#why does everything at some point find a way of making me tick
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them as your older brother, finding out you have a crush on one of their members
— nct dream ᡣ𐭩
cw : some of them question ur taste in men but thats overall it, just some playful banter :D
a/n : really nervous for my exam tmr so i wrote this to calm me down ^^ gender neutral as always but it's a little shorter than my other one, hope you guys enjoyyyt <3
mark:
your crush on renjun wasn't that obvious at first
well that was until your youtube search history betrayed you
mark was borrowing your laptop one day and was so confused when the most recent searches was just renjun
"renjun fancam" "renjun cute moments" "renjun being mad at dreamies"
didn't put two and two together just yet but it was at the back of his mind for sure
would call you to visit the dreamies more often to see if his assumption was right okay scooby doo
you'd bring snacks and drinks most of the time, somehow always getting renjun's favourite stuff
texted you the moment he was sure that you do have a crush on his bandmate
you admitted it and since then he's been the #1 y/njun shipper
gives you updates about renjun
if it isn't obvious enough, he does approve of junnie (maybe a little too much)
renjun:
came to him one day for help since you were thinking of confessing to haechan
looked directly into your eyes and tells you you can do better than haechan
"haechan? of all people??"
proceeded to tell you that he already knows about your little crush
would tell you things that haechan likes or dislikes, even though he looks like he disapproves
secretly happy that its someone he knows really well and not some random douche
you'd notice jun's little ways of helping you get with your crush
you give him a small smile and he'd mouth to thank him later
would still nag to you because he really can't see what you see in his bandmate
"whatever makes you happy"
don't worry, he approved of haechan after seeing the way he treats you
jeno:
tried to act surprise when you said you found mark interesting
you hit him jokingly because of how bad his acting was
teases you about your crush
when you visit the dreamies he does that thing with his eyebrows and makes it really obvious that you like his bandmate
but for real though, he'd be really supportive and actually try to help you out
would still give you the 'don't get your hopes up' talk since he doesn't want you to be heartbroken
happy that you came to him for help with your little crush (you? not so happy because he's so obvious)
"mark did you see y/n's new hair?" "mark doesn't y/n smell good today?" "mark you're not gonna give y/n a hug too?"
you want to smack jeno every time he does it thank god mark lee is oblivious as hell
haechan:
thought that you were joking when you said like jaemin
realised that you were serious and suddenly theres plan a all the way till z to get you and jaemin together
one of then was to lock you both in a closet (in hopes that it ends with you guys kissing ONLY)
like jeno, tells you to not get your hopes up too high since the last thing he wants is to see his sibling cry over a MAN.
still questions why you like jaemin though, he thinks that that guy is weird
tried to tell you things to give you the ick about jaemin but it doesn't work
at one point he got too tired waiting for you to confess so he told jaemin himself
don't worry, he told you when he was going to spill the beans (yeah like 5 seconds before he said it)
jaemin:
jisung?? of all people??? that boy can't even take care of himself, how would he take care of you?
gives you a whole ted talk on why you should go for a real man like mark or jeno instead
ends up seeing what you see in jisung though
tall? deep voice? big hands? can dance? that ticks off everything in your list!
the talk ends with him being supportive and brainstorming ideas on how to make you guys a real couple
would straight up tell jisung that you like him
probably gave jisung a whole protective brother talk that scared the poor guy
tells you that it's the only way because things need to be clearly said to jisung or else he'd be too shy to initiate anything
asks for cat food in return if everything works out because he has children to feed!
chenle:
be fr, zhong chenle knows everything
so when you told him that you like jeno he did not bat an eye
tbh he was just waiting for you to admit it before going through with his plan
the plan? you accidentally tripping in front of jeno, landing on top of him, and kissing him
you just stand there thinking if your brother was actually stupid enough to think that it'll work
doesn't play when it comes to y/nno
but if jeno does end up liking you back suddenly chenle's favourite place is the gym
also doesn't play when it comes to protecting his sibling
warns jeno that if he breaks your heart then he will break other things!
jisung:
was appalled when he found out that you like chenle
chenle? zhong chenle?? his best friend of 8 years zhong chenle ???
give him a second to take it all in
finally connected the dots on why you keep asking for updates about chenle
would help you out in a subtle way
ways like making chenle sit beside you or asking chenle to call you instead of doing it himself
backfires soon after since he told chenle that you watch basketball
forgot to add in wives, you watch basketball wives not basketball itself
can't keep a secret for too long, especially one about chenle so give it 2 weeks tops before your crush finds out
fair to say it ended with both of them spamming you (one to apologise and the other? other reasons)
#nct#nct dream#park jisung x reader#jisung x reader#chenle x reader#jaemin x reader#haechan x reader#jeno x reader#renjun x reader#mark x reader#mark lee x reader#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct x you#nct dream x you#nct dream reactions#nct reactions#nct dream fluff#nct fluff#nct headcanons#nct dream headcanons#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct scenarios
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Decimation.
Youve been stealing back millions of eggs from Grizzco for years. And in a single night, they took it all back.
How does it feel to face a possible extinction?
Uhh lore abt Grizzco and the salmonids below!
So in my interp, Grizzco started somewhat small, bc back then Grizz and...an associate... were doing everything by themselves. When his associate went nuts, and almost ended the world by driving the nearby salmonid nations nuts as well, Inkadia launched Project Piranesi. (More on that another time.) Grizz had to think of another way to get those eggs..
…how perfect was it then, that Inkopolis, a fairly new city, was having a bit of a salmonid problem?
Grizz inserted his corporation as part of the damage control along the run routes. it only grew from there.
he expanded to the Splatlands later, though admittedly the folks there were more adapted to the salmonids compared to Inkadia. Its not as strong a hold but Splatsville and its surrounding establishments appreciated the extra precautions Grizzco provided.
Neos born fighting for her life and for her clans. Its why shes so aggressive and finds it difficult to be anything but. If shes not angry, fighting for her clans to have a life of peace…for a present and future where she can live -- what is she?
she and 3 arent so different, in that regard.
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Grizzco says that the last 7 big run locales had "unusual magnetic readings" and in my world that just means THEY DAMN PUT IT THERE!!!!
They intentionally put something there to confuse the migrators and to steal the next generation -- and the Inkfish? Ofc theyd fight for their homes.
The Splatlandians TRIED to avoid the routes when they built the city after thousands of years of observation. Sorta like the dykes and canals some cities build next to swelling rivers.
Another comparison is that the big runs are just like other natural calamities in the eyes of the nations. Its like a flood, an earthquake, a typhoon. Hell its somewhat announced that way too. The infrastructure is built with the runs in mind. The powers that be have built countermeasures.
*I say try bc some sleazy/unaware corporations still built along those routes bc of the cheaper land/other "economical reasons."
And then Inkadia just wasnt aware at all, being a newer city compared to the ancient splatlands.
Grizzco intentionally causes property damage for bigger gains. Theyve been suffering a "shortage" thanks to Neo3 and the platoon's banditry. In a bid to take everything back and more, they decided to make the biggest event in the Splatlands the salmonid's next target.
They know that EVERYONE will show up to it.
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I think seeing that counter keep ticking up gives Neo3 a sense of creeping dread. Thats the number of eggs she put back in the sea. And more. All done in a single night. All her work, down the drain.
The platoon does manage to get a LOT of it back but god. What about the fallen runners, who were supposed to get to the actual spawning grounds?
Those lives disrespected and their bodies unable to feed the spawn. (Theres only so much the survivors can drag back.)
I wonder too, how many of those runners arent there for the runs at this point. They are there to kill.
Ticked off by the persistent attacks and the misdirection. As Polyphemus says in Epic, "Take from you what you take from me."
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After multi-magnetic field disruptors in the biggest run, these salmonid have had enough and want to hit back. I wouldnt blame them...god, I wouldnt blame them
The salmonids have never resorted to kidnapping any inkfish. Theyve killed. Yeah. Part of the whole running ceremony. But it was always just a part of that.
To actually go out of their way to fight instead of spawn? Thats different. In the grand run, inkfish may notice that some bosses arent dropping golden eggs. Bc they were never here to spawn. Theyre here to drag every inkfish they find into hell.
Subsequent big runs may end up with more and more of those eggless bosses.
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Happy 700 mil!! I HAD MANY NEO3 AND SALMONID THOUGHTS. THINGS ARE GETTING SO FUCKED UP IN SPLOONWORLD. The platoon as a whole is trying to restore peace between the Splatlands, Inkadia, Octaria AND the Salmonid nations, but unless Inkadia and the Splatlands change (COUGHS mostly Inkadia), nothing can really be done.
This is the shit 3 fights for. That harmony is what they dream of. The whole world rests on their shoulders and they press on, ever forward.
#UHHH DESPITE MY RAMBLING HERE I CONGRATULATE EVERYONE FOR GETTING THAT QUOTA!! LETS KEEP GOIN GOIN GOIN#I NEED THOSE SCALES.#splatoon#splatoon fanart#agent neo 3#neo agent 3#big run#grand big run#grizzco#salmonid#opal owl’s nest#have fun with that slice of worldbuilding!! its so fuckign messed up
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A Jekyll&Hyde type akuma whose power is to bring out a hidden or repressed part of your personality (but like, making two of you instead of switching in one body), and when Chat gets hit suddenly there’s both “normal” Chat (I’ll get to that in a sec) and Cat Walker/Patte de Velours at the same time.
(Cue Ladybug freaking out upon learning they’re the same person)
“Normal” Chat looks the same, but is just a bit more intense (since this is Adrien’s way of “letting loose” to not be how he is as a civilian, he’s not too different, but because of the split he does lose some usual traits). I.e. *heavily* flirting with LB, going at it with the puns, more agressive and impulsive with the akuma, doesnt like following orders (especially with the remaining feelings of anger towards the partnership being put further into question as LB prefers CW), heart on his sleeve
Cat Walker is also not super different to the episode he was in, but is also more intense thanks to the akuma: all business- no nonsense, doesn’t laugh at jokes (even in a “I’ll laugh if you want” way, like in Kuroneko), cordial to LB, follows LB’s orders to a T (to the point of not making his own decisions in battle), calm and collected (almost emotionless, even with that plastered smile)
CN starts to hate CW as the fight goes on, because LB seems to prefer him (and she’s understandably getting annoyed with CN’s impulsivity). CN gets territorial, saying that he’s LB’s partner. CW: “then why did she replace you with me?” (Man, look at all the self hatred in Adrien’s psyche!)
So CN runs off and leaves them alone to fight the akuma. This ticks LB off even more, but she has an akuma to deal with- and she has CW- so she lets him go.
As the fight goes on, some of the same issues from Kuroneko occur, so she also gets frustrated with CW too.
Since he’s acting more extreme than normal (more like someone awaiting orders than a partner due to the Jekyll&Hyde thing), it causes more problems (like him waiting for her decisions leaving openings where he could’ve done something proactive)
She actually blows up at him, asking why he didn’t do anything (“I was waiting for you to tell me the plan!”), and she says he should be able to think on his own, he doesn’t need her to tell him everything, but- “I thought I was just being what you wanted.”
(He’s shocked and genuinely hurt- though it’s still pretty quiet emotion, subdued and apologetic)
And that’s when it clicks for her what becoming CW was back in Kuroneko. He was molding himself for her. And this version of CW is even more of that. She realizes just how much CN suppresses, not just for her, but for everyone- why else would this be a major aspect of his personality?
(Also, Patte de Velours? Velvet Paw? That’s basically saying he’s been declawed. Yikes.)
She makes CN get his butt back to the fight (or she finds him- he may have been doing something while away like talking with someone, maybe Alya or Nino, or Luka). CN and CW argue more, with insults. Then she goes on a whole rant/lecture to them about how important they both are, both to her and to each other, how they are one person, and their traits are both important, but each extreme is not great. Ex: instinct/impulse and service/obedience (the key is self control, so that your emotions aren’t controlling you, but neither is another person). He is allowed to be both! Neither personality is bad, and hating one is just hating himself- he can’t just reject a fundamental part of himself.
She makes them agree to work together to defeat the akuma. It’s awkward at first, but they get a rhythm by seeing where each one is needed in the plan (LB does still do that, but how they follow is more fluid now). Two cataclysms now! Yay! (Maybe they used their powers already and have to de transform, and they see themselves as Adrien- the same one, not different, and it gets through their skulls. Idk I’m spitballing).
They have a quick talk between the two about accepting each other, it won’t be easy, I’m nervous, we’ll be okay (“yeah, I think we will :)”), etc.
Ends with them combining back with the ladybug cure. Surprise! His outfit is combined too! (Honestly, I just want the ponytail with the fluffy hair)
LB and CN have a talk after recharging about everything. CN apologizes for lying about CW and explains why and how he did it. LB didn’t realize how much he hid. She never meant for him to change or hate parts of himself. He thought she didn’t like the CN parts of him, but LB promises that isn’t true. She admits she did get… annoyed, but never hate! She loves both sides of him. Besides, CW didn’t work out that first time, remember? (Though she very much leaves out her intense crushing being the deciding factor there)
CN admits he feels more, well, not whole, exactly, he’s actually still pretty uncertain about what all this means for “who he is,” but… he can at least say he feels less like he has to perform all the time. He loves being Chat Noir, but he is exaggerating a bit when he transforms, in part to be not like his civilian life. He tells her he’s not like that as a civilian, but he’s also not like Cat Walker. But he’s not really sure who “he” is yet. (What I’m getting at is Oblivio!Adrien- dorky, but not over the top, in love, trusts his lady to make the plan, but is still proactive, etc.)
LB says that’s okay, he doesn’t have to figure it out right away. But she’ll be there to help him figure it out.
END
#miraculous#mlb#miraculous ladybug#adrien agreste#marinette#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#chat noir#cat walker#patte de velours#jekyll and hyde#akuma#ladynoir#ladywalker#I’m not salting either version of Adrien#yes cat Walker was said to be more like how he acts with his dad#but that was also exaggerated and does actually include his actual personality traits#it’s also why the end isn’t complete#self discovery and identity aren’t a quick fix#it’s more about him accepting both parts and not just being one thing and hiding the other#self hatred is not welcome in this house#healthy acceptance is what he needs rn#not molding himself to expected roles#rant over
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Sorry, sorry, one more question: what is something that genuinely ticks you off, your least favorite thing, for each season? It can be something that's isolated to just one case, or something season-wide. The sky is the limit!
Finally! An excuse to rant about some of my issues with Criminal Case! Thanks, asharkapologist!
Season 1 - Grimsborough
Am I allowed to say the Johnson family’s smiles? Those grins give me the creeps!
Jokes aside, I think my least favourite thing from Grimsborough was that we didn’t get a lot of character development. I know it's the first season, but I wish we could have focused on specific characters (especially the teammates) like we do in the following seasons. It makes a lot of their stories feel incomplete and lacking in uniqueness. I know it's not that big of an issue, but it annoys me that unless a character returns in later seasons, they never get a chance to get more development and time in the spotlight.
Season 2 - Pacific Bay
The geography. HOW DOES A DESERT EXIST NEXT TO SNOW COVERED MOUNTAINS?!?!?! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!?!
I admit, I thought it was a cool concept when I first played the season, but revisiting it later in life made me realize how weird Pacific Bay is. Logically, there's no way the districts could exist beside each other. And I know MotP’s geography is a little strange, too, because of Coyote Gorge, but that’s just one district, unlike several. While I think some of PB’s district environments are interesting, having so many unique districts coexisting gives me the impression of trying too hard to make something stand out and just ending up making it confusing.
Season 3 - Save The World
While STW is in my top three seasons (it used to be number one, but MotP took that spot months ago), some things annoy me. One is that it was never explained how the Bureau had labs/offices everywhere they went, even in the smaller, lesser-known countries. It may be trivial and nitpicky, but I couldn't help but wonder. Did they have offices in every country? Did they just rent labs and transport their equipment everywhere they went? How bad was their jet lag?
(Okay, the last one had nothing to do with my original point, but you can’t tell me the Bureau’s sleeping schedules weren’t constantly messed up by the ever-changing time zones!)
Even if there had been an off-handed comment, it might not have been so confusing. I think it was only once stated that they visited a country’s Bureau HQ during “The Impossible Dream,” where it opened with the title card “At the Bureau’s Spanish office…” But do they have Bureau buildings everywhere or not?!
Season 4 - Mysteries of The Past
While I love almost everything about MotP, one part that annoys me is that we moved past the Flying Squad's initial purpose (taking down police corruption) almost right after the first district. Don’t get me wrong; I love the districts' plots and how they flow together, but for something as serious as police corruption (especially a city-wide one!), we dealt with it rather quickly! I never noticed until someone pointed it out to me, so now, when I revisit the season, I keep wondering why dealing with police corruption didn’t last longer or get focused on more!
I still love the season regardless of this fact, but I wonder how it could have changed if we’d focused on it longer… Using police corruption would have worked in districts like Crimson Banks with the gang wars and later on with the Rochester situation (I could see some of them paying off the police).
Season 5 - The Conspiracy
When I first played the season, it annoyed me how long it took us to learn what was behind the dome and get into the Ad Astra plot. The idea is cool, but whenever people talk about the dome before Misty Grove, I would think, “Come on! Can we find out why this is so important already?!” I get teasing, and foreshadowing keeps people in suspense (stars know I love doing it with my stories), but it was to the point where we were unnecessarily delaying the plot since, after the reveal, it and Ad Astra became the main focus of the season.
Season 6 - Trave In Time
The gameplay. I don’t know why they changed it to Travel in Time, but I HATED IT! It made it impossible for me to get immersed in the season like I did for others, and for a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to like it despite the incredible plot and characters. Eventually, the season grew on me, and I came to enjoy it outside of its gameplay, but I don’t know if I could make myself replay it… It's nice revisiting the lab analysis cutscenes, but beyond that, I have no desire to replay the game.
