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x0401x · 4 years ago

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Violet Evergarden Movie Summary

The initial plan was to make this a short bullet-point thing, but I felt like there was too much to clarify and I had no choice but use novel references to explain certain parts, so I decided to just write a normal summary. Many thanks before-hand to my friend Yuuki, who gave me all this info.

Apologies for taking relatively long with this thing. Not even I expected that I would end up writing this much. Buckle up for the ride, ‘cause it won’t be fun.

Nope, not kidding. It really won’t.

First thing I need to make clear is: this movie is one and a half hour long and divided into three parts and two different timelines: the times when Violet existed and the times after she dies. Already in the beginning of the movie, Violet is dead.

Yes, you read this right. She’s dead.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s dead in the literal sense. This is 60 years in the future. She might be alive or not, but it’s never said. However, the timeline of 60 years later is considered an era without Violet, apparently because she has retired and her “legend” is over, so to say. It’s also a time where Auto-Memories Dolls don’t exist. That’s one good punch in the face. Let’s keep counting.

The movie is sort of like a tale being read by someone else, which at some point goes into Violet’s first-person POV. The whole thing is kind of a look back on Violet’s life tragectory and how it took a new turn when she decided to continue looking for Gil despite all the mess of the TV series.

The era where Violet exists is an era where telephones are being introduced to the people, so Auto-Memories Dolls are starting to become unnecessary. I would argue that the creation of the telephone isn’t enough for an entire occupation to start disappearing so quickly, since new inventions are normally extremely expensive and not everyone has access to them (or even knows about their existence) so immediately after their conception. Realistically speaking, ghostwriters would still be important as long as there were still so many people unable to buy phones. Not to mention that this is a steampunk world where compulsory education doesn’t seem to be a thing yet, so even in the off chance that everybody can buy a phone, there would still be a lot of people who can’t read or write on their own. But all of this clearly went over the animators’ heads, so not only ghostwriters but also the mail business in general are nearing their doom in the movie.

The one looking back on Violet’s life was Ann, who was telling it all to her granddaughter, Daisy (who, by the way, is voiced by Morohoshi Sumire, the same girl who voiced the seven-year-old Ann). Ann had kept all the letters that Violet ghostwrote for her mother, as well as the newspapers about the CH Postal Company. Looks like the article was printed after Violet left CH, since she isn’t in the picture with everyone else.

In this era, CH’s main office has been turned into a museum. Nerine is shown working in it. Of course, she’s a grandma by then. Speaking of the CH personnel, Erica also quit being an Auto-Memories Doll and became a playwright like Oscar. She appears in the newspaper, though, so she probably a while left after Violet did. Taylor also appears there.

Back to Daisy, she was writing a letter to her parents, in order to learn how to properly convey feelings with written word. The message of this scene seems to be that, no matter the tools, what’s important is that we convey our feelings to the people we love.

As we see in the trailer, Gil’s mom has passed and Violet runs into Dietfried when visiting her grave on the anniversary of her death. To anyone who is wondering: yeah, Gil never went to see his mother and she died thinking that he was dead.

Nobody knew that Gil was alive. Not his mother, not Dietfried, not the Evergardens and not even Hodgins. No one.

Here’s what happened to Gil in the anime: he survived the incident at Intense, of course, but got separated from Violet in that explosion. His tag miraculously stayed on the same spot, though, as we saw in the TV series. Now, since this isn’t explained in the anime at all, I have to make it clear: the tag is that necklace the soldiers wear. It contains their names and ranks, so that their bodies can be identified even when they’re irrecognizable. Without the tag, the people who rescued Gil had no idea who he was, so he was sent to a different place to get treated. He ended up at a monastery hospital instead of the one in Enchaîné. I would debate that his uniform alone is enough to identify him as someone from the Leidenschaftlich Army, or maybe they could’ve just asked him which troop he belonged to after he woke up and relocated him to where his fellow men were, but who even cares about all these plot holes anymore? Definitely not me.

Anyway. After Gil was discharged, he ran the fuck away. Like, literally.

If anyone out there was hoping that Gil would finally have his moment to shine as the self-sacrificing, thoughtful and ridiculously kindhearted character that he is in the novel, I have bad news for you. What we had here was even worse than it being Gil’s excuse movie. It’s like the whole thing was made to drag his character so deep through the mud that he’ll never be able to get up again. There’s pretty much nothing in this one and a half hour that actually justifies what he did to Violet. I’ll elaborate on this as we go on.

Anime!Gil became a nomad and went traveling. He offed his ass to the island where that lighthouse displayed in the most recent official art is located (that’s why Gil and Violet were at the beach on the movie poster). He doesn’t have a prosthetic in the anime because, apparently, he was more worried about disappearing as fast as possible to somewhere he would never be found, and never attempted to contact anybody. So nobody knew that he was alive, hence the grave, which, as we feared, was not a fake one. His family really did think he had died.

This is a point that I have already addressed before, but that also means Gil really did abandon Violet to luck. If anything dangerous ever happened to her (as it did, and it was always very obviously likely to happen, since she was the southern army’s most outstanding soldier and quite literally fled from the military), he wouldn’t even know. If word ever got to him, it would probably be too late. And even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. More than allowing her to live freely, it felt like he was running away from his responsibilities regarding Violet.

Punch on the face count is currently at six.

By sheer coincidence, Violet learns that Gil is living in that island. She goes to see him and Hodgins goes with her after trying to stop her at first. When Gil finds out that they came to see him, he outright refuses to meet them. It pretty much takes the near entirety of the goddamn movie for them to see each other face-to-face. I say face-to-face because all of the following shit happens:

Hodgins goes to talk to Gil. It lasts about 20 minutes.

Gil talks to Violet from behind a door. This one is about 10 minutes.

Dietfried also comes to the island to talk to him. Also about 10 minutes.

At long fucking last, Gil goes to see Violet. But that, too, is only for about 10 minutes.

Hodgins gives him a speech very similar to what happens in chapter 8. Now get ready to fall back from your seats: Dietfried basically goes there to tell Gil that he won’t run away from taking over the family anymore, so Gil can live freely. Yes, Dietfried is officially a better Gilbert than Gilbert himself. I crave death.

So, after much ado, they come to a conclusion: Gil will stay in the island. In order to completely free himself of the shackles of his bloodline, he stays behind, living the way he wants to. ‘Cause all anime!Gil wants is to rot away alone by the sea, apparently. Now prepare yourselves, for it gets worse. Ready?

Violet stays with him in the motherfucking island.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Another fear became true. She quits her job at the CH Postal Company and goes to live with him. Well, at least, not as a housewife. She starts working with mail services in the island, and Gil helps her with it. Her life goes on like this and she dies in the island as well.

This is where the timeline after Violet passes away comes into light, parallel to the era when Violet was alive. Daisy talks about what happened after Violet left CH, as if it were a tale from the distant past.

That’s it.

The movie paints this as a happy ending. I can hardly see it as one. I know it almost looks like everything was solved, but it just got swept under the rug.

The main point that makes me sad in this ending is that Violet’s character development did a 360 degree flip. In the end, she threw everything to the air and went to live in someone who she always put before everyone else, even herself, but who didn’t do the same for her (in the anime). She’s gone to a crammed little island, where she led an uneventful life away from everyone and everything that’s ever had a positive impact on her. All she has is Gil.

Of course, he’s all she needs, but he isn’t all she should have, and that was the entire point of pushing her to go live on her own. Which is exactly what she earns in the novel: two loving parents, a father figure, a brother figure, a best friend and several other friends and acquaintances whom she formed a bond with. She has all she needs, so she doesn’t have to cling to Gil for any reason. There’s no emotional dependance on him anymore. She doesn’t need him to be whole. She just wants him because he happens to be the best person she’s ever met.

Anime!Violet is most definitely not whole. She almost got there, but then she backtracked completely. And anime!Gil... in my friend’s words, is a weakling. There’s nothing in him actually worth all this undying blind love. Sure, he’s full of regret and shit, but it’s too easy to only act upon it now, by vanishing into thin air like a coward.

The deal with novel!Gil is that he looks around at everything he has, everything that had been burdening him and killing him on the inside all his life, and decides to make use of it for Violet’s sake. He continues being family head and working in the army, amassing money and connections in order to have every means possible to protect Violet should anything happen to her. And as it turns out, he does end up having to use those means, more than once, but he will keep this up for as long as he needs to, because he lives for her now. That’s what makes him worth all the blood, sweat, tears, mental sanity and even body parts that she gave away for his sake: he pays it back. Every cent.

Punch in the face count ends at twelve. Thirteen if I include the fact that the movie ends with a last shot of Violet after she and Gilbert do a pinky swear. Looks like they were really trying to buy everyone with tears.

Oh, well.

I hope this has been a good enough summary. Sorry if I rained on anyone’s parade. I’m pretty sure we won’t get a remake ever, so I really wish we all can get over this soon.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #kyoani #kyoto animation #violet evergarden movie #summary #gilbert bougainvillea #claudia hodgins #dietfried bougainvillea

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Mine

13. Agust D

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.2k

I have a surprise for you guys in this chapter!!! 😊😊 Aaaaand we’re all set up and ready to go for the finale!

2 Months Later

Anacortes, Washington, USA

The distant sound of a bell pulls me back to reality, and I turn to face the wind. Waves are pushing their way onto the shore, the choppy water fighting for my attention.

I watch as the ferry grows ever closer before putting my earbuds into my ears to answer my incoming phone call.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” I smile as I close my eyes.

“Really? What a coincidence. What are you up to right now?”

“Just about to board the ferry. You?”

“I’m going to head to bed soon.”

“Wow, so early. You’ve become so disciplined!”

Yoongi’s breathy laugh fills my ears and I can almost picture him rolling his eyes if I close my eyes tightly enough. “I’m assuming you’re not available to facetime?”

Frowning, I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, too many people around. You’ll just have to deal with the beautiful sound of my voice.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

It’s been two months since I last saw Yoongi outside of Bong-cha’s apartment. The chill that comes with currently residing in the northwestern United States is almost the same as I felt that morning when we said goodbye.

‘Young Rising’ came out just over a month ago, and it’s received a lot of success. Thankfully it was just enough to help me land a role that is already receiving speculation for possibly being a critically acclaimed role.

It wasn’t the one I originally wanted, that role went to Bryce Dallas Howard. I suppose I’ll have to try for a 1700’s romance some other time. This time around I get to play the daughter of one of the first lighthouse keepers in the United States and all the crazy events that unfold. It’s fun, and getting to take the ferry out to the San Juan islands here in the state of Washington is an added bonus.

My favorite part of the role? Every morning I get to sit here and watch the ocean and talk to Yoongi.

“Rude, but I’m not surprised. Isn’t it barely midnight there? You really are heading off to bed early.”

“Yeah, it’s midnight. What can I say? It was a long day and I’m exhausted.”

Now that I listen closer, I notice the hint of tiredness in his tone. “Why? What happened today?”

Yoongi sighs as I get up to board the ferry. Another great thing about being here in Washington? It’s cold and rainy enough that nobody bats an eye at me. I’m decked out in my raincoat and my beanie is pulled down low. During this time of year there aren’t many tourists either, so most mornings it’s just the ferryman and I. Today there are a couple of small groups milling about, though.

All the better. It gives me an excuse to not facetime Yoongi and have him laugh at my bundled up state. Which, for the record, he finds hilarious.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

There’s a second hesitation before he speaks up again. “I miss you.”

It’s a blow straight to the heart, and I cling to the railing so as to not fall overboard. We try not to dwell on our current state too much, things are complicated enough. Still, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one struggling with this.

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“I don’t know, you like making fun of me and how weirdly sentimental I can get-”

“Soft. That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“...right. How could I forget.”

“I miss you too, Yoongs. A lot.”

It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a little while, so I just lean up against the railing and watch as the ferry begins to edge out to sea. Once again I close my eyes against the crashing waves and try to convince myself that I’m sitting in the genius lab or making a mess of things in the kitchen.

How could a span of less than a week affect me so much? It’s a question that I’ve come back to many times over the past couple of weeks. Occasionally I get a moment of understanding. Sometimes that understanding comes late at night as I cuddle up in bed, propping my phone up to chat with Yoongi as he sits at his desk in the genius lab and tells me about what he’s working on.

Just watching him mumble incoherent things under his breath and seeing his eyes flit back to his phone to check that I’m still there makes me realize that there’s so much going on here. So much going on whilst being so far apart.

At least the media frenzy has died down a bit. Sure, there’s still a lot of theories tumbling around, but the mobs of heartbroken fans seems to have lessened significantly.

“Are you sure that’s everything, though? What else have you got going on?”

“What, me missing you is not enough?”

I chuckle into the phone. “Nope.”

“Fine, you caught me. We’re finishing up the final touches on the mixtape and I always just get really stressed before a release, you know? Like you did the night before ‘Young Rising’ premiered?”

Shuddering at the memory I groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me. But what is it exactly about this mixtape that has you so nervous? I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve released one. Maybe whatever helped you de-stress last time will help you this time around, too.”

There’s a long pause but I wait patiently for him to speak. The island is just coming into view now, I’ve probably got about fifteen more minutes before I’m officially on the clock and have to hang up.

I hate that part.

“I’m not so sure...it’s different this time around.”

I frown. “What’s so different? You’re even more loved?”

A wry laugh on his part. “No, not that. It’s just...this mixtape, these songs...they’re even more personal this time around. Sure, I’ve talked about some pretty personal things on my previous mixtapes, but this time around the entire mixtape is personal.”

That’s news to me. Ever since Yoongi changed the concept of the album he’s kept everything under lock and key. He told me he kept most of the tracks, ‘My First Mistake’ obviously being one of them. Other than that, though, I have no idea what to expect.

“Yoongs...I think that will make this mixtape your best one yet. Really. People will be able to relate to it, and they’ll love you even more for it. Just, get some sleep tonight. You’ve worked your hardest - don’t try to brush it all off, you’ve nearly worked yourself to the ground over this mixtape! - and that’s all you can do. I’m absolutely positive it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Car. So what scenes are you doing today?”

We get lost in the conversation for the remainder of the ferry ride before suddenly the ferry is coming to a stop. I hurry off the boat, the tell-tale change of tone tipping Yoongi off to what I need to do.

“Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Get some sleep!”

Yoongi chuckles. “Will do. Have a great day.”

I sign off the phone and roll my shoulders. One of the producers, Melissa, is waiting for me in a little golf cart.

“Hey Cara, ready for the day?”

Grinning at her, I jump into the passenger seat. “Definitely.”

🌙

It’s the middle of the night when I’m awoken from my slumber, and I groan as I contemplate just turning my phone off. It was a late night, I’ve probably only been asleep for a couple of hours at this point.

When I see who’s calling, though, I pick up.

“Bong-cha?” I ask blearily. “What’s up?”

“Have you listened to it yet?!”

I hiss as Bong-cha screams into my ear. “What are you talking about? Did you and Jimin finally kiss or something?”

“No, you idiot. Yoongi’s mixtape!”

My eyes widen and suddenly I’m completely awake. “His mixtape? I-it’s out? When?”

“It just dropped like an hour ago! Didn’t he tell you? I mean, I get that he wanted to surprise everybody, but I thought he’d at least tell you.”

I’m already on my music app, searching for Agust D. When I finally hit search, I scream involuntarily.

“That little punk! He didn’t even tell me!”

“Wait, Cara!”

“What?”

“Just, listen to it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, weirdo.”

“No, but really listen to it. I mean, it’s about you.”

My chest stops rising as my air gets cut off. “What do you mean it’s about me? We already knew about ‘My First Mistake’-”

“No, not just that track. I mean it’s all about you. Just look at the name of it! Isn’t it a little weird that he didn’t stick to his m.o. and title it ‘D-3’?”

I was in such a rush to click on his profile that I didn’t even bother to look at the title. When I do, I come gasping up for air.

Mine.

Written there in big, bold letters is the word mine.

“That doesn’t mean any-”

“Nuh-uh, you listen to the mixtape and then we’ll hash out the details. Got it?”

“Fine. Call you in the morning?”

“Isn’t it already morning for you?”

“Yeah, 4!”

“Right. Yeah, call me later.”

Clicking off the call, I take a deep breath to steel myself before clicking on the album. 8 tracks stare back up at me, most of them I recognize from that first night in the genius lab. The leading track is ‘My First Mistake’, which makes me smile. When my eyes trail down to the final song, I can’t help but click on it.

My Last Mistake. Turning the volume up, I sit back against my headboard and listen. And then, note by note, I fall under his spell.

Yoongi’s heartbroken voice talks about details of his life, how he goes by many names. The world knows him by Suga. His true fans know his other name, August D. Min Yoongi controls the strings of those two personas. A heavy beat pounds out the words alongside him.

Then the music slows, becomes calmer. Clearer.

In the most tormented voice he can manage, Yoongi talks about a girl that called him Yoongs. He talks about a girl driving under the stars that called him Yoongs and how in that moment, he decided that none of the other names mattered anymore, just so long as he could hear her say it one more time.

As the song falls from its crescendo, Yoongi brings up his last mistake.

“What’s your last mistake, Yoongs?” I whisper, hoping for an answer.

He answers it a moment later, the same melody from ‘My First Mistake’ being played out, only this time it’s on the guitar rather than the piano.

He’s reminded of his last mistake every time a plane flies overhead and he can’t run fast enough to catch it.

🌙

The entire mixtape is hauntingly beautiful.

As I finish listening to “Naksan”, a song set Naksan park, and what I assume to be the gazebo that overlooked Seoul, I lean my head back and sigh.

There is so much we don’t say. There is so much that Yoongi has never said, but now I’m beginning to realize why he was so nervous about this mixtape.

