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miraculouscontent · 3 years

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dailymotion

It’s heeeeere! Another summasalt, this time with nearly twice the length of the first one!

(Turns out that not having caffeine doesn’t help me talk any slower.)

Script below:

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Rocketear?

Can you Rocketear the newest episode apart with your salt, my beloved Salt Queen?

Penny for your thoughts on Rocketear?

Aw, anon! You can have that for free! I'm a generous goddess.

"Rocketear" begins with Chat Noir and Carapace - just Carapace, really - holding back a pack of what I presume to be the physical manifestation of the writing staff's age, or at least a representation of how behind the times the writing seems.

Just as the dinosaurs break through Shellter. Ladybug shows up with the scientist who revived the dinosaurs in the first place and said scientist uses a whistle to calm the dinosaurs down. There's also a line from Bob Roth about putting the dinosaurs in a theme park to make money and I know what it's referencing but it's so incredibly random that it doesn't really come off as a proper joke.

Carapace was notably sad right after battle, but insisted that he was fine when Ladybug asked. Rena, sporting a... - I would like to say "new design" but it's a recolor in every sense of the word - is hiding behind part of a building and smiles after the heroes before walking off. Ladybug takes Nino's miraculous back but sees that he's still upset and asks him again what's wrong. Nino asks where Alya was and Ladybug claims that she only needed Carapace for the job, which cheers him up but only until Ladybug is already gone.

Mm, I guess Nino and Adrien relate in heroism not being enough for them unless they have their respective love interest to flirt with.

Also, I know this is an obvious set-up, but the show can't tell me that Ladybug just always brought Nino and Alya whenever she needed one of them. Season 3 required her to go to Master Fu to get the miraculouses, and unless she already knew that Nino and Alya would be in the same location - which, okay, the show does basically shove the two of them together whenever Nino is onscreen, fair, if two characters are in a relationship in this show then it's weird for them to NOT be with that person - but it just seems like a gamble, not to mention proof to Shadow Moth that the two are close if Ladybug constantly brings both of them.

Anyway, Ladybug goes into the sewer and asks Rena if she's seen any sign of Shadow Moth or his traps. Rena didn't see anything and they de-transform. Marinette is about to leave when she thinks of something, but Alya assumes it's about her new look, which was apparently not voluntary on her part and the suit automatically adapted to Alya's new role as Rena Furtive, which she has now named it as.

Marinette reminds her that this is supposed to be a secret and that they agreed that the fox has no owner. When Alya is evasive about whether she told Nino that she won't be Rena anymore, Marinette stresses that everyone needs to believe that Alya won't be using a miraculous anymore so that she can remain an undercover spy.

What's the point in changing the look if you're not going to show yourself anyway? I mean, insurance, I guess, but still.

Alya, exasperated, parrots what Marinette has apparently told her before: that she helps Ladybug with Mirage in case Shadow Moth tries to follow her so Rena can follow him instead. Marinette stresses the situation again and Alya tries to get Marinette to agree on her telling Nino that she's Rena Furtive, but Marinette refuses.

At Marinette's house, Alya talks further and explains that she doesn't know if she can lie to Nino since they don't keep any secrets--Alya, babe, you kept Rena Rouge from him and didn't tell him that you knew he was Carapace until Ladybug was forced to give you your miraculouses at the same time. I don't wanna hear it.

Marinette states that it's too late for that and also not technically a lie, but Alya gets upset and says that Nino will never trust her again if he finds out that she kept something from him. Marinette brings up how she had to keep secrets from Alya too, but they're interrupted by Tom appearing and wanting to play games with them. Marinette makes an excuse about homework that she's repeated many times, as Tom comments that the teachers give her too much. After Tom is kicked out - hang on, lemme just... - Marinette uses the moment to show Alya that she's lied to her family a lot and hasn't played games with her father in months. She states that there's no other option as they have to protect their identities, and Alya agrees to talk to Nino.

In Alya's room - I just presume at this point that Nino's house doesn't exist and Chris is an illusion - Alya tells Nino that they need to talk, but stammers and states that it's hard to talk about. Nino thinks that she wants to break up with him, but Alya assures that she loves him. She finally gets to the cover story that Rena herself made up in "Sentibubbler" and Nino understands, sad that she won't be around anymore but agreeing if it's what Ladybug thinks is best.

Is it weird that Nino respects Ladybug's wishes more than Alya does?

Nino hugs her and is confused by why Alya was nervous to tell him, as she can tell him anything and nothing will change their relationship. Alya feels guilty and hugs back, murmuring about how they don't have any secrets; that's not what Nino said, but sure, push this plot to its already predictable conclusion. I mean, I thought it was vaguely sweet that Nino switched to seriousness immediately when Alya said that she wanted to talk, but how am I supposed to be invested in this couple when their dynamic boils down to "STRONG, INDEPENDANT WOMAN who wears the pants in the relationship because her boyfriend is portrayed as a wimpy coward"? Like, the show constantly dragged Nino down to make Alya look "powerful" by comparison, and then when it comes to characters like Marinette, we get a girl who works very well outside of her relationship with her endgame love interest.

It's the fakest form of "girl power," dragging guys down to raise girls up or actually making a strong girl character but having her love interest be a weakness that creates flaws in her that weren't there originally and having that love interest be who she's "destined for."

I'm rambling, sorry.

In class, Marinette assures Alya that she did the right thing and Alya agrees. As they're leaving school, Marinette talks about how their "night walks" start soon, and Alya non-subtly talks about how Rena Furtive will be on the lookout while Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. She stops, however, as gets excited about some pictures she took of herself as Rena Furtive, which has a lot of details that Marinette hasn't seen. I don't know whether to groan at what I just heard or remind everyone that Rena Furtive is literally just a recolor and therefore this is the writers patting themselves on the back for this design, so let's just move on.

Alya then shows Marinette her phone--AUGH, MY EYES--and suggests making a poll on her Ladyblog so people can vote for their favorite Rena design. Marinette has to stress again that Rena Furtive is supposed to be a spy and thus invisible, which Alya admits that she forgot about.

Okay, I've been holding off on talking about this, but now seems like the best time to bring it up. Alya has been a trash friend as well as a trash confidant, and her role as Rena Rouge boiled down to, "it was convenient for her to be the fox at the time it was needed." She's not particularly stealthy like one would expect of a fox, and she was easily one of the worst candidates to be told Marinette's big secret. I'll get more into this later, but I have to stress that Alya has treated Marinette no differently since learning of Marinette's identity and has already gone against Marinette's orders once before at the time of this episode airing. Episodes are constantly torn between validating their decision to have Marinette tell Alya, having Marinette be worried about the decision while the show considers her to be ridiculous for it, and then having Alya either consider or make choices that clearly don't gel well with what's good for her role. Much like Marinette, she lacks a sense of self-control and--wow, a female character who's impulsive, never seen that stereotype before.

Point being, "Sentibubbler" stressed over and over that Alya was the right choice and deserved to be both the permanent fox and the understudy for guardian, but then we have "Rocketear" here where Alya is making basic emotionally-driven errors that I'm not even remotely sympathetic to when Marinette has gone through so much worse over the course of three+ seasons.

*sigh*

Alya laments that it's hard to find new content for the Ladyblog - ah, yes, tell me more about your struggles, Alya - but figures that at least she can post stuff about Chat Noir instead of--I don't know--making fake Ladybug theories to lead people off Marinette's trail. Marinette says that it's a great idea, though Alya still doesn't look too happy. The scene then rewinds to a little bit to show a different point of view, this time with Adrien and Nino. Wait, this feels familiar, wasn't there another episode that did something like--ohhhh no, this is going to hurt.

After saying good-bye to Adrien - something I wish I could do every time he's mentioned or on-screen - Nino catches the bit of conversation where Alya talks about the Ladyblog. Nino talks as if Marinette isn't there and asks Alya out to the movies because Marinette is chopped liver and this is about Alya and how sad she is, guys.

Wow, she's turning into Adrien faster and faster.

Alya hesitates, but Marinette assures her that there's still time. Alya excitedly runs off with Nino and they watch what I presume are previews given the narrator, featuring recycled footage from the Ladybug PV. Nino is upset because Rena is mentioned but not Carapace, and the preview features Rena telling Chat Noir to forget Ladybug because it's Chat and Rena herself who are trulu made for each other.

I don't know what's funnier; the complete lack of self-awareness or the suggestion that a biracial couple would exist in this show outside of a special that gives them maybe a minute of screentime and acts more like suggestive canon anyway. I think I might've been too generous with that line about dinosaurs.

Nino is offended by the preview and Alya brushes off his comments, stating that it's just a cartoon and it's made to entertain people, though Nino himself is certainly not entertained. Can't say I entirely blame him considering that Alya doesn't really try to say anything substantial or even agree with him. No cuddling or reassuring kisses, she just gets slightly sad and turns to her phone for a bit.

After the movie, Nino is cheered back up again until he catches Alya on her phone once more. He offers to take her home, but she's distracted, and he comments that what she showed to Marinette looked pretty nice; I don't know because they didn't show it. Nino asks what it was and Alya evades the question, stating that her battery is running out. Nino is suspicious, but spots Andre's ice cream cart and the two head over there. Andre calls them his favorite couple and asks what they want, but Alya sees Ladybug gesturing for her and has to run off, giving Nino a cheek kiss as she goes which feels like too little too late at this point.

Nino catches some conveniently-placed kids arguing over who Chat Noir loves, but they settle on the fact that girls in general love Chat Noir. Nino is then seen at the Seine watching the Ladyblog's latest video, where Alya is talking up how amazing Chat Noir is. I hate to stop every five seconds to complain - okay, actually I don't - but I presume this video must've been made after the movie since Nino seems like the type who would actively follow his girlfriend's blog, yet not only is this video perfectly set up to echo the kids and the movie preview, but Alya - despite apparently caring about her boyfriend soooo much that she kept trying to convince Marinette to bend the rules - didn't even try to warn Nino or text him so he doesn't take it too seriously. It's like "Sentibubbler" with the conflicting messages about identity rules; Alya cares about her boyfriend but both isn't thinking about how he'll take the things she says and apparently doesn't know him well enough to realize that he wouldn't be mad over her keeping a secret that she was told to keep. I already talked about how they play up Nino to be the emotionally weaker one of the relationship, but then they don't have Alya try to cover or make up for that. She's been acting very much not like Alya - you know, the one who in "Sapotis" practically bragged about how great she'd be at covering for Ladybug - with her stutters and weak excuses, so I can't completely blame Nino for being upset after everything that's happened when he sees the writers projecting onto Alya as she talks about how Chat Noir is brave and funny and cute and showing all these images of him as well. I don't agree with all of his actions, but--oh yeah, speaking of which--

Nino calls Adrien and is talking to him about how Alya must be in love with someone else. Adrien dismisses the idea, as Alya and Nino are together basically all the time, and asks who she could possibly be in love with. When Nino suggests that it's Chat Noir, Adrien laughs and jokes about it being Fang instead. Nino points out the video but Adrien did see it but is overall unphased and convinced that it means nothing. Nino says that he'll find proof and hangs up, but Adrien is certain he'll find nothing. Plagg comments that Nino will find someone because Plagg's charisma has definitely contaminated Adrien.

Ugh.

Adrien expresses concern that he put on the cat's charm too much and accidentally made Alya fall for him, and decides to visit Alya as Chat Noir to be sure.

Meanwhile, we get a reference to film noirs as Nino narrates. That's the second blatant reference this episode and now I feel like they wrote this script while doing a movie marathon.

Chat Noir arrives at Alya's house and Trixx hides before Alya opens the curtains to reveal her surprise guest. Nino is nearby watching the scene with his phone as Alya wonders aloud if something's wrong. Chat assures that everything's fine, but brings up the video she posted. He insists that it made him happy, but points out that she's been following him and Ladybug since the beginning and that they know each other much better due to everything that's happened. He has some conveniently-worded dialog as he starts to say that he hopes something's just an illusion and Alya gets worried that he's about to bring up Rena. Chat continues and clarifies that he wonders if she started to feel something for him, though adds that he understands because just look at him.

UGGGGH.

Chat clarifies by making a heart with his hands, which Nino sees. Alya laughs at this gesture and states that she has a boyfriend, doing the same heart gesture and suggesting that her love for Nino is even more than that. Chat Noir apologizes - hm, I didn't know he had the capacity to do that - and hugs Alya, saying that he was just confused.

An absolutely unnecessary hug for two people who, at least in terms of their current selves, have had very little screentime together, but this is also the show where making eye contact basically means your friends and it's all just to push the plot along so Nino inteprets that Alya is in love with Chat Noir, so whatever I guess.

Alya states that Nino is far more irresistable than Chat, then adds that she doesn't even know his secret identity, and she'd never fall in love with someone she doesn't know. Nino then runs away upset and the scene cuts away to the next day where--

Wait, wait, wait, hang on a second. Two things right off the bat there.

First off, we're just gonna sidle past that "wouldn't fall in love with someone you don't know the identity of" while ignoring the existence of the love square? Not even Chat thinking about how he doesn't know Ladybug's identity and trying to excuse that he doesn't have to? This guy is that certain of their relationship?

Secondly, Nino is practically sobbing and Shadow Moth doesn't take this as his opportunity? Same guy who akumatized Mr. Pigeon 72 times and has akumatized Gigantitan more than once? What is this pacing???

But--alright, so Adrien comes into school and sees Nino, still dressed up in his detective gear, which gets ignored completely as Adrien goes to tell him about Chat Noir and Alya. Because the show doesn't know how Adrien would convey this within reason, Nino interrupts him, taking him down into the lower part of the school where he has a desk and chairs set up. Adrien goes to ask when Nino had time to do this, but Nino slams his hand on the desk to cut him off. Nino presents the evidence he took and they go back and forth, likewise with Adrien turning off the background music while Nino turns it back on. Adrien insists that it's a misunderstanding, but pleads innocent when Nino asks how he knows. Adrien states that Alya is just a superhero fan and that she and Chat Noir have nothing in common.

Again, the complete lack of self-awareness is astonishing.

Adrien repeats what Alya said about secret identities and how she wouldn't fall for someone she doesn't know - they're really ignoring this, aren't they? - and continues hitting Nino's soft spots about how unlikely it is until Nino decides to tell Adrien something he's not supposed to.

He tells Adrien, not only that Alya is Rena Rouge, but that he's Carapace. Adrien goes through a range of emotions beyond sAD for once, shocked at the fact that they know each other's identities. Nino states that they don't keep secrets from each other, except now Alya is with Chat Noir. Adrien still doesn't understand and brings up how secret identities have to be protected, or else Nino wouldn't have told him because Ladybug wouldn't agree to it.

Oh, here we go. So that's why they waited.

Nino states that it was Ladybug herself who gave them their miraculouses at the same time; not giving the reason why, of course, nor pointing out that they're temporary heroes so there's understandably some leeway. Adrien is having a moment, but manages to bring the subject back to Alya and Chat Noir, who he still doesn't think are a thing. Nino argues that it's because Adrien doesn't know Chat Noir, but he does because he's Carapace and knows how Chat Noir acts. He says that it's all flowers and confessions when Ladybug appears, but he gets rejected because Ladybug thinks that he's annoying, and she's right. He adds that Chat flirts with Rena Rouge and that's all that needs to happen, with Chat stepping in on the first mission Carapace lost in. Nino laments the loss of the love of his life and wishes to shut Chat Noir up forever; we all do, Nino, we all do. Shadow Moth finally steps in with - oh, less than eight minutes left in the episode, yikes - and Nino is akumatized into Rocketear.

Rocketear rejects Adrien's pleas to stop, insisting that Chat Noir is who he's after, not Adrien, and Adrien transforms in sad fashion despite Plagg's reminder of who Rocketear is after. Alya, meanwhile, is in the art club with Marinette - wait, since when was Alya in the art club - telling Marinette about how Chat Noir thought she was into him due to the video, which Marinette groans at. There's an earthquake and they peek outside to see Rocketear firing his tears at Chat Noir, shouting that he stole Alya from him. Chat Noir tries to tell him otherwise, but Rocketear won't listen.

Alya groans at Nino doing this, then she and Marinette set off to find a place to transform. They conveniently go to the same place Adrien and Nino were, so they see the desk that Nino had set up.

Genuine question, how seriously does this episode want me to take itself, because now when I recount all the unnecessary love square drama in my head - because you know that's where this is going - I'm going to have to think, "Nino, dressed in a detective outfit, ripped off his fake mustache and told Adrien both his and Rena's identities, and also that Ladybug was totally cool with it and thinks that Chat Noir is annoying."

Gettin' two completely different vibes here. The episode clearly wants to be important but it doesn't take itself seriously either, which it totally could while including enough jokes to keep things light. Instead, I'm just left scratching my head and wondering what tone they're going for.

Marinette finds Nino's phone on the desk - I'm calling continuity error on that one because he at no point put it on the desk, at least not on-screen - and she questions Alya on the video she sees. Alya insists that nothing happened, apparently completely unphased by her boyfriend having spied on her, and says that he wouldn't have misunderstood if he'd heard the actual conversation.

The two transform and Ladybug immediately uses Lucky Charm, receiving a projector. Ladybug is clueless and Rena Furtive suggests creating an imaginary movie like Nino. Ladybug gets an idea, remembering Alya's earlier comments, and Rena confirms that she remembers every word of it.

Aaaaand, just like that, all of the tension has been completely sucked away. You know, "Backwarder" was a trash episode, but at least when Ladybug was showing every step of her plan, she didn't tell us what it was.

Meanwhile, Rocketear and Chat Noir are still arguing--I started zoning out at hearing the same thing over and over again at this point, so I just presume they were fighting over who does stuff behind their love interest's backs better; I don't think they came to an agreement but they're both losers anyway.

