One brushed his hands off, "You don't understand One. You never will."

"Cut the emo bullshit. We're not in Twilight. We're adults, just tell me what-" He stopped as Four swiftly turned to face him, eyes pleading,

"She became a Sky Walker, One. She's doing what I used to do because she doesn't think her life has any meaning and that's bullshit. She's my everything, okay? She's the reason I get up in the morning. She's the reason I do this damn job. She's the reason I keep myself alive out there. She's my guiding light. She's the sunshine on a cloudy day and-and” he waved his hands around uselessly as he tried desperately to pull another cliche from thin air, “I don’t know, man. She’s every other cliche you know about how someone makes your world better and she's putting herself at risk because of me"

One stood stock still as Four took another deep breath in, the fire in his eyes going from an inferno to embers as he stared at the screen where it showed her bending over the blueprints, tracing a line with her finger, "She's the love of my life and-" taking a shuddery breath in One felt his own eyes start to get misty, "Her light is the one thing that keeps me going in this miserable world. And if she's gone, I don't know if I'll make it." A tear made its way down One’s cheek as Four admitted this last part on a whisper.

One wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that last part but there was stillness as the room held its breath as it waited for what One would have to say,

"Alright. What do you need from me?"

Four's eyes snapped to One's. Stepping closer to One, his eyes roved over his face, trying to tell if he meant it, "You're not messing with me are you?"

"Not in this regard. Probably over something else I will but, what would make you feel better?"

Four took a second to contemplate it, "If she does seem like she's in trouble with this mission, we rescue her.” His eyes widened as he took another step closer to One, “AND, you offer her a spot on the team."

"Four-"

"One it's this or you lose me for good if she-she- '' Four's voice cracked as he turned his head away. Not even able to finish that horrible thought.

One’s heart squeezed in his chest. Christ, he thought, I’m more invested in their relationship than any bystander should be.

Groaning, One rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Fucking fine. I'm so going to regret this but...fuck it. If it seems like things are going sideways, we'll step in. I'll offer her a place on the team." Four started to smile but One stepped forward, pointing a finger in his face, "You have to meet with her before she makes her final decision though. I can offer it to her but she gets the final call if she wants to do this thing with us. With you. Got it?"

Nodding frantically, Four closed the gap between the two of them and wrapped One in a hug, "Oh, so we talk about our feelings for two minutes and all of a sudden we're into hugs? Weird."

Four let him go and with one last look at the screens, bade One goodnight.

