#However I tend to just stick with imagining him looking like his in game model BUT IT'S HARD TO DECIDE!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

linkspooky · 4 years

Text

There Are No True Heroes

Dabi is shown wrapped in shadow as he confronts Hawks this chapter. That is because as his foil, as both of them were abused by the hero system as basically raised as child soldiers under the name of “hero training” they are two sides of the same coin. No one is closer to Hawks than Dabi, because Dabi is his own shadow. Dabi however is not just serving as a shadow for Hawks in a Jungian sense, but as a collective shadow for hero society as a whole. Read More underneath the cut explaining Dabi’s words for how there can be no true heroes in a society that doesn’t save people like Twice or Touya Todoroki.

1. A Society of Repression

Before getting the ball rolling I’m going to introduce some terms important to Jungian Psychology.

Jung saw the conscious mind divided in two. This is often referred to as the “iceberg model” because for the same reason that the titanic failed to dodge the ice berg, most people don’t have a true comprehension of personality because there’s much more going on than just what can be perceived in the surface.

The surface of personality is called the ego or the conscious mind. This is all of the thoughts you are aware of, all of the decisions you make, like your behavior, how you act, what you say, what you think, all of these things are conscious aspects of personality. They’re referred to as consicous because we can see, look at, control them to some extent. For example people tend to behave differently depending on their environment, you don’t usually swear in front of your grandparents but you might around your friends. The fact that you are choosing how you present yourself means part of personality will always be a performance.

The unconscious mind is specifically what you are not aware of. It’s everything else that makes up personality. Jung believed the unconscious mind existed in a form called the shadow. The shadow is cast by what the light of consciousness projects, and consists of everything that consciousness excludes. It is the unknown side. If the consciousness is the face, the shadow is the reverse face.

It’s the difference of who you choose to be and who you are at heart.

“We can speak of the conscious ego as the subjective personality, and of the shadow self as the objective personality.”

Because one tends to reject or remain ignorant of the least desirable aspects of one's personality, the shadow is largely negative. There are, however, positive aspects that may also remain hidden in one's shadow (especially in people with low self-esteem, anxieties, and false beliefs).

The mechanism that people use to remain unaware of these aspects of their personality is called repression.

Repression. Repression. The unconscious suppression of psychic contents that are incompatible with the attitude of consciousness. Repression is a process that begins in early childhood under the moral influence of the environment and continues through life. [“The Personal and the Collective Unconscious,” CW 7,]

In general, people have a tendency to avoid rather than confront issues, especially if those issues are personal ones. Repression is a technique of avoidance to try to keep the mind healthy in spite of internal or external stress. Psychologically speaking it’s avoiding the problem. While of course it’s impossible to live life confronting every single problem possible, there’s still a difference between acknowledging a problem and admitting that it’s a problem and dealing with it by simply pretending that it is not there. Repression renders problems invisble by turning a blind eye to them, which is why this meta will be speaking of societal repression on a whole later one.

Jung suggests the idea that repression, having a shadow, being two-faced is not something that certain individuals do but rather something everybody is doing at the same time. In a society of people who all have this unconscious aspect of their mind Jung suggests the collective unconscious exists.

That the shared human experience of everybody existing within a society will create a collective suboncious amongst these people. The collective unconscious is unconscious ideas of society or life that just seem to be there. The myth of the hero itself is a product of collective unconscious, Jung posits every culture comes up with myths of heroes because that idea exists in some deep layer of our minds and it’s something we all have in common beyond the bounds of personal consciousness.

So just to summarize quickly you have three layers, personal conscious who you choose to be, the shadow who you are, and the collective unconscious what society is.

In Jung’s terms absolutely everything has a shadow.

"The image of God has a shadow. The supreme meaning is real and casts a shadow. For what can be actual and corporeal and have no shadow?"

All Might and All For One are literally a symbolic hero and shadow pairing. All Might is someone who attempts to influence society by being the best hero he can be, All For One tries to control society too through violent methods. All Might is conscious of how he wants to create a peaceful, controlled society but unconscious of the violence inherent in his actions.

The shadow is something that everyone collectively ignores as well. Someone even points out that All Might’s actions are still violence whether it’s heroic or not and All Might doesn’t even address the argument he just blows it off. In a repressed society the issues that everyone wants to avoid aren’t dealt with they’re insvisible.

So not only is there an individual repression, but there are also aspects of societal repression. If everything casts a shadow then society itself can cast a shadow. The issues that everyone is avoiding, the issues that everyone is ignorant to will manifest in some way.

"Unfortunately there can be no doubt that man is, on the whole, less good than he imagines himself or wants to be. Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. If an inferiority is conscious, one always has a chance to correct it. Furthermore, it is constantly in contact with other interests, so that it is continually subjected to modifications. But if it is repressed and isolated from consciousness, it never gets corrected."

This is an idea that has been expressed in comics several times before. One of the most famous ones is Rorsharch’s monologue from Watchmen.