Chat Noir says that he'll prove his innocence, tossing his baton aside to show him giving up, but Rocketear points out that it proves nothing and strikes Chat Noir with his tears.

Our endgame love interest, everyone. Straight As yet about as smart as a sack of bricks, and that at least won't flirt with anyone non-consensually.

Chat Noir makes a point that he doesn't want to hurt Rocketear, and Shadow Moth tells Rocketear to take his miraculous before finishing him. Chat Noir can only weakly tell him not to before Ladybug snags Rocketear's wrist and diverts the shot. Ladybug explains to Rocketear about the projector and how it'll let him hear the audio of the recording he took. She adds that she doesn't know what Chat said, but she trusts him.

Marinette, I'm sorry, I feel so bad for you.

Ladybug turns on the projector and Rocketear relaxes at actually hearing what was going on. Rena then de-transforms and hurries out to meet with Rocketear, hugging him as Rocketear apologizes for doubting her. Alya also kinda sorta apologizes in a way I don't understand and Rocketear then breaks his akumatization, very casually, all on his own.

Yeah, just--casually, in a matter of seconds in fact. You know, it's really sad when people resisting akumatizations are more tense and emotionally compelling than them breaking them. This is twice in one season now and has zero impact considering that Nino's reason for being akumatized was already taken care of so he had no reason to stay akumatized anyway. Him breaking his own object to release the akuma would've at least been different, but instead it's just a repeat of what Alya went through with even less tension considering that Alya's wasn't even that good in the first place, relying on her relationship to Ladybug rather than who she knew to be her best friend.

Moving on, Ladybug captures the akuma and uses Miraculous Ladybug to bring everything back to normal. Shadow Moth monologues about how love and secrets don't go well together and he's sure that she has a lot and I'll talk about this later.

Ladybug hands over the magical charm, which Nino takes but insists that he won't need it, as he'll never let Shadow Moth use his love to manipulate him again. Plenty of other things to get akumatized over, but they gave the supposedly ace character a robot to help him stick out and also gave the supposedly aro character a miraculous back in season one to give her more importance. If characters aren't in love then they need something to ceompensate for it.

Nino apologizes to Chat Noir for being wrong and Chat Noir assures him that everyone has doubts, even him. He gets sad and Ladybug asks him what's wrong, but he insists that he's fine - officially throwing away his right to be upset at her later as far as I'm concerned - and they do their usual fist buuuuu--

...Really?

Everyone then splits up and Chat Noir sulks by himself instead of--you know, talking to Ladybug, or asking her anything, or making any sort of excuse for her because that would mean he actually has faith in her and understands that their partnership is different from temporary heroes, even if the excuse was as basic as her wanting to protect him more than the others because he would be that egotistical if they didn't want to stretch out this unnecessary drama.

Later on, Adrien is staring at a picture on the Ladyblog that might be a metaphor for the show considering how "in the foreground" Chat Noir and Rena are.

Adrien vents about Ladybug giving miraculouses to Alya and Nino, but Plagg states that she's the guardian. Adrien clarifies that he's referring to Alya and Nino knowing each other's identities, but Plagg doesn't see the issue. Adrien gets huffy and asks why the rule exists for LadyNoir but not Ninya, but Plagg again points out that she's the guardian, so she makes the rules, though obviously he uses cheese metaphors to convey it.

Okay, Plagg is only, like--half-right because he doesn't have all the information. If you don't mind me rambling for a bit, I'm on the fence here because, on one hand--yes, I agree that Marinette should be allowed to make her own rules, and I often do that in my writing because I think she should be permitted leeway in order to let herself be happy, but on the other hand, it's not technically her rule, as she had to let Alya and Nino in on their identities back in the Season 2 finale, so Fu was still around for a season. She wasn't even guardian yet!

Now, presumably so the fandom could blame Marinette if anything happened, Marinette never discussed this with Fu on-screen, so I can't say whether or not Fu knew, but I feel like he must've since Marinette had to have told him the heroes' identities off-screen, given "Party Crasher," and thus I imagine that Marinette would tell Fu everything that happened, which is consistent with what she does on-screen even if she'd keep things from him for a little while.

"Furious Fu" had also established that not even Master Fu followed rules completely, meaning that Marinette is in this awkward spot of mostly following what Fu taught her, which aren't all guardian rules anyway, and having to break the rules on occasion for various purposes. I can't say what Fu approved of and what he didn't, because episodes spend so much time on the love square that they forget about Marinette as a person and how she interacts with everyone else. From an emotional standpoint, I can't blame Marinette for not revoking the miraculouses of people whose identities get discovered because of her, as I imagine she feels guilty and it probably doesn't seem fair to force them into another miraculous or have them be entirely without one because of a mistake that she made, meaning that someone needs to be throwing a lot of red flags for Marinette to be through with them.

Though obviously, from the show's standpoint, it's just an excuse to not make new models, but I complained about that enough in "Sentibubbler" and this episode even went out of its way to design a detective model for Nino while spraypainting Alya's bodysuit in the same breath, so this is the world we live in.

Anyway, Marinette is essentially in this position where she still has Fu's rules hovering over her, but she's also trying to step out on her own and make her own decisions to varying degrees of success or failure depending on your point of view. Tikki--wait, no, bad idea--Su-Han then, could easily give input on these things, perhaps with Marinette discussing a modern day set of rules for someone her age and going back and forth with Su-Han on what the right choices to make are, finding something that's comfortable but within a realm of predictable control. Su-Han was okay with some rules being broken after seeing how Ladybug handled them and they could've easily made this episode about that instead, but instead, we get rules being set and then being broken on a writer's whim.

Which now brings us to the end of the episode, where Marinette is on the phone with Alya and apologizes for causing trouble between her and Nino. Alya tells her not to worry and she'll fix things - you know, those things that, to Marinette's knowledge, have already been fixed - and asks if Marinette trusts her. Marinette does, and Alya hangs up in order to face Nino.

Yeah, that feeling of dread in your stomach? That means you know how predictable the writing is and what's about to happen, good for you.

Alya explains that she has to tell Nino something and he's worried, this time trying to sheepishly break the tension. She explains that she's still Rena Rouge, much to Nino's shock, and adds that she's in hiding, which is why Ladybug didn't want her to tell anyone. Nino asks why she's telling him if she's not supposed to tell anyone - proving my point from a while back that he wouldn't have been upset had she kept it a secret - then asks if Ladybug agreed with it.

I want to give him a pat on the back for considering Ladybug, but he didn't even tell her when he had the chance that Adrien knows his identity now, so I'm just beaten down at this point.

Instead of answering the question directly, Alya says that she can't hide her identity from him because she loves him and they don't have secrets.

You know, like Nino telling Adrien about Rena's identity, or Alya saying specifically that she's a permanent holder, which I'm sure both of them will confess to since they said that they don't have--aaaaand the episode ends on happy triumphant music, okay.

I mean, I guess Alya at least didn't tell him that Marinette was Ladybug, but that is such a low bar and not even remotely worthy of congratulations when Alya told Nino the specific thing that Marinette told Alya not to tell; the thing that they had agreed on.

Nino wasn't upset anymore. He won't be getting akumatized either. Alya endured the supposed hardship of being a permanent fox holder for four episodes before breaking down and telling her boyfriend. Even her excuse doesn't hold any water because, again, they're both still technically keeping a secret, particularly Alya who knows Marinette's identity as Ladybug. The episode also apparently forgets that Alya and Marinette's friendship must not be as strong by her logic of telling Nino specifically everything, as Alya kept Rena Rouge a secret from Marinette for all of Season 3, but tells Nino about continuing to be Rena Rouge in Season 4. Boyfriends before BFFs without explicitly saying it, or to be more specific, whatever screws Marinette over the most, because that's what this comes down to, made worse by "Optigami" where Marinette told Alya that she'd tell her everything and I guess that doesn't go both ways.

"Sentibubbler" had Alya stress that no one would ever know. She promised Marinette and told Marinette to trust her, and the episode spent its entire running time talking her up and assuring Marinette that she was the right choice, even considering Marinette ridiculous for worrying when Alya had done something without Marinette's permission the episode right before it. Then, three episodes after "Sentibubbler," when Marinette is finally comfortable and trusts Alya completely, Alya betrays that trust. Nino betrayed that trust, knowing he wasn't supposed to do so but telling Adrien his and Rena's identity anyway, because he was losing an argument and needed to PROVE something.

Marinette gives them an inch and they take a mile. Marinette bent the rules so that they could continue to have the miraculous they'd started with and they disrespected her because it was hard for like a day.

And if this bites them back, it won't reflect poorly on them, it'll reflect poorly on Marinette.

It's not like Alya just overrode Marinette. She didn't go, "Hey, I'm telling Nino, I'm sorry," or tried her hardest to go back and forth with Marinette until they both agreed. No, she did what she told Marinette she wouldn't do without saying a word to her, because LOVE and SEEEECRETS.

And this only applies to her, of course, because don't think I didn't notice the parallels between this episode and "Truth," because WOW.

Episode begins with Marinette hoping for something and it blows up in her face? A date at the cinema that ends on a sour note? Plot-centric couple trying to get Andre's ice cream and the female with a secret needing to leave in a hurry? Boyfriend character getting akumatized over their girlfriend's secret? Boyfriend assumes/suggests that the girlfriend's secret involves Aaaaaadrien - or his alter-ego in "Rocketear"'s case - and the episode hints as much to him even though he's completely wrong? Akuma's colors are blue and black? THE BRIDGE?

But, ahhh, little difference, here and there, y'know, like how Marinette was forced to break up with her boyfriend while Alya got to keep hers, and Nino got to have long talks with Alya while Luka got little to nothing with Marinette.

Because do note that Alya, while trying to convince Marinette and talk to Nino about not keeping secrets, at no point suggests that Marinette deserves to be happy and deserves to have a boyfriend and that Marinette should be allowed to tell Luka her secret so they can get back together, so you have Alya here selfishly prioritizing her relationship with Nino while making no comment about Marinette's relationship, essentially asking Marinette to allow her what Marinette herself didn't have the luxury of, and Alya knows this because Marinette told her. It is both incredibly insensitive of Alya and incredibly insulting of the show to make so many parallels between this episode and "Truth" just to have everything crash down for Marinette because she's Marinette while everything goes well for Alya and Nino because they're not Marinette.

We've talked before about the formulas that are literally baked into the show, and one of those is how Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and has to learn from it. What that mistake is in this episode, I don't know, but considering that she apologizes for Alya and Nino's problems, I guess the show blames her for what they themselves had taught her.

Point being, there's a clear karma system in place, but it only applies to Marinette, and forcing her to mess up in every episode means that she is literally not allowed to be with Luka because had she been able to clear things up between them, he would've eagerly accepted her and they could've been happy. It'd be too difficult for her to mess up when Luka doesn't put mountains of pressure and expectations on her like everyone else. Factor that in with how she can be herself around him and it leads to situation that are too difficult for her to screw up in because her mistakes - more often than not - center around Adrien or her role as guardian.

And because another rule in the show is to bring up Adrien so they don't "lose him for too long," she can't avoid bringing him up either. If he's not in the plot, he has to be mentioned, leaving Marinette in a lose-lose situation that she'll never be free from.

So, let me just get this straight then:

The guy who spied on his girlfriend instead of talking to her about his assumptions gets to keep his girlfriend, not because he realized it was wrong regardless of whether he was correct or not, but because the situation had been cleared up for him, yet the guy who actively resisted his akumatization, saddened by his girlfriend's secrets but wanting her to share them when she was ready, gets broken up with and tossed to the wayside because he's not a rich blond boy who got a miraculous because he happened to be within the twenty meters of space where Fu was searching for new holders?

Meanwhile, the girlfriend who has gone against the wishes and insistence of her best friend - guardian of the miraculouses, by the way, so she calls the shots, something that Alya herself said in "Optigami" BEFORE GOING ON TO DO HER OWN THING IN THE SAME EPISODE AND BEING REWARDED FOR IT - is allowed to go against the wishes and insistence of her best friend again for the sake of "all love, no secrets" with her boyfriend and so she can have the happy ending she wants, yet the girl who was chosen for a miraculous without her consent, forced to screw up and talk about a random boy who doesn't even go out of his way to spend time with her, treated like absolute trash by writers who find humor in her misery, and is the only one to receive overly harsh and long-lasting consequences for her actions while also covering up and forgiving the actions of others within the episode where they do it...

doesn't get her happy ending, and won't ever get her happy ending. That thing Shadow Moth said about love and secrets not going well together? Yeah, only goes as far as the writers want it to, because both Nino and Alya still have secrets, and some of the ones they did tell each other were forced by someone else and kept until that very moment. This idea that people in love have to tell each other everything and that it makes a relationship stronger makes me immensely uncomfortable, and that lesson is also in "Guiltrip."

People should be allowed their secrets, and obviously there are exceptions for things that are being hidden with malicious intent, but being essentially forced to share everything or risk not having a "full and complete" relationship is stifling and sounds like it'd only cause stress.

This episode sucks. It furthers and confirms everything I've already thought about the show, Nino's screentime continues to be dependent on Adrien, Alya, or both, there are pointless references that completely take me out of the experience, and the utter betrayal from Alya and supposed message of the episode just reminds me that Marinette is inevitably going to be stuck with a guy who didn't even DO anything in this episode and is going to let himself stew instead of asking for any sort of clarifications from someone he apparently trusts so much.

So the takeaway is that Marinette's life is awful, she'll be forced to apologize for rules that she didn't even come up with herself, her best friend will walk all over her for the sake of her relationship with a guy - not even for the sake, really, they were going to be fine, it was more for HER personal comfort if anything - and the guy who actually makes Marinette happy and could've known her identity instead BECAUSE HE AT LEAST DIDN'T HAVE A TRACK RECORD OF SPILLING HER SECRETS gets treated in the exact same way that she does; like nothing, just something to abuse unfairly.

What a waste of an episode.

#MC's Videos #category: episode summaries #category: salt #salt: adrien agreste #salt: chat noir #salt: alya cesaire #salt: nino lahiffe #video: critique #MC's Renders #render: persona #episode: Rocketear #((I would usually apologize for rambling but you guys seem to like it lol.))#((I could still afford to trim down the summary probably and repeat myself/ramble a BIT less but yeah.))#((I'm also feeling a little more comfortable this time around))#((which might come off in my inflections.))

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (5)

Nightmare

No lyrics in this chapter, because the song in the title has no words. But it really embodies everything I wanted to say with the chapter.

Also, ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN CHOO CHOOOOOO

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Do you have those drafts ready for the meeting?” Asked Marinette, peering into her co-worker’s office, a very peppy woman named Jill.

“Of course! I’ve gotten them matted, just like you asked. 10, right?”

“Yes! Thank God someone is doing their job right today.”

“Oh, Marinette, where are your shoes?”

Marinette looked down to her bare feet. “Oh, I wore pumps that are great for working at my desk and walking to the water cooler, but they got kicked off somewhere around 9 this morning.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Have you seen Tim? He’s fixing the sizing sheet and I can’t find him anywhere!”

“Did you try his office?”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Tim has an office?! Since when?”

“Since always? Are you okay? You look like you could use a nap…or at least a cup of coffee.”

Marinette groaned. “No naps! No more coffee! My heart is just a hum now anyway! I haven’t been able to sleep the last few days and last night I didn’t sleep at all. I got this weird phone call—“ she stopped herself before she said too much. “Anyway, yes, Tim does have an office. I forgot.”

“And he’s always so good at emails, you never need to talk to him. I know. We had this same conversation last week.”

Marinette groaned again as she covered her face in shame. “Why is Mr. Agreste doing this to me?”

“Speaking of Mr. Agreste, have you gotten any answers from him today? I’ve sent three emails and he’s not responding at all. Apparently Tim’s having the same problem with Adrien.”

“I haven’t heard a thing from the manor. Not Gabriel, not Adrien, not even Nathalie. We’re supposed to have a meeting at 2, but I haven’t heard if that’s still on.”

“Doesn’t Adrien usually come into the office on meeting days?”

“He did…I don’t know what's up with him. He was being super cagey with me yesterday when I went to talk to him.” She sighed, hunching her shoulders. “I’m worried.” She didn’t disclose the truth of the conversation, that Adrien had effectively ended their friendship. It was too painful, but too fresh to ignore.

“I’ve been working here since Emilie was still around. Gabriel went through a huge personality shift when she disappeared. Maybe Adrien takes after his dad? Maybe something happened?”

“Ugh, don’t talk like that, I’ll just worry more!” An alert beeped from her phone, letting her know she had an email. “Ah! An intern’s job is never done! See you later!”

“Good luck, Marinette!” Jill called. After she left, she added, “you’re going to need it.”

At two o’clock, the department heads and designers all came together in the conference room. Marinette set up her laptop to the screen and had the presentation open, as well as the Skype call to Gabriel.

He had yet to join the session, but it was still a few minutes before the meeting officially began.

“I see you’re wearing shoes now,” said Jill.

“I don’t know if I could handle the ridicule from Mr. Agreste if he saw me bare foot in the conference room.” Marinette chuckled weakly.

“As if Gabriel would ever reprimand you,” said someone else. “He adores you.”

“That must be why he took a vacation and told no one,” she laughed again. Was her filter fading with all this sleep deprivation? Probably.

Finally, the call started, but Nathalie took the helm instead.

Before questions could be asked, she announced, “I’m afraid this meeting must be postponed.” No ‘hello’, no ‘thank you for your patience and hard work’. It was enough to make Marinette snap in all of her exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

“Nathalie, with all due respect, everyone is here and ready to go. Why isn’t Gabriel ready?” She huffed.

Nathalie glanced away from the camera, a tell that she was about to deliver a great blow. “Mr. Agreste is deceased.”

The room went silent. Someone dropped a pen.

Marinette fell into a chair, feeling like the ground was shaking under her.

