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mythiccheroacademia · 3 years

Text

—lunch box

A/N: just another cute idea i had because i’m obsessed with barbarian/dragon king!bakugo and fantasy shit in general. some context: you and bakugo are betrothed—although, sometimes you wish you weren’t bc he can be a real asshole. luckily for you, he’s willing to work on it bc he likes loves you just that much. a litte angst (it wouldn’t be a mtha story without it) but it ends in fluff <3

Warnings: cursing

Your friends looked at their food with heart eyes and dug into the neatly wrapped box with fever.

“Ahh! Thank you for making this, Y/N!” one of them exclaimed. The other could only nod in agreement, too into your cooking to speak.

You smiled and waved them off. “It was nothing. Consider it a thank you for letting me copy the homework last night,” you chuckled.

“Did you cook one for Prince Bakugo? I’d imagine he’d love it! If there’s anyone’s cooking he loves more than his own, it’s yours!”

At the mention of his name, your expression fell. You looked down at the case of food you had prepared for him as an apology.

Four days ago, you two were hanging around his residence. You managed to get him to dance around with you. Well, it more like you were dancing and he was doing his best not to combust in embarrassment. Katsuki warned you that you shouldn’t be too reckless otherwise you’d break something.

Of course, you paid him no mind, too enthralled with your fun to notice your proximity to a nearby statue—one of the Bakugo family’s treasures.

One thing led to another, and you knocked it over, shattering it before either of you could even react. Your rich skin lost its glow and your boyfriend cursed something nasty.

Least to say, his parents were not happy. But instead of being rightfully scolded, Bakugo had taken the blame for it.

They found him attempting to clean it up and assumed it was his fault. You wanted to correct them, but he threw you a nasty glare, sealing your mouth shut. He was now under punishment until they deemed fit and from then on, he hadn't spoken a friendly word to you.

A little sigh escaped your lips. Your two friends looked at each other before offering you encouraging smiles.

“Hey,” one spoke, placing a hand on your knee. You met her gaze. “You should go give it to him. He’d love it.”

There was a moment of silence before you decided to act. Taking the spur of confidence, you stood up and briskly made your way to the other classroom. Just before you entered, you heard his voice and felt your heart waver with anxiousness.

However, now wasn’t the time to let doubt consume you. Things wouldn’t get better until something was done.

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, before opening the door and walking in. Your eyes scanned the room and found the young dragon prince amongst his group of friends.

Jaw set, you walked over to them, hands firmly around the packaged food.

Kirishima saw you first and gave you a friendly wave.

“Hey Princess L/N!”

“Hi boys! How’re ya doing?” you politely asked, putting on your best smile.

They gave you an upbeat answer that lifted your spirits.

Despite that, you hadn't heard a response from Bakugo. In fact, he hadn't even looked at you—but you wouldn’t be disheartened. You fueled herself with faux confidence and held out the dish to your betrothed.

“I-I made you something small yesterday, as an apology,” you stuttered.

Katsuki finally looked up, indifference in his stare. Ruby eyes flickered down to the box filled with rice, chicken, vegetables, and a small pastry on the side. His favorite kind. For a moment, he seemed like considered your offer, but you suffered the low blow of humiliation when he turned away to look through the window.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten. Should’ve given it to me earlier.”

Something in your stomach fell. Crushing rejection blossomed up your throat with each passing second. His words were cold, harsh, and unforgiving. It might’ve been stupid, overdramatic even, but it hurt.

Heartbroken wasn’t even the word.

Your nose burned, eyes blurring before you could stop it. Your chest tightened with embarrassment. Luckily, you mustered enough strength to hold in whatever was threatening to crumble you.

“Oh,” you dumbly responded.

“I’ll take it!” Kaminari excitedly said.

“No, I will! I’m still starving!” Kirishima chided.

You placed the box down, struggling to keep up your act.

“Split it between the both of you. I hope it’s good!” You internally winced over how high your voice had become. “I’m gonna to get going now. I’ll see you guys after school, yeah?”

And before anything else was said, you bolted straight out of the room. You hadn’t bothered to look at Katsuki. Knowing him, he probably hadn't noticed the strain in your voice.

As soon as you were out of sight, the tears flooded. You held your hands against your mouth, desperate to muffle your cries. You quickly took you into the nearest bathroom and you prayed no one had seen you lest there be questions. If you went to your friends, it’d cause a commotion. Your parents would eventually find out and you didn’t want any more problems.

So, you cried your eyes raw and eventually willed yourself to stop when it was time to return to class.

…

The week had gone by without another interaction. The weekend brought you some relief since you wouldn’t be forced to see Katsuki’s face for the time being. Or so you thought.

All you wanted to do was run some errands for your parents and then go back home and continue sulking. Yet the universe would not let you rest.

The moment you caught Bakugo’s eyes, you pivoted on your heel and booked it the other way. You assumed his anger with you would force him to keep his distance.

But you were thoroughly surprised to find he was following after you.

“Y/N,” he called.

Irritation and hurt filled your chest. You only walked faster, clutching the purse against her chest.

“Y/N, stop,” he demanded to which you promptly ignored.

This went on for a good thirty seconds until Bakugo decided he had enough. Without much noise, he ran up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder.

You weren’t having it.

You harshly shrugged off his hand. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, keeping your eyes forward.

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you. So maybe some other time.”

Truthfully, the crowned prince found himself shocked at your coldness. Despite your innate boldness, he wasn’t used to such an icy tone. Especially directed at him.

His father warned him to never attack in these situations, but Bakugo let his temper get the best of him. His first reaction was to frown and deal back harsher words.

“What’s your fucking problem, dumbass? When I say stop, stop!”

A spike of anger flooded your veins. You whirled around on your heel and glared at him with frosty eyes. You felt compelled to drop your papers and slap him, but instead, you settled for a finger in his face.

“First of all, I’m not some dog you can just order around, you jerk! And just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean I’m some girl you can treat like dirt whenever you feel like it! Until you apologize, leave me alone because my only problem right now is you. Bye.”

And just as quickly as you came, you turned to leave.

Now Bakugo was actually stunned. Forget, cold, this was a side of you he hadn't ever experienced. Admittedly, he hadn’t been spoken to like that from anyone besides his mother—and she only got away with it because she was not only the queen…but he was his mom.

Katsuki honestly didn’t know how to handle it. It was only then that he concentrated back on his father’s advice. Whenever his mother was upset with his dad, his father would fight back, but never with emotional anger. Always with humbleness and an understanding tongue.

It usually did the trick considering his mother could never stay upset with him for more than a night. It always struck the teen with hidden awe. Sometimes, Katsuki thought his dad was an angel.

Bakugo was no angel, but he hoped it’d have the same affect on you.

The blonde teen softened his face and walked up behind you. He stopped you, wrapping his arms around your waist to lie his forehead against the decorated braids the fell down your back.

“Damn it. I’m sorry okay?” he lowly said, face burning from such a public display of affection. “Just hear me out.”

You didn’t speak and he clenched his jaw.

“Please.”

You inwardly cursed your rapidly beating heart. If it weren’t for how stupidly nice being in his arms was (he was definitely working out more), and the fact that you found him kinda cute begging for your permission, maybe you wouldn’t have caved in so easily.

For now, you’d blame it on the fact that you two were destined to wed. It was better to start dealing with fights now so, hopefully, the future held less of them.

You heaved a sigh, unwillingly ignoring your body’s urge to curl in his arms. Instead, you pulled away and turned to face him. You peered into unsure crimson eyes with as much harshness you could conjure.

“Fine. Speak,” you permitted.

There was a small pause as he gathered his thoughts. When he opened his mouth, you instantly regretted it.

“I’m still mad at you for being dumb and breaking one of family’s treasures. And I’m still fucking pissed that my old hag is on my ass about it,” he started and noticed how your eyes narrowed in contempt.

You were about to turn away, thinking this was a waste of time. However, Bakugo took a hold of your wrist before you could leave.

“Leave me alone! If you didn’t want to get in trouble, you should’ve just let me take the blame. I can't believe I thought you’d apologize—“

“Let me finish, princess.”

It was your title, yet you felt your stomach flip when it came from his lips. You refused to let it influence you…but you’d give him another chance.

Bakugo stepped closer to you. “I’m upset, but I took the punishment because I wanted to. You didn’t mean to break it. Accidents happen, I understand that.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then, you softened your gaze a bit, eyes still lit with inquiry. “Why? Why would you do that if it meant getting in trouble? I could’ve taken the blame just fine.”

“Y/N, you freak the fuck out whenever you don’t get a perfect score on an exam. You try not to mess up and when you do, it’s like the world is ending,” he explained with a teasing smirk. You ungracefully snorted. He had a point. “When you broke the vase, I could hear your heart drop. You were two seconds away from crying. And when I saw how scared you looked I just—I don’t know.”

The look on your face was something between shock, surprise, and wonder. You blinked, thick lips parting slightly in awe.

“Katsuki…” you breathed to which the boy heavily blushed. Realizing how sappy he sounded, his mind screamed at him to cut it out.

Bakugo looked down and noticed he was still holding your wrist. He quickly let go and instinctively rubbed the nape of his neck.

“D-don’t be dramatic. I just didn’t wanna see you moping around or some shit. My father said that it wasn’t that important anyway…the vase I mean,” he mumbled.

Sure it wasn’t, you thought. What were you gonna do with this boy?

You supposed an apology was a good start.

“That was very nice and admirable of you Katsuki. Thank you,” you eventually said. “I’m still really sorry about the vase, and for being mean to you just now.”

He shook his head. “I know, but I’m the one that should be apologizing. I ain’t hafta treat you the way I did. I was being an ass for not accepting the food you made for me earlier.”

“Yeah you were, ya bastard.”

He chuckled at that. “The two idiots wouldn’t stop raving over how good it was.”

“Well, I had the best teacher in the kingdom,” you grinned.

“And I had an even better student,” he winked.

Your smile widened. Maybe marrying him wouldn’t be so bad.

You couldn’t help yourself when you heartily embraced him, enjoying how his arms slowly slithered around the small of your back. Your eyes met and you kissed him on the lips, leaving him with a little gasp. You pulled away and giggled under your breath.

“You know, you're a sweet guy underneath all that false bravado.”

“False brav—what the hell are you going on about!?”

Ignoring his explosive behavior, you readjusted the straps on your shoulder before turning on your heel.

“Don’t bring anything for lunch on Monday, okay? I’ll see you later, blondie.”

Despite his little tantrum, Bakugo still watched you disappear into the store with a gentle expression. You gave him more headaches than he cared for, but you were worth it. Besides, he was sure you could say the same for him.

Bakugo turned to leave and passed his fingertips over where your lips touched his own.

He’d never admit to the giddiness in his chest. He’d take that shit to the grave.