Watching him leave, One turned to the screens, watching her analyze the blueprints, writing notes on them occasionally. Leaning on the back of the rolling chair One sighed, "Oh (Y/N), you have no idea what you've done."

~~~

Reaching into his pocket, One slide his phone out, shooting a quick text to Four,

She’s awake. And alive. Now we wait.

Heaving a sigh, he glanced down the hallway to see Seven approaching. Making eye contact with One, he raised his arms up as if to say, Well? What's happening?

"Fuck if I know. She's insane.” At Seven’s bug eyed look he quickly backpedaled, “In a good way. I don't think she's insane in, like, a psychological way. Just grieving."

"Oh good because grief is such a good emotion to grapple with in this line of work. Oh, and by the way did we mention that the man she’s grieving is actually alive and well?"

"You know, sarcasm is really ugly on you. Luckily, I'm not ugly so I can wear sarcasm well."

Snorting, Seven slumped against the wall next to One, letting his own head thud softly against the wall. Crossing his arms they both stared ahead at an unknowable future.

Seven broke the silence, "What really happens now, One. I mean, I know she's good, we all saw her in action. Taking out all four of those guards? Her entire plan was foolproof. It was impressive, no doubt but this is a tricky situation, one that none of us has ever had to deal with before."

"I know, I know." One let those four words out on a single huff of breath. Groaning he squeezed his eyes closed, "Why did I have to pick the one man on this earth who's desperately in love with a girl who so happened to be desperately in love with him and then they both went full Batman when they lost each other?"

"Because you see yourself in Four. That's why."

One's eyes slid over to Seven, "That doesn't leave this hallway."

Nodding once to show he understood, Seven pressed himself up. Twisting his body so he was facing One, his posture the only remnant to remind everyone he was once the perfect soldier, "But seriously One, what now. What can I do?"

Pressing his hands against the wall, One heaved himself up with a grunt, "Solve this for me?" The single eyebrow raise was the only answer he got, "Alright, alright. Come on. We need to go back and debrief everyone on this crazy shit. Don't know how I'm going to use small enough words to explain this to Three."

"You're on your own for that one dude." Seven laughed as they ambled down the hall, laughter dying on his lips his face fell into a serious mask, "How do you think Four's going to handle it?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be having this charming heart-to-heart with you."

"Seriously man, you're not even a little bit worried?"

"I'm freaking out dude!" Seven was brought up short as One rounded on him, gesticulating wildly, "This is no man's land! Even more so than this original idea! Four's so deep in his feelings with this girl and she's clearly heartbroken about him being gone and is on a one-woman train toward self-destruction that she's determined to meet him in death and” One’s eyes widened comically, “Ooooh my god I've Romeo and Juliet-ed them. Holy shit, I'm the Nurse. I'm too beautiful to be The Nurse!"

Gently prying One's hands from his collar, Seven looked him dead in the eye, "You have got to get a grip. You're spiraling and it's making your eyes go in two different directions."

Crushing his eyes closed, One took a deep breath in, "You're right. You're right. I need to get it together. We can handle this." Stepping back One hopped up and down on the balls of his feet, punching the air, "I need you to slap me."

The crack of Seven's palm making contact with his cheek sent One staggering back several steps.

"OW! What the fuck? No hesitation? No asking if I was sure?"

"I've been wanting to do that since the day you broke into my apartment." Seven shrugged as One glared at him, cupping his pink cheek.

"Fine, but it did help clear my head. So. Thanks. I guess."

Seven smirked.

"Alright, the plan. Let's talk to Four first. He needs to understand that for this to work, he needs to talk to her one on one. And it has to be her call. We can't influence her. If she wants in, fine but they need to work through their shit. And if she says no? Then we let her walk back to her life. And Four needs to respect that. He has to let her go."

"Easier said than done. I've seen his face when he looks at pictures of her on his phone."

"Yeah well, bet you didn't know he's also been following her? Keeping watch over her via surveillance tapes? And tracking her home?”

That brought Seven up short, "No? What the fuck?"

"I know. If it was anybody else's story I would have called the cops ages ago. As it is, it’s kind of romantic"

~A Week Later~

"We're all ghosts down here. Except, we don't float. One because gravity's intact and two because I'm not a cannibalistic clown."

"Could've fooled me."

"Didn't know I recruited fucking Tina Fey over here. Anyway, here's headquarters. Or home sweet home." One said in that same drole way he had of phrasing everything.

Walking through the punishing desert to get to the graveyard of felled planes had caused a shiver to pass through her. She did her best to suppress it but it was difficult. Passing through the giant hulking masses of steel caused her to feel like she was encroaching on the territory of ancient deities. The area felt loaded with their silence, the carnage keeping a silent watch as their footfalls disrupted the grains of sand that were being buffeted by the wind that swirled through the gaping openings in the bellies of the planes.

It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, well, not hospital, but the private sanctuary One had kept her at while she healed.

He had come into her room the day after he had left his card, shock on his face at seeing her sitting up, arms crossed.

"What the hell do you do and how do I fit into it?"

The single eyebrow she raised at One prompted him to explain, in detail, everything they did and what it would entail.

She’d been silent, eyes focused on his face, not making any sounds or moving until he finished his spiel. Then nodding, she asked one question,

"When do I start?"

He explained that her death would be easy to fake since she had technically almost died anyway. What he he hadn't told her was he hadn’t made it public just yet, he didn't want to make her brother and friend worry too much. Or give them a false alarm only for her to waltz back from the dead if she couldn’t handle being with Four.

So, here she was, following One up the stairs of the largest plane carcass. Pushing aside the plastic curtains that did their best to keep sunlight, sand and bugs out, he extended an arm in an exaggerated bow.

"I do hope it's to your liking Princess."

"Don't call me that you prick." She murmured as she breezed past him, pausing in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior of the plane after being out in the searing sunlight.

The main room held more computer monitors than she had ever seen. She thought Mark's setup of four monitors had been impressive but the wall of screens staring back at her made her realize how rookie their operation had been.

A large silver table in the middle held a commanding presence and she knew, instinctively, that One felt most comfortable at the head of it, barking orders while still being able to hit the group in front of him with a sarcastic jab or two.

Taking a few hesitant steps forward she peered at the weapons lining the back wall. Snorting, she gestured to it lazily, turning her head to pierce One with a gaze, "You preparing for the apocalypse or do I require this much of a security detail?"

One's face broke into a fake smile as he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees as he wheezed a few times, "Oh my god, sweetheart, oh god, please, stop, my stomach, it can't take the hilarity anymore, please, god." With that last word the smile dropped from his face and he stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest,

"We're a group of vigilantes that have a specific subset of skills that makes us some of the most dangerous people on the planet. We go after the people that are even more dangerous than us. You think we just talk about our feelings and politely ask them to stop committing human rights atrocities?"

Brushing past her he shook his head, "Unbelievable." Muttering about new blood while he started down the hallway.

Eyes dancing over the various boards lighting up, she had the unmistakable sense that someone was watching her. One had told her there were five more that she would meet so she wondered if one of them was about to jump her as a weird sort of initiation.

But when she turned her head to the entrance, there was nothing.

Just the wind, blowing the plastic flaps back and forth. Scanning over the area she could have sworn the darkest corners contained something that was intrigued with her. Taking a hesitant step forward, One's voice jolted her out of her paranoia, "Hey, Amy Poehler, you coming to share more of your classic wit with the whole class or are you just going to dilly dick around all day? C'mon, I'm a busy man."

"Coming!" She yelled back, turning on her heel to jog down the hallway after him, turning her head one last time to make sure no ghosts were following.

Billy breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that today was the day he’d have to face her. He and One had discussed it extensively last night. One had been adamant, don't get attached to her being on the team before she explicitly says she wants to stick around, you know the rules, I know Seven changed things a little but this is getting into a whole new territory of softness and on and on while Billy had just sat there, taking it.

One finally ran out of steam (Billy wondered, not for the first time, if One had a coke addiction to get all the energy he needed) and Billy nodded his head, chewing over everything One had just said. He opened his mouth, preparing to show One how much he understood, how this was him only looking out for the team and adding a valuable asset. What came out of his mouth surprised him and One,

"I love her. I need her or else I won't make it through this life alive." He lifted his eyes to One and One took a sharp intake of breath. He had never seen Billy so open, so vulnerable. Even when he had been on the brink of dying, twice.

Searching his blue eyes, One sighed, dragging a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he scrubbed at his hair, groaning, "Fuck me, I must be getting soft in my old age. FINE. But remember. You have to talk to her. If you two can't work through your shit, she's gone. Poof. Vamoose. Got that? This is her choice. She gets to make the call if she stays, if she wants to work with you and if she leaves. Not you. Capisce?"

Billy nodded, trying his hardest to mask the eagerness he felt at the possibility of being with (Y/N) again. Being around her light, feeling that same pull into her warmth.

So, how could anyone blame him for wanting to see her as soon as she stepped foot into headquarters?

He had lurked in the shadows, pulling his hood over his hair, making sure his eyes were concealed. His eyes were her favorite part of him, she had told him during those amazing 24 hours they had shared together.

Billy couldn't believe it had been 365 days since they had seen each other. It felt like it had gone by so fast. But then again, he’d been all over the world, fighting bad guys and overthrowing dictators, (Y/N) had been living her life.

And started Sky Walker training which he was going to have to talk to her about that.

When she walked in, Billy had shrank even farther into the shadows, biting his tongue till he tasted blood, so he wouldn’t scream out her name.

It was still the same (Y/N) he’d fallen in love with, longer hair, more muscles but what really threw him was her eyes. They were the same color but the warmth that he had come to love was extinguished. Replaced with a flinty resolve that if anyone talked or looked at her, they would get their ass kicked.

It was the first time that he started to wonder if maybe this was the best idea. And let himself ponder the idea that she could potentially say no. That she wouldn't want to see him. That she would never be able to forgive him.

But he needed to know. He needed to try, he needed to show up for himself and for her. To show her that he still loved her, that he had always loved her.

Stepping out of the shadows, he pulled his hood down, making his way to the meeting room where they’d be waiting for him.

It wasn't till he brought his hand down from his hood that he realized his hands were shaking.

"Hola, Papi. Who's this lovely lady sitting here? My birthday isn't until next week." Three smirked as he pulled a chair out for himself, aiming a lazy wink at (Y/N). Her months of seducing men just like him in bars kicked in and she winked back, letting a slow smile crawl across her face.

An intimidating blonde woman kicked his chair as she sank into her own, "I meet your mother and this is the thanks I get?"

"You know I didn't mean it mi amor. I've only got eyes for you."

"And apparently any other attractive woman in a six mile radius." She extended her hand to (Y/N), "I'm Two. Nice to meet you."

Grasping Two’s hand in her own, she shook it, impressed with the strength of the woman's grip.

"Well, since you and Two are so happy together, this is my time to shine. I'm Seven." Seven grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, holding her prone in his stare. He pulled back, winking at her and she felt a blush climb into her cheeks, "(Y/N). You have a much better chance than Three does at getting into these Nike leggings."

Seven's jaw dropped as One made a retching noise and Five stepped forward, extending her hand "I don't want to get into your leggings but I’m glad there's someone else here who's trained to keep these idiots alive."

(Y/N) shook her hand, smiling back at her, "Surprised they've lasted this long with just one doctor."

"You and me both." Rolling her eyes she turned to One, "This the one we picked up from Casewell’s joint?”

“The very same” was One’s reply as he flicked through the folder in his hands.

Five’s eyebrows rose up as a low whistle escaped her lips, “Shit. Well, I’m definitely glad you came around then. I’m assuming you’re the one who brought the vile of polonium?”

(Y/N) nodded, very aware of every eye in the room assessing her, sizing her up. It was like being in a room with Cassandra but multiplied by five.

“We saw you in action. Very impressive.” Two chimed in, crossing her arms over her chest.

Everyone else nodded as she tried her best to tamp out the flush of appreciation building in her cheeks. Snorting, she deflected, “Thanks. I guess you guys couldn’t have stepped in earlier to help, huh?”

“Sweetheart that’s not really our style. And in case you missed the chopper outside the building, we’re very particular about our style.” Flinging the folder down on the table, One braced his hands on the back of a chair, “So, now you’ve met everyone. The whole Brady Bunch of chucklefucks before you.”

(Y/N) had been mentally going over everyone's names in her head, when she furrowed her brow, "Hold on, either I’m dumber than I thought or your numbers are all out of whack. Where are Six and Four?"

Seven flicked his eyes to Two. Five shifted in her seat, opening her mouth when One cut her off, "Six is no longer with us and Four will be in shortly. I wanted you to meet the whole team first, get a feel for us, then meet Four and make your decision if you'd want to stay with us."

Cocking her head she flicked her eyes to One, "Why? Is Four like a 4Chan meninist who hates women? Why would he be the catalyst for whether I stay or go?"

Since meeting him, this was the first time she had seen One at a loss for words. It made her pulse speed up, clenching her hands into fists she tried to ignore the moisture that had started to accumulate on her palms.

One opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, only to sigh and rub the bridge of his nose as he moved to the door of the meeting room they had been in, "It's probably easier if we just get this over with. Alright. Everyone out. C'mon hurry up." He waved his hands impatiently at the rest of the team standing around. Reluctantly they all started to move, Seven and Three grumbling about how they didn't want to miss any of the drama. Everyone stopped when her chair clattered to the floor, hands clenched at her sides as she took a step toward the door.

"What drama? One? What's going on?" She hated how shaky her voice came out but she couldn't help it. What did they mean? Was Four their muscle? Was it a weird hazing thing? Would she have to try to kill this person? Try to make it out of this room alive?

One was standing half in and half out of the doorway, hand closed over the door knob. Turning back, he locked eyes with her (Y/E/C) ones.

Her blood ran cold. He looked, sorry. Almost like he pitied her. She was pretty sure One didn't have feelings so to see this much emotion directed at her?

She was terrified.

"It'll all make sense. Just...do what you think is right. Okay? You seem like a smart kid. Trust your gut."

And with those cryptic words he left, shutting the door. Sealing her in to wait for this new threat to emerge.

One walked out of the conference room and ran right into Billy.

"Jesus, kid. Any closer to me and you'd need to buy me dinner and drinks before that shit."

Billy's eyes looked right through One, "Is she in there? What did you tell her? What's she like? What did she say?"

One held up his hands to cut off the avalanche of questions, "Yes. The bare minimum by introducing her to everyone. She's like how she was a few minutes ago when you were spying on her, don't think I didn't see you, and she hasn't said anything that I would write home to my own mother about. Oh, except she did tell Seven he could get into her Nike leggings."

Billy's eye widened and he twisted his body to where the sounds of the team were filtering back to the two of them, "I'll kill him myself if he even laid a fucking hand on her, I swear to god."

"Woah, hey kid. Easy. It was just some harmless flirting and besides, (Y/N)'s a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. You don't get to dictate who she does and doesn't sleep with."

Billy's eyes were unfocused as he clenched and unclenched his hands. One took stock of the bundle of nerves before him and felt his shoulders droop a little.

It was times like this that really drove home young Four was. He was the most vulnerable (in terms of emotions and in how little protection he had during missions) and after hearing how he really felt about (Y/N), well, it caused One's own shriveled heart to grow two sizes too big after hearing it.

Even though sometimes when he heard her name, he could still feel Billy’s hand clamping down around his windpipe.

He didn't fault Four for it. Seeing how she reacted at the sight of Four's grave almost made him cave and push Four forward, yelling at her to stop crying.

It ripped his heart apart, especially because it made him think about the family he still had out there.

Sighing, he placed his hands on Billy's tense shoulders, feeling the muscles and sinews so tight he was surprised they didn't snap, "Hey. Hey. Look at me." Billy dragged his eyes away from the door and to One's face, "Don't go in there all freaked out. I think I already stressed her out a little bit so...be cool, okay? And remember, respect her decision. I'll give you all the space you need if she leaves but...respect her choice. That's top priority. Got it?" One gave Four's shoulders a gentle shake so he knew that Four had heard what he’d said.

Feeling Four's joints loosen as he took stock of his words, One slapped him on the back as he walked back down the hallway, "Also, just a heads up, we will be watching this whole interaction over the feeds so just keep that in mind if you two decide to start fucking."

(Y/N) had been pacing the perimeter of the room, checking for cracks, a hidden door, something so she could get out of here alive. She didn't have any weapons on her. Well, except a Swiss Army knife but that barely counted.

Running her finger tips over the walls she felt her heart clench as she looked at her busted fingernails. They were cropped short and bare. She missed her pink sparkly nail polish. She carried it with her everywhere though. She always figured that when she started feeling better she'd paint her nails again. So far, it was still unopened.

Hearing the door knob turn she inhaled sharply, whipping around so her back was pressed into the farthest corner of the room. Her fists clenched and her thighs prepared to pounce or run, whichever came first. Hearing her heart pounding in her chest she took a deep steadying breath as the door opened wider, allowing light to come spilling in, illuminating a silhouette in the doorway.

She couldn't make out any features under the hood they were wearing. The light in the room was dim and compared to the fluorescent lighting in the hallway, she had to squint to try to make out any features this individual had. Her heart beat sped up the tiniest bit when she realized the figure was built like Billy.

Then the figure cleared their throat and closed the door behind them. Taking cautious steps into the light. She opened her mouth, "Are-are you Four?" The figure stopped abruptly and nodded in response to her question. She wondered briefly if they were a mute as she ran a hand through her hair.

Billy's heart almost fell out of his chest when he saw that her hand was shaking as she pushed her hair out of her face. He so badly wanted to be the one to do that he had to plant his feet more firmly on the floor so he wouldn’t race to her.

"They, uh, they haven't assigned me a number yet and I know you all don't do names here so, I guess we gotta wait for me to really introduce myself but I'm the new recruit. It's nice to meet you." She held out her hand, stepping forward.

After a tense moment, Billy extended his.

She cocked her head to the side when she noticed Four's hand was shaking. She looked up at him but she still couldn't make out his face with the lighting and his hood. She could just see his bottom lip and she was surprised when she felt her stomach clench at the sight of how full and pink it was.

Looking down, she clasped her hand in his and felt her blood run cold.

Running along Four's fingers were tattoos.

Tattoos that were identical to the kind that Billy had.

Lifting her head up seemed to take an eternity to Billy.

He held his breath as her other hand reached up, index finger extended, shaking like a leaf in a storm as she brought it within millimeters of making contact with the tattoos she had traced so lovingly during those 24 hours.

"You bastard."

~~~

Tag List: @itsabenthing @vroboat @mrhoemazzello @gwendolyns-stacy @alliwantfromyouistomakelovetome @desperatelytryingtosavemyself @jonesyaddiction @xtrashmammalstefx @radiob-l-a-hblah @fairestkillerqueenofall

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years ago

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since the anniversary of heaths death and even before i had been crying myself to sleep about it now ive stopped eating everything tastes discusting and i have nightmares daily i just miss him so much its hard to deal with the greif of someone i never even met 🖤🖤🖤

Oh, my love.💜

I’m so sorry that it took me so long to respond to this! Life’s not been very kind to me recently (has it been to anyone?) so I’ve barely had the time or energy to be active here in a way which actually matters but I’m trying to be better!💙

I’m so sorry that the 22nd January brings with it so much distress and upset, darling. I can definitely relate to and empathise with you and I’m sure I’m not the only one!❤ It’s completely understandable and valid for the death of a celebrity to affect you!* Though you never met Heath and though you never knew him personally, you know his work as an actor, as a photographer, and you know the way he was in public; Heath was an incredibly authentic and genuine soul who suffered deeply and struggled greatly and there’s so much inspiration to be found in the way he carried on despite all of this.