“Early this morning, both Gabriel and Adrien passed away. A joint visitation and funeral will be held at the manor on Friday evening and Saturday morning, respectively. Everyone is invited, but it’s not mandatory, of course.”

Marinette couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat; it was so thick.

“The fall line will not be released this season. Two weeks paid vacation will be passed on as we prepare the new head designer to take Gabriel’s place.”

Someone asked, “Who is the new designer?”

Most heads looked to Marinette, knowing the answer.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been determined to be the new head designer.”

She sputtered out of her shock. “What? Me?! No! Surely not! I’m just an intern!”

“Intern to the head designer,” someone clarified. “We all knew you were going to be hired as his assistant soon. It was obvious.”

“But—but—“ she stammered. It was rather obvious, thinking about it. Gabriel was just waiting for her to secure that college degree to make it official. “I can’t! I just—“ Without any preamble, tears burst forth and rolled down her face.

Adrien was gone.

Her best friend. The love of her life. Without a goodbye, and on such horrible terms.

Screw the responsibilities, the job title didn’t matter. She didn’t care at all.

Several arms wrapped around her, her coworkers, her friends, comforting as best as they could.

“No one is expecting you to jump right in,” Nathalie explained. “You were quite close to both of them.”

“What about you?” Marinette rasped out.

“I had my moment earlier. I’m in business mode now. If anyone would like more details, please reach me privately.”

And she left. Like a whirlwind, leaving destruction in her path.

“Can you get home on your own?” Someone asked Marinette.

She thought she confirmed affirmative, but someone led her from the room with an arm around the shoulder. Maybe it was Tim. She didn’t really know. She didn’t really care.

When she arrived home, she dropped her purse on the floor. Where were her other bags? At the office? Oh well, didn’t matter now.

Nothing mattered anymore.

“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alya and Nino were home, they were here and alive, and they didn’t know.

They didn’t know and she had to tell them.

“He’s gone,” She whispered.

“Who?” Asked Alya, resting a comforting hand on her arm.

“Adrien…he—he’s dead.”

“…what?” Nino squeaked out. “H-how? Why?”

“I don’t know…he and Gabriel—“ she stopped and flexed her hand. Her phone was still in her hand. It held answers.

She called Nathalie on video.

“Hello Marinette. I’m glad to see you made it home safe. I was worried.”

“What happened?” She blurted. “Nino and Alya know that he died. What happened?” Because there had to be a reasonable explanation.

Nathalie’s face morphed from serious business to pain and pity. “Are you sure you want to know?”

God, with a preamble like that, it couldn’t be good. Not painless like Carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep, and not instant like a car accident.

“Please Nathalie, I have to know.”

She breathed shakily and admitted, “it was a murder-suicide, as enacted by Adrien. He first stabbed Gabriel, and then himself.”

“Augh!” Marinette sobbed out. It was an ugly sound that couldn’t be controlled or silenced.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could lie…but I can’t. Adrien had been acting strange lately…I think Gabriel knew this was going to happen.”

“No! You’re lying!” Marinette yelled. “Adrien loved his father! He would never—he’s not like that!”

“Marinette, I saw them. Adrien was obviously deeply disturbed.”

“SHUT UP!!” She ended the call and dropped the phone on the floor.

Then she looked to her friends, who were both bawling like her. Nino moved first and pulled her into a tight hug. Alya came around the other side, crushing her in a Marinette-sandwich.

“You’re right, he wouldn’t do that.” Alya offered. “But they’re both gone, so we can’t prove anything.”

“If Nathalie didn’t tell the office, then the truth might never come out,” Said Nino, nodding in reassurance. “Only the four of us will have any idea.”

After a long time, numbness started to set in. There was a degree of disbelief in her still, where she may have heard it, but she didn’t see it.

That left room for doubt.

Without a word, she took her phone from the floor and wandered back to her room.

After the door closed, Tikki appeared. “Marinette…”

But she wasn’t listening. She was staring at her phone screen, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

Then she started a call.

It rang and rang and rang and rang…

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now. But leave me a message or shoot me a text, and I’ll get back to you. Hope you have a great day!”

The phone beeped.

“Adrien,” she sobbed. “Adrien I know—goddamnit this sucks. I’m too late. I love you so much, and I’m too late. I wish I told you sooner. Even last night when you called—I’m sorry I didn’t know you were struggling. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to help you. I loved you so much and I couldn’t save you and I’m so sorry…”

“Marinette…” Tikki tried to tell her to stop.

“This is the closest I could get to telling you. And you’ll never hear it and—“

The phone beeped again, signaling the end of the recording.

She saved it, and set the phone down.

“Marinette…”

“What is it, Tikki? What’s so important?”

“I have to tell you something…but it’s really really bad.”

“Well, hit me with it. Today is literally the worst day of my life.”

“Adrien…well, he was Chat Noir.”

As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

“What?”

“Chat Noir. He was Adrien.”

“But—but he can’t be. You must be confused.”

“Marinette, he literally wore the earrings before.”

“I KNOW!” She screamed. “But you have to tell me he's someone else! Because I can’t lose both of them! I can’t do it Tikki!”

“I know it hurts. You two were literally soul mates. The Ladybug and Black Cat always are.”

“You’re not helping!” She sobbed.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Tikki allowed Marinette to sob for a while, letting her anguish spill out of her. Tikki just kept watch for the Akuma that never came.

“You know what you have to do next, right?” Asked Tikki.

“What?”

She sighed. “You have to go to the visitation and take back the ring.”

“I can’t do that!” Marinette cried, horrified. “I can’t! There’s no way!”

“We’ll he can’t be buried with it. You have to, Marinette.”

Marinette crawled into bed, still fully clothed and wept and wept and wept until her tears burned her cheeks and exhaustion took hold.

All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #the ghost of Smokey Joe #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #ladybug

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cozycryptidcorner · 4 years

Photo

Abel the Asrai (slight lemon)

This was April’s patreon story, which I forgot to post here, my bad, folks. Looks like it’s going to be a double event this evening.

There is a particular taste to the mist swirling around the beach, salty, new, the earth so still that you feel like it’s… off. The water of the ocean gently laps at the sand, though the waves are barely anything more than a small, muted ripple. Neither animals or bugs make any calls, an eerie silence descending on the landscape, save for the noises you and your crewmates make as you pull the rowboat to shore.

Your legs are wet, right up to your thighs, boots sloshing with an uncomfortable amount of water as you finally make it to the edge of the land, the oddness of the atmosphere slowly crawling under your skin, making you nervous. Quietly, you let out a breath, then turn to your crew members. “Same as we talked about on the ship. Scout only for food, do not talk with anyone here without coming to me first. We don’t know who to trust.”

A small murmuring of yes, captain lets you know that they hear and understand, so you have everyone split up, directing each group a certain direction. You don’t need any of them getting lost, so no one is allowed to stray far from the coast, especially since this is an unknown island. Leaving two of your gunslingers alone to guard the little rowboat, you head closer to the edge of the foreboding forest, large, green trees rustling quietly when you approach. There, you see a thin dirt path leading into the dark, so you take the liberty of moving deeper into the island.

The battle with the navy has left your crew in nasty shape, you need to find something to put into their stomachs. Hungry personnel tends to lead to unpleasant situations, and you’d appreciate avoiding those until you can get your people back to base. You take a moment to sit, pulling your shoes off and letting the water slosh out, then slip them back on. It’s still uncomfortable, but better than doing nothing.

There’s a biting chill to the air, even though it should be midday. Still, only the barest hint of sunlight peeks out from the foggy air, showing you the vaguest outline of the path, and after a few more minutes of nothing, you’re tempted to call it quits and head back to the beach. If there is a village tucked firmly into the center of the island, it might be too much trouble for you to go looking for it.

Turning around, you almost run into a man.

And that is strange, because you’re typically very, very good at discerning when someone is sneaking up on you.

He’s not particularly remarkable looking in his dull-colored, nondescript clothing, with a hood pulled up to his forehead. And he’s staring at you, his eyes wide, like he’s looking at a ghost.

You realize that maybe, with your rugged, choppy appearance, gun on your holster, machete in hand, blood staining the shirt that you haven’t bothered changing since the battle, he might feel a little threatened. Slowly, you lower the weapon, giving him what you hope is a decently friendly smile. You don’t want him running off screaming to the navy, because then you’d have to kill him, and you’re awfully tired of taking lives today, so you try to reassure him that you mean no harm.

“Hey,” you speak softly.

He’s slim, taller than you, but visually soft, you know you’d be able to take him on if it comes to that. Slightly shakily, he folds his pale, slim fingers together, and you can see his brain processing what’s happening. “Hello.”

A strange, weird pause.

You clear your throat, trying not to make any sudden movements, “Hi, um, I was just looking around for some fresh water and food for me and my crew. We, uh,” you glance down at the hastily tied bandage on your arm that was already coming free, “hit a rough patch a few miles out.”

“You’re human,” he says, almost in awe.

“Last I checked,” you say, trying not to sound too impatient.

“Is your crew human, too?” He asks,

“For the most part,” you say, slowly, “yes.”

He looks downright fascinated over that revelation, and before you have a chance to prod further, says, “you have a ship?”

You bristle, but do not sense any sort of malice coming from him. No, just a disturbing amount of… excitement, and that somehow also worries you. “Yes,” you say, slowly, not wanting to get into too much detail.

“Do you charter people?” He asks.

Ah, you see where this is going. “For the right price.”

He pauses, a bit of wind blown out of his sails. “What price are you seeking?”

“Gold, preferably. I’m willing to barter, though.” You look him up and down, more closely, eyes narrowed. What kind of person would need a sudden departure, and on that thought, what’s he even doing out here looking like some kind of… fancy vagrant?

“We would have to leave now,” he says, with a tone of urgency in his voice, “if I return for money, someone might suspect me of leaving.”

“So there is a village around here,” you say, turning around to see if you can find any hints of civilization. “Can you point me in their direction?”

“You don’t want to go there,” he says, frantic. “There’s a stigma against humans- you wouldn’t be welcome.”

“Why not.”

“All outsiders are… um, forbidden.”

There’s something else, something that you’re suspicious about. You don’t know what it is, yet, but you’re willing to indulge him in the idea that you’ll let him on your ship, even without knowing a lick about him. “Fine, what can you offer for me to give you safe passage?”

“I- uh,” he’s thinking now, brow furrowed, and you’re almost showing your impatience as he wastes your time. “I can… do stuff. On the ship, I mean.”

“Give me your hands,” you say impatiently, looking over his smooth, blemishless skin. “You’ve never worked a day in your life, have you?”

“I’m a fast learner,” he says, almost indignantly.

“I’m certain,” you say dryly, not entirely believing him, “but learning fast doesn’t mean you’re physically capable of work.”

He stares down at his hands like he’s never been so impossibly inconvenienced in his life by his own self. Another moment passes, still startling silent, and you’re just about to move around him before he says, quietly, “I can make clean water.”

You stop.

“Clean water, you say,” you muse, crossing your arms.

“Yes,” he sees that you’re listening, and that seems to get his hopes up. “Drinking water, straight from almost anything liquid.”

You mull the possibility over. No, it’s not unheard of, but it’s an incredibly rare trait that usually lands people with the ability one only the best, high paying ships, and that’s a luxury you and your scrappy crew can’t afford. Charting someone only on the promise of clean water? Unheard of. Most ships pay those who can travel with them.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “let’s say that you can- which is something you’ll have to prove before I let you on my ship. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

He’s desperate, which means that you can take advantage of that. Not too much, though, the last thing you need is an angry member of your crew capable of poisoning everyone with the one thing necessary for basic survival.

“Fine.” You gesture for him to follow you. “We’ll test your skills on the shore, then, if it’s satisfactory, we’ll discuss your end of the deal.”

He seems remarkably happy, following almost uncomfortably close as you make your way back through the forest. Luckily for you, it seems that most of the scouting groups have also made their way to the rowboat, most of their hands empty. The moment you’re within their eyeshot, you see them tense, eyes piercing the figure behind you, both you hold your hands up to communicate that there’s nothing to worry about.

Two of your best scouts have arms full of large, leafy greens, which you suppose probably would taste unfortunately horribly bitter, but will at least keep some of you going. The cook is known for their miracles, anyway, so they might be able to do something with it.

“Is this all?” You ask, struggling to hide your disappointment.

“It’s what we could find without venturing too far into the forest, captain, but…” your scout eyes the newcomer, “it seems that there’s a village.”

“One where we will be unwelcome to, according to him,” you say vaguely, though you’re giving them the same amount of information that you know. “But the good news is that he claims to be able to purify water, and he’ll do it in exchange for safe passage to our destination.”

There’s a shifting ripple moving through your crew, and you don’t blame them because that’s a tall fucking claim. To prove it, though, you take a couple dozen sloshing steps into the ocean, tugging him along, until the both of you are waist-deep in water.

“Do it,” you demand, glancing back at your crew to make sure they’re watching.

“Um,” he shifts, eyeing your crew nervously. “Is there something I can put the water in?”

At your hard stare, everyone pats their pockets down, but no one was holding an empty flask or stray goblet for him to use, so with a defeated sigh, he cups his hands, settling it below the surface of the mirror-like surface of the ocean. His eyes are closed in concentration as he raises his arms back up, and a soft, warm blue glow slowly illuminates his fingers as whatever magic he uses cleanses the salt and infection. After a moment, his eyes open again, and the glow is gone, and a puddle of perfectly clear water in his hands.

Oh, right. You’re going to have to test this.

“Christ,” you mutter, raising his hands to your lips and sip. The water is cold, despite the heat rising to your face, and go figure, absolutely no trace of salt. Calmly, you take another sip from his hands, letting the water swish around in your mouth for a moment, just to be sure. Then, as a precaution to make certain he’s not fucking with you, you dip two of your fingers into the sea and lick. Augh, yes, that’s salty as hell, there’s no way that he can pull a fast one on you like this. You turn to your comrades. “It’s clean.”

“So we let him onboard?” One of your navigators asks.

“Yeah, we’ll put him to work filtering out clean water.” As you say this, you notice the last of your scouts approaching, though they are empty-handed for a few roots and such. “Everyone, get onto the rowboat.”

He seems pleased, at least, but not the kind of smug pleased that you loathe. Like he’s deeply relieved, as though you’ve saved him from some horrendous fate. He sits, almost primly, in the center of the boat as you and the rest of your crew work to move back from the island.

Steadily, inevitably, the waves slowly kick back up, as though slowly breaking through a damn, and the mist of the island recedes to reveal a bright, blue, almost cloudless sky. The fog hangs over the island like a thick, viscous shield, obscuring anything within from passing sailors. No one sane would want to attempt to traverse such an unmappable area unless they’re ridiculously desperate, like you.

He’s tugging at his hood, pushing it back as the sun begins to radiate down harder, and you don’t blame him. Without going back to get anything else to wear, he’s unfortunately overdressed for the grueling work you plan to put him through. The energy he’ll have to output is ridiculously high, especially to keep up with the demands of a full ship and its crew, even more so because a portion of your freshwater barrels had been spilled and toppled by the cannon fire.

Your ship is in bad shape, it’s easy to see the damage as the rowboat approaches, burn marks along the wood marking where some dicks from the navy went ahead and tossed over some flaming cocktails. Glancing over at your new passenger to gauge his reaction, he seems none the wiser about the seemingly dire state of everything, and instead looks over at you, a spark of unrecognizable joy in his eyes.

Once all of you are on the deck, you have one of your crew fill a bucket full of seawater, then direct your newcomer to clean, so they all see. So long as they understand that he has a vital part to play, they’ll be less likely to give him the almost ritualistic hazing that most new, low-end recruits end up saddled with. However, even as your best navigator takes her first sip of water, you know that they’re still going to rag on him.

“He can sleep with the rest of the crew,” you say in passing, waving in his general direction.

“Did you make an official deal?” Your second asks, their brow furrowed.

“Not yet, but he seems willing and able to filter water. I figure once we get to our destination, he can either stay on as a crewmember as long as he wants, or leave once we reach the ports.”

“I can write up an airtight contract,” your second offers. “He looks fae, he should be biologically required to adhere to it.”

You look over at him, and you find that your second is right. Long, pointed ears extend out from his neatly braided hair, his eyes are just a tad too large and innocent-seeming for someone roughly your age. His odd fascination towards your species makes you wonder if he’s seen your kind before.

“That’ll be great.”

The injured are not in exceptional shape, but with clean water, at least, gives them a much better chance to make it through than otherwise. As he helps you haul a few buckets down to the lower deck, you ask, knowing full well the fae’s common abhorrence towards names, “is there something you want to be called by?”

He thinks it over for a moment. “You said something earlier, that I was… um, willing, and able?”

“Yes?”

His movements are smooth and graceful, his posture so perfect that you wonder where he learned it. “I like those words. Willing?”

“Um, what about Abel?” You suggest instead, placing the buckets down on a table.

Those bright, brilliantly blue eyes become unfocused, if only for a moment. “Yes,” he says, faintly, “Abel will do nicely.”

Your crew is slow to trust him, and you hardly blame them. There’s something just… a tad bit uncanny about him and his behavior, the way he stares at things, unblinkingly, for just a little longer than necessary, how his long, slender fingers feel out the textures of things he touches, as though he’s experiencing those things for the very first time, and how he seems to always just happen to be in the same room as you, all the time. Your only reprieve from him is your own private quarters, where no one is allowed to go unless specifically invited.

A rule he breaks within the first couple of days.

You find him standing over your dresser with a bucket of water, his eyes brightening when he sees you enter. After letting out a frustrated breath, you strip off your coat, tossing it senselessly onto your bed, and unbutton the top of your shirt. “Abel, you’re not supposed to come into the captain’s quarters unless specifically invited.”