Rorsarch’s monologue is expressing a strictly Jungian idea. If no one attempts to deal with the problems that are inherent in modern day society and effect everybody, then those problematic elements will eventually float to the surface no matter how much they’re ignored. If one person litters it’s not a big deal, but if one hundred people litter then there’s going to be trash everywhere. If people keep ignoring the trash everywhere and make no attempt to deal with it, the problem is just going to stick around until it’s impossible to ignore.

This is what we are witnessing happening in My Hero Academia as of this arc. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will form up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout, save us!

The League of Villains are not just characters. They are the manifestations of what has been repressed about society. They are the filth that has accumulated floating to the surface. This is an inevitability with repression. Everything that is repressed will show eventually.

2. There Are No Real Heroes

Dabi’s statement “There are No Real Heroes” isn’t just him being an edgelord. It’s a genuine response to the trauma he’s suffered. There’s on example from another piece of media I think illustrates this perfectly.

Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode is a story where children who were abused begin a rebellion first by killing the adults who abused them, and then against the society that ignored their abuse, but they begin taking it too far and slaughter adults who were not involved.

There is one moment in the game where the main character, a normal girl who has never been abused by an adult confronts one of the children about this. The best argument she can come up with is “Not all adults...”

The child’s response is to scream: “Then why didn’t anyone save me?”

If the world is good. If people are just. If heroes exist. Then why did this little girl not get saved? Why was she abused by the people around her? Why did no one else come to help?

Remember Jung, people are on a whole not as good as we imagine them to be. The heroes in My Hero Academia are the same. We are told that they save people. We are told that they are good and right. Yet we witness countless examples of heroes not saving people. We see heroes being used as tools of violent suppression, rather than saving people.

There are no real heroes. In Stain’s words, heroes are phonies. That’s because heroes are not as good as we are told they are. Society is not as good as we are told.

What’s important is that a child is screaming this. What good is a society that can’t save one little girl? How do you expect a child to understand the reasons why they weren’t saved? For Dabi, for Stain, heroes are people who we are told are good but don’t act good. This is especially prevalent for Dabi who was hurt personally and had his entire family destroyed by one of the bad heroes. How is Dabi supposed to believe that heroes are good, when not only does Endeavor who doesn’t care about saving other people only defeating strong enemies is constantly praised as a good hero, but also completely got away with what he did to his family.

There is Endeavor the hero.

There is Endeavor’s shadow.

How can one of his victims. Someone who was most likely killed by him really believe that heroes exist when he was killed by a hero? How can he believe society is good when his father is praised by society. This is what repression does it makes people ignorant, and therefore complicit. Endeavor is not just the problem he’s propped up by society as a whole. Even people who are good, well-intentioned people end up supporting Endeavor completely ignorant to what he’s done.

All might literally not only openly supports a child abuser like Endeavor, but praises him as a good hero, and even reccomends other children like Bakugo and Deku study under him. How much of this is genuine igonrance, and how much is intenitonal negligence? Todoroki walks around with a scar on his face and a clear chip on his shoulder about his dad. All Might doesn’t notice because he’s never questioned hero society before.

This is something we are shown over and over about hero society. That it thrives by intentional negligence. Shigaraki’s not being edgy once again he’s talking from experience.

Shigaraki suffers a terrible accident and despite wandering around looking for help at five years old in one of the most densely populated places with several heroes running around not a single person comes to help him. It’s not just ignorance it’s intentional negligence, because Shigaraki’s not a good or virtuous victim, because Heroes don’t save people they beat up villains. They’re a tool for violent suppression.

All Might acting as the symbol of peace also acted as a symbol of repression. Because there are groups of people who don’t get saved by All Might. People like Twice who will never get saved. How can they call themselves heroes if the weakest, the worst off, the most damaged are always thrown to the wolves.

3. A Reckoning

What is repressed cannot stay repressed forever. Dabi is covered in shadow this entire chapter, because he’s acting as a stand-in for the repressed id of society. The shadow that is there and is created by the heroes. He even parallels the way Hawks was a few chapters ago.

Another unheroic hero. A hero who doesn’t save someone crying and begging for help in front of them and instead decides to stab them in the back because that’s is what is easiest and most convenient.

Hawks. Endeavor. Heroes in general, claim to be heroic, claim to never give up. But then don’t bother to save people like twice, even when they’re crying and begging in front of them. We are being presented with heroes as they exist in the ideal, and then the way heroes actually act. Miruko says a hero never gives up, Hawks gave up on Twice and tried to murder him ridiclously fast.

The light casts a shadow, this is a paradox we’ve seen before with Endeavor too. Hawks sees Endeavor as an ideal of someone who never gives up.

Natsuo rightfully pointed out that Endeavor gave up all too quickly actually. He gave up fighting against All Might and instead abused his wife and children.

For every single action there is the light and there is the shadow. However, hero society never acknowledges the shadow and chooses to repress its evils instead of confronting them. It’s not that Endeavor abused his family it’s that he got away with it, not a single person held him accountable. Hawks was taken in by the hero commission in the exact same way that Shigaraki was by AFO, and nobody held them accountable for doing that to a child.