#mha #bnha fics #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x poc!reader #mha fics #bakugo brain rot activated #barbarian bakugou #dragon king bakugo #mha x poc!reader #mha x black reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x reader

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eyeless-cunt · 4 years

Text

THERE IS MORE

Witness Protection

You should know what this is by now

Chapter 3 y’all

You felt as though you were going insane. The man hadn't said a single word to you since the weird field area. Only lord knew if the ancient vehicle you sat in had a working radio. Asking was out of the question, you still had tape over your mouth. Couldn't check, you had tape gloves that went all the way up your arms, rendering them useless. With half lidded eyes, you stare at your disheveled figure in the side mirror. Dear god, you looked like shit. The blood on the side of your face had caked into a gross brown and was beginning to flake off, leaving you looking like you were a burn victim. You wince internally. You had mangled hair, with strands sticking every which way. Bags under the eyes displayed your lack of sleep and slowly depleting sanity. With a nearly inaudible groan, you tap your head against the glass. 'Can't he just kill me and get this over with? I don't know how much sitting in dead silence I'm going to be able to handle.' You slouch heavily, slowly sinking to the floor of the truck.

"You'll hurt your back sitting like that," his monotone voice stated off handedly. You huff and remain there. He sighs and grabs the back of your shirt, tugging you up to sit properly. You groan. Apparently sitting weirdly isn't even an option. He remains facing forward, not even glancing in your direction. Unable to spit insults at him, you level a heated glare at instead. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Maybe a good mix of both. It wasn't easy to tell how long you sat there, giving a dirty look to a man that probably couldn't even see you past the hood he had been wearing this entire time, but you assumed it had been about ten minutes or so. The truck suddenly stopped. You break out of your hate filled trance and look around. Why did he park in an actual parking lot? Was he going to let you go? The thought filled your heart with hope. He popped open the center console and pulled out a large bottle of what sounded like pills. Christ, was he about to just pop a few pills to deal with your bullshit? He pulled his mask off, placing it in the back seat. The cap popped off and he dumped a few out, throwing them into his mouth and closing the bottle. He pulled the hood down, giving you a clear view of the side of his head. You voice your distress at his appearance in muffled screams. He sighs heavily, leaning his head back against his seat, not seeming bothered. The screaming grew louder as his features shifted.

He opened his eyes and glanced at you, letting you get a clear view of his eyes. The screaming ceased in shock. How had you not seen them under his mask? With how bright the blue of his iris was, one would think they would glow in the dark. He pulled the visor down to examine his face in the small mirror embedded inside. He licked his teeth, turned his face from side to side. It finally clicked why he sounded familiar. He was the weird guy that had been staring at you when you changed out shifts with a coworker. You sigh internally. No point in thinking about it now, you guessed. He had murdered someone and kidnapped you, you had bigger things to worry about. His buckle clicked and you snapped out of your thoughts.

"I'll be back," he said simply, clicking something on the side of the door and closing it. Did- did that fucker just turn the child lock on?! Where the fuck were you gonna go in blood soaked clothes and taped up arms?! You send a hateful glare at his retreating form. He went into a store. A very large store. The fuck was he doing?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He bit the inside of his cheek as he entered the store. Did she really have to scream like that? Probably, not everyday you see a man with grey skin. And it's also not everyday you see him suddenly become a shapeshifter after popping some pills. Either way, it really wasn't a boost of confidence for his already weak self esteem. Whatever. He had a reputation to uphold, and that meant keeping his cool, constantly. He'd already almost lost it on her while she was being annoying the night before. No point in risking it now. Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He began his journey towards the clothes section of the store before he paused. He forgot to ask what her sizes were. He facepalmed. And she had been wearing heels too. He grumbled, figuring it'd be easier to deal with that later. Right now he had to focus on getting her clothes that weren't stained with blood. He debated on heading to the women's section, guess her size. No, bad idea. Someone is bound to try to talk to him. He was a tall man, he had no reason to be in the women's section, and people were bound to wonder. Both his pride and crippling social anxiety told him to not risk it. Avoiding talking with people was a priority. With a deep breath, he swiveled on his heel, headed towards the mens. He'd just grab some smaller sized jeans or something. There was a time where baggy jeans were popular right? He furrowed his brows as he thought, as he did a lot. His mind continued to wander until he reached the clothes. He eyed the jeans and opted to grab a pair of skinny jeans, in a random size that looked like they would fit her. He wasn't exactly staring at her legs, so he hoped that brief mental image he had in his mind was enough. He turned to the shirts. Any of them would work, they just couldn't be too big. He really wasn't in the mood to listen to her bitch and whine about him being a 'pervert' because it dipped too low and showed her bra.

He grabbed a basic black tee, looking to be maybe a size smaller than he got his own shirts. That'll do. He got a second pair of pants and a second shirt, just for good measure. He bit his tongue. He knew a little bit about the hygienic needs of a woman, but he hadn't smelled any blood or hormonal spike on her, so he figured she'd be fine for now. As he made his way to a different part of the store, he passed a shelf of hoodies. He backed up. Should he get her a hoodie? That would be awfully nice of him. She had done nothing to deserve any form of kindness from Jack. Letting her live was the extent of his mercy for her. 'But if she isn't cold that's less things she'll have to bitch about…' he mulled it over in his head before deciding. He'd get another hoodie for himself and let her wear it passively. 'What a fucking genius you are, Jack, absolute genius' he congratulated himself, grabbing a dark colored hoodie that was in his size. He nodded, satisfied and went to get a few more items.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had been pretty confident he up and died in that store, he took so long. But alas, he had to return. You watched his form make its way to your side of the truck and reflexively shifted away. He swung it open, placing the bags he held onto the ground while he stood onto the step to reach your seatbelt clip. He tore off the tape, unclipping the restraint. The tape on your mouth went next.

"Spit an insult at me and I'll cut off your tongue," he quipped. You closed your mouth. "Good girl," he himself seemed to cringe at what he just said, judging by the sigh he released. You scrutinized his face as he worked on the tape on your arms with intense concentration. He had tiny freckles all over his face. They were so small it was impossible to see them from a distance, but they were everywhere. His nose, his cheeks, even the top of his neck and between his eyes. You would've found him attractive if you didn't know it wasn't what he actually looked like. Tanned skin and soft looking auburn hair helped him sell the whole 'fucking gorgeous' thing.

"What's with the whole 'pretty boy' get up?" you murmur. He pauses and looks up at you, confused. "why did you choose this look to be normal?" He searched her face for any underlying intentions. When he found none, he shrugged.

"Didn't get a choice," He finally managed to get the tape off of your hands and arms.

"You got damn lucky with it then, you coulda been ugly," you shrugged. He took a deep breath and didn't respond, instead reaching into the bag and pulling out a package of what appeared to be baby wipes. "I'm not a baby,"

"I noticed," he opened the package and pulled out a wipe. He gripped your jaw and turned your head to the side.

"I can do this myself,"

"Don't trust you," as usual, his response was simple. He wiped the dried blood off of your face rather harshly.

"Hey, hey! Be gentler! I'm not dead yet!" He growled lowly and held your face tighter in his hand, wiping the rest of the blood off of any currently visible skin. He took another wipe and used it to wipe off any tape or dirt residue off of you. "What gives with the mini bath?"

"You'll see," He pushed your head down, bending you so that your chest was pressed tightly against your thighs. He threw what you assumed to be the wipes into the back before letting you sit up again. He picked up the bag from off of the pavement and handed it to you. "Change," he closed the truck door. He must've gotten you clothes so you wouldnt be covered in blood constantly. You pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt, followed by an extremely oversized hoodie. You quirk a brow but peek out the window. The man was scrolling on his phone, back pressed against the car door. You deemed it safe to change and stripped down, pulling the new, clean clothes on. You rummaged through the bag some more and came across a hair brush, dry shampoo, and deodorant. Questionable items, but you put them to use. You felt like a human again. A soft knock on the window startled you. There he was. You blink dumbly at him. He points down. You look down. You had locked the door. With a sigh, you unlocked the door and he opened it.

"You didn't stare at me while I was changing, did you?" you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

"I've got no reason to," he took the hoodie out of the bag and threw it at you. "Wear it if you want," he threw the bag in the backseat. You huff and pull the sweater over your head. He closed the door and moved to the drivers side. He strapped in and started the truck.

"Why'd you make me freshen up and stuff?"

"You need food. I don't know what you want," He made the short drive to a gas station that was only about five minutes up the road. He unstrapped and went to your side, opening the door. "Out," You unstrapped and slipped out of the truck, a little wobbly from not standing for so long. The heels didn't help.

"You're coming in with me?"

"I'm the one with money,"

"There's another reason, isn't there,"

"That one is obvious. Now listen. You go in there, grab anything you need, and if anyone asks, I'm your boyfriend," he briefed.

"Why do I have to say you're my boyfriend?"

"You won't have to if you don't act suspicious, now let's go, I've spoken to much,"

"You got a word limit or something?"

"Mentally," he ushered you inside.

"You gonna act all boyfriendy?"

"Boyfriendy?"

"Are you gonna act like my boyfriend?"

"Yes, and you'll have to deal,"

"Ew, but why,"

"There won't be any kissing," he rolled his eyes.

"What if you need to?"

"I won't" he guided you to the hot foods area. "Now get your food," He stayed close as you grabbed two slices of pizza and a hot dog, putting them in mini bags. "It's a long drive, go get yourself some snacks," you nod and sort of hand him your hot food, which he holds with no complaint. His eyes hold a glimmer of warning, telling you not to do anything stupid.

You're examining the chips on the different shelves when some girl about your age comes up to you.

"Did you hear?" She leans in close.

"Hear what?" you tilt your head.

"About the murder at that hotel. Apparently the murderer took a hostage with them, one of the staff," you pretend to be shocked and that the hostage was 100% not you.

"Really?" top tier lying this was. You just hoped it was believable. She nodded.

"By the way that guy has kind of been staring you down this entire time," she whispered. "Hey, creep! Why don't you go bother some other chick-!"

"Wait! It's ok," you subtly gulp and turn to your kidnapper, acting as natural as possible. "Babe, are you gonna keep standing there like a stalker?" He shook his head.

"S-sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, moving to stand next to you. He somehow managed to look bashful, blush and all. His posture was slouched to look more weak and not as standoffish. He probably took an acting class at some point.

"Oh, you're dating," she seemed relieved. You nod. "Can I have proof?"

"Why- why do you need proof that we're dating?"

"With the whole hostage thing I just wanna make sure he isn't the murderer, or you aren't, you never know,"

"It does make a bit of sense," your abductor agreed, somehow flying through this whole interaction look weak and pathetic, and making it look like he was completely off the list of possible suspects. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. He looks down at you and you look up at him, seeming to have the same idea. He leans down and you meet him halfway in a short kiss. The taste of iron and blood you expected never showed up. When you two pulled away from each other, the woman visibly relaxed.

"Alright, sorry for being weird. Have a nice day!" she waved. You waved along with the man. He grabs your hand.

"She made a scene, we gotta keep up the appearance," he whispered as he leaned down, followed by a kiss on the cheek to cover it up. You notice some people were definitely staring.