Season 7 - Supernatural Investigations
I hated how PS ruined George Mathison’s character development. I thought his story and development were amazingly written, and I loved the clueless-human/FBI-agent-obsessed-with-arresting-the-hunters-turned-ally storyline! It was an excellent plot for him! They should have kept Mathison like that and not added the “surprise plot twist” in the final case, which destroyed all that character development…
I also hated how generally rushed the ending was and how poorly they finished off the characters’ stories.
Season 8 - City of Romance
Cases 1-17 (/jk)
But in all seriousness, it might be quicker to ask me what I liked about City of Romance! I keep saying it has potential, and given the right rewrite, it could become a good season, but sadly, the canon one is very lacklustre… However, disregarding how rushed and unpolished the season is, I didn’t like how overly sexualized it was and how bad the representation was. Paris is the city of love, and love isn’t just sex; there are countless other ways it can be shown. I wished we could have seen better gender and sexuality representation like in previous seasons… And also not finish with the most rushed and confusing wedding in CC history, but that’s a rant for another day!
And that’s a wrap! I have other issues with the game, but I think I covered enough in this ask. Thanks for the request!
#criminal case#criminal case grimsborough#criminal case pacific bay#criminal case save the world#criminal case mysteries of the past#criminal case the conspiracy#criminal case travel in time#criminal case supernatural investigations#criminal case city of romance#astra's thoughts#ask
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SPOILERS for Across the Spiderverse, ganna rant about Gwen’s character and the unnecessary hate she gets. 💀
After finally seeing Spiderverse, yeah…I don’t trust Gwen haters. Like holy shit, I have seen SO many people get on her ass. And I get it. She lied to Miles, she let him down, she screwed up. I think what just ticks me off is that people today just love making everything so fucking black and white. This film isn’t one note, it’s complex. You feel for BOTH sides, not just Miles. I never thought some people would need to have it spelled out but….Miles wasn’t the only character going through something. Gwen does too, and this film explores that, like it legit makes me wonder if people just…turned their brains off whenever the film focused on her, which was legit most of the first half.
Not only was she still carrying the weight of her friend’s death while also feeling guilt of leaving him, but her own father is a cop who is out to get spider woman, believing that she is a criminal who let Peter die. It isn’t easy on Gwen, the opening scene of her trying to get lost in playing the drums and shutting down her band mates shows that she wants to avoid her feelings. Miles was the ONLY friend she had, she didn’t make any other close friends other than Peter. She felt alone, she felt trapped, and once her identity was revealed to her father, the moment he tries to arrest her is her breaking point, it’s why she joined Miguel and the others. She had nowhere to go, she felt like she couldn’t go back and was utterly alone until the spider crew accepted her.
When it comes to Gwen and some of the other characters, some of y’all need to see their perspective. They all lost someone they loved, someone they cared about, and Miguel comes to them and tells them that their trauma happened for a reason. It made them stronger, it made them move forward and created who they are today. They all felt alone at one point, only to realize that they weren’t. They also know that you can’t save everyone, and wether Miguel’s point of view is morally corrupt or not, everyone felt they were doing what was right.
In Gwen’s case, she WANTED to see Miles, and she DID see Miles. She wanted to hang out with him so badly but couldn’t, and you eventually see her guilt for not telling Miles the full story, how he wasn’t supposed to be here, how his dad is going to die and he can’t do anything about it. She felt like she had no choice, Jessica was strict on her (for good reason) and Gwen knew she had a job to do, she like everyone else wanted to save the multiverse and protect everyone, even if it meant breaking Miles, and his dad’s death. I don’t want to make it sound like I’m excusing Gwen, but I find it so funny that people beg for complex and flawed characters, and then when we actually get them, they’re targeted for making mistakes. Cause yeah, god forbid a teenage girl feels alone, doesn’t know what to do, and makes a mistake.
And what’s even more insulting is that Gwen actually REALIZED her mistake. She knows she fucked up, she KNOWS she hurt Miles and let him down, her line of “we’re supposed to be the good guys”- is important because that’s her realizing just how far Miguel took it to a bad level. We all see how utterly broken she is when Miles tells her he should have never come, and broke her web off. In the end, she switches sides and decides to GO AFTER Miles. That’s her making a choice, realizing she was wrong and doing the right thing. Gwen is still a good person guys. She cares for Miles, she’s not a snake or malicious. She’s a troubled teen who wants to be a hero, but was split between two sides, along with the weight on her back regarding her father and her friend. This movie begs the question of saving one person or making sacrifices to safe others. You understand BOTH sides even if Miguel went about it the wrong way.
Speaking of Miguel, the last thing I want to talk about is the obvious sexism going on, cause I feel like that mostly stems from why so many people hate Gwen, cause MAN do people lose brain cells when they’re horny. Like…let me get this straight, y’all get on Gwen, a teenage girl btw….call her a bitch, a snake who doesn’t deserve Miles and a horrible person, but praise a grown man who ridiculed, chased down, clawed, and body slammed a 15 year old kid, calling him a mistake over and over again all because he wanted to save his father???? Yeah okay, if you’re someone who doesn’t like Gwen, fine…but if you hate on her and praise Miguel, a dude who needs therapy and beefed with a 15 year old……then you’re just sexist…I don’t know what to tell you. Same goes for Jessica Drew. Like so many people are quick to say Miguel is complex and that they get where he’s coming from, but when it’s Gwen or Jessica?? They’re just bitches apparently. 🫤
So yeah, regardless of if you like her character or not, Gwen deserves better fr. I for one can’t wait for the next film and to see her mend her relationship with Miles, because they do genuinely have a good relationship, they just need to fix it. That’s all I wanted to say…oh, and one more thing, the way the animators on the movie got treated was NOT okay and the film better be delayed. No way in hell is it coming out next year. Do better Sony/Phil Lord ect, treat your animators right. Kay bye.
#spider Gwen#gwen stacy#across the spider verse spoilers#across the spiderverse#spider man#Gwen Stacy deserves better#miles molares#miguel o'hara#spider man: across the spider verse#rant#character analysis#unrelated#animation#sony animation#spiderverse spoilers#Spiderverse
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🔥
"I wanna make Minthara nice!" "I wanna make Minthara good!" "I wanna make Minthara less evil!". Shut up. Seriously. Shut the hell up. Making the bad guy good is sooooo cliche and overdone at this point. Plus, Minthara is as great as she is because she is evil and is selectively nice to the ones she likes.
Baldur's Gate 3 is all about subverting expectations. So let's subvert expectations shall we. We shouldn't be talking about making the evil guys better. We should be talking about making the good guys worse. I want to make Wyll and Karlach evil. I'm gonna ramble a little bit...
The potential for a corruption plot is literally built into Wyll's storyline with him having a literal devil on his shoulders the whole time. I mean, we can kinda get a glimpse of how that corruption would work in Act 1 when it comes to Wyll facing Karlach. Not to mention, Wyll being the son of the Grand Duke and having his father and city turn their backs on him after sacrificing his soul to save everyone would also present a perfect opportunity for Wyll to just say "fuck 'em". But can you just imagine the story potential of Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard who is still pacted with Mizora? The absolute utter nightmare that would bring cause then the Hells would have control of Baldur's Gate?
The only real way to even play a corrupt Wyll is to do his origin. But it would be so much more fascinating to BE one of the influences in his corruption. This would also make his decision to break the pact so much more impactful and it would be HIS choice. Now I have always firmly held the belief that when it comes to his pact, it is always up to the player because Wyll will always make the same choice and he will always choose his father. So, it has to be the players choice if you want some different outcome. Wyll choosing his father may end up having him sell his soul to Zariel for eternity, but it doesn't corrupt him or change it. But, what if it did? What if we had the ability to have a negative impact on Wyll and this choice would be him making a choice of his soul in whether or not he wants to be a good man or to listen to the corrupting voices around him. Because, to his core, Wyll is a good man. But that good nature can be overpowered by the influences around him. If anything, this scene could play out similarly to how it does for Shadowheart and the Nightsong.
And Karlach, oh Karlach. I love my fiery ball of sunshine. But I find it so odd that someone who spent every single day for 10 years fighting a war isn't the least bit hardened by it. No anxiety, no PTSD, no paranoia, no trust issues. It's actually amazing that Karlach comes out as nice as she is from the Blood War, but is a missed opportunity. As refreshing as it is, I do find it strange that she comes out so trusting of people and having so much faith in others. If Karlach was a little bit more mistrusting and a little bit more paranoid, it would be an easy little thing to leverage into making her worse.
A lot of Karlachs story kinda reminds me of the main plot of Cyberpunk 2077 where you have a character who has a literal ticking time bomb within them. But I specifically wanna draw the parallels between Karlachs engine and the cybernetic enhancements. In Cyberpunk, there is this condition called "cyberpsychosis" in which someone just fucking snaps and goes bonkers and starts killing everything around them for no reason. There is no known reason as to why it happens and the only common element amongst all cyberpsychoes is that they have at least 1 cybernetic enhancement. There also is no way to prevent it from happening, no way to predict that it will happen, and no cure for cyberpsychosis. With Karlachs heart and a lot of her cardio vascular system having been replaced by an infernal engine, I feel like this would also serve great potential for internal corruption and have a fantasy version of "cyberpsychosis". Infernal magic is constantly coursing through her and she is literally on fire all the time. This should definitely have an impact on her. And the only way to prevent her from going full "cyberpsycho" is to do the upgrades with Dammon. Your decision at the grove and/or Last Light would have an impact on Karlachs future sanity.
She would be a ticking time bomb in more ways than one and it would be inevitable. Either she dies cause her enhancement gives out, or she loses her damn mind and you're forced to put her down. This is what would make her ending so much more tragic. It's already hard enough watching her burn on the pier. It would absolutely shatter my damn heart to have to put her down cause the engine corrupted her mind. The Avernus ending is damn near identical to the Sun ending in Cyberpunk 2077 as you have found a temporary way to halt the affliction, but no known way to cure it. Just the hope that there might be a cure.
How many times do we have to watch evil characters become better? Does that not get boring? Stop focusing on making evil companions better. Focus on making good companions worse. It's a hell of a lot more interesting but also adds a lot more nuance to their characters and makes them feel more alive. Especially when in all these cases, none of them are born evil or want to be evil, but are made evil by their circumstances. Being evil is easy, but being good is hard. Good is also what is expected of us. And I find it much more compelling to watch a good character fight the temptation of evilness, than to watch an evil character find annoyance in being good.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#wyll#wyll ravengard#karlach#karlach cliffgate#minthara#minthara baenre#this is my unpopular opinion and i'm sure it'll upset some people#not a lot of people are fond of evil characters and probably don't want to see their faves become corrupted#if you wanna discuss let's discuss#if you wanna brainstorm with me let's brainstorm#but if you're just gonna spew hatred for any of these characters#or talk about how they need to die#or how you kill them in every run#then it is best that you do not speak as that is not constructive to any conversation
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time after time [6]
series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
word count: 12.8k
chapter warnings: maybe reacquaint yourselves with the story premise, it's been a hot minute; characters refusing to be honest with themselves and each other; violence against side characters, minor injury descriptions; strange is still annoying
a/n: this is quite possibly the scariest fic update i've ever made. a lot has happened since the last chapter was posted, and i won't bore you with all of it. suffice it to say, i missed sharing this story. thank you for being patient with me.
series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3
six: butterfly effect
Working with Sam and Bucky was different than working with Natasha and Steve had been.
At the Compound, it had felt terrifyingly easy to find your place, to slip into the new role they granted you as if you were always meant to fill it. You’d felt that way before, and it hadn’t turned out quite so well. Maybe that was why you used to dread the end.
Now, however, for the first time in a while, you constantly had to prove yourself in order to not be left back in that dark place they’d found you in, alone and trying to make sense of any of it. And you liked that. The challenge was something you could live with, something you could enjoy more than the ever chilling anxiousness that things were simply too good to be true.
So when Sam called you on for a follow-up mission shortly after the first one, you jumped at the chance.
It didn’t matter that you barely talked about anything but work, even when you were hanging out in your spare time; in fact, you much preferred that to digging up the past. You even learned to find a wicked sort of enjoyment in provoking Bucky’s initial dislike of you to the point of where he would barely speak to you at all unless it was to snap at you.
You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick.
It wasn’t as easy to get under the new cap’s skin.
"You’re making us sound like we’re partners in a law firm," Sam said, a smile clearly audible in his voice even though his eyes didn’t betray it. Bucky didn’t even dignify you with a clench of his jaw.
"What?" you said, crossing your legs. "Every newspaper in the city calls you 'Wilson and Barnes'. Don’t you ever read the articles about yourselves?"
"Unlike some people, I don’t have all the time in the world," Sam said, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed.
"Pity. The Bulletin called you the 'nation’s new dynamic duo' last week." You looked at Bucky, your eyebrows raised in amusement. "You’ve officially been downgraded to a sidekick, Barnes."
He answered with an empty glare of his own. "And what does that make you?" he said, but not like a question.
"Nothing at all," you still grinned. "Everything is right in the universe."
The reporters had yet to pick up on your addition to the team, which was proof enough that your powers still sufficed to fly under the radar. Combined with the fact that you were actually regularly talking to people again—and people who weren’t your therapist or your customers no less—, things almost felt like they were settling into a new kind of normal. Still somewhat weird, and still a struggle each day, but somewhat hopeful, nevertheless.
You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.
“Right. You’d prefer people not knowing about your creepy powers.”
"Aww." You tilted your head to the side happily. "You think I’m creepy."
Bucky scoffed into his mug, refusing to look at you like he always did, and then he strolled off again.
In truth, you couldn’t blame him all that much. You’d lived with your powers all your life and still found them unsettling sometimes, particularly when they got away from you and left you trapped in a universe that refused to move.
That was none of his business, though.
Besides, Bucky had taken to moving around so quietly you could never tell he was there until he’d cough and you’d flinch, usually dropping whatever you were holding in your hands. You’d already cracked your phone screen twice.
Not that he’d know, or care if he did. It gave you great satisfaction to erase his amused smirk from existence.
"Give it time," Sam said without moving. "He doesn’t like new people."
"Neither do I," you murmured, and he snorted. "What?"
"Pretend with me all you want, but maybe do a bit of introspection there."
You crossed your arms with a pout. "You sound like my therapist."
"Mhm," Sam hummed, opening one eye to look at you. "You owe me fifty bucks for that."
"Fuck you."
"Oh, would you look at that, the price just went up."
He chuckled as you flipped him off and went to look for the coffee pot.
Of course, your way got blocked. The downsides of not hating having people around.
Bucky was leaning against the counter, considering you. "You go to therapy?"
"You should try it some time," you said distractedly, reaching around him to get your favorite mug. Bucky recoiled like he was afraid you’d burn him. You shook your head in annoyance. "Helps with the stink eye."
"Is that what they told you?"
"They told me I needed to process my grief, but I decided to focus on some more achievable goals." You took a sip of your coffee, sighing in comfort. "We came up with a compromise."
Bucky scoffed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He still hadn’t taken his gloves off around you.
"Sounds like a way to drag it out," he said.
You frowned into your cup. "It’s not a race, Barnes. There’s no finish line for this shit."
Something odd went over his face, but he went back to avoiding your gaze when you tried to make it out. You knew him well enough by then to get the hint, and so you left him alone.
What was it to you if he didn’t want to warm up to you. That had no bearing on the fact that overall, your situation wasn’t all too bad anymore.
It was something, you supposed as you curled up in your spot on the couch with your book later that day, slipping in and out of time to keep your company a little longer because deep down, you knew you were sick of being alone.
It was weird and different, yes, but it was still something anyway. Something to do with your afternoons again.
A reason to get up in the morning.
*****
"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks quietly, carefully, but he makes no attempt to pull back from your embrace. It allows you to take another shuddering breath, inhaling his scent until it makes you dizzy.
The fact that you probably won’t be this close to him again any time soon makes you press into his chest even harder, hard enough to feel his heart flutter against your forehead, the shock of the situation making it pick up speed.
For a split second, you slip into a sort of vacuum, your thoughts quieting as he keeps mumbling to you, and in that blissful moment, your situation doesn’t seem quite so dire anymore, more like a bad dream. You’re safe now, aren’t you? How could you not be?
But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus.
You don’t want to have to do this, you realize once your gasps for air start calming again. You’re not sure if you can bear it.
But nothing in this loop has been about what you wanted.
And so your resolve is made, with your heart sinking until it’s hidden away deep, deep inside of your chest. You ball your hands into fists to keep your fingers from twitching.
Two or three times he watches you inhale, start to say something, halt before you can, almost choking on it. Like your body is refusing to go through with it.
"How do you know when I’m lying?" you finally ask, and your voice sounds oddly clear in your small bathroom.
Bucky’s face goes from concern to confusion, his frown deepening. You want to smoothe it away with your thumb.
You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.
"What?" he asks, and he still sounds so damn gentle.
"I’ve never been able to lie to you," you say. "What’s my tell?"
You can feel him move away from you and the ache of it makes you look again. His shirt and his hands are covered in his own blood, and you’re sure there’s some fucking metaphor in the way it stains the golden inlets of his vibranium arm crimson but for the most part, you can’t unsee the damn irony of it all.
Because you’ve pissed him off now.
"You scared the shit out of me, Y/N. And Sam, too." There’s the sharpness in his voice you know all too well. You haven’t heard it in a while. "What the hell is going on?"
"I’m trapped in a time loop," you say, squeezing your fists more tightly. "I’ve been reliving this day for weeks, my powers aren’t working, I’m the only one who can stop time from completely collapsing, I can’t do that without my powers, and you’re gonna die later today. Am I lying?"
It’s maybe the worst way you’ve ever told him, because watching Bucky’s face change is almost too much. This is exactly why you’re doing it, though; as long as you’re going through this loop with a giant guilty knot in your stomach, you’re not going to make any progress. And you need to put an end to all of it.
So you meet his gaze, almost unwavering, and you don’t blink.
His shock bursts free as an incredulous laugh. "What?"
"I’m stuck," you say again, slower, nodding at his hands, his blood, continuing to push, "and you keep dying."