Grief is different to everyone and it manifests differently for different people, and I’m so sorry that you’ve stopped eating and that you’ve been having nightmares. It definitely sounds to me like this has hugely impacted you negatively and I’m so sorry that it’s hard to deal with the grief. There’s a saying that grief is the price of love and that’s absolutely true - your profound grief is a mark of just how deeply you love Heath. He was always very open with his fans and he was such a sweetheart and I’m sure he would appreciate your love for him!💗

There’s another saying that no one truly dies until their name is spoken for the last time, and that’s also true. So, my love, you can keep Heath (and other loved ones) alive in your memory and in your heart. Enjoy his work and his characters, remember the time we got to experience with him, and know that within you is he still alive! It’s easier said than believed and I know it hurts, darling, I do. I would love to hug you (or sit beside you without touching you if you would prefer) to comfort you during this exceptionally rough time. I would recommend reaching out to other fans of Heath; it’s been a very trying time and knowing there are others out there who feel as you do can really help with the emotional processing and upheaval which you’re going through.

I’m so sorry that there’s little I can say to comfort you, it’s such a deeply personal topic and it’s definitely something which you have to work through on your own. Let yourself hurt, darling, but at the same time please take care of you. Even if it’s something small, please try to eat something. Just to put something in your stomach; your body needs it to live. It’s doing its best to get you through this and I’m really proud of you for reaching out to me!💕

I hope that this answer provides you with some kind of comfort, angel, I’m worried about you and if you want to vent about this or anything else some more, then please know that both my ask box and DMs are open to you! I’m thinking of you deeply and I’m sending you love!💛

* = I read this article through myself and I found it to be a very good source of validation and information.

#tw; death #i'm not tagging this w his name #bc it'll upset people #and i dont wanna do that #this is a queued ask #90sheathlover

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scottymcgeesterwrites · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy Review

Year: 1987 Original Platform: Famicom Also available on: Nintendo (NES), GameBoy Advance (Final Fantasy I & II: Dawn of Souls), PlayStation One (Final Fantasy Origins), PSP (Anniversary Edition) Version I played: PSP

Synopsis:

The world is in danger. Four monstrous fiends, each corresponding to an element of nature, have wreaked havoc on the world, causing each of the four elemental orbs (in later remakes, crystals) to turn dark. Four Heroes of Light, each holding their own orb, meet and band together to take on these fiends and restore nature to its proper balance.

Gameplay: The original game introduced the Job System. The six jobs are Warrior, Thief, Monk, Black Mage, White Mage, and Red Mage. Each have their own stats. You are free to name each of your heroes. Later on the game, each job can be upgraded.

We are introduced to a classic setup of turn-based combat. Final Fantasy was notable for being the first video game RPG to show your characters on the right and the enemies on the left; all previous video game RPGs had a first-person view with the enemy directly in front of you.You choose your action between Fight, Magic, Drink, Item or Run. Then the enemy takes their turn.

It’s a simple system that at the time was already well-known. It was really the Job System that intrigued players. Black Mages perform destructive magic, White Mages heal and restore, Warriors are the powerhouses, Monks deal damage without weapons, and Thieves can run from battles successfully (they cannot steal, as later games would introduce that). The game can be quite difficult on the original Famicom and NES. It was made at a time when technology was limited, so developers had to make the game harder so that people spent more time playing it. There’s a gaming term that I’ll be using in many of these Final Fantasy reviews called “grinding”. Grinding is when you end up having to run around and fight monsters for the sake of leveling up your characters. There is a lot of that in this game, as well as the early Final Fantasy games in general. Unlike games today, the direction isn’t fully laid out. You are thrown into the world and wander about from town to town to figure out where to go next. Instead of games like today where other non-playable characters (NPCs for short) tell you what to do in cutscenes and whatever, you actually have to approach the NPCs and find out the information. The overall effect is more open-world. You walk across fields and oceans and deserts. There are caves and other secret places to find more items. From a modern gamer’s perspective, the exploring can be quite bare and – for lack of better word – boring. The remakes, like the PSP version that I played, brightened it up with updated graphics. They also added a couple extra dungeons. I actually spent time in those extra dungeons believing they were part of the story, appalled by how difficult they were, when I later found out they were extras put in for the PSP version. That has happened a lot to me with remakes of old RPGs (Chrono Trigger for the DS, another example). A little more obvious sign would have helped to make me realize that I didn’t need to finish those extra dungeons. The pace is definitely slower than the other Final Fantasy games. Most of your time is spent grinding. Grinding can sometimes be a wary word when talking about video game RPGs. If an RPG is too boring or tedious, grinding is the last thing you want to hear. But even when an RPG is fun, grinding means that you need to spend time battling enemies, and that means hopefully you don’t have a huge backlog of other video games. It's probably why I never got around to finishing the original NES version on an emulator. Once and a while I'd be pumped up about going through with it but then as I played I just. . .got distracted by other video games that I wanted to finish.

You definitely need time and patience. The most aggravating thing about the original version (Famicom/NES) is that if your character is set to attack an enemy but another one of your characters defeats it first, that character attacks nothing but air when it's their turn. It was a very annoying issue that they fixed in all subsequent remakes. When comparing the original to any other version, the original always is the best way to experience the game. It can also be the hardest and most time-consuming. You would need to pay attention to this game entirely and not be distracted by anything else.

The PSP version is watered down. I found it infinitely easier than the NES version. I actually played them side-by-side to figure out at what point the difficulty branched off. Right away when you venture to save Princess Sara, I realized that the PSP version gives more XP per battle than the NES version. Hence, you have to grind more in the original version.

Graphics:

Everybody loves some 8-bits, but let’s be honest here – there’s a whole lot of black empty space going on when you battle.

But hey, that was due to the limitations at the time. Battles may seem more boring to you due to the lack of detail to catch your eye.

The later remakes added a floor or ground where appropriate. The PSP remake did a good job of giving a facelift to the original, as shown below. It has this cute, rounded feel to the characters.

(My favorite battle background was in the final battle.)

The opening FMV sequence is ripped straight from the Playstation One remake. That didn’t age well. It’s awkward as hell. Want to see how awkward it looks? It looks mad awkward. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just look it up. I don’t want to sully this post by posting a screenshot. In my opinion, they should have created a brand new opening FMV sequence for the PSP version.

Story: The first several minutes of the game acts as a prologue. The Four Heroes of Light save a princess - Sara - from the clutches of Garland, and then the King of Coneria allows a bridge to be built for them to enter the world and save it. It’s not until that bridge is built that the game truly starts and the title screen actually displays – much like a late opening title in a movie. In retrospect, saving a princess probably seemed like the most common trope in video games throughout the '80's. Gamers would have been used to it by then. That short prologue acts like a trope-breaker. The average gamer would have probably expected the game to be like Mario or Zelda. Oh yeah, save the princess from some evil fiend, okay, got it. They would have then maybe been perked with interest when they "defeated" Garland so quickly, and then when the King of Coneria lets them pass into the world and the title screen opens up with the theme song, they maybe were like, "Ooooh. NOW it starts." Final Fantasy then plunged them into a wide open world.

The bulk of the story is mostly comprised of self-contained incidents. You run into someone who needs help with a thing so you do that thing and then you’re on your merry way again. You know what would be a great adaptation of this game? A Netflix series. It’s very episodic. First you deal with these pirates led by Bikke, then get a ship to sail across the land and go on a sort of delivery quest for a crown, a crystal eye, an herb, a magic key, until the main story picks up with defeating the Four Fiends and bringing light to the darkened orbs. There's no real huge spoiler other than the time travel paradox at the end, which had me wracking my head a bit. It's quite admirable that a game this early in video game console history produced a higher concept plot involving time travel. Music:

Composer Nobuo Uematsu created a legendary score that immediately became on par with the Mario and Zelda theme songs. The Prelude/Crystal theme – the harp-like scale that we are all familiar with – was actually composed last. Uematsu had complete the score when Sakaguchi approached him at the last minute realizing they needed music for the game’s introduction. None of them had any idea that the theme would become a staple for Final Fantasy.

Due to the technical limitations at the time, you can imagine that the soundtrack is limited, but even so it was still quite expansive for its time. There are several individual tunes for dungeons, for sailing your ship and for flying your airship. The map theme will have you humming it without realizing it.

Uematsu drew his inspiration from two sources – classic rock and living in Shikoku, an island off Japan. The melodic world map theme in Final Fantasy (and the rest of the series) derives from the picturesque memories he has of the island. The town theme is reminiscent of the sleepy villages – as he was never a city person. Meanwhile, the battle theme has undertones of rock music.

There’s only one battle theme, even when fighting bosses and the final boss, but the amazing thing is that it never gets old.

Final Fantasy games are known for their great battle songs. The opening bassline always gets you in the groove to fight. You’re fighting but want to sing at the same time. Maybe that’s the brilliance of Uematsu; because of the fact that you need to grind many times in these old Final Fantasy games, he created a tune that you wouldn’t get tired of because it’s not so serious or mundane.

Not to crap on other great developers, but other video game RPGs at the time of Final Fantasy didn’t quite have memorable battle music. Just look up the battle theme to the first Dragon Quest game (released before Final Fantasy). You can imagine how that simple tune could get old really quick. I could be pulling this out of my ass, but after Final Fantasy, it seemed that battle music in video game RPGs suddenly got better. If you listen to the Dragon Quest IV battle theme, there is a portion that sounds similar to the battle theme of Final Fantasy.

The PSP version adds more tracks, specifically to the boss battles, and I like how they incorporate the original battle motif thrown into the new battle songs. The original battle theme has a guitar and drums added, which is the style that Final Fantasy battle music was known for by then.

There is one last thing to note about the score that I found very interesting for its day and age. You see, in a movie score, you have themes and motifs, just like a video game score. But in a movie score, other tracks reference those themes and motifs. For example, you have The Raider’s March in the Indiana Jones films; that’s the theme for the character Indiana Jones. Then in the movie, whenever Indy does something badass, you hear his theme blare in that instance. Obviously the entire theme doesn’t play, but it is incorporated in snippets throughout.

Uematsu actually does this with the Town Theme. He incorporates it at the ending music in the epilogue. It took me a while to try to understand why. Then it hit me. The epilogue mentions the heroes becoming legends as people talk about them. Legends are told and spread in towns.

It’s a very small detail. It’s such a small detail that it could be nothing but if it is what I think it is, then it’s cool that he was already in the mindset of passing on themes and motifs throughout the game, treating it like a movie.

Notable Theme:

I already posted the main themes in the introduction, but here’s the original battle theme:

youtube

Verdict:

A strong debut to the Final Fantasy series. To a modern gamer though, you may be spoiled by the fast-paced, eye-catching video games of today. When console games first hit the market, developers had to create games that took longer than the average arcade game to finish, or else kids would get bored with their games in minutes and gee, wouldn’t that be a waste since they paid way more than a quarter? Thus, that’s another reason why old games are harder. Given the technical limitations at the time, developers couldn’t expand much on the game, so there’s a lot of leveling up and grinding because what else could you do? You know? Ultimately, playing a video game back then was all about honing your skill with that game.

Ideally, you could play through every Final Fantasy game in order of their release, and that would give you a greater sense of the evolution of the gameplay and the series as a whole. However, most people reading this (and me) are probably more modern gamers – and as such, our perspective is biased on what feels “exciting” and “remarkable”. The first Final Fantasy game could feel boring and tedious to you now, but if you put it in the context of when it was made, this was entertainment for hours on end. This is basically like watching one of those silent adventure films starring Douglas Fairbanks. Yeah, you’ve been spoiled with more amazing stuff like The Matrix and Star Wars, but golly – this stuff blew people’s minds back in the day.