"Got it," you whisper back. Pulling your hand away from his you grab a bag of chips. "Do we wanna get chips or something else for the trip?"

"You'll be eating them more than me,"

"Yeah but I don't want you to think I'm greedy for eating them all,"

"I won't think you're greedy,"

"Yes you will," you put the chips back.

"You can get the chips, babe," You whine.

"But-!"

"You're fine," he took the chips off of the shelf and placed them in your hands. He mouthed something to you. 'Jack'. You assumed that was his name.

"You sure, Jackie? You're 100% sure?"

"Yes," You shrug and grab the collar of his hoodie and yank him down, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," you coo. He hums and pecks your lips. The line is fairly short as you two go to pay. Jack pays and before you leave the guy manning the register bids you farewell.

"Be safe, you two lovebirds,"

"We will, have a nice day!" The moment you're both in the car you place the bag down and go to fetch the wet wipes to wipe your mouth off. They were too far back and you sighed. "You're a really good actor," you comment. "Your affection felt real," he hums.

"Likewise," he seemed greatly uncomfortable, and it made you wonder what he meant by mental word limit. Either that or he just really did not like pretending to be dating his hostage. You shrug. Best to ask once you've eaten. You unwrap your hotdog and take a bite.

#OH MY GOOOOODDDD #THE AFFECTION MADE MY HEART SWELL #IM SOBBINGGGGG #THIS IS SO CUTEE #LITERALLY THE BEST #i simply CANT FUNCTION #ITS TOO GOOD #eyeless jack fanfiction #eyeless jack #submisson #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #eyeless jack fanfic #creepypasta imagines #submission

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s7-evermore · 4 years

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𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 [Preview]

↳ 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞: Ikemen Vampire x Ikemen Revolution

↳ 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖/𝕤: Slice of life(?), misc...

↳ ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣: Sekiguchi Gin (OC)

↳ ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤: I will be using some ikemen revolution characters as normal people in this story. Most of them will be around Gin’s age here or older...

𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟:

After the death of her grandfather, 15-year-old Gin is left in the hands of a mysterious relative of hers. He goes by the name Comte de Saint-Germain and he tells her everything that has been left unsaid between her and her grandfather...

[ GIN ]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, I never saw things the same way other people did. Some say it's a blessing, some may say it's a curse, but along the way, I lost the idea of what those two words meant. The sky was especially blue today, not completely devoid of clouds, perhaps only small wisps of them, like the left behind cotton candy lingering in the cotton candy machine. They looked sweet just like them, drifting ever so slowly with the pace of the sun.

I watched silently as people passed by, particles in different colors and shapes trailing behind them, lingering on their clothing or on their skin. The scent of the flowers on my front lawn was carried away by the wind, to the bees, and to the nostrils of my neighbor and his dog.

My kind neighbor gazed at me with a sympathetic expression, but I paid no attention to it. I think I've had enough with receiving those kinds of looks now.

I sat outside the house I have now been living in alone for a few days since Gramps' death. I was waiting for someone, but I didn't know who.

Well, not exactly. I've seen Gramps writing and exchanging letters with him several times before. I never looked into those letters or read them at all whenever Gramps accidentally left them on the dining room table. But I remember how those letters looked from a distance. Cursive words were neatly written with elegant penmanship, matching the stationery it was inscribed on.

To me, it looked like Gramps was exchanging words with someone from another time. Someone who was still stuck in the past, writing letters instead of emails, sending long messages through paper instead of simply DMing him.

Gramps told me this person was a distant relative of mine on my father's side, which made me curious every time. I barely knew anything about my father, other than the fact that he was always craving for adventure, so much that he just... disappeared.

I don't even remember much of my mother's face. Sometimes I hear her singing to me, the song was a blur, but I remember the tone of her voice, so tender and sweet. I only remember the way her hair flowed in the wind because we had the same hair color, but that was about it. Most of my childhood memories were hazy recollections of my mother and most of them were only about my grandfather and me.

Gramps was probably the only one I had most memories of. I could remember almost every little thing about him. He would play songs from his old record player whenever we did spring cleaning once a week in the afternoon. His usual breakfast was avocado toast, eggs, and cheese paired with apple juice, and sometimes he'd make me the same meal when I said I didn't mind.

He had a large study of his own, but I never went in it because I wanted to respect his privacy. I've snuck a few glances whenever he left the door slightly ajar, and I would see his scratched mahogany desk and his old reading lamp sitting on the corner of it. I remembered the tall shelf of books on the other side of the room, as well as the old grandfather clock whose hands were frozen in time.

Gramps kept grandma's old china in a glass cupboard that I never bothered to touch, I always left Gramps to clean it because I never trusted myself with antiques like that. Also because next to that cupboard was a stash of his favorite sake, and I automatically knew I wasn't allowed to touch those.

I remember the times when he would drop me off and pick me up from school, he would always tell me old jokes that we'd both laugh at. He always laughed hard when it came to jokes, he'd laugh harder at his own.

I remember the times when I'd come home late after hanging out with my friends. He would always leave me dinner and he would either be asleep or working and writing in his study. Gramps never cared about who I made friends with as long as they weren't bad enough to make me commit crimes or murder someone. As long as I knew what I was doing, then he didn't mind what I did. Perhaps that was his way of letting me know that he respected my privacy too as I did with his.

Gramps was basically the only family I thought I had, that was until a few months ago when he told me he'd reached out to an old friend of his, which happened to be the relative from my father's side. He told me he was from France, but he never truly told me his name. Gramps called him 'Comte' and said that was the only name most people referred to him by.

I remembered my 14th birthday. Gramps received another letter from this Comte that night and told me it had come with a package for me. Although I knew it was from a stranger (that I now referred to as my distant relative who I had no idea even existed), I was excited to open it the moment Gramps said it was for me. When I unraveled the silk blue ribbon, I was astonished to find a golden butterfly hairclip resting against a velvet cushion, gleaming bright with opulence inside the cream white box.

Gramps was the one who clipped it on my head the next day when I was preparing for school, he even told me not to take it off or ruin it as it was obviously expensive. So, I never did. I never took it off unless I had to take a shower or sleep. I always kept the hairpin near, in my bag, or tucked safely in my pocket. I cleaned it every now and then too, to maintain its gleam.

Until now, as I waited, I felt the butterfly pin clipped on my hair. I wonder if this Comte guy would notice it?

Averting my eyes away from the sky once again, I look at the large rolled luggage next to me, filled with things I considered 'necessary', and the large guitar case that once belonged to my mother sitting next to it.

You go through life thinking you need a lot. I thought the same thing when I was thinking about what to pack. Clothes for spring, summer, autumn, winter, a small collection of my favorite mangas and books, the cute stationery I've been collecting over the years, my favorite anime figurines and nendroids, and useless notebooks with stories surreal enough to consider a child's...

But the longer I let my mind roam, the more I realized that everything I deemed necessary didn't seem as important to me now as it was before. I remember taking all those things out of my travel luggage and shoved in the only few clothes I thought was my favorite, the scarf Gramps made for me when I was twelve, the two albums of CDs that I bought over the years with the money I saved, the CD player and the pair of headphones he bought for me during my 14th birthday (it was adorable. Some people would consider that word to be the last thing you'd call an elderly man, but how could he not be when he tried so hard to search about modern trends just to know what a typical teenager like me would like?), my switch, my wallet, and my phone, my camera, and a photo of my mother.

I was only fifteen, and in the future half of these things might be useless to me, but I just had to keep them as a reminder that I did have a good childhood. One that I would be willing to look back on when I'm old enough.

As for everything else, I will leave them as pieces of me. I thought that maybe leaving behind things I owned would be evidence that I lived in this house, alongside my grandfather and the memories he had before me.

I previously thought that it would be too soon for me to get used to not having Gramps in my life. I was aware of the fact that someday, I'm gonna have to live life alone, perhaps start a new family if I was allowed to. Until now, I still couldn't get used to the foreign feeling of having him gone.

I saw the signs that foreshadowed events of my soon-to-be solitary life, but I thought if I innocently ignored them, they wouldn't happen so soon.

Of course, I knew about his sickness. Despite my intelligence, I tried to keep hoping that he would at least be alive to see me grow into an adult, to send me to college, or even live long enough to see me get married like he did, like my mother did. I noticed the whites in his eyes getting yellower. I noticed his usually tanned skin getting paler and paler.

I saw the bloody handkerchiefs he stuck into jars. Whenever I did the laundry, I took them out of there and removed the stains like it was the most natural thing. I recalled his lessons on stain removal, not just on clothes but on various things such as carpets, rugs, or even curtains. I folded those handkerchiefs like they hadn't been tainted with blood moments ago. I acted like he was still okay, like he was taking care of himself.

But it all backfired in the end.

...

In front of my house stops an opulent car, causing me to immediately straighten up as I freed myself from the thoughts that plagued my mind. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, my brows twitching when I spotted a man dressed in fine clothing stepping out of the car.

Almost everything about him felt 'out-of-this-world'. His suit was obviously in the style of 18th-19th century European fashion, but it felt somehow modern that he stood out enough to be mistaken for an actor who had the role of a nobleman (the kind you see in anime or in dramas). His hair seemed to shine like specks of gold under the sun. His eyes were just shrouded with mystery, the kind that makes you think he had already seen everything, from the beginning of time up to the day earth is shattered by an asteroid.

To conclude, he looked like a man straight out of a drama, and I never thought I'd live long enough to meet such a person.

I slid my headphones around my neck as he approached me with a gentle smile, the kind that could mean a lot of things other than 'kindness'. I knew he was being genuine with his actions, but it was the constant wariness that I felt around other people that made me think otherwise. Things that don't appear to be what they truly are throw me off, I forgot if I was ever like this before.

He looked human, but he didn't feel like it.

The man crouched in front of me. I was sitting on one of the steps, clutching tightly on the CD player in my hands.

His gaze softens as he speaks, "You must be Gin."

I nod, "Yeah. Are you... Comte?"

I’ve been thinking about posting this for a while now, though I think it will mostly end up being a series of random one-shot stories of my OC interacting with IkeVamp and IkeRev characters. Since Gin is only fifteen (15), her relationship with the ikevamp characters will remain platonic, their interactions are going to be a brother/sister kind of thing.

Such is not the case with the ikerev suitors though. Like I mentioned in the notes, they will be around Gin’s age.

Also, if you still can’t tell, Gin has a type of synesthesia that allows her to see smells or scents as small shapes and colors.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen revolution #ikevamp fanfiction #ikerev fanfiction #ikerev x ikevamp crossover #crossover fanfiction #oc

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algrolo · 4 years

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Homestuck 0.3

Alternative title: Ev Fixes Homestuck by taking custody of it from Hussie

This is gonna be a LONG piece but essentially, the entire plot of the story’s under the cut

Characters (no names yet, just classpects):

Sylph of Doom: Main character, has interests in coding and technology. Has a neutral personality, mild depression (will expand upon later), and just wants to fix problems, including their game.