Here, crammed into these eight songs that talk about everything from t-shirts to being oceans apart, Yoongi says everything he never could before. It’s obvious, painfully so. He didn’t try to cover anything up.

I am so dead.

Yet, I can’t find it in myself to care. The only thing I wish I could do right now is show up at his apartment and sit down on his couch. Maybe eat some food, and watch as he fumbles for an explanation to this mixtape that is no longer a mixtape but more a cry out into the void.

And of course, don’t even get me started on the title track. The song that the album is named after, “Mine”.

In it Yoongi recalls his dreams of having a big car and house, and how he gets to call all those things his now. He has it all, essentially. And yet, the one thing he wants more than anything is far from him.

‘I have it all, I hear them say it. I have it all, they chant over again. When will they realize that it means nothing to me, if I can’t call you mine?’

Dragging myself to check Twitter, I see what the number one trending topic is right now.

#Mine

And in second place?

#CaraisMine

Somehow, I can never quite make it to first place. How disappointing.

Groaning as I realize that the sun is about to come up, I linger over Yoongi’s contact information.

One call. That’s all it would take. A single phone call, and maybe everything would change. But what would I even say?

Hi, it’s the girl that’s ridiculously in love with you. Do you feel the same way? Great! Let’s end our careers and live in Fiji!

As enticing as that sounds as I watch the rain pouring down, I know that it’s unrealistic. I’m here, caught up in some strange, long-distance relationship that’s technically not a relationship.

And Yoongi’s there, hopefully receiving all the praise he deserves for coming out with yet another great mixtape.

So I just let the dim light from my phone fade out before slipping back down under the covers. I know what Yoong is thinking now.

Ball’s in my court. But how on earth do I return it?

🌙

Seoul, South Korea

“And she still hasn’t said anything about it?”

Yoongi knows that Taehyung is trying really hard to understand his current predicament, but if he asks him if he’s heard from Cara one more time, he’s going to lose his mind.

“No.”

“Have you reached out to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sighing, Yoongi rubs his hands over his face. “First, because it’s only 8 o’clock in the morning over there. Second, I basically just told the world about my feelings for her, I think I can give her a little space to breathe before jumping on her.”

Taehyung plops down beside Yoongi, his eyes wide. “You’re really stressed, aren’t you?”

Somehow the question makes Yoongi laugh. “You think?” He feels restless; he has for the past two months. He thought releasing the mixtape would diminish that feeling, but instead it’s been heightened to the point that he can’t hardly sit still anymore.

Which is saying a lot, because Yoongi loves sitting still.

“Hyung?”

“Hm.”

“I think you should borrow my car and go for a drive or something. Just get out for a while. You’ve been cooped up in this studio for weeks; it’s messing with your head.”

Sometimes Yoongi forgets how much everyone cares about him. It’s in times like these that he remembers. Without saying much else he takes Taehyung’s keys that he extends to him and heads out.

When he gets into the car, he doesn’t know where he’s going. His mind is filled with worry and doubts and worst of all, regret. Was he too blind in his feelings that he overlooked Cara’s? After all, maybe she’s listening to the mixtape right this very moment and wondering why he would write something like this.

Maybe she hasn’t called him yet because she’s trying to come up with a way to let him down easy.

Yoongi drives and drives, turning up the music so as to drown out the thoughts in his head. He drives on and on, clueless to the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he should really be heading back to the apartment now.

When he parks before a lit path that leads up, Yoongi realizes that his body knew this entire time where he was going.

Without questioning it further, he hops out of the car and shrugs on his coat and mask. It’s late enough that hopefully most people will have had the sense to go home.

As Yoongi climbs up the path he only passes a couple of people; a couple that are too tangled up in each other’s embrace to even notice him. The path continues ever upward until he’s panting, but he’s grateful for the burn in his lungs. For a brief moment, his mind isn’t consumed by the what ifs of his current situation.

As Yoongi clears the final steps, his gaze immediately turns to the gazebo just down a ways. It’s the same as before, the night a similar one to that night when he watched Cara from afar before mustering up the courage to go talk to her.

Tonight there is one major difference. As Yoongi edges closer, there’s a tightness in his chest. There’s some part of him that half-expects Cara to appear, leaning up against one of the pillars and looking out at the city.

As Yoongi steps into the gazebo, that wish vanishes into thin air.

It’s empty.

Cara is not here. Yoongi is, though. Which has proved to be the most miserable thing in the world over the past two months. Cara is gone, but somehow Yoongi is still here and seeing her everywhere he goes.

The songwriting and production process is enough to make anyone go a little insane. Usually, once the project is finished, Yoongi feels like he can finally breathe again. He’s able to enjoy the fruits of his labors.

Not tonight.

At first he laughed at himself, back when he’d first started learning about Cara from Bong-cha and curiosity overcame him. He thought it was silly of him to want to learn everything about her and what it was that made her tick. There was just something about her that made Yoongi dive right in.

Of course, the boys had noticed. Even Bong-cha, who hadn’t known him for very long, had noticed the difference Cara had made. That was before they even met. Before any of this had even started.

Yoongi knows his place. His place as one of the most famous stars in the world, his place in the group’s dynamic, his place among his family. His place among ARMY. Yet, when he met Cara, it was like the ground disappeared under his feet and he’s been falling ever since.

He used to come to Naksan park often and just think. He’s not one for hiking around outdoors, but something about the view and the beautiful architecture of the gazebo and old city walls that line the path have helped him think.

He used to stand where Cara stood, and think about everything. However there was one topic that he tried to avoid at all costs: love. It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in love or didn't want it; if he’s learned anything from his time with ARMY he’s learned about love. But there was always this giant, impenetrable wall that stood between him and love.

Yoongi knows his place, and because of that clear role he has also always known that him falling in love with someone other than his fans was off the table.

That night when he came to meet Cara, he was coming to tell her just that. He was coming to tell her that he was a horrible human being that was dangerously close to breaking that unspoken rule, and he needed to mark a clear line in the sand. Friends, he had thought We can still be friends.

Yet, as he’d watched Cara head to the same spot; the same pillar he had frequented so many times, his words had gotten caught in his throat. She’d looked out over the city and Yoongi would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

Instead, he’d just asked for what so many people had been unable to give him throughout his career.

Just someone to sit in silence with.

No demands, no questions, just be together.

And as Yoongi sat swimming in his feelings, Cara’s head resting on his shoulder, he learned something about himself.

Yoongi had avoided the topic of love for so long not because he didn’t think it was appropriate for his lifestyle, but because he’d known deep down that the chances of him finding someone he was willing give everything up for were nearly nonexistent.

Cara’s hand was wrapped up in his, sharing his pocket. Quiet breathing, feeling warm despite the oppressing chill. No demanding answers, just sitting together.

He had realized that while he was looking for someone to convince him to leave everything behind, he was sitting beside someone that already understood. Someone that would never tell him to abandon it all just to be together.

He was sitting beside someone that might just be open to the possibility of being together, and would be open to the chaos that would ensue. There was no need to change everything to be together, but there would be the need to fight for that privilege of calling Cara his.

As Yoongi now steps into the gazebo and rests on the bench opposite from where they had sat, he remembers when it all started.

The night after he’d watched ‘Under Nine’, he’d felt restless and wandered up here. It was the first time in over a year that he’d come here. He knew why he didn’t bother to anymore; he didn’t feel inspired anymore when he looked out over the city.

Yoongi had seen the world, and he’d fallen out of love with it.

It was a horrible, lying, cheating thing. He’d seen too much suffering, fought so hard against it just to see evil rise up again and again.

Yet when he came up here that night after watching Cara on screen and seeing that humanity can be beautiful even in all its flaws, something amazing had happened.

He looked out over the city, and a little spark had jumped up in his heart. That night, Yoongi looked out over the world, and began to fall in love again.

Yoongi has never been very confrontational. Some may think he is simply due to his status as a rapper, but that’s never been the case. However, he is known for his undeniable work ethic. For his unending effort to obtain what he thinks he deserves.

When Yoongi placed a letter into the mail a few days ago, he was reminded of why he was going to do everything in his power to make this work.

When he looked at Cara, he thought that she deserved a chance at love, too.

Giving one last look out at the city, Yoongi gets up and stretches. There are a lot of uncertainties swirling about right now, but there is one thing he is completely certain of.

He is going to do everything in his power to give him and Cara a chance.

🌙

Anacortes, Washington, USA

I have mail.

It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten mail, but I can’t fight the feeling of dread as I wonder if the awkward pleas from fans are about to start up again. There’s a single envelope addressed to me sitting on the ground in front of my hotel door, which I scoop up before heading back inside.

No work today; we’ll be taking a two week break to wait out the rainy season before picking things back up again. I’m grateful for the small reprieve, I would much rather stay cuddled up in my blankets today while I try to wrap my mind around everything.

I haven’t reached out to Yoongi yet. Granted, it’s only 10 am, but I still feel a little guilty. I just want to make sure I have my thoughts in order before I freak out, you know? After all, there’s still a chance the mixtape being about me is just a coincidence...right?

Stacey, my PR rep, just got off the phone with me. Nobody really knows where I am right now, which is good. There are perks to being holed up in a small town in the northwestern United States.

She gave me an earful on how many calls she’s received over the course of the last few hours from various magazines and gossip collectors. When she asked me if there was a statement she would like for me to relay, I blanked. Stacey just laughed and said she’d come up with some vague for the time being.

My attention returns to the item in my hand. Cautiously opening up the letter, my brows furrow as I take out a small slip of paper and a piece of thick cardstock.

Cara,

Hopefully this gets to you when it’s supposed to. I thought of just sending you an email but that seemed to detract from what I was going for. You understand, don’t you? When you told me about your break from work, I managed to pull some strings. Follow the directions on the back of this letter, I’ll be waiting for you. And no, I can’t do this over the phone. It’s an ‘in-person’ kind of thing.

Yours,

Yoongs

Flipping the letter over I frown when the directions are in French. Then, scrambling for the cardstock, my mouth drops open as I see just what Yoongi is talking about.

One boarding ticket for tomorrow morning, leaving at 10am.

Destination?

Paris.

Previous - Next

only one chapter left! 💛💛

taglist: @eusticenatalie @agustneeds @prdshobi @oceandeep @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah

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raguna-blade · 4 years ago

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So i’ve had this floating in my head for a while and well...There’s going to be some obvious straightforward “That’s absolutely not what they intended, I can’t envision it as a thing cause I mean it’s that.”

But I wanna talk about the way the gacha mechanics reflect on the story of Arknights.

So here’s the thing. It’s all about trust. Literally it’s all about trust. One of the things that Arknights makes really clear in it’s story is that there is a very very real problem with people just taking things on faith and listening to each other. The big central conflict, as of now, with the issues between the infected and the non? All of it is based on a massive breach of trust because the infected to a man know that the uninfected are going to make their lives a living hell, even if they’re a model citizen. Hell even if they’re part of the big wig nobility upper class it’s basically a crapshoot if catching the in game plague is going to torpedo you to the depths of the pecking order and ruin your life or “merely” have you waste away from a degenerative disease that causes rocks to grow out of your skin, is horrifically painful, and can cause wild and terrifying super powers that can have you control temperatures wildly, suddenly start reading peoples minds, or create a horde of zombies (although admittedly these require training to use, let alone use in combat but it does seem true that the powers kinda work without it albeit probably much worse)

So trust is a big thing here obviously, and that leads me to the next point.

The Doctor is the sketchiest motherfucker I have ever seen in my life. They’re this mysterious person wrapped up in a coat that exposes exactly none of their body, they down sanity potions like water, they’re a super tactical genius the likes the world hasn’t seen, and also save for your scary Medicine Boss Lady and Their Adopted Kid (who runs your hospital knight order) nobody knows anything about them at all.

And the few people who DO know the doctor from the past seem keen to stay the hell away from him (excluding Boss Bunny, which actually considering what the Doctor was like right before their amnesia should PROBABLY be more concerning?)

And the last point before I start tying this all together, from all indications story wise? Any and all Operators that you choose to use are already there. They’re already working with or are a part of Rhodes Island proper. They’re in the background sure and they may not know the doctor personally but they are already there is the important thing.

Barring certain event characters tied to certain events they’re already part of Rhodes Island in some way.

Which leads me to my little gacha connection.

The Gacha here indicates a willingness to trust the Doctor (and perhaps if we’re gonna dive into this further, a broader connection and willingness to support RI’s cause, and an active display of trust because you know this dude is going to be sending you into a combat zone. In a story where people sometimes just hot die because sorry bro it’s a war story at least in part)

Now i’ll admit the specifics of the gacha don’t work for this perfectly because you’re calling back the same people sometimes which has weird implications (although I think you could chalk it up to doctor getting to better know people and how to pull the very best out of them if we wanna keep the story mechanic connection strong.) There’s only so much you can do with what is mechanically just rolling the dice a bunch...

Except...The Pity Mechanics have neat little implications too! There’s the Guaranteed 5/6 Star mechanic, as well as the guaranteed 6 star after I think it was 100 Rolls, as well as the Guaranteed Limited Character when you roll 300(???) times on their banner.

And Recruitment via the papers works here too.

One sec lemme order the thoughts a bit better

The Headhunting and Recruitment Rolls are, in universe terms, a character actively signing on to work with the Doctor Specifically, as well as signing on fully with Rhodes Islands objectives and ideals. It's not enough to have a business deal with them for treatment of you or your people. It's not enough to have a roof over your head. It's not enough to simply have another place to fight, or access to the person you want to fight.

You are trusting this mysterious no face no history manipulator to put you into combat situations with utter monsters and you're trusting them to either see you through it alive (which is a thing they're eeriely good at) or at least to have your death really tangibly mean something (also something in short supply on Terra). You're trusting this organization that simultaneously wants to heal the world of a horrifying disease, protect those who are infected, and also seemingly really make the world a better place (fat chance)

Not to mention the counseling the Doctor also seems to provide which you know...

That's absurd. It's insane.

And it's reflected in both Rarity Level, as well as the manner of recruitment.

Tag Recruitment pulls mostly from a pool of people already associated with Rhodes Island, with the vast majority being low level recruits. Basically all of 3* and below come from RI, and of 4* up only about half do.

That is to say, using the method that costs you the least amount of money and effort (Originium is, in universe, actually pretty valuable and useful if also you know the source of the plague) most of the people that you can actually recruit already sign on to RI's whole thing for one reason or another and everyone else is there for a variety of other reasons.

The people recruited are also generally unskilled, owing to largely being newbies or generally just not being super tough, but then this also plays into it.

RI is in general, or at least ideally anyway, a Hospital First and Military anything a distant second. Ideally, but it doesn't necessarily play out that way (or at least we as players don't get to see it, and there does seem to be a general work if you want treatment but the portrayal so far scales the work to what you can do. Kids gotta work too but for them it's like...Make some Origami, play and go to school and that's your work which could be sinister sure but seems mostly not)

But even accepting that conditions for infected are awful basically everywhere, leaving your home is a big ask, and fighting for people who may in fact end up fighting against your home is also a big ask. It's not something you're gonna see low level folks do by and by.

But the people recruitment DOES pick up who are those higher level folks? They're generally sent specifically to Rhodes Island if they didn't come specifically because they're some of the foremost scholars on the subject of Originium Infection and so on. A lot of them don't have a choice.

Understandably, no matter how skilled or powerful or conneted they are they're not gonna wanna work with you or put themselves in danger for no real reason

And then you have the cases of people who are or were leaders in their field, arguable or actual royalty, people who hold massive amounts of power who are just...Not going to trust like that. They're wise to the world, and they know what's up.

That they're also massively personally powerful is perhaps a side effect of being so high up in the ranks because when you have people who can and do hop out of planes for a snazzy entrance with no harm and at least 8 kinds of completely uninfected Juggernaut Nightmares not being absolutely shredded when you're the big leader of a place is a liability.

Which ok that tracks, but Headhunting? Headhunting is where you start finding people like Skadi who are just...Absolute freaks of nature being honest. You start seeing people who have even less reason to want to have anything to do with Rhode Islands, more guarded, more independent, less reason to be actively into RI despite being there (like Popukar who's a kid)

And then you have the limited pool characters like W and Nian who have ample reason to not want to deal with the Doctor or are just kinda bumming around and Could Help but don't want to (with secret implications to being basically a Kaiju)

And getting them is difficult and painful and nearly impossible because they don't WANT to interact with the Doctor or perhaps really want to put the effort in to do anything at all.

All of this I think is pretty sound so far. Generally speaking, higher ranked characters have less need or want to deal with the Doctor and the Larger Rhodes Island, in addition to be just being from other locations entirely.

What I think makes this more interesting though, and continues on the gacha story link is the pity mechanics.

So, going with the idea that recruitment is more or less deciding to interact with the weird person who tries to eat originium slugs(!?) it makes the decision of various high ranked operators deciding yeah you know what I'm going to go talk to this weirdo. A LOT of people seem to trust him and that's perhaps concerning, but also well...It's a lot of people. People I know (in all probability. Especially in the case of banner rolls where there's usually one or two people who know the high rank units), and even then there's some wild folks in there deciding to put their faith in them...And Heck I'm already here so why not.