Direct Sequel? No. However, there have been multiple remakes, which I have already listed above.

#final fantasy #final fantasy nes #final fantasy famicom #nobuo uematsu #square enix #square #squaresoft #final fantasy i #final fantasy origins #final fantasy psp #final fantasy anniversary edition #onvideogames #video games

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sveasauvageon · 4 years ago

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Ce qu'il a donné Un an, deux ans, cent ans de bonheur Puis la vie te cueille comme une fleur || GW

☾♔; March 5, 2018 ☾♔; sotd: Котик by Alexander Rybak ☾♔; comedian otd: JOHN OLIVER ☾♔; GW To do list ☾♔; {G} https://goo.gl/XSTtMc ☾♔; mod(s): @themadmonarchist @maybones et moi

Title: lyrics from "Requiem" by Alma

--featured not-mine oc's - Eloise Avery | @themadmonarchist - Minah Delacroix | @maybones (see what I did there with the Serena and Blair positioning? -eyebrow wriggle thing-)

- - - x - - -

Updated GW to-do list: - Division of labour (we should really start saying when one of us starts working on something because otherwise we'll end up with redundancies since we think disturbingly alike) - the "chuck" problem: okay, tbh, it's more of an Ed Westwick problem than a chuck one. I don't know how you guys have reacted to the me too and time's up movements, but mine has been to cut all those men out of my sphere of entertainment, I even cut out "witch hunt", "not all men" type dudes, and "only fondled their breasts on tv and apologized for it" men (aka Ben Affleck), because time is up for all of you! Soz, not point, but since last October, Ed Westwick has been caught up in this, and thus far 3 women have accused him of ra.pe and a fourth of sexual misconduct. Now, I know it's not Chuck's fault that his portrayer is a ra.pist (allegedly), but there is still an issue with including his face, etc in aesthetics and gossip girl material because his face is that of a ra.pist's (allegedly). Tbh, I wanna leave him (Ed Westwick) out of material and only discuss Chuck and avoid showing his face or use a dreamcast instead, but like, I dunno what you guys wanna do. Chuck is a great character, although, early on, he was quite rap.ey, the character, and it does not help that his portrayer has since been revealed to be a ra.pist. Allegedly.

- also, going back up to the redundancy issues, I love both of your aesthetic collections and playlists, so for those, I was thinking for playlist, we should make one big playlist on spotify that's collaborative, so that everyone can add their music and it'll kind of be a huge explosion of musical tastes. But also, maybe have a collection that has a link on the group info for individual playlists for characters, and the group made by us and/or others. For aesthetic collections, basically the same idea with one big collaborative collection, and then that collection will have links to other collections (yes, I'm a little ocd).

- also, also, this is completely unrelated, but I was watching trevor noah's show and he made a joke about how much trump's male employees snitch and gossip like sht, but the woman haven't revealed squat. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpmlVWFTW8A) It's really funny, and honestly, stupid people fcking up in trump's circle very publically is basically what's keeping me alive. It's just hilarious how stupid some of these people are. ___________________________ Another Update (I'll leave those up until @maybones weighs in on them)

I was working on a draft of the group description to show you guys, and I was using a template of one of my old groups and rewriting stuff and changing it to suit our purposes and I realized how many freaking rules I have (I'm so picky), anyway, some of this stuff obvs won't be applicable (like, there's one about characters dying and I don't think we were planning on going that dark. although, serena was an accessory and chuck kind of killed his dad, so meh, maybe?) anyway, I wanted your opinions on what rules to keep and/or change:

✠ RULES AND GUIDELINES {GENERAL} ✠

I. Please be kind to each other. Your characters can be total jerks, but let us, the creators and/or writers be kind, polite, and respectful (aka, channel your inner Canadian guys). There will be absolutely ZERO tolerance of discrimination. You will be immediately removed from the group, and your actions will be documented and reported. PM me immediately if someone harasses you or you notice harassment between members. ⠀⠀Ia. If you want to be anonymous, for any reason, you can send in your complaints here {https://goo.gl/kbTXeU}, it's a google form, and it doesn't ask you verify your email, and the username option, is just an option, it's not required. If I need to make further contact/information from you regarding your concern, I'll make a group announcement vaguely describing your issue, and you can send in further information anonymously again. I'll be checking the form at least once a week.

⠀II. I'm not giving this any specific rating, however, I will say, you're free to include whatever "adult" content you want, whether it be swears, gore, or the dirty stuff (I'm totally a mature, grown up adult guys). However, do be careful of polyvore's stupid censors, use workarounds like writing your story in google docs, or accents for swear words.

⠀III. This is a non-elimination group, but characters can die. It may be used for inactive members, or if you wanna kill 'em off or maybe revive as a ghost or something else. Permission will always be asked of the creator first (with the exception of characters belonging to inactive members, whose characters may be killed off as penalty).

⠀IV. If you miss 3 consecutive contests (without informing me), you'll receive an "x", "|" will be used to break up non-consecutively missed contests, anyway, if you miss 3 in a row, that will open your character to be killed by either myself or other group members. You will be notified, but your permission will not be asked. If you wish to rejoin at a later date, and you character has not been killed off, simply pm me and continue with whatever contest is in progress. If your character has been killed off, you can re-audition with a new one, and I will transfer your points to your new character.

⠀V. Always pm me, your vodka aunt mod, if you feel you'll be unable to enter a contest, your reason doesn't matter. Just let me know you can't get your entry in, that way you won't receive an "X".

⠀VI. Plotting will be left open throughout the group, however, please establish a few of these before contests begin, and always ask permission when using someone else's character(s) and be sure to tag them in your sets. Please, PLEASE work with others, I hate when people just do their own thing in oc battle groups, this is a collaborative story, everyone's stories and ideas matter. I will call you out if I notice something that contradicts the connected story, and I will always, ALWAYS incorporate the stories of group members into the overall narrative. ⠀⠀VIa. Narrative precedence will always be given to the person who completely finishes the description of their set first.

⠀VII. There is not a list of roles to pick from, you can create whatever roles you want, however, I may ask you to change it if I feel your character may become "villager number 6" and not fit in with the action. Rules, regulations, and suggestions for roles can be found here: [placeholder].

⠀VIII. Always be sure to tag the member's when you use their characters and give credit where credit is due.

⠀IX. Plagiarism will not be tolerated and you will be removed and reported. If you're inspired by someone else's work, credit them, otherwise you're stealing.

⠀X. Sets unrelated to the group will be removed.

⠀XI. You will NOT be required to write out a full story. Story portions can be answered in paragraphs, but full stories are always welcome and appreciated.

⠀XII. Do not use templates for contest entries unless otherwise stated.

⠀XIII. Always feel free to contact me with any and all questions, and/or suggestions. You can also send them through the anonymous complaints form, found here: https://goo.gl/kbTXeU

_________________________________

✠ RULES AND REGULATIONS {FACECLAIMS} ✠

I'm quite picky about these, but I'm not gonna be pedantic about it this time. You do you. Having said that, there are still some rules and regulations, as well as a challenge.

⠀I. All faceclaims must be above the age of majority (that's 18+ nearly universally on the planet), there is an exception for child characters but all main OCs must be at least 18.

⠀II. All faceclaims MUST be professionals. They can be actors, models, even singers. However, they must be singers of some note signed onto a label company, like Taylor Swift, or my beloved Dima Bilan (who's also an actor. a good one. yes, I'm bragging). Your faceclaim CANNOT be someone insta-famous, youtubers, or tumblr tweens.

⠀III. Whilst I'm not going to reject any faceclaim on the pedantic basis of "I don't like them", there are some faceclaims that I will and for one reason, and one reason only. Sexual misconduct of any and all kinds. Hollywood and the media are finally cleaning house, and I don't want those dicks in my nerd sht either. To be clear, I don't care whether the misconduct was simply groping a woman's breasts on camera and apologizing about 10 years later, I am going to reject everyone who's been accused. Examples include; Ben Affleck, Casey Affleck, Ed Westwick, Jeffrey Tambor, Danny Masterson, Andy Dick, Dustin Hoffman, and fcking Mel Gibson. (Side note, these are just actors, for a wider list of men who have fallen since the Harvey Weinstein story broke in October 2017, I recommend you check out this article {https://goo.gl/Uq65Qv} by the NY Times) ⠀⠀IIIa. If you notice I have accepted someone who has been accused of sexual misconduct/harassment/assault please inform me right away, and ideally with a link to a news source from where you learned about (I will google it myself, but the ready-to-go link would be much appreciated.) ⠀⠀IIIb. Also, Alec Baldwin is on my list of rejected faceclaims. He's not been accused of anything, yet, but I'm not liking his defensive attitude of alleged rapists. Fúck off. Matt Damon also falls under subsection B, for a slightly different reason, but fúck him too. In this watershed moment, I have no time for defensive d i c k s and "not all men" a s s h o l e s.

⠀IV. The Challenge: a lot of us have certain fave fc's we use over and over again (I'm certainly guilty of that), so my challenge is for you to use a faceclaim you have never used before as your primary oc. This is gonna be based on the honour system, some of you guys I may know well, so I'll know if you're using your fave again, but others I may not, and I can't aggressively stalk everyone, so I won't call out anyone for not doing it. It's just a fun little challenge, worth 10 bonus points, if you opt to do it. But again, it's based on the honour system, I'm not gonna stalk anyone, but if I know you and you lie to me on the audition form. First, I'll be hurt, and second, I'll say sorry and tell you you're not getting those bonus points.

(I know, two sets of rules makes me such a di.ck, it's why I need your help guys!)

#polyvore #gw #eloise avery #Svea Sauvageon #minah delacroix #doll set #mine #anna #may

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madboxwithagirl · 6 years ago

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The Nightmare Before Christmas

Author’s Note: This was never supposed to be a Christmas story, but it somehow ended up becoming one anyway. Don’t worry, I have a true Christmas story coming up after the 25th, so stay tuned for that. I apologize for any and all typos in this story. My finger is broken and it was difficult to type this out. I also didn’t have a beta reader for this. Please inform me of any errors so I can fix them!

Prompt: This was inspired by Early Sunsets Over Monroeville by My Chemical Romance and the video game Left 4 Dead 2.

Summary: For some reason, the Doctor wasn’t a fan of Christmas. Hoping to get him into the holiday spirit, you go shopping for presents together. When things start to go downhill quickly, you find out why he doesn’t like the Christmas season.

Warnings: Death, dead bodies, blood, guns, zombies, people changing into zombies, injuries, heavy angst

Words: 4,221

“I can’t believe you wrapped me into this,” the Doctor pouted as you looked through a rack of clothing, looking for a nice sweater to give as a Christmas gift to a friend.

“Did you just make a gift wrapping pun?” you smirked, knowing that he hadn’t meant to do so. You weren’t one to pass up a good pun, however. He groaned, annoyed with himself.

“Stop it, you,” he scolded, waggling his finger at you as if you were a small child. “We could be absolutely anywhere else in the universe doing absolutely whatever we wanted, and you chose to go Christmas shopping in a mall on a planet inhabited by humans? C’mon, wouldn’t you rather go to a planet that has rainbow snow? Because I can take you there, you know. Each color tastes different! There’s strawberry, cookie dough, we can’t forget banana, mint, orange…” You rolled your eyes as he rambled on, talking about the vast amounts of snow flavors, like it was the most interesting thing in the universe.