Bucky looks down, then, before his gaze falls back onto you and he sits back on his heels. The pause lasts for way too long, heavy and smelling of iron, and you’re pretty sure you’re suffocating. He only says one word, and it sounds so defeated. "How?"
You swallow heavily. "You got shot on a mission," you say, but he shakes his head, the fire returning to his eyes.
"No. How did you get stuck?"
"I …" You blink, because you’re not prepared for this question, because you can never predict what he’s going to say, because he keeps doing that to you, because somehow, and not like you’ve expected, you feel like you’ve been here before.
How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.
"It was an accident," you finally say, helplessly, defensively.
There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes. "What happened?"
"You died. You died that first time and I didn’t—I couldn’t …" You swallow the sob that threatens to shake your voice again. Damnit, you’re supposed to push him away.
He moves his arm, then hesitates, as if he wants to reach out to you but changes his mind at the very last moment.
Right. He doesn’t normally do that.
Except he has.
He has held your hand and pulled you closer and written on your arm and let you lean on him with the full weight of your body, as if to him, you weighed nothing at all. He’s been offering to carry your load so many times, and he doesn’t remember a single one of them.
"Please don’t look at me like that," you say tonelessly, watching Bucky retreat.
"Like what?"
"Like I’m gonna fall apart at any moment. And yes," you add when his mouth opens, "I—I know I just did, I’m aware of the irony, but this is exactly why I can’t keep telling you, I don’t—I can’t stand it." You press your wrists against your temples, ignoring the buzz of the whirling time symbols against your skin, the stinging in your eyes. "You shouldn’t even—I mean, are you even the slightest bit worried about yourself? Because I feel like I’m the only one here, and I should’ve just—"
You stop yourself, shaking your head. Your hands are very clammy all of a sudden, and when you tug at your rings just to do something, one of them slips off your finger and clangs against the tiles as if to punctuate the silence.
When you reach down, you move your wrist in a way that makes you hiss in pain and flinch back. Bucky’s eyes flit between your own and your hand, his frown deepening in a strangely soft way. "Did you break it?" he asks quietly.
"I’m fine," you mumble, and he looks at you disapprovingly. "You’d grabbed my hand just before …"
His jaw twitches as the blame settles in again, and you would do fucking anything to finally make him understand that none of this is his fault. That you should be in pain for what you’re putting him through.
"It should’ve been me," you tell him, because it’s true.
Even earlier in the week, you would’ve taken great delight in seeing Bucky Barnes’ face fall at something you’d said. Hell, you’d have probably enjoyed it on Thursday, because there used to be this easy sort of gratification that came from riling him up, from catching him off guard.
Seeing it now, though?
It makes your fingers twitch.
"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."
"I’m not joking." You can feel your pulse in your ears. "They aimed a shot at me, and you pushed me out of the way, and you died. So by all accounts, if your instincts weren’t so damn noble all the time, it should’ve been me, and if I weren’t such a fucking coward, I’d have gone back and switched places with you weeks ago."
The thought terrifies you, even though it’s true. No part of you wants to go through the things Bucky is, but if someone gave you the choice between either one of you right now, you wouldn’t even have to think about it.
Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe.
"I’d like to see you try," Bucky says, and something slams into your chest as an old familiar shiver runs down your spine.
There’s a pained edge to his gaze, contemplative and heartbreaking and …
"You’re doing it again," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
"What am I doing?" His hand brushes your knee, and your skin is left searing.
You swallow heavily. "Being noble."
Bucky chuckles softly, and his eyes leave yours for just a moment. "Don’t exactly feel like that."
He’s beautiful.
It’s a new thought, despite everything. Even when you’ve noticed it before, you’d roll your eyes at the fact and move on, because this was Bucky. So what if his face was delectably handsome?
But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real?
So it’s pure instinct that makes you move, like someone would pinch themselves to ensure they’re not asleep, even though you’re very aware that this isn’t just a dream. You need to confirm that Bucky is real, though.
The air stands still when your fingertips trace along his cheekbone, leaving a delicate flush behind in their trail, barely touching and yet …
And yet.
His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either.
There’s a scraping sound at the closed bathroom door, followed by a short knock. You flinch backwards.
"I’m leaving the first aid kit on the bed," Sam calls from the other side. "Just … holler if you need me."
"Thanks, Sam," Bucky says coarsely, and you can hear steps receding. The scratching continues, though. That damn cat.
Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.
"Do you want me to help you clean up?"
You shake your head. You’re not sure you could stomach more of this. "I’m good, don’t … Don’t worry about it."
Bucky drags a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself you can’t quite make out. Slowly, he gets to his feet again.
"We need to come up with a plan," he says, and you want to cry except … you’re tired. Tired and sick of this.
"I need to come up with a plan," you correct him. "We have been trying to do this as a team for weeks, and it doesn’t change anything except waste time and …" And hurt. "I can’t do it anymore, Buck."
There must be something in your voice that thaws his defiant glare a little. "So what’s the plan?"
And with a sigh, you fill him in on everything that’s been going on with Strange and your powers. Again. One last time.
You have to do this alone.
Bucky ignores your insistence that you can manage just fine and sets your wrist while you talk. Alpine, now free to roam wherever she pleases again, has decided the bathroom isn’t quite that interesting after a short look inside, and is now taking a nap in the spot of sunshine next to your bed.
"New deal," he says once you’re done, once he’s thought about it all, and you raise your eyebrows. "Don’t do anything stupid."
"You know me," you smile, checking the makeshift dressing around your hand. The green symbols are hidden by the layers of gauze.
Bucky doesn’t bite. "I’m serious, just—don’t."
"How would you know?"
"I wouldn’t," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut so vehemently Alpine’s tail twitches. "But I trust you."
Your head whips up at his words, even though his back is still turned to you. He doesn’t see your face as your heart is jostled into a new rhythm, so violently and unexpectedly that you lift your hand without thinking, pinkie outstretched.
"Promise."
He smiles when he notices, and you wish you could take a picture to carry with you through the rest of this nightmare.
That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though.
***
There’s been a change in the weather.
Not literally, no; of course not literally. Fuck, you long for a single cloud, a raindrop, a damn hailstorm to break the streak of endless perfectly sunny days that don’t fit your mood in the slightest.
But there’s a tinge to the sky that makes your stomach turn. It’s not very obvious to anyone who hasn’t looked at the exact same sunset for weeks on end, just a single strip of color across a storybook horizon. It looks like a crack.
"Do you see that?" you ask warily when you notice it for the first time, ominous and yet almost completely hidden by the trees and the buildings. Just dancing around the edge of your vision like another mockery.
"What?" Sam asks, eyes not leaving the path ahead.
"That … thing in the sky. What is that?"
Bucky stops and squints at where you’re pointing. "It’s called a cloud," he says dryly.
"With that color?" you murmur, but continue walking when he stops to turn to you, your wrist tingling. His stare is searing your neck, but you ignore that, too.
The best course of action, you’ve learned, is to shut your brain off as soon as you get out of the quinjet and just go through the motions, trying to ride out the mission like you’ve done dozens of times before. There’s a sort of autopilot you’ve fallen into after a couple of days, and it’s the only thing keeping you somewhat sane. Most days, it means it’s all over quickly, and you can’t help but feel glad about that.
You’ve given up trying to change your own actions to get him through the day.
But this …
It’s something new, and in all this monotony, that thought is both frightening and exciting. It distracts you enough to get you off script.
"Lovely interior design," Sam mumbles like he always does.
"Remember how this was supposed to be a day off?" You kick one of the pebbles in your path with a sigh. "What happened to 'don’t worry, Y/N, after training the day is all yours'?"
"Occupational hazard," Sam says, checking his map for the thousandth time.
"You know what I mean."
"Don’t you have tomorrow off?" Bucky says over the intercom.
Tomorrow. "Right." It comes out somewhat strained, your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. "And why do you know that?"
Sam shakes his head and there’s a brief crackle of static in your ear. For a fraction of a second, you nearly dare to hope Bucky will give you an answer, even though you have no clue what it would be.
"They’re heading your way now," he says instead, "so get a move on."
And just like that, you’re back on track.
Quickly clearing your throat of the lump that has formed there, you say tonelessly, "I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again."
It’s taken you a while to get used to it. To the constant lying.
You’ve worn fingerless gloves on missions before, so that’s not raised any questions from the others yet, and your rings stay hidden away. You’ve been more reluctant to take them off since the one you lost on your bathroom floor vanished into thin air.
The other thing you’ve picked up on while endlessly repeating this day is that Bucky is less likely to catch you in a lie if he can’t see your face.
So you’ve made an effort of spending as little time as possible with him.
It’s surprisingly easy to stay in your room for the majority of the day, because he doesn’t remember it ever being any other way. Even today’s little exchange will be lost to the loop soon enough, just like that little pause he made, just like the bullet through his heart.
Still, when you wake up with a start on Friday, July 4th, you look at the sky first. Its perfect blue doesn’t soothe the sinking feeling in your stomach at all.
You’ve been waiting for something to change for weeks, and now that it’s here, you don’t like it at all.
"What did you expect?" Strange says with an infuriating composure once you’ve nervously recounted your experience. "I told you, time isn’t supposed to get stuck in this way. Of course your reality was going to act up sooner or later."
"I really feel like you should be more concerned about this," you mutter, letting a ball of green energy pass from your left hand to the right. It’s about the size of a quarter now.
"Honestly," Strange answers, "I thought something like this would have happened a while ago." He taps his fingers together. "Again. Slower."
"So what am I supposed to do then, just ignore it?" The green ball pulses with your indignation, turns around itself once and then sinks into your palm again.
"In all likelihood, it’s a one time glitch. If everything is back to normal today, I wouldn’t worry about it."
Your thumb rubs across the empty space on your finger. "Easy for you to say if you’re not the one who’s stuck in an endless hellscape."
"Aren’t I?"
You both roll your eyes at each other, but then you bite the inside of your cheek again, unable to shake the feeling of a whole new shade of dread. "What if it’s not just a one time glitch?"
The corners of Strange’s cloak roll up on themselves, and he doesn’t meet your eye when he says, "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."
It’s still early when you return to the present, too early for Bucky to be back from wherever he’s always going, so you decide to venture out of your room again, stretching your tired limbs. You’re pretty sure at this point that waking up on the floor is never going to feel fun.
Sam is in the kitchen as always, reading something on his laptop. He’s still sitting down, which means that it’s even earlier than you expected. You miss these early parts of the day, the calm before the storm.
If today were only made up of these few hours, you suppose, it might not be half so bad.
You pull up a chair next to him and lean a cheek against your hand. "What’re you doing?"
"Research." Sam sighs, rubbing his temples. "Remember that ULTIMATUM group?"
"Never heard of them," you say with a small yawn. "Is that an acronym? What does it stand for?"
Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.
"Anyway," he continues, turning his laptop so you can see the article he’s reading. "They’ve been more active again lately. Acquired a couple thousand dollars’ worth of lab equipment through one of their contacts and then went underground again."
Of course, you know all this. You’ve been over it again and again, back when you were all still trading information like it could save Bucky’s life. Like there was a deeper meaning behind any of this damn loop other than the fact that you, and you alone, fucked up.
Useless.
You close the mental door on those thoughts and take a deep breath. You hate to admit it, but all of this sitting around with your thoughts bullshit you’ve been doing has actually helped you to clear your head somewhat—if only to make it through the parts of the day you can’t avoid.
"And now what?" you ask, pretending to just have reacquainted yourself with the topic.
"Now," Sam says, taking his laptop with him as he stands up and strolls over to the kitchen island, "I’m waiting for Torres to get back to me so we can decide our next steps once we’re all recovered." He gives you a meaningful look and you scowl.
Then, slowly, his words register in your brain, and you stare at his back as he stretches and then moves to make some coffee, wordlessly taking one of your mugs out of the cupboard as well as his own.
"You don’t seem too worried," you say hesitantly.
Sam shrugs. "Until we have a proper lead, there’s not much we can do. And I doubt they’ll be doing any actual damage any time soon. They’re a lot more covert than the Flag Smashers ever were."
"Right," you say, more to yourself than in response.
"Try that again, less convincing?"
"I don’t know," you mutter, slowly following him to lean against the fridge. "Just … what if Torres did find something? Should I be getting ready?"
Sam frowns. "Are you not telling me something again?"
You try to shake the thought, pulling your arms around you. "Forget it."
You don’t, though.
It keeps bugging you, because that day like any other day, he knocks on your door at 4:32 on the dot, and you go on that mission anyway. And even though this has been happening for weeks, you’re just starting to suspect that you are, in fact, still not getting the whole picture.
***
Catching a glimpse of Sam’s phone turns out to be more difficult than you first thought.
You’re still trying to get the timing exactly right a couple of days later, and you miscalculate enough to catch Bucky on his way upstairs.
"Hey," he says, his shoulders tense when he looks at you. There’s a restlessness to him that he’s not quick enough to hide; or maybe you’ve just grown more perceptive when it comes to him.
"Hi," you say, crossing your hands behind your back. "Where’ve you been?"
He shrugs. "For a walk."
You already know he won’t elaborate if you try poking, so you don’t. "Was it good?"
"Lotta people." He hesitates when you continue to not meet his eye, and then he says, "Do you want to talk about it?"
You swallow, ignoring the tingling sensation on your wrist. "Not particularly. Do you?"
Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."
Somehow, you feel like that’s also a lie. Once again, you’re left wondering.
The silence between you stretches as you continue to not quite look at each other, until you finally clear your throat, nodding at the front door. "I’m getting coffee, do you want something?"
Honestly, it’s just an excuse as to why you need to leave before he notices something off again somehow, but Bucky tilts his head in amusement.
"Didn’t you just get some this morning?"
"So? I like coffee."
"Really. I never knew."
"Screw you."
You can hear him huff behind you, but thankfully the door falls shut before you can do anything stupid. Like turning around to face him, for example.
You miss his eyes.
Why won’t you look at me?
When the elevator doors open, you almost yelp into your delivery guy’s face. He stumbles a half-step backwards, somehow managing to keep a hold of the boxes precariously balanced on his arm while he’s reading something on his phone.
"Oh my god," he lets out, "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just …"
"Early." You blink.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing," you say, frowning only a little. "Wait, let me get that."
You quickly sign for the delivery and open the door with your keycard, holding it open for him. You’re not exactly afraid of burglars these days, and besides; you know this guy by now.
"If you could just go straight ahead and to the right, that’s where the kitchen is."
"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"
His mouth snaps shut and he blushes a little as if he wanted to say something else but thought better of it.
You’ve introduced him to Sam enough times you know he’s going to be fine, so you just smile and wave him in.
When you step out on the street, you instinctually look up at the sky. It’s outrageously blue, blatantly perfect for an endless Friday, and even when you squint, you can’t make out any irregularities.
It’s a tiny relief, but a relief nontheless.
Lucy is leaning against the wall just out of sight of the storefront, an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips as she rummages through her pockets. Her colorful makeup has begun to melt off in the sweltering heat, making the red-white-and-blue stars on her cheeks bleed into each other to look somewhat purplish.
"Are you off or on break?" you call over.
She lifts her head, the glare vanishing when she recognizes you. "Counting the seconds," she says. "Don’t you have anything better to do?"
You sidestep a couple of pedestrians hurrying to cross the street and join her. "Not really."
"I hate you." She finally fishes a lighter out of her back pocket, sighing contentedly as she takes her first drag. "I swear, this day just won’t pass."
Fine. Maybe your chuckle is a little shrill. "I’m sorry."
Lucy waves you off with a gesture crude enough to make a young dad with a stroller send the two of you a dirty look. "You without your shadow today?" she asks, inspecting her nails.
You blink. "My shadow."
"You know. Your friend who’s been in here eight thousand times and still gets confused when he orders." A cloud of smoke vanishes into thin air. "Kind of the lingering type, isn’t he?"
"He’s old," you say, because for some reason nothing else comes to mind.
"Not that old."
"No," you agree, "not that old."
For a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to ask you to pass her number along to him, and you’re already scrambling to find an answer somewhere in the depths of your brain, coming up empty. That’s the problem with being able to unhave entire conversations; you don’t usually really have to deal with reactions if you don’t want to.
Without your powers, though, you’re stuck, and it’s making you wish you hadn’t come here at all.
Instead of any of that, she pulls a flyer out of her other pocket. "Sorin and Cass are doing a gig in Brooklyn next week, do you wanna come with? They’re still terrible, but they got a new bassist who seems alright."
You take the flyer, staring at it. "I didn’t know they’re in a band," you admit.
The truth is, you’ve never paid that much close attention to the people you work with. Maybe that’s been a mistake.
Lucy shrugs. "You’re always doing your own thing." It stings, even though you’re pretty sure she doesn’t mean for it to. "It’d be fun if you came, though."
"I’ll think about it," you say, and your smile is a little unsure, but genuine.
So is hers.
"If you don’t want to hang with us all night, you can bring some friends, too." Her emphasis hangs in the air between you like a dare.
You snort. "I feel like this isn’t quite their scene."
"You feel like or you know?"
"Isn’t that the same thing?"
"No." She puts her cigarette out on the wall behind her. "Knowledge is based on experience. On memories. Your feelings don’t sit in your head. And so they don’t make sense and they’re not necessarily true." She winks.
"You’re weirdly smart," you say, shaking your head.
"I know. It’s a curse." Lucy sighs. "Anyway, think about it. I gotta get back to hell."
"You know," you say with a grin, "I could really do with a frappuccino right about now."
"You know what you could do?" she answers in her sweetest customer service voice, pointing you down the street. "Get in a trash can."
Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.
She taps her fingers against her temple and then shuffles back inside, a hot rush of air blowing out of the AC as the door opens. You fold the flyer up to fit into your back pocket, hoping you’ll make it to that concert one day, and then you walk on, aimless again for the moment.
***
Time passes while it’s standing still.
The problem is, at least for the moment, that by all appearances you’ve reverted back to square one. Going through your day as though any of this is even remotely normal, counting the hours and minutes to reenter the astral plane and feel some semblance of control again.