And of course that feeds into the trust mechanics too mind you. The more a unit is used, the more the doctor is demonstrating their small extension of trust is proven a good decision. The Increasing potentials is understandable as the doctor coming to a greater understanding of the individual (indeed they're all tokens of trust in some way shape or form aren't they? Things that Mean something to the Operator, even if they're implied to be things that they hate to think about or be connected but still unfortunately mean something that they can't let go of). And or, for that matter, the Operator becoming more open around the Doctor. Becoming more willing to show their full strength, and honestly, playing on the trust angle, isn't it interesting that so many of the operators talents don't come into play until they've been upgraded once or even twice? But hey if we look at it through the lens of Do I trust this person, some of these talents suggest really impressive things which maybe you don't want this guy who you barely know but you're at least willing to work with to know just in case it doesn't work out. TO say nothing else of the fact that upgrades COST. It's a massive investment of money time and supplies to get an operator up there.

Which, to come back to gacha and the pity mechanics, for the two limited characters to call for (at maximum mind you. Luck as always is a factor but you know) truly EXCESSIVE amounts of rolls, and rolls that call for you burning a massive amount of supplies? It can read as, honestly, an attempt to reach out to this isolated person. Mind it's just an extension on the pity bit from before, but given the limited nature it could also be read as a “I am trying to get to know you please respond?”

And For Nian and W that may well mean something. It's a degree of effort that could read as interesting and or alarming given their respective personalities and histories.

But well..that's about as far as I can pull this I think. As always there's going to be an aspect of well “it's monetization don't think too hard about this it's for that cold hard cash” which is absolutely and unfortunately true. Still, I think it's interesting that it DOES line up as well as it does here. If it's intentional that's really cool actually but still.

#Gacha Mechanics #Story and Gameplay Integration #Arknights #W Arknights

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heavencollins · 4 years ago

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Top 10 Films of 2020: Part One

2020 was a rough year for a lot of reasons, but even more rough due to the lack of an existent film industry for over half of the year. Sure, there are small productions happening and movies being released on VOD, as well as some in theatres, but so many great films were pushed back this year—movies I was excited to possibly have on my top ten. Minari, Promising Young Woman, Zola, The Green Knight, Saint Maud. Okay most of those are A24 releases but A24 literally released next to none of their slate for this year and it’s one of the most disappointing things to happen in the entertainment industry in my opinion.

Alas, I still found cinema through streaming, paying $20 for a VOD rental, and those amazing $1.80 rentals from Redbox (remember when they were only a dollar? because I do). And honestly? It was probably the hardest time curating a top ten that I’ve had in a long time; with so much just available through the internet and owning every single popular streaming service, it was both impossible to watch everything I wanted but also since I watched a lot of what i wanted, I ended up loving most of it. For a year that was so dismal in every other way possible, the films that were released ended up being a shining light more often than not. Of course, like every other year, a lot of hot garbage came out too, but that isn’t the focus of this—the great, amazing, can’t believe these are real films.

So let’s start from number ten. This was my first and only $20 rental this year, starring a man who I personally admire: Pete Davidson.

10. The King Of Staten Island, directed by Judd Apatow and written by Judd Apatow, Pete Davidson, and Dave Sirus.

Judd Apatow is one of the first directors who I watched religiously, and hearing that he was doing a film with Pete Davidson that was essentially based on Davidson’s life meant that I knew I’d have to watch it. Scott, played by Davidson, is a twenty-something with no direct path in life; he lives with his mother, his sister is going off to college—something he never attempted—and he has no real career. His father died in a large building structure fire, much like Davidson’s actual father, a firefighter who passed away while responding to the twin towers during 9/11. Scott is emotionally a wreck, plagued with depression and anxiety, a chronic weed smoker, and dreams of being a tattoo artist that he practices by tattooing his group of rag-tag friends, but none of the tattoos are very great.

The thing about an Apatow film is they border the line between comedy and drama very well, kind of a complicated little dance. But, King of Staten Island is very much a drama more than a comedy. Bill Burr plays Ray, the father of a kid that Scott tattoos earlier on in the film. Ray comes stomping up to Scott’s mother’s house, and Margie, played by Marissa Tomei, opens the door. It’s essentially love at first sight. She hasn’t dated since Scott’s father passed, and to make matters worse, Ray is also a firefighter. This complicates emotions for Scott, as he loves his mother but also doesn’t know how to deal with the feeling that his mother is finally moving on and may face heartbreak again.

Davidson puts it all on the table in this film. It’s poignant and realistic; at the start, Scott is driving down the highway and closes his eyes, way longer than you should. It sets the tone from the start that this man isn’t okay, but also he’s scared of dying because as soon as he opens his eyes again and sees he may be about to crash, he quickly panics and readjusts his wheel. This struck a chord with me as most people know that Davidson has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past. It’s a beautiful film that memorializes both how much Davidson’s father meant to him, but also the cycles of grief and trauma that last throughout your life.

9: Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), directed by Cathy Yan and written by Christina Hodson.

Suicide Squad is one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen period, fact. Birds of Prey is one of the best movies I’ve ever seen period, fact. I never, ever, ever thought I’d see a day where a DC movie was in my top ten, but this year anything is possible. Birds of Prey is a display of feminism, badassery, and all around perfection. You jump right into the story, hearing Margot Robbie’s classic Harley Quinn voice laid over an animation showing what we missed in her life so far, which means you don’t have to have any previous knowledge of the other films. Birds of Prey is meant to stand alone from any other movie preceding this one, and that’s just part of why it’s so great.

This film knows not to take itself too seriously. Margot Robbie is a dream as Harley Quinn, using just the right amount of playfulness to put a little edge on her, while also maintaining the manic-panic-pixie-dream-girl effect. Perhaps the best scene is when Harley goes and purchases the perfect egg breakfast sandwich, and then she drops it, causing a dramatic slow motion effect that proves she really does love that sandwich more than anything in the world. Or her realistic apartment, nothing truly fancy, just a little hole in the wall above a rundown Chinese restaurant. But then she has an amazing ensemble of other women actors around her, which are what really uplift her performance.

The funhouse fight scene at the end may be the best in superhero movie history. I mean, I guess, is Harley Quinn really a superhero? She’s kind of the anti-hero, which is what makes her so great. She’s somebody who isn’t even close to perfect but she still succeeds and tries to help and uplift the other women on her team. There’s just something special about this movie that made me smile and laugh the entire time. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to have fun every once in a while.

8: The Assistant, directed and written by Kitty Green.

For those who don’t know, I work as an assistant during the day for a small business here in Vermont. The work is mundane but it’s a job that’s giving me experience for the future. In The Assistant, Jane, played by Julia Garner, is an assistant to a “powerful entertainment mogul.” She gets lunch, answers phones, is the first one into the office, the last one out of the office, finds herself overshadowed by her male counterparts and getting the majority of the “grunt” work, and becomes more and more aware of what’s really going on at this office throughout a day in her life.

What’s interesting about this film is nothing is ever seen; everything Jane starts to feel is just based on intuition. Her boss is tricky, finding ways to keep his abuse of women out of the public eye, out of the eye of any female employees. This is obviously in response to #MeToo, Times Up, and the Harvey Weinstein news from the last few years, and it works surprisingly well as a film that just unnerves you and gets under your skin.

The reality of assault in the film industry is that until it’s widely public and known, nobody is going to know about it. You can report it to your company, to other women, to other men, to anybody, and nobody will take you seriously until they either experience it themselves or know somebody else who has. The Assistant hits the ball out of the park with the ending, even if it doesn’t give a vindictive satisfaction to viewers, because it’s simply the truth of the matter.

7: Tenet, directed and written by Christopher Nolan.

I really don’t know what to say about this one. It’s really controversial to like it but I absolutely LOVED this movie, it’s pure fucking vibes. A lot of people are cinema purists, which I am not, and will never claim to be, which was a huge deal with this film. Personally, this works way better at home than it ever would in a theater. It’s slightly long, the sound mixing makes it so it can be hard to hear dialogue over loud noises and the score, and it’s the type of movie you may have to rewind a few times.

My partner and I watched this in 4K Ultra HD with subtitles on, and let me tell you, it was amazing. Everything about the acting, the diversity in the film, the fact that Nolan literally has a character say “Don’t try to understand it, just experience it”???? VIBES. That’s all I can say about it. Plus, Elizabeth Debicki plays an actual badass who stands against her abuser and that enough is five stars. A tall queen standing up against her short joker—absolute feminism.

Sure, no character gets any development, but is that seriously necessary for every film? It’s an action flick about time and space and none of it makes sense and you can’t force it to. Why does everything need to make sense in a time where we are literally living through a pandemic? Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the experience of Tenet. It’s more fun when you don’t take it seriously.

6: The Devil All The Time, directed by Antonio Campos and written by Antonio Campos, Donald Ray Pollock, and Paulo Campos.

I never read the book this was based on, but this film made me want to. I love a film where multiple plot lines converge into one central story and this one did it so well, all with the same theme surrounding every single character: the guilt of sin and how no matter how much you think you can save yourself, you can’t truly save yourself. I’m not a huge fan of Tom Holland, but he shines as Arvin from beginning to end. Pattinson brings a creepy southern preacher to life with an accent that he will never be able to match again. Keough gives a performance you can only sympathize with as you know she’s being manipulated the entire time. Every character in this is corrupt in their own way but some in worse ways than others.

I don’t know how much to say about this one without spoiling it, either, because the core of this film is on the characters and what leads to their untimely ends, because pretty much everybody ends up dead. It’s grim and dark but it’s so beautiful and tells the story in a way that keeps you interested throughout the entire run time. It surprised me but there’s never truly been a Robert Pattinson starring movie that I’ve hated, so am I really surprised? I’m a TwiHard at heart even at age 22.

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imjustthemechanic · 4 years ago

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils

Peggy finally asks about the coordinates, and gets an offer she cannot possibly accept.

Peggy showed her badge at the police station, and they let her inside. She descended the stairs, and asked the man standing guard over Lake’s cell to step outside for a moment. It all gave her a terrible sense of déjà vu. This was exactly what had led up to facilitating Dottie’s escape, wasn’t it? Except this time it was going to be different, she told herself. This time, she had no use for the woman behind those bars except for satisfying some curiosity. Once she’d established to her own satisfaction that she wouldn’t be able to get any answers, Peggy could go back to her hotel and maybe even sleep for once.

Lake was lying on the cot with no blanket over her, curled up and facing away from the bars, her back gently moving as she breathed. The shackles were lying in a heap on the floor. Nobody had tried to enter the room to replace or remove them, which was probably wise, but they did draw Peggy’s attention to the fact that Lake was not attached to the bed.

Signs had suggested that the girls in training in Siberia were always handcuffed to their beds at night. Similar marks on the bedposts had appeared in every room they knew Dottie to have stayed in. Peggy had spoken to a psychologist about this, and he had agreed with her initial hunch that the handcuffs represented a perverse form of security. If the girls’ keepers shackled them to their beds, it meant they weren’t going to have to up stakes and flee in the middle of the night. With the cuffs on, any surprises would be real surprises, not sudden training exercises.

Lake had shown she could get out of the cuffs easily, so the fact that she hadn’t bothered to put them back on suggested that she was expecting something to drag her out of bed that night. Something that would happen so quickly, she might not have time to bother about her handcuffs.

If she thought that something would be Peggy breaking her out, she was going to be sorely disappointed. Peggy rapped on the bars.

“Miss Lake,” she said calmly.

Lake rolled over and sat up. “Yes?”

At least, Peggy thought, it was good to know this woman hadn’t been sleeping like a baby while Peggy herself lay staring at the ceiling. She stepped back to be out of arm’s reach. “Was anything you told me this afternoon true?”

“Truth is a matter of circumstance,” said Lake.

“No, it isn’t,” Peggy said. “When I say…” she thought for a moment, and chose a random historical event. “When I say William Herschel discovered the planet Uranus, that’s true. It happened.”

“He said it happened,” Lake countered. “You’ve only got his word for it. Maybe he found it in somebody else’s notes, somebody who never published it, then located it again and took the credit.”

“Details,” said Peggy.

“The devil’s in the details, Peggy,” said Lake.

“I know,” she nodded. “Now… perhaps you can give me some details about this.” She held up the sheet of paper, still covered with fingerprint powder, but with the numbers and the drawing still clearly visible. “Those are your fingerprints. You put this in my purse. That happened, no alternative scenarios possible. What is it?”

Lake looked as if she were considering several possible answers, and Peggy thought that if she said it was a piece of paper she would reach through the bars and strangle the woman.

“It’s where the Valkyrie crashed,” said Lake. “You already figured that out.”

“Why did you give it to me?” asked Peggy.

“Because I wanted you to have it,” was the reply.

“Why?” Peggy insisted.

“Because I think that’s what Captain America would have wanted.”

She was probably right – he probably would have. Peggy was on a short list of people Steve would have trusted to memorialize him without trying to make use of his earthly remains. Of course, Howard Stark would also have been on that list, and that hadn’t turned out so well. For a moment Peggy wondered how Lake could have known that, but then she remembered the films. Everybody who’d seen those knew that Steve carried a picture of Peggy in his compass. Once Lake had determined that she was a real person, not an actress, it would have been an easy conclusion to come to.

“How do you know that’s where he is?” Peggy asked.

“Because I’ve been there,” said Lake. “I’ve seen it.” She stood up. “The Valkyrie came down with the port wing lower than starboard. It hit the ice, broke through it, and tore off.” She used her hands to suggest the motion. “The fuselage rotated away, crashing through the ice as it went, until the starboard wing got caught on the rocks at the edge of the island and stopped it. The cockpit filled with water immediately and the windows popped out, forcing the pilot out of his seat and out of the airplane. His body settled back on top of it as the water froze again.”

“He wasn’t wearing his harness,” said Peggy. Of course he wasn’t. He never did.

“He’s lying on top of the plane,” Lake said, “with his eyes shut, like he’s sleeping. He must have been knocked unconscious immediately. I don’t think he felt a moment’s pain. His shield is on one arm,” she assumed the same position, “and a fist in the other, as if he’s clutching something.”

The bloody compass. Lake’s descriptions were so vivid, Peggy could almost see the crash happening in slow motion in front of her eyes. She wanted to believe it had happened that way… the devil was giving her the details with a smile on his face.

“Who knows about this?” Peggy asked.

“I do,” said Lake. “And you do.”

“Who else?”

Lake shrugged. “The Inuit who live around there probably know. They’d have seen it come down and they might have investigated, but I doubt they’d disturb it once they realized he was dead. The ice would protect him from wolves or bears, and as long as a corpse isn’t going to be scavenged, they’re not worried about it.”

Peggy nodded slowly. It was all so believable, and yet the only way to know if any of this were true would be to travel fifteen hundred miles and look for herself. How convenient.

“Let me guess,” she said. “If I let you out of this cell, you’ll take me there.” Except that Lake would almost certainly vanish post-haste and never be seen again.

“You don’t need me for that,” said Lake. “You have the coordinates. You can go on your own.”

“And leave you here unsupervised?”

“I’m in jail. What can I get up to?” Lake’s face was the picture of innocence.

“Miss Lake, the more you imply that you want me to go elsewhere, the more certain I become that I need to stay right here,” Peggy told her.

“That’s up to you. But be careful what you do with that page,” Lake said, nodding towards the paper. “It’s not that hard to figure out what it means, and there are people who would kill for it. And I told you twice now, call me Kay.”

As Peggy walked back to her hotel in the darkness, she murmured the numbers on the page to herself over and over. Seventy-four. Forty-seven. Thirty-five. Ninety-five. Twenty-five. Three. She repeated them until she was absolutely sure she could never forget them, that she’d be reciting them under her breath on her deathbed if she lived to be a hundred. Then she burned the page, and flushed the ashes down the toilet.

She climbed back into bed and shut her eyes, and realized that she actually did feel sleepier now. The encounter hadn’t taught Peggy anything much, but she did have an inkling of what Lake might actually be trying to accomplish. She wanted to ruin Peggy’s reputation, and possibly the entire SSR’s. She wanted them to mount a very expensive expedition to the arctic and come back with nothing, having wasted valuable time and taxpayer money on a tip they knew wasn’t trustworthy. They would look like fools, and people like Masters would turn it into a public scandal and shut them down.

That fate was easy to avoid, though – all Peggy had to do was never tell another person about it, ever. She’d already told Agent Russel, but he hadn’t seemed very interested at the time and by now had probably forgotten all about it. As long as Peggy didn’t remind him, it ought to be fine. Or perhaps she ought to have a word with him about it, just in case. Surely of all people, an FBI agent could keep a secret.

Nothing in Peggy’s world was ever that simple, of course, but this was early days. There was still time to keep a lid on it if she played her cards right.

Between her bout of insomnia and her late-night interrogation session, Peggy slept late again, though not so late as yesterday. It was around ten thirty when she woke up, and the first thing she noticed to her great relief was that her face was finally starting to feel better. When she looked in the bathroom mirror, she found that the redness had faded quite a bit, though she was still quite puffy. Washing stung, but it wasn’t the agony it had been twenty-four hours earlier. She almost looked like a human being again.

“Seventy-four,” she said to the mirror. “Forty-seven. Thirty-five. Ninety-five. Twenty-five. Three.” The numbers must be a red herring, but Peggy didn’t want to forget them. Just in case.

She still didn’t wear makeup, but she stood a little taller as she walked to the SSR, and the sun wasn’t as painful as it had been. A couple of the ladies on the switchboards said good morning to her, and mentioned that she looked much better today. Peggy thanked them, and took the elevator up to the SSR.

There was a nasty shock waiting for her there.

A large table had been placed in the centre of the room. There were papers strewn over it and coffee mugs and half-eaten pastries around the edges, but most of it was taken up by a large map of the United States with a series of pins in it. Peggy had a similar one in her apartment in Los Angeles, chronicling Dottie’s known movements. This one had more pins, and standing at the head of the table, talking to Thompson, was Kay Lake.