Child abuse is still child abuse even if the “good guys” are doing it. In Jungian ideas if nothing is confronted about society then eventually something will rise up.

"[The figure of the Trickster] is the collective shadow."

A collective shadow. A collective societal Id. Returning to Rorsharch’s quote it’s quite literally the trash that everyone threw away floating back up to the surface and brought to light. This is why people are moved by Stain’s words, because it is in a way a wake up call to confront what is wrong about society.

Stain, Shigaraki, Dabi all three of them are manifesting of literal collective shadows of society. They are there to confront what everyone is told is good and show the darker sides to things.

That is essentially what Dabi is talking about. Dabi himself is not just an abused child, he stands in for all of the abused children who get left behind or ignored by society.

What Dabi is talking about is a reckoning. The confrontation with the shadow of society that will inevitably happen. The garbage floating to the surface. Dabi is embodying that shadow in his actions. Individuals don’t matter. What matters is the collective will of everybody, all of the outcasts banded together, everything which can be no longer ignored.

Which is why in a Jungian sense, the league themselves do not matter. Dabi himself does not matter. Not even Hawks matters. What matters is the ideas they represent behind them. It’s why Dabi cannot be killed, because eventually hero society continuing on unchanged will just create another Dabi.

Individuals and individual suffering do not matter in the face of hero society. That’s what Dabi is angrily reminding Hawks of. He may have just saved a bunch of people by killing Twice, but nobody is going to thank him, his deeds are going to go unrewarded, because in the end Hawks too is somebody as equally disposable as Dabi and Twice. What matters is the ideas they represent, and Hawks has murdered someone in the name of resisting change to the status quo while Dabi is trying to fight it. Hawks too is complicit in the same system that abused him as a child, and his actions do nothing to stop that abuse.

A reckoning. A fall. A shadow that is not confronted or acknowledged will never change. If it is repressed it will never get corrected. My Hero Academia posits that not only is hero society falling inevitable, it is also necessary. Dabi himself is a villain, but he’s also acting as the shadow of all of the ills of society in order to force society to confront those ills rather than just continue on ignoring them.

#mha meta #hawks #dabi #league of villains #hero society #takami keigo #todoroki touya #my hero academia meta #my hero academia

881 notes · View notes

imaginesandinserts · 3 years

Text

Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve

Title: Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~10K

A/N: Flashback Chapter set between Chapter 14: Superheroes and Chapter 15: Foyet.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The bar was thrumming with activity and the energy that accompanies people who've all had a long, hard day at work and would like to do nothing besides forget. The team had gotten back from a case in the evening, and with only Friday separating them and the weekend, had all decided to head out for a night of drinking.

You look around, your hands wrapped around a glass of scotch - Derek, Penelope, and Emily were dancing in the makeshift dancing area, JJ was playing darts with some guys, Spencer was cheating people out of their money at a game of pool, and Rossi had long ago excused himself to go sit by some woman at the bar. You'd be dancing too, but the unsub had gotten the jump on you during the takedown and you'd been nursing a sprained ankle ever since. Hotch had stayed with you - whether it was simply to keep you company or because none of the other activities appealed to him, you're unsure. Likely the former - he was pretty good at darts too.

He's sitting across from you in the booth, a glass of scotch in his hand as well. He doesn't make a face when he drinks it, which you have to admire - it was such a man thing. You only drank liquor to get drunk and had been surprised with the drink by Rossi, who had insisted that you needed to drink something stronger than a glass of wine after the day you'd had. You take another hesitant sip from your glass, trying hard not to give away how little you like it. He could've ordered you a mixed drink - something sweet so you didn't taste just pure alcohol.

"What've you got going on this weekend?" you ask Hotch. The case had been miserable all around and you wanted to talk about anything but that.

He looks up at you, the faint hint of a smile on his face. "Haley and I worked it out so that I can have Jack the entire weekend. I'll have to think of something to keep him occupied."

You knew that Hotch would be content to do nothing as long as it was with Jack, but he liked to make the most of their time together and did his best to plan things out that Jack would like. "I saw a poster that said the Air and Space Museum has some special exhibit on this month. It looked interesting." You knew Jack would enjoy that - his latest toy was a rocketship that went everywhere with him.

"Saturday?" he asks, eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Make it 11, and you've got a deal," you tell him, with a small smile. "I am no longer entertaining plans at 9am."

He lets out a slight huff. "If you just went to bed at a normal hour it wouldn't be that hard to wake up in the morning."

This was an old argument with the two of you. Hotch insisted on always being the first in line to any ticketed event. He hated waiting - he'd start to fidget and get annoyed and keep leaving the line to walk to the front and see what was taking so long.

"Take it or leave it." You were sticking your ground. He could use the lie in too, he'd just never admit it.