“Oh,” he says, as though this is the first he hears about it (it’s not), “well, I filtered the water for you, as requested.”

You wait. He doesn’t move.

“Thank you,” you say, begrudgingly, “you can leave it outside the door next time.”

“It might get tipped over, then I’d have to start from scratch.” A pause, then. “And I’m getting a bit fatigued from doing this all the time.”

“Alright, fine,” you allow, knowing that water purifying is a demanding chore and that you’ve been pushing him harder than he’s likely ever been before, “you can bring it straight to my quarters.”

Seemingly satisfied, he leaves, and you give yourself the sponge bath once you make sure the door is locked tight. Your hair is choppily cut and always away from your face, though you don’t spare much care to it beyond the occasional brushing. Your goal for sponge bathing is usually only dedicated to making sure everything isn’t rotting from lack of amenities, being at sea and exposed to the grimy elements can leave a body feeling… gross, for lack of a better term. Every time you dock somewhere, you take a full day for yourself to clean... everything up.

Every day, right after dusk, he’s waiting in your room with a bucket of water. You don’t even know how he gets in, you’re very good at remembering to lock your door when you’re not in there. When you ask about it, sullenly, he smiles and gently reminds you that you’ve given him permission to leave the water when he’s done purifying it.

Then Abel asks to wash your hair for you.

You’re so caught off guard by the offer that it takes you a moment to fully process what he said. “I’m sorry, you’d like to what?”

“I’d like to wash your hair if you’d like,” he says, “I know how.”

You have to mull it over, like with most of his downright bizarre requests. “You’d like to wash my hair. And you know how.”

“Yes,” Abel nods, “with the powdery stuff. Back home, I would get my hair washed by- uh, and it felt nice.”

You conveniently don’t mention the part where he skipped over who specifically washed his hair, and cross your arms over your chest. “And why exactly are you interested in doing that for me?”

“It’s a relaxing experience, and you look stressed.”

“Really.” You don’t believe that’s it. “And no other reason.”

“I mean, not in a bad kind of stress,” he’s backtracking now, “you’re not shambling around like the undead or anything, but this might help you with everything else.”

You give it a moment of thought, trying to come up with every single reason he might have for sidling up close to you. Does he want better rations? A cut of the bounty? Less water duty? You narrow your eyes and look him up and down, wondering if the place he comes from has the same set of you work hard to earn rules and that he can’t just flirt his way into a better position.

Maybe you can give him this lesson the hard way.

“Fine,” you wave your hand, sitting in front of your desk. “You can wash my hair.”

He smiles, wide, but not threateningly, more… happy? Satisfied? Pulling the bucket closer to his position as he comes back behind the chair, and runs his fingers through your hair, once. “You’re quite tense, captain.”

It’s a struggle for you to relax, your jaw usually tightly gritted, shoulders tense, and ready to fight. Still, though, you don’t think that Abel would try to do anything, even with the clause in the contract forbidding him to hurt anyone in your crew, including you. Quietly, you lean back in your chair, stretching your neck as you look up to the ceiling, hands tightly gripped on the armrests, your breathing calm and controlled as he begins.

Abel’s fingers run through your hair, soft, but firm, nails gently scratching at your scalp. It feels good, despite the fact that you’re not so sure if you enjoy this show of intimacy, but you don’t voice complaints. It’s been a while since your hair got such a thorough washing, and he seems to know what he’s doing. Section by section, he works, parting your roots away, rubbing the baking soda in with the pads of his thumbs in soft, swirling motions.

Slowly but steadily, he works his fingers down your head, his knuckles brushing against the nape of your neck. Shivers run through your spine, an odd feeling churning in your stomach. The coolness of the water as he begins to rinse your hair gives you something else to focus on other than his closeness.

You try to get your voice to work, if only to think about anything but how his skin feels against yours. “Why did you want to come with us?”

He pauses, his entire body seemingly just stopping, fingers still tangled in your hair.

“If it’s because of something bad, we likely won’t care,” you try to prod, “most of us are murderers and thieves, anyway.”

“I-” his movements resume as he struggles for the words, “I didn’t want to get married.”

“Oh, that’s it?” The shadiness of his actions made you think that he committed patricide or something, not escaping an arranged marriage. “Half of my crew are dodging familial obligations, too. My second was almost sold off to a man with six wives.”

“I just couldn’t go through with it,” he’s almost defensive, though you suppose he wasn’t expecting such an anticlimactic reaction, “I didn’t even like my fiance… don’t get me wrong, she was a nice girl, but she was so-” he fumbles for the word, “dry.”

Your hairbrush isn’t something that you use beyond a couple of swipes in your hair, but Abel takes his time with it. Almost moving strand by strand, he makes his way from one end of your scalp to the other, brushing out any remnants of grease and powder, dipping your hair in water every so often to keep it soaking wet.

“There must have been an easier way for you to leave,” you say.

“None with such ease and without the high likelihood of getting caught,” he clears his throat, “I saw my chance for escape and took it.”

“That’s understandable,” you say, closing your eyes for a moment. “Are you happy with your decision?”

There’s a pause, telling you that he’s actually thinking over your question. “Work is difficult, but,” he adds quietly, “I prefer it to being an idle husband.”

You’re silent, thinking over his statement. “I can understand that. The life of a field worker wasn’t quite for me, either.”

He waits until your hair is all the way brushed out, then wraps a cloth around it to absorb the water. “May I do this again?”

Again, your suspicion flares. “Why?”

“Because I enjoy your company… and you don’t seem to pay me much mind when I’m with the other crew.”

“Jealous?” You ask, mostly joking.

“Very,” he says, and you’re not sure if he’s serious or not. “Sometimes I just want you all to myself.”

“I… suppose if you’d like to.”

“Good,” he says, “I get bored with nothing more than the water for company.”

You’re standing, rubbing the cloth into your locks to help it dry faster. “Do none of my crew interact with you?”

“I don’t think they trust me… even with the contract.”

You let out an impatient huff. “I’m sorry about that, they’ll warm up to you eventually. Or we’ll hit land first, and you’re free to go.”

There’s a long, drawn out pause before he agrees, “right.”

Washing your hair every single day would result in in you getting sick of how close Abel wants to be with you every time he does it, and would leave your hair dry and brittle. The powder is suitable for sucking up the oily grease that permeates your scalp after a few days, and it’s good for a complete purge once it gets out of control, but definitely shouldn’t be used regularly. Still, he makes sure that it’s a weekly event, and every Thursday evening, he’s in your room, bucket on your desk.

You figure out quickly that he doesn’t like talking about himself. He instead seems entirely focused on you, your life as a pirate, and before, though he answers your questions in that odd, monotone voice he uses when he’s not enjoying himself. Abel also struggles to acclimate into your crew, as most of them aren’t readily accepting passengers who plan on flouncing off the moment you hit land. However, he doesn’t seem to give any indication that he is planning on leaving. So you ask him outright.

“What are you going to do when we dock on land?” You ask as he slowly works his fingers into your hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to stay on as a member of my crew, or are you going to leave?”

He stops for a moment, all you can hear are the ripples from the water bucket as the ship slowly makes its way up and down with the waves, and his breathing.

“Are you okay?” You ask, peeping your neck a bit to get a look at him.

“I’m fine,” he reassures you, getting back to work, “I didn’t realize that I had an invite to continue on as a water purifier.”

“Oh, I guess I should have mentioned it more concretely before.” You lean back again, closing your eyes. “You’ve done more than adequate work, Abel, you’re more than welcome to stay on board and receive a cut of our bounty.”

“Really?” He asks like he can’t believe it.

“I’ll have to have my second draft up another contract, but yeah, Abel, you can stay if you’d like.”

“Say my name again,” he says, and you can hear a smile behind those words.

“What, Abel? Why?”

He lets out a satisfied sigh. “I just like it when you use my name. It sounds nice with your voice.”

You try not to snort. “Okay, whatever you say.”

Silently, he continues to work, as he usually does, parting your hair into neat little sections, going over them with a few pinches of baking soda, letting his nails gently scratch at your scalp. You’d never admit it to anyone, much less Abel, but you do feel better after each of your little sessions together, whether that be because of the cleanliness, or because of the company, you’re still having an internal war with yourself over.

A part of you doesn’t really want to admit that you’ve let him get under your skin, that you’ve started to care, because you’re not supposed to show favoritism towards any single person within your crew, but unfortunately… unfortunately it seems that he’s growing on you, rapidly, like mold on room temperature meat that’s been left out for a few days.

“I saw you flirting with your second in command,” he says, quietly, “are you and she together?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Juliet? No, she’s great and all, but not my type. We were just joking around.”

“What about that navigator?”

“Which navigator?”

“The one with the puffy black hair.”

“Oh, you mean Alexander,” you resist rolling your eyes, “he and I are just friends.”

“What about the-”

“Are you going to go down the list of my crew members to see if I’m in a relationship with them?” You ask, almost sourly, wondering what’s gotten into him.

“Are you? In a relationship, I mean.”

You sit up, out of his reach, your wet hair dripping and soaking into your shirt. “What does it matter?”

He’s trying not to look flustered, but there’s a telling blush in his dusty blue skin. “I was just wondering, out of curiosity. You seem- uh-”

“I seem what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I seem like what?”

“Like someone who can have whoever they want, when they want.” He says, almost sheepishly.

“Who, me?” You think he’s joking, he has to be joking, but his kind cannot lie.

He’s even more flustered now, backpedaling so hard he might snap his proverbial neck. “I just mean- um- you have this aura of confidence, captain, it exudes from you, and I thought that you might currently be… well, involved with someone.”

You squint at him, trying to see where he’s taking this. “So what? Does it matter if I’m involved or not?”

“No- no, of course not, stop looking at me like that, it was a stupid question.”

You settle back down, a tad bit tenser than you were before, though mostly from being caught off-guard by his question. Feeling like someone’s swept your legs from under you, verbal or otherwise, is uncomfortable, you never like it when someone has the upper hand. So, in the same fashion, but more casually, you ask, “what about you? Besides your fiance, have you seen anyone?”

“Not… particularly.”

“Hm, not particularly?” You do the thing where you take where the conversation is going and get there twice as fast to regain control of the situation. “No one caught your eye? You’re not allowed to take any lovers?”

“Not before-” he mumbles, something you can’t hear.

“What was that?” You ask innocently.

“That was a no.”

“Was it,” you smile serenely, “because it sounded like something about your wedding night?”

Abel sounds like he wants to throw himself into the sea. “I can’t... until the wedding night.”

“Who told you that you couldn’t have sex until the wedding night? What’d they say would happen? Hairy hands? That’s a myth, you know.” God, it never crossed your mind that he might never have been intimate before, especially with how fixated he seemed on you as if you might be his next conquest. Not his first. That definitely changes things.

The massaging slowly comes to a stop. “Where I’m from,” Abel says, slowly, “they have ways of making certain that it happens.”

You almost choke on your own spit. “I’m sorry, they have what?”

“They have ways of guaranteeing purity until the marriage night.” His voice is soft, but gruff, as though he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“That- that is so awful,” you feel pity, yes, but also empathy for a story that you’ve heard before- if in less extreme circumstances, but you’re suddenly overcome with your desire to solve other people’s problems in the hopes it might help fix yours (it never does). “Do you remember the direct wording of the curse?”

“I can’t forget it.” He sounds tired, like he’s had this conversation before. “I cannot feel the euphoria while in someone else.”

“You can’t feel euphoria while inside someone else? That’s it, exactly?”

“Well, no, I cannot… spill, inside someone.” He sounds even more sheepish than before, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear.

“That’s all?” You ask, frowning. “You can’t spill while inside someone else, but can someone else spill inside you?”

“No.” He says quietly.

“Alright,” it doesn’t take you too much of you to fully process and work to come to a new solution, “but if someone doesn’t spill inside you,” you try not to grimace at the language used, “can you… um, spill so long as you’re not inside anyone? Like touching yourself?”

He mumbles something, you take it as a soft yes.

“If someone enters you without spilling, do you think you might be able to try… um, the whatever?”

“I don’t know.” He looks like he hadn’t thought of it before. “Perhaps? But how would that happen?”

“Alrighty, then,” you try not to feel the heat in your cheeks, “have you ever heard about pegging?”

#slight lemon #asrai #fae #faery #asrai/reader #monster/reader #fae/reader #monster lovers #exophilia

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teatitty · 3 years

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AUGH. I can't stand that we know so little about the man from chaldea, so I was trying to crack that code, right? no big deal no big deal. But the sword he's claimed to carry in particular was kinda poking at my memory, since we know so little and yet that particular detail was highlighted. so naturally, because I'm a nerd, I did some reading back into the notes I took in prior classes, and it hit me that this mysterious blade may or may not be the literal sword of strange hangings. I mean, it's a known noble phantasm in the nasuverse, so it can poof into existence at will, and seeing as the sword was owned originally by david, but then made magical by solomon, and then passed down to lancelot in some tales (who eventually gave it to galahad) or passed down directly to galahad in other tales, it's safe to say it's a family heirloom. so it wouldn't be out of the question for the magical blade hearkened as the one seen in the "true quest for the grail" to make an appearance in this second, "truer" chapter of f/go, especially if used as a foil to nasu's favorite shiny - aka excalibur - the other (and arguably stronger, but I'm admittedly biased on that front) magical blade used to defend the realm and pursue divine justice by a "chosen king." and seeing as solomon's and artoria's stories are often held as inversions of one another, I am now looking at this mysterious sword like 👀 and figured I would get your thoughts, since you're always knowledgeable and on point (also thank you for making sure fionn gets the love he deserves and that turas realta fionn + diarmuid are seen and appreciated. you're a saint and your tireless efforts in dishing out quality content singlehandedly saved me from the fatal blow that was diarmuid's inverted ass in the manga)

"THE FATAL BLOW OF DIARMUID'S INVERTED ASS" I'M SOBBING BUT YOU'RE VERY WELCOME I am happy to suffer for all of our Fionn and Diarmuid needs <3

Also holy shit anon this is some S-Tier fucking sleuthing like I completely forgot about the man from Chaldea because it's been so damn long since I've seen anything about him anywhere but yes I do know about this sword! I'm not super familiar with biblical characters like David and Solomon but I am familiar with the Arthurian lore for it! (Surprising nobody I'm sure)

It appears in Queste del Saint Graal, and Galahad finds it on his quest for the Grail. It gets its "Strange Hangings" from Percival's sister when she replaces its girdle with one woven from her own hair. Before all of that, however, it was used by King Varlan of Wales to strike King Lambar of Listenois. When Varlan returned the sword to its scabbard he fell dead to the ground

You know who else wielded it to support your hereditary meta? King Pellam/Pellehan AKA Galahad's great-grandfather (mother's side of the family) who was slain by Balin le Savage (The Knight with the Two Swords) who in turn had a blade called the "Sword with the Red Hilt" which also ended up as Galahad's in some tales

So...yeah I think you might actually be 100% correct about that sword's identity and if not then The Grail needs to rethink its decisions and hire you instead cuz damn I am so impressed by the thought that went into this breakdown

#meta post #long post #my anons proving once more #to be smarter and more inventive than a good chunk of FGO's #actual writers and shit lol #Anonymous #asks

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madmadmilk · 3 years

Text

okay, fucking WOW. i need a place to rant and scream and cry a little bit. no need to read this,,,, (TW: homophobia, family)

wow.

i consider myself to be a pretty tolerant and open-minded person, i'll even ration out some patience towards ~prejudiced and idiotic people~ (if i have to). i 1000000% won't entertain their wack ass opinions, but i may not... totally cut them off for it. i just let them be...

but oh how fucking terrible.

(i'm working on clearing out the list of people i tolerate, ha)

but yeah. i have just been burned HORRENDOUSLY by my boyfriend's dad's-side of the family. i've put up with so many little things, but i may draw the permanent fucking line here....

maybe it's because i curate HAPPY, POSITIVE, and INCLUSIVE places for ME to hang out: within my family, with the friends i make, who i chose to share info with, with social media, with the movies and books i watch and read– i only make room for things that make me feel safe, and make my loved ones feel safe. it's pointless to live my life any other way than this. but maybe it has actually made me intolerant of having lasting relationships with people who make me feel otherwise

like..... it horribly feels like,,,, i fucking forgot how UGLY people are on the outside of this bubble. how truly IGNORANT, INSENSITIVE, DISGUSTING, and plain old MORONIC people are, when i'm forced to interact with them.

god. damn.

anyway here's what happened:

my bf's birthday is on sunday. he's celebrating with his lovely mom's side on saturday with a small picnic. then with his dad's family on sunday. (pretty much everyone is vaccinated except for me and him btw). but yeah, his mom's "party" is just him and i coming over for barbecue. his dad's would be something at home, and he told my BF to invite some friends over too, as long as the numbers stay below 10. fair, i guess. it just so happens that my boyfriend is closest friends with MY cousins right now; quarantine and PC gaming has brought them very very close together. it warms my heart that my family and my boyfriend accept each other so well.

sidenote: i'm cool with his mom's side. but his dad's side makes me feel like i need to consistently have my fists up and scowl on. they are horribly prejudiced.

so yeah, my boyfriend brought up inviting my three cousins over to his family. 3 whole brown filipino-chinese guys lol. extra detail but,, the oldest one is gay, and he asked if his boyfriend of 5 years could come over. [in my family, my cousin was super depressed before coming out– but since then, he is proudly himself and just... himself lol. idk he's just my cousin, and he's someone who has introduced me to so many cool things in life.]