It’s been nice, really, if you’re ignoring the constant underlying feeling of dread.
Which you’re getting better at.
You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.
Rinse and repeat.
You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.
Even on days when you’re sure you’re making progress with your powers, every reset makes it just a little harder to keep dragging yourself onwards.
You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.
"You look like shit."
Your head rolls to the side slowly, allowing yourself a glance while Bucky is still distracted with his arm. Concentration makes his brows knit, and something warm spreads in your chest.
"I’m so tired," you say, voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t look at you, but you’re grateful for it for once. Your eyes are stinging a little.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Yes. Yes. Yes.
"Not particularly."
"Do you want to talk about something else?"
You almost smile. "Like what?"
Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. "Like the fact that you just planted Sam into the mat head-first and yet made a face like you killed a puppy?"
Sometimes you wonder how he still manages to slip in without you noticing, no matter how many times he does it.
"Did I?"
"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."
Your body’s been getting stronger, anticipating Sam’s every move. At this point, it’s not so much training as it is an exercise in muscle memory; but how would he know that?
It still isn’t enough. It’s never enough.
You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.
"You’re doing it again," Bucky says and you blink.
"Doing what?"
"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."
Something inside you twinges uncomfortably and you wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them into your chest. "That might just be me, period."
Bucky huffs. "Take the towel on the right," he says. "I already used the other one."
So you do.
And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with blah, blah, blah.
"I can’t do this anymore."
Strange watches you, but you don’t get up from where you’re lying, blankly staring at the ceiling, feeling like your chest is about to explode.
You don’t want to feel like something is tearing you apart every single time, even though you know it’s not permanent. There’s always the tiniest glimmer of hope that this will all be over soon.
Or maybe it’s dread.
"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.
You blink, sitting upright. "What?"
"Maybe you are actually incapable of cleaning up your own mess. You’ve never had any training before, after all. Maybe you’re too weak."
Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.
"If this is reverse psychology, it’s not working," you say through gritted teeth, pressing your eyes shut so tightly they don’t burn anymore.
Strange ignores you. "Maybe you’re going to be stuck in this loop forever. If that’s the case, there’s no point to keep trying either. Maybe we should just call it a day."
You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.
"Maybe you’re just going to keep failing to save anyone for the rest of your life."
"Stop it!"
An explosion of power goes through your body, bouncing off the walls and bathing the room in a ghostly green light. You cough and curl into yourself as you watch it billow, still echoing the words back at you, "too weak", "stuck in this loop forever". Your bones are heavy with exhaustion.
Strange crouches down next to you and a cup of fragrant tea draws itself up to the side of your face.
"You’re drawing the bulk of your power from pain. From a desire to fix things that you think you alone are responsible for when the truth is that each and every one of us is constantly creating reality."
"Fuck you," you mumble. When you sit up, your head is still swimming.
"You cannot keep this up."
"If I’m such a lost case, then why do you bother?"
"I’m trying to tell you that you’re not." He points at the walls, still covered by that greenish fog. "This is the strongest display of your powers I’ve seen from you yet, and it only happened because you were lashing out. Pain is not a sustainable source of energy. Imagine what you could do if you could be in control."
Do as I tell you.
"There’s no way to control my powers on a larger scale. It’s impossible."
"You keep telling me that, and yet you keep coming back. Why?"
You push yourself up to your elbows, wiping at your face. "Because I have to hope, right?"
"And there it is."
You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders.
The wizard himself stays quiet for another minute or two, before he asks, "Why do you think I’m talking to you right now? Helping you, even, nevermind your constant whining and your insistence that this won’t work, after you’ve spent your whole life running away from anything resembling actual responsibilities."
"I didn’t—"
"Answer the question."
"Because I created a time loop?" you guess.
"But you already know that this loop is just one point on the timeline. A single day, repeated endlessly, but going exactly like it was always supposed to, once resolved. So, without the time stone and my privileges as the Sorcerer Supreme, and with your protections still in place, how would I have found you?"
He knew exactly where and when to look for you. But he’s right, that shouldn’t even have been possible unless …
"I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"
"Of course there is," he says, surprisingly gently. "Time isn’t supposed to get stuck."
You sit with that for a minute, hiding your face in your hands as Strange stays silent. Finally, you take a deep breath and look at him again with newly sharp focus.
"So why don’t you just tell me how to do it?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You know that’s not how it works."
"Yes. It is. It’s literally what I do all the time."
"What you do is leaving realities you don’t like by turning backwards."
"That’s not true."
"Just because your motivations aren’t entirely selfish doesn’t mean you’re right."
You’re so damn exhausted. The frustration of this whole thing is really starting to scratch at your sanity, and there’s an ache in your chest as you stare at your own sleeping face, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking.
Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.
"I’m not a mind reader," he says. "Out with it."
"I want to see him," you say, getting up. The cloak flaps around you in a very satisfying way. "Bucky. It’s early this morning, right? Just before the loop starts again. That means he’s upstairs."
"And what’s seeing him going to do?"
You ignore him and walk towards the door, reaching for the handle. Your hand goes right through it. You try it several more times, to no avail.
"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.
Shutting your eyes, you take a deep breath. The circle of green tingles around your wrist.
Then, you walk through the closed door.
You fully expect to crash into the wood head first, but instead you feel the door moving through your noncorporeal form, and then you’re standing on the other side.
With a startled hum, you turn left, not waiting to see if you’re being followed.
You only hesitate in front of Bucky’s bedroom door. You’ve never actually been inside his room since he’s moved in; well, apart from that time he patched up your feet and you woke up in the astral plane for the first time. It feels odd to consider entering without him actually being aware of it.
Then again, there’s quite a few things at this point that he’s unaware of.
Before you can make up your mind, the door swings open just a little, and you automatically take a step back. Alpine sleepily slinks through the gap and trots off in the direction you came from, probably to sit in the kitchen and mope until FRIDAY activates the food dispenser again. On the stairs, she passes Strange who raises an eyebrow at you.
"Changed your mind?"
You glance into the room.
At first, you can’t find him. The bedding looks untouched, and there’s a brief flurry of panic that makes you step inside before you can keep questioning yourself.
Bucky is lying on the floor next to the bed, his hands balled tightly into an old throw blanket. It’s haphazardly draped across his torso, like he’s been trying to wriggle free during the night. He grimaces in his sleep.
Try the floor.
You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed.
"Can he hear us?" you ask quietly, not needing to look over your shoulder as you sink to the floor next to Bucky.
"No," Strange says. "Not until you put in a lot more work."
"Would he remember if I did?"
"I don’t know."
You do look back at him, then. "You know, considering your position you don’t know a whole lot of things."
You concentrate on your own hand until you’re starting to feel cool metal underneath your fingertips, ignoring the throbbing of your head. Carefully, you touch the crease between his brows, smoothing it out tenderly.
Bucky sighs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. Doesn’t stop quietly murmuring in his dreams.
"You feel better?" Strange asks.
"Not really." You’ve already reached out to him without it having any repercussions too many times. "But that wasn’t the point."
"What was?"
"Just …"
Comfort. He brings you comfort, even when he doesn’t know it. It’s the same reason you keep waiting for him to arrive in the gym in the mornings, even though you could probably hurry up and miss him.
Even if the loop never ends, it’s still good to see that it’s bringing him back like it’s supposed to.
How incredibly selfish, you think as you continue looking at Bucky and letting a quiet, hesitant wash of calm come over you.
And then, all of a sudden, his eyes open.
You flinch backwards, but even though you’re almost face to face, he seems to stare right through you, his breaths heavy.
"Did I do something?" you say quietly.
"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up."
You watch as Bucky drags a hand over his face and then gets up with a determined tick in his jaw, grabbing a notebook from the nightstand. He scribbles something down, hastily, like it’s threatening to get away from him if he doesn’t hurry. You don’t have to read it to know it has something to do with what he’s seen in his sleep.
When the words stop flowing, he sits on the edge of the bed for a minute longer, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders. Finally, he rolls his left arm a few times before pulling on a shirt and his running shoes.
He always goes for a run in the morning. You’ve made fun of him for it before, but you hadn’t put together that while Strange was trying to get you to clear your own head through sitting still, Bucky might be doing the exact opposite to get the same result.
The door clicks shut.
"Are we done with the spying, then?" Strange says.
"No need to get weird about it," you mumble and take his outstretched hand.
***
Something changes once you know that your situation actually has an end date, even though Strange either cannot or will not tell you how many more loops you’re going to have to go through until then. Even so, there’s a new assurance to your every step again, a determination grown from the knowledge that all this isn’t for nothing. That there is an out.
You can cling to that.
"What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?" you ask, letting your legs dangle over the ledge of the roof.
"Ew, no," Lucy replies, shaking the few remaining ice cubes in her cup emphatically. "My shift was long enough as is, and I’ve been looking forward to my Sunday off all week."
"Fair point," you concede.
It’s early afternoon then, and you’ve found a quiet spot on the top of the Tower. If Lucy was at all confused why you’d shown up at the store right when she clocked out and asked her to hang out, she’s not showing it. Over the past couple of loops, you’ve learned that she really likes to go with the flow, and you appreciate that.
"If it’s not today, though," she continues, like she’s thinking aloud. "Imagine the books you could read. You could try out all that stuff that you say you want to do, and then you never have the time to actually do them."
It’s a good thought, but a lack of time has never really been an issue for you. "Nothing you do would really stick, though."
She squints against the sun. "You realize that’s a pro, right? No consequences whatsoever. I could cut my bangs again and they’d be gone the next day."
"You used to have bangs?"
"Never, and I’m willing to state that in a court of law."
You smile and lean back on your elbows. "If something good happened, that’d be gone, too, though. You don’t get to keep that, either."
"Yeah," Lucy says thoughtfully. "I’d still remember it though, right? It still happened. I could make it happen again."
"Maybe." Your thumb scratches the empty space on your pinkie. Even though you’ve turned your entire bathroom upside down, your ring is still gone, like it just up and disappeared from this reality. You can’t help but wonder if that rift in the sky from a few todays ago has anything to do with that.
"What about you?"
"Hm?"
Lucy takes another slurping sip from her almost empty cup. "What would you do in a time loop?"
You can’t help but laugh. "I’d try to keep making the good things happen, I guess."
"Sounds like a lot of work."
It is.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" someone shouts behind you. "It’s in the fricking nineties today and you’re baking?"
"Technically, we are baking," you say, nodding at Lucy and leaning back further so you can look at Sam upside down. "And we’re baking for you."
"Hi, cap," Lucy says, pulling her sunglasses off.
"Hey." Sam crosses his arms and fixes you with a very cap-like glare. "Why are you baking for me."
"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."
"My—" He cuts himself off, rubbing his temples. "My birthday’s in September."
"Whoops," you say, your grin just believable enough. "My bad, cap."
"You’re not funny," Sam says, "I hope you know that."
You know.
Of course, today isn’t actually his birthday, not even if time were allowed to pass normally. It is day forty-fucking-nine of the loop, though, which makes it your fiftieth time living through this crap and frankly, you all deserve some damn pie.
It’s not going to make a difference in the long run, of course, and yet you can’t help but feel like keeping count of those little markers of time helps to hold your head above water. Making the good things happen, even if they don’t change a thing and no one but you is going to remember.
So you simply say, "It’s turtle pie," because you know that it’s Sam’s favorite. "Hey, what’s the time?"
"Oh, it better be," he says, holding his phone up for you to read and then marching out of your field of vision.
Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.
"He could’ve stayed," Lucy says when you let out a frustrated huff.
"He has that thing at the Garden," you tell her distractedly, taking a mental note to stall Sam a little longer next time.
"There you are."
You flinch at the sound of Bucky’s voice, barely daring to move your head when he sits next to you, his back to the brink.
He never comes up here. That’s the whole point.
"Hi?" you say carefully, and a grin tugs at his mouth.
"Not you," he says, nodding to the ground in front of him.
You turn around fully to find Alpine taking a nap just a few feet behind you, her snowy tail wrapped around a flower pot.
You let out a relieved breath and ignore the small sting in your chest. Of course he’s not up here because of you. Why would he be?
"Gee, thanks," you murmur, quietly shifting around so your hands are hidden underneath your legs. "You sure know how to charm the ladies."
You glance back at Lucy, but she’s looking at her phone, her eyes once again indecipherable behind the large sunglasses.
Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Think you could handle my charm, Y/L/N?"
He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes.
So you do what you always do and you block it out. Dismiss and distract.
"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"
He tilts his head, his jaw tight. "Weird how?"
"I don’t know," you say, staring at her. "She’s just been acting … odd, lately. Today, I mean."
And following you around in a way you’re pretty sure she’s never done before. Not before the loop, at least.
Bucky sighs. "Did you make her scratch you again? Because I’ve told you before that I’m not getting rid of her for enforcing her boundaries."
"First of all, I never make her scratch me, she does that well enough on her own."
"That’s victim blaming," Lucy says without looking up. Bucky snorts and you almost roll your eyes.
"Second of all, she’s up to something. I know it."
"Oh, yes," Bucky says dryly just as Alpine makes a small noise in her dreams, her nose twitching. "That’s the embodiment of evil right there."
"I don’t trust her," you mutter.
"And yet the cat’s the weird one."
"I hate you," you mumble, standing up. "I’m gonna go check on the pie."
"There’s pie?" Bucky says.
"Not for you!"
You turn at the door to see Lucy leaning in to show Bucky something on her phone; the frown has disappeared from his face, his shoulders relaxed. If he’d pull off his glove right now, it’d almost be like sitting in a park.
That’s good, you tell yourself as the door slams shut behind you with a bit too much gusto. Reminds you that there’s nothing special about you in particular, which is much needed, really.
Can’t wait to punch that one out of your system later.
Again and again and again and a—
"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"
You blink. Riff slumps to the ground in front of you, body limp.
Bucky stares at you in concern, his hand still on your shoulder. His lip has split open and there’s the usual bruise already forming on his cheekbone. You can’t help it. Your gaze is drawn down, your breathing shallow.
You screw your eyes shut to snap yourself out of it, but when you open them again, Bucky hasn’t moved an inch.
"Never better," you whisper, and for a split second, you almost believe it yourself.
Liar, liar, liar.
***
At least, you suppose, reality seems considerably less broken these days. No more cracks in the sky.
You get your wake-up call when you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY …
"… FRIDAY?" you say into the silence of your room, your heart pounding wildly. This cannot be happening. Not now.
Not yet.
He got shot again yesterday.
A pleasant jingling sound rings out. "Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N."
You look at the clock on the wall. Ten to eight, just like every morning. "What day is it?"
"Today is Friday, July 4th."
You can taste bile in your mouth despite your relief. There’s an impatient thrum to the symbols around your wrist, like a noose that’s tightening.
What did you expect?
"Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!"
"Didn’t you set FRIDAY to wake me?" you ask Sam as you’re climbing the stairs, nerves on edge.
He looks at you weirdly. "I did. You’re up, aren’t you?"
You bite the inside of your cheek. "Didn’t sleep well."
That much, at least, is still true. Full nights of sleep are a long distant memory from before constant back-to-back repetitions. The only time your body shuts off is when you manage to sleep for a little bit in between your astral visits and the mission call.
"I hope you don’t think that’s an excuse," Sam says, bumping your shoulder, and you manage a tired grin.
"You wish."
Today, you let him win, even though your ankle makes an odd crack when you land on the mat. You’ll take care of it later.
"You look like shit."
Grief and relief, you’ve learned, both taste like salt and iron, but the latter is so much easier to swallow.
"That makes two of us," you say, sitting up slowly. "How was your run?"
"Good," Bucky says, putting the cloth away and stretching his fingers out. They catch a ray of sunlight. "What’s wrong with you?"
Not this again.
"Later, okay?" you answer, because that’s not a lie. "Let’s just … not, right now?"
"Alright," he says.
And, oh, you want to tell him again. Because he doesn’t press it. Because you miss having someone to share things with. Because you miss telling him the whole truth. Because you’re scared, and tired, and sick of losing him.
But those are egotistic thoughts, and so you keep them all to yourself and take the towel on the right.
There’s one good thing about this today. You make it to the living room just in time to finally catch a glimpse of Sam’s phone right when it pings with Torres’ message.
I can check it out on Monday if you’d like.
That’s it. No urgency, weirdly proper spelling, not even an exclamation mark.
In other words, you’re not sure what you expected but you’re no closer to answers than before.
"What does it matter?" Strange sighs when you tell him all of this with a frown.
"It matters," you reply, "because if we hadn’t gone on the mission, Bucky wouldn’t have died that first time and none of this would’ve happened."
"So what?" he says. "It’s already done."
"But if I could prevent it—"
"It already happened."
"I can make it not happen."
"You and what powers?" Strange says sharply. "Even if you did that, it wouldn’t stop the loop."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you’ve already seen first-hand that it’s bound to you and your powers, not to whatever you do or don’t do during the day. Karma is a fairy tale for those who don’t want to take responsibility for their actions."
"Do you really still think this is me not taking responsibility?" There’s a green flare that goes through you, hot and seething and making goosebumps crawl down your arms.
Strange smiles at the sight. "Let’s find out."
He extends his arms and slowly opens his fists until orange symbols dance across his shaky fingers. The band around your wrist prickles at the weight of his magic flooding the air.
Strange’s cloak nudges you towards the center of the room and your heart gives a heavy thud. "What, right now?"
"Would you prefer being stuck for a couple weeks more?"
"Of course not it’s just—I don’t feel ready."
"No one ever feels ready until they try."
And maybe it’s because it reminds you of something Steve once said, but it makes you step up, falling into the stance you’ve practiced over and over again. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes.
The pull comes easier now. Your powers have just been resting, nestled somewhere deep inside your bones like glowing embers, waiting for you to call upon them.
When you look at your open palm, the green wisps of your powers have curled up to the size of a ping-pong ball. You take another steadying breath and let it glide to the tips of your fingers, carefully letting it balance itself out for a second before moving your other hand.