"We'll pick you up," he says, bringing his glass to his mouth and taking another sip, eyes meeting yours from above the rim.

It was interesting how you and Hotch had settled into this routine of constantly doing things with Jack. You reckon he likes having another adult around when he's out with Jack - it definitely made things easier to keep a little kid entertained. You'd once mentioned to Emily that you were having dinner with him and Jack and she'd looked at you a little oddly, saying that she'd been on the team forever and had never once had dinner with her boss and his kid. You'd responded by telling her that she probably wouldn't enjoy it all too much - Emily liked kids just fine, but her and Hotch tend to get on one another's nerves a bit after a while. They were far too different even if they did work well together. Hotch would try and fail at limiting her to two glasses of wine with dinner and she'd annoy him by just putting the dishes straight into the dishwasher without caring how she did it.

"Someone sent this over for you." You turn to see the waitress place a drink at your table, and indicate towards a man in a wrinkled suit, seated at the bar, who waves at you.

You can feel your face turn into a grimace as the waitress looks at you expectantly. You avoid looking at Hotch across the way. You didn't need to see his reaction. "Would you mind telling him thanks, but, no thanks for me?" you ask her apologetically.

She nods understandingly, taking the drink back and walking towards the bar.

You turn to look at Hotch, completely exasperated. It was nice. It was a nice gesture - sending a girl a drink. Friendly. Yet, you're just a little at your wit's end lately when it comes to men. It all just feels superficial.

Hotch can read you pretty well by now, so he asks if you're alright.

You look at his concerned face. You know why - usually you don't mind this sort of thing. Hell, you pretty much encourage it with the way you act, flirting with nearly everyone simply because you can. It's like a sport to you.

"Are you asking as my boss or as my friend?" you ask him, eyes cast down towards your drink, following patterns in the wood of the table.

"Friend," he says, adjusting to lean in a bit more towards you.

Sighing, you shift a bit, dropping your leg from where you'd been keeping it elevated next to him. "Lately, I just feel like I can't get guys to see me. Like every guy I meet, they either want to date me or kill me," you tell him, referring to your job. "But beyond that, it's like I don't even matter."

Hotch nods understandingly at your frustration, his face a grimace at your explanation. He's unable to deny that that is very much the case when it comes to women quite often - especially in your line of work. You're all far too aware of the horrors of dating, being called in on numerous cases on dating gone wrong. "Aren't you still seeing that guy - Kensington?" he asks with a slight uptick of his jaw.

"Well, if you can call seeing someone six times over the course of about an equal number of months, then yes I suppose so," you scoff lightly. "Twice we got called in on cases halfway, once he got interrupted by a work emergency, and then most recently I accompanied him to an event at which most of the other dates were the kind that demand a retainer in exchange for services rendered," you say, alluding to the super model types you'd kept company at Cedric's business event a couple of weeks back. You could fit into his world quite easily, but you didn't want to. You'd left that behind for a reason.

Hotch chuckles slightly at that, amused at your tone and manner in which you referred to women who were essentially either escorts or sugar babies. You didn't really fit that mold - of that he was quite certain. For one, you definitely didn't need the money.

"Don't get me wrong, I actually do like him. We get one another and our background and upbringing is similar enough. He makes me laugh. However our schedules - both of ours - are highly unconducive to dating and in his line of business he needs a girlfriend who can leave everything at the drop of a hat to stand by his side."

"So unless you leave your job or he leaves his, it won't work out," Hotch finishes your thought for you, a resigned expression on his face in commiseration.

"Exactly. Which is a shame because he's actually one of the good ones. He's rich but not pompous, educated and intelligent without being condescending about it, and actually shows genuine interest in me and my job. Believe it or not, as basic as those things might seem, they are actually difficult to find all in one man."

He hums. "I can imagine," he says, taking another sip of his drink, a slightly amused expression on his face. You rarely talked to him about your dating life so he was actually very interested in this insight. He wonders briefly if there's any significance to you having listed the fact that Kensington was wealthy before any of his other qualities. From what he knows of you, he doubts you'd truly care if your partner had money or not. More than likely it merely helped establish a commonality, nothing more. However, from what he does know of the men you've dated recently, they all appear to be quite well off nonetheless.

"Anyways, all that is to say that I'm not exactly looking to entertain complete strangers in bars at the moment. I don't trust my luck."

"Probably for the best, anyways," Hotch comments, appraising the crowd at the bar. There really didn't appear to be anyone worth talking to - especially none of your caliber, per his judgement.

"What about you? How's the post divorce dating scene?" you question, feeling a little bolder than you usually might, since the two of you are already discussing the matter. Turnabout was fair play.