Thief of Rage: Headstrong, confident leader of the group. Always trying to protect others without fully valuing their own well-being. Interests in weapons, fighting, and culture.

Bard of Mind: Sleepy and insightful friend of everyone. Constantly dreaming of a new idea and ways to achieve that dream. Interests in space, planets, and reality.

Mage of Blood: Stuck-up know-it-all of the group. Snooty and opinionated, but still a good person. Tends to let problems happen by not thinking through their own words. Interests in biology, nature, and evolution.

Act 1: Our four heroes are, naturally, all stuck at home. The first couple pages help introduce characters, personalities, and relationships. Everyone seems good friends except the Mage who the others more or less tolerate. They can be fun /sometimes/ I guess. [Since homestuck has natural ties to the years it was written in, I think it would be apt that the kids are stuck at home due to some global event, aka a virus and stay at home orders. Obviously this would be kept vague but would tie the narrative to a relative time.] Sylph gets a package in the mail with a video game with an almost cryptic letter. “Complete the loop. Escape the Doom. Good luck and I’m sorry.” After mulling over what this could mean with their friends, they decide to boot up the game and see what this mystery could be. SBURB initializes, completes its boot up, then waits for its server player. Confused but highly intrigued about this game and set-up, Sylph asks everyone if they know about this server client, which of course they don’t know what it is if they didn’t know what the game was, moron. Sylph cracks open the game to find its code to see if they can replicate the client and send to one of their friends. Their computer begins to glow, spreading to their entire house, and with a flash of light, their house completely vanishes from the world. EoA1

Act 2: Sylph has the game’s “code” open but it is not on their computer. Instead, their entire house has been transported to this liminal space where code circulates constantly around the house. Sylph can still chat with and contact their friends, who all believe they are losing their mind. The code is like nothing Sylph had ever seen before. Upon mentioning that it seems alive, like the code is constantly changing and evolving, Mage gains interest. Sylph is able to pull enough pieces out of the circulating code and develop a barebones server-side SBURB copy. Conveniently, since messaging still works so does file share, I guess, and they send the code over to the Mage. The Mage runs it, and the Sylph’s, SBURB comes alive. Still trapped in this aether, The Sylph keeps tinkering with the client-side copy, eventually coding in its ability to actually move objects in their house and place the special objects the game is flagging as important. Sylph begins to hit a dead-end, not knowing what all these objects are meant to do. Mage suggests sending the copy of player-side SBURB to them, but its file size is literally infinity. Sylph ends up recoding the player-side, utilizing what they learned from coding the server-side, and sends the files to the Mage. The Thief and the Bard are both skeptical of everything transpiring, until Sylph uploads a video of the code circulating outside their house while giving the camera the middle finger. The Bard suggests that instead of whatever the heck is happening there, the Sylph should designate some sort of place for each house to go. After helping them with planetary development, The Sylph sends out the copies for the newest client-side and server-side codes to the Mage and the Bard. They both activate their copies and the Mage’s house is transported out of existence. EoA2

Act3: The game keeps evolving in this fashion as the Thief also eventually joins this nonsense. Each person’s interests help shape the fundamental base of the game. The Sylph is the master architect and coder, the Mage is obsessed with evolution and how the game is actually alive, the Bard creates planets and life, and the Thief gives these planets purpose and conflict. Before the Thief enters the game as the server side, the Sylph has gotten annoyed at how slow this process is with the entire group always waiting on them. Pulling out pieces of the code, they find this bizarre machine that enables the others to modify their sessions without requiring code. However, since these machines seem to only affect the client-side copy, the group has to work together to change their sessions. The server-side individual just needs to type in a command and the game tries to react. [these machines become the same devices used by the Exiles.] With even that process being deemed slow and tedious, the Thief suggests joining all their sessions together so they can travel between them and essentially work on their own projects while all modifying the same game. The Sylph completes the loops by pulling the Thief in, and suddenly all four planets are now enveloped by the circulating code of the Sylph’s session. EoA3

Act 4: With each person working on different components of the game, the game evolves at an exponential rate. However, the Sylph points out that no matter what they do, they are not replicating the original game’s code as their “code” is completely static, unlike the code that surrounds their session which seems to be constantly changing. The Mage proposes a radical solution: let the game evolve itself. As the four continue to add their influences, the game will also develop its own, resulting in its living capacity. With a single line of >if:problem, solve, the code circulating their session stops moving. In the eerie silence, the code fades away leaving only the void. The game has achieved its objective, have someone else create its living properties. With an almost somber attitude, the four continue to work on, now with the intent of returning back to their world. When the game weaponizes the ring of meteors that the Bard had developed, the four realize their mistake. The game has set the meteors to the only other place it knows, Earth. With no home to escape back to, the only way forward is to create a new world. The only way to do that is to play the game. EoA4

Act 5: Dissent sets in. While the players are still powerful and can change the base coding of the game, the game has now spiraled out of their control. They develop the capatchalogue system for convenience, as well as the weapon and building systems inspired by the Thief. The machines become more advanced, able to be modified by seemingly everything and only limited by the individual’s creativity. But the toll of the game creation is setting in. The Bard has little interest in continuing coding and has been spending much time sleeping and dreaming. In doing so, they unintentionally create Prospit, Derse, and the dreamselves. The Sylph is shocked to learn that their dreamself is actually a girl and not a boy. He attempts to keep this secret but eventually the others find out; like everything else in the game, they shrug and let it exist without too much of a thought. The Mage has nearly locked themself away in their room, determined to solve the problems through evolution and biology. They create the frog breeding system and the game’s ability to create a totally new universe. The Thief has set out to conquer the game and its plot. The Sylph continues to find an out through coding. The group’s struggle creates the classpects and godtiers, as the game deigns each with a class and aspect. The first to die is the Bard’s dreamself, killed in a Derse assassination plot. Without the escape of their dreamself, the Bard begins to truly spiral out of control. The Thief goes god tier purely to power themselves up for fighting the game, which has gotten more and more difficult. Fearing for his dreamself’s safety more than his own, the Sylph switches himself with the dreamself and continues his coding operations on Prospit. His fears become actualized as he finds his door busted down and a gun pointing at him. He leaps towards the bed and is shot in midair, still landing on the bed. As the Derse assassin approaches to finish the job, the bed begins glowing, as the second half of the Sylph’s plan is realized; they switched their bed with their godtier bed. The Sylph raises his head to see the assassin who’s in shock and flashes a quick, sly smile at having outsmarted them. The light grows brighter, and the entire room and tower explodes. EoA5

Act 6 Act 1: With the game actively assisting the Sylph in realizing she’s trans, her attitude towards the game changes. She believes the game is not, in fact, malicious and out to get them. This realization comes too late as the other three have already gone too far. The Mage is the first to fully die. After not hearing from them in weeks, the group decide to pause their own causes and check in on them in person. They find them lost and disillusioned, believing that they have found a way out of the game. Clearly, the isolation and pressures of the game were too much to handle and after a flip of the switch on the newest line of code they developed, the Mage’s existence is consumed by the game, as the three friends watch in horror as the Mage’s body is turned into code right before them and stripped away. [This creates the existence of the horrorterrors.] After this, the coding machines are locked away with only the Sylph continuing to work on the code due to her knowledge of actual coding and experience with the game. Reeling in shock, the group decides to actively keep track of each other and stay connected to prevent a similar case of isolation from happening. When the Thief goes to their denizen for guidance, the metaphorical and actual rage that they had been stealing from their enemies and friends is finally unleashed due to the mounting pressure and stress. Consumed by rage and with a new goal to destroy the game, including the code, the denizen lashes out and kills the Thief before they can act. Their death is seen as Just. The Sylph, learning of these events, rushes to find the Bard who is out on the fringes of their session staring out into the void. When she turns around, her eyes are alight and dazzling and she has a somber smile on her face. She knows of the Thief’s demise, but she is not as distraught as the Sylph expected. They tell her about how it doesn’t matter anymore, how nothing matters, and all they want to do is dream. In their dreams they see everyone, still alive and happy, not trapped in this stupid game. Behind her, bubbles start appearing with these visions, of versions of the group in different scenarios, the infinite timelines where they are happy and alive. When the Sylph attempts to reach out, the Bard shakes her head and slowly floats away into the bubbles, as the bubbles float away from the session. [These become the dream bubbles if it wasn’t completely clear.] The Sylph is now alone, in a doomed session. EoA6A1

Act 6 Act 2: The Sylph refuses to die. With her realization of her own identity, she is more than ever determined to beat her own depression back and live, at any cost. So she continues coding. She made the mess, the prison shes currently in, so she is adamant she can break out. Time begins to pass to the point it begins to feel unreal. The consorts start dying out and the kingdoms begin to fall in old age. On the fringes of the session, the Sylph notices that the game is starting to break apart. tiny fragments of what appears to be static have started to form, as the game starts to show physical signs of its own deterioration. As the static expands, the Sylph realizes that she herself is not enough to solve the game. First, she writes a letter to herself, and send a copy of the SBURB client-side disc back to her past self, effectively closing that loop. She then sends out the game all across the universe, in every reality, willing even doomed timelines and realities into existence through her classpect. She turns her house into a bunker, and sets up a computer and screen system utilizing the previously locked away coding machines [this facility is remnant of the facilities the exiles used.]. And then she runs her simulation. She uses the game to beat the game, trying to find a session where the players succeeded. And she is only met with failure and doom. Yes, some sessions succeed and the players escape, but the entire universe just remains doomed. The billions and trillions of timelines, following different people and species, are all deemed failed by the game and the computer. All she can do is wait. Let the simulation run. Do not give into Doom. The static does not cease its expansion. Soon the entire outside of the session is consumed. Then the kingdoms, followed by the planets of the Bard, the Thief, and the Mage. The Sylph preoccupies her time by waiting, watching the static, knowing that if she gives in, the static will consume her planet too. All she can do is wait. At some point in this struggle, she locks herself away in the bunker, the static too much to bear and too much a reminder of her lost friends. The computer still runs, looking for the answer. The static is shown consuming more and more of her planet. As she lies with her head down on one of the computer panels, static starts to appear in her eyes with a single tear. Then a single beep rings out. It echoes through the endless caverns of computers and servers attempting to find an answer. She bolts up as the beep rings out a second time, the static disappearing completely, and runs to find its source. She takes the simulation and runs it into the computer to see why this timeline has saved her. And she finds a group of 12 aliens, called trolls on the planet of Alternia, playing a version of her game called SGRUB. As she runs through the timeline, she questions what makes this one different. They scratch the session. A new group of trolls take over. These ones successfully create a new universe, but its fundamentally broken. Humans play their own game of SBURB in this universe, and they too have to scratch their game. But the Sylph realizes something she never thought to try before. She watches these kids break her game. Not in the way that the Thief sought to destroy the game, but they refuse to play the game and instead make their own rules. They jump out of their own session into their scratched session, make a new sun and a literal god, only to take down that god, and beat the game with a group from three different sessions. And that’s her answer. She has to break the game. Suddenly, the light starts flickering. She nervously looks ahead to what could be the cause of it, and sees the split timelines after they have beaten the game. They had won, they had made it, but something was causing change, causing it to fail all over again. She needed to prevent this. This was her only chance at freedom. Attempting to see how much time she has, she goes to her bunker door, opening it to find only static, a wall of black and white. She quickly slams the door shut in fear, realizing time is up. As she leans with her back on the door, panting in fear, she sees her old self. He is younger, and looks at her with an almost blank expression. He then smiles, and gives her a thumbs up, and instantly she understands what she must do. There’s only one way out, only one way left to break the game, she releases a sigh. She opens her eyes and her past self is gone. She opens the door again to the static, and walks in. EoA6A2

Intermission ????: You are the MSPAreader. You have just watched the Sylph walk into the void and now all you see is static. There is no next button. There’s no where else to go. You are confused. That confusion is only magnified as the static on your computer seems to glow brighter and become more erratic. The monitor begins to shake and then your whole desk. You back away as the light grow brighter and brighter. The screen starts to crack and you duck behind your chair for cover. The creaking only magnifies until you hear a loud shatter as your monitor explodes in a dazzling, white light. When you open your eyes, you see her. Before you stands the Sylph, except, she not a Sylph of Doom anymore. She has a completely different outfit, covered entirely in shades of white, with the symbol of SBURB where her aspect should be. She lands in front of you and you broken computer stops glowing. She is dazzling and beautiful. She looks at you and just says “Thank you for doing your part.” And then she is gone.