She was no longer in her gray prisoner’s uniform. Instead she was wearing a white jacket with black polka-dots and a black skirt with white ones. Her hair was done and she was wearing makeup and gloves. The women’s straw hat hanging off the corner of one of the chairs must also be hers. She looked up as Peggy walked in, and smiled.

“Good morning, Peggy! You look like you slept well!” she said.

“Good morning, Kay,” Peggy replied. “So do you.”

“Morning, Marge,” said Thompson.

Peggy took a moment to picture herself standing alone in the bombed-out ruins of Coventry Cathedral, screaming at the top of her lungs. Once she had at least imagined indulging that urge, she said, “Jack, may I have a word.”

“No,” he said. “I took your recommendations into account and came to a decision. I think you’re letting a personal feeling of rivalry with these women cloud your thinking, and I want to remind you, you don’t even work for the east coast office anymore.”

“I see,” said Peggy stiffly.

Thompson looked around. “Would you excuse us a moment, gentlemen?” he asked. “And Kay?”

Various heads nodded. Lake flashed a dazzling smile and said, “of course, Jack.”

“Thank you. Carter?” Thompson waved for her to follow him. She did so, but she was seething. Everything he’d just said and done had been designed to humiliate her: refusing to talk on her terms, dismissing her concerns, accusing her of bias, and then forcing her to talk privately on his schedule. He’d better have something to say for himself, or she was going to head straight back to California. Frankly, there was probably nothing Thompson himself would like better.

In the office, Thompson shut the door, and then turned to face her. “I know you don’t think I know what I’m doing, but I do. Before she left that room we got prints and mug shots, and they’re on their way right now to every border crossing, air- and seaport in the country. If this goes wrong, she’ll have nowhere to run, and she knows it.”

“Does she,” said Peggy. She left off the question mark on purpose.

“These girls’ whole schtick is we’re supposed to underestimate them,” Thompson said. “We think they can’t be that dangerous because they’re women. So turn that back on her. I’ve got two CIA guys in that room undercover and there’s another pair of them watching from a car across the road. If she moves we’ll be ready, and until then, she thinks her feminine wiles have worked.”

“So that outside was for her benefit?” Peggy asked suspiciously. It would certainly be enough to convince most people that Jack Thompson didn’t care what a woman thought.

“Yes,” said Thompson. “Now, if you don’t want to help, I’ll call Daniel and you can go back to California. If you do, your job is to hang around and question everything I say so I can tell you not to be paranoid.”

“Business as usual, then,” Peggy remarked. She glanced through the window to the main room… Agent Russel was there, standing against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, looking like he wanted no part of this fiasco. Lake was laughing at something one of the other men had said, for all the world having a marvelous time.

“I’m not going to stay just so you can pretend to bully me,” she decided. “I will call Daniel myself.”

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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nostalgic-pancakes · 4 years ago

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Room 73- Chapter 1/8

There is a being that lives in the chemistry building of Haley-Dove Secondary. It has been there longer than anyone’s living memory, and nobody questions it anymore.

Pairing/s: (Eventual) Romantic Prinxiety, Loceit and Pintroverts/Karrot Kings, Queerplatonic Intruality and platonic DLAMRT(N) with mentioned background Kailliot. Romantic (married!) Remile and mentioned Sanders Shorts characters.

Read on AO3!

Word count: 2950

Warnings: Mentioned bullying, allusions to the foster system, perhaps minor disassociation? Paranormal elements.

Other notes: So many thanks to my Beta (!!!) Juicyboxers for looking through this fic for me- and teaching me so much stuff about dialogue!! So if you notice that the dialogue here is better than the dialogue on my other stuff, than thank him!

Anyways, without further ado... (tinny drumroll)

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There is a being that lives in the chemistry building of Haley-Dove Secondary. It has been there longer than anyone’s living memory, and nobody questions it anymore.

It’s a strange one, a space completely fuzzed out by something resembling static, but if that static could exist, could take up space, be real in a way static really can’t be.

The being lives on the third desk to the right, second from top, room 73. It seems to be on friendly terms with the thing that sometimes screams in the courtyard and the witch who lives in the woods surrounding the town. It doesn’t seem to like the slamming locker much, but it doesn’t hurt anyone, so nobody cares.

It lingers, at that desk, watching boys and girls and everyone in between study the sciences as the years go on, seeing the building as a boy’s school, then a bomb shelter, then a public school classroom, watching. Nobody knows what the being is, really, but it’s there, so nobody will say anything.

Across the country, three people grieve quietly.

…

”BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”

“Shu-Shuddup, Pat...” Groaning slightly, Janus lifts his covers from his head, just a little, to flip the bird at his brother, who clearly understood the concept of ‘don’t wake someone up before sunrise’. “...lemme sleep.”

Pat doesn’t seem to realize this, clearly and he continues making obnoxious beeping noises at him. Stupid Pat and his relentless cheer never letting Janus brood enough to fit the aesthetic.

“Alright Pat, let’s get up then. Besides, this has to be better than middle school.” Janus feels bad almost immediately for bringing that up because Patton’s eyes cloud over some, before clearing themselves up and his brother smiles again, a little wider, beckoning Janus out of bed.

“Pat, could you pass me my cape?” asks Janus, holding out his hand expectantly. He’s moderately surprised when there’s nothing there after a few seconds. He glances over, and his brother’s looking at him a bit cheekily.

“Aww Janny, couldn’t you possibly go without it for our first day? You wear it all the time!” Patton replies, picking up the cape and throwing it to him, Janus catching from below. It’s routine.

“No, and you know it. Now, slacks or skirt?” asks Janus, sifting through the small clothes pile Patton kept out for the week

“Skirt, please! The one with the suspenders?” “You have no taste”

“Says the guy wearing the cape, Jan.” when Patton takes the skirt, it brushes against the wall first, promptly setting off a chorus of whispering flowers gossiping. Jamus is really, really lucky that Patton hasn’t realised that that’s a viable way to wake him up.

Deeming themselves acceptable, they both go downstairs, with Patton skipping down the steps more than anything, and Janus trying to avoid the cracks on the eighth, sixth, and second steps. The shadow in the creaks always snarled at him if he stepped on a crack, and it was, frankly, annoying.

Emile and Remy were already in the kitchen, Emile making (slightly charring) breakfast and Remy brewing coffee while simultaneously downing his fifth cup of the stuff, shifting from foot to foot to some mid-2000’s pop playing from Emile’s phone.

“Hey there, small fries! It’s eggs and toast for breakfast, so gobble up before you go- breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Exclaims Emile, as soon as he catches sight of Patton’s yellow skirt in the stairwell. Remy looks up from the coffee pot, acknowledges Both Janus and Patton’s existence, then nods and brings out two more mugs, one yellow and black and one yellow and pink onto the kitchen island, next to the Steven Universe and ‘I’ll sleep when I’m Dead’ cups respectively.

“Hi, Emile! I’m so excited for today- do you think Jan and I could make some friends today?” asks Patton, still smiling as he elbows Janus for the latter part of that sentence. Janus turns around, knocks the perpetrator’s elbow, and grins, sitting down to accept his burnt eggs and coffee while Patton gets his burnt eggs and sugar concoction. Remy takes up the seat on Patton’s other side, grunting as he downs his sixth cup of coffee and Emile swoops into his husband's space, plucking the empty cup from Remy’s hands and not letting him get a refill. Remy grumbles a bit, but there’s no real malice- this is routine, always has been, as long as there have been witch-hazel plants growing along the house and as long as Remy and Emile have known each other.

Emile plops down with his breakfast and his coffee mug- always too much milk- and turns to face Patton, straightening his sweater vest, beaming in a way that fools a lot of strangers into thinking that Patton’s actually biologically related to him.

“I think you two can, Kiddo! With the right people, you and Jan could set the world on fire!” he cheers, and even though the smile’s a bit smaller around the end, the statement is sincere.

“Hey, arson is fun.” quips Janus, and Emile gasps, but clearly is holding back a grin, while Remy is straight-up (nah) cackling, as Patton chokes a bit on his eggs at the deadpan delivery. Janus doesn’t make an expression, just puts another bite of eggs in his mouth, scraping the edge of the plate with his fork. He cringes at the sound some, but it’s over in a second, thankfully.

It’s only about ten minutes later that he and Patton are at the doorway, book-bags packed and ready to go, with Remy and Emile waving, does Janus finally realize that yeah, High School is starting, and he’s terrified. A year without Patton at his side constantly is crazy- they only have two common classes, and that means this year will have the longest amount of time they’ve ever been away from each other since meeting every day. Patton’s scared too, Janus can tell, because the hand that he’s using to play-guide Janus around (“Because you’re a SLOWPOKE!”) grips tighter and tighter every metre closer to the bus that the two of them get, till it’s nearly bruising, the same colour of the whispering flowers down by the creek.

But they make it to the bus in time, and it’s good that Patton and Janus are holding onto each other so tightly, because of the swarm of kids piling in. Without that grip, they might not have been able to snag an empty seat to sit in together, right across a kid their age, sitting with his back ramrod-straight, wearing glasses and… going through this year’s textbooks? Nerd. But hey, Janus likes dissecting Shakespeare, so what can he say?

The bus starts going, from dirt paths in the residential area to a better built road as they all get closer to the main town, with the offices and shops and buildings and well, the school. Everyone looks a little exhausted, and some even look a bit excited, but nobody here is really memorable except for textbook-kid. Midway through the ride, as the view of the woods on everyone’s right starts thinning out a little, the witch who lives there waves, and her daughter, who’s apparently on top of the seats, in the luggage shelf (because buying buses from airports makes total sense), hangs upside-down, grinning wildly with her tangerine-colored hair falling out first, as she waves to her mother, still wearing her gathering-dress. She vanishes again soon after, lugging herself back up, but that’s no matter. She seems happier there anyway.

As the sun starts to rise in earnest, a lot of the night plants growing along the bus poles start shrinking away, letting the morning glories take centre stage for a while as the bus pulls over into the schoolyard, with the kids who took their bikes here already in their classrooms or on their way there, it’s a bit of a frenzy.

Janus takes a look at Patton, whose nerves that had been kept at bay for the moment while taking the scenery coming back in full force, and tries to smile for him. His brother deserves that much. Patton relaxes, and gives Janus’s hand one last squeeze before getting off the bus, and immediately hunting for his homeroom. 9-D, Janus thinks. He’s in 9-C himself. He sighs and trudges forward, seeing the witch’s daughter and glasses-guy enter the same classroom and hoping this doesn’t end like middle school.

…

Logan and Virgil Varma are in no way looking forward to school. Never have, really. Brings too much back about being too ‘weird’, or ‘scary’.

“Pssh, other kids are scarier” mumbles Virgil darkly under his breath while putting his bike away. He notices Logan behind him, fresh off the bus, putting his biology textbook in his bag (more like stuffing it, but Virgil isn’t about to say anything)

“Virgil, I do not think that you should say things like that when ‘other kids’ can hear you, especially if I could hear you-” Logan’s cut off by Virgil, who smirks.

“Three feet away, I know, L. But you have one thing nobody else does-”

“Superhuman hearing!” They finish off together, knowing this routine by heart and then some. Logan giggles, and Virgil automatically feels better than before for making that happen. His smirk turns into a bit more genuine of a smile as they finish the walk into homeroom together, in the same room for once, thank fuck. Virgil really needs to thank his Mom for pulling that off. She really pulled some strings for Logan to have a better year this time ‘round.

9-C. That’s his and Logan’s homeroom. When Virgil looks inside, he sees a… decently eccentric class lineup. There aren't many high schoolers in this place, so there’s only about ten people here. Hildi, who he’d hung out with in middle school, who waved at him enthusiastically, fiery hair flying about. It’s infectious, so Virgil smiles a bit back and waves too, albeit a little less excitedly. Well, there’s one person Virgil knows.

There’s a person just behind her who’s dressed up like a nineteen-twenties mobster, with the yellow-black aesthetic and cloak. He has a giant scar along the left side of his face which looks a bit like snake scales, so Virgil’s going to dub him ‘Snek Boy’ for now. There’s two people next to him, too. One looks like the ‘Chad from the horror movie’ archetype incarnate, and is flicking spitballs at the other kid in front of him, who smiles and passes him a stim toy. That person’s most likely an introvert, with all the pins on his stuff. Well then hello, fellow pintrovert.

Virgil inhales, knowing that he’s about to run out of time to stay at the doorway without looking weird, and takes the seat just behind Logan. Back row, no sun from the window. Logan turns back to face him, and Virgil does his best to smile reassuringly. He’s… relatively sure it worked, because Logan smiles as well, adjusts his glasses and turns back to face the front of the class, where the teacher enters. They look decently severe, tall, and wearing a tweed coat over a sweater vest, in extreme contrast to his dark skin tone. He puts his files down, cleans his glasses and turns up to face the class.

“Hello. My name is Corbin Robinson, and I’m your homeroom teacher for this year. I use he/him pronouns!” the severe expression tapers off into a bit of a smile as he finishes off his sentence. “Now, could all of you come up here and introduce yourselves? Preferably with your preferred name, pronouns and one fact about yourself that pertains to your personality!” he takes out a notepad, and steps to the side. Chad walks up and clears his throat after about ten awkward seconds.

“Uh, hi! My name’s Brian. Brian Cornwall. I use he/him pronouns. This is my boyfriend’s jacket! We’re wearing each other’s jackets for good luck today!” Ch-Brian finishes. He’s blushing furiously by the end of his statement, but the entire room (Virgil included) is clapping for him anyways, so he ducks down a bit to go back in his seat. Professor Corbin’s looking at Virgil now, and what is he gonna say what if he’s dumb and says something wrong and--

Hildi hops up to the front of the room, and Professor Corbin’s attention is on her for the moment. Thank god. She winks at him, and he smiles weakly back.

“Hi! I’m Hildi, the witch’s girl and I use she/her pronouns! Fun fact about me… uh, I once got to find out who’s hand the disembodied hand in plaza belonged to- Some guy called Andy from the thirties.” Hildi finishes with her hands crossed on her heart, the typical greeting that her coven uses. Virgil nods and crosses his hands as well.

Professor Corbin’s eyes wander around the class, to find whoever hasn’t spoken yet, and they land on Virgil. Since Hildi’s gone up, the eyes stay there. Virgil takes a steadying breath, and fiddles with a loose string on his hoodie.

“H-hi, I’m Virgil. Virgil… Sanders.” Great he’s already fucking this up why did he do this--

Okay, breathe. In two three four, hold two three four, out two three four five six seven eight.

“I use he/him and they/them pronouns, but I don’t really mind whatever you do end up using for me, and uh… fun fact about me?”

“I’m a twin, and my twin’s the coolest person on this planet.” he finishes, and tries his best to smile over the nerves. He feels good, though, praising his brother. Logan smiles, properly now, even as he burrows himself into his shirt best he can. Virgil smiles back, and makes his way back, trying to get his breathing back under control. It works, and he’s breathing just fine by the time Logan walks up, shoulders set.

“Hello,” he waves. “My name is Logan Ejiah Sanders, I use he/him pronouns and am Virgil’s twin. A fun fact about me is that I only use blue coloured stationery.” Logan finishes, clipped as ever. He’s careful with what he shares these days, and using solely blue stationary is something that can just be summed up as a personality quirk, instead of something wrong, the kinds of wrong that made teachers sigh and avert their gaze or puff irritably or what made him cannon fodder to other kids.

Logan’s nervous, and Virgil wishes that he could’ve done something sooner.

The introductions slip by after that, Janus, he/him, vitiligo scar, Nico Flores, they/faer, aspiring writer, because Virgil’s too floaty to care. Hildi passes him a floating earbud, and he takes it.

…

Roman really doesn't know what to expect from high school. In the stuff he reads and watches, it's portrayed as this ecosystem with really strict rules. His family calls it the most idyllic time of their lives. College students call it hell. So yeah, Roman's confused.

Remus is in a different class entirely this year, which isn't weird, so he doesn't know why he thought that? Stupid brain.

Roman was already in a shitty mood, having had to skip out on seconds of bacon because he'd already eaten too much this morning and might have to miss lunch later for club sign-ups, which is terrible. He's hoping that at least his class isn't too bad this year. Haley-Dove is a small town, but small doesn't always mean nice. He'd know.

(Roman can't get the words out of his head anymore.)

Both Mitchell and Croft were forced to change schools from Haley-Dove Secondary but what if there are new people?

Roman shakes the thoughts out of his head. School. First day. Homeroom. Class 9-D. This is doable. Just breathe, 4, 7, 8 and walk into the classroom. You can do it Roman, where's that confidence? Wait don’t answer that question just GO--

bump

“Hi! Sorry, I was so clumsy. Hey, I’m Patton!”

Roman first needs to decode that sentence before answering. Okay- Patton, sorry for bumping into Roman. Okay. Greeting, so greet back. Performance time, baby!

“No problem, Patton! I’m Roman!” Patton visibly cheers up in front of him, skirt swishing sideways a bit in the wind. Patton notices Roman looking at the skirt starts talking again.

“Uh.. he/him pronouns- but my gender is weird, yanno?” Roman did not know, but it seemed to matter to Patton, so he nodded and smiled a bit.

“Tis alright! I use he/him as well! Now, what homeroom address have you got, dear Patton? Let us make haste!” Patton giggled at Roman’s antics, meaning it was working. Good. Both of them fish into their pockets for a piece of paper they got at the entrance, unfolding it. Roman’s reads 9-D, as expected, along with Pattons’s.

“Hey- this means we’re in the same class! Woo-hoo! That means one new friend, huh kiddo?”

“Kiddo?”

“Sorry, I call my friends that.” Patton looks sheepish, as if he doesn’t expect Roman to react well.