"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.
Slowly, carefully, you let the threads untangle until they’re just about to touch the green band circling around your wrist. You can feel the electric tingle of it, the soft beat of each passing second contained within, and you push past it.
You’ve done this before, so you’re not surprised when you feel the energy drain from your body almost immediately. Up until now, though, it’s just been trial and error, not expecting anything to happen. This time, you have Strange’s magic feeding some of his strength into you as well, and so instead of hesitating, you press on, your heartbeat speeding up.
The band around your wrist does the same.
"Don’t lose your focus." Strange’s voice sounds very far away, almost warped.
Very funny, you might have said, but you’re too busy watching it all unfold.
The whirring inside of your head grows louder as the circlet of time keeps rotating with accelerating speed, faster and faster until your eyes start tearing up and there’s something that looks almost like a crack.
You gasp quietly. At first, you think you might have just imagined it, but then the split starts growing, the symbols growing farther and farther apart as the band itself keeps spinning. Your pulse is beating in your ears. Your wrist feels like it’s being set on fire.
There are voices, then, quiet and fast, like you’re watching a sped up movie, music and noises and chatter and birdsong and a whooshing sound like something flipping right past you. Then, something like distant shots.
I’m getting Bucky out of this, you think as the green band continues rotating until suddenly, there is a shockwave of green light that takes up your entire field of vision.
You close your stinging eyes, keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor as your powers rush through you once more and then, with a shudder, settle down again, exhausted. The glare subsides. Something like a trickle of sweat runs down your noncorporeal neck.
"Did it work?" you ask, your voice rough, not daring to look for yourself. There’s no answer, though. "Doc?"
Slowly, your eyes readjust to the gloomy darkness of your room in the astral realm. The only source of light is the glowing green band continuing to circle around your wrist, the rifts stabilizing again like it’s clicking back into place.
You swear under your breath and turn around to ask what went wrong, but Strange is no longer standing beside you.
You’re all alone.
***
Three, two, one—
"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"
You catch the plastic cup before it drops onto the suit of the business man standing in line in front of you. "Here you go, sir."
He grabs his drink with a grunt and hurries back outside. One of these days, you might ask him why he’s in such a hurry, but it’s not today.
You’ve grown to adore the noise of the pre-noon rush. The cacophany of the whirring machines, the AC and the people is just loud enough to make your head calm down a little. Besides, being alone in a crowd has never been easier than when you know for a fact they are not going to remember you.
The drinks are starting to pile up at the hand-out, and because you feel bad for your colleagues, you start handing them out to people. You’ve been here a lot, after all.
"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"
Plus, it helps to keep your mind from wandering back to everything that’s going wrong.
Strange still hasn’t returned.
The astral dimension feels different when you return the day after your experiment, like someone’s been pulling invisible strings to make everything just slightly more disordered and dark.
It’s cold, too. You watch your body shiver in her sleep as you wrap your arms around yourself. The books are still there, shimmering slightly with the magic they contain.
"Doc?" you call out, and the vibrations of this place hum it back at you. There’s no answer.
The book at the top of the pile is still opened to a page, as if it’d just been left a moment ago, and you pick it up. The words glide around like they are looking to jump back into an inkpot, and you have to squint to make out any of them.
Incursion, the section header reads. Result of a contraction in a universe’s timeline. Can cause premature disintegration or collapse of any one reality within the multiverse.
"Just great," you say, slapping the book shut again. "I get it, alright? You can come out now."
But there’s no sound apart from your own heartbeat.
Your noncorporeal head is swimming with pressure as you pass through the closed door and into the hallway. The walls seem larger than usual, the stairs warping ever so slightly underneath your feet so that you can’t look at them for too long without feeling seasick.
Upstairs, the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. The silence follows you, though, lingering in the grayish morning shadows like the remnants of a nightmare.
Bucky still mumbles in his.
You can’t make out what he is saying, and you wouldn’t have understood the words, anyway, but there’s sweat on his brow again. His fingers are tightly clutching the thin throw blanket like it’s shielding him from whatever he’s seeing in his dreams.
You take a step closer to him, desperate to do something, anything, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye.
Alpine is perched on top of the bed, complacently tucked into herself on one of the fluffed up white pillows like it’s really her room, not Bucky’s.
And she’s staring right at you.
You take a step to the side, then another. Alpine tilts her head, her large eyes fixed on you. They follow your gestures as you wave your hand.
A quick glance tells you that Bucky is still sleeping. You take a deep breath and conjure up a small dot of bright green light, letting it dance across your fingertips. Alpine uncurls herself in interest, her tail twitching.
"You can see me," you whisper, and the little spec of your power disappears.
The cat meows in disappointment.
Carefully, you move closer to the bed, reaching out your translucent hand until you place it on Alpine’s head.
She rubs against your palm.
You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."
Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.
This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.
So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.
And then you wait until he gets up.
It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.
It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.
Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.
In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.
You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.
Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.
But what else can you do?
You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him.
That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.
Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.
Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.
That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.
The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.
Nothing else will.
There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.
"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.
"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.
If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—
"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"
You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.
You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.
Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."
You smile. "Good for you."
"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"
And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"
You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.
The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.
"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"
And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.
*****
"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.
"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.
"Not at all."
Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.
You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.
"Are you gonna move any time soon?"
Well. Mostly.
At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.
With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.
You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.
It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.
While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.
Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.
"You almost done in here?"
"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"
Bucky pointed over his shoulder.
"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.
Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"
"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"
"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.
"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.
You didn’t even make it to the staircase.
"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"
No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.
You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.
"What?" Bucky said.
"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.
"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.
Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.
You should’ve eaten more.
As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.
You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.
Not good enough.
Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.
A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.
It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.
Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.
"—d’you—see that—"
"—could’ve—sworn there—”
And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.
chapter seven
thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes series#marvel fanfic#mcu fanfic#time after time
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WTF?! AKA girl that studied Advertising doesn't understand how this happened.
Sooooo, Neil Gaiman, huh?
Disclosure: I started this in the following 2 weeks after the news broke (maybe earlier than that, I don't remember) but, hey, my job sucks and more often than not my brain was just too dead to even try and get back to this. And then even more claims appeared and Vera Wylde (AKA Council of Geeks) made 2 videos that pretty much alligned with my mindset (fun fact: now there are 3 videos now), still I had a few points that I wanted to address... and life got inbetween yet again... and now I'm done, I need to finish this otherwise it'll sit on my drafts for ever.
Fandom's still ablaze, people asking for more info are inmediately labeled as "SA supporters" other alleged claims surfaced and I wonder why none of the companies associated with the author are saying a thing about it... not even him has stepped foward to say anything and that is super odd.
In case you didn't know I've studied Advertising but decided against following a career in it because 1) my classmates work-ethic (or lack of) traumatized me, 2) I never really liked it (I just wanted to live off my Creativity), 3) because after spending 3 years learning every little thing that can make a person tick to buy something I can see certain patterns everywhere and 4) it is far too easy to make anyone believe anything and the idea of doing it and screwing people's lives as a job does not fit my own moral criteria.
That being said, don't you dare to think that this post is taking any kind of side or that I'm trying to push my career because I already gave you those 4 points of why I am not activately working on this field. All of this will be a head-first delve into how those 3 years in College shaped my way of thinking (basically a "no feelings, just bussiness") and trying to have a somewhat broader picture.
I just have a perspective that most of the fandom doesn't have and I wanted to share it.
Just in case, I am not looking foward to whatever conversations could occur from now on and most likely won't interact with any of them if I sense any kind of bad blood.
Full disclousure: even though I am a casual enjoyer of Neil Gaiman's stories I have zero idea of how he is or was back in the day. Everything I say is based off on my observations both in-fandom and from what I can see from my country (Argentina) that is located at World's End quite literally... we don't get much gossip here unless is something BIG.
First off, lets clear some air:
1. Writing about horrible things doesn't mean that someone a bad person. I mean....
(Disclaimer: even if I do find the meme funny... I have 0 knowledge of anime or how this two artists interact with life and their fans).
But in all seriousness... how many crime shows exist/existed and will keep on existing? How many gory horror movies? How many books, comics, operas, musicals and so on that portray horrible crimes? Do all of those authors have a secret life as criminals? I don't think so.
Yes, having an affinity to the subject might give you a better know-how but is not mandatory... writers investigate a lot as well.
Art is meant to be an exploration and more often than not artists will take universal fears and turn them into something good and innocent or take something pure and turn it into a bloody nightmare... is supposed to show another perspective without any predjudice and allow us play with the weirdest and commonly frowned upon things in a safe and contained space.
If you are not an artist, you can still use the art as a conduit for this... but please don't turn into an Inquisitor, you're no better than us I swear.
2. If a person is anti-censorship... is against ANY kind of censorship. You can't pick and choose what should be "good" or "bad" because that is also a form of censorship. Are there disgusting things out there? Yes. Do any of us have the right moral compass to condemn and/or ban something just because? No. (And even if I'm not very well versed in manga I can tell the difference between a work of fiction that has been drawn and actual p*rn that could've been produced by harming someone. Those things are not on the same level. Sick? Yes, but still unreal just like a lot of the NSFW drawings that I've seen in here).
3. The Zionism: many people came after Gaiman accusing him of supporting Israel because of some letter that was signed right after the Hamas' attack. Siding with the civilian victims is always the first reaction even if as a jewish he is supposed to know better the reality of things, this is not mandatory because maybe he doesn't engage in religion or geopolitics that much. Later he did posted on Twitter (according to some) a few links to assist people in Palestine, I know he did shared one or two Instagram stories with this as well and of course, lately posted about a friend that got jailed for protesting against Israel. However many still support the "he is a Zionist" because he -as many others- said that the solution would be for both countries to live at peace. So... it was an easy neutral response trying not to cater to either side whether if it conveys his real sentiment or if he did it to secure his position among his followers or because he didn't wanted to upset someone he might know/work for that thinks different or didn't wanted to get into a polemic bigger than himself is up for debate.
OK Lets put the little grey cells to work
Many claims that started to populate Reddit (mostly) seem to go all the way back to the 90s where stuff like this wasn't talked about mostly because he was just another DC writer and social media + cellphones with camera didn't existed.
I do wonder how did he presented himself back then.
Even if Sandman was a huge success, both comics and mixing them up with greek mythology makes it very niche (niche is an official Advertising word, I swear). So even if DC properties like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and others were very well known and bought... I don't know how many of those readers jumped into Gaiman's Sandman and stick to it (I've even seen people in Tumblr complaining of "Gaiman's atrocity called Sandman") let alone how many thought of him as a genius.
Apparently he did had people showing up in signature events (were conventions a thing back then? I live in the other side of the world and have no idea) and apparently almost like a rock-star he had groupies following him. I am a rocker at heart, we all know about groupies but I really didn't needed to know that the literary kind existed as well, thank you very much.
There are two things I'd like to address here.
First of all that, given the nature of the movement, these girls were throwing themselves at him. It is still wrong to take advantage of it, but as we know men are needy AF so it only takes for one woman to be kind to them and they'll see how to get her to bed. Manly nature 🙄 That being said, considering that these were basically one-night-stands I don't think that he would've gone too far with any of them. Still...
The second point is... WHAT THE HELL WAS DC DOING? Probably many of you think "well, probably they are all perverts" and yeah, you have a point... but still you need to save face. You can't have one of your key writers (?) picking up girls in official events that you organized and take them to bed. Even with its ups and downs on the industry, DC had (and has) a prestige to keep. If we are thinking about late 1989 and early 90s they were riding the crest with Burton's Batman you can't have a scandal like this about to burst! It was just a matter of time till someone picked up on it and did something about it (think of a girl's family, group of friends, partner, what-have-you).
And even if Sandman was too niche it was still making good money for them... the possible movie rights were probably always in talks back then... and you'll risk that just because "men will be men"? WHAT KIND OF BUSSINESS DO YOU CONDUCT? Even if it is the 90's... you don't want to be associated with a sleaze bag. Not to mention that even with all of this he wasn't perceived as a "winner" among men as well... you know the type "oh, look how viril and manly he is... all the girls want him" kinda thing. So just why?
Did the publishers see it coming?
As I said the Reddit claims seem to be from the 90s (or at least from The Time With No Virtual Fingerprints) I've got yet to read anyone saying that he did a pass on them on a recent Comic-Con or book signing. (N: I started to write this before the third and fourth & fifth women came foward. However, the point sort of still stands)
This could be because 1) technology made it almost impossible to keep a secret or 2) because the publishers decided to open the umbrella before it started to rain.
If his reputation was well known it wouldn't surprise me that other companies might've put a clause in their contracts about his behaviour. Even we, working-class ants, have Codes of Conduct and Ethics in our mundane jobs... so OF COURSE this also exist in celebrities' contracts as well.
A publisher would never want to be involved into a scandal let alone a possible sex scandal with an author that doesn't just write "dark fantasies" but children's stories as well. You can't market a sexopath as a"kind and gentle uncle-like figure" that will read stories to your kids. I mean, with the right Ad team you can totally pull it off but it is A LOT EASIER if he just behaves.
Still you can't control a person's actions outside the professional enviroment AKA their personal life, and even if you must have a Ad team in case of any possible disturbance... they will focus more on the Company's Image than the person's.
In this case, Gaiman should have a personal Publicist. And for what I've seen I do think that he has a team but not necesarily a Publicist ready to tackle on a scandal, just a regular one that "gets him out there" and probably throws some ideas for posts and secures the Ads for any convention or media related project.
When you work with a public person you must work as Communitty Manager as well but the real trick is finding the right balance between your posts and your clients'.
The CM's posts will be very basic info for appearences in different events/media or new releases. What people really wants is a sneak-peak on a person's life and unless you are someone that is with them 24/7, it depends on this person's to do those posts (more often than not those who took those candid videos or photos are either friends/family or a super personal and close assitants). We do know that Gaiman has at least one assitant (plus representation for USA and UK, maybe someone else) how ever I have my doubts about him having a Publicist for his persona. Why would I say that?
Neil Gaiman has no socials
The joke has being going on for ages, regardless of how it was born it tells us that it is him who manages his own socials (at least the most "intimate" posts because with the whole Twitter/X/Xitter fiasco he did established that in that network he'll "be present" either by automated posts that depend on other socials or because someone who works for him will post tour dates on his behalf). The easiest one to pin point is Tumblr... nobody cares about Tumblr.
In light of all that has happened one of the most recent asks came to my mind: Someone once asked him if he was in a kink party some years back. Many rushed into explaining the Rules of Kink to the asker, some nicer than others but what stood out for me was... why answering this? Even with a "not really my thing, I left without participating" it was a lot easier to just leave it unanswered. He has stated that even if he had thousands of asks he'll pick a few of the newest ones and answer only if he thought they deserved to be answered. So why shooting yourself on the foot? Especially under the assumption that someone could say a thing or two about it. Like, fair enough whatever happens in there remains there... but if you are in it and you leave the door open with a half-assed answer... people will talk.
No Publicist in the world would've let that fly (not even in a niche site like Tumblr)... our job is to avoid this kind of loose threads that might be spun into something completely out of our control and opposite to the narrative we are aiming to.
Again...
Was he panicking about someone that saw him many years back in this gathering? Did he thought it gave him "cool points"? Did he thought that it was better to address it than letting the rumor running (and eventually die)? Was he half asleep and thought that he dreamt having answered and then forgot?
Why putting your neck on the noose?
Men 🤦🏻♀️
This little slip made me realize that he doesn't have a propper Publicist so the chances of them prepping some letter or statement about the situation are very slim. I'll talk about this later.
The Podcast
I can't really move foward without giving some space to Ground Zero.
But as I was writing this, Council of Geeks, (hosted by Vera Wylde, someone I've been following since long before their comming out and more often than not found to be very like-minded) a channel that I was hoping to tackle this, made a very well thought out video that I highly recommend. There are a few things for which I have my own hypotesis and if I remember, I'll write down in here.
Back to the first podcast I must admit that I did not listen to it because I have no time or will to do it (burnout from work is great!) and I am a better reader than a listener (my mind usually drifts off when I listen to anything even if I'm interested in it -doesn't happen with in person conversations, luckily probably because there is a face attached to the voice-). I did read several posts about it and the Rolling Stone article some cite as well. Aside from some personal observations, the core information remains the same reason why I trust that I can actually talk about it.
I will not discredit the testimonies since I have no reason to do so but I can talk about other stuff like how media dehumanizes terrible things and about some things that do cause some noise to me (noise in Advertising is when something disturbs the message and doesn't make it clear).
I know that all of you are moved by both stories regardless of how they were presented but the True Crime genre is sensacionalist AF and it thrives because people is morbid, and that's a fact.
When I had cable mom watched a few True Crime shows every now and then and I've always found them distasteful. The quick editing with effects, dramatic narration like "When Margaret woke up that morning, she could've never imagined that all her nightmares would come true" *cue to dramatic music* is very f#cked up. These are real cases, with real people involved, with people suffering for their loved ones... but for the networks is just entertainement, hours and hours to fill in their schedule + ad revenue. How many cases were actually solved after being on TV/a podcast? How many more people started to plead for justice after it was aired? These kind of shows are empty and milk on someone's suffering for a few bucks, it is never about justice, is never about exposing something/someone. Is all about money.
And for what I can see... this podcast is no different than others. Even the title "Master: The Neil Gaiman Allegations" is some Fifty shades of Grey sh!t that sounds attractive but considering the content it is in very poor taste to say the least.
When people (and I include myself) ask for a more serious take on the subject is because of this... we need information that is not meant to be consumed while eating popcorn and soda with a few breaks to clutch pearls and then move on with our lives.
If this was the only media outlet that opened the doors to both women they should've done better. It is a serious matter... a special report, lets say a 2 hr youtube video captioned "The True face of Gaiman" or "Gaiman's dark side" (or being 100% honest and title it "Gaiman's victims speak") would've erased any kind of doubt among ocassional listeners but no... they named it "Master" because it conveys BSDM, sex and trivializes the story to make it sound like erotica, not a real story. This wasn't an accident or a bad idea caused by inexperience... the name was chosen on purpose. They needed to get people's attention and get them on this "dark" and "taboo" world where this kind of practices (BSDM) is frowned upon. They wanted to predispose you to start this on the wrong foot.