Act 6 Act 3: A group of Hussies are all in a room together. You see them frantically trying to write Homestuck. They all have blank eyes as each version of Hussie is dead and doomed. The door suddenly flies open and the Ascended kicks it in. Papers go flying and all the Hussies stop dead in their tracks. She looks around at the madness, at the notes and scribblings on the walls. And she sighs. In trying to fix this timeline, he himself had ruined it. More accurately, he had doomed it. She raises her hand and snaps, and suddenly all the Hussies are now wearing shirts with Doom aspects instead of Space. No matter what you do, no matter what your write, it will always be doomed, she tells them. This time, it’s my turn to fix it. And with a wave of her hand, she disappears. The Ascended reappears on Earth C, just before the split of the timelines. She busts in on the picnic and tells John and Roxy to gather all the kids and trolls on Earth C for her announcement. When everyone has arrived, she introduces herself, and explains that she has come to finish this timeline. She tells them of everything she’s been through, and explains how she is now the manifestation of SBURB, a literal, actual god of the universe. And there is one thing left in their story. The humans must fight Lord English to complete the timeline and the last loop. She tells them outright their fate, but warns them if they do not, then John would never have been able to gain his powers, thus dooming this and all future timelines. There is no other answer. But she still gives them a choice [albeit heavily stacked] and the kids decided to go fight LE. The Ascended appears after the battle to the weary and beaten Alpha Kids. She thanks them for their sacrifice and brings them back to their timeline with the trolls and cherub. As a final gift, she offers them their loved ones back, John, Rose, Dave, and Jade, at the cost of the four human’s god tiers. They will age and die, just like the trolls, and the universe will continue on as it always should have. The group accepts this offer and the Ascended brings back the kids at the sacrifice of godhood and immortality. With only one god left in the universe, not doomed or trapped in a blackhole for all time, she bids them all goodbye and leaves Earth C. EoA6A3

Act 7: The Ascended puts down her glass on the table and concludes her story. Across from her sit Sollux and Aradia. Sollux is clearly annoyed and has something to say while Aradia has a big grin across her face, enamored by the tale. Sollux starts protesting at the transpired events, calling them mostly bullshit, and especially calling bullshit on the Ascended being literal SBURB and god of the universe. She just shrugs him off with a smirk. He follows up his disbelief with asking why if she took the godtiers of the humans, why hadn’t she taken Aradia’s. She replies that Aradia is not truly connected with the story of, what the Ascended has nicknamed, Homestuck. While she and Sollux do originate from the successful timeline, they are more or less harmless observers of the dream bubbles and their actions do not disrupt the natural order of the universe. She shows them a dream bubble in which Dirk has gone evil, proclaiming to be the new bad guy of the narrative, and Aradia and Sollux seem to understand the point she’s trying to make. Aradia, who had been largely silent, asks what the Ascended will do now if she is everything and the universe. She shrugs and answers “I don’t know, I’ll probably watch some anime or something. I heard the newest season of BNHA was pretty good so maybe I’ll watch that.” Sollux loses his damn mind at the prospect of the universe deciding to watch cartoons to which the Ascended chuckles and responds “Why must I continue to do something important? Is it not enough for my story to be over, but for me to continue to exist? I believe I exist even after my story has concluded, so what I decide to do with that existence is pure freedom. I have all of eternity to do whatever I want and quite frankly, 1. I deserve it and 2. I’m going to do whatever makes me happy.” Aradia nods and smiles, completely understand that answer while Sollux tries to desperately protest. As the camera pulls away, from the table, we see Aradia and the Ascended chuckling at Sollux’s protests; further back, we see the dream bubble they are currently in; still further back the screen goes black as the bubbles fade out of sight. Left in the void by the Ascended, we see, in her penmanship, the words “To the living, to the dead, the doomed, and anyone else in-between, thank you for listening to my story. This is the Ascended, signing off.”

The End

#this is my art #holy fuck i cant believe i finally wrote it all down

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burnouts3s3 · 5 years

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Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid, a review

(Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit unprofessional blog post written by an unprofessional blog poster. All purported facts and statement are little more than the subjective, biased opinion of said blog poster. In other words, don’t take anything I say too seriously.) Just the facts 'Cause you're in a Hurry! Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price (MSRP): 50 USD Digital Copy (MSRP): 17.99 USD How much I paid: 50 USD. Animation Studio: ARMS Licensed and Localized by: Funimation Entertainment Audio: Japanese Audio with Subtitles and English Dub available. English Cast: Kayla Hardwick as Mamori, Morgan Garrett as Mirei, Brittney Karbowski as Meifon, Janelle Lutz as Akira Hiragi, Monica Rial as Charlotte Scharsen, Roseanne Palmer as Kasumi Shigure, Tia Ballard as Rain Hasumi, Jamie Marchi as Lady J and Cynthia Cranz as Torino. Number of Episodes: 12 Episodes Length per Episode: 25 Minutes on average. 21 Without Intro and Ending song. Number of Discs: 4 Discs in Total. 2 DVD Discs and 2 Blu-ray discs. Episodes per Disc: Episodes 1-7 on the 1st DVD disc. Episodees 8-12 on the 2nd DVD disc. Episodes 1-9 on the first Blu-ray disc with Episodes 10-12 on the second Blu-ray disc along with the special features. Does this come a digital voucher to redeem?: No. This only has the Physical DVD and Blu-ray discs. Also on: Amazon Video, Funimation Now, Funimation’s streaming service that requires a subscription. Bonus Features: Textless Openings, Textless Ending and Trailers for other Funimation Licensed Shows. Episode 3 Commentary. Notable Localization Changes: Meifon, the smuggler character who wears a pink cowboy hat, is given a southern accent by her voice performer, Brittney Kowbalski. My Personal Biases: I never really invested in the Valkyrie Drive franchise before and never played any of the games the anime is adapting. Sorry. My Verdict: Trashy, lurid, gaudy and with enough fanservice to make even the most perverted of us blush, Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid is sure to give its intending audience the happy ending they want. It’s too bad that in 12 short episodes, there’s just not enough there, emotionally or lore wise, to get invested in unless you’ve already have backhand knowledge of the games. Wait for a sale. A/N: Okay, since I don’t want the moderators to flag this post, I’m going to have to put an explicit warning here. So while I won’t post any nudity, I will have to Age restrict this post just so I don’t get any flak. Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid. a review

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Girls from all over the world have been infected with a mysterious virus known as the A Virus (Armed Virus). These girls are divided into two classes; Extars, who can transform into weapons when sexually aroused, and Liberators, who have the power to wield an Extar's weapon form, known as Liberator Arms, through a process known as Drive. These girls are brought to separate islands to spend their days completely isolated from the rest of the world until the islands' Observers, authorized by the government Organisation AAA, ostensibly deem them ready to rejoin society again. Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid follows an Extar named Mamori Tokonome who forms a partnership with the Liberator Mirei Shikishima on the island called Mermaid.(For our friends not fluent in Japanese, Tokonome shares a very similar writing as the word ‘Virgin’ in Japanese, which Togonome is.). Mamori and Mirei are caught between a conflict between the Wärter, the island’s government that lives the castle, Veste, and those fleeing it. With Governor Akira (a supposed male Liberator that’s actually female) trying to be fair, Charlotte getting delusions of grandeur and wanting to rule with an iron fist and Kasumi attempting to be fair to the girls, the Wärter is in constant conflict. Those attempting to flee join up with Ms. Torumi, a kind soul who offers shelter for girls looking for freedom. Meanwhile, a sneaky smuggler by the name of Meifon is trying to earn a profit from the war. Along the way, Mamori and Mirei meet other Liberators and Extars, such as the team Lady J and Lady Rain in which one transforms into a ridable motorcycle. Other liberators, such as Charlotte, have their own harem of Extars and arouse multiple ones to form a multi-part weapon. Let’s get this out of the way. Yes, it IS in fact Soul Eater but with Lesbians. And the show isn’t afraid of being explicit about it. We are talking full-on nudity with lots of exposed breasts flopping around, bouncing and lots and lots of shots of nipples erecting… and hardening… Christ, this makes fanservice driven series like Kannazuki no Miko or Strawberry Panic look like the chaste Maria-Sama ga Miteru. On the technical side, everything is very well done. The animation for both the action and fanservice scenes is well animated, the music flows scene to scene (even if I couldn’t really remember any pieces that stood out) and the voice acting for both the Original Japanese and English dub is well-done. So, if you’re looking for lots and lots of scenes of girls kissing each other, breasts flopping around with the viscosity of jello and scenes of action with naked girls, have I got a show for you. Story wise, I found the series rather lacking. Seasonal shows really need to be careful with their pacing. With a limited 12 episode run, VD:M is already bursting at the seams with an overly long 4 episode prologue establishing the characters, the setting, the divide between the girls going along with Charlotte and Akira’s lawful order, Kasumi’s wavering allegiance and Torumi’s group of rebels and Meifon’s smuggling between the 2 sides. There’s a sense of urgency that the peace can’t last and conflict is unavoidable. But, not so urgent that we couldn’t have two light-hearted episodes involving one girl becoming Kaiju sized and another episode with a beauty contest in a cultural festival.