“Oh no problem, dear Patton! I look forward to going through this year with you!” they both giggle, and Roman actually feels like they can be friends- Remus will be proud.

“Well, I am too! C’mon, let’s go- we’re already a bit late for homeroom.”

Roman looks at the clock- 8:02. They are officially two minutes late. Remus is probably in class already, if not just to pull a prank on the new homeroom teacher, meaning Roman had better get to class already.

“Yes! Onward! To academic achievement!”

…

The chemistry room is a little cold all of a sudden, and something has clearly woken up.

School’s in session, everyone. Hope you’re ready for this.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts janus #ts virgil #ts roman #tw bullying mention #tw foster care #series: room 73 #vee's writing #sanders shorts characters #ts emile #ts remy #prinxiety #loceit #intruality #tw food

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underthedekutree · 4 years ago

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Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

#long post #legend of zelda #majoras mask #young link #fierce deity #zelda theory #wow i cant believe i never realised i wrote fuckig outset island instead of koholint im dumby af

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

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Flatbush & Atlantic: part iv

And here’s part iv! I’d love it if y’all would reblog, this is a work I’m really proud of and the more people it’s shared with the better! My inbox is always open, and I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if it’s just “AAAAAH.” Enjoy!

part i part ii part iii

part iv

December 12

Cass grimaced, looking over at the tab on her laptop that had the Islanders game open. They were down 3-1 late in the third, and it didn’t look like they were going to be able to pull it off. It was the last game of a ten day roadie, and they had lost all but one against the Red Wings right at the beginning. And the Wings were 10-21, so it wasn’t even a confidence booster. To make matters worse, Mat was on a points drought; he hadn’t gotten an assist, let alone scored, since the first game of the trip, a 4-1 loss to the Blue Jackets. They also were playing a few players down, an MCL sprain and the ever-vague “lower body injury” kept the team from being at full strength.

As the game came to a close, she didn’t even know if Mat wanted to talk to her. His relentless dedication was one of her favorite things about him, but it also led him to take things way too personally and be way too hard on himself even when — especially when — the situation didn’t call for it. He was probably beating himself up as the boys headed back into the locker room, being short with his teammates and trainers and whatever poor sports reporter had been sent to ask “how they planned on snapping this unfortunate streak” in the post-game interviews. He’d never be deliberately mean or unkind to anyone, but just like anyone, her boyfriend got stressed and overwhelmed and didn’t always know how to deal with it. I saw the game, she texted him, I’m proud of you. Call me if you want.

Dec. 15 (wed)

Mat had barely spoken to her since the return from the roadie, and it was starting to get on her nerves. Texts were responded with single words, if they were answered at all. They were supposed to have visited the Met yesterday , but that hadn’t happened either. He had cancelled, saying that “some team thing came up” and he wouldn’t be able to make it. Barely apologized. And what pissed Cass of more than almost anything was that she wanted to help, she wanted so badly for him to just talk to her, she wouldn’t judge him or make him feel like he was a shitty player or a shitty person, but she couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even picking up her damn calls. Who do you talk to when there’s almost nobody in the world who understands the position you’re in?

Maybe that was just it. She’d go to the people who did understand. Paige had added her to the WAGs Whatsapp group the week prior, and from everything she had gathered so far, it was exactly the sort of place to go for advice. Cass pulled up the chat, torn between not wanting to seem like she was oversharing but not really sure what else she could do. Hey, guys, she started. Mat’s been taking the losing streak pretty personally (as I’m sure a lot of your guys are) and seems to be pulling away. Any advice? I don’t want to push him but I know it’ll get worse if he just keeps it all bottled inside. Clicking send, Cass sighed, leaning back in her desk chair and trying desperately to study for her Environmental Law final.

At some point after midnight, she closed her books and laptop with frustration. The test wasn’t until next week, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to study as distracted as she was. She grabbed her phone, heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth and check the group chat. No fewer than six of the women had written back, some of whom she hadn’t even met, with long, sympathetic paragraphs overflowing with advice. She read them all, touched by the time, effort, and care that everyone has put into making her feel just a little less anxious. But the overwhelming message was clear. Find balance, but don’t let him blow you off. Be a support system, but you’re not his therapist. And repeated again and again, Talk to him.

She tapped out a message before she turned her bedside lamp off, hoping that with morning would finally come a proper response from Mat. Can we meet for coffee tomorrow morning? You know as well as I do that we need to talk. I’ll be at Donahue’s at 8.

Read: 12:23 AM

Dec. 16 (thurs)

Her foot tapped nervously, hands clasped tightly around the cup in front of her and beanie pulled over her head, curls poking out from under. He had read the text, but Cass had no clue if Mat was actually going to show up or not. He hadn’t responded. It was ten past eight, and Cass was just about ready to give up and head to school early. She had just put her laptop back in her bag when she caught Mat out of the corner of her eye. He gave her a small smile, equal parts nervous and almost — bothered? “Hey,” he said softly, unzipping his puffer coat and sliding into the chair opposite her. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Suddenly, the whole elaborate speech Cass had prepared, about letting her in and supporting him and communication, left her mind. “Yeah.”

“So, talk,” Mat said, with a slight edge to his voice.

She looked down at her cup. “I get that you’re disappointed about the losing streak. I get it and I’m sorry that you’re not doing as well as you hoped —”

“I don’t think you do get it, Cassidy —”

She cut him off. “Let me finish, Mathew. I’m sorry that you’re not doing as well as you hoped, and I do get how shitty it is when you know you’re putting in the time and effort and practice and it doesn’t seem like anything’s working, but you’ve barely talked to be about any of it.”

“‘Cause I don’t want to,” Mat mumbled.

Cass leaned back in her chair. “And I get that. I get if you don’t want to talk to me. But you’re not talking to anyone. You’re not talking to Tito, I asked him and he said you’ve been just as closed-off with the team. You’re not talking to any of the other guys. And I’d bet you’re not talking to your parents or your sister either.”

No one gets it!” Mat said in frustration, a little louder than was necessary. “I go through so much shit and have so much pressure on me and…” He trailed off for a minute. “I don’t want to disappoint the team, I don’t want to disappoint the fans. I don’t want to disappoint my family. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Everyone had their ups and downs,” Cass started.

“And I get that,” Mat said, holding his head in his hands and looking down at her coffee cup. The same white-and-blue one he had gotten her two months earlier. “But it’s hard. It’s hard when I’m feeling like the fans aren’t getting what they deserve when they come to games, and like I’m not worth what they’re paying me right now. I know you want to, but you don’t get it.”

Cass looked away, turning her eyes to the street. The sidewalk was dusted in white, turning to slush every time someone walked past. It was the first snow of the year. “Then help me to.”

He breathed out, finally relaxing a little. “It’s not that easy.”

“I want to help you,” Cass said, leaning over the table and clasping his hands in hers. “But you can’t keep freezing me out like this, chou. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.”

Mat closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t want this to become your thing too. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I know right now kind of sucks for me but that’s just how it is sometimes, you know? It’s just how it is and I have to get over it. I have to get over myself.”

“Mat, your well-being and mental health isn’t something you can just ‘get over.’ Or even something you should. I’m not a professional, and if you need one that’s something we can find,” Mat wrinkled his face, and Cass was pointedly reminded how often men’s mental health was ignored, “but I’m here for you to talk to. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

He ran his thumb over her hand. “But you didn’t sign up for this.”

Cas shook her head. “Mathew Barzal. This is exactly what I signed up for. I’m pretty smart,” he cracked a smile, “and I knew what I was getting myself into. Dating someone with such an unconventional job and schedule can be stressful, and frustrating, and confusing for everyone involved. But I chose it, Mat. I chose you.”

Dec. 21 (mon)

For once, Cass wasn’t headed straight home after work, or headed to a game, or — God forbid — back to the library to study. Her last final had been that morning, and she was free for three blessed weeks until the New Year. Which meant that she didn’t have to worry about turning in another essay or memorizing another case, which meant that she was more than free to go to the team Christmas party with Mat later that night. He had somehow been coerced into hosting, and Cass had promised to get to his apartment early to help set up. He was mostly done by the time she got there, so “setting up” turned out to mean setting up the bar and putting out snacks, Cass mixing up an enormous pitcher of her favorite sangria, a signature standby from her sorority’s Wine Wednesdays.

Mat had even put up a proper Christmas tree, and Cass smiled at the piney scent as she headed down the hallway, bag in hand. “Cool if I change in your room?” She shouted down the hall at Mat, who was currently engrossed in pouring a bowl full of chocolate-covered pretzels. “Yeah, go for it,” he called back. Cass didn’t have a lot of excuses to dress up, but liked taking advantage when the occasion called for it. Her dress was short, red satin with a slit on one side and silver embellishment on the other. She used his bathroom to touch up her makeup, swiping her burgundy lipstick on and double-checking her brows. Cass shoved her work clothes back into her backpack, tossing it onto the plush armchair in the corner of his room.

She walked down the hallway, which was pretty much bare save for a few pictures of his friends from home and one with his family on the day he was drafted. She was kind of surprised that Mat owned a single picture frame. Cass sat on the couch in his living room, looking at the Christmas tree. There were one or two Islanders ornaments, a paper Santa that she assumed had been a kindergarten art project, a photo of his family around the fireplace that looked like it had been taken a year or two earlier. Mat wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind. “Whatcha looking at, babe?”

She smiled. “Your ornaments. They’re really pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

The door rang, Mat kissing her quickly before walking across the room to open it. A group of the younger players piled in, mostly rookies and call-ups from Bridgeport. One of them had brought along a keg of beer, and Cass had to fight back a laugh while showing him to the kitchen and setting it on the counter. He was just out of college, she’d stake her life on it. By the time she’d secured the keg and started getting people set up with drinks, the living room had started to fill up. “What can I get you?” She asked Paige, who had left Tito with the boys by the tree and made her way over to Cass.

“What are my chances of getting a Moscow mule?” Paige asked. “I don’t want to be a difficult guest, but,”

“Very good,” Cass said, turning around and grabbing the vodka and ginger ale. “We don’t have the proper mugs though, so don’t be complaining.” One shot of vodka. Half a can of ginger ale. Squeeze a lime. She had bartended for a little over a year when she first moved to New York, and it was still one of her favorite things to do for friends. Mixing herself a whiskey sour, Cass wandered back over to Mat and Tito.

---

It was well past eleven and the party was nowhere near stopping. While everyone was conscious of the noise level — for the most part, she had seen a few of the guys being reminded to use their inside voices — the conversations were still going and the drinks were still flowing. Cass had passed the tipsy point somewhere around 10:30, though she was nowhere near as hammered as some of the team. Or their dates, for that matter. She was cuddled up against Mat on the couch, heels long having since been abandoned and nursing what she was pretty sure was a vodka sprite with way too much vodka and way too little sprite. Whatever, Cass thought ruefully as she tipped the last of it back. It gets the job done.

Mat was a touchy drunk, Cass had learned, and one hand seemed to have taken up permanent residence at her waist while he sipped a beer with the other. “What do you think Christmas will be like for you?” Cass asked softly, tilting up her head to look at him. “Since you won’t be with your family.” Mat knew it was a possibility, but he was still pretty upset when he looked at the schedule and realized that his family wasn’t going to be able to fly out to spend the holidays with him, and he didn’t have enough time to go back out to Vancouver.

Her parents had extended the invitation for Mat to spend Christmas with them when she had been back up for Thanksgiving; he couldn’t make Christmas Day, but was able to carve out two days to visit. He smiled at her, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “You’re cute when you’re worried, y’know that?” Cass scrunched up her nose. “It’s not like I’m going to be alone. I’m doing Christmas with Beau, since Paige’ll be out of town too, and some of the guys usually plan a nice dinner thing for anyone who’s not with family.”

“That sounds nice,” Cass noted, still feeling a pang of guilt.

“Hey,” Mat said, noticing her distraction. He sat up, turning her face to look towards him. “I’ll be fine. I’m a grown-ass man.”

Cass cocked an eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

Mat giggled. “Okay, okay, fine. Point taken. But yeah, it would be nice to have my family, but I kind of do, y’know?” He said, nodding around to the guys. Cass could have sworn that in that moment, her heart melted. “And I want you to spend time with yours. I’d be kind of a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t want you to.” Mat leaned in, and his lips brushed against hers so that they were almost touching but not quite, hesitantly. Cass pressed against him, her fingers finding purchase in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. She loved that he was letting his hair grow out. He tasted like whiskey and tequila and some cheap beer that she was pretty sure was Natty Light, but she couldn’t have cared less, just like she ignored the not-so-subtle wolf-whistles from the teammates.

Everyone started clearing out around midnight, a few staying to help stuff cans and bottles into trash bags that were left unceremoniously in the kitchen to be dealt with the next morning. Cass yawned, rubbing her eyes. She had sobered up some, but was still well past the legal limit. “Whatcha doing?” Mat asked, seeing her about to order an Uber.

“Calling a ride?” Cass questioned.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Mat asked haltingly. “If you want.” Cass had obviously been over to his place before, multiple times, but hadn’t stayed the night yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, because she did, but it was something that was a big step for her. That meant a lot to her. But it was late, and she was sleepy, and Mat did make a really good pillow. “Okay,” she conceded.

Mat smiled, taking her hand and leading her back to his bedroom. He rummaged through his dresser, grabbing an old Thunderbirds t-shirt and athletic shorts and handing them to her as she walked into his ensuite. “I don’t have stuff to get your makeup off, but there is soap?” He offered.

Cass laughed. “I brought some wipes, but thank you. That’s really sweet.” She changed and took her makeup off, finding a spare toothbrush in one of the drawers and brushing her teeth. She popped out after a few minutes. Mat was already changed, dressed in pyjama pants and a comfy-looking heathered grey top. “The red toothbrush is mine now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, cracking a smile. A few minutes later, she had claimed the left side of the bed and he had come back from the bathroom. They were lazily kissing, Mat’s hand just barely brushing the skin on her waist from where the shirt had ridden up. Cass was still tipsy and she knew Mat wouldn’t try anything, not like this, but God, it was nice just to feel close to him. After a few minutes he pulled back, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the loose messy bun she had thrown together. “What’s running through your head, babe?” He murmured.

Cass looked down, biting her lip. She was usually good with emotions, good with communication, but something about Mat made her heart skip a beat and brain go into overdrive all at once, and somehow she was convinced that it was the best feeling in the world. “I’m just really happy right now,” she breathed. “It’s Christmas, with our friends, and you...It’s everything I could want.”

Mat gave the softest smile. “You, with me, right now? That’s all I could want, Cass.”

Dec 22. (wed)

Cass zipped her suitcase shut, double-checking that she had everything she’d need for her two weeks in Connecticut. It wasn’t a big deal if she forgot something, there was probably some stuff left in her old dresser, and her little sister Eliana was about the same size. Mat had just texted that he was almost there. Cass grabbed her backpack and suitcase, stopping for a moment to pop out the final few chocolates on the Advent calendar her mom had sent down. She closed her bedroom door, wishing a harried goodbye to Ryanne and Stella, and ambled down the stairs as fast as her bags would allow her. She didn’t want Mat to have to double-park and risk getting a ticket.

True to his word, Mat was just pulling up when she came out of the building, waving one hand and double-checking the street was clear before flipping his hazards on and hopping out to help her put her bags in the trunk. Kissing him on the cheek in thanks, Cass slid into the passenger’s side, giving Mat a very pointed look when she saw that the first song on his playlist was Justin Bieber. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbled, blushing.

“Who said I’m making fun of you?” Cass said lightly, trying and failing to hide her smile.

They had decided that Mat would make the drive, since he was only staying two nights they had figured it would make more sense. The directions had been plugged into the Bluetooth system, and they had just made it out of the city when Mat looked over at the passenger’s seat, furrowing his brow when he saw Cass’s expression. Something was bothering her. “What’s up, babe?”

She bit her lip. “Nothing.”

“C’mon, we both decided we weren’t going to do this anymore. You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I think you want to talk.”

Cass looked down at her lap. “I got a letter from the company that’s handling my student loans.”

“I thought you didn’t have any debt?” Mat asked quizzically.

She let out a single, humorless laugh. “That was for undergrad, and that was only because I was really, really lucky. I got some money from the school and I worked some, but that only covered about half of my costs? A little less?”

“Which leaves you with how much?”

“A hundred and ten thousand dollars, give or take. They were sending me the payment schedule, I have to start paying it back late next year.”

Mat breathed out. He knew that Cass didn’t come from money, but being from Canada and not having gone to college himself, he wasn’t really aware of just how debilitating student debt could get. “Do your parents know?” He asked gently.

Cass picked at a loose thread on her scarf. “Yeah. They helped as much as they could, but there’s three of us and they’re not made of money. “I, uh,” she paused briefly, “I told you I went to private school, yeah?” Mat nodded. “Catholic school doesn’t come cheap, so I was actually on work-study at my high school, which helped a lot. But I hated it.”

“Your school?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “No, I loved my school. It was great. I just hated feeling like a charity case. My school’s in a pretty well-off neighborhood, so most of the families there had money, and some were like proper ‘old money’ New Englanders. I had some great friends and nobody ever really outwardly was an ass about it if they knew, but still…” She trailed off.

“You felt like you never quite fit in.” Mat finished.

She nodded. “It was hard and it sucked sometimes, but that’s just how it is, I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Two hours later, Mat pulled into Manchester, following Cass’s directions down the winding roads and corners of her hometown. “Do you think they’ll like me?” He asked nervously, eyes flitting between Cass and the road in front of him.

Her brow furrowed. “Who? My family?” Mat nodded. “My family’s going to love you. You’re kind and you treat me with respect. That’s all they’ve ever wanted for me. And my brother already worships the ground you walk on, practically,” she added with a smile.