But the stories are real! Don't try to silence the victims!
I'm not denying this, I'm just saying that Tortoise Media's Podcast doesn't care about the victims as much as you all seem to think.
They saw that Gaiman was involved so they picked up the story because they wanted clout, other media outlets (so far) passed on it because is a he said/she said case that is very hard to prove, reason why the police itself alledgedly decided not to move foward with it either. Does it suck? Yes. Does it mean that Tortoise is brave for bringing it up? No, they could've been... had they not give up to the need of making a freakshow out of it to get people's attention.
And like that Advertising trained me to be a Devil's Advocate.
The easiest way for me to show you how any Publicist out there would get things going to save his reputation is by using the tools that could (or eventually will) be used. So let us begin.
Missing context: Aside from the whole issue with the power dinamics (that we'll talk about it later) we don't really know how any of their first meetings really went. We know that it was the first day of work for the nanny... but was it really the first time they've met? If she was around Palmer, most likely they've seen each other before, maybe they've talked and hit it off... we don't know. Same with the first fan, they were writing each other for a year, we don't know what they ever talked about or how their relationship evolved. And this is aplicable in all cases. We were told the story from the first moment he became physical, not the real first contact. What does it matter? He's still a perv! Yeah, until context can tell you that he isn't... I've seen so many takes that all the sudden turned him into a scary monster lurking in the dark, preying on young little innocent girls... and never before he was ever addressed like that even by people that probably knew about his reputation or just plainly hated him for whatever reason. This is all made up by the narrative shown in the podcast (I mean the editing and narration) and the masses' imagination.
He stops when rejected: Three claims say that he stopped at the moment the woman/girl said no: the fan at the bus (even with his "I can get whatever I want" or whatever he said he did let her go when easily could've forced himself on her), the publisher that got kissed (or almost kissed) and the first fan coming foward that rejected his suggestion of a threesome... that one, yes is the same one with the UTI. I wouldn't be surprised if he convinced her that he would be careful or something like that just to get her on bed. It is very shitty and selfish of him... there is no justification there. Whether this stems from self-preservation (not wanting to be known as a r*pist) or because he does care about consent or maybe because he wasn't *that* horny those times and could let it go... the truth is that he did stopped when asked to.
Mental health. The whole "she's unstable, her memory isn't the best" kind of comment came out of his lawyer (the one that the podcast keeps on mentioning as "Gaiman's side" and probably they knew from the begining what lawyer it was but delivered his name a lot later to shock audiences once more that he has the same lawyer that many other men in the same position hired. As if a lawyer's reputation couldn't grant him a good starting point to get new clients whether they are innocent or not) so it is a case of a lawyer being a lawyer. But yes, people tend to remember things differently, ask any family memeber or friend about something that caused a major shock on you and you'll see that they might not even rememeber it at all, and if they do, probably they'll say that you overreacted or something like that. It sucks, but it happens. There is a possibility that what was perceived as an innocent flirting by Gaiman is also something more sinister by any of those women. Maybe the years changed the light of the events and something that they considerated "ok" back then is a "well... actually" now. People change. One thing I did wanted to bring up was the su!cide comment. It is poorly placed in the conversation (or in the part of the conversation we were allowed to see, again: lots of missing context) and does sound heavily manipulative... until you realize that he has spoken about his su!cidal past any time he got asked in Tumblr, interviews or other... and if he's willing to speak about it with a bunch of strangers online, he has spoken about it with people close to him and if she was going through it he most definetly brought up his experiences to talk to her. Still, we don't really know, maybe is a 50/50 situation. His Autism: I'm not a psycologyst, can't confirm or deny if he has it or not, but as a human (and a Publicist) I can say that is the lamest and worst excuse he could've possible thrown. Is just as bad as anyone excuses their behaviour based on their zodiac sign. Maybe he does struggle to notice tones of voice or intentions behind interactions but acting on those fake cues is a lot more related to being a man than autistic. Man think that if a woman is nice to him is because she loves him, man take the first chance to make a move just because she smiled at him. Let's not mix things up.
The Power Imbalance + Age Gap Let's address the Age Gap first because there isn't much to it either way. I was the kind of girl that would be repulsed at age gaps but eventually I realized that, as long as they are consenting adults and there are real feelings behind it... I don't care. I do feel nauseated when a 20 year old dates or marries a 80 year old "sugar daddy" because I can't conceive in my head the idea of a person wilingly turning themselves into a blow-up doll for a mummy only because the later is richer than God. It is disgusting and I do not endorse it. Any other case... ok, whatever, live and let live. The Power Imbalance is another story. You can't date someone you work with or work for. Every single company has this rule not just to avoid dramas but also to avoid any misbehaviour in the premises. But what about when is not for a private company, like in this case? It is still a no, because the "if you don't make me happy I'll kick you out" ghost shows up creating a hostile enviroment for at least one of you... what kind of relationship can arise from it? (to be fair, some people maybe gets turned on by it, what do I know? I'm aroace). My suspicious mind... I see a pattern in Gaiman's behaviour aside from the one everyone made up in their minds (him preying on any girl close to him, even though two are around his age): The "cool" writer: from his break-out to somewhere into 2010 or so. His "groupie prime" if you will when he could get any girl that was interested in him (students, fans) because possibly considered himself some sort of idol and/or rockstar. This is between his 26 and 50 years old, that check's out, is when men usually think themselves to be the center of the world and the sole desire of any women. The "I need to fly low": in the last 20 years or so, when he already stablished a respectful reputation among peers and fans so he needs to stop sleeping around and be more selective and secretive about his partners because it only takes one tweet, one photo or one video to destroy everything he is. Enter NDAs. I dare to say that being with women from his inner circle (AKA people that either worked for him or some way or another depended on him) was another "brilliant idea" he had to try and keep his image and reputation out of harms way. Still one question remains... what kind of people could he date? Just those on his same circle/league? You could argue that Palmer was some-where there but I don't think that she has as many fans as him and she's nowhere as well known. Maybe other popular author (if any of them fancies him)? An actress? another singer? a politician? Options are quite narrow so he would go to the "commoners" and then, by mere chance, he'll be the all-powerful bestselling author dating a poor woman and some will see a power imbalanced relationship and to others yet another Cinderella story.
Just as The Tortoise Media took the stories, edited them and packed them for your shock and horror... it can be just as easily spun into something else. Anyone could get any of this points I've made and turn him into a misunderstood man looking for a love that would be into BSDM as he is and, unfortunally for him, some of his lovers realized too late that they didn't liked it so now he's seen as an ogre when he did nothing wrong.
Mulder said it first ...
What could possibly happen
Am I reaching the end of this essay today (November 29th, 2024)? Are those angels singing? Please, tell them that I'm Agnostic, but I appreaciate the gesture. (Laurita on December 25th says: Oh! what a lie!)
At this point in time, Gaiman shows no proof of life, and most likely won't for another couple of months (maybe even for another year). His silence is not necessarily an admission of guilt. If he comes foward and gives his side of the story, he'll be the rich-white-author throwing crap at all these women and calling them liars, so he'll be a villain. If he admits that he has a problem (sex-addict or something like that) some people might be a little more simpathetic others will call him a liar and he'll still be a villain. There is no good outcome so, what's the difference? Is better just to remain silent.
We already know that Good Omens has been shortened to a special episode, Sandman was shot and will be released sometime in 2025 (most likely won't have another season not just because of Gaiman but because it was a struggle to secure the 2nd season for starters. The only way we could have a S3 is if the S2 is AMAZING and blows up all the numbers). The Anansi Boys... remains to be seen, supposedly it was shot, edited and is ready to be released so it is a matter of whether Amazon will pull a Warner Bros Vs Batgirl (just scrap the whole thing) or if they will pressure Gaiman to step foward and speak... but I don't think so because they didn't do it for Good Omens which, for what I can see, is a far more beloved franchise that needed to secure its fanbase so S3 wouldn't be a failure.
He did said a few times that he was writing a book, so maybe that's why it was a lot easier to stay away from social media... the thing is... will it be published?
I dare to believe that he is back in social media, doesn't interact but is watching, Hell, maybe he even has a fake account to test the waters! There was a rumour of him hiring a PR team to have bots and alter Google search and bury the accusations... I'd say it is a possibility but I had a client that bought bots and those are not as effective as you may think. They help boost views and such but they easily fade away. Maybe he did felt like throwing money to the garbage, who knows? Maybe it wasn't Gaiman himself but any of his "bosses" (publishers, networks) because it does feel more like a corporate move than a personal one.
The most sensible thing would be to go to Justice, present evidence and then let not just the Court but the Public make a decision (that could or not be aligned). The main issue with it is that many will see it as Gaiman trying to bring down a group of women instead of showing his side of the story, what will keep on adding ink to the stain. Is tricky but is the only way to have a sense of what could've possibly happened (because, of course, the only ones that know 100% what really happened are the parties involved and even that is not a reliable source given that everyone has their own version of the story based in their own feelings, predjudices and emotional baggage altogether).
My personal take
If you are still reading and haven't burst out of anger and left a thousand "k!ll yourself" or "typical mysoginist" or "defendor of SA" comments and/or reblogs, you are probably wondering "ok, I can see your point but what do you believe?"
I'm not surprised... nor heart broken.
Granted I was never a huge fan, just in the last couple of years I started to enjoy the adaptations of his stories more... but still, he doesn't have a huge impact in me. No author or creator has ever had it and I love plenty of artists.
There's something on the way I was raised, I believe, that turned out in me never putting people on pedestals. They are all human and there will always be something that will let you down on them. Most of the musicians and/or actors I love had drug issues, got into fights (some very stupid ones, others not so much), groupies everywhere, off comments that maybe should've never been made, opinions I do not share... I still follow them because sometimes they mature and realize their mistakes and do make a stand about it. And if they don't I can go "yeah, cool thing... but still this other thing still sucks" because I was taught that you can criticize something/someone you like, it is not a sin to do so.
I know that a lot of you think that absolutely all the stories he came up with were deacoys to have free access to girls... but... really? Whether you like his writing or not, he is capable of coming up with good premises mixing up diferent cultural myths and original ideas. The books are well plotted and thought out (nothing is 100% perfect, but that's how things are). Had you tell me that his books are obvious cash-grabs than can be written in less than a month with the premise "Plot? what Plot? this is just smut" I would've believed you. Any of us that loves writing (either original stories or fanfic) know how hard it is to create something half-way decent. Yes, some care about their audience and even go like "ho ho ho they will love that" but others just write because it is fun. Others do a mix of both. Looking at Gaiman's works, I hardly think that his main goal was to attract "goth girls" as someone said. What was the point of writing kids' books then? Get goth moms in the mix too or not losing his female fans just because they have kids now? Also many straight men like his writting too... is it collateral damage?
To me he is just a writer that in the worst case scenario has a dark side (note: not the BSDM part but the way he treats some women). As many others before him and as many others will in the future.
I hope that he does come foward and start to talk about it. But it has to be an honest interview, or better yet a press conference. Not something that anyone could've scripted and rehearse over and over again. People needs to see him either squirm, turn red, be uncomfortable to decide if he is being honest or not.
If it is all true, he has to be responsible for his actions. Undergo a program or something, show signals that he is sorry and is (honestly) trying to improve. Then and only then he can aspire to go back to where things were before all of this.
Even if he's done cameos everywhere, he's not an actor and nobody can fake for so long. I believe that the causes he supported did meant something for him. Many celebrities don't ever take a stand for anything and still have their fans and the money keeps on pouring in... nobody was forcing him into doing any of those campaigns and he had nothing to earn that he didn't already had (his fans would love him a little bit more, but they were already loving him anyway).
Rowling vs Gaiman (This is the end, I swear)
A lot of so called "feminists" are spewing their conspiracy theory of how everyone was dog-pilling Rowling "for just stating the thruth" while many are trying to save Gaiman "even if he's a r@pist".
Presumption of innocence first comes to mind, not to mention that many people saw Gaiman as like-minded, down to earth, good writer. Rowling was thought of as such until she didn't stopped and even doubled down on her irrational hate, amplified voices, donated money and fully supported (and still supports) a train of thought that is causing more damage than good. She could've just been an ideology-blinded author going "trans women aren't women" and called the day... she would've been just another author with a dark side that distresseses some people. But no, she is pretty much the face of a movement that puts people's safety and lives in danger.
The damage an entire movement can do to other group of people has no comparison to what damage a single man can cause in private.
I'm not saying that Gaiman's victims aren't worth a dime... I'm saying that if you care about people for real it doesn't matter if is one, twenty, a thousand or even a million, you have to care for all of them too... and yes, if you are of the religious type you must love and protect even to those that are not like you or share your views.
There's a witch hunt in this site (or at least there was one last time I checked) where if you had in your profile either the rainbow flag, or said that you were trans, your pronuns or anything that would identify you as LGBTQ+ and you were trying to make sense of everything that was going on, trying to figure out how to move foward and even trying to see a larger picture... a screenshot was taken and then posted elsewhere saying "look how the perverts protect themselves" and this blogs were 99.9% of the times RADFEMS.
In "the real world" the one that is away from Tumblr and any social media: Gaiman lost. Big time. It's done, there's nothing left to do.
Rowling is still being published and her properties are still being adapted and comercialized, the park's still thriving and all the merchandise they sell as well. There is no signal of cancelling going on outside of this site. And WB didn't let her go as quickly as they did with Johnny Depp, or Ezra Miller or Neil Gaiman now.
She still has her life, she goes to events, she gives interviews, she still can write and sell a book quite well.
She's not "suffering misogynistic attacks" from a rabid group of "wokes". She's perfectly fine in her castle enjoying her money as she has stated before.
Most likely Gaiman can also live the rest of his days off the money he's got so far. He could disappear forever to a small island in the middle of nowhere and that would be it, aside from the alledged damage he's caused (and he'd be careful not to be caught again, if he has a working brain) his power ends there.
Hers continues.
She is more of an active threat than he is.
#neil gaiman#sometimes you sit down with an idea and many other things happen so you end up wondering if it should be published or not#but I know at least one person interested in reading this#as I said before - I won't interact with this post again#I know you all and I do not wish to fight
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Cookie Run AU Ideas #5: Infoxication
This au is set pre-corruption, though it begins slowly. Knowledge is beloved by all, seen and treated as though he were a divine deity. While he may not want their worship, he cannot find it in himself to deny their gifts and affection. All he can do is return what they give him the only way he knows how, through knowledge.
He teaches them right and wrong, he teaches them the way of words, consequences and long-term results. He teaches them during day and plans what to teach them next at night. They continue and they continue and they continue, asking for more and more and more. And what can Knowledge do but obey?
His friends tell him to stop. They tell him to rest, that he can say ‘no more’. He does not have the heart to do that, yet he is so, so tired.
“Tell me, my creators, any god who will listen, tell me what I can do? What I should do?”
And his pleas are answered in the form of gold. Gold gears, splitting rifts, the eternal ticking of time. Time and her. She who appeared before him with her spinning eyes, and makes him fall. He descends, with no way of stopping, his thoughts fracturing under the countless lives he should not know, he cannot know for his mind cannot handle this everything.
He falls and he awakes, The Five Virtues The Five Beasts dammed to the hell that is a silver prison his friends surrounding him in worry. He cannot answer their calls, he cannot recall which him is this timeline’s him. Is he Shadow Milk Cookie? Is he Knowledge? Is he fated to corrupt under the weight of his own ingredients, under the weight of the cookies he thought loved him back?
How can he save his friends, if he cannot even keep the shards of his own self together?
At some point in the timeline, TK kidnaps SMC and forces him to work in the TBD :D PV will join him one day >:3
Croissant: TK: :) Croissant: that's the beast of deceit TK: Yes Croissant: What- What did you do to him? Why is he yellow? He looks traumatised TK: he needed to be in the TBD colour palette
also, I've thought up three more AUs since I last made that list lmao. System Error, My Student, and Practice Makes Perfect
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Why not enhance your fanfic reading experience with a fun challenge?
Generate your own Fanfic Reading Bingo Card and try to finish it over a timespan of your choice (e.g. during your next family gathering).
Details & instructions under the cut
Generate a new bingo card until you're (mostly) happy with the results. You can re-roll every single bingo field separately by clicking/tapping on it. When you have a card that fits your reading habits (or takes you out of your comfort zone, if you want to challenge yourself), take a screenshot of the card to keep it. Closing the page and reloading it will reset the card.
There are no fanfic-negative or bashing items in the lists. This bingo card is meant to be a positive experience and celebrate fanfiction and fanworks in general.
It's just a little practice piece I made for funsies mostly over the weekend, with some finishing touches earlier today. I will add more content over the next few days and weeks (and let's be realistic, probably months), but everything that's currently in there should already work as intended.
The bingo generator is responsive, which means it should work on desktop and mobile. The mobile layout isn't ideal yet, I'm trying my best to make it better (but I'd also still consider myself a newbie and I'm learning by doing).
The platform I'm using, Perchance, recently added AI options for their generators. This is a regrettable decision that I don't condone, and I'd like to emphasise that this generator is 100% handcrafted chaos.
Leaving the NSFW checkbox unchecked should remove all NSFW tags and tropes, but you could still come across content you find objectionable. Leaving the AO3 Tags checkbox unchecked removes all tags, but you could still come across tropes you find objectionable.
If you run into any issues or come across any bugs, please let me know. If you find something that should be in the NSFW category, but isn't, please also let me know. It's possible that I missed a few tags when I worked through the list. (But don't ask me to remove content you find objectionable.)
What do the checkboxes mean?
NSFW is basically what it says on the tin. If you tick this box, the NSFW tropes will be added to the mix. If you also ticked the AO3 Tags box, NSFW AO3 tags will be added.