“Doctor,” you interrupted as you pulled away from the clothing rack, sweater in hand. “I get that humans aren’t the most interesting creatures to you, but it’s nice for me to be around my own kind every now and again. Plus, we’re not even on Earth! I kept that in mind when I asked to come here!” You bumped his shoulder with your own, trying to get him to smile. “Listen, after we’re done here, we can go and taste test different snow flavors, alright?” He glanced over, noticing the warm look in your eyes. He sighed and nodded his head in agreement, a small curve appearing on his lips. He just couldn’t say no to you.

“Fine, you win. But! Don’t you think that we’re going to stay there for only a little while. We’re staying until we’ve tried every flavor possible.”

“Even pear?”

“…Except for pear.” You laughed loudly, noting the scowl that had replaced his smile. How he despised pears. You were still chuckling by the time you made it to the register to pay for your items. Bags in hand, you and the Doctor made your way back out into the busy mall. It was Christmas Eve on the planet. Frantic shoppers rushed through the stores, looking for last-minute gifts for their loves ones. Even there, people were still very poor planners. You hadn’t meant to land on such a hectic day, but with the Doctor piloting, you never made it exactly where you wanted to go. Deciding to head to one of the many department stores, you turned right and began walking.

“So tell me, Scrooge, why are you so adamant on keeping me from my Christmas shopping?” you asked as you slipped through the crowd. He had never been huge on the holiday during the time that you had known him. You had tried more times than were really necessary to get him to enjoy the season. Snowball fights, decorating Christmas trees, cookie baking, and even hot cocoa weren’t enough to bring him around. He seemed adamant on avoiding any and all Christmas cheer.

“Nothing good ever happens during Christmastime. I’m certain I’ve told you about my last regeneration. And about those murderous Christmas trees.” You let out a laugh, finding some humor in his misfortune.

“Alright, dying and having near-death experiences at Christmas aren’t exactly at the top of my list of fun holiday activities, but you’ve had those experiences loads of times. It’s just coincidence that some of them have happened during Christmas. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of run-ins with death on, say, May 27th!” You linked your arm with his as you kept walking, hoping to offer him some comfort. “You’re only remembering those specific times because they were at signifiant times. They’re just coincidences, nothing more.” His eyes traveled towards you, a reassuring smile gracing your face. His head bobbed in agreement.

“Yes, nothing more than just mere coincidences. Speaking of coincidences, did you know that on May 27th, John I of England and Alexander III of Russia were both crowned? Well, several years apart, of course. And Malcolm IV became the King of Scotland! Again, not on the exact same day, but on May 27th nonetheless. And…” You shook your head as he started to ramble yet again. He could talk for hours without stopping if no one intervened.

As luck would have it, it wasn’t someone who intervened, but something.

Horrified screams rang throughout the space, people running towards the exits as fast as their legs could take them. Confused murmurs broke out around you, no one knowing what was happening. Then gunshots rang out, some trying to take matters into their own hands. The pop! pop! pop! of the guns forced them to stop questioning and instead try to escape as well. Your eyes meant with the Doctor’s, knowing that whatever was going on was going to have to be stopped by the both of you. As people ran away from the impending danger, you and the Doctor ran towards it like you always did.

What you saw next made your stomach churn, the bile rising in your throat. You skidded to a halt and dropped your bags in shock, taking in the terrifying sight. There, in front of you, were four humanoid creatures kneeling down and feeding on the flesh of dead shoppers. Their skin was a sickly, faded green, some falling off in different places. One of them had an eye missing, the red socket sticking out amongst the pale. Some lay beside the carnage, bullet holes in their heads; the targets of the previous gunshots.

“Zombies…” you breathed out, watching the scene unfold. You felt the Doctor’s hand against your back, the man trying to comfort you and pull you out of your trance. You screamed and leapt forward, scared that the touch had been from one of the changed humans. The pale beings jerked their heads up at the sound, wanting to find the source. As their eyes found you, they rose slowly. You felt the Doctor’s hand grab your own and pull you away as the zombies rapidly charged at you, ready for their next kill.

“Keep running and do not look back!” he yelled, dragging you through the last straggling patrons. You followed his orders, too worried that if you stopped, they would catch you and cause the same cruel fate as their last victims. “We need to find some shelter and wait this out. It’s safer that way,” he said as he tugged you towards a seemingly abandoned department store. Despite him being unable to see the action, you just nodded in agreement, too scared to say anything.

Then, you spotted it. On the ground, directly in the path of your escape, was a pistol. Opting not to think about the gun’s owner and their fate, you placed all of your focus on grabbing it as you ran by. You knew that in your situation, it was better safe than sorry. The Doctor’s sonic was useful, but it was no firearm. As you quickly approached, you leaned down, aiming your hand towards the object.

“Wait, what are you do-“ You grasped at the gun, knowing that it was your one and only chance. Your fingers touched the barrel, fireworks going off in your head. You were doing it! You were going to protect yourself and the Doctor and you were going to make it though the apocalypse just fine! Then, without warning, you were jerked away from the pistol.

“No!” you cried out, turning back to watch the gun get further and further away. “No!” you yelled again, but this time out of anger. You dragged your feet into the floor to the best of your ability and pulled your hand as hard as you could, effectively slipping out of the Doctor’s tight grasp. You heard him yell out your name, panic in his voice, but you ignored him. You had to get that gun. You hurried back towards the weapon, aware that the group of zombies were close. You dove forwards, arms and fingers outstretched. Once more, you felt the cool surface of the pistol beneath your fingertips, this time getting a firm grip on it.

You had no time to celebrate your victory, the zombies having caught up to you. Your heart raced in your chest, the realization of your mistake catching up to you. You heard a strangled voice scream your name, the sound nearly being drowned out by the beat of your heart. On impulse, you raised your arms up, holding on tightly to the weapon in your shaking hands. Four shots rang out, followed by four soft thuds on the linoleum floors. You took in rugged breaths, adrenaline running through your system. The zombies lay dead in front of you, blood oozing onto the floor.

You felt a rough tug on your shoulders and then you were running again, the Doctor pulling you into the store. Doing a quick once-over to be certain there were no undead beings within, he let go of your hand and found the gates used at closing time, pulling them shut. He sonicked them and checked their durability, making sure that nothing could get in. Once he was certain that it was secure and safe, he turned to you, anger in his eyes.

“What were you thinking!?” he roared, stalking towards you. In that moment, you found yourself more afraid of him than of the zombies. “You could have been killed! Or worse, you could have turned into one of them. And for what? A gun?” You backed up, the Doctor’s wrath nearly making you cower in fear.

“It’s to keep us safe! Didn’t you see me kill the ones who were chasing us?” you argued back, trying to appear strong.

“And what if the gun hadn’t had any bullets? Or if you had missed? It would have been over for you! I…I could have lost you…” Your shoulders dropped as the anger left his body. You knew that he was right. What you did was stupid, but in the heat of the moment, you hadn’t been thinking of anything except finding a way to keep you both safe. In doing so, you very well could have lost your life or caused him to lose his. You jumped as you heard rattling against the gates followed by low moans. The creatures were trying to get to you, luckily to no avail. You winced, knowing that the harsh noises of the gun drew them to you.

His jaw tightened at the sound, knowing that had he waited only a few extra moments, they would have made it to you. You sighed as you looked at the Doctor, knowing that once you made it back to the TARDIS, you would be scolded even further. Until then, you reasoned, you could at least try to lessen the blow. You willed your legs to move, beginning to walk towards your friend to comfort him and apologize.

Without warning, you heard a raspy cry and felt something grab ahold of you. The gunshots and your shouts had drawn one out of hiding, the beast hungering for fresh meat. A new shot of adrenaline soared through your veins as you tried to fight the zombie off. The Doctor, a look of fear covering his face, rushed towards you, ready to aid you in your battle. You called out in both shock and panic as you felt a pinch on your shoulder. Before it could cause more damage, you raised your hand, gun still held tightly, and sent a bullet straight through its skull. Its hands slipped off of you as it fell to the floor, dead. You instantly felt a new set of hands on you, these ones pulling you into a tight embrace, ignoring the blood and brains that coated you.

“Are you alright!? Are you hurt!?” He pushed you back and looked you over, trying to assess the damage. He held your shoulders and looked you in the eye so intensely that you wanted to shy away. “I need you to be honest with me. Did it bite you?” You had never seen him look so serious in all of your time traveling with him, but underneath that seriousness was an intense uneasiness. You wanted to say no just to ease his nerves, but you couldn’t do that to him. Even if you did lie, he knew you better than you knew the back of your own hand. He would have known if you weren’t being truthful.

“I…I really don’t know. I felt something on the back of my shoulder, but…” He wasted no time turning you around and lifting your shirt up, not bothering to ask for permission. You heard a sharp intake of air and nearly inaudible whispers of denial. You heard him fumble around in his pockets for a moment before hearing the sound of his sonic, the device scanning you. “Doctor? Is everything alright?” you asked, knowing, somewhere deep down, that no, it wasn’t alright. He put the screwdriver away, pulled your shirt back down, and turned you back around, this time at a much slower pace. When you met his eyes, you held back a sob. The look he held told it all.

You had been bitten.

“Here, c’mon.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hand resting on the bite. He pushed you forward, keeping an eye out for any other lurking zombies. You were shaking violently, unsure if it was from nerves, the bite, or both. You could feel him shaking too, the Time Lord afraid of what was to come. He guided you to one of the store’s large display beds, hastily rearranging the pillows for you. He helped you climb onto the soft mattress and get as comfortable as possible. You expected him to join you, hoping that he would attempt to comfort you. Instead, he paced back and forth in front of you, muttering to himself. You eventually leaned forward and clasped onto his sleeve, forcing him to stop and look at you. You gulped, the look on his face showing complete helplessness.

“Doctor?…Am…Am I going to be okay?” you whispered out, unable to make yourself speak louder. The Doctor just looked at you, his eyes moving over your face as if he was trying to take in every last detail. Unshed tears threatened to spill over and rush down his cheeks, the man trying his hardest to keep them from doing so. His body was rigid, tension spread throughout. You swallowed, noting his actions. “Doctor, please…” He shook his head and placed a hand over the one holding onto his suit.

“I’m so sorry.” The breath caught in your throat, all attempts to allow air into your lungs ending in failure. You finally placed the gun down next to you, the weapon having been held tightly throughout the whole ordeal. You raised the hand up in front of you, examining it for any changes. Your skin, already, was beginning to turn into the diseased green of the monsters that had caused the whole situation. The Doctor’s other hand grabbed ahold of it, trying to give you all the comfort he could offer. Your eyes shot back over to his, trying to ignore the pain in them.

“No. There has to be something. There has to be. The TARDIS. She must have something in the med-bay. Right?” You knew that the chances were slim, but you refused to accept that you were doomed. The Doctor always had a way. He could fix it. He could make you all nice and healthy again and then you would be off on more crazy adventures, narrowly escaping death’s grasp again and again and again. He squeezed his eyes closed and detached his hands from yours, wrapping his arms around your shaking form instead. He whispered apologies into your ear, his warm tears falling onto your neck.