“He’s a junior, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she responded. Cass’s younger brother Noah was a junior in high school, and one of the best players on his club hockey team. Hockey didn’t run cheap and he had been lifeguarding the past few summers to pay for it, but it was all starting to pay off and he was having some interest shown by college scouts.

Mat pulled up beside the curb in front of her house, killing the engine and shoving the keys back into his pocket. Cass popped the trunk and took her backpack, while Mat got his duffel and her suitcase. She reached for his hand as they walked up the driveway, giving it a reassuring squeeze as she rang the doorbell.

“Cass!” Eliana squealed, hugging as much of her sister as she could manage around the bags. “Put your bags by the door, Dad’s grilling out back and I think Mom’s making your bed.” Mat had had an afternoon game and the two had left not long after, so it was dinnertime and Cass was ravenous. “Grilling in December?” She questioned.

Eliana shrugged, closing the door behind them. “You know Patrick, you go be the one to tell the man he can’t make burgers in the winter.” She turned to Mat, also greeting him with a hug. “You must be Mat, Cass talks about you a lot.”

Cass swatted her. “El!”

Mat chuckled. “Yeah. Mat Barzal, nice to meet you. Good things, I hope?”

“Only the best,” Eliana said, leading them through to the back porch, where her dad was grilling on the patio while Noah was doing sprints up and down the lawn. He almost fell when he spotted Cass and Mat, causing Mat to have to hide a laugh behind his hand. Her dad turned around, setting the spatula down when he saw them. Mat swallowed, sticking out his hand for a shake. “Mat Barzal, sir.”

“Call me Patrick. Good to meet you Mat, go get settled and we should have dinner ready in a few, okay?” Mat nodded. “Noah, pick your jaw up off the floor and go help them with their things, okay?” Noah ducked his head, brushing the dirt off his shorts before jogging over to where Mat and his sisters were on the porch.

“Do I hear my Cassidy?” Cass could hear her mom inside, walking down the hallway with Noah and Mat before she ran into her by her old bedroom. “It’s me, Mom!” Cass said excitedly, hugging her mom. Mat initially went for another handshake, but she shooed it away, embracing him. “We’re huggers in this family,” she said by way of explanation, pulling away after a moment. “Ysabel Cabrera, so nice to finally meet you, Mat.”

Mat smiled. “It’s great to finally meet you too.”

Ysabel pointed down the hall. “Noah’s got bunk beds, so you’ll be with him in there, it’s the last door on the left. Cass, I trust you still can find your room.”

“Yes, mamá,” Cass said, rolling her eyes. “See you in a few, chou.” He kissed her on the cheek, under the watchful eye of her mom, and followed Noah down the hall.

---

Two hour later, Mat and Cass were cuddled together on the living room couch, his arm slung around her as they half-watched reruns of Parks & Rec. “D’you just want to do presents now?” He asked, looking down at her. “Because I know we’ve got plans tomorrow, and I don’t see how it really matters if we’re not going to be together Christmas Day.”

Cass looked up. “Uh, sure, if you want?”

“Meet you back in a minute,” Mat said, hopping off of the couch and disappearing down the hall. Cass rolled her eyes, walking into her room, grabbing the envelope, and returning to the living room. Mat got up when she entered, proudly handing her a surprisingly well-wrapped present.

“You look very pleased with your work,” Cass noted, laughing.

“I watched a Youtube tutorial,” Mat admitted, “but did you know that there’s so much that goes into folding neat corners? It’s practically an art!”

“I’ll take you word for it,” Cass said, handing him his envelope. “Open yours first.”

Mat sat back down, running his thumb through the flap and pulling out a coupon. He looked at it quizzically for a minute. “Beer delivery?”

“Craft beer delivery,” Cass corrected pointedly. “Because I don’t want you to have to resort to Natty Light ever again. I saw your fridge, it’s actually the worst. You need taste, babe.” Mat snorted. “And they deliver to Canada, so you don’t have to worry about missing out on the offseason.”

“I love it, pretty girl,” Mat said, kissing her. “Now open yours.” Cass carefully popped the corners open, unfolding the wrapping paper. My Beloved World - Sonia Sotomayor. “You said once that you really admire her, and I didn’t see it on your bookshelf, so I thought you’d like it.”

“I do, I love it. I love that you remembered even more,” Cass added.

But Mat wasn’t done. “Open it,” he said expectantly.

Confused though she was, Cass opened the cover of the book. “It’s...signed? She said softly, reverently tracing her fingers over the inscription.

“Yeah.” Mat went on, explaining, “I found it in this little bookstore in Brooklyn, and knew I had to get it for you. Knew what it would mean to you.”

“It’s incredible. You’re incredible. I can’t believe you’d do something like that for me.”

Their foreheads touched. “Why wouldn’t I?” Mat whispered. “It’s for you.”

And in that moment, there was nothing anyone could do to take away how happy that made her feel. How happy he made her feel.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #nhl imagine #mat barzal imagine #hockey smut #mat barzal #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl imagines #nhl fluff #hockey imagines #hockey fluff #islanders imagines #islanders writing #new york islanders #islanders

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neoatiny · 5 years ago

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정 윤호 | Ateez Yunho (pirate!au) | Ateez Headcannon

“My compass is your whispering. Even if you go back a long time, please stay by my side.” -Ateez, Mist

The Sailing Master of the Horizon

The dude is LouD

I mean LouD as in you-can-never-not-hear-this-guy-talking kind of LouD

You can always hear him happily chatting with however is near him

He spends most of his time in the captain’s quarters helping Hongjoong build maps

When he does leave the quarters, everyone is happy to see him

He’s always cracking jokes

Would have been such a chaotic duo with Wooyoung if he just s t o p p e d stealing his things

He can’t find his parchment? Probably hidden in between the kitchen plates

He can’t find his telescope? Probably dangling over the bulwarks by a piece of rope tied to the railing

And when he can’t find his compass that’s he’s said countless of times before is irreplaceable? Probably wedged in between some broken planks on the deck

Isn’t really one to hold a grudge so Wooyoung never listens and continues to steal his things

Is the most wonderful artist the captain’s ever met

The whole crew has ever met let’s be honest

He can draw maps, buildings, caricatures

You name it, he can draw it

Takes requests when he’s off-duty and Mingi holds his drawing close to his heart (he won’t admit it no matter how many times Yunho teases him about it)

San and him get along well because “he actually understands the importance in learning the names of various plants”

Yunho is shut-lipped when he gets injured because he feels it’ll be a problem to others

When he got his first injury on the Horizon, it took weeks for his limp to heal and Seonghwa was the one to find him hiding in the storage room, messily rewrapping bandages he stole from the medbay around his leg

It was the first and last time he saw Yunho cry

Captain told everyone to keep an eye on him discreetly, but Yunho knows

He’s a smart guy, after all

Restlessly proves that he’s useful to the crew because he’s scared of being left behind

“Captain, if we continue to head in this direction, we’ll bump into an Honor Guard ship in four hours or so”

“Yes, Yunho. I know.”

“…Oh” :(

Was a very cheerful kid back in his hometown, Caligo

Loved to help the townspeople (carry milk bottles, carry out flyers, find missing cats, etc)

Everybody loved him, but it was also because his father was part of the town council so they needed to respect his son

Didn’t have a lot of friends even though he played a lot with the street kids

They always asked him for money saying that he “Had loads more at home, so why not give some of it to us?”

Yunho thought he was doing a good deed at the time, always following others to make them happy

Had loved exploration since he could remember

His father was an exploration enthusist himself so Yunho always played with his father’s telescopes and cartography kit

Made a really descriptive map of the town when he was 9, marking where everyone lived and worked

Drew them himself and was praised by his father for it, gifting him his silver compass that he used to travel with when he was younger

His mother was also proud, but slightly disturbed on his amount of research into the town

During the Nox War, general soldier recruitment happened and most of the men in town got drafted to fight

During those times, his father became more snappy and more unloving towards him

Whenever that happened, his mother would take him to the garden to comfort him

“Do you want to play a game, Yunho?”

immediately would stop crying and they’d make little maps of make-believe islands with his mini cartography kit

Yunho always won, of course

They’d post them on the garden’s walls and they would take care of the flowers

Yunho pretty much knows every single type of flower and their meaning

When he was 11 years old, his father went POOF and disappeared for over a month without any word

His father got replaced by someone else on the town counsel and that man did e v e r y t h i n g to badmouth his father

“He left without a word! Do you want someone who leaves the town while they’re in need?”

When his father eventually came back, he constantly ignored him, muttering about sea thieves

Yunho would later come to learn in one of his father’s dusty books that it was another term for pirates

His parents would fight in his father’s study and he’d cry while listening in through the door

“You can’t just come back without saying anything, Kyungho! Our neighbours are badmouthing us! Our son believes you don’t even love him anymore!”

“He isn’t important! He isn’t important right now, Yunha! The Honor Guard, Yunha. Somebody lied and said that we helped a band of pirates. They’re going to come for us and you want to worry about people judging you? You want to worry about him?”

He isn’t important. Those words would be a constant reminder as he grew up

He felt alone and it didn’t help that he no one in the town would talk to him anymore because of the new council member

Yunho has this scar on his right hand after someone threw literal glAss at him

“You and your family aren’t welcome! Your father abandoned us!”

The house seemed to grow emptier and emptier as days went by

One late night, his mother had brought him to the garden after he heard loud noises from downstairs

“Mo-Mother? What’s happening? Where’s father?”

“Let’s play a game, Yunho.”

And being the obedient son that he was he agreed

“I want you to stand very still, okay? Don’t move because…because then you won’t be able to see the surprise your father and I planned for you.”

He should have known something was up when he saw her mother not dressed in her nightgown

She disappeared and all that kept him company were the chirping crickets

"The stars looks so nice tonight.”

Some time passed and she still hasn’t come back

And she never did

His mother had abandoned him in the garden and tried to run away and officials found her in the outskirts of town by a dingy boat

On the same night, his father and mother were hanged in the gallows for aiding in piracy (false charges but nobody knew that)

He was taken away the next day, never seeing the garden ever again

Stayed in the town orphanage which obviously did not have enough space to accommodate all the kids inside

Spent sleepless nights wondering why she did what she did

maybe she did it since she knew he wouldn’t get hanged and maybe she did it for his safety and it wouldn’t have been the best for him, but it messed with him for y e a r s

Especially since the older boys in the orphanage would not let him forget

“If you were important, your mother wouldn’t have left you to rot in that stupid garden.“

He hated the town and he hated everyone so the moment he saw a flyer (‘Looking for a Navigator’) for a local merchant ship he was OUTTA THERE

Had only a small bag of money and his father’s compass around his neck before he left

Spent only six months on the ship before they got raided by pirates (you know who)

The captain was absolutely fascinated by the maps

"Who drew these?”

“I did.”

Don’t blame Yunho for speaking up he was just afraid he was going to die if nobody spoke up so give him a break

“You’re an amazing artist.”

That was the day he joined the Horizon, the Pirate King’s ship

“Mingi! How would you feel about not having to navigate anymore?”

He had joined during the early years of the Horizon and it took the captain almost a year to actually learn anything personal about him (oof)

Said yes to the captain’s proposal since he was still a bit (very) terrified of him

Didn’t really believe the pirate life was for him, but he accepted it fully

He’s a very big reason why the Horizon is more merciful with the people they encounter on sea

He’s glad he met the captain and swears he’ll have his back no matter what

He finally had a family and he wasn’t just going to go and leave them like his did

:’)

————

Captain, take care of him, please-

Horizon Masterlist / Taglist

1 out of 8 headcannons finished

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princesssarisa · 4 years ago

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10 facts about Shana and her mother Darika. Plus the full OC interview with each of them :)

Here they are! Shanna, the “Beauty” of my wlw Beauty and the Beast retelling (which still lacks a definitive title, though I intend it to include the word “rose”), and Darika, her mother.

Shanna 10 facts 1. She is 14 years old during the story’s prologue, 17 when the main plot starts, and 19 by the end.

2. My facecast for her is the late Israeli singer Ofra Haza (best known to some of us for providing the voice of Moses’s mother Yocheved in The Prince of Egypt) when she was very young.

3. She’s mixed race. Her mother’s ancestors were white pseudo-Europeans, while her father’s came from a Middle Eastern-inspired culture. Both practiced the same Judaism- and Shamanism-inspired religion, though. She’s her world’s equivalent of a Jewish person who’s half Ashkenazi, half Mizrahi.

4. Her name is partly a variant of the Yiddish “Shaina,” meaning “beautiful,” and partly an abbreviation of the Hebrew “Shoshanna,” meaning “lily” or, more significantly, “rose.” It has nothing to do with the Hebrew “shana,” meaning “year” – they’re just almost-homonyms.

5. Unlike most traditional Beauty and the Beast Beauties, she’s the eldest of three sisters, not the youngest. Her two sisters aren’t wicked, but they are a bit of a handful because they’re so young, and she’s had to be their responsible caretaker. She plays that role well – her little sister Zuri sooner calls for her than for their mother when she needs help – but it’s kept her from fully exploring her own potential, which she finally does get to explore during her time with Liriel, the lady beast.

6. Her personality is very much like Disney’s original animated Belle: bookish, sweet, emotional, full of dreams, yet intelligent and strong willed too. She’s more socially awkward than Belle, though, and unfortunately, she also has the self-doubt of Robin McKinley or Megan Kearney’s Beauties. Unlike Belle, she’s internalized the idea that she’s odd and oversensitive, so she tries to act like a “normal” down-to-earth villager, until the year she spends with Liriel makes her realize her worth just as she is.

7. She’s an aspiring author and poet. At age 13, before her family fell into poverty, she wrote a play based on the popular story of the heroine Lady Yasfira, portraying her as more flawed and dynamic than in most retellings, giving more sympathy than usual to the “evil” queen who opposed her, and portraying them as having once been friends. (Think either The Prince of Egypt or Wicked, or both.) The play was never performed at the time, but years later, with Liriel’s encouragement, she fine-tunes it, and then they perform it together for Liriel’s animal servants – this plays an important role in their growing feelings for each other.

8. She rarely lets herself get angry, but when she does, she can verbally annihilate you.

9. She realized she was bisexual at age 11 when, after her first crush on a boy at her school ended, she developed a new crush on a girl. She probably realized this more quickly than most real-world bi girls do, because the setting, Zalina Island, has no homophobia. She never acted on her crushes, but only out of shyness, not because she saw anything wrong with liking girls.

10. Despite her gentle personality, she’s not especially femme: she’s more soft butch, or maybe futch. She dislikes dresses (fortunately, Zalina Island has no taboo against women in pants) and generally wears just one or two feminine articles, like a shawl or earrings, with otherwise boyish clothing.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story)

What did you want to be, when you were a kid? There were so many things I wanted to be at different times. A queen, a princess, a duchess, a prophet, a traveling bard, an actress, a shepherdess, a farmer, a lady knight, a prime minister, a priestess, an acrobat, a cook, a kitchen maid, a dressmaker like my mother, a merchant like my father, a doctor, a midwife, a goldsmith, a fairy… and eventually, I realized that the one way to be all those things was to be a writer.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer? As soon as I was old enough to realize that stories didn’t come out of thin air, but where written by people. I wanted to do it as soon as I knew I could.

Who inspires you? My mother, my father, and a wide array of fictional heroes and heroines.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I’d love to live in a castle. I try not to care where I live as long as my family is with me, but my dreams of living in some splendid beautiful place never seem to die. I wouldn’t want it unless my family was there too, though.

Which item would you never give away? My journal, where I write down my secret thoughts, poems and stories.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Until recently, I might have cited the time I forgot to write an important history essay for school because I got lost in writing my play Yasfira and Anefri. Or else the time I lost my temper with my three-year-old sister Zuri and hurt her feelings so badly that she ran away and was missing for over an hour. But now, there’s no doubt that my worst mistake was asking Mama to bring me back a unique flower if she could find one on her trip to the city. Who would have thought a flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? Yes, the moment when I saw Lady Liriel for the first time, after I followed Mama back to her lair – half wolf, half dragon, and entirely terrifying – and even more so, when she sniffed the air and I knew she smelled me hiding there.

There’s people who say you’re strange. Do you have any comment on this? I’m afraid it’s true. So often my imagination feels more real than the real world, my mind flies off to places that no one else believes exist, my emotions swell and crash like tidal waves no matter how much I try to swallow them and put logic first, I’ve always asked too many questions, and I feel less alone with only my books, paper and pen than I do in crowds of people.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Well, not many people know how strange I am anymore. I’ve learned to copy Mama and pretend to be as sensible and down-to-earth as she and our neighbors are, instead of spewing my feelings and dreams the way I used to. If the villagers knew about my romantic fantasies or the stories and poems I write in my head, they would laugh or scold even more than the people in the city did when I was small.

What would make a perfect day for you? A few hours spent reading, a few spent writing, and maybe a trip to the theatre in the evening, with people who understand me and let me feel free to be myself.

Darika 10 Facts 1. She takes on the father’s traditional role in the Beauty and the Beast story. Her husband was a merchant, but he died in the same shipwreck that destroyed his merchandise and left the family impoverished. But a few years later, she learns that one of his ships survived after all, has to travel to reclaim its cargo, but gets lost in a forest… and we all know the rest. Recent BatB retellings have put a lot of effort into answering the question “What happened to Beauty/Belle’s mother?” in interesting and poignant ways. To be different, I thought “Why not make her mother the living parent?”

2. My facecast for her is the New York City Criminal Court judge Rachel “Ruchie” Freier. Not that I know much about Judge Freier, but her face look right for the character.