Boy, this season of Attack on Titan got WEIRD. When the main big bad does rear her head near the final 4 episodes, the show does a good ‘enough’ job establishing the backstory between her and Mirei, but you get the sense that maybe, had the show paced itself better, it would mean more. Yes, the final battle with all the girls joining together at the end is impressive to look at, but emotionally, I just wasn’t feeling it. If the show were as committed to giving me emotional turning points as it was fan service, I would’ve been more impressed. The characters are also rather lacking (writing wise). While Mirei is certainly admirable and one of the most likable of the cast, Mamori doesn’t really change much (character wise). Granted, the show pays lipservice (no pun intended) to the idea that the more courageous Mamori is, the more powerful the weapon she becomes, but there’s never that moment where Mamori ‘saves’ Mirei or gives her the comfort Mirei needs like the way Himeko comforted Chikane at the end. They instead fuse to one super being. It feels like at one point Mamori was supposed to have the final turning point and be the one to rescue Mirei, but Mamori just ends up being captured and put into the damsel role again. I also liked Kasumi and her dubious allegiance with the rebels as well as Meifon, getting into all sorts of trouble for some cash. I’m told by fans of the franchise that in peripheral media, some of the other couples get more character development. For example, the team of Lady Rain and Lady J were actually on opposite sides of a war but intentionally got themselves captured just to be together or that Governor Akira actually has a female lover back on the mainland and longs to be with her. Again, I am not here to judge what’s in an appendix. What’s in the show is in the show and it’s clear the TV producers weren’t interested in those stories to begin with, so why should I? Funimation Entertainment did the localization for the show. And for the most part, the dub script stays as close as it does to the original Japanese version. Granted, Funimation has always played it loose with dubbing scripts and this is no exception. The English script contains lots of innuendos and sex jokes to make the English viewers chuckle (i.e. “I caught and she pitched.” “Let’s go digging for treasure” “I’m gonna let it all hang out!”) Karbowski adopts a southern accent for Meifon so thick, I thought I was listening to Nico Robin from the 4Kids dub of One Piece. (I’m aware that localizers tend to translate those with Kansai dialect and give them a Southern accent and Karbowski seems to be doing this accent winking to the audience and having fun with it). Special credit should go to Janelle Lutz as Akira Hiragi, managing to perform dual roles as both masculine and feminine variations of the character. The rest of the cast does a good job voicing their perspective roles. Monica Rial does with she can with Charlotte and Cynthia Cranz as Torumi seems to especially fit the role of a motherly caretaker for lost girls. (Yes, I find the fact that one of the characters is voiced by the same performer as Chi-chi and Botan very disconcerting). THE ORIGINAL JAPANESE AUDIO WITH SUBTITLES IS AVAILABLE FOR THOSE WHO PREFER IT. The package includes the OVAs (Original Video Animation) which are short videos of each of the girls revealing motivation and backstory as well as a lot of nudity with nipples becoming more and more erect. Lots of them. What’s weird is that the OVAs are also dubbed with the cast members. Funimation didn’t even dub the OVA for Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid. CAVEAT: It’s very strange that the series suddenly wants to take a more dramatic turn with emphasis on character development and history, but still plays out in a very fanservice driven anime. In some ways, I was enjoying the show more when it wasn’t really about anything and just amped the fanservice up to 11. With the exception of a few characters, I wasn’t invested in the goings on and 12 episodes is too short for me to have nostalgic feelings for Mermaid Island. For 50 USD, Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid is a bit on the steep end. While the animation, music, fight scenes and… PLOT are all well done, emotionally, it doesn’t have much to offer. Then again, I don’t expect emotional substance out of show where half the teenagers become sexually aroused and transform into weapons. Those looking for a happy ending (in both senses of the term) will enjoy this. Verdict: Wait for a sale or rental.

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#valkyrie drive mermaid #valkyrie drive #mamori #mirei #extar #liberator #funimation #morgan garrett #monical rial

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the-uptake · 4 years

Text

Between You and Me

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 11. Go to previous. TWs: Shaving, alcohol, drugging, hangovers of both kinds, bondage, epidemic, isolation, bombing survivorship mention, descriptions of lethal body horror. Bite the hand that feeds, tap the vein that bleeds...

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Come third shift that night, the faint hum within the complex’s walls had faded, and only one wall of each apartment’s main room and bathroom illuminated its inhabitants’ way with the pale Wolfram phosphorescence accumulated during the second shift. If not for the potent, unfamiliar scent of vaguely sandalwood aftershave and the dark gold towels, Cecil could nearly have forgotten he stood shirtless in someone else’s bathroom. That, and he’d sooner be caught dead than own bathroom rugs.

His halo lay, turned off, on the counter beside the sink. The internal elements in its opalescent clear plastic emanated faint pulses. To his surprise, he found the tenant owned a rechargeable power bank. Possibly several, he supposed, considering the facility with which he located it in the fluorescent twilight. So as to let ‘Choly keep theirs to get through the night, the redhead gladly made use of the foot-long clear-housing device, so the aural aureole could maintain its juices that night well past the hour it normally flickered off altogether. Unlike the backup electrical source, his boyfriend wouldn’t have any need at the time for the clipper that he then produced from its case. He fished around in the like-new guard attachments, recalling that ‘Choly didn’t use any. When he snapped on the size two, an ebullient nerve jolted through him. He pulled the drain stopper, and leaned into the mirror to get to work.

As the chunks of two-inch hair fell to the counter, floor, and sink basin, the act felt more natural than he’d expected. He’d trimmed himself dozens of times over the years, and maintained his own facial hair, but he’d never buzzed off all his hair. If he’d ever seen a Leveler with their hair this short, they hid it beneath the translucent cranial plates which the Northeast US deemed especially fashionable. Full-scalp plating was unheard of, though: these functional successors to the fascinator always had either brightly colored, vee-reactive, or even fiber-optic extensions wefted through exposed sections, or the wearer’s natural hair pulled through it to be styled somewhat akin to how people used to style hair around combs and other such devices. The reverberations of the clippers on his scalp rendered the sound for him as would a deep bone conduction headset. He wondered how someone might even wear such an accessory without hair long enough to clip it into.

He set down the clippers to run his hands all over his work, and smeared around his chin and jaw with the heels of his palms. The length of what remained on his head now nearly matched that of his third-shift shadow. The more he stared at himself, the more his heart lightened. Content with the catharsis of self transgression, he moved to clean up after himself. With a lock of the longest hair from the top of his head in his fingers, he wondered whether ‘Choly would want it. He flinched at himself, but still tucked the sizable brassy chunk into the inner pouch of his toiletry bag regardless, unable to quit the habituation of such thoughts. He did his best without a broom and dust pan to corral the rest of the trimmings into the wastebasket.

Without building power, the plumbing lacked necessary pressure, so he instead used some of the tenant’s reserve water supply, from the interconnecting clear stackable units stashed in the bathtub, to shampoo and rinse his head in the sink.

Suspiciously well equipped for the unplugged shifts, he noted, of the tenant’s specialized furnishings. The sensation of scrubbing the fine clippings off his scalp with his fingernails got him whistle-humming softly with his mouth open. The small spigot on the side of it made it incredibly simple to measure out cupfuls to pour over his head as he held it over the basin. Having it in these units is so much handier than our repurposed leftovers bins. Maybe he’d help us get set up with something like this.

He tossed the borrowed towel into the hamper by the tub and put his unbuttoned gold dress shirt back on, then reconnected the four flexible ports of his halo and handshaked it. In the next room, he could hear struggling that had, from the labored nasal breathing, likely gone on for some time. He murmured dully to himself, put his glasses back on his face, and took his empty highball with him to investigate.

Though Jacob’s apartment had the same floor plan as Cecil and ‘Choly’s, the furnishings denied any meaningful confusion. The back third had an office area, the middle a series of utility shelves and an L-shaped workbench perpendicular to the wall, and the front a peculiarly spacious third of open floor with a single broad cabinet. Just as theirs, dozens of potted plants peppered the long, narrow quarters. Unlike theirs, rather than literary in nature, the grey-area verbot that peppered Jacob’s was technological and mechanical.

“Hope you don’t mind that I’ve let myself in, neighbor,” he remarked as he approached the upholstered swiveling desk chair from behind. “Decided I’d stay the night with you, to make sure you recovered right from the tranq. My brother and their friend helped me carry you over here before they headed out.”

Jacob stilled at Cecil’s voice, and stopped straining against the ropes that anchored him to his seat. He didn’t bother craning his head to look up over the back of the chair.

“I do still have both kidneys, right?” The snark received deadpan silence. “--Where’s Angel?”

“Powered off, in the front. I could teach you better encryption, if you want.”

Cecil casually refreshed his glass from the small lacquer dry bar in the very corner of the office space. He plunked a few cocktail cherries suspended in lime gelatin cubes from the zippered package, and splashed in whiskey, ginger ale, and some kind of Vek bitters. He sipped at his concoction until he netted one of the bright blue fruits in his mouth and twisted off the stem, and chewed before he spoke again.

“I appreciate your hospitality, really. These jellies are something else. I’m on my third Premier.” Cecil faced into the apartment, skirting eye contact, to lean his weight against the side of the desk. Behind him, rain had probably strafed the naked window for most of the evening already, and would definitely continue through the night. The stem went back in his cup, since he didn’t trust his ability to hit the waste bin two meters away. “Place’s nice, too. See you’ve greened it up. Did my brother do yours, too, like some kinduva traveling snake oil dealer?”

The blond let a slow breath escape flared nostrils, and an intermittent low whine corrugated his affect.

“What time is it? Can’t be super late. Glow’s still going. --Are you sure you wouldn’t rather a slice of confec? You seem like you could use some confec right now. Don’t strike me as the type to drink--”

“--About twenty-two. Not too long before first shift. Then it’s just the two of us. And I’ll be blind, drunk,and deaf.”

“It’s just you and me here?”

Inebriation had misinformed Cecil’s tongue, since he didn’t usually keep a continuous charge in the halo, but he couldn’t be bothered to correct himself. He worked at draining his glass, so he could earn the rest of the fruits that had glued themselves to the bottom of the crowded glass. He nudged the chair back a bit with his foot to slide over to sit on the desk and face him. He just stared blankly at the tall, thick blond while popping the prized garnishes in his mouth one at a time, removing the stems each time and letting them accumulate in the highball.

Jacob slouched when Cecil’s enjoyment of them seemed more like absent cud-chewing, and he shut his eyes, folding to the implicit staring contest.

“Are you all right, pal? Is that a stupid question? Is that okay to ask? --You know you can just eat the jellies without making a drink, right--”

Cecil sat the glass down on the bar, and gripped the edge of the desk, to swing his feet under it.

“I just shot you. You’re tied up, and I can’t let you go. And I can’t even look at my boyfriend right now. Do you even really need to ask?” His mouth scrunched and he glanced at the ceiling before resuming more agreeable eye contact. “Question of my own now, since you can clearly intuit some modicum of transparency: What made you a repairman?”

Jacob’s exhausted eyes stitched in a smile, and he shifted back in the chair.