AO3 Tags is also what it says on the tin. It's a list with roughly 1,000 AO3 tags. Around 250 of them are currently marked NSFW and can only be generated if you ticked both the NSFW box and the AO3 Tags box.
Stats & Meta currently only includes the lists "length" (contains wordcounts ranging from drabble to >500k) and "meta", which currently contains items like "a work with a song lyrics title" or "a work in a series". I will probably add other lists to that category at some point.
The already populated lists are:
challenge (various challenges and events like Yuletide, Whumptober)
creator (items like favourite author, anon creator)
discovery (various ways you could've found a fic)
fandom (ranging from tiny fandom to megafandom, also options like old fandom, inactive fandom, etc)
length (wordcounts from drabble to over 500k)
medium (items like podfic, fandom meta, fic with fanart)
meta (a fic's front-end and stats, also "citrus scale for rating" xD)
platform (where you read the fic)
reader (your relationship with the fic; is it your comfort fic, or your first fic in a fandom?)
style (chatfic, iambic pentameter, custom workskin, stuff like that)
trope (roughly 100 tropes)
tag (roughly 1,000 AO3 tags)
Lists that are currently planned, but empty:
canon (probably stuff like anime fandom, video game fandom, etc)
category (planned to add the AO3 categories and maybe Archive Warnings to this list)
content (might be scrapped, might be populated with some items moved over from other lists)
genre (what it says on the tin)
setting (where or when does the fic take place)
It's possible that I come up with more ideas for more lists at one point.
I had lots of fun making it, and I hope that you'll have fun with it. If you're using it, let me know when you got a bingo! :D
If you have fannish accounts on there (or don't mind inflicting fandom on your regular followers), you can also share the Fanfic Reading Bingo on Twitter, Mastodon, and Bluesky! :D
#Fandom#Fanfiction#Fic Reading Bingo#D47 Codes#this was born out of a caffeine induced frenzy#I basically stayed awake for three days until I was happy with the code haha#(I'm still so in love with my custom button... <3)
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Manga With Me: MHA Crackpot Analysis
I know we’re collectively running off the high of chapter 406 (just me??) but anyone else curious about the parallels we saw in chapter 407 to themes from way back in the training camp arc? I have a feeling they'll bear on what kind of ending our boys will have when all is said and done and I got time today to explore that.
⚠️ Spoiler warning: through chapter MHA 411.
Before you waste your time diving in, let's start with what makes this a crack analysis - I'm still making heads or tails on what this means for BakuDeku because... while I think the series will end with a reckoning between them, it doesn't mean it'll be to confirm the romantic underpinnings or that both of them will live.
Let's start with what informs this hunch:
Note: There's a serious bit of nuance we're missing from the English translation though I'm having a hard time finding the original post I liked many moons ago that essentially goes into the fact that, when Midoriya told Compress to "Give him back," referring to the Bakugo marble... he used language that had a possessive connotation. 👀 In fact, even with the English translation, we can see that Compress specifically calls out the phrasing to be odd, we just miss the subtlety of why that is (they really don't want us to be great). Compress nobly shoots back that Bakugo doesn't belong to anyone but this violent idea of possessing someone... DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR TO ANYONE??
We have seen, scattered throughout this entire story, that All For One has always been obsessed with recapturing the One For All quirk. It's why he targets the successors so compulsively. I assumed it was because, as the dynamic had been cast, that One For All has always had the power to best All For One. It wasn't until we saw the vestiges locked within OFA, Yoichi in particular, that we realize there's a bit more to the story. AFO's origin story in chapter 407 casts a really interesting foreshadow.
This alone isn't particularly damning or why I think it has impact on the story's end, or at least not comprehensively. Now that we see All For One up close... we've gotten some insight into his disposition as well. Specifically, here:
This mentality sounds exactly like...
At the heart of the story, everything has centered around Midoriya and Bakugo and their quest for number one, as inspired by All Might.
Canonically, we know that, in universe, their adoration of All Might has led to an embodiment of a facet of what they believe makes him a good hero. The Win to Save vs. Save to Win camps that are defined most readily at Ground Beta by All Might himself.
Midoriya and Bakugo are frequently cast as two halves of the same whole and as an impetus, not only for their mutually linked improvement, but also inspiring others around them to level up, as well. While it can be inferred that All Might as a mentor is largely the catalyst for this, it would be remiss to say that he doesn't have his own host of parallels but, at the center of this crack pot theory is his obvious relation to All For One.
To simplify where I'm going with this and explain the upcoming mental gymnastics: All For One is a foil for All Might.
We've seen Midoriya and Bakugo, in their quest to be heroes, embody two halves of who All Might is as a hero. In fact, Bakugo's reconciliation of his previous inability to "Save to Win" marked a major development in his character evolution and perception by people who aren't in Class 1A (Monoma. I'm talking about Monoma). On an unrelated note, members of Class 1A get to a point of not treating Bakugo like a ticking time bomb as they drag him around and infantilize him (Tsuyu) and this marked difference provided further exposition that the class has come to realize that he's mostly bravado and bluster and maybe not as awful as depicted at the onset of the story.
All that to say... given the parallels we see in the latest chapters. Are they meant to be two sides of All For One, too?
A continuing theme of the story (I'm sure I blab about it in other Manga With Me threads) is the fact that anyone can be a hero. However, there's also a critical examination of one's ability to be villainous regardless of intention or perception. We see it in the case of Endeavor, in particular, but also with characters like Hawks and Lady Nagant... and the Hero Commission, in general. Alternatively, even villains are redeemable or may have good intentions and we're seeing a lot of their redemptions play out through the duration of this war.
If we've seen the resolution of their embodiment of All Might, does it make sense to cast Midoriya and Bakugo in the shadow of who All For One is, as well? Arrogant, possessive, merciless and with an ego that looks only to subjugate others.
I think what causes unease about these panels and their comparison to AFO is because I'm expecting a huge cop out. We've been getting a lot of damning BKDK moments with an extra serving of Togachako. Would this new parallel cast them more in a brotherly light? With these parallel's and All For One's defeat... what does this mean for BakuDeku?
I think we've seen Bakugo overcome his likeness to AFO, as it were. Despite their competition, he recognized why he couldn't face Midoriya's spirit so, instead he rejected him. He reveals as much to All Might directly. Midoriya is no longer just a pebble and, based on vestigal Bakugo, I think we can all agree they are linked by something akin to fate. In fact, Bakugo was only able to save All Might (and balance out his guilt for "ruining" All Might while pulling off an All Might signature fist of triumph) with Midoriya's help and their wordless collaboration. He even grabbed his hand!
But the object of AFO's obsession is his brother and I can't help but also draw the connection between Bakugo's previous inability to reach out and accept Midoriya's hand back at the pond where Yoichi willingly grasped Kudou's (... pre-Bakugo, Bakugo) and escaped his brother. The coincidence is too much and I can't help but look for meaning in how this story seems to be coming full circle. Because, on the one hand I want to compare them to AFO but on the other hand, is the better comparison between AFO and OFA themselves?
In the latest chapter, we've seen that Shigaraki has robbed Midoriya of at least one OFA vestige and subsequently their inherent quirk. Will it all end by him losing each of them until he's back to being quirkless? A destruction of AFO seeing a destruction of OFA and ending this dispute of ideologies that's gone back several generations? Successful in besting Shigaraki but... losing someone who means so much to him in the process?
7/19 Edit to clarify, what I’m trying to say is: if the resolution to Bakugo’s hubris was reaching out a hand to a “pebble” to ultimately defeat AFO… would the resolution to Midoriya’s possessiveness be to lose everything?
It's too much to think about but I don't call it crack pot for nothing. I'm still formulating my hypothesis but think this next chapter should have something huge to explain how Deku is still able to avoid Shigaraki despite no longer being able to use Gearshift and losing Danger Sense. Maybe it'll be the linch pin in figuring out if there's a hypothesis to be had or whether this was all a big reach. I still can't decide.
#manga with me#manga with me mha#mha#bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#deku and kacchan#bkdk#dkbk#ktdk#bakudeku#dekubaku#katsudeku#anime#manga#manga analysis#deku#kacchan#izuku midoriya#midoriya izuku#katsuki bakugo#bakugo katsuki#all might#toshinori yagi#yagi toshinori#all for one#afo#ofa#one for all#mha meta
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So you mentioned that (love's little dagger part 2) oc hooked up with jimin and tae saw jimin in oc's bed.
Can I request a drabble where tae tells oc (after seeing jimin in oc's bed) that next time they should keep it quiet (tae is jealous) and oc provokes him? ^^
kinda nsfw but not really?
your bedroom door is slightly ajar. taehyung can't help but step towards it naturally, a bubbling taste of something bitter rising up his throat and settling in his mouth.
the shower is on, muffled water hitting the tile passing through the crack under the door. you just got in. you won't be out for a few minutes more.
taehyung watches himself place his hand on the handle, pushing it open an inch wider to catch the edge of your bed in view. half of your curtains are open and late morning sunlight leak through, bathing the foot of the bed in pale light, and sparse dust motes float through the air.
there's a pretty boy in your bed – pretty in that awful fae-like way, too good to be true. even dead asleep, limbs wrapped around himself and framing his soft face, his slightly-parted lips are sweetly pink, and his hair appears silky, messy in the way taehyung spends half an hour perfecting in the bathroom mirror.
the boy shifts with a soft breath, tucking his face into the crook of his arm. the sheets slip down around his bare waist.
taehyung's hand slides off the handle and he rolls his eyes, jaw working as he stomps into the kitchen.
why him? he thinks, annoyed. the moment the kettle finishes boiling, he steals it and pours himself a cup of instant coffee. of all the people you bring back, why him?
he's shoving spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth on the couch, watching a replay of last night's news, when he hears footsteps leading into the kitchen. you don't greet him, but he knows it's you by the way you exhale softly, popping your back before you place a pan on the stove and dig around in the fridge for some eggs.
"is this some sort of revenge?"
you glance up, only to find taehyung tucked up on the furthest side of the couch, determinedly not looking at you. you scoff and crack a couple of eggs one-handed against the side of the quickly-heating pan. "not everything revolves around you, taehyung."
"but this does, doesn't it?" he taps his spoon absently against the rim of his bowl as you turn on the stove fan, as if to drown him out. "fucking pretty boys just 'cause you can isn't your style."
"you know what my style is? didn't know you cared so much," you say wryly, grabbing a spatula out of a drawer. "why? you jealous, puppy?"
"only a loser would be jealous over a thing like you," he says rudely, and you make a face of mock hurt, touching your heart.
"ouch. long diary entry about that tonight."
he stops speaking, moody in his corner of the living room. you flip eggs, humming to yourself, and reach for the pack of bacon, eventually replacing the eggs with hot bacon. you take a moment to cover the eggs with a plate and find yourself face-to-face with taehyung on the other side of the kitchen island, glaring at you as if he's imagining eighty different ways to kill you on the spot.
"what? you want some?"
"out of all the boys you could bring back, how do you always know who the loud ones are?" he blurts out, his cereal bowl in hand.
you lift an eyebrow and half-assedly bite back your smirk. you begin to butter four slices of bread. "are you offering something, taehyung?"
he lunges forward an inch or two, as if moving to leap the island and wrap his hands around your throat. he settles for a deep scowl, flicking his bangs out of his eyes.
"you disgust me," he seethes, and doesn't even put his bowl in the sink. he rests it on the bench, relishing in the way you glance at it and your jaw ticks. "you're so fucking petty. bet your boy wouldn't like it if i told him you're only sleeping with him for revenge points against me."
"oh, he knows i'm better than that," you retort, resisting the urge to place your palms on the bench and mirror his stance. you give him one last glance before turning back to the stove, flipping the bacon and letting it sizzle a little longer to match the colour on the other side. "you're the one going on and on about 'revenge' and everything. are you sure you're not just making it up to justify your continuing dislike towards me?"
his mouth falls open. "that's gaslighting. that's actually gaslighting. that's so fucking rude."
"it's only gaslighting if it works. is it working?" carefully, you remove the bacon and reach over by him, winking as you grab your bread. you grin to yourself as he growls, and you set the buttered bread in the middle of the pan with a hiss and a sizzle.
"what is your fucking deal, dude? why are you so against me? i bring some company back, and then you go out and do it twice as bad as i do. twice as loud, twice as long, twice a night." he lists them on his fingers. "i'm about to stop being nice to you if this is the kind of thanks i get: no sleep and no peace."
you scoff. "that was you being nice? shit. i shouldn't've held back, then. could've gotten double the 'pretty boys' in that time. you could've joined, if you wanted to."
"join—?" he sputters. "join—! what gives you the impression i want to sleep with you, huh? what keeps giving you that impression? or is this some kind of immature boyish humour that everyone else left behind in ninth grade? fucking 'do i want to sleep with you'..."
a figure appears in the hallway, pattering down into the kitchen with a delicate yawn. he stretches, lifting his too-big white t-shirt above his hips. he wears a tiny pair of black briefs, and taehyung can't believe it. this boy has his own clothes drawer in your room. jesus christ.
"good morning to you, too, dolly." you grin, bringing a plate with a toastie over to him as he takes a gentle seat on the edge of a stool, shooting taehyung a sweet smile. you retrieve a knife from a drawer and cut the toastie for him diagonally, gently pulling the halves apart to show him the perfect golden insides: egg, bacon, cheese. you can never go wrong with a classic.
"morning," he hums, swinging his legs. he combs his fluffy hair back from his forehead and giggles as you bring your own plate over and cut it in half, leaning over the bench with an elbow crossed over your front. "you did all this for me, hyung?"
"mm, of course. you've got classes until six today – i want you to get a good breakfast."
"you're too sweet," he coos, picking up a warm triangle of savoury goodness. he takes a big bite out of one corner and moans, brushing his fingers lightly over his glossy lips as he stares up at you with crinkled eyes.
"you're exaggerating. i do this all the time for you."
"hm – maybe it's the new reason? what was the entrée to this, again?" he grins, leaning forward, and subconsciously, so do you, glancing up at each other between bites and hiding your smiles behind slices of crisp toasted bread.
"this is disgusting to watch," taehyung says bluntly, standing up. "i'm heading out. please keep all your fluids to your bedroom, i insist."
you watch him grab his jacket and bag, whisking out of the apartment with a whip of hair and a glare. you smirk behind your toastie, clearing your throat to stop a laugh.
he's always been a drama queen.
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Hey hey hey. Did you miss me? Sorry I’ve been lacking in writing, empty brain plus school is not a good combination 😟
As much as I love Cartman with all my heart, it’s time I put out some Kenny content! He’s my second favourite and I’m convinced him and I are the same person, so I gotta show my boy some love 🧡🧡
General Kenny headcanons coming up! He’s aged up here, as all characters I write for usually are :))
Kenny McCormick: General Headcanons
Kenny doesn’t die as often anymore, but I still put him as a huge klutz. He’s constantly falling, tripping, and injuring himself somehow. His friends are always like “Dude you’re gonna kill yourself one of these days!”….meanwhile he’s died countless times and no one (except for Cartman and a few others) remembers
He’s developed a decent tolerance to pain due to how many times he’s died. He could accidentally lean on a hot stove and barley feel it. It really depends on the day though
He's kind of a goober. He loves to tease people and joke around. Also likes to joke around as a way to make light of dark situations. Once you've died as many times as this guy has, you reach a point where you stop taking life so seriously
He has blue eyes, but they’re a darker shade of blue, so sometimes they almost look purple depending on the lighting
This guy definitely loves to smoke weed, but that's the farthest he'll ever go as far as drugs are concerned. He refuses to go down the same path as his parents, plus he remembers his "cheesing" days and doesn't care to revisit real hard stuff. Just give him a joint and he's set
Actually one of the most chill people you'll ever meet. Everyone gets along with him. He isn't one for drama, but if he happens to be caught up in the middle of drama, he'll either silently observe or he tries his best to deescalate the situation to calm everyone down so everyone can get along
This is canon (and a topic for another time), but he's a huge perv. But not in a creepy way. He's constantly making sexual innuendos out of, literally everything. Always on the hunt for porn magazines, but he never does anything overly weird like sneaking into bathrooms or anything like that. He's a, "respectful perv" if you will
He's always looking to help out others wherever he can. One of the most selfless people in his inner circle. He's a sweetheart
The best big brother to Karen even as he gets older. Always looking out for her. Can imagine that when things get bad at home, he dips out of the house and takes Karen for drives to calm her down. Probably gets her a treat from the convenience store as well
Also knows lots about periods. When Karen is on "her time of the month", he keeps her stocked up with pads, tampon, treats, heating pads, the works
You would think he's this nonchalant delinquent, but dude's actually so smart. He does well in school, which comes as a shock to his friends because they never see him study. His grades are nearly as high as Kyle's, but his weakest subject is math
Favourite subject? Science. Absolute science nerd. Loves chemistry, physics, biology, all of it. He's so intrigued by it and constantly pushes himself to learn more
I put him as a huge car guy. His love of NASCAR when he was little turned him into a car lover and very knowledgeable about cars. You need your oil changed? He's got you. Having car trouble in general? He's on his way to help you out. Loves playing around with different modifications to his own car, accessories, you name it
Out of the main four, he has a closer friendship to Cartman. As he's gotten older, he's gained a better understanding of why Cartman is the way he is and therefore is able to understand his behaviour. The pair are simply chaos together. Kenny goes along with whatever Cartman does for shits and giggles, unless it’s something really messed up
He’s a huge flirt and a tease, loves pushing peoples’ buttons and finding out what makes them tick
All in all, Kenny is just a chill goofball. Everyone loves him, and he’s one of the best people to be friends with 🧡
More than likely making a part 2. Love this dude 🧡
#kenny mccormick#kennymccormick headcanons#south park#south park headcanons#we the same fr#wake up Hannah finally posted#Hannah’s kinda dumb#hannah is a goofball
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I cant stop thinking about the bmol experimenting with Sam and thanks to @trials-era-sam confirming our hc with Sam's addiction (thank you Jared!!) i just had to write this-
"Names Sam. All we need are names." Toni repeats, tapping her pen against her stupid little notebook.