He's a little surprised at your forwardness. You tend to do your best to not meddle in his personal business, despite the amount of time you two spend together. He believes it's your way of maintaining some modicum of professionalism to your outings. Your conversations tend to revolve around cases, your classes from college, an article in the newspaper, or the ever present game the two of you like to play of profiling complete strangers walking by. He says its to hone your skills, but really he just enjoys how invested you get - how competitive and passionate, color rising in your cheeks as you defend your assessment, annoyance tinging your tone as you disagree with him, admiration when he notes something you hadn't, and pride when he praises your observations, your cheeks flushed a prettier pink and your eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"I wouldn't know," he discloses, a slight flush in his cheeks. He hadn't dated at all since the divorce. He hadn't had the time and he hadn't really had interest in anyone. Not when you exist, so overtly present in his day to day life. He knows he's - in some capacity - using the outings with you and Jack as the closest thing he's got to dating again. Not to say that it was that - dating. However the fact that his weekends were typically filled by you and his son made it so he wasn't exactly left wanting.

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. Their divorce had been a while back now - you knew for a fact that Haley was dating, having ran into her with some man when you'd offered to drop Jack off for Hotch when you all got called in on a case last minute. You hadn't mentioned it to him, but you're sure he knew as well. "You're joking. Really? No one?"

"You might recall, I got divorced because I didn't have the time for my existing relationship. A new one requires quite a bit more attention than that," he says dryly, self deprecation dripping from every word.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at him as you stir your drink with the toothpick it came with, spearing the cherry inside and popping it into your mouth.

"You should just go for it next time we're in some whatever town. Every female detective we've encountered constantly gets all moony eyed around you," you inform him matter-of-factly. They're all so obvious too, eyes always drawn to his ring finger in search of a wedding band, and upon finding it empty, hanging onto his every word. Flicking their hair and fluttering their lashes at him, keen on proving themselves to be competent by sticking their noses into the profile.

"That's hardly true," he contradicts, shaking his head, the color in his cheeks having creeped down his neck.

You chuckle at that. "Maybe you're not as good of a profiler as you think you are."

He glares at you, however the lightheartedness remains in his eyes so you know you're in the clear for your jab.

"Anyways, all I'm saying is, whenever you decide to get back on that proverbial horse, I think you won't find a shortage of options," you tell him kindly. After all, Hotch worked harder than any of you. He deserved to find happiness again.

He rolls his eyes at your statement ever so slightly. His right hand was a much less complicated and demanding lover for the time being - he was making do just fine.

"So, on to the next for you then?" he asks, attempting to divert attention back to you and your existent dating life rather than him and his non-existent one.

You shake your head, a humorless smile appearing on your face as you start to feel just slightly light headed from the alcohol. Maybe accepting random pain killers from Emily hadn't been quite the right move. "Nah," you mumble into your drink. "Cedric can stay, if only because I don't have an actual good reason to end it yet. Besides him, the other two on the back burner are quickly losing what little appeal they held to begin with. I might actually take a break."

Hotch smiles as if he doesn't quite believe you're capable of actually taking a break. Your reputation for never being without a date far preceded you.

Truth be told, at first it was simply easier to always be dating someone in the aftermath of the John wreckage. If you could constantly keep yourself occupied and distracted in that area, while you actually gave turning straight a fair shot, then maybe you'd make it through instead of going crawling back to his bed. Maybe you'd stop seeing his broken face when you told him you couldn't be with him. Maybe the memory of leaving him standing alone in front of that tattoo parlor in the Village wouldn't cause your heart to ache and rebel against your own actions. Maybe. Just maybe.

Now, the pain of Julian's death and the subsequent fallout with your family was merely hurtful when you chose to think of it or were reminded of it inadvertently It was no longer ever present. That seemed like progress. Like somehow despite everything - the pain and torture you'd inflicted upon both you and John had somehow been worth it if it meant you could go to sleep without thinking of Julian. Wake up without your father's face looming ever present in your mind.

You and Hotch look up when you see the rest of the team approaching the table one by one as the night drew to a close. It was last call and about time to head home so you could all have a hope of making an appearance at the office the next day.

"You want a ride home?" Hotch asks you, noticing your slight struggle to get out of the booth.

"It's totally out of your way," you protest, yanking your coat on and fishing for your keys in your pocket.

"I insist, come on. You can't drive properly with that sprain right now. He walks towards you and placing his hand at your lower back, guides you out of the bar behind the rest of the team. "Your car should be fine and we can grab it in the morning."

You know he's right, so you allow yourself to lean against him ever so much more, letting him help you out to his car. Hotch helps you in and closes the door behind you, before walking around to the driver's side. You take control of the music, plugging in your phone, intent on introducing him to more modern music. The two of you made it through seven Top 50 songs on the drive to your place, Hotch complaining throughout and not finding anything redeemable in any of the songs you'd chosen.

Aaron looked over at you as he neared your house, your head moving along to the music and your fingers dancing across your thighs to the tune, a large grin plastered on your voice as you tried to convince him that this this one he surely had to enjoy. He actually didn't mind most of the music you picked out to introduce him to - you didn't just pick anything, you always did your best to pick something you thought he'd truly enjoy. However, he worried that if he started to openly like any of them, you might stop trying so hard.