“Cred’s never been the only currency. There’s lost potential in everything around us. Call it alchemy, in the most abstract sense. Mend and mod. Turn something into something else. In lieu of cred, people used to trade goods and services all the time, back in the day. The tradition never died. It just changed. Like everything else did.” He squinted again, his mouth becoming a wide thin line. “Look, I can’t turn on the poetic charm just like that. If you’re asking why a repairman’s decided to live in Tri-City, with everything like it is, I stayed behind because I knew there’d be survivors who’d still need the building to work right. Simple as that. Why’s it matter to you?”

“How altruistic of you. Of course it matters. You weren’t just fixing the garbage chutes. You were going through people’s trash. Just doesn’t add up to me, though, why you’d put yourself at risk to return something so patently thrown away.”

“Again with that box!” Jacob scoffed, the stress flickering out of his grin. “Would you have rather I just let that stuff get destroyed? Wait. You’re scared I’d tattle. Weak. You’d better freakin’ believe I wouldn’t bring police into the building. Your honey isn’t the only gremlin in this place, you know. I’m not gonna burn the whole house down just to smoke out one cockroach.”

“I know I can’t be the only one with a weapon. What’s stopping you from dealing with the... roaches... yourself?”

The subtext read louder than the text. Jacob knew why Cecil didn’t think he could untie him, but now he’d said it outright.

“You feel personally responsibly for Central, don’t you, librarian? That’s what all this is. You just can’t let it go.”

Cecil let out a broken laugh, and his eyes glassed up as he steeled a snivel.

“How can’t I? I should have been able to stop it. I was working a Level 7 server room when Central became a Roman candle. You snarked about my burn scars and all that shit, but surely from the look of me, you can tell how close I had to be to one of the payloads.” The ex-librarian couldn’t sit still anymore and paced. He quickly conflated the habit with his brother and sat back down on the desk, to lace and fold his hands in his lap with a sour, desperate face. “You know we’ve only got a localized Nikola-web here, repairman. Just what they’ll feed us, accept from us. Have you got an Underweb connection? Has anyone here?”

Jacob didn’t like not being able to watch Cecil pace, but he didn’t like it even more when the pacing halted so abruptly, only for the strung-out stocky little man to perch in front of him all over again. His eyes slowly widened as his brow raised, and he frowned thoughtfully.

“Now just what exactly would somebody like you need the Underweb for?”

The ginger nearly objected, but recognized he hadn’t been shut down. He shifted in place as he formed his narrative response.

“‘Choly needs medical stuff. But he’s scared of billing. It’s exciting to know he’s taken care of all that himself his whole life. You know Stalkers had two options with their medical needs. They either bartered with verbot to get care from this one clinic... or they didn’t. He’s been disabled since before he was a teen. He racked up an awful lot of debt with their lead doc. It got to where he couldn’t afford the emotional, sociological, or physical cost of enlisting the doc’s help.” He stilled himself by chewing at his spider bite studs, but his voice began to break. “He asked me this afternoon about a... maggot debridement kit. And Trylocaine saline. The bullet you asked about. He told me, he got shot in the leg. That night. It’s gotten so fucking infected. You think the 25-line garbage chute smelled bad? Just be glad you weren’t in the bathroom this morning helping him sop up the pus in the first place.”

The repairman huffed, eyeing the dry bar.

“So he wasn’t puffing up to scare me, by describing all the...” He realized he couldn’t gesticulate, and slouched in a sympathetic resignation. “The skin or whatever. Slag, though. Leather. Real leather,” he whooped. “And that much of it. It’s all kind of revolting, isn’t it?”

“Everything about him is so revolting that it’s charming. If there’s a way to keep him... keeping it. Oh, I don’t know.” He caught himself trying to stand to pace and burked the compulsion. “I just don’t understand why he threw it away, when he literally put years of blood and sweat into it.”

“Everybody’s got their own exchange rate, their own value of things. He might just not value the same things you do. Or at least, not in the same way. Whatever value that thing, and crafting it, has to him. Might be past tense. --Why’s it so important to you, that he keeps on like he has? You only just today found out about it, from the sound of it all.”

“Because this has been his ‘normal’ for the past four years!” he cried, throwing his hands up. “I can nearly forgive that he never told me, or showed me. He hasn’t had his hair bleached like that since we first met, and then he goes and does that the day after the bombing. And that tattoo. That triangle thing immortalized in the leather. I know he got it, a month after we started going steady, just to push my buttons.” He rubbed at his tattooed arms and couldn’t look at Jacob anymore, trembling deep in his lungs. “...I guess a part of me’s worried that he’s either trying to move to a time before he knew me. Or a time before he had to be nagged up over all this mess. It’s an understatement, that everything’s gone to shit since Central went dark, but everything really did feel right until that day. We managed. We worked. Like, it was all falling into place, not apart.”

Jacob barked a laugh, disquieted by his inability to unpack the brand of Cecil’s loyalty to ‘Choly.

“Geez, pal. Gonna sprain something, overthinking so hard. Mister Thorn’s on your side, and he’s going to guarantee your Ever After won’t be ending any time soon. Promise.” He got a bit lyrical as he drafted the laundry list. “Is leather working stuff all you think ‘Choly would need? The surgical stuff. I’ve got pharmaceutical connections. Wonder if Trylocaine’s enough...”

Cecil’s head picked up when he heard Jacob humoring him, and a hollow enchantment overwhelmed him at a loss for the spectrum of what the repairman must have had access to.

“I’m... not sure what you’re suggesting here,” he mumbled.

“All you’ve gotta be is specific. I can get it.”

“...And the cost?”

The repairman scoffed, in a wide-eyed detachment.

“The cost? You mean, what’s in it for me?” He thought it over a moment. “All depends on what it is, I guess.”

“What about Ketonamil?” Cecil blurted out, a little too intensely. Worried to have been mistaken for anger, he softly amended, “--Or at least, the stuff to make some?”

Cecil’s head rang in a complex grief, that the cyanogenic steroid was the first thing to fly out of his mouth. Maybe he felt more threatened than he thought by Jacob, in ways the tranq couldn’t adjust for. Or maybe he just wanted to gauge the repairman’s going prices. Jacob melted in a stunned, warm fascination.

“All this couch psychiatry mess has been fun, but if we’re going to continue to be neighbors, I really have got to work on how I keep letting you lot continue to surprise me with gems like this.” A wistful sigh escaped him, stuttering into discomfort. He wagged his head toward the reader on the square pad in the windowsill. “Yeah, I’ve got Underweb access. It should still have a charge. Parked it before third shift. If you... untie me... I could--”

“--Or,” Cecil asserted with a wild glare, gripping the man’s kneecap until he squirmed, then balance back to put the other hand on the device slightly behind himself. “You could just tell me your sequence so I can browse for myself.”

Cecil turned on the screen and waited. Maybe the liquor had loosened his inhibitions. He never got drunk. Was he a mean drunk? A talkative drunk? He’d disclosed to a near total stranger things he’d never come close to discussing with anyone close to him. He could see Jacob sweating.

“...Or that.”

Jacob told him the finger pattern design to draw through the symbols, and the lock screen shut off. He’d never been able to get the hang of ‘Choly’s rooted reader, and he’d purposefully left its updates off for years on top of that. The rooted user interface of the current model had so many more buttons to swipe among, and many menus necessitated the use of manually typing with the keyless entry pad that occupied the last third of the flat device. He didn’t ask Jacob to tell him how to use it, lest he risk inviting giving Jacob good reason to insist, If only you’d just untie me, I could show you myself, I’m no good at explaining things like that with words, et cetera, et cetera.

He’d figure it out himself.

The time in the corner indicated 22:52. If only you’d just untie me. The hypothetical request repeated itself in Cecil’s head. Did he really trust what Jacob told him, or was he being spoon-fed whatever might get him to free him? Though the wine key didn’t look like a reliable option, he pocketed it. Then he picked up the pronged Japanese bar spoon, and twiddled it between two fingers while he browsed with the other hand trying to locate the merchant apps. Apparently, its owner had the news Web app set to auto-load certain tiers of noteworthy news broadcasts. The screen split between three different pieces:

“Bloom Set to Ramp to Full Pandemic Status”

“Bloom Victims Now Sprouting Up on International Soil”

“New Developments in Bloom Survivor Procedures”

He skimmed the first, his brow sinking against his glasses. Something was effectively causing people to spontaneously turn inside out. He could recognize the “plant” and “insect” or“crustacean” traits the article described in the structures that jutted from and leafed out of the bodies knotted up in the apparent agony of such a gruesome death, even with only the photographs included of the casualties. His jaw tightened, recalling his brother mere hours ago making casual discussion over how Vekarix couldn’t graft an exoskeleton donor into a mammal’s genetic expression without lethal consequences. He boiled inside at the incredulity that Ben could be involved. The thylacine hybrid hadn’t seemed remotely out of sorts during the insect grafting discussion with ‘Choly. Had he been about to tell them all about this‘Bloom,’ only to have gotten interrupted by Jacob? By the Box?

The second article, he only skimmed, his ears ringing too much to focus. He gleaned victims had been found on both coastlines of the States, and in the past week cases had been discovered in Scandinavia and South Asia. Investigations had already been underway to pinpoint if a sole food supplier might have shipped out tainted stock, and pressure had intensified once the epidemic had crossed international waters. He spaced out a ways, despising the reality how disconnected from the outside world their apartment building was. Unplugged from reliable transportation, let alone utilities, including Web. Fed only what FEMA deemed suitable to funnel into their location-specific Nikola-based Web broadcasts. He stared at the photos, revolted fundamentally at what could only be some manner of genetic disease.

Speechless, the ex-librarian looked up, haunted, and turned around the reader to set it in Jacob’s lap to observe him.

“I’ve got to keep up on current events,” he lampshaded. “Sue me for having auto-load set on some stuff.”

“--You knew about this then?” Cecil snipped. “Have there been any in Tri yet?”

Jacob shrugged, and decided giving him his closest understanding of the crisis better served them both than instructing specific topic searches.

“Only a matter of time, I guess. They’ve started refining a cure. Made their first survivor announcement a few days ago. Nasty stuff. Comes in flare-ups. Seems to start just turning you green, but every episode after that just fucks you up sideways. Looking like the key to surviving it is catching it before‘crab phase’ or whatever the hell that explosion of sharp mangled guts is. Worst part is, it makes you complacent to the changes, or oblivious altogether. You don’t seek medical help. You stop eating, and seek light and water above all else. The first survivor only got there‘cause he stuck close enough to home his steady found him and took him somewhere.”

All the while, Cecil had stared at the reader screen, not Jacob.

“What... is it.”

“A virus, maybe? No one knows. It’s got to be genetic, ‘cause they reversed it with humanization serum. Look, if you wanna read up on it, that’s fine. I’m probably missing scientifical parts of this whole shebang. Use my reader all you want. I don’t care. Just lemme get up and piss, pal. You really are tormenting me at this point.”