>> so, out of courtesy, my BF tells my cousin about his homophobic family, and my cousin is still down with it cos he can deal. and again, out of courtesy, my BF tells his dad and his fucking step-mom about it too.

and they fucking ambush my boyfriend about it over (their) dinner. (i am not there) intially, they were excited to meet my family, as we've been dating for nearly 8 years and they haven't even met my parents yet. but once my BF explained that the plus-one WASN'T a girlfriend, and was instead a boyfriend of my cousin's,,, his step-mom lost her cool. she is loudly homophobic, and dismissive saying that she doesn't want to serve gay people in her house. she can """tolerate""" it outside, but she would never want to see them dirty her home.

my boyfriend is a sensitive, but seething soul and he was so appalled that he couldn't even speak. he was just shocked that her intolerance still finds new levels. his younger step-brother defended him, but in a 'gays are not even a big deal moom' kind of way. and the his step-sister/cousin was like, 'not a big deal chill.' and it just made him feel worse, because they're trying their best to calm the situation, but they're still stupid as fuck about it. i'm not sure what he was able to say befor ehe left....

but he just texted me crying saying that he feels so bad that he couldn't stand up for my family, our family. i told him it's alright– i understand the sudden pressure to answer, and that they are just the most selfish brand of people in the world. they're so stupid that i'm not sure they could even hear him. it's horrible, horrible horrible to witness this, even when you aren't being "discriminated" against. it is disturbing to see the ugliest side of people, YOUR FAMILY.

augh.

it makes me think that i've been protecting MY parents, MY sibling, MY extended family from theirs, by not introducing them sooner. they have never let me feel at ease enough to bring people that i love into their fucking stratosphere. god. they have said so many off-handed things for 7-8 years and i just can't stand it. why would i let my mom, or my fucking dad hear this? be around this? NO.

i'm literally simmering, because i told my BF that if my family ever came over while his family said some dumb shit, that i would become a villain in their home. i won't hold back, because those are MY cousins. god damn. i'm literally seething– because, at the same time, they would NEVER do stupid shit in front of me.

they are scared of me. of my opinions. of my voice. of my relationship with their son.

i had them on my facebook once, but once they supported That Fucking Guy, i visibly unfollowed, unfriended and spoke up against them. i draw lines, they know that about me. they know not to cross me or else i will snap back faster than their own son.

unfortunately for my boyfriend, he lives with that side of his family because of finances and other stuff. his older sister's have ex-communicated his dad because he cheated on HIS mom with HER brother's WIFE. that's why my boyfriends cousin is his step-sister too.

i can't stand this.

i know i protect myself with happy spaces, but that is so fucking unsavory. i'm not sure if i want to put up with them for the sake of my boyfriend. he's not even sure if he wants to put up with them. i don't want to judge but wow.

unbelievable.

i'm gonna go for a walk

#i'm sorry i just needed a space to type this out #honestly might delete later because the vibes are so bad #long post #personal #madmadmilk #tw #trigger warning #tw homophobia

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ziracona · 3 years

Text

[FGO AU -- The Kid (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ?)

“…Still nothing?” Her hands are perfectly still, muscles tensed and brow furrowed with all the concentration I ever seen on any mage, but, I think she can tell the answer before I give her a sympathetic smile. “AUGH,” she exclaims, flinging herself back unhappily into her seat, “Why! I’m trying my hardest! I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”

The mage folds over like a camp chair and deflates with unhappy sounds, sliding back against her own seat.

“Hey, come on now,” I try reassuringly, “It’s not so bad. I don’t know any magic at all, but pretty much all skills take more than an hour to come together.”

She lets out another long sigh and blows some hair out of her face, then straightens up a little. “Yeah, I know,” she admits, “But it’s not like I only tried today. Actually, I’ve…been trying to practice it like all week. So I’d be ready…”

Whoa.

I…guess I shouldn’t be surprised—I keep underestimating her, and her level of plannin’. She strikes me as impulsive, and she is—to the core—but, she’s smart too, and reasonable. Knows how it works, and thinks, just, goes for the long shots anyway. It’s a combination of traits I both like and can relate to.

“Still,” I offer, “You ain’t got a teacher, ‘n mage stuff’s complicated to learn.” She still looks incredibly down, but she nods as she stares vacantly through the bed past me. “…’Sides,” I add, “That medicine you gave me’s helpin’ a lot already—I’m feelin quite a bit better. And you don’t need to worry about havin’ to heal me, sooner or later. I’m getting’ a steady supply of mana from you, even if it’s slow, so my spirit core’s rebuildin’. It’s just gonna take it a little time. It won’t be like a real—human—bullet wound would be to heal.”

“Really?” she asks, perking up immediately.

“…Yeah.” I’m kinda surprised she didn’t know that. Girl seems to have a roulette-wheel of a library about my kind in her head. “At this pace, I should be back on my feet by mornin’.” Crap, it is morning. I forgot. I give the blinds a glance. “Or, --I mean a few hours.”

“That fast?” she asks, eyes widening.

I shrug, which hurts. Ow. Why…do I keep doing that? OW. DAMN it, Bill. When I’m not moving, I forget how much the entire left side of my chest is in agony when I do. “Not back to normal, but, on my feet,” I manage with my teeth clenched, trying not to let on how much that hurt.

She nods, thinking that over. “Can I do anything to help speed it up?”

I still can’t get used to that.

Kid’s so….fervent, and sincere. And nice to me. I’ve been awake for maybe an hour with her now, and I’m still not remotely used to it.

I refocus quick, and give her a smile. “Not more than you already have.”

“I could get you more food,” she suggests eagerly.

That’s probably true, actually, and I could use it. Just. “…Well, if you got some,” I stutter out. I am not used to feeling flustered, but I am realizing quick I am even less used to people bein nice to me. The odd heroic spirit maybe, but humans? Feels totally off now. Like I’ve snuck in somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

Happy, the kid snags her tray, but before she can leave I say, “—Actually though, uh, --before you go—I’m realizin spectacularly late here you still haven’t told me your name.”

She freezes with her hand on the tray and her face turns red. “CRAP, YOU’RE RIGHT!” the mage whips around to face me and gives a distressed bow. “I’m so sorry—I can’t believe—”

“—I-It’s fine, really,” I assure her, “Just you got me at a little bit of a disadvantage right now-”

“—Right! I-I’m sorry. I totally forgot! I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru,” she says, offering me a hand. It takes me a second to get she wants me to shake it, and I awkwardly do.

“Ritsuka Fujimaru,” I echo, “Well, you already know my name, but seein’ as I got several to pick from, Billy’s good. –Oh, uhm—you got a name you prefer me to call you?”

“Uh.” She gives me a glazed stare like someone looking at an oncoming train. “My…friends in high school called me ‘Gudako’ sometimes.”

I stare right back and forget to take back my hand from our handshake. Damn!! “…Your friends weren’t too nice, huh?” I offer sympathetically.

Her face turns crimson and she gives me a look saying she was praying and expecting that I wouldn’t know what that meant and is crying on the inside that I do, and I feel real bad for her that we spirits get such decent language translation built into us on summon. “No,” she offers in a tiny, beaten voice, staring past me.

It’s real hard not to grin, but I beat the impulse down internally with a shovel and give a sympathetic smile instead. “Well, I really just meant ‘do you prefer ‘Ritsuka’ or ‘Fujimaru’,’” She turns a deeper shade and I see her wish for death a little. “But if it’s any consolation, I would definitely not describe you as boring.”

The kid finally looks me in the eye again, a bit like a kicked dog, but she smiles back after a second and seems to bounce back with it. We both remember we’re still holding hands then and let go.

“Well, thank you,” she says like she means that, “I guess I’m not this week anyway.”

“Hardly,” I agree with a smile.

She returns it and takes the tray and goes back into the kitchenette I gotta assume is back there somewhere, and I get another second to think alone.

I’m doin’ better—a lot, I think. So far I think I’ve been up something close to an hour. All this is very strange to me, and it’s not been a great couple of months, but I’m feelin’ less and less dead by the minute, and the answer to ‘does pain medication work on Heroic Spirits’ seems to be a solid ‘yes’—which—considerin alcohol still does and I knew that, in retrospect shouldn’t be such a surprise to me. A glad one though, for sure. Still.

What now? That’s the real question.

Kid says she just wants to help, and at this point I mostly believe that. There’s usually a catch somewhere down the line, but maybe not. I do think at the least she thinks she means it right now. …And…and. I wish that was all I had to worry about. But, the less pain I feel, the clearer I’m starting to think, and either way, she’s right; I can’t just go back to the throne, or I’ll get resummoned. I’m stuck here like this, tied to her right now. But I can’t stay here indefinitely, and neither can she—actually, come to think of it, if they got any kind of security at that workshop, she might be in danger now, for breaking me out. Mages are…known for their ruthlessness. There could be people already on the way to deal with her. Okay. Better find that out, and fast.

Then, third and last on the list of things for me to figure out and deal with is those mages themselves. And that’s the big one. I’m not the only one of us that’s gonna happen to, if it ain’t already happened to more of us, and I can’t leave the place like that. If they have more spirits already, I need to break them out. And either way, I need to destroy that research and probably the people in charge, so they don’t just rebuild, or they absolutely will. And fast. Not sure this new master is just gonna let me go on a wild murder tear either, though, no matter my motives. Which is a problem…

She’s back then, though, so I’m out of time to focus.

“More okayu, plus some chocolate, if you’re feeling good enough,” she offers hopefully, setting her tray back down, “and I brought you some tea too.”

See that’s the problem, I think mournfully at the sight, I can’t do nothin’, but I can’t just betray her after this either, even if I got a good reason! No one’s ever been this good to me—I can’t just go lie to her and then pull a bunch of bloodshed on her dime—even if she don’t sign off on it, she’ll find out, and she’ll feel responsible, and she’s a kid, I’ll have done that to her! I don’t wanna give some kid who saved me a bunch of guilt trauma! After all this? …Hell. I… But I can’t do nothin’ –I can’t. I got friends in the Throne, and even if I didn’t, I ain’t about to allow that to keep on goin’. We don’t deserve that; it ain’t right. But if I tell her what I got in mind, she might use a command spell and bind me, so. …But still. I can’t… I can’t…do either, but. …Maybe I could convince her to absolve the contract, and get it done after that and before I vanish, just, once I got more strength? I got my Independent Action that could keep me goin’ for a little—even Gunner, I got a lot of my Archer traits, so, once I’m healed, it might be enough to get- …No. Ain’t enough. She’d still see what happened, and know the only reason I got it done was her. Same problem as before. Shit. Shit, this sucks… I’ll be doing somethin terrible no matter what, then…

And I know myself. And that the thing I’m eventually gonna do is not leave that place standin’ with people like me trapped dyin’ inside it. As much regret and guilt as that’s gonna buy me too…

“What?”

I glance up, and she’s got her head cocked. I gotta stop bein’ an open book here. Let me think…

“About Ur-shanabi,” I start hesitantly, “Master, did—”

Her expression changes drastically to distress and she immediately cuts me off. “—Oh, please don’t call me that.”

I forgot I even said it, so it takes me a second to get what she means. “’Master’?”

“Please?” she says again, “I know you’re supposed to, and I’m supposed to call you my servant, but I really hate that.”

Everything else I’ve been thinkin’ about just kinda shuts off and I stare at her, blink. … Y…yeah, me too. Always…

“You’re all heroes, or famous artists, or explorers, or fighters, and we’re just mages. –I mean, even if it was different, I’m pretty sure I’d still hate it,” she continues with a sigh, somewhere deep in thought in her own head, but she comes back and meets my gaze, “But please don’t. I don’t want you to have to think of me that way either. I guess I don’t know how this all usually works in a lot of detail, and I know you’re stuck bound to me right now, but I don’t want you to worry I’m gonna try to make you obey me. I won’t! That’s not why I helped you!” She looks so intense. Leaned forward, one palm on the bed, look on her face that makes me believe she means it. “I want you to know I’m never gonna do that; I mean it. I won’t ever use a command spell on you to make you do something you don’t want to do, I promise.”

Her eyes are amber and bright like coals and full of intent. I find it impossible to look away.

“Not ever. I don’t want to try to use you or control you; I. …I’m…really just trying to help…” She finishes, pulling back once she’s made her statement and looking just a little embarrassed only now it’s done.

“…Well, good,” I finally find my voice, “Because I’ve never been much for the Master-Servant thing anyway. Can’t ever seem to stick to it, and it tends to cause problems down the road.”

She smiles back, happy with my answer and that I’ve accepted her proposal.

Some kind of a mage... This is…almost too much to really even understand right now, but I think she…meant it. She thinks she did. I’m beginin to think calling her a mage at all was plain off. She’s somethin’ else. I always think the kid’s thrown me for about as many loops as she can, and then I get knocked down again, and it’s been less than a day. Don’t bode well and really does for me at the same time.

“’Boss’ then?” I suggest, but I can instantly sense her dislike.

“’Partner?’” she counters hopefully.

That does have a much better ring to it, I gotta say. “Partner,” I concede with a wink, “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Never had a master that wanted me to un-know my place before.

“Well, you could also call me ‘Ritsuka’,” she says hopefully and then immediately becomes embarrassed. “Uhm,” she hurries, glancing away when I grin at her, “A-And you’re sure you prefer ‘Billy’? Not Henry?”

Lord it’s been a while since anyone called me that. Sends me a long, long way back. And not really in a good way. I appreciate the thought though.

“No,” I reply.

She seems surprised a little, but I can tell she’s not gonna press me, so, there’s really no reason to say this, but for some reason I want to tell her.

“That’s my middle name, actually,” I say.

“Huh?” says the girl.

“Henry,” I clarify, “Middle name. It’s William Henry McCarty, actually.”

Her brow furrows. “…But I thought…?”

“Step-dad had the same name, and it was too many for one household, so mine got shortened,” I gloss over, “Took it back when I picked my own name on the lamb.”

“So. …You outlaw-named yourself … ‘Your Name The Hot One’?”

It’s my turn to suffer nickname shame, though I’m not too ashamed of that, because it’s pretty funny. Does suckerpunch me a little to get called on it more than 100 years later.

“…I-I don’t know…” I answer automatically before thinking of what to say, “Maybe. …yeah.”

She almost chokes on a laugh. I grin.

“I mean, if you got the opportunity—wouldn’t you? I’m just sayin,” I say casually, past the slight amount of embarrassment I felt and pretty proud of myself again. It was a slick name.

“It’s got flair,” she says approvingly.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“So, what were you gonna ask—before I interrupted you?” she asks, picking up the cup of tea and offering it to me. I take it, feeling immense guilt as our hands touch for a second and I’m stuck thinkin about all the things she’s done for me for no reason other than bein’ kind, and the fact I’m definitely going to turn on that and her, and how awful that is.

I…wonder if it would make things some kind of right if I came back and let her kill me after? No. No, that’d make it worse. Mage or not, I don’t think this kid’s ever hurt anyone. I don’t know what I can do to soften taking this kind of kindness and drawing blood with it, but…

“Ur-shanabi,” I say quietly, working hard to pass off my internal distress as distraction as I hold the little clay cup and feel the warmth. It smells good. I know I have to drink it, and I’ll feel physically better, but everything nice I accept is piling on guilt.

…I wish. I wish I had a choice here, but I can’t let them keep this goin’. I wish I knew a way to make that right, or at least explain to you I’m sorry. And everything she says and does just makes this worse! I don’t want to hurt her. I really don’t. In any other situation, I wouldn’t, but I have to, and I hate it. I don’t want to betray her. I don’t want to make her regret showing me kindness. I don’t want her to feel the way it feels to not do something cold but safe, and then get shot for it.

Hot water slips over the top of my hand and I jerk back and just spill more of the tea, sucking in a sharp breath at the unexpected pain.

“Whoa! –Are you okay?” she asks worriedly, passing me a napkin and leaning over to catch onto my hand and help steady the cup and what’s left inside it, “What happened? Are you feeling worse again?”

Hell! My hands are shaking and I can’t quite get them to stop. Calm down. You don’t gotta do anything right now. You can feel bad later. Just think a second.

“Nah—s-sorry,” I manage, trying to smile at her and not quite sure how well I do, “I uh—I guess I’m just still a little weaker than I thought. I’m fine now.”

“Here,” she says, brow all scrunched up in concern, taking back the tea and passing me the ice pack to set on my hand.

I hate this. I’m terrible. It ain’t fair—it ain’t wrong for me to go back, I gotta, but. I hate this. I hate it.

I take the pack and try to look grateful. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about your hand,” she says.

I wave it off. “It’s already done hurting.”

“…” She waits a second, leaned a little forward expectantly, and I forget what for until she prompts me again. “What? About Ur-shanabi?”

“Oh,” I say. Right. “I was gonna ask how much you know about their operation. –How you even ended up in the right place at all.”

“Oh,” she says, and she loses some color.

Huh?

“Uhm,” she glances away, then back, and seems more herself, but I’m not sure I buy it this time. I don’t think she’s lyin’, per-se, but there’s something else she’s not saying. “Well. I’m from a mage family, but, not a ‘mage’ family—we know about magic, I did—growing up. But, I didn’t ever get any formal training, or anything. So I guess it was more like mage-adjacent in a lot of ways. There was this test I heard about from a friend—a research project on magical circuits, and I was curious.” She glances down at her legs again, but this time she looks far away and almost happy, like she’s revisiting a better moment in her head. “I’d always been curious about myself and magic, and I was excited, because if you participated in the research project, you got to know stuff they found out about your magical circuits—stuff you might be good at.” She glances up at me and gives me an embarrassed smile. “It sounded really cool. I had wanted to know for so long, and I thought—I still think—it would be really great to learn how to do more magic. So, I went.”

The girl—nope—Ritsuka, thinks for a second, then holds out her hand and looks at it. “Apparently I’ve got really unusual circuits.”

“Unusual?” I echo, kind of intrigued. I know jack-all about magic, but I am curious.

She glances over and nods. “Yeah. I thought I did really badly in the study, because I didn’t know any real spells at all, and everyone else did. They pulled me aside after and I thought they were just going to kick me out before we even got results, but, apparently my circuits were so unusual they wanted to do a case study. I’ve got ‘Almost no practical control or ability to utilize them, but possess a nearly inhuman amount of mana.’”