He pulled into your driveway and walked around to help you out of the car, lending you a hand along the path and up the steps to your door. He stands on the lower step as you unlock the door, before you turn around to tell him goodbye. When you turn, you're almost at his height due to the different steps you two are stood upon and you're not quite sure what compels you, but you reach for him and lean in to a hug, tucking your head onto his shoulder. If he's surprised he doesn't react as such, wrapping his arms around you as well briefly.

"Thanks Hotch."

"I'll pick you up at 8:30AM tomorrow. Is that alright?"

"Sounds good. I'll be the one standing right here, holding the cups of coffee."

He smiles, rolling his eyes just slightly, before turning around and walking away.

*------------*

He first becomes aware of only pain. A piercing, stabbing pain that he can feel everywhere, centered around the abdominal area. He can't move, everything feels heavy. Opening his eyes is a struggle and he manages to only open his eyes a fraction, before being forced to close them tight again. It was bright. White and too bright for his sensitive eyes.

He's slowly starting to realize where he is - becoming increasingly aware of the pain and the bandages, the needle connecting an I.V. to his arm - he's in a hospital. He tries to remember what happened - he'd dropped you off, waited until you made it inside and waved him off, before leaving. He'd gotten back to his apartment. It had been quiet. Eerily quiet. Then Foyet was there. After that all he recalls is pain and Foyet's voice - over and over and over.

Do I seem impotent now?

You should've made the deal.

This will never be over.

Aaron finds it too difficult to keep his eyes open and closes them once again, slipping under.

The next time he wakes, a technician was present and the girl quickly hurried out when she noticed him move.

Once the nurses became aware that he was conscious, it had been a flurry of activity - doctors and technicians in and out to ensure he was alright and to up the pain medication. Some talk about internal bleeding and nine stab wounds to which he'd simply nodded along. He tried to ask for Dave - someone who could make sense of all of this. They told him no visitors yet, but that family had been informed.

Once Dave enters, that's when he finds out everything. Foyet had dumped him outside the hospital. After he hadn't shown up to pick you up that morning, you'd raised the alarm and Garcia had tracked him down. Nothing was missing from his apartment from what they could tell, despite the mess. The only thing left out was his address book. Dave had it with him and Aaron looks through it, going immediately to the one page that mattered. It wasn't there.

Haley Brooks.

Rossi had sent you to go get Haley since the Marshalls were getting ready for her. You'd left Jack with JJ, assuring him that you'd be right back. He'd already seen his father and you'd watched from a distance as Hotch had adjusted to sit up, insistent on not letting his son see him as anything but alright, even in the context of a hospital bed. Haley had been with them and you watched as her eyes flitted from Hotch to Jack - fear for her son and what he might have to go through, due to his father's job, her main concern. She was worried for Hotch too, of course. She must be. However, their initial interaction that you'd witnessed hadn't been quite how you'd expect a wife to react to her husband being in a hospital. Though, you suppose, she wasn't really his wife anymore. Not that it mattered to him - you're pretty sure in his eyes, she might as well still be.

You approach, and you can hear Hotch and Haley in conversation about what's going to happen next. Foyet had taken only the page in his address book with her name on it, so his intentions were perfectly clear. Haley and Jack were being targeted by a serial killer. That meant they needed to be protected, and you knew that Hotch would have to break it to her.

"Do you know where they're taking us?" Haley asks. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice. You wait outside, trying not to eavesdrop but it was impossible not to overhear.

"No I don't. And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

"Jack has school, Aaron. He has friends. I have a job now." Her voice is accusing and you want to tell her that none of that matters right now. The only thing that matters is the two of them being safe.

"I know. And I'm sorry. We will catch him. And you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you." Hotch's voice comes out low and you can hear the anguish caught in his throat as he speaks to the mother of his child - telling her to take their son and go. Breaking his own heart in the process by keeping Jack away from him. Knowing that that is exactly what Foyet wants. Wants him to suffer.

"Are you sure that we're in danger?" she asks, her voice suggesting that maybe he was overreacting. You feel a surge of anger course through you at that. For her to even suggest that he was overreacting when he was laid up in a hospital bed with multiple stab wounds was simply…you didn't have the words. He wouldn't make her go through this over nothing!

"Yes."

You decide to intervene then. Before she can question it further and agitate him more. He needed to rest. You knock quickly, alerting them both to your presence. "Haley, the Marshalls are ready for you."

She nods and grabs Hotch's hand. You avert your eyes to give them their privacy as Hotch tells her to be brave and strong. He'll see her and Jack after she's met with them.

Haley walks towards you and you point her to the tall female agent standing at the end of the ICU doors, wearing non-descript clothing in order to not garner too much attention. She nods and looks at you, and you see a hint of something pass through her eyes, like she wants to speak, but then seems to think better of it and walks towards the direction you'd pointed her in.

You watch her go, before turning to Hotch. His eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner, and then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. You hesitate for a second, before walking in. Your presence wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, you hope, so you walk towards the bed and take a seat in the chair to his left, waiting until he decides to look at you.