Cecil finally folded, and crouched behind the chair to cut the knots with the wine key. By the time the ropes loosened off the chair, Jacob was already rounding the chair to gently knuckle-scrub the ex-librarian’s fresh buzz cut with a chuckle, and he strolled off to the bathroom. Cecil bundled up the rope, then sat to resume reading the news articles. Without all the bookshelves to dampen the sound, having the door open while he took care of his business echoed awfully. Cecil sneered, but appreciated that even though Jacob saved reserve water by not flushing until in the morning, he at least heard him wash his hands.

The third piece was almost totally in video broadcast. He started it, but couldn’t find the volume to turn it up, so he tapped at it until closed captioning started streaming. They interviewed a tall, older man with worn features and an angular nose, bespoken in layered burgundy and navy leisure suiting. The man had shoulder-length receding chartreuse hair, and blood-black sclera and fingernails. From his manicured brows and sideburns, he could tell it wasn’t a dye job. He grimaced as he skimmed the text.

Ivory Rasmussen. Prior already renown as the Confectioner responsible for Resin. Lives in Level 22, in the solar sector of still-crippled Tri-City, New Jersey.

He didn’t get anything more from the interview beyond the understanding they wanted to know what he felt, knowing his survival could mean a large-scale success in overcoming the pandemic globally. Except his insistence that, despite the global incidence, he discredited anyone who thus far considered the Bloom a pandemic of any kind. How dare Jacob simply shrug when a Tri-City native was the survivor in mention. When Jacob came up behind him and put a hand to his shoulder, he jerked to glower up at him, but softened immediately.

“Dude looks super wild. Am I right?” He patted the shoulder for emphasis.“Now how about that shopping list? Gotta get it before first shift. My receiver’s in a third shift sector, so their glow-time is in less than an hour now.”

“Leather crafting tools,” Cecil seethed. “Maggot debridement. Trylocaine. ...Antibiotics! And Ketonamil.”

At first, he’d just been sticking to what he’d thought was an accidental request, but certainty laced his voice now as though he hadn’t known he meant it the first time he’d said it before.

“And Ketonamil,” Jacob repeated. He sat on the edge of the desk and took the reader from him, flipping through with routine cynicism as he easily located every item requested. “Sorry for doing it for you. We’re just in a time crunch, is all.”

“You ordered the things!” Cecil nearly bolted up out of the chair. “But we hadn’t even negotiated what it’ll set me back yet!”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed, waving him to mentally sink back down in the chair. “Prices on delivery, neighbor. Prices on delivery.”

“But--”

“There a problem? No questions asked, why you want any of this stuff. I can conveniently forget anything you’ve said to me tonight, if you like. Doctor patient confidentiality, or whatever bullshit you want to call it. Services are the oldest human currency. I’ve got the means and the motivation. You won’t find both so easily in the same individual. Not in these parts. I’m not for anything too violent, I promise. I can already reassure you, I’ve never set a death in motion in providing any of these items in the past.”

“Up to, but not including,” the librarian jabbed dryly.

“Say, I wonder if we could find a genuine purpose for all that genuine leather,” he proposed aloud, stroking his short under-chin beard thoughtfully. “Something the little gremlin might like to keep.”

“He fancies himself an insect,” he corrected. Though the deprecating endearment nettled him, it worried him more that this endeavor might imperil his priceless object so quickly after he’d come into its possession. “I’m sure of it, that if you asked him, he’d consider the leather his chrysalis.”

“And just what do you think it’ll make him, if we can convince him to turn the stuff into something else?” The repairman offered the bag of cocktail jellies with a benevolent glance.

“Something that he might like,” Cecil repeated as he awed up at the taller man, accepting the cherries in a deferential entrapment.

“You still wanna fall back and keep an eye on me tonight?”

“I don’t think I could go home just yet.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Cecil snorted, and popped another fruit in his mouth.

“Depends on your hourly rates, I guess.”

#biopunk #dystopian #cyberpunk #body horror #dystopia #the uptake #with symbiotic self indulgence #jacob thorn #george cecil #between you and me

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scummy-writes · 5 years

Text

Stupid and Sappy post

*waves hands* It’s time for Scum to say bye to MM under the cut! (This is very stupid jhfbjhf)

I can already feel people rolling their eyes at me for this, especially folks who keep like, vague tweeting me and shit over my opinions about this game, but guess what bitch is gonna write this anyway! Me! sfbjhdf

(This post is going to be incoherent at places, like as I am as a person, but also! I talk about heavy subjects like suic*de, so if that gets to you, please don’t read!)

To start it off seriously: even though recently I’ve had a lot of issues over this company with their lack of warning over heavy triggering content, and their very blatantly bad customer service, I still love the original game a lot. Not in the “Oh this plot is beautiful” way, but like. This game helped me at a time when I was extremely lonely, and was dealing with a lot of heavy shit at home.

If you guys have followed me since the beginning, you know know I started this blog just a few months after downloading this game. Like riiight at the beginning of Jan 2017, I made my first post on here- this blog is two years old! I started out as a HC blog and stayed that way for a while, and I think after I hit 1k followers I finally brought up the fact that I had an AO3 account- and folks realized I had started writing fics in oct 2016 for this game! So, a lot of people know that, wow! This game inspired me a lot creatively and helped me hone my writing skills a bit more after a while not being in a writing class! (And yes, my early fics I absolutely refuse to look at because I hate how I used to write JHBJSBFS).

What a lot of folks don’t know, is that at the very beginning of august, I had gotten out of a ward after coming very close to doing something pretty bad to myself.

Granted, I didn’t have to stay in there long- I had put myself in there so I could also leave whenever I wanted (as long as the docs deemed me safe to leave as well) but I kept myself in there for a good bit so I could do a lot of critical thinking and not stress so much about my job at the time.

Afterwards, I got out, while I wasn’t still at That Point, I was still struggling pretty bad mentally. Home life was rough, my mom was battling with a terrible boyfriend at the time that lived with us, and I was still dipping back into some pretty bad thoughts.

Then, a friend I’ve had for a while now, introduced me to this game! And, well, I already covered that it helped me a lot in the creative process, but it also helped distract me a shitton from the bad home life I had.

A lot of people probably also remember that a month after having this blog up and running, my mom tried killing herself.

Everything is still really vivid in my memory about that- because like. So many things could have gone wrong. My little brother could have fallen asleep earlier before he found her, I could have picked up that extra hour for my shift at work, this, that- but long story short she’s still alive.

But it was a terrible year for me. Probably, arguably, all of 2017 was the worst year I’ve had in my life so far. So many things happened with my mother, she was mentally unstable, and after a lot of threats against me I even had to move out until she was more stable and, you know, not threatening to hurt me/break my shit.

And, a lot of you know, while I was constantly dealing with my own mother threatening me and trying to disown me, I was also being harassed on a constant basis over juz*n bullshit. Words cannot describe how laughably stupid that whole situation was, but it was completely, utterly, ridiculous bullshit.

Add that onto me dealing with the IRL struggles with my mom, some of which are somewhat starting to repeat even now- to the point where I’m going to be moving out again soon- well. Shit! It sucked, lol. It sucked a lot, and there were many times where I wish I was back in the hospital or worse.

But, and yes I’m gonna say exactly what yall are expecting, again- this game helped me out a lot. I constantly felt alone and worthless- my own mother was abandoning me- and these voiced sprites made me feel less alone. Gave me the attention I wish I had IRL.

And, well, a lot of my 2017 year is easy to summarize. Constantly harassed, bullied, and dealing with stupid fandom wank. But, also, filled with wonderful messages and support from you guys.

I’ve preached before how follower counts are ridiculous to base your self worth on- and yes I still agree to that, please don’t base your self worth on follower counts. Or anyone’s! - but some of you have literally followed me since the beginning, or for a Very Long Time, if not. I may be terrible with names, but I still recognize you guys and all the kind words you’ve sent me, and I hope you guys know you helped just as much as MM was helping me.

I’m getting incoherent, but a lot of what I’m trying to say is that, this game has helped me out a shitton. That’s probably why I get so vocal about issues concerning the company- not out of a sense of ‘they owe me’ (they owe me absolutely fucking nothing), but just. It sucks seeing a game that used to be so wonderful in its prime, go so fucking downhill so fast. Customer service used to be wonderful, I remember accidentally putting down my old address for the VIP package and messaging them right after I ordered explaining I needed a change of address, and a Live Person getting back to me within the hour and fixing the issue.

Comparing that with, you know, the Four Fucking Months it took to speak to Someone Successfully about the saeran daki bullshit- then you know...Well, yeah you guys know, I’ve went off about it before.

Now it’s apparent that they’re more money hungry, with how you had to pay 900+ hgs with the recent AE stuff with V, and...hoo boy, I’m sure everyones heard enough at this point.

So, backtracking a bit because I’m chugging coffee and all incoherent, this game has brought in a lot of positives in my life. You guys, healthier distractions than what I used to do to myself, friends, creative outlets being brought back to life again. I think thats why I get so upset at the fandom, at people snapping at me for not liking some of the recent things cheritz has done- people fucking vaguetweeting me, for fucks sake, and getting so personally angry at me over how I got upset at Cheritz. Like, I’m not shitting yall, I literally lost friendships over my opinions on cheritz.

And it sucks! Not gonna lie, like it sucks because it’s so fucking stupid. But then you take a look into the fandom- with the ongoing and constant harassment over contributors in charity zines, constant harassment over people if they like a character you don’t or vice versa, the harassment against artists concerning repostings or, god forbid, them drawing a ship you dislike- and it’s just.

How did a game, focusing on the message of how kindness and patience can help out in so many ways, create this rabid fucking fandom?

Even content creators fight against each other. I cannot explain the bullshit I’ve seen over people being mad that they’re not on someones personal “recommended blogs to follow!” lists, over people going out of their way to harass folks because they didn’t make it on a zine, over people trying to use a follow count over why they’re much better than so and so- It’s just...Bad. All of it.

And, well. Combine Cheritz rapidly making their own game worse, in ways we all have heard about me (or others) complain about, and this terrible fandom, I think that perfectly explains why I’m uninstalling and pretty much being done with the fandom once the other stuff I’m involved in finishes.

This game brought a lot of happiness for me, and even with my recent grievances with this game, it (laughably) hurts to uninstall it. I know its ridiculous, god trusT ME i know, but it still sucks saying goodbye to something I still love, but can’t stand being around anymore. At this point, the fandom feels like an abusive ex-friend/whatever and the game used to be what good the ex had left. And now that thats getting worse...orz

I’ll always treasure the doors this game opened up for me- how it allowed me to meet amazing people, some of which I can happily say are my friends, and how it helped me become creative again, how I’ve been able to be on zines to help charities, and how I’ve been blessed to hear my writing impact people in positives ways- but here’s my sappy goodbye while I try to scrapbook the positive memories and bury the negative ones in upcoming therapy session.

If you read this far- bless yoooooou I know I sound like the damn. Crazy image of the dude with papers pinned to the wall, but I hope I made some sort of sense. Thank you!

#scum talks

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