You clawed at his back, trying to prevent there being any space between you both. Your face was buried into his chest, the feel of his twin hearts beating wildly noticeable beneath his clothing. He was mortified at the events that had lead to that point and of the events that would follow.

He was losing you, and he wasn’t ready.

You pulled him into the bed with you, the Doctor allowing himself to lay with you and hold you close. In that moment, all you wanted was comfort from the most important person in your life. You pressed your ear against his chest and closed your eyes, his hearts being one of the most beautiful sounds in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, knowing that if you hadn’t stopped for the gun, you wouldn’t have drawn the attention of the zombie that had bitten you. You both would have been more alert, so it wouldn’t have snuck up on you. You would have been on your way back to the TARDIS. Once there, you would have gone elsewhere, perhaps the planet with the multitude of snow flavors. Maybe you should have gone there in the first place. You had begged him to come Christmas shopping with you, desperately hoping that he would start to enjoy Christmas if he just had the right experiences. Tears started to soak the fabric of his suit, leaking through until they touched his skin, making him shiver.

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I forced you here and now I’m going to-“ You couldn’t say the word, a sob taking its place instead. You were either going to die or turn into one of the undead. You didn’t know which was worse. Instead of going home and spending Christmas with loved ones or staying in the TARDIS and spending it with the Doctor, you were going to lose your life.

“Do you know why I hate Christmas?” a broken voice asked, tearing you away from your thoughts. You pulled away and looked up at the Doctor, his tear-filled eyes closed tightly.

“What? I thought it was because of the trees and regeneration?” you replied, confused by his question. He took a deep breath, willing himself to speak about one of the biggest reasons as to why he didn’t like the holiday.

“As you know, you are not my first companion. I’ve had many before you, all of whom left me in various ways; some willingly and some by means outside out their or my control. But I’ve never told you about the few almost-companions. After Martha left me to continue her life on Earth, I met another woman almost right away. Her name was Astrid.” His arms squeezed you tighter, the appendages holding you like a vice, too scared to let go. “She was a waitress on a space-cruise ship replica of the Titanic. Just as it always is with me, trouble wasn’t too far behind. We, of course, attempted to fend off the impending doom.” Tears finally began to appear on his cheeks, the liquid falling into his sideburns. He angrily wiped them away.

“We were going to travel together, her and I, as soon as everything was taken care of on the ship. It was her dream to explore the universe, a dream that I could have easily fulfilled if…if she hadn’t…” He trailed off, knowing that you could put the pieces together. He let his tears fall freely, no longer caring. “It was Christmas. Since then, I’ve had no desire to celebrate or partake in any Christmas traditions. Too many terrible things have happened during those days. And now…” He opened his eyes and let them fall onto your face, causing him to breathe out a pained “Rassilon.” Your pupils were dilated and your skin was completely the wrong color.

You didn’t have much time left.

“Doctor,” you rasped out, your voice having changed as well, “I shouldn’t have-“

“No. Stop that.” He looked deeply into your eyes, taking them in for what was going to be one of the final times. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t honest with you when I should have been. I could have taken us somewhere else. I-“ That time, you cut him off.

“Stop it, Doctor!” you croaked. “You always blame yourself whenever something bad happens. Some things are just out of your control. This was just bad luck? It’s just coincidence, like May 27th, right?” No matter who’s fault it was, you didn’t want him wallowing after it was all over. If it was his fault, you didn’t want him believing so. He had been through enough. He didn’t need more.

Your eyes widened as you felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to latch your teeth into the Doctor’s flesh. With all the strength you could muster, you pushed him as far away from you as you could, wanting to distance yourself from him. You couldn’t let him share the same fate as you. He tried to crawl back towards you, wanting to examine you.

“No!” you wailed. “Don’t come any closer! I won’t be able to control myself!” You looked at him in despair, knowing that you were coming down to the final minutes. You were turning into one of them, and nothing could be done to stop it. Unless… You looked down next to you, the discarded firearm still where you had left it. You picked it up in your shaky hands and checked to see how much ammo was left in it. There was a single bullet remaining. You inhaled deeply, knowing what had to be done. “Doctor.”

“No.” You locked gazes, the agony in his old, tear-filled eyes prominent. “No, I won’t do it. Not to you.” Your face was filled with despair, knowing that if he didn’t, you would turn. Tears fell quickly onto the bed’s comforter, the fabric darkening.

“Please Doctor,’ you sobbed. “I don’t want to become one of them. Please, please, please.” The Time Lord shook his head, closed his eyes, and bared his teeth, angry at whatever god or gods had lead him to that point. He didn’t have it in him to take your life, but he couldn’t let you turn into a monster. The options tormented him, tearing him into tiny, little pieces. He wanted to block out your pleas for him to end your life, but he knew that there was only one way. He looked back up at you, misery coating his entire being as he made his choice.

He could never say no to you.

“Fine.” You swallowed and leaned over, placing the gun near him before leaning back, desperately fighting against the desire to sink your teeth into his skin. He picked the gun up, hating the feel of it in his hands. His chest hurt with every breath he took and with every beat his hearts made. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. It should have never ended like this,” he breathed out, knowing that no amount of apologies could make up for what had happened and for what he was about to do.

“Please don’t blame yourself,” you replied through gritted teeth, fighting the change. Even so, you gave him the biggest smile you could make. “I wouldn’t trade any of this away, really. I enjoyed traveling with you. Thank you for giving me the most amazing time of my life. I…I love you, Doctor.” All at once, his hearts stopped in their places and his lungs couldn’t bring any air in or out. No no no no no. You couldn’t say that to him, not as he was about to end your life. Trying to break him away from his thoughts, you weakly called out to him to no avail. He didn’t want to do it, he couldn't do it, he just couldn’t.

“Doctor!” A deafening, throaty voice called out his name and he was suddenly charged at, your teeth bared and ready to strike. With no time to think, he raised the gun towards your head and pulled the trigger, the sound ringing in his ears. Your body slumped down onto the bed, no life within it. His eyes were wide as they looked over your sickly body, blood pouring out onto the bedcovers. He dropped the gun on the floor, the clattering not even registering in his brain.

Ignoring the blood and brains, the Doctor scooped you up into his arms and lay back down, replicating the position that you were both in before. He held you close, your body quickly growing cold. He cried, thinking about your final words. “I love you. Doctor.” It wasn’t a surprise to him, not really. He knew that you held intense feelings for him, but you had never admitted them. He never expected you to come clean, and he certainly never expected you to tell him on your deathbed. Clutching onto you, he lay in the bed, hearing the zombies at the gate trying but failing to get to him. He didn’t care if they got through. In fact, he almost wished that they did so he could be with you.

For the Doctor loved you too.

#doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who christmas fanfiction #angst #reader death #reader insert #10th doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who #gender neutral reader #zombies #songfic

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 6 years ago

Text

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Explicit

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line

Summary:

“Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I’m thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I’m going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you’re still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

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Chapter two

Forty-five days. Forty-five days and still nothing. No sign of the shuttle, or Jim, or the bastards that attacked them, nothing.

Leonard sat at his desk with his head in his hands, staring blankly at the map of planets before him. The Enterprise had been hovering over a planet for the last four days now. Spock and a small landing party were down on the surface searching for any sign of Jim and his fourteen cadets, and Leonard hadn’t gotten word from them yet. All he could do at this point was hope, and he was worried that even though he was tying to hold on to what little he had left, he would soon abandon it all.

With the red marker in his hand he circled the planet they were currently searching. As he did, his eyes glazed over the rest of the map covered in angry red X’s. Twenty-nine planets between here and where they were first attacked, where he lost Jim in the chaos, twenty-nine planets and they still had not found Jim. He ran shaking hands through his hair, replaying the scene over and over in his mind. The attack, Jim’s shuttle being bounced around as it tried to flee, then watching helplessly as it faded into the black. If he didn’t find him soon he was sure he was going to go crazy.

He heard the woosh of the sickbay doors opening from where he sat in his office. He heard the commotion, the nurses running to the biobed being rushed in. Probably another superficial engineering injury, he thought, someone else can handle it.

“Doctor McCoy!” The desperate cry of his name had his head snapping up from his desk. Mere seconds later a dishevelled looking Vulcan stood panting in his doorway. Leonard hoped, oh god he hoped that this was it, that they had found Jim, but reality was still present in his mind. Jim had been missing on a foreign planet for forty-five days… he was afraid to hope too much. “Doctor, we found him!”

Before he could register his movements, Leonard was launching himself over his desk and running past Spock, the Vulcan right on his heels as he crossed the sickbay at a full sprint. He ran straight for the biobed being pushed in by Chapel and a few other nurses, his eyes instantly searching the screens for vitals. Once he found Jim’s heart rate on the monitor, proving to Leonard that he was alive and finally on the ship, his eyes and hands instantly rushed to Jim’s face. He was cold, dirty, pale, and covered in bruises and cuts. Some new but many old, he noted. His face was sunk in and he had lost a lot of weight while he was missing, and Len did not like that one bit. He hated seeing his friend, his best friend, in such a horrible state. The usually healthy Jim Kirk always came with a few cuts and bruises, but this… this was a lot for Leonard to take in. But the worst, he thought, were Jim’s eyes. Circled in darkness and shut tight, even as he called out his name, were red rimmed and wet. Len knew that could only mean one thing. As Jim lay alone in god knows what state, probably thinking the worst and accepting fate, he had been crying, thinking he would be dying alone on a foreign planet. The thought alone made Leonard’s stomach flip, almost enough to make him throw up, but Jim needed him now, he could be sick over it later when Jim was at least stable.

With his hands still holding Jim’s face, his fingers sliding down to press against his neck feeling his pulse weak under them, he called to him, “Jim, Jim can you hear me?!” but he got no response, not even the slightest movement. “Jim!” he tried again but he was met with still silence.

As they continued moving Jim through the sickbay, Chapel recited Jim’s condition in a steady voice to Leonard. Not only to inform the doctor of his patients condition, but also an attempt to bring Len back to reality and out of the Jim Kirk daze he was currently in. Jim would get through this, but he would need Leonard at his best. “Doctor,” she began “the captain is malnourished, severely dehydrated, and he has several injuries both internal and external that will need immediate surgery… Doctor?”

Without pulling his attention from Jim he responded, “I’ll do the surgeries.”

Though he hadn’t looked away from Jim, Chapel could tell that he was less “Bones” now then he was before, and more “Doctor McCoy”, hopefully realizing that Jim would both need and want the latter. “Good,” she nodded, “he wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.”

He didn’t respond to that as they made it to the operating room, taking one last look at Jim before letting him go and turning to his team, “I need someone to set up an IV, he needs fluids immediately, and we need to start dissolving nutrition and protein packs into the line now!”

At his barked words, two nurses left the room at a run, returning seconds later with the supplies he had asked for. They had the IV set and running in less time then it took to blink, and Len turned to leave the room to prepare himself. As he reached the door Chapel took his arm, holding him there to whisper between them, “Leonard,” in all his years with her, she had never once called him by his first name while on duty, “it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up any time soon, I…”

He spared a glance back at Jim behind him, still unconscious, still unmoving, before turning back to her with a sigh, “Let’s gets his injuries fixed and his health on a steady incline, we’ll worry about… about the coma later.”