3. At the beginning of the story, she’s 35 years old. By the end, she’s 40.

4. She was born in a small, poor village at the base of the White Pine Mountains. Her parents died when she was a baby, so she was raised by her grandfather and her older sister, who have since died too.

5. She worked as a seamstress in the village until she met and fell in love with a wealthy young traveling merchant from an elite port city. Despite the disapproval of his social circle, they married. After his death, she took their daughters back to her home village to start a new life.

6. Her impoverished upbringing and family tragedies have toughened her. She takes a very practical, hardworking, no-nonsense approach to life, tries to teach her daughters to do the same, and is calm and resolute in the face of hardship, focusing on “What are we going to do about it?” She sometimes loses patience with her daughter Shanna’s dreaminess and sensitivity, which makes Shanna, who adores and idolizes her, feel inadequate and weak.

7. Inside, though, she feels just as deeply and intensely as Shanna does. Her love for her family is limitless and she’s actually very dependent on Shanna, who fills the role of the family’s nurturing caregiver more than Darika’s temperament lets her do.

8. One thing she and Shanna have in common, which Shanna learned from her, is strong integrity and deep compassion for others. For her, the best part of being rich was all the good she could do for the poor, while the hardest part of becoming poor again was having so little to give to those even poorer.

9. Her sewing is more than just her job – it’s an art. She embroiders the clothes and quilts she makes with all kinds of colors and unique designs. The vibrant images she creates are an outlet for the emotions she doesn’t express.

10. Her personality is inspired by assorted beloved literary heroines, both classic (Jane Eyre, Elinor Dashwood) and modern (Tamora Pierce’s lady knight Keladry of Mindalen). For all their differences, and though they’re much younger than Darika, all these heroines are quiet, practical, dignified, staunch in their integrity, deeply caring and passionate on the inside, and yet with masks of stoic self-control that they only drop when intensely provoked. I like those heroines and admire them, yet sometimes their popular role model status annoys me, because it’s hard for a highly sensitive, naturally effusive person to act like them. So Darika pays tribute to them, but the story will also emphasize that her daughters don’t need to be like her.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story) What did you want to be, when you were a kid? A forest sprite or a good witch. I had a wild imagination in those days, before the real world tamed it.

When did you know you wanted to be a seamstress? When I first learned that the flowers and birds on my childhood quilt hadn’t sprouted there by themselves, but were embroidered by my mother, and that the storytelling tapestries that hung on the village temple walls were sewn by other villagers in the same way. I wanted to create beauty like they had, and to tell stories through pictures, while at the same time creating useful things for others: clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, etc. I think I willed my own talent for sewing into being to do just that.

Who inspires you? My older sister Shanna; the namesake of my daughter. We lost our mother very young, so she took on the role of mother for me, and every day her love and strength have inspired me as I’ve raised my own children.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I would live in a clean, elegant, comfortable house with my daughters, a servant or two, and my husband, if only I could bring him back.

Which item would you never give away? My wedding ring.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Three of them, one directly after the other. First, when I was lost in the Great Forest during a storm, I took shelter in what I thought was an ordinary cave. Then, when I found that the inside looked like a castle, I should have turned and left; even then I knew that such an enchanted place would be dangerous. But I was cold, wet, and afraid I would die if I went back out into the storm, so I stayed. Last but not least, when I discovered the greenhouse garden in that castle-cave, I crept in and picked a rose as a gift for my daughter Shanna. Who would have dreamed a single flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? I feared for my life when I was lost in the storm, but even more so when I came face to face with Lady Liriel. I’ll never forget the sight of her matted fur and vampire-bat fangs as she glared down at me.

There’s people who say you’re cold and stony. Do you have any comment on this? They don’t really know me.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Very few people fully know me, not even my daughters. I play the role of the calm, practical peasant woman, but it’s only skin-deep. Shanna thinks all her wild passions and romantic dreams came from her father, but really she inherited them from me too. My grandfather knew the secret me, and so did my sister, and my husband. But they’re all gone, and as I’ve buried each of them, I’ve buried those aspects of myself more deeply.

What would make a perfect day for you? A quiet day of embroidery by the fire at home, with my daughters all near me and all happy.

#my writing #oc ask #10 facts #oc interview #shanna #darika #my ocs #cinefantastiquemitho

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scribbles97 · 5 years ago

Text

Left Behind - Chapter 4

This thing just keeps going and keeps going some more! I blame all your wonderful comments and feedback thank you so very much to everyone!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

John didn’t often visit the den, it was more of a space for the younger of the five of them to sit and play games or watch films away from the main hub of the lounge. Scott and Virgil could be found in there often enough, normally distracting the youngest two when the lounge became a communications hub for International Rescue.

It wasn’t any surprise that he found Scott there.

If it had have been earlier in the day, the eldest would have probably set off on a run around the island. The ground was tretarous though and Scott knew there was good reason for a ban on night time runs.

It was equal parts fortunate and unfortunate that Virgil was there to be on the receiving end of big brother’s rant.

He took the beanbag between the pair, lounging back as Scott’s rant trailed off.

“She’s grieving too Scott,” Virgil murmured softly, “Plus she’s having to keep everything else going. I don’t imagine she meant to have a dig at you specifically.”

Scott shook his head, “She doesn’t want any of us on the teams, Virgil. Not if she can find a way to stop us and that’s exactly what she’s looking to do with me.”

“Oh would you listen to yourself.” John rolled his eyes, looking to Scott, “It’s not that she doesn’t want us to be part of this.”

Scott’s glare turned on him, but it didn’t scare John, it hadn’t for a long time.

“Then what, John? What else could make her so damn determined to screw me over?”

Virgil was watching him too, brown eyes wary.

“You’re the only one of us already in service with IR.” He shrugged, Scott had no reason to get angry with the facts at least, “We’ve lost Dad because of him having a role within IR.”

The look Scott was giving him was still hard. It hurt John to think how much like their father Scott looked when he set his face like that. Yet there was something about that face that he could see wasn’t right. The set of his eyes wasn’t one of anger, there wasn’t that spark of passion there that Scott always had when something had made him angry.

“So?”

Virgil huffed, “Come on Scott, you’re not thick.”

John shook his head, “You know Scott. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“Screw that.” Scott spat, looking away from John to the balcony that looked out over the island’s runway. His voice softened as his shoulders fell slightly, the anger having ebbed slightly in just that moment,

“Dad built those ships for us. He always said it. Five original ships. Five of us.”

None of them looked around at the sound of rushed footsteps across the wooden floor. John winced as Alan announced his and Gordon’s arrival,

“I wanna fly Thunderbird three!”

Scott’s glare focussed on the youngest, “Go away Alan. You weren’t invited to this talk.”

Virgil reached out to their little brother, frowning at Scott, “Hold up there. He’s as much a part of all this as the rest of us.”

Gordon threw himself to the floor at John’s feet, folding his arms as he looked between his three older brothers.

Please don’t ask. John thought to himself, the last thing he wanted was Scott all riled up again.

“He’s just a kid!” Scott exclaimed, flinging an arm towards Alan.

“I am not!” Alan shouted back, “I told Mommy, I’m not a kid!”

“Mom thinks we’re all kids Alan!” Scott snapped, sitting straighter in the bean bag, towering over the youngest, “Now Dad’s gone she’s not going to let any of us do anything because she thinks something's going to happen to us like it did him.”

“I don’t care!” Alan pouted, shouting back just as loud as his big brother, “I don’t want anyone to leave ever again! I don’t want anyone else to die!”

It was his final word that shocked them all into stunned silence. All four of them looking at the one stood in the centre, cheeks red and suddenly tear stained.

Scott always did have a soft spot for comforting upset siblings.

John caught Gordon’s shoulder, stopping him from going to the youngest before Scott could. It earned him a glare from the swimmer, but as Scott pushed himself up from the beanbag, John knew he was right to make the call.

“Hey Allie,” Scott cooed as he wrapped the youngest up in his arms, “It’s okay kid. Nobody else is going away.”

Alan pushed away from him, not completely but just enough to wipe at his eyes with his arm.

“You don’ know that Scotty,” He sniffed, “Nobody knew Daddy was gonna die.”

John’s chest hurt as he watched the pair, wishing he could say something but knowing he had to keep quiet.

“What if you go?” Alan continued, “Or what if Mommy goes? ‘M scared that she might not come back.”

He saw the moment, the second that the hard look that had been on Scott’s face all afternoon fell as he pulled Alan back close to him. Yet it wasn’t what he had been waiting for.

Scott had rested his head against Alan’s, John saw the elder brother swallow hard as he screwed his eyes shut.

“I’m scared too Allie.”

Releasing his hold of Gordon’s shoulder, John gave a slight nod, “None of us know what happens next.”

“No,” Scott agreed softly looking up to him, “We don’t.”

John would take the look his big brother was giving him as an apology. It was likely about all that he would get in terms of how Scott should have listened to him, not that he would complain. It seemed that he had taken a step forward at least by admitting that he was having the same feelings as the rest of them.

“But we can’t let that fear dictate our lives,” Virgil added, wriggling off of his beanbag to wrap an arm around Alan’s shoulders.

Scott nodded in agreement, “V’s right, we have to trust Mom, and each other, that we will come home. Otherwise we’ll be so busy worrying, we won’t be able to focus on the stuff that really matters.”

“You’re all going to make me sick with this sentiment,” Gordon uttered, shifting to stand.

John smirked as Virgil grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into his side, “Says the one about to leave us for olympic training.”

“Gerroff!” Gordon protested, struggling against Virgil’s arm, “Alan, help!”

The youngest giggled as he watched the pair, shaking his head, “You’re on your own there, Gordy.”

As Gordon wriggled out of Virgil’s grasp and launched at Alan, John caught Scott’s eye. A raised eyebrow and a lift of his chin was enough to ask the silent question he needed an answer to.

Just as discreetly, Scott nodded in return, his smile fading briefly along with the laughter that had been in his eyes.

Maybe they weren’t okay in that moment, but given time, John knew they would be.

***

She wanted wine, but being on duty meant she had to settle with juice.

Juice didn’t get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth.

Leaning forward she set the glass down on the pile of papers she didn’t particularly care about at that moment. John had walked out and left her drowning in her own thoughts.

“Did I give up too soon?”

Val rolled her eyes from where she had been leaning against the wall, waiting for Lucy to answer whatever had been asked when she and Lee had arrived in the office. Folding her arms she shifted to stand straighter, “You couldn’t warrant the resources any longer. Not when there are other people needing our help.”

Warranted resources or not, what use was International Rescue if they couldn’t save one of their own?

“Luce,” Lee drawled, crossing one leg over the other in the armchair in the far corner of the room, “Stop it. You did what you deemed necessary and them boys need to accept that.”

Except her boys weren’t kids any more. Three of them were legally adults, old enough to make their own decisions and lead their own lives.

If those decisions lead them to IR, who was she to stop them?

Their mother.

A widow.

The new CEO of the organisation.

“Those boys,” Val started, glaring at Lee, her tone of voice giving away that she didn’t approve entirely of his statement, “have the stubbornness of both you and Jeff in them, they were never going to want to give up on him easily.”

She looked to Lucy, arms folded as she shrugged, “If Scott and John have something they think they can trial, it might be worth looking into.”

Val wasn’t wrong.

Lucy’s gut had been to look into the program John had described.

Fear had got her hung up on how the redhead had known about the specs of the space station.

“It scares me that they want to go into this,” She whispered, eyes distant, not really seeing the room in front of her, “Not only what’s happened,” She swallowed hard, screwing her eyes shut as she tried to block the thoughts from her head, “But, how many injuries have we had this quarter alone? Despite the safety measures.”

She knew that she couldn’t count them on two hands.

“They’ve wanted to be part of this since the start.” Val told her immediately, “We always said there was a ship here for each of them.”

“Ships for them or not,” Lee cut in, “They need to respect those above them if they want to be part of this, family or not.”

“No,” Lucy found herself murmuring, her thoughts escaping as she continued to gaze at nothing, “Val’s right, Lee. If they each went to one of the other teams, maybe we wouldn’t have a problem.”

Taking a breath she refocussed on the room, looking between her brother and her best friend, “But I couldn’t send them away, not now, not after this.”

Lee sighed, shaking his head, “If you do that you’re asking for trouble.”

Yet she couldn’t see another way.

“I have to keep them safe Lee, somewhere I can keep an eye on them and not have to constantly wonder if they’re safe.”

“And what about the program? Everything that we have all gone through along with every other member?”

Lee had never been a stickler for the rules, he had always picked and chosen what he listened to. The problem was, the things he picked to stick by, he stuck by religiously.

“We would still put the boys through it,” Val shrugged, “Scott’s already gone through it all, it wouldn’t be fair if the rest of them didn’t.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a perfect solution, but she supposed it was the best of all the options.

Pursing her lips she leant back in her seat with a sigh, “I just hope they don’t see it as me trying to keep them under my thumb.”

“We would have to do it the right way,” Val murmured in agreement, ignoring Lee’s huff of disapproval, “Find a way to manage them as their own team.”

Lucy knew that wouldn’t be an issue, “They’re good as a team, they always have been. Whenever we went on--” Her voice caught, breaking off the memory of family camping trips.

“Hey,” Val murmured, rounding the desk and spinning Lucy’s chair so she could crouch in front of her, “it’s alright Luce, what is it?”

She shook her head, wiping at the tears that had sprung to her eyes so unexpectedly.

Loneliness that had been twisting her stomach for days had finally knotted itself there, leaving her feeling sick and hurting. Jeff was gone. Their bed was half empty and cold. There was suddenly nobody there at her side, stealing subtle glances, knowing smiles, and the most tender of touches.

It was like half of her had been ripped away and she had been left to bleed out.

“I don’t--” She choked out through a sob, “-I don-- know if I can do this… not without him.”

Val squeezed her leg, waiting until she met her eye to shake her head, “It’s alright Luce, I know it’s hard. None of this is going to be easy, but you’ve got us, and you’ve got the boys. We’re all going to help you through this. Just tell us what you need?”

Throwing herself into work hadn’t helped. Sitting and processing hadn’t either.

She wasn’t sure what else she could do.

Lee’s grunt as he stood from the armchair drew her attention. He looked to her with a slight nod before looking to Val,

“She needs time. We all just need some time.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Lucille Tracy #Lee Taylor #Aunt Val #thunderbirds AU #scribbles writes #Lucy AU #Left Behind

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neshabeingchildish · 5 years ago

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League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 2

Not gonna lie, this chapter is dialogue heavy and a little rushed. Something was going on with my device where I couldn’t quite get the formatting correct and I grew impatient because this is currently the only thing I’m getting feedback on from people other than Lil’ Dynamite and so I wanted to push it out anyway, regardless of errors. I’ll probably go back and change those later. Patience isn’t my ministry. So, whatever. Thanks. Enjoy and sorry. All the platitudes you require, I give. Tagging @kiddangers @just-a-j-reallly and @sunbeameyes (Please lemme know if you wanna be taken off while you do all the stuff you’ve got going on). TW: for alcohol drinking. Idk. Sometimes, that bothers people, even if nobody’s drunk or abusing it.

I Didn’t Say Overthrow the Government

Charlotte gave the twins hugs and kisses before sending them off with their caregiver. It was just something about having access to these children that she couldn’t see them as experiments or projects, even if that was in essence what they were. And the caregiver would definitely have to shapeshift into her at times in order to calm them down, because they were extremely attached to their “mother.”

Charlotte had a work program for bionics and supers that didn’t want to be heroes. She felt like it was unfair to presume or worse, force people into positions where they had to risk themselves for the rest of the world. She knew that her previous boss had that type of childhood and he never grew up past that of a superpowered 8 year old, then he simply continued to repeat that cycle by inducting underage sidekicks and even opening a school to keep that process going.

She knew that Chase might have wanted to be something else had he not been raised and forced to be a protector. He mentioned, in passing, as though it was completely ridiculous, that when he was younger, he wanted to be an astronaut/lawyer. He laughed at his expense, until Charlotte wondered, “Why didn’t you do it?” He stared at her as though the question was ludicrous, so she had to tack on, “I have the credentials to be quite a few things that some might laugh at, and you definitely are more than qualified to be an astronaut lawyer, if that’s what you want.” He gave a little chuckle and moved on with the subject.

That was actually the thing that compelled her towards a new project. She loved new projects, because even though it kept her busy, it opened up her brain for new opportunities to touch the world in an impactful way. She went live on her page the next day and asked supers and bionics, “If you could do ANYTHING ELSE in the world, right now, what would it be? I know that some of you have certain abilities that have made it to where you have focused in on using that gift to help the world, but… What if you had the means and the opportunity to do something else? What would you do?” She read all of the comments and in the same conversation made a decision, “You know what… I feel very moved by a lot of these testimonies. So, this is what I’m going to do…” She created an email address and shared it with the viewers and posted it to her website, “I am going to have everyone who is interested in transitioning from an imposed future that revolves around your ability to a career or even just a hobby that you would love to get into to email me so that I can try to figure out how to make a some of these things happen.”

The number of “I STAN!” comments she received were nothing in comparison to the amount of mail that she got. She had a guy named Bob that she heard went to the academy on Bionic Island who had super strength, but was very gentle and hated having to fight. That was exactly the type of person she was trying to seek out. She had Chase introduce her to this guy… he was sweet, but by God, he was not bright. Sort of reminded her of her best friend, Jasper, in that regard. And it hit her! Jasper! “Hey, Jasp… I’ve got this bionic guy named Bob. He doesn’t want to have to be out on missions. He doesn’t like fighting. He’s very nice, but not that smart and he really doesn’t have a lot of skills beyond mission training and superstrength.”