"How're you feeling?" His face is turned towards you as though he's partially surprised you're even there at all. You wonder if he would've preferred you have left him alone instead.

"They're got me some pretty strong meds," he tells you, indicating towards the I.V. drip connected to his arm.

You lean over and read the chart hanging from the side of the bed, eyes glancing over it. "They got you on all of the good stuff - Hydromorphone will get the job done for sure." You try to smile but you know it won't reach your eyes right now.

"How long did it take you to sound the alarm?"

You shift, tilting the chair to look at him better, your teeth worrying your bottom lip and eyes narrowed, trying to work out why he'd ask that. The smell of a hospital was starting to get to you a bit - that odd smell that feels like despair and cleaning supplies. "Ten minutes. At 8:35, I called your cell and you didn't pick up. I called again at 8:36 and 8:37 and 8:38. At 8:39 I told myself I was acting crazy and that the weird feeling I had wasn't anything really. I just needed some breakfast. At 8:40, I called Penelope and had her track you down." You remembered the ten minutes of pure panic you'd gone through when he hadn't been outside at exactly 8:30AM. With anyone else, it wouldn't be a cause for concern. With Hotch, you'd expected him to be there at 8:25AM and so you'd been ready to go by 8:15AM with a travel mug of coffee for the both of you in each hand. He also always texted you when he left his place to come to yours and you hadn't gotten an ETA text that morning. Maybe that's what had originally put you on edge.

He looks at you, an odd look on his face at your explanation as if he's trying to decide what to make of it - the entirely detailed and rambling explanation he got from you, likely catching him off guard a bit. Great, he thinks I'm insane.

A small smile makes its way to his face however, and you're glad he's still capable of that, despite everything. You haven't yet looked down at his bandages. Foyet had stabbed him nine times. You'd seen the notes that Rossi had taken - what Foyet had said to Hotch as he stabbed him. Talking about how Hotch has profiled him as being impotent. The mere act of stabbing Hotch while taunting him with that particular piece of the profile -it filled your stomach with churning acid. It was the closest to sexual assault that Foyet could inflict upon Hotch and you're trying hard not to think about the emotional and mental ramifications of it all for him. The physical was one thing - that's something that people can move past with time. The violation of one's home and one's body however - the toll that takes on ones being and sense of self - that's much more difficult to bury.

Just to even think that he was exaggerating - you're mad all over again at Haley. You shouldn't be. You know that isn't fair at all. She was having her whole life upended. And yet…he was the one in a hospital bed and you're having a hard time recalling her seeming at all concerned for him. She must've been, of course. But…he didn't deserve to be made to feel like shit because of it. It wasn't his fault. Knowing him, he really would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

You avert your eyes to stare at the wheels at the bottom of the bed. They'd wheeled him, unconscious, past you when you'd first arrived at the hospital, not bothering to go into the office and instead arriving straight from your place via a cab. You'd been the first one there, having Garcia call the rest of the team. You'd called Rossi so that he could be the one to call Haley. He'd known her longer. You'd limped your way into the ICU, bypassing every single security check with a flash of your badge.

Pointless really. They wouldn't let you see him. Family first. You had to wait for Haley and Rossi to arrive - they were his emergency contacts. You briefly wondered if that was because he'd never bothered to update it after the divorce or if that was truly still the case - if she would be the person he'd want to have during an emergency.

"Can I say something?" Your voice comes out small and hesitant. He hadn't said anything in the wake of your explanation earlier.

He nods, looking at you curiously.

You wet your lips, clearing your throat a bit and sitting up straighter. It's not your place, and yet.. someone should say it. Someone should tell him.

"Sometimes, when we love people, we allow them to hurt us. We allow them to ignore our pain in favor of elevating their own. We allow them to bypass our feelings and our needs because we believe we aren't as worthy of having what we need acknowledged. I get why, of course. Especially right now, but.." You trail off, not knowing how to finish what you'd started in a way that didn't complete overstep the boundaries that you'd already crossed. He'd know you had heard. He didn't need to know that right now, you didn't exactly love his ex wife. You liked her just fine. But right then, you didn't appreciate how she'd treated him.

Hotch looks at you, breath caught by your words. He hadn't realized you'd overheard the conversation between him and Haley. There could be no other reason for you to be saying all of that. You'd said it all softly, hesitantly, knowing you were crossing some sort of line and yet you'd still said it because you felt he needed to hear it. We love.. We allow… We believe… You were speaking from some amount of personal experience. Your first question to him had been about how he was doing - unlike both Rossi and Prentiss who had asked him what happened. He's not sure why the distinction matters, yet it does.

Haley was right too, however. He can't be upset with her. This was all his fault. He hadn't made a deal with Foyet and now his family - his son - their lives were being upended. Haley had already put up with a lot during their marriage. The divorce should've meant that she no longer had to bear the consequences of his job. He can't help but feel guilty for that - for putting her in this situation. Especially when he's so overtly aware that he could've kept it from happening.