Even if Sam wanted to, he can't give her want she wants. He doesn't really know that many hunters to begin with, let alone all the hunters in the whole of the united states. Who does she think he is?
She sighs dramatically and puts both her pen and book down on the old table next to her, uncrossing her legs and standing up, taking a few steps closer to Sam.
"Fine." She muttered, "we'll just move onto the next phase, since you're choosing to be difficult."
She starts fishing around in her blazer pocket, in search for something, and Sam can tell she found what she was looking for when a small smile pulls against her lips and she slowly withdraws her hand out, holding what looks to be a small vial?
Sam tilts his head to try and get a better look at it. Is it another drug to induce hallucinations? A truth serum? Who knows what they've invented over across the Atlantic.
Toni scoffs at the confusion displayed on Sam's face, and holds out the vial for him to see, holding it up triumphantly as if she won a race or something.
The first thing he notices is how red it is. He stares for a few more seconds until he realizes, and he can practically feel all the air leaving his lungs.
They've been keeping tabs on him for a good 12 years, they know pretty much everything about him. He doesn't know why this didn't occur to him sooner.
"No." He practically hisses at her, his mind flooding with the pain of detox already. Although he doubts he will ever make it out of here, and hes kind of already given up trying to escape. Whats the point? Dean is dead, Cas will be fine without him. Lucifer is out there roaming free, theres nothing for him anymore.
He's completely content with these british people keeping him here.
But eventually he'll have to detox, he always does.
He can feel his heart starting to pick up pace.
The first detox was bad enough, but he can start to feel the panic raising at the thought of having to live through that now, what horrors would haunt him in his...less than stable state.
He doesn't know what he'd do if he has to see Lucifer or the cage again.
What atrocities would his mind conjure up this time?
He finds his mind rushing back to all the less than pleasant experiences in his life. How it felt to have an archangel inside of him. He thinks that’s why he didn’t realize Gadreel was in him for so long. In comparison to the searing pain of the literal devil in his body, some run of the mill angel was like a tick. Hardly worth his attention.
Toni clearing her throat snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her again, and couldn't hide the fact that his hands were shaking.
"Sam," she began "you have made less than ideal choices in your life." A pointed glance towards him. "But, that doesn't mean you still can't be utilised. We as men of letters firmly believe in sufficiency, and your way of...terminating demons is much faster than any excorsim that we have on hand. Don't you think?"
Sam thinks that his heart is going to give out with how fast it is pumping. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. The year of shame and regret with Ruby and all his mistakes crashing down on him.
"Please." He pleads, looking up at this awful woman through his wet hair. "You don't know what you're doing." He tries to reason with her, but with that glint in her eye, he knows shes not listening to a word he's saying.
"Cmon now Sammy, you can't tell me that you don't miss it." She exclaims, a soft undertone to her voice, as if shes trying to be understanding towards him. Sam scoffs.
And hangs his head in defeat.
They've burnt him, shot him, cut him up and probably broken a few ribs if his pain is any indication. He has no doubt that they will hesitate to do this to him too.
Hes just glad Dean won't be here to watch him turn into a monster again.
Everything Dean told him during that year comes rushing back as he clamps his mouth shut tight. He knows that this will happen to him with or without his consent, but he won't let it happen without a fight.
After all, she isn't Lucifer, he doesn't have to lay down and let her do whatever she wants to him. Hes allowed to fight back. And for Deans sake, he will try.
Toni notices Sams jaw muscles working, and sighs like a disapproving mother whose toddler just won't listen to her.
She roughly grabs Sams face and lifts his head up, making him look up at her.
And although his face is rock hard with determination, pure fear is flashing in his eyes.
He doesn't want to go back to that. To that feeling of desperately needing more and more.
Hes fought so hard against his addiction for so long now. Why is this happening? Chuck must think his life is a joke to do this to him.
But, he keeps his mouth closed tight as Toni tuts and pinches his nose closed, staring down at him patiently.
He hopes he's strong enough to let himself pass out before his mouth inevitably opens to let in air. At least then he could say he tried. But he knows the human body, he knows that when survival insticts kick in, he won't be able to fight it.
But he closes his eyes and tries to stay calm as toni pinches his nose tighter and grows more annoyed.
He starts to count.
Hes gotten to fifty seconds when his lungs really start to hurt.
67. His head has started to spin.
89. His teeth hurt from how hard he's clenching them.
92. He can feel the presence of the vial hanging above him like a carrot on a string. Patiently waiting for his mouth to open like they both know it will.
107. There are spots dancing behind his eyelids. He knows his body will betray him soon.
He lets out a silent prayer at second 115. Begging for someone to help him.
He wonders if Lucifer can hear him.
121. He gasps.
Before he can even suck in some precious air, the vial is being shoved in his mouth, and the metallic taste of blood on his tounge is the only thing his senses can focus on.
Its okay. Dont panic. He just has to spit it out like he did before. No biggie.
He ignores the way his body yearns for it. To swallow it. He ignores how his muscles are remembering how powerful they used to feel. He ignores how his throat is trying to gulp it down, actively working against the only rational part of Sam's brain.
The smell is overwhelming. The taste practically irresistible.
He doesnt have to swallow it. He doesn't have to let her win. He doesn't.
He goes to spit it out. Toni sees. She acts quicker than Sam can even realise.
She's pinching his nose again and roughly keeping her other hand over his mouth. Making sure that he can't possibly spit it out and cutting off all access to air.
Meaning he'll need to swallow it to be able to gasp for air.
He looks up at her with tears in his eyes. His head starting to spin again from lack of oxygen. He shakes his head softly, once again begging her not to do this to him, even though he knows this grovelling will get him nowhere.
She looks down at him with no emotion in her eyes. Even the smile on her face has faded. She just seems a bit bothered now. As if Sams resistance is just a small inconvenience to her.
He'll have to swallow soon. She knows it. They both know it.
Eventually Sam finds his throat working against him and swallowing down the sweet sweet blood.
As it goes down, he gasps out and Toni removes her hand. A satisfied smile on her face.
Sam, on the other hand though, couldn't be more disgusted with himself.
He would start crying if there was any liquid left in his body. He can already feel it. Feel the power thruming through his veins. He can feel his body yearning for more already, protesting that it wasnt enough.
He starts to shake. Silently sob. He cannot believe that this is happening to him again. That he has to go through this again, and all for what? Because some british people want to study him to see how he works and then do who knows what with him?
He starts sweating. Even that tiny amount enough to bring back a pretty severe addiction.
Toni sits back down looking smug. "How do you feel, Sam?"
He glares at her, although how effective it is with his shaking chin and dried tear streaks on his cheeks, he doesn't know.
"Alright." Toni nods at him and starts to make her way back up the stairs.
Sam starts to freak out, but refuses to show it. Not at least until she leaves the basement.
Theyre leaving him here. For how long? Are they going to make him go through detox now? Study his symptoms? Wait for him to start begging them for some more? Maybe, if Sams lucky enough, it wont be that bad, since it was only one small vial.
But he can already feel it. The way his head feels like it's getting squashed between two rocks, the way his stomach is rolling like he's about to vomit, the way his limbs are shaking quite violently.
Sam is never lucky. And this is going to hit him hard.
He hopes it doesnt get so bad that he starts begging for more blood. He'd never forgive himself if he fell that far.
He wishes Dean were still alive.
#alrighty#so#this was fun!#i missed writing <3#lemme know if you want a continuation when dean finds sam ill write it if this gets one like#sam winchester#supernatural#spn fic#spn ficlet#supernatural fic#calliope hit me#bmol#toni#sam angst#angst#its 2am i didnt proofread this sorry#demon blood addict sam#holy sjit i did not realise how long this was#damn
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PatB Review- Happy Narfday
**Before we get into it, I want to apologize for how long this has taken me to get out. I've been juggling a few different projects around and this always got pushed to the back burner.**
Oh dear, you guys want me to start off angry, don't ya?
Okay okay, I said I'd praise every episode at least a little, so I'll start off positive:
The first few minutes were actually pretty decent
Loved the song in this segment, I laugh every time Pinky starts singing
Any episode that gives more insight as to how Pinky thinks has some serious potential, and this one did NOT disappoint in that regard
It really had the potential to have a seriously sweet ending, or at least an interesting ending
Unfortunately...
That's where the positives end
When I tell you that my heart dropped when I read the episode summary before even seeing the segment, it fucking DROPPED.
If you don't need to read an overly negative rant of your favorite segment, here's your que to dip now, I won't be holding back just because I've had a year or two to simmer down.
You're here for the long haul, eh?
Alrighty then
Let's start with the premise: "Brain is forced to celebrate Pinky's Birthday"
There is no better way to piss me off than to word a summary like that. Brain not wanting to celebrate his own birthday is one thing, but to have him despise the idea of celebrating his ONLY FRIEND'S birthday is something completely different. These are the kinds of plotlines where Brain is at his most insufferable because he has to put himself aside. I was actually really worried that Talladega Mouse would turn out this way, but it thankfully didn't (maybe I'll do a review on that one next if it wins the next poll XD).
Brain being 'forced' to do something means he's just going to complain or lie or be antagonistic for the duration of the segment, and in this one he surprisingly manages to tick all of those.
But enough about the premise; I'm sure y'all are more interested in what I think of the meat of the episode. I will tackle this in 3 sections- The Build-Up, The Moment I "Walked Away", and Why the Apology Sucks- and then I'll wrap everything up with my final thoughts. Let's get into it!
The Build-Up (Everything leading up to the reveal)
I went into this segment knowing that there was a 50% chance I wouldn't like it because I HATE plotlines where Brain treats Pinky like he's a 'chore' to deal with, but I was hoping I could be pleasantly surprised.
And the first few minutes actually aren't that bad. Like I said, I love the song, and Pinky actually almost saying that he doesn't want to take over the world all the time could have led to a very interesting conversation.
However, that all changes when Brain decides to lie about the amulet he finds. And I've gotta stop to rant about his 'idea' because it's fucking stupid. So...his plan was to give it to Pinky as a present, take it while he was sleeping, and then use it for his plan (which we all know he wasn't going to enact that night because he had already been up for a FULL 24 HOURS). How stupid does he think Pinky is? It was kind of implied earlier in the episode that Pinky wasn't even really expecting Brain to get him anything. Did Brain think he could just take Pinky's present, one that he loved to the point that he was going to sleep right next to it, and then have that be the end of it? No shit he's going to notice. It makes more sense to just HIDE it for the rest of the episode and have Pinky realize Brain was planning behind his back.
You'll soon realize that a lot of my issues with episodes like these are linked to how if you think about what Brain is doing for more than 5 seconds, it immediately falls apart (i.e. Brain making B.R.A.I.N unfeeling and dumping his feelings on it, making a pocket dimension where he's married to Julia, throwing Pinky under the bus in court).
Anyway, Pinky finds Brain, gets his 'present' and then says this:
"I don't need anything but your friendship to have the best Narfday ever! And I mean it! Zort!"
It is at this point that I knew I would be cringing anytime Brain lies through his teeth. Like I said before, my feelings do end up making me view this episode in a very weird light. Just, Pinky wanted to spend a day with his best friend and not have to worry about ANYTHING. It was a plus to get a gift because he already loves being with Brain so damn much. At this point in season 2, Brain hasn't realized how much he should value his time with Pinky
The next song segment proceeds and then we get to...
The Moment I "Walked Away"
Pinky's confrontation was one of the hardest scenes for me to get through due to one important factor: second-hand rage. I get angry for Pinky a lot of the time ESPECIALLY in the reboot, and this episode had me reach my peak.
For starters, you get to hear Pinky try to get Brain to relax but Brain's trying to lie to get the amulet, which results in it getting destroyed and Brain blowing up at Pinky. This leads to the big reveal that Pinky's birthday had long since past and that he could never find the right time to bring it up until now.
Brain finally realizes he's been a dick and he apologizes and asks for forgiveness. This is where I get irrationally angry
When I tell you I couldn't sit though the scene, I mean every few seconds, I had to pause the video and pace around my room, mentally walking myself through Brain's behavior because I just couldn't comprehend it. What doesn't help is that the structure of the episode prevents any of what Pinky or Brain do in this moment to hit as hard as it really could have.
At this moment, I'm getting into my personal feelings about how I would have written the episode, because the way it is- it's just infuriating:
For starters, I'd make it a full 22 minutes (or at least somewhere between 11-15) because the episode was too damn short for the story they were trying to tell. If they wanted Brain to actually EARN any sort of forgiveness, you can not have him apologize and then have Pinky immediately forgive him. Pinky has more of an edge than that, he's gotten Brain to properly apologize before; let him run off in a huff, or just have him tell Brain "I need some alone time", or SOMETHING
You gotta move the reveal to earlier so that we can see Pinky take some time before he forgives Brain, or give time so that Brain can actually TRY to make it up to Pinky
Brain's apology consisted of him putting himself down and THEN asking for forgiveness; he says NOTHING that implies he won't do the same thing again if he thinks he can get away with it. The reboot gave us one of the darkest interpretations of this character and they give him such an elementary school apology that I just can't accept it.
The whole "returining to the status quo" thing can happen, but why did it have to zoom in so damn quickly? This show just doesn't like letting anyone sit in their emotions
You know what would have been interesting to see? Brain blows up just as he does in the episode, but Pinky goes to get some space and drops his birthday list. When Brain goes to pick it up, he sees what the last thing on Pinky's birthday list was: "Try to take over the world with Brain". Brain has a moment to himself where it is completely silent and he has to live with his mistake and try to make it better. Brain eventually finds Pinky and then gives a PROPER apology
Speaking of the "apology"...
Why the Apology Sucks
I want you to just THINK about the apology again for a second:
"PerhapsI did end up solving my Absolute Zero theory after all, Pinky. For I'm an Absolute Zero when it comes to being a friend. Can you ever forgive me?"
Brain's never been the best at issuing apologies, but this one got be riled up, so I felt the need to add this section in to analyze exactly what makes this not work.
An Ohio State University study cited 6 elements of an effective apology:
More specifically:
Looking at the 2 key elements, while Brain's apology meets the first requirement, he fails to offer to fix the problem himself. Instead, Pinky is the one to ask to do the last thing on his list and Brain allows it.
What's more is that out of the 6 main elements, Brain really only meets 2 of them through his words: Expression of Regret, and Request for forgiveness (the article even talks about how the request isn't the strongest element)
Like I said earlier, Brain spent a majority of the apology saying how bad he was instead of showcasing that he fully understands why Pinky is upset or how sorry he is or saying how selfish he was or simply offering Pinky another chance to do something for his birthday now that he knows it was several weeks ago.
I know I'm being extra hard on Brain, but if you've heard any of my past rambles, you know it's because of how much I love his character and I was actually rooting for his arc he was going on in the reboot.
Final Thoughts
Happy Narfday was an episode that not only met my expectations, it exceeded them in how I expected Brain to be portrayed in this episode.
Have any of you watched "A Family That Poits Together"? Well the first couple of minutes of that episode is EXACTLY how Brain was written for over half of this episode's runtime. Brain being unreasonably angry and annoyed at Pinky the whole time gets irritating and the ending just sends me over the edge in second-hand rage.
Is this an awful episode? No, not by a long shot by this season's standards. Was it the most disappointing? Actually no, that award goes to a completely different season 2 episode.
What this episode represents in my eyes is an attempt to make Brain be more considerate of Pinky, and by my standards, it failed horribly
And with that, this is where this ramble ends
Thank you for being so patient with me, and I'll see you soon with the next episode poll!
#pinky and the brain#patb#animaniacs#pinky and the brain rant#animaniac s2#I'll upload the next poll soon!
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So, Tilrey's been gone from home 3 years now. 😢
His Mom knew him better than anyone at that point; her little boy, whom she'd raised alone, with the memory of her beloved husband (who apparently keeps passing his hot genes along each generation 😂🥵).
What qualities does she think he has that she thinks will help him survive and navigate whatever's going on? She's extremely worried about his sensitivity and shyness, as we (and Malsha) know. Most importantly, he was just such a kid when taken! Hadn't even finished the school year 😢.
In that context it's hard to imagine she could have any hope at all that he'd be okay... but I doubt she ever gave up hope.
What would him "being okay" mean to her?
Love this question. And lol to the “hot genes.” A Bronn family tradition. 😅
Lisha has to believe Tilrey can survive. She refuses to give up. Two things give her hope, two things she believes Tilrey inherited: political savvy from her and physical daring from his dad. When Tilrey was on the ski slopes, he always became a bolder kid; it was social situations that made him shy. She knows he has the ability to listen and analyze and understand people, just as she does, and she correctly guesses that will be useful when dealing with Councillors. The Tilrey she knew wasn’t good at social engineering, but Lisha suspects he will grow into that, just as she did.
What does “being okay” mean to her? That may be a work in progress. Lisha was raised with a stiff-upper-lip mentality that is very Oslov: work hard, don’t complain, endure. She passed that on to Tilrey, which is why he finds it so hard to even acknowledge his past trauma. So at first she might imagine that him being “okay” means him being stoic and controlled. This is what Tilrey expects from her when he finally visits her.
But at some point Lisha has started to realize that “okay” needs to mean more than that. It means being able to love and care for yourself even though you’ve been through some terrible shit. It means forgiving yourself for everything you had to do to survive—but not repressing the bad feelings, either. As she starts to expand her concept of “okay,” she might also expand her idea of how sex work affects people. She raised Tilrey with a prejudice that she can no longer afford to have. I can imagine her interviewing some of those boys who hang out with Fernei to find out what makes them tick—and, for the first time, she might understand why they truly make her uncomfortable. Not because they’re morally degraded, but because she can’t be sure they chose what they’re doing. She hasn’t confronted the role of coercion in her society, and they force her to think about that possibility.
Thinking about this has given me a new chapter idea! There’s no way she’d stop sending letters to Tilrey, and somebody is reading those heartfelt letters. I need to check on what The Trip to Thurskein says about this…
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