She nodded, letting him go and following him out to prep herself to aid him with Jim’s surgery. Neither saying another word to the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bones emerged from the operating room ten hours later with a sigh of relief. Jim was stable. The surgery went well, though this didn’t mean Jim was completely in the clear. He still had a long way to go in regards to healing, but the worst of it was the coma. Bones couldn’t tell when Jim would wake up or…. if he would wake up, and that scared the absolute hell out of him.

As he took off his dirty scrubs and threw them in the bio bin, his eyes never left Chapel as she moved Jim to a private room at the back of the sickbay. As soon as he washed up and put on clean scrubs in his office, he made way straight for Jim’s room.

When he entered, Chapel was still setting things up and taking vitals, and Len stood at the base of Jim’s bed and watched. He watched the drip of the IV fluid, he listened to the hiss of the oxygen machine, he watched the steady flow of the heart rate monitor and thanked god that Jim was still here. But that wouldn’t help him any, hell it wouldn’t help anyone. This coma, this god damned coma, it was keeping Len from the one thing he wanted more than anything in the entire galaxy. Blue, blue eyes, staring up at him in their ever continuous wonder, wide and beautiful as they gazed back at him. And although Len would admit he was a goddamn good doctor, he couldn’t pull Jim out of a coma, especially if Jim didn’t want to come out. He just had to hope with everything he had that Jim hadn’t already given up when he lay dying on that planet alone.

A clearing of a throat pulled Len out of his thoughts, and he looked up to meet eyes with Chapel. Eyes filled with pity not so much for Jim, but for Leonard. “Doctor,” she nodded as he looked up, “I’ll leave you alone.”

He didn’t respond, just returned his gaze to Jim as she left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

Once she was gone he moved himself to the side of the bed, sitting in the chair there. His hand hovered over Jim’s for a moment, and he thought maybe if he just held Jim’s hand, touched him, he’d wake up and this nightmare would finally be over.

A knock came at the door and he pulled his hand away. A muffled, “Doctor?” was heard from the other side and Len recognized the monotone Vulcan instantly.

The door opened slowly and Spock poked his head in. Finding Len, he opened it fully and walked in, padd in hand.

“Doctor.” Len still could not bring himself to speak and Spock expected as much. “While you were performing surgery on the Captain I went through the communicator we found on his person when we rescued him. I reviewed all of his entries…” He fiddled with the padd in his hand, stepping forwards and thrusting the padd towards Leonard, “I merged the ships logs with Jim’s in chronological order for the board to review but… I think you should listen to them, Doctor. There are some things in Jim’s logs I think you should hear.”

Len looked at the padd in front of him and shook his head, “Spock, I can’t.”

“You must, Leonard, for Jim.” He pushed the padd towards him again and waited until he reached out a tentative hand and took it.

When the padd was in Leonard’s hands, Spock retreated towards the door. “Doctor, I know this will be difficult for you, but know that when you reach the end of the logs it will all become clear. Jim wanted you to do this.”

Before Leonard could say or do anymore, Spock had left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Len alone with Jim and the padd.

He let it rest heavy on his lap for a while before he finally spoke out loud, “Computer, shade windows.” The large windows at the front of Jim’s room darkened so he could no longer see the nurse’s station, could no longer see Chapel occasionally looking in at him.

With one final calming breath, he opened the padd and brought up the file Spock had left on the screen for him. There was a long list of logs, so he clicked on the one at the top and settled into his chair to listen as Jim’s voice filled his ears.

“Captain’s log, Stardate 2264.81. It’s been three days since our attack outside of Harmonia VI by an unknown party. Our shuttle, manned by myself and fourteen cadets in training, crash landed on an unknown non-federation planet on Stardate 2264.78. I managed to escape the crash with minor injuries, but some of my crew were not so fortunate. Our pilot, Cadet Trever Velnium, perished upon impact, Cadets VooHok and Amanda Hollis succumbed to their injuries on our second day, followed by Cadet Kent Vel-Nick this morning. The rest of us are trying to hold on, though most are in bad shape.

As for our supplies, we have rationed our small emergency kit of food as best we can. But between those of us who survived the crash, the eleven of us remaining, I’m afraid we won’t have much left to last past four days. And our medical supplies are dwindling fast, I… I don’t know how much longer I can keep my injured crew members stable, some of the injuries are far too extensive for my knowledge and lack of supplies… I’m afraid a quick rescue from the Enterprise and Doctor McCoy will be their only hope…”

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A/N: Ok, chapter two!! Getting more into the plot now! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be added to the tag list. :)

tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @weresilver-in-space

I’m also gunna tag: @medicatemedrmccoy @0dannyphantom0 @jimboy-mccoy @reading-in-moonlight and @flaminglupine

Y’all were tagged in another one of my mckirk fics, so i thought maybe you might like this one. if its not your cup of tea then just let me know :D

Thanks for reading <3

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golden-geese · 6 years ago

Note

I’m curious what are the two prompts u wanna work on? Also I’m a visual artist but sometimes when I’m not feeling inspired I work on smthn slightly to the left of drawing. So video editing, decorating my room, tracing things in photoshop, making a collage, etc and that can renew my interest in art. Idk how well that would transfer into writing though lol

those are the prompts im dying to write!!!!

that's an interesting idea............... i see how it would help w visual art, like decorating your room still has a lot to do with Aesthetic and Colors and all................ maybe if i did like....... journalling or blackout poetry or smth? it sometimes helps me to edit older stories, but it hasn't helped me too much recently

tbh it's like more than writer's block or whatever (but it isnt rlly Block bc like i can write i just can't write good shit lmao) it's like i haven't been in a super cute place mentally and also im graduating college in literally a few Days so im stressed abt that........... also like i have a 3 day trip and then a 2 week trip coming up in may and june so there's pressure to like write a lot now bc i wont be able to write 400-1,000 words a day on my trips like im used to doing at home? and i dont do well with creativity under pressure lmao

i think i need a new source of inspiration? sunny was a huge source for me this past fall/winter and it enabled me to not only crank out tons of macdennis fics, but also to get SERIOUS headway (im talkin 2/3s are finished) on an original story with ocs ive had since 2015 that ive always had a hard time figuring out what to do with

so if i got a new source of inspiration i think i would be able to return to writing sunny fics as well as quality original fiction....... maybe my travels will he inspiring?? its hard lmao i need a new show or album or book to fawn over

movies dont cut it for some reason........ if they did unicorn store would have worked :')

ok lol SORRY for writing u a whole ass novel but i cant sleep and bitches be thinkin

#ask #and THANKS for the q!!!!!

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

LIL NAS X - OLD TOWN ROAD

[6.73]

We're gonna bluuuurb til we can't no more...

Katie Gill: The problem with "Old Town Road" is that it's more interesting as a thinkpiece than an actual song. The song charting, then being excluded, from the Billboard Country Music charts opens so many questions that can't be answered in one sitting. Is this a further example of the well-documented racism in country music? Or is this just a freak accident hick-hop song that vaulted it's way out of the depths of subgenre hell? Is a twangy voice and references to horses enough to make a song "country"? Does the presence of Billy Ray Cyrus in a remix that dropped on Friday legitimize the song's credentials or just make them worse? Where was all this controversy when "Meant To Be," an honest-to-god pop song, was holding steady on the charts? There are so many questions and so many points of conversation that spring out from this song, that it's a pity "Old Town Road" itself is just okay. Everything about it screams "filler track for the SoundCloud page," from the length to the trap beats to the aggressively mediocre lyrics. The song didn't even chart on it's own merits: it charted because it's used in a TikTok meme! This is like if "We Are Number One" or "No Mercy" made their way to the top of the iTunes charts and people decided to have a conversation about the limits of genre based on those charting. I'm a little annoyed, because the conversation around "Old Town Road" is something that country music should be having... but just not around "Old Town Road." [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: There are essays upon essays to be written about "Old Town Road" as a prism for the racial divides that have served as undergirding for the modern American genre system since the 1930s division between "hillbilly" and "race" records. It's the perfect hunk of think-piece fodder: a simple core question -- is it country? -- that can spiral out to all corners of culture until the song itself is obscured. So let's focus on the song, instead. Because beyond all world-historical significance, "Old Town Road" fucking bangs. It's all in the bait and switch of that intro -- banjos and horns plunking away until Lil Nas X's triumphant "YEAAAH" (second this decade only to Fetty Wap) drops and the beat comes in. It's a joke until it's not -- maybe you came in from the Red Dead Redemption 2 video, or from a friend of yours talking about the hilarious country trap song, or from the artist's own Twitter, which is more Meech On Mars than Meek Mill, but no matter the source, you'll find that "Old Town Road" has its way of looping into your brain, all drawls and boasts and banjos. It's meme rap, but much like prior iterations of this joke ("Like a Farmer"), Lil Nas X fully and deeply commits -- he doesn't drop the pretense for a single line, keeping the track short enough to not outlive its welcome while still exploring its weird conceit to its fullest. Yet even in its jokey vibe there's some actual pathos -- no matter how put on, the lonesome cowboy sorrow of Lil Nas X's declaration that he'll "ride till [he] can't no more" feels genuine. "Old Town Road" is everything at once, the implosion of late teens culture into one undeniable moment. [10]

David Moore: So here's a true gem of a novelty song -- a phrase I use with both intention and respect; I grew up in a Dementoid household -- that could launch a thousand thinkpieces about hip-hop, country, class, the object and subject of jokes, whether to call something a joke at all, you name it. But what I keep returning to is the economy of it, its simplicity, how there is so much in so little, the way that someone on the outside can grok things inaccessible to the insiders, maybe by accident or by studious observation and a fresh perspective, the way music can be a multiverse, characters from one world complicating or clarifying or confusing the limits of another in a mutually provocative way. I'm not a backstory guy, which is to say I'm not a research guy, which is to say I'm either intuitive or lazy or both, so I don't have any clue where this came from, but I know magic when I hear it, I know what it sounds like when you discover, or simply stumble into by accident, the path beyond the bounds of territory you presumed exhausted, territory that can always get bigger, always invite whole new parties to the party. It's a real party party; you can get in. [10]

Katherine St Asaph: "Old Town Road" is the "Starships" of 2019: a song that objectively is not great, but will be called great for the understandable reason that liking or disliking it now unavoidably entails choosing the right or wrong side. This tends to lead to hand-waving freakoutery about critics not talking about the music, man, but once The Discourse is out in the world, it becomes a real and critical part of the song's existence; not talking about Billboard punting "Old Town Road" would be like talking about "Not Ready to Make Nice" as an workaday country song. The problem is not quite as simple as "the Billboard charts don't want black artists," an argument with historical precedent but now doomed to fail: clearly, people like Kane Brown and Darius Rucker and Mickey Guyton (who's left off lists like this, somehow) have hits. It's more about respectability politics. Traditionalists hate the idea of memes, social media, and perceived line-cutting, all of which means they'll hate a song born not of the Nashville and former-fraternity-bro scene, but via TikTok and stan Twitter. But what they really, really hate is rap and anything that sounds like a gateway to rap; like if they tolerate this Cardi B will be next. Country radio, for the past decade or two, has been pop radio with all the blatant rap signifiers removed; its songs aren't about cowboys or horses but suburban WASP life. Of course, double standards abound. Talking about lean is out; talking about bingeing beer is fine. "Bull riding and boobies" isn't OK because it's from a guy called Lil Nas X -- I honestly think people would whine less if this exact song was credited to "Montero Hill" -- but "I got a girl, her name's Sheila, she goes batshit on tequila" is OK because it's from a guy called Jake Owen, and "Look What God Gave Her" is OK because it hides its ogling of boobies behind plausibly deniable God talk. Fortunately "Old Town Road" is better than "Starships" -- the NIN sample is inspired, and the hook is evocative and sticky. (It fucks with authenticity politics, too -- Lil Nas X wrote his own song, but the big corporate country artists often don't.) Its main problem is that it's slight: a meme that doesn't overstay past the punchline, a song that never quite gets to song size. [5]