“Really?” I ask. I can’t feel that at all. I’m getting enough to keep me sustained, sure, but that’s it.

“I know, right?” she agrees, nodding and leaning forward, “That’s what I said! But apparently I do. They asked me if I’d come in to do more studies, and I said yes, because I was also curious. And that was Ur-shanabi. I’ve been going there for a while now,” she adds, then stops, gives me a guilty look, then looks away and keeps going in an almost dejected tone. “Uh. But I worked, or, was allowed in, I guess, a totally different part of the building. You were up on the 12th floor. I was on the 4th, R&D testing labs.”

“Oh,” I say, very confused by this reaction from her, and a little concerned by it too if I’m honest, “What brought you up to the 12th?”

“The mage I met with the most was named Nakata. He worked in a lot of projects more important than mine too. I think that was maybe the only time I was ever on the 12th floor,” she answers, “That day, I showed up and waited for a couple hours, and he never showed up in R&D. There were other people who wanted to use the room we usually used for another test, so I asked if I should go home, and the secretary said yes, but I bumped into Dr. Nakata in the elevator on my way out. He said he’d been swamped by a last-minute schedule change, and still wanted to do our test, but he’d be maybe another hour, and that I should just wait for him by his office. Which, is on the 12th floor. I was just standing there, and this big group of mages went into a large room at the end of the hall, so I was curious and watched them, and.” She shrugs.

Yeah, I can fill in the rest.

“I guess you don’t know a lot about what they were doing with me, then,” I say, a little disappointed. Any new information would have been useful. I don’t know that I expected another answer, though.

“…Actually, yes,” says Ritsuka, looking uncomfortable. I glance at her in surprise and she looks flustered and guilty and glances away again. “Uhm. After I saw you, I asked Dr. Nakata what was going on up here, and who you were.”

You coulda been killed, I think in a frozen kind of horror. What were you thinking?

“He told me,” she says simply, “You were a heroic spirit, and they were doing tests on things you could do using them. He even told me what the test was.”

I don’t know what to think or how to feel about that, so I just listen. I wonder why on earth he’d tell her?

She glances up and holds my gaze this time, an undercurrent of almost…incensed feeling somewhere deep in her eyes. “He said they had found a way to keep a summoned spirit away from the throne for a long time at low mana cost, and instead use the connection to their Saint Graph and essence as a fixed unit outside of time now, to generate a potentially limitless source of energy. To…make a heroic spirit into a battery.” I can tell while the rest of it was her echoing, the last statement is her own, and she’s bitter. “I asked how, and he told me,” she continues, “He said you had to trap one right between life and death, so they would give as little presence as possible to anything looking, and wouldn’t find a way to escape or retaliate on their own, but couldn’t actually vanish either. ‘An art and a science, to find the perfect thread to stop at, and keep them in place on the edge of death.’ Stuck. In pain, and too weak to fight back, but here.”

She lets out a long sigh and glances at me and says, “I said that sounded awful, and what about the spirits, and he told me a lot of stuff about heroic spirits being familiars that are meant to serve mankind in whatever way they’re summoned for, no matter how painful, and aren’t people anymore and that’s their intended use.”

Ow. I mean, it’s not new; I hear this from mages all the time, but it’s never fun to hear one say it right to your face. Fuckin mages…

“But, I think he could tell I didn’t like it, even though I was a little scared by then and trying not to seem as much like it,” she continues, glancing down at her hands, “And he told me ‘Don’t trouble yourself. You’re new to this, but it’s a normal part of being a mage. If it helps you rest easier, the one we summoned was Billy the Kid, an outlaw and a murderer from the old American west,’ a-and. That…” her voice gets quieter, like suddenly she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said any of this, “…I could think of it as divine punishment, in a way. And not have to feel bad.”

…

That. It really shouldn’t bother me to hear. People always act like that to me. Even when I was alive. I think about being sent to hang for a murder I didn’t commit for a moment. I had so many murders on my record by the end of it, but I’ve never pulled a trigger that wasn’t in self-defense or a last resort. But it’s never mattered. You are what people make of you, in the public eye, and in history I guess, no matter what the truth is. And eventually that tends to push you to an ending written about the person you’re described as. I never thought of any of the fights I was in as murder. I guess it’s been a long time since I could even pretend that mattered to anyone but me, though.

…I still hate it.

It hurts. Not so much people sayin’ that—don’t care too much what people think; I know who I am. But, the fact that it just straight up don’t matter what’s true, at all. Even a little… I could have lived a completely different life and not been remembered as any worse at all.

“He thought I’d agree with that.” Her voice is angry. I glance back up, train of thought broken, and Ritsuka looks as mad as she sounded, somewhere else in her head too. It’s a quiet, deep anger. “I didn’t.”

There’s something about how she looks, like she’s an embodiment of what she’s saying, and again it becomes hard to look away if I’d wanted.

“He was wrong. I guess there are some people who deserve to die,” she continues, “I’ve thought about that. About if I think if…if someone killed my family or something, I’d want them to have to die too for it. If I think that’s fair, and right. But. …Even if some people probably deserve to die, nobody deserves to be just kept in pain forever. Even the worst people. I don’t know how anyone could think after more than a day anybody at all could possibly know it’s right to go on hurting someone. Not even the worst person.” She looks distressed by that for a moment, then glances back at me and smiles a little. “I decided that, and that I was going to try to do something, and then I went home and looked you up, and you didn’t even sound that bad.” Her eyes go big immediately and she looks mortified. “—Wait—That sounded bad! I’m sorry! I-I said that wrong. I—I meant—I didn’t—I just mean—he’d said—uh—a-and you didn’t sound like—it seemed like you weren’t so—like stuff went wrong for you more than you were a bad person actually, a-and you didn’t seem like you were really a murderer—"

The poor kid is sweating buckets now. I think she thinks she’ll have offended me sayin’ that, but it’s very much the opposite.

“—I should stop talking. I’m sorry. I-I just—uhm. You were different sounding than I thought before I looked you up is the only thing I was trying to say—I’m so sorry I don’t know why I said any of it at all!” She gives up and hunches over apologetically in shame.

“…I ain’t mad,” I try to assure her after a second.

Ritsuka glances up between her bangs and gives me a sorrowful, worried look.

“…I…think I actually appreciate that,” I continue after a second, figuring it out as I go and then giving her a smile, “I ain’t sure what you read about me, or how true it was, but I’ll take what goodwill I can get.” She raises her head a little more, but still looks worried, so I keep going. “Ain’t offended me—I get it. You were already thinkin of doin’ something dangerous. Gotta know what you’re in for best you can, with a heroic spirit. Only smart to try’n be prepared.”

Looking a little better, she cautiously un-hunches. “Yeah. …I really didn’t mean to say it how I did, though. I don’t think you’re bad! I mean, I know I don’t know you, but I-”

I hold up a hand. I feel like after all this, I really oughta let her off the hook.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a sure smile, “You don’t gotta explain yourself, or tell me what you thought, or what you think now. I don’t have to know. I’m aware you’re takin’ a risk on me, especially with my kind of record, and I appreciate it. Probably ain’t easy for you.”

Shit, haven’t thought about that before, but it’s true. Kid might have command seals, but I’m quick, and she’s not experienced. Pretty much any heroic spirit she summoned that wanted to could kill her easy. She didn’t think to use one immediately to order me to not. I’ve been so strung out and nervous of her, I haven’t thought for a second about the fact she’s probably scared of me.

“…Uhm. In light of that, Ma- Partner,” I correct, “I’d like to set a few things straight for you, if you don’t mind?”

She seems to recover a little, straightens up and gives me a very serious nod.

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be. Whatever you heard, truth is I never killed anybody except when it was them or me, or I was defendin’ someone else. I never was a fan of it, either. Only crimes I ever set out to commit were thefts, mostly outa need,” I say, “Where I grew up, once you had a reputation, that was all you had left. I stole food when I was on my own at sixteen, and there weren’t no turning back after that. ‘Bout that simple.”

The gal’s listening attentively, head cocked. Takin this serious. And I’m still thinkin over how this has probably been for her. Angering a group of powerful mages is scary enough. Now she’s contracted to an outlaw spirit, and she’s apparently a mage who’s got no real practice usin spells. She’s basically just a civilian. She’s all alone here too, and somethin like sixteen or seventeen, and she’s got no real idea what I’m gonna be like, or want, or do. I’m not in great shape, but I’m still a heroic spirit, and a lot more powerful than her, and I’ve killed people. That’s a pretty good reason to be scared. I don’t want her to be, though. At all.

“I know all you got’s my word on this,” I say, working hard to convey my sincerity, “But it is the truth. More importantly, you saved my life, and I owe you. I really am grateful. I got no plans to try and hurt you; I promise—you got nothing to worry about.”

FUCK. What I’ve just said hits me like a ton of bricks. Fuck, I should’ve phrased that differently!—no no no—damn it damn it; I should have thought about it first! Hell! I am gonna hurt her! Probably. Not physically, which is what I was thinkin’ about when I said that, and meant, but it’s not technically what I said, shit shit shit, I just promised her something I’m gonna break—oh great, and I must have some amount of that showin’ on my face because she actually does look nervous now. I lied and I actually made her more afraid of me. Great job! Damn it damn it damn it.

“I’m really not the kind of person to do that,” I add quickly, trying hard to save it. This is bad this is bad. “I wouldn’t have a reason to anyway, but you definitely don’t gotta worry about me—” Everything I am thinking to say is wrong. All of it. ‘turning on you’ – a lie. ‘repaying that by making you sorry’ – a bigger lie. Shit. And I feel like it now too, more than before. I’m the worst—I’m terrible. I know I don’t have an alternative, and I have to go back, but this is awful, and I feel very appropriate amounts of guilt about it. I deserve this. “attacking you or something,” I go with, even though it sounds weird in my ears, because I don’t want to outright lie again, and even this much is making me feel miserable. “after you’ve been good to me.”

I hate this. I hate myself. Maybe. …Maybe there’s another way, maybe I can… Can…

She smiles for a moment, happy I said that I think, then slowly looks worried. “You look worried.”

Oh. I guess I’m the one who looks worried.

I…

I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to work this out better than it’s gonna be. I just. …I just…

…Fuck it.

“I am,” I say honestly, turning my head to look at her. She’s so sincere, and so worried. She’s been so good to me. I just. … I just… “I’m worried about Ur-shanabi,” I say, so sure I’m going to regret this in seconds, but doing it anyway because of some deep inherent flaw in who I am, “I’m okay right now, but I figure with me gone, they’ll just take another one of us and do the same thing. If they haven’t already.”

I watch slow horror creep over her face as that clicks. “…I. Would…? Oh. They will. And it’ll be my fault.” she says, glazed-over expression on her face.

What? “No!” I say immediately, “That it’s someone else and not me? It ain’t your fault. It’s theirs—they’re the only ones doin’ it, aren’t they?”

She comes back to herself a little and looks at me, but her face is still drained of color.

“It won’t be your fault,” I say again, “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. …They will keep doin’ it, though. Probably to more and more of us, if they can. Probably they’ll sell the idea to other mages too.” I hesitate, give myself one last solid chance to reconsider this, and don’t. Just pray for luck. I’ve gotten a lot of it the last 24 hours—maybe I have a pinch left. “…Unless I find a way to go back and stop them pretty fast. It’s that, or this is gonna keep happening to us. And it’s only gonna get worse. …I got friends, in the throne. …I don’t want that to happen to any of them. Even for the ones I don’t know, even the ones I don’t like, it’s like you said: nobody deserves that. So. I think. …I gotta go back.”

Her eyes are huge and I can see her running what this means, trying to process it all. I’m praying she’ll agree with me, but it’s such a long shot to get from an idealistic teen.

“Please!” I try, going for the best pitch I can before she decides to force me not to, “I-I know you’ve met those people, and I’m askin’ a lot, but at least think about it. You helped me because you knew what they were doing was wrong—I know it too, and I’m the only one in a position to shut it down. I can’t do nothing, and this is the only way to end it. You don’t know what it’s like. We-“ I’m getting to desperate, and I know it, but I hold up a hand and plow on because so long as I keep talking, she isn’t, and I don’t know what else to try. “—Our bodies are pretty close to what they were before; we feel pain the same, we can just survive more of it. I-I’m lucky, I got shot—I’ve known spirits who were bled to death, or hung, or burned, or decapitated—you can’t imagine what it would be like to be stuck chained down forever with your head just not quite severed all the way enough to kill you. I know it’s not your fight, and it’s not fair for me to ask this, but I have to try and stop them. And I—can’t. Without an anchor. Please...”

Maybe this won’t be a terrible idea. Maybe it won’t backfire on me immediately. Maybe she’ll let me go. Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe I won’t have to—

For a moment, she stares at me, motionless. Then her eyes well up.

Damn it. Damn it; I knew! I knew she’d feel like she had to stop me, and I showed her my hand because I felt bad, and now promise or no, she—

“I’m so sorry…” she whispers, and I’m fully expecting the threat of a command spell to follow that, but instead she tucks her knees up to her chest and folds over into a little ball and starts crying again.

I don’t…rightly know what to do about that, so for a second I just stare at her like an idiot.

“I know it was bad,” I hear muffled and choked up from the little bundle she’s made herself into, “I. I don’t—don’t know how awful it was, I know, but I know it was—I know it was so bad. And it’s my fault it was you.”

What?

“You have to go back?” she asks pleadingly, looking up at me for a second from over her knees, like she’s asking me if I gotta go die in a war, “What if they catch you and put you back where you were? O-or kill you and just summon you into a trap again? I’ll never get back in if—”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘your fault’?” I ask, still stuck on that and very lost again. So much so she’s halfway through her next paragraph before I even clock that me potentially getting trapped again is the only thing she has immediately objected to.

Ritsuka looks at me with her big, tearful eyes, then looks defeatedly at her knees. “…I. One day, several months ago, I showed up for a research day and Doctor Nakata had these boxes on the table, and a bunch of papers.” The kid looks and sounds completely miserable, and exhausted. “I didn’t know what any of it was, so I asked him. He said it was for another project, and to just wait a few minutes while he packed it up. …And then he changed his mind, and said actually, would I come over? He told me they were deciding between a few candidates for a project, and at this point it didn’t really matter which one they started with, and would I like to pick one. I asked what the project was, and he said it was a secret. But, it looked so important, and cool, and I wanted to be involved, so I said yes please, and I went up and picked. I didn’t know what they were.”

Ritsuka grimaces and looks sadder, rests her chin on her knees and exhales slowly. “No, I think I did. I just didn’t know what they were for. I could sense they were all magical, and they were all odd, and specific. An old little clay vase. A shuriken. An earring. A coin. A letter. And a photograph.”

I stare. She makes herself look up at me, and I can see how sorry she feels. “I picked the photograph.”

Ah.

“He even told me later,” she adds quietly, all the spunk gone, “That I picked you. When I asked, after seeing—”

“Good.”

She looks up quickly, surprised.

“I appreciate you feelin’ bad for me,” I continue sympathetically, “But it ain’t your fault, what happened to me. You didn’t know what was goin’ on, and if it hadn’t been me, it’d have just been someone else. Luck of the draw; just how life happens. On top of that, they’d have gone after every one of us on that list eventually, and if I hadn’t been here and now with you, I might not have ever gotten out.” It’s true, and I give her a smile. “Also, this whole thing is a pretty big relief.”

“A relief?” she echoes, confused.

I nod. “You get summoned with a catalyst, ain’t much you can do but show up, like it or not, but I wanted to answer the call when I got it. Up till now I thought my sixth sense had plain stopped workin’ or something. I guess it was actually just because I thought I was answerin’ your call.”

She looks confused for a moment, then smiles slowly. “…Really?”

I give a little head tilt. “Best I can guess.” I honestly don’t know if a summon can work that way at all, but I’d like to think so, and why not? Makes us both feel better.

I meet her gaze and try and get her to smile back, and this time it works.

“I really am sorry,” she says, “even if you’re not mad.”

“Well thank you,” I say, accepting the apology, “But consider it behind us.”

Something she said earlier that I had running in the back of my head comes through hard, and I feel the bottom of my stomach drop out.

“…You said a coin?” I ask, really, really, really hoping my gut feeling is wrong for once.

She nods, catching my expression and getting sympathetically worried along with me.

“…Was it kinda silver, with a face on one side, and a short cross and some words on the back?” I ask.

“Uh. I only saw one side, but it did have a face,” she says nervously.

“Was there a scratch across it? Deep? Diagonal on the face?”

“Yeah,” she says, surprised, “How did you know? What is it?”

Oh no. Oh shit that’s bad. Okay. Okay, this is gonna be okay. I can figure this out. He might not even be here yet, and I can snag the coin and he’ll be fine. All this means for sure is that I have to figure this out, more than before now.

“A friend,” I answer when I remember I need to, “—a catalyst to summon one, I mean.”

“Oh,” she says in a voice like I feel.

For a moment, we look at each other in silence. I got no idea what she’s thinking, but my mind’s far away and frantic, trying to piece together some kind of plan.

“…What do we do?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“You said you gotta go back in,” says Ritsuka as I refocus on her, and I can see she’s come to some kind of decision, “And need me to help, and now you know they’re gonna hurt your friend unless we can stop them. I’ll help you, but I don’t know how. How do we go back and stop them?”

I gape.

“…You…want to help me?”

She gives a nod, looking confused that I’d ask her.

“You-? I mean—it might. …I might have to…shoot someone,” I say. Wow. Great job Billy you sure did sugar coat that and make it sound real fine. Nicely done.

Her eyes widen, and she glances away, hesitates. Then says slowly, “…But if we don’t, they’ll keep torturing heroic spirits for energy.” Working through it herself.