“We ABSOLUTELY could use someone with super strength around here. I can teach him some maintenance stuff to help out around the lair and the shelter while he finds himself and figures out what he wants to do. Henry’s been enrolling in adult classes at the Vision Institute. Bob could maybe do that?” Jasper said.

“Yes, I’m definitely getting him in touch with an advisor, but I was more like checking to see if you had an empty room to put the guy up in and also if you could maybe mentor him a little along the way, since you have a lot in common?” Charlotte said. Jasper gave her ideas that she was already in the process of setting up, but a support system would be a huge part in these transitions. A lot of people who went to the Vision Institute went for the reason it was created - to figure out exactly what they wanted to do with their life now that their brains were fully formed and they were adults who realized that they had spent all of their lives going in directions that they were pulled in, instead of where their minds led them.

NOW, she had to try to get a more nuanced system in place for those bionics and supers who suffered the same existential crisis, but with the added pressure that they HAD to do whatever direction they were pulled in because, “the world depended on them.” Know who else the world depended on? Caretakers and caregivers, and Charlotte found a perfect shape shifting one who just wanted to be able to look after kids and stuff. She was bionic, so she definitely had been trained and conditioned to fight and protect, but now she was able to play with a couple of adorable babies who turned into adorable puppies AND, she would be able to help them hone their shifting, whenever they were ready for it! Charlotte loved that for her. She loved that Bob might be able to live out his dreams. She loved that she put things in motion to help people be happier and more successful and safe.

The twins were gone to the cottage, which was where they generally stayed, since the castle was fairly new and Charlotte wasn’t even there a lot of the time. With having the guys there, it would be easier anyway.

She came back inside to Max coming from his guest quarters and almost immediately asking, “Do bionics have twin powers?” She froze and folded her arms, thinking. She didn’t know and he didn’t either, so they both rushed to her desk to work on figuring out if they could figure that out.

Chase surfaced later, and found the two of them walking around one in one of Charlotte's famous theory rooms, which was a room with the walls covered in notes and models hanging from the ceiling, and spots where it was clear that experiments were done. It was sort of like if a lab didn’t have everything that was needed to do the work, but had everything that was needed to get to the work. Chase had seen the one that she had in her Dystopia home and the one in the Defender Dome, but this one was bigger, but less used. She and Max went to hover above a model with little figures of people and the scene of what looked like Centium City. “Good afternoon. I made a late start. I think that something is wrong with the guest capsule,” Chase said.

“Do you feel rested and like you’ve had the best sleep ever?” Charlotte wondered.

“As a matter of fact, yes!”

“Then, how could there be something wrong with it?” She asked, rhetorically, not turning her attention away from the model.

Max asked, “Hey, Bionic Boy, do bionic twins have the ability to tap into twin powers?”

Charlotte gasped and said, “I didn’t even THINK about just asking Chase, and we went through that whole thing earlier only to come out as inconclusive.”

“What are twin powers?” Chase asked. Now, Charlotte and Max looked up from the current tangent/theories that they were mulling through to stare at Chase. He smiled awkwardly. “You know what, I’ll just look it up,” he said and touched his finger to the side of his face. “Okay… um.. No, I don’t think so. It would most likely have to be programmed into the coding for their chips. Kind of like my override, but like… something mutual that becomes something else.”

“The mystery kinda dies with that, doesn’t it?” Max asked Charlotte, disappointed. “Well, at any rate… Definitely gonna work on twin powers for the Swagger Twins,’ Max said, into his phone, recording.

Charlotte added in a smol voice, “They is good boys and they deserve!” Max looked at her, absolutely smitten and smiled.

Chase watched with some judgment. He knew that Charlotte frequently switched up for who she needed to be, whenever she needed to be it. The Charlotte that she was with her best friends, the professional in a business meeting, the one that had to deal with Mr. Davenport, and so on. This one was new to him, and if he didn’t know any better… he’d say that this one was into Max. There was obviously some type of inside joke there with the strange voice and the grammatically incorrect phrasing, but the smile that Max gave her made him… irritable. “Are we doing some work today? Anything that I can latch on to?”

“Oh! Yes… We were actually just having a discussion about roleplaying, chess, and boardgames,” Charlotte counted off on her fingers. “We’ve been determining - out of the bionics worlds and the supers worlds, which heroes would be which characters or pieces.”

“We keep on switching and changing between chess and DND, because neither of us is making a list. Making a list might cut into the creative juices and this is all for fun…” Max added on. Chase knew all about chess and Dungeons and Dragons, though that was because Mr. Davenport had casually mentioned it one day and of course, it only took him a few moments to research and memorize it all, but he still hadn’t had the chance to ever play it. Charlotte and Max were talking about this current train of thought, until Chase projected a hologram for them, with a chess board and a diagram that he was creating in progress, split screen with the chess board as he explained, and went through all of the bionic people he knew from the database, where they would be on a chess board and why.

He blinked it away when he was done and offered, “I’m not as hip to DND, but I have some ideas…”

“Um, no… Let’s discuss whatever that set up was!” Max said, practically cheering. “You can do cool shit like that, and you… just don’t? You could be fanboy famous with that gift!” Chase blushed a little and Charlotte smiled at this and at Max’s enthusiasm for that display. “You honestly should take that online.”

“But, it doesn’t fit the Chase Davenport brand that Mr. Davenport approved,” Chase said, coming closer into the room.

“Who is Mr. Davenport?” Max asked, looking between the two of them, then gasped and asked, “Wait, is that what you call your Dad? Uncle? Dude?” Max started laughing and shook his head, “You’re ONLY supposed to do that when you’re a corny dude at a fancy meeting and you say the cliche phrase, “Mr. Davenport is my father.”

“Well… that’s what we call him,” Chase said, annoyed, again. Max backed off and went back to their current mind game…

There was definitely still tension, and Max and Chase were being cordial, but it was clear that they still weren’t sold on one another, so Charlotte decided that maybe after a good day of mental stimulation, a few small experiments, a nice meal and some fine drinks, she could talk to them about the future.

So, after all of that, they retired to the lounge, and she poured wine, lit candles and played easy listening music overlayed on nature sounds. Chase smiled, comfortably and announced, “This is a very satisfying lounge.” Honestly, she was setting it more for him than for Max, so that was good feedback for her.

“I was thinking about something,” she said and picked up her wine glass. “I was thinking about a couple of years ago whenever I started trying to open doors for people who didn’t want to be reduced to their bionics or superpowers. People who just wanted to be people and enjoy their lives whether or not they could fly or breathe underwater… I couldn’t help but to think about it today and the fact that neither of you ever really said anything about wanting to do something else besides be heroes.”

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a drink of wine. “Gross. I’m raiding your liquor cabinet,” he said, put down his wine and telekinetically collected a few bottles of brown liquor and three shot glasses to himself.

“Well, I can’t speak for Max, but there really isn’t another option for me,” Chase smelled the wine and took a sip. It was good. How could Max not enjoy it? It was a very excellent year and a perfect aroma…

“But, there ARE though. Today alone, you proved that you could, if you wanted to, create an online presence for fandoms - which don’t give me that look could be extremely successful! - make exciting and fun games, excel in theoretical physics, improve mission suits and super suits, recreate the Internet with better accessibility and less monopolizing, if you wanted to, and like.. Several other things, and that was just today!” She insisted.

Max took a shot of whiskey and poured another, “You want one?” He asked Chase, knowing that whatever Charlotte was about to say, this uptight Chase dude was gonna feel some type of way about it.

“I’ve never had it before…” Chase said, a little leery. Max floated over the shot glass and Chase received it, smelled it and winced. To Charlotte, he said, “Yeah, I enjoyed doing all of that stuff in the theory room, but in real life, I have commitments and obligations…”

“That The Dom forced upon you,” she mentioned, taking a sip of her wine.

“That! That’s what I know that dude as.” He snickered under his breath and mumbled, “Mr. Davenport.”

Chase threw him a short glare, took a sip of the whiskey and groaned, then dropped the shot glass, but Max caught it and floated it back up. “That’s disgusting! Get it away from me! People DRINK this? On purpose??”

“You’re supposed to shoot it, Dude. Like this,” Max demonstrated, blew out a deep breath and nodded, “Then, give it a moment, and it runs through you and feels warm and good.”

“It feels like poison,” Chase said, grabbing the floating shot glass. But, Charlotte had it in her home and Max had just had two, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as the initial taste. He shot it like Max did and slammed the shot glass down, breathing hard and shaking his head, “I’ve decided that I am not a whiskey man.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, smirking.

Chase used his own molecular kinesis to put the shot glass away, then told Charlotte, “I thought that you had accepted that I’ve accepted that this is what I’m doing with my life…”

She furrowed her eyebrows and wondered, “Why did you think that? Chase, you were my motivation to start liberating supers and bionic people from destinies written out for them, so I don’t accept you accepting that, unless you’re accepting it because it’s what you want and not what you believe you should be doing!”

“What’s wrong with keeping a purpose that you’ve already been given?” Chase asked her, looking at her extremely hard and starting to kinda feel what Max was talking about, with the whiskey.

“Nothing… Unless… The person that gave it to you wasn’t qualified to create it for you. Davenport is a genius. We can’t take that away from him. But, he’s not a god and he isn’t infallible. His purpose for you makes A LOT of sense and helps a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean that it’s perfect or shouldn’t be challenged.”

“No, but me trying to do something just to be happy whenever what I do now actually saves lives… I mean… You’re a utilitarian, Charlotte. Does that seem like a better world to you? One where I’m creating games or… Or… being an Internet personality or whatever?”

“She didn’t say that you couldn’t still save the world, Man. I think she’s more like, thinking about the fact that you spend all of you life and make all of your decisions within those confines that Davenport put on you and nothing else. You could have been enjoying things like you did today, instead you’re like… such a Davensnore when you come out of the mission suit. You can save the world and still be your own human,” Max said. Then chuckled again and repeated, “Davensnore. Put it on the books, Folks. That’s his name now.”

“That’s not his name!” Charlotte said, but chuckling at little. “But, he’s right about everything else. IF you accept that what you want is to be a bionic savior and do that, then of course, I support that. But, you seemed so lighthearted and fulfilled today, exercising your smarts for fun and also coming up with very great ideas too, and maybe you’re meant to be a different kind of hero. I feel like I’m a hero and I definitely rarely hit a battlefield personally.”

“You DO! But… You’re not like me,” Chase said.

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Max asked, sitting up straight

“Just that she was able to grow up with the mentality that you can be what you want to be and do what you want to do and everyone will support it and motivate you, instead of put you in a box.”

“I WHAT?” Charlotte asked, putting her glass down.

“Now, you’re in trouble,” Max said, with a smile.

Chase’s eyes were wide with apprehension of whatever Charlotte was going to say next, but instead of saying anything, she just stared at him, in disappointment. God. That HAD to be worse than whatever he thought she was going to say. She looked so betrayed and let down and he wished that she would just tell him where he messed up at so that he could bring about a solution. Instead, she simply stared at him and thought her explosion inside of her mind...

“I know that you grew up in a basement, so normally, I’d let you slide on that, but you have learned too much history, have read too many books, and have an entire two black female humans in your immediate family and one male counterpart, as well. You have to know on some type of level that that statement you just made is NOT true at all and even now, today, with the things that both of us have accomplished in our own ways, IF you had accomplished the things that I have accomplished, do you know how much more well received and adored that you would be? Have you SEEN some of the criticisms against me and compared and contrasted it with what you get? Have you done the same with the compliments? I’m in your corner, Dude. Don’t… downplay my stuff because you don’t like what I’m saying. If that’s how it’s gonna be, forget that I asked you to venture into this with me.”

“Well,” she said after five full minutes, Chase noted almost right on the dot. He had upset her SO MUCH, that she just “took a five” and used it to stare at him in upset. It kinda made him miserable. He NEEDED her to say something to him about it. Even now, she didn’t. She picked her wine glass up, shot the rest and pointed at Max, “The scotch, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said, telekinetically pouring the shot and sent it to her. "By the way, what's this venture you and me are doin'? You still hadn't said."

Chase was quiet, mulling over the things that were unsaid while the other two talked.

Charlotte was a little flustered, but brightened up as soon as Max asked her about her idea. "I want to find and collect people like us, those who can and could change the world if only they didn't have significant barriers to doing so. I want to find and gather as many of us as I can, help to guide them in the right direction and with all of our combined intelligence, hard work and determination, we can undo our current, flawed system and rebuild a new and improved one that will benefit everybody."

"You… want to overthrow the government?" Chase tried to clarify.

"I want the government to be changed into something that makes sense and is run by smart and capable representatives, and works for the people in it."Chase looked really bothered and so she explained, "For far too long, the system has been slanted.. it was created by men who were all in the same type of station, with the same interests and they made a system that has been benefiting them and almost exclusively them for so long that it is DEBATABLE for anyone else to have a fair shake. I think, if we really want to change the world and save some lives, we've gotta change the foundation. Just like with Dystopia, but like… farther and wider."

”You had me at “overthrow the government.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You… did. You just used way too many words when you said it.”“Well, I meant enhance life for the people.”

Chase interjected, unsure if she knew what she was suggesting here, “You CAN’T without overthrowing the government!!”

“That sounds like the government’s problem,” Max said, taking his last shot of the night. (He knew his limit).

Charlotte now got up to sit next to Chase and look right at him, the most serious and concerned look on her face that he had ever seen before and he knew that this meant a lot to her and that she needed it to mean something to him too. Something good. He wasn’t FEELING that this could actually lead to something good, but he WANTED to feel what she seemed to want him to feel as she spoke, “Don’t you hate the fact that this country, this WORLD is constantly at war, people are always going without, someone is always oppressed, and almost everybody doesn’t have what they need not just to be happy, but to survive? And who is to blame for it? It shouldn’t be us, but it usually is. Scientists need to find a way. Doctors still haven’t found a cure, etc, so on and so forth. When people like us work beside or even worse BENEATH clueless ingrates who see us as their smart… equipment. And you two understand this more than my previous team. The world does read you a certain way, but also, when they know what you are, they let their biases slip in. They don’t trust bionic humans any more than they do androids. And supers? Not if they don’t know every single solitary fact about that individual and still, they keep them at bay. I don’t feel like I should have to speak about or make a list of my struggles with this place. It. Has. To. Change. We have to try to change it. We’re qualified to and if that isn’t being a hero and saving the world, I guess I just don’t know what is. I don’t want the future to be as oppressive as the present. The world isn’t in God’s hands. It’s in the hands of the smart and the brave.”

Chase nodded his head, “I... have to think about it. I mean.. How would it work? Are you just compiling a genius database and visiting them like some type of secret society and just inducting them and giving them this speech, or...?”

“Pretty much just like that, Sir,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders.”But, do think about it.” She stood up and Max stood up as well. “See you tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to go unwind.” Max stretched and grabbed the bottles from the table to move to sit closer to Chase, who looked confused as to why Max was moving next to him. Charlotte went through the corridor that passed through her courtyard to go inward to her quarters.

“Sure you don’t want anymore?” Max asked.

Chase furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “You said that I was in trouble... What is it that you know that I don’t about what I said?”

Max scoffed out a little laugh and shook his head, “Have you never read one book about racial injustice or the lingering effects of chattel slavery in America?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with - Ohhhhhhhhhhh.”

“You basically just told one of the most historically subjugated and mistreated persons in the nation that she had more privilege than you and the unspoken presumption, that her privilege was why she wanted to take this on.”

“Do you think she’s mad at me for it?”

“I think you hurt her feelings,” Max said. “A genuine apology goes a long way, though.”

“I’ll talk too her tomorrow.” They were quiet for a while, then Chase wondered, “Are you really on board with this? You’re answer is undoubtedly yes, to this idea of hers?”

“Yeah. Not like she asked me to rip out my own heart and throw it at a politician. She’s talking about moving silently to help fix things that a lot of powerful people are often loud and wrong about and STILL gain support. Whatever side of history Charlotte is ever on, I’ll always know its the right side.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But, you’ve gotta do what makes Chase Davensbore happy.”

“I thought it was Davensnore?” Chase said.

Max shrugged his shoulders. “It’s both, Bionic Boy. You’re super bland.”

“Your ego is unwavering.”

“I talk like this ‘cause I can back it up,” Max said.

“I can too, and I don’t act like this!”

Max furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “You don’t know Beyonce song references when you hear them?” He suddenly sat upright and looked right at Chase, like he had something very urgent that just happened. Chase sat up, equally as urgently, in reflex alone, only to have Max ask, “You do know who Beyonce is, right?”

Chase sank back into the seat and sighed, “Ugh. Of course I do... I just don’t know her catalog that well...”

“Just as shameful. I’m going to bed. You’d better apologize to Charlotte.”

“Of course, I will!” Chase snapped and whenever Max was gone, he got up and went to find her. Things were easier to communicate between them without “her other friend,” around. He was convinced that there never would have been any weird miscommunication without Max there, but it didn’t matter now. He was big enough to admit when he was wrong, and even if he wasn’t, in his mind... Charlotte was worth putting himself aside for a moment. Was she worth taking on the world, though? The status quo? He found her on the terrace, wind blowing through her curls. Her silhouette doing nothing more than watching the moon shine down on her and still looking like music. Is she worth it? Yes. Yes, she is.

#Henry Danger #Lab Rats #The Thundermans #Chasing Thunderbolts Fic #League of Extraordinary Geniuses #LOEG Update #Nesha Fics #Multiverse Fics

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riverboundao3ff · 5 years ago

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Riverbound, Chapter 1

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know…?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.