Thomas Inskeep: Sampling Nine Inch Nails' "34 Ghosts IV" to (help) create a western motif is hands-down brilliant, so huge thumbs-up for that. Lyrically, this is pretty empty, a bunch of western clichés strung together -- but then again, the same can be said of plenty of Big & Rich songs. Split the score down the middle, accordingly. [5]

Scott Mildenhall: But surely this is how country music should sound? Lil Nas X has performed alchemy in combining two generic styles into something inspiring, flipping the meaning of "pony and trap" on its head. The mechanical sound of trap is rusted into the mechanical sound of fixing a combine, or at least pretending that is something you might do, and such performance is fun for all the family. Well, unless you're an American farming family tired of stereotypes anyway. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: Non country (trap) beat with subtle country instrumentation? Sounds like much of country radio, only way better! [7]

Nortey Dowuona: A burning, humming bass girds under sticklike banjos as Lil Nas X rides into town to water his horse and head back out onto the open road. [5]

Alex Clifton: I spent the weekend re-enacting this scene from Easy A with this song, so it's safe to say I like it. I especially love the "horse"/"Porsche" line, which is unexpected and amazing. [7]

Alfred Soto: The usual genre conversations threaten to smother analysis. If Lil Nas X can use trap drums, then why can't Sam Hunt use loops? Silly. (Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes: "The Constitution is what the judges say it is"). The Kanye allusion ("Y'all can't tell me nuthin'") works extra-diagetically. An assemblage of modest, discrete charms held together by a solid performance at its center -- nothing more. I await the Future-Frank Liddell collab. [5]

Edward Okulicz: It's affectionate and actually quite deferential in its treatment of its parent genres. Crossovers like this have been hinted at, and gestured towards in the other direction quite a bit of late (country artists affecting hip-hop, less so the latter), and the two genres have more in common than the caricatures of the sorts of people who are supposed to listen to them do. Of course, I mean those genres as they exist today, and not in the warped imaginations of purists. You can see why kids have latched on, and it's easy to snarl at Big Chart for sticking their oar in. The kids are right; artists control the means of production and radio and chart compilers can accept that they aren't the tastemakers, and attempts to force their tastes down other people's throats will lead to a backlash. This is not a brilliant song but it's a picture of one of many potential musical futures and, at two minutes, the perfect length too. The right response is to smile, and "Old Town Road" makes it easy to smile -- it's an earworm. Sure, it doesn't give me the same immediate feeling of fuck!!! this is the best that I got when I first heard that version of Bubba Sparxxx's "Comin' Round" but country music survived "Honey, I'm Good" and it will survive this. It might well thrive. [6]

Joshua Copperman: I recently found out that I have a moderate Vitamin D deficiency, but looking up the song everyone was talking about and hearing this basically confirmed that I should go outside more often. There are definitely things to talk about: it's the logical conclusion to "I listen to everything except country and rap" jokes when the inverse has taken over the Hot 100, and it's a song that's set to hit number one because everyone is incredulous that it exists at all -- with a Billy Ray Cyrus remix to boot. The conversations about what makes a song "country" are all fascinating, but it's hard to fully enjoy pieces about something that, as an actual song, is so fundamentally empty. The Nine Inch Nails sample is interesting, but like everything else, more intriguing in theory than execution. This will wind up on every site's "best of 2019" lists, and then in ten years people will snark on how a song with "My life is a movie/Bullridin' and boobies" was so critically acclaimed. As a meme/discourse lightning rod, it's an [8], as a how-to guide for late-2010s fame, it's a [10], but there's little appeal in a vacuum. Adding a bonus point, because music has never existed in a vacuum anyway. [5]

Taylor Alatorre: Remember when the internet was still described as a realm of lawless and limitless potential, when open source could be touted as revolutionary praxis and "free flow of information" was a sacred utterance? Now one of the key political questions is whether private companies should be doing more to banish online rulebreakers or whether the federal government should step in to delimit what those rules are. Whichever side ends up winning, it's clear that the wide open spaces of the Frontier Internet are rapidly facing enclosure. Montero Hill learned this the hard way when his @nasmaraj account was suspended by Twitter as part of its crackdown against spam-based virality. While Tweetdeckers are nobody's martyrs, it's a minor tragedy every time an account with that many followers and that much influence gets shunted off to the broken-link stacks of the Wayback Machine. Rules must be laid down, but their enforcement always entails loss -- the bittersweet triumph of civilization over nature that forms the backbone of every classic Western. Maybe Hill/nasmaraj/Lil Nas X had this loss in mind when writing the jauntily defiant lyrics of "Old Town Road." Maybe he was just riding the microtrends of the moment like he was before. Still, this particular microtrend -- the reappropriation of cowboy imagery by non-white Americans -- feels too weighty to be reduced to mere aesthetics. Turner's Frontier Thesis may have been racially blinkered to the extreme, but the myths and yearnings it spawned can never die; they just get democratized. So it makes sense that young Americans, even those who don't know who John Wayne is, would subconsciously reach out for the rural, the rustic, the rugged and free, just as we feel the global frontiers closing all around us. Our foreign policy elites hold endless panel talks about "maintaining power projection" and "winning the AI race," but most normal people don't care about that stuff. We're all secretly waiting for China to take over like in our cyberpunk stories, so we can drop all the pressures of being the Indispensable Nation and just feast off our legacy like post-imperial Britain. And what is that legacy? It's rock, it's country, it's hip hop, it's "Wrangler on my booty," it's all the vulgar mongrelisms that force our post-ironic white nationalists to adopt Old Europe as their lodestar. In short, it's "Old Town Road." We're gonna ride this horse 'til we can't no more, we're gonna reify these myths 'til we can't no more, because when the empire is gone, the myths are all we have. (Oh, and the Billy Ray remix is a [10]. Obviously.) [9]

Jonathan Bradley: People suppose that genre exists to delineate a set of sounds, and while it does do that, it depends even more on its ability to build, define, and speak for communities. The question of whether "Old Town Road" is a country song or not is in some ways easily resolved: country music showed no interest in Lil Nas X -- or at least not until Billy Ray Cyrus noticed an opportune moment to complicate expectations and grab headlines -- and so Lil Nas X's song was not country. Even taking into account its sound and subject matter, his hit is best understood as a burlesque on country music, one that parodies and exaggerates the genre's motifs and themes for heightened effect. The kids on TikTok, who turned the long-gone lonesome blues of the song's tumbleweed hook into viral content, understand this intuitively: they use the incongruity that clarifies at the beat drop as an opportunity to engage in caricature and costume. And while Lil Nas X, a huckster and a trendspotter before he was a pop star, has been happy to embrace the yee-haw mantle that has been bestowed upon him, his song is a familiar rap exercise in play and extended metaphor. The Shop Boyz did much the same thing with "Party Like a Rock Star" and it would be obtuse to suppose that was a rock song. And yet, as the country historian Bill C. Malone has written, country since its inception has attracted fans "because of its presumed Southern traits, whether romantically or negatively expressed"; there has always been a bit of schtick to this sound. I wondered when we reviewed Trixie Mattel whether country is, on some level, intrinsically camp, and it's tough to declare definitively that Lil Nas X's bold hick strokes are that much more stylized than Jake Owen's performance of small town ordinariness. And just as a country music based on cohesive community rather than sound has found itself broad enough to encompass northern hair metal, Auto-Tuned club stomps, and Ludacris, the gate-keeping involved in keeping Lil Nas X out begins to look suspicious. After all, the first song to debut on Billboard's Most Played Juke Box Folk Records chart, the predecessor to today's Hot Country Songs, was "Pistol Packin' Mama," a hillbilly goof by the decidedly uncountry combination of Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters. As Malone has written, "While the commercial fraternity thought mainly of profits, the recording men, radio executives, publicists, promoters, ad men, sponsors, and booking agents who dealt with folk music also readily manipulated public perceptions in order to sell their products." One of the ways they did that was to tap into already mythological figures of American individualism like the cowboy, who is, after all, a creature of the west and not the South. "The respective visions of cowboy and western life drew far more from popular culture and myth ... than they did from reality," Malone writes of the early country singers who embraced cowboy personae; in some ways Lil Nas X's purloining of meme interest in that same culture places him within a rich country heritage. After all, when in popular entertainment has shameless self-promotion not been part of the aspirant's trade? It does matter how cultural communities react to the music made in their name, but when certain people are adjudicated not fit for club membership, it is worth asking why. Country's culture, I said recently, is "one that's implicitly but not definitely Southern, implicitly but not definitely rural, and implicitly but not definitely white," and it's easy to see how Lil Nas X doesn't fit into that. Country music's racism isn't unique to the genre -- the historical hegemonies of punk and indie rock are at least as determinedly white -- but it is particularly visible. Country is racist like the South is racist like America is racist. Lil Nas X disrupts that settlement, helping us imagine a country music that genuinely encompasses the music of the American South -- a genre that has space for "This is How We Roll" and Miranda Lambert, Lil Boosie and Young Thug, "Formation" and Juvenile, and perhaps even Norteño and banda sounds. That would be, however, not only a far different country music to what we know today, but the music of a far different America. [7]

Iris Xie: Yeet haw! Aside from the great pleasure I've had in showing this to my friends, (Me, two weeks ago: "Have you heard this country trap song???" My friends, this week: "Iris, that song you're talking about now has Billy Ray Cyrus on it??") and either slinging back and forth memey references, engaging in discussions on the state of white supremacy in the music industry while also debating about the song's merit, or hearing my friends start singing "can't nobody tell me nothing..." very quietly at any moment and I can't help but join in -- it's all been very fun. Aside from making plans to play "Old Town Road" on my next country road drive to Costco, something that's occurred to me is that this is a song boosted by the status and calamity of its metanarrative. We could always use more discussions of the double standards that Black and POC artists face in the industry when it comes to genres and participating in it, and I'm honestly glad Lil Nas X just made something that was fun and made sense to him, even if "Old Town Road" doesn't stray too much from the conventions of both trap and country, resulting in a well-balanced mashup that sounds more safe than surprising to me, but is serene in its confidence nevertheless. On the flipside of that genre-mashing, Miley wishes and is probably very jealous of her father now for hopping onto this train, lest we forget about all of her cultural appropriation attempts. But for the song itself, those long, relaxed drawls and the imagery of riding a horse to the trap beat -- why not? We live in weird times now, Black people's contributions to country music were erased, and it's kind of a relaxing song. Also, I'm a fan of the "Can't nobody tell me nothing" lyric, which has become an unintentionally defiant line in the face of all the backlash, resulting in a message to rally around. Now excuse me, as I text my friends that "I'm gonna take my horse down to the old town road." [8]

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#Lil Nas X #country #pop #music #music review #writing

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