“That’s about it,” I agree sympathetically. It…can’t be easy for her. She’s a civilian, a kid. And she seems like a bleedin’ heart who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She’s already been a lot more understanding towards my perspective than I expected.

“…So it’ll be bad either way,” she says finally, looking back and meeting my gaze.

I’m kind of taken aback that she’s put it into almost the same words I did to myself, but I nod.

“…That sucks,” she says to herself sadly.

“Yeah,” I agree quietly, looking at my own knees and thinking it over.

“…Is there a way to do it without killing anyone?” she asks after a second, hopeful.

Probably not. Even if I destroyed the whole building, there’s the people in charge who know how to do it, and can and will rebuild. I think she can see that on my face, because her expression falls.

“I…don’t know for sure,” I answer, “But. I think…probably not. … They’d rebuild. –Not all of them—not all of them would know how, but, at least a few will.”

She stares off at nothing, thinking.

I feel worse, somehow. Thought I was doing the nicer thing, basically giving her a chance to stop me, and risking my success. But. Now I think maybe I’ve accidentally been more heartless.

She shouldn’t have to carry a choice like this. Life ain’t fair, and I know that, but I’m finding I like being on the giving end of that even less than the receiving.

“…How old are you?”

The mage turns and looks at me, surprised, and flushes a little. “…I. S-seventeen?”

“Yeah?” I ask.

She nods.

Seventeen. She’s about the age I was when my life started really fallin apart. I hate being a part of that for someone else. I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with it,” I offer quietly, “You could dissolve our contract. Fifty-fifty chance I get the job done before I vanish, fifty—”

“—No!” she cuts in adamantly before I’m even halfway through my pitch, “No way! You’d get trapped there again! That’d be even worse! I made a deal with you to protect you if you trusted me! I’m not just gonna abandon you now.”

I blink. Tilt my head, taken aback by her fervor.

Did you? Is that what the contract was to her? I try to recall her words. ‘My soul becomes your will; your spirit becomes my destiny.’ Right, she said that wrong. But what I want to remember is before that. I try hard. “Please—If you die, they’ll summon you back! I-I can ground you! I can keep you here!” I can’t see much in the image in my head, but I can hear it, I can feel it—the pain and her hand on mine.

…I guess she did.

I don’t know how to respond to that. Look down at my own hand, playing it again in my head.

The kid is thinking still, her brow furrowed with worry. Taps the edge of the little bedside table agitatedly with a finger. “…So. Either we find a way to destroy their research, and get any other spirits they have out, and…maybe fight some of the people in charge,” she says finally, “…or they keep on doing this to you all, forever. There’s no other way things can go? You’re sure?”

I’ve already thought about it, but she’s so sincere and sad I think again, and then nod.

She sees that and glances at her hands and then back at me. “Then. …I guess we have to go back and stop them. You’re right.”

I stare at her. A-are you serious? Even as such a bleeding heart, you really—?

“But nobody gets hurt that doesn’t have to, okay?” she adds fervently, “And. I-I want to try to talk to the people in charge first! I know they won’t change their minds and it’s probably a waste, but.”

“—We can try,” I agree readily, overcome with relief, “Are you sure, though? You don’t have to stay contracted to me, and you sure as hell don’t have to come. You—you’ve already taken a lot of risks for me, big ones, and I know I’m basically returnin that favor by involving you in bloodshed. I don’t want to do that.”

It’s her turn to look surprised, and she blinks and tilts her head right back at me, and for some reason it makes me feel a whole lot better and a whole lot worse at the same time. But also more like I understand her.

“You’re not doing anything to me,” she says simply, “They’re the ones doing something that has to be stopped. It’s not your fault you’re the one who knows about it.”

I…guess that’s true. Feel like I’m getting my own words thrown back at me; maybe I am.

“It sucks,” she adds, “And I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt anybody, or get anyone else hurt. But. Mom and Dad always said it’s just as bad to stand by and let somebody be hurt as it is to hurt them yourself, if you could have done something about it. So. I want to help you, and I will.”

“You’re sure?” I ask again, “It’s…it’s a whole lot, and it ain’t gonna be easy, or safe, and you’re—” If I say ‘a kid’ I think she’s gonna get offended because I would have when I was seventeen. “Young. It shouldn’t be on you to fix.”

“Well, you’re young too,” she says.

Ow. I’m twenty-one. I know I’m short, but at least I’m an adult.

“And you’re mostly dead, so let’s just agree it’s unfair for both of us, but we’re partners, and someone has to do it, and we’re here, so that’s us,” she says very diplomatically.

I give up and sigh, then offer her a hand. “If you’re sure, Partner.”

She takes my hand and shakes it.

“So, what can I do?” she asks as she lets go.

“Well, anything you know about the building’s layout’ll help, and what defenses they might have. Mostly, I just need to get back to fighting shape,” I answer.

She nods. “Food, then?”

I give in again and smile. “Thanks.”

#fate grand order AU #fate series #fate fic #writing #billy the kid #ritsuka fujimaru #fate go #The Kid #The Kid (fic)#I wish I had as much time as my heart wants for writing :'-]#'Gudako' basically means 'boring girl'. and Billy called himself William Bonney which is Irish for 'William Attractive' more or less so they #deserve to both be roasted but in the most loving way possible also Ritsuka my dear I'm so sorry your friends suck

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tfw-no-tennis · 3 years

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animorphs!!!

ok I read animorphs when I was 10 or 11 I think? and I only read it once, along w/the spinoffs and stuff, and I've always meant to revisit it...SO HERE I AM....

and oh MAN I forgot how good this series is. like I knew it was good but some things from your childhood don't hold up yknow? especially books aimed at younger audiences

but oh boy does animorphs hold up. they're easy to read and perfectly balance the line between dark/adult topics and more kid-friendly lessons. excellent

so yeah I'm loving it so far. I forgot how fast some stuff happens lmao, like I forgot that tobias gets trapped as a bird in the FIRST BOOK

also I just adore how realistically disorganized/confused the animorphs are. like, they got the elevator pitch version of the conflict from elfangor before my mans got eaten, and also they're middle schoolers. of course they’re always just like ‘wtf do we even do’

so like...their plans mostly don't work. and even when planning they run into tons of logistical issues w/morphing, traveling, communicating etc.

and I love how they clearly need to maintain their normal lives as well in order not to raise any suspicion

and I like the little details like them not spending all their time together at school because they didn’t before so that would be suspicious

oh man and I love the different family dynamics in the series. you have jake, whose family seems pretty normal until we find out that tom is a controller, and rachel, whose parents are divorced, and who has to deal w/the complications of that. and then cassie, who is an only child (I like that we have a mix, with rachel and jake having siblings), and of course marco...

iirc marco was one of my favs (if not my fav, but its hard to choose) back in the day, and I forgot how reluctant he was to participate in the animorphs thing...and the fact that he was about to quit the team and then runs into visser 1.....

another fucked up little moment I liked - when they morphed dolphin and marco had to morph back to human bc he gets injured and he was like ‘I cant swim, and my mom drowned, I don't want to die like she did’ I was like oooof

also on that topic I adore how little the animorphs know about how anything works. like they once wondered if there's a limit to how many morphs they can acquire and they were basically like ‘idk guess we’ll find out’

and then when marco got injured as a dolphin and they were like ‘morph back I guess and hopefully you'll be okay?’ like damn luckily that worked

basically these books do The Most Excellent Job showing that these are just kids. like they're literally in jr high which is 90s speak for middle school....they're like 13???? at most???

and the narrative reflects that perfectly!! all of them, even rachel who is pretty much the most gung-ho about fighting and stuff, have nightmares and all these terrible experiences bc they don't have basically any guidance

and even with ax, it’s immediately obvious that he’s also just a kid, even though he’s this deadly alien....

also oh mannnn I love so much how we’re introduced to the andalites as this heroic race and how that slowly changes over the course of the story

like, when elfangor introduces himself as ‘prince’ you assume he’s part of the andalite monarchy - but later we find out that ‘prince’ is a military rank, and the andalites are a lot more militaristic than we would assume at the beginning

its so fantastic how it starts off as a fairly black and white conflict of andalites = good guy aliens and yeerks = bad guy aliens

and you even have some background stuff going on w/the taxxons being controllers by choice, and the hork-bajir being enslaved

but as the story goes on, all of those lines get blurred in different ways...

also ooof the poor hork-bajir. I always felt so bad for them. it’s crazy that even in the first book, the animorphs are killing their enemies - at least I inferred that in book 1, but it becomes way more overt later on...the tough situation of them knowing that the hork-bajir are unwilling hosts but that they’re so dangerous that not killing them could be fatal to the good guys

and ngl this time around I have a lot more sympathy for the yeerks, even tho they don't really deserve it (at least in the early parts of the story where I am rn)

like...they're just these blind helpless slug creatures, but they're also fully sentient and intelligent? like, that's so fucked up. imagine yourself as you are now, but you're just a sensory deprived slug swimming in a pool. that's pretty fucked. and then the fact that the yeerks are biologically made to be parasites...its kinda no wonder that they ended up the way they are (and it also makes stuff like the yeerk peace movement really compelling)

also wow I kinda forgot about all the body horror w/the morphing. like ik that's one of the things that animorphs is known for but like. I forgot how much it happens and how creative the horrifying descriptions are. I love it

and omfg so when I first read this series the ellimist stuff confused me a lot bc I didn't read the books That closely (I mostly wanted to see what would happen next) but I loooove time travel bullshit so I’m really enjoying it so far

even tho tbh I think even if I had paid more attention as a 10 yr old I still would've been confused bc the ellimist stuff is kinda just inherently confusing lmao

ok and I just love the characters,,,I love that the books switch perspectives, and KAA did such a masterful job of portraying differing and realistic reactions to their situation....like, all the animorphs react so differently to their circumstances, but their reactions are all so grounded in realism and also their personalities

like man I love rachel. she was one of my favs as a kid too bc I always loved female characters and she was just so cool. and she still is, and so excellently written too

liiiike the fact that even though she’s so tough and brave, she’s still a kid and has plenty of moments when she’s scared or uncertain...

and I just really like the fact that she out of all of them is the one who’s tough and loves to fight...and the fact that she also unapologetically loves shopping and stuff like that...its about the multifaced characters

just like how marco is the ‘funny guy’ but they make it very clear from the beginning that this is his way of coping w/shit like his family falling apart, and then alien BS

and also marco is really smart? I kinda forgot abt that (sorry marco) but I like that bc that's uncommon to see with ‘funny’ characters

oh mannnn and ax. I love ax. I forgot a whole bunch about the early stuff w/him and how conflicted he was w/keeping secrets from the other animorphs

KAA did such a fantastic job w/ax - he really comes across as the perfect mix of ‘fish out of water alien’ and ‘young teen/tween’ and ‘alien from a strict militaristic society who is in training to become a soldier like his famous older brother’

n that was so sad n fucked up when he called the andalite home world and had to tell everyone (including his parents) that elfangor died, and then the elders or w/e forced ax to take blame for elfangor breaking their laws in order to preserve elfangor’s postmortem reputation, even at the cost of ax’s career/life :(

and man I loved the part where ax is like ‘well, we didn't help the hork-bajir even tho we could have and now they're all enslaved. I'm not letting that happen to the humans’ and the council or w/e is like ‘well you should let it happen, don't interfere’ and ax basically realizes oh shit sometimes adults are wrong

basically I love the conflict there, where the andalites are the ones who gave the yeerks the technology that led to them spreading across the galaxy like a disease, and now fight to stop them due to their guilt, but also refuse to directly help the less advanced species who are being invaded by the yeerks for fear of making a similar mistake like w/the yeerks....

ooooof and the part where ax is like ‘guess I have to go fight visser 3 and die’ :( he’s just a babyyyy

and augh when alloran asks them to kill him....geeeez there’s so much fucked up stuff already and I'm not even in the double digits yet

oh my god and the brutally awful fact that any freed controller will just get tracked down by the yeerks and murdered so the secret invasion stays secret...and the animorphs think that by destroying the kandrona they've freed a bunch of controllers but really they just signed their death warrants - what a catch 22

oh and I love how even early on the yeerks aren't a completely unified force - we have the obvious rivalry w/visser 1 and visser 3, with visser 1 even arranging the animorphs release from visser 3′s prison bc of this, and that yeerk who told ax where to find visser 3 because he was pissed that his yeerk gf got killed by visser 3 - even though the reason she was killed was due to kandrona rationing, which was caused by the animorphs...i love the layers

ok what else. oh yeah I love tobias sm, he was one of my favs as a kid too, his whole story is so deeply tragic but also interesting and we haven't even gotten into all the stuff w/his parents yet

the part where he’s freaking out as a hawk and he’s gonna fly into the windows even tho he knows it’ll probably kill him...christttt

also tobias and rachel are so romance aughhhh

ok also jake - he was never my favorite when I was younger bc I felt like he had Basic Protag Man Syndrome but now I can appreciate his character a lot more. like, he basically got elected the leader and he’s kinda like ‘guess I have to do this now.’ and that of course ends up fucking him up majorly in the long run bc even tho he’s more serious and responsible, he’s still just a kid too

and I loooove the horror of finding out that tom is a controller, and jake having to contend w/the fact that it’s very likely that he’ll have to fight and/or kill his brother someday

also the book where jake gets infested w/a yeerk was one of my favs and still is. so fucked up and interesting. the fact that that yeerk was previously tom’s made it even more fucked, w/the yeerk taunting jake the whole time

and then the yeerk dying in jakes head...so messed up

omg and cassie too. I love cassie. I didn't appreciate her as much when I was younger bc I was a straightforward kid who liked action, and cassie is all about pacifism when possible and compassion, which I love a lot now that I Get it more.

cassie being such a gentle person but still fighting in this fucked up war bc doing nothing would be worse is super compelling. plus the conflicts with her having to figure out where she and humanity fit in the circle of life and whatnot is great

I loved the contrast of her being very aware of how nature works bc of working w/her parents and all these injured animals, but also being so compassionate that it still bothers her to see death and especially participate in it

like her feeling awful about killing the termite queen even tho its ‘just a bug’ and stuff

basically what makes the series great isn't that it’s got all these fucked up moments and horror elements and is overall quite dark - it’s that all of it comes together to make the point that war is hell, and child soldiers are gonna end up traumatized pretty much no matter what happens

it’s a very strong message, and the story never feels like it’s being dark just for the sake of being dark, but rather never letting the reader forget how awful things are

TL;DR: anirmorphs is to the YA genre what hunter x hunter is to the shounen genre

in animorphs, the heroes of the story are kids who get cool powers and get to fight aliens - in any other YA story they would have a bunch of fun adventures and come out on top most/all the time - things might get darker towards the end, but good would prevail. the evil yeerks would be stopped, and the main couples would get married and have kids and live happily ever after.

however, war isn't like that, especially when the soldiers are kids. so instead we get animorphs, and it’s brutally realistic. they barely ever get to enjoy their powers - on the rare occasion that they get to, something usually goes horribly wrong

compare to hxh - it seems like a regular shounen story about kids participating in a fantastical mostly-adult world and being able to match the adults bc they're Special - but as the story wears on it becomes clear that the kids are just very traumatized. this all leads to gon’s berserker collapse in the chimera ant arc, which is led up to masterfully w/a bunch of adults treating gon as an adult even though he’s a child.

essentially the same thing happens in animorphs - with jake being shoved into the leader role and becoming a military general as a kid, which leads to him committing horrific war crimes because he’s been put in a position no child should ever have to be in

similarly, kurapika has what would be a very straightforward revenge plotline in any other story - but this is hxh, so the bad guys aren't just 2-dimensional evil caricatures, and the road to revenge just leads kurapika to ruin. we root for kurapika to win bc they’re a character we like, but it becomes clearer and clearer as the story goes on that getting revenge is not the path kurapika should be taking

nothing is ever as straightforward as we want it to be, basically. and the same applies to animorphs. so many times they're faced with conflicts that seem to have an obvious answer, only for it to be revealed later that the choices they made led to other unforeseen awful consequences

ok i need to stop rambling this is already super long. basically: animorphs good. I’ll probably do another post like this semi-soon as I continue reading (I'm partway thru book 10 now)

#not me doing another liveblog that i probably wont finish #animorphs #lj reads animorphs

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starlightshore · 4 years

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hotmuffincrumbs replied to your photo: i’m,,,,, trying,,,,,, i forgot that the knight has...

You should try animating it in two parts. First the primary animation, and after the secondary animation like the cloth and hair. It helps ;9

U///U thank u sm! i’m using the base but it doesn’t fit my art style (SO thin wtf!) so i’m gonna concentrate on the body first from now on! i’m determined to get this to look right >:3c

aside from that big anniversary animation i did in November, the last animation i did was this!

which has 22 frames and was a pain in the ass. i’m not even completely happy with it either ;-; doesn’t really have a kick to it!

i think my main issue was trying to resize the reference and fighting that, so i ‘m gonna try adapting the reference into my style the best i can??? augh it feels weird. its just tracing but it feeeels weird. i haven’t rotoscoped since highschool

what i’m trying to do is sketch out the main shapes, drawing one frame at a time then doing the detail. like, one finger at a time ect. i think its ok? not perfect and i’ll defs get better as i go along rippp i can already see the smile has bad placement, i just feel so out of my league! but thats all the more reason i’m glad i’m doing this because i really do need to work on my animation skills!

#hotmuffincrumbs #personal stuff

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

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The Morning After

This is the wip sequel to Two drunk men, a tree and a cat. It has been previously posted here in bits as I was using it to write for fifteen minutes each day at lunch. I stopped at some point because to be honest, fifteen minutes is okay to start and continue a fic, but concentration is needed to finish a fic and tie up all loose ends. So it has been sitting on my iPad neglected for a few months.

I don’t have time this morning to proof it, so it is as it was when I rush wrote it and it is still not finished, but @melmac78 was looking for a laugh and honestly, I’m thin on the ground for them, so here be another offering for what it is. It will finish it at some point, polish and archive, but for now it is still rough.

Anyways, I hope it is vaguely enjoyable ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

He was comfy.

That was the only word for it.

Unfortunately, comfort was apparently inversely proportional to consciousness, because as he slowly woke, the degree of pain in his head increased.

Ergh.

Ow.

He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know the world was spinning around him. Around and around and around and, oh god.

His arms were wrapped around something...someone...warm and for a moment, focussing on that warmth kept the ugh at bay.

Hmm, Kay?

But then he got a whiff of something rank and his stomach rolled again.

The pillow was soft.

In bed. He was in bed.

His brain was not working properly.

Concussion? He’d had a few of those in his career and this felt ever so familiar.

A frown.

No.

Not concussion.

Late night. Party. Getting married. Despite himself, he smiled and snuggled into Kay’s warmth.

Huh?

That smell again. Urgh.

“K..ergh.”

“Vir...gl?”

Huh?

No, waking up was bad. Not want to wake up. He snuggled again, rubbing his cheek up against her hair.

“Virgil, whatcha doin’?” A brother. There was a brother in the room.

“Ergmmm...go ‘way.” He held her tighter. A vague thought, and he kissed her, hoping kissy-kissy would scare whichever brother it was away and let them sleep.

“Can’t.”

“Go ‘way! ‘Sleep.”

“You’re hugging my feet.”

It took a moment for the dots to connect, for the realisation that ‘Kay’ was much thinner than usual, that her hair smelt like old socks.

Connecting now...

Virgil’s eyes flew open and came face to face with Scott’s long hairy legs, wrapped in his own bare arms.

Virgil had day old socks shoved up against his nose.

“Sh-“

Scrambling backwards sent the world spinning, the bed missing and the floor hard.

“Oh god.”

Scott’s laugh was coarse and ended in a groan.

Served him right.

Virgil rolled over on the carpet and despite himself, echoed his brother’s groan. “What the hell happened?”

“Party, dude.”

Gordon.

What the hell was Gordon doing in his room?

“What...doing?”

“You’re definitely up there on the intellectual scale this morning, Virg.”

“Shut up.”

Opening his eyes produced a ceiling and two light fixtures...no one...uh, two...oh, god, urgh.

“Lookin’ a little green there, bro.”

“G-t lost.”

“No, no, I can’t. Thunderbird Five has assigned me ‘make sure they don’t die’ duty.”

“Where is John?”

“Getting breakfast.”

Ergh, food. “Why?” Room service. There was room service.

“Apparently, the ultimate bagel shop is just around the corner. You’re not allowed to die while he’s gone.”

Virgil finally worked out how to turn his head and came face to face with a pair of feet. Sandals. And sand? “You have sand.”

“Huh? Oh, forgot to rinse them last time. A little exfoliation won’t hurt.”

A blink and Virgil just groaned at him.

“So you staying down there all day? I hear Scott wants you to kiss his feet again.”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t work the first time, not workin’ the second.” A pause. There were legs attached to those sandalled feet weren’t there? “C’mon, Virg, you need a hand up?”

“How’re you so...chirpy?”

He could feel the answering grin without seeing it. “Because I am Gordo the Magnificent, ruler of all things alcoholic.”

“Stick it.”

“Such insolence from the audience. Perhaps, I won’t help you up.”

“Fine. I’m great where I am.”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil used it to close his eyes again. Ah, blessed darkness.

A sigh. “Nah, c’mon, Virg, we gotta get you onto the bed.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time and that’s how you ended up kissing Scott’s feet.”

“Huh?”

“And there’s the intellectual brother I know.”

“Go ‘way.”

“Nope.” And there were hands on his shoulders and they were pulling him up and the world was tipping and oh my god, the spinning...ergh.

A pillow hit his face and he sunk into it. He screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep his stomach where is was supposed to be.

“So, today is the after party.”

Oh, so Gordon was still going. “G’way.”

“Uh-uh. That’s not going to work either. You told me you wanted to visit the Gallery, so we’re visiting the Gallery.”

The Gallery.

Virgil had a rule. If he visited a city on vacation, he made a point to stop at the art gallery. His list of visited sites was now longer than his arm. He’d become quite a connoisseur of all things artistic and if he was so inclined, he had the cash to invest.

Not that he ever did. Honestly, it was more about inspiration and admiration. He did have two or three favourites stashed back on the Island, but mostly he just gazed at them.

But today...gazing hurt.

“Rainch’k.” The pillow was so soft. He let himself drift.

“You’ll regret it.” It was sung. Gordon couldn’t sing. Ugh.

“Leave me along, Gordon, please.”

“No, you made me promise.”

Augh. “‘M on vacation.”

“Scott!”

On the other side of the room, his eldest brother yelped and shot out of bed and landed on the floor. A second of silence.

“Gordon! What the hell?!”

“Time to get up!”

“Gordon, leave him alone!” Some how Virgil found himself upright on the edge of the bed. It took a moment for his head to catch up and when it did, it slammed into him. Why did he do this? This was why he didn’t do this, because this happened. Oh, his head just, oh. He shoved the palms of his hands into his eye sockets attempting to push the pain out his ears.

TBC

“Upsy daisy, up and at ‘em. The early bird gets the worm.”

“The annoying brother gets hit.”

“Now, now, Scott, that is not how a responsible eldest brother behaves.”

“Gordon, if you don’t leave the room, I’m going to responsible your head into the nearest toilet bowl and flush it until your degree in marine biology slides out your ears.”

The picture that evoked in Virgil’s head was quite detailed. “Can I help?” He didn’t bother to pull the hands from his eyes. Who needed eyes to see with anyway?

“Well, that’s gratitude for you. Here I am, preventing your deaths from accidentally inhaling a regurgitated last night’s meal-“

“I’m preventing your death by counting to ten and I’m about to run out of numbers.” Scott was actually growling.

“Okay, okay, let your deaths be on you.” The sound of sandalled steps in the direction of the door and a loud thud.

Thud?

“Gordon?” Scott called his brother’s name just as Virgil dropped his hands from his face. The room was blurry for a moment and he only caught Scott staggering across the room after he had already started moving. There was a sense of urgency all of a sudden and it pushed a groggy Virgil to his feet. Two steps and he stubbed his big toe on the leg of the bed.

“Shit. Goddamnit.”

“Language.” But it was distracted. “Gordon?”

There was no answer and as Virgil peered around his eldest brother, alarm bells started ringing in his head.

Gordon was flat on his back, out cold on the floor.

What the hell?

-o-o-o-

TBC

Virgil stumbled over to his brother as fast as he could limping. Scott was already assessing Gordon for injury.

An egg shaped lump was forming in the middle of the aquanaut’s forehead.

As Virgil’s knees hit the floor, Gordon’s eyelids fluttered. “Wha-?”

“Gordon? You with me?” Scott’s voice was remarkably cool considering the situation.

Their little brother closed his eyes again and just groaned, rolling himself into a ball.

“Hey, hey, keep still.”

“G’way.”

“Gordon-“

“I’m fine. Juss hit m’head.”

“How?” It was out of Virgil’s mouth before he could filter it.

Scott eyed him and for a moment Virgil saw double. Shit, He was never drinking that much again.

“St’pid door.”

A blink and Virgil looked up at the closed door to their room. The dots danced in his head before slamming home. “You walked into the door?!” Ow, too loud. He shaved a hand onto his forehead and tried to keep his brain inside his skull.

“Stupid door.” Gordon rolled over and sat up.

“You’re drunk.” It was a sign of how hungover his eldest brother was in how he said that statement with so much awe.

“N’t drunk. Hit m’head.”

“Because you’re drunk.” The whole concept of happy chirpy go lucky Gordon who had been torturing them both since the moment consciousness had returned appeared to revitalise his eldest brother. A huge grin spread across his face and he even let out a laugh.

Seeing that Gordon was still in mostly one piece and functioning at least at a basic capacity, Virgil wobbled to his feet and made a beeline back to his bed, only tripping over his own feet once. His pillow was so soft, so warm, augh....he let his eyes drift shut.

A vague register of a scuffle on the floor. A click of the latch and a creak of the door opening.

Scott gasped. “John?”

What now? Groaning Virgil rolled over and found his next youngest brother standing in the doorway staring down at Gordon on the floor. Scott shot to his feet.

John’s hair was all askew and his arms bore several bleeding scratches. One hand held a bag of bagels, the other a makeshift bandage around it. His shirt was torn and there was a twig sticking out of his pocket.

Virgil didn’t have the energy to ask. Scott did anyway.

“What the hell happened to you?”

-o-o-o-

TBC

John was hungry.

Sitting on his bed with only his tablet for company might have been a preferred existence at any other time, but today it wasn’t enough. Perhaps it was because technically he wasn’t alone with said tablet. Technically, he had two brothers in the room with him, but neither were particularly good company.

Amusing perhaps as Virgil was currently snuggled up to Scott’s feet, hugging them like his life depended on it. He wondered if Kayo had to wrestle the unconscious bear at night, but then realised that was information he didn’t really need.

The other factor affecting his state of aloneness was the noise.

Both Scott and Virgil were snoring like passing freight trains. Virgil was slightly worse than his eldest brother, but honestly, John would probably need some audio measuring equipment to truly tell the difference.

But all this was currently beside the point. The point now was that he was hungry. It was breakfast time and ever since Virgil had announced that this would be where they were staying for the bachelor event, John had jumped at the opportunity to breakfast at Billy’s Bagels, just around the corner from the hotel.

The online recommendation for bagel lovers had this establishment at the top of the list. This was the place, the epitome of bagel baking and he had been wanting to sample their menu for quite some time.

This was the perfect opportunity.

Except he had to keep an eye on his drunk brothers.

He had to make sure they weren’t ill in their sleep. Make sure they were safe. Because both of those factors had been removed from their own capabilities at about drink number four last night.

John had one or two drinks, but John felt he needed to be the responsible one and he was. It wasn’t often such a tactic was needed, but today it was.

But he was hungry.

Maybe Gordon could help him out.

The two youngest brothers were stashed next door. Alan was as sozzled as his eldest brothers, but Gordon seemed to be able to handle his drink so Gordon had been assigned Alan and John had tackled Scott and Virgil.

Maybe he could dash out to the store and come back.

Quietly slipping out of the room, he tapped softly on the next door. “Gordon?”

The door was shoved open so abruptly, John nearly fell through it.

“Hey, John.”

The sound of a computer shooting game screamed into the hallway. “What are you doing?”

“Killing zombies. Wanna join?” Gordon was staring up at him, a grin on his face, his hair sticking up at all angles. His face was flushed and his eyes bright.

“No. Could you keep an eye on Scott and Virgil for a few minutes, I’d like to go grab some breakfast.”

Gordon blinked. “Why not call room service? They make great pancakes.” To emphasise his point, he reached around the door and grabbed a syrup soaked piece of such a pancake and shoved it in his mouth.

John refused to react, much less comment. “I want to visit the bagel store around the corner. Could you keep an eye on the guys?”

“Sure! Alan, you’re on your own.”

The comment from beyond the door was not repeatable.

John frowned. “Is Alan okay?”

“Heh, he’s fine. I just left him at the boss battle fighting for his life.” There was a loud crash and a spray of profanity from the flickering darkness. “Well, he was, perhaps not now.”

“Gordon, you suck!”

His brother grinned and slipped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

John was frowning, but doing his best to ignore it all. “They’re both asleep. Try not to wake them up.”

“FAB.” Gordon grinned at him again and wandered back towards the other room and slipped in quietly.

Hmm.

But Billy’s Bagels! Confirming his phone was in his pocket, John made a beeline for the elevator.

-o-o-o-

TBC

The bagel shop was a bagel lover’s dream. They had cream cheese, they had blueberry, they had one concoction that included smoked salmon, capers and blue veined cheese that sat atop a savoury milkshake.

They had hot cinnamon, sugar encrusted, chop chip, caramel glazed burritos.

It was heaven.

John grabbed a takeout breakfast, a dozen still-warm, multi-flavoured varieties and one of those savoury milkshakes.

It was too outlandish to ignore.

So half an hour longer than he had expected to be, found John Tracy tramping back to the hotel room totally satisfied with his purchases. He had even made a bulk order for Tracy Island to be delivered in the coming weeks.

The milkshake was interesting. he found himself completely fascinated by the fact that it had tiny pieces of salmon floating in it, yet it was still quite tasty. Being of the enquiring type, he eventually pulled off the cup lid and poked at the concoction inside.

Distracted, he did not see the cat.

His foot came down on something soft and not made of pavement. There was a godawful screech and that something sunk its claws into his leg.

Ever graceful in non-gravity influenced situations, John was anything but in this situation.

A yelp, a stagger, an overbalancing squawk and John Tracy hit the pavement in a heap.

The claws in his leg immediately became claws in his arm, his chest, a swipe across his face and caught in his hair, a cat screamed in his ear.

Desperate to protect his face, his arms came up and what little was left of his milkshake ended up on said face.

The resultant expletives were appropriately exotic.

Something was licking his ear.

He sat up and the cat climbed into his lap.

What the-?

“What do you think you are doing?”

The cat ignored him at first. Much more interested in licking salmon off his kneecap, but when John reached for the cat to move it, a pair of startling blue eyes peered up and deployed their entire arsenal of cuteness upon him.

Now, John knew he came across a little cold sometimes, a little on the harder side of the emotional equation, but if he was honest with himself, much of it was a facade.

Particularly where it came to cats.

But then again, considering that this was likely the cat that had tangled with his brothers last night...yes, there was that same tree, not two metres away...he should be suspect.

But, yes, this cat was cute.

TBC

Cute indeed.

Until a pigeon landed nearby.

The cat went from cute furball to feral killer in a split second. Silent and deadly it leapt at the bird.

And missed.

The pigeon being of metropolitan origin, took it in its stride, landing once again nearby. Apparently there was something equally attractive to birds as to cats in that milkshake splattered all over the sidewalk.

Or it may have been the bagel that had fallen out of the bag.

One of his precious, precious bagels.

“Scat!”

The cat jumped.

The pigeon didn’t. It eyed him.

John had never had a staring contest with a pigeon before.

Apparently, neither had the cat. It pounced yet again.

The pigeon politely flapped out of its way.

The bagel was still on the ground. Part of John wanted to give it to the pigeon, but he knew bread wasn’t great for birds and that was a hell of a lot of bagel for one pigeon.

The cat pounced again.

This time the pigeon flapped into the tree and stared down at them haughtily.

John sighed and reached over to pick up the bagel.

He’d never been swooped by a pigeon before either.

Also, the laws of gravity should have denied said pigeon the ability to snatch the bagel from his fingers.

But then gravity had always been his enemy.

Ultimately, the bagel went flying, the the cat leapt again and John ended up back on his butt on the pavement.

Ow.

This was ridiculous.

The cat obviously agreed and let it all out with a mad scrabbling of claws on bark, leapt into the tree and chased the pigeon along a branch.

The pigeon, of course, simply lifted off, hovered just long enough above John to deposit guano on his shirt, before calmly flying off.

Well, at least it didn’t get the bagel.

The cat meowed down at him several metres up.

Hadn’t this situation happened before?

TBC?

“What the hell happened to you?”

John stared at his brother and sighed. “There was a cat stuck in a tree.”

Scott blinked slowly, obviously still feeling the night before. He opened his mouth and then shut it again before holding up a hand. “You know what, I don’t want to hear it.” He eyed his brother. “Unless you are bleeding to death and haven’t told me.” Those eyes roamed up and down John’s height.

“No, I’m not bleeding to death.” Another sigh and he took the few more steps needed to get into the room and shut the door behind him.

Virgil registered only one thing. “Wh-t is that smell?!” Ugh, it wasn’t ding his stomach any favours at all.

John wandered into the kitchenette and dumped his bagels. Virgil eyed him as he walked past. “You smell like fish!” Oh, shit. His stomach rolled over. Not gonna, oh god, not gonna. He held his breath until the urge waned. “Keep away from me.”

Scott dragged Gordon off the floor and threw him at the couch. “Sit down and let us know if you have a concussion.”

Gordon groaned, but he did what his brother told him, rolling onto the couch with a grunt and closing his eyes.

The eldest brother eyed him again and Virgil groaned, forcing himself to sit up. “You take John, I’ll take Gordon. Try not to puke.” Staggering to his feet, Virgil wobbled his way over to his fish brother and planted himself beside him. “Gordon, you’re an idiot.”

A groan. “And you’re related, sucked in.”

He had to snort at that. A smile even curved his lips as his hand landed on his brother’s arm. “So proud, bro.”

“Shut up, Virgil.”

“You fell out of a tree?!” It was loud. It came from the kitchenette, and Virgil was glad he chose Gordon this time.

“John is so in the shit.”

“No more than you.”

“Heh, I’m used to it.”

Again the smile crept up on him. Was fondness a symptom of alcohol poisoning? He let his head drop against the back of the couch.

“You okay, Virg?”

“Been better.”

“Happy bachelor’s party, bro.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Gordon’s hand landed on his. Okay, now they were getting soppy.

Fortunately, John chose that moment to wobble back into the room. He dumped himself on the edge of Virgil’s bed.

“You okay?” The man had hastily applied bandaids all over him.

“Been better.”

A blink. “Scott recovered yet?”

“No, he was still reciting Dad’s fourth amendment when I left.”

Great, that meant there would likely be more as soon as the eldest finished up in the kitchenette.

“Who won?”

John blinked. “Ah, the pigeon?”

“There was a pigeon?”

“Uh, huh.” John frowned. “Uh, where’s Alan?”

TBC?

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy

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