He watches as you sit in that chair, eyeing him apprehensively, chewing on your bottom lip. You care. He can tell you care. You care so overwhelmingly that it's hard to deny it. Sometimes he wishes you didn't. It would make things a lot easier on him if he could think that he felt something for someone that didn't even think about him - that he never crossed your mind even. However, there's far too much proof to the contrary. So instead he has to live with knowing that you care about him, that you think of him, that you likely - in some capacity - love him. The way one might love a friend or a mentor. Somehow that's worse because he has to then deal with you saying stuff like this. Things that make it seem like only you care.

He doesn't know what to say and he can feel tears forming that he's quick to blink away, hoping you hadn't noticed. He swallows and just nods, not trusting himself to say much of anything that didn't involve asking you to stay - possibly forever, because for the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital, he feels seen.

You try to smile and change the subject, fill him in on the Marshalls' plan with Haley and Jack. Offer to get him ice chips or some food that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria. He notices how at ease you seem in the hospital, and comes to the conclusion that maybe a family member had spent some time in one. You seem to know which nurses to talk to in order to get whatever you needed. You watch like a hawk when they come to do anything with his medications. He's pretty certain you would've slept there overnight had Rossi not asked you to help Morgan with something on the ongoing case.

He misses you as soon as you leave.

*------------*

You catch Jack and Haley on your way out. You know you won't be seeing Jack for a while. The Marshalls would be taking them today. Everything was going to change for them.

You nod at Agent Montgomery - the U.S. Marshall that's going to be on their case for the time being. She shifts, moving to the doorway to give you guys a moment.

Haley is seated at the table, her hands holding onto some paperwork. She meets your eyes briefly and nods before returning to the documents. There's a pen in her hands and you can't help but note that her fingers shake around it a bit.

Jack is seated at another table nearby, Agent Montgomery having cleared the breakroom for their meeting.

"Hey buddy." You kneel down to where Jack has been sitting, coloring a printout that one of the nurses must've provided. Jack turns to you, showing off his work. "That looks amazing, Jack!"

He beams with pride at your praise. "Thanks, Y/N."

"I have to head out, okay. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

Jack gets up and hugs you, wrapping his little pudgy arms tightly around your neck, allowing you to sweep him up entirely. You know this is the last time you'll get to hold him for quite a while, so you allow it to linger, hugging him back tight. "I love you, Jack." Whispered into his ear while you blink back tears.

You release him and stand, making sure he's settled back into his activity and occupied, before turning to Haley. She stands, walks with you a small distance away from Jack. It isn't fair, what's happening to her. You don't really hold anything against her. It's awful, entirely awful what's happening - her whole life was about to be uprooted because of your jobs. Because of all of your collective failure to catch Foyet the first time. It was your mistake and her and Jack were going to pay for it.

You look up at her and you can see how entirely scared she is of what's about to happen. To have to do this on your own was one thing. Doing it with a partner, another. To have to do it all alone while supporting a child - she wouldn't have anyone she knew to rely upon. All by herself and unable to trust anyone.

"We're going to find him. We're gonna catch him. I promise." You know words were of little solace but that's all you have to give right then.

She smiles, a watery smile to match the unshed tears in her eyes. There's a shaky nod before she moves forward, hugging you in much the same manner Jack had. She's a bit taller than you, so you try to stand straight, allowing her to lean against you. "Take care of him." Her voice is a whisper against your ear, as though she's entrusting you with something extremely precious. Which she is, you suppose. She's counting on you to make sure that Hotch would be alright. That Jack's father would be fine, awaiting his son's return.

"I will."

*------------*

It had been a week since Foyet had left Hotch outside the hospital. A week since Haley and Jack had been taken into WITSEC protective custody and given new identities in an unknown location. A week since Morgan had become the new acting Unit Chief of the BAU, taking over in Hotch's stead. To the public - to the outside world - and especially to Foyet, it had to seem like his attack on Hotch had left him completely alone and broken - no wife, no kid, no team to lead.

You hated it.

The team had been assigned a new case late Sunday evening after you'd all pretty much spent the past couple of days in the hospital. Hotch was discharged earlier in the day and was under strict orders to stay on bedrest for the time being. You'd all flown out early Monday morning and it was now Saturday evening, the case having stretched out the entire week due to the Unsub's kill schedule.

You got back home after submitting your report, grabbing a water and a pack of the little bunny crackers you keep on hand for Jack. You're pretty sure you won't be seeing Jack before those expire and someone should eat them. You shower and get dressed for bed, thinking about Hotch. You knew he was home and would be coming back to work next week, doing the absolute bare minimum bed rest that the doctor had mandated. You're fairly certain the doctor had been intimidated into it by Hotch's severe face, daring him to say anything longer than a week.

It's fairly late by the time you actually crawl into bed, plugging your phone into the charger by the nightstand and flickering off the lights, plunging the room into darkness save for the red glow of the alarm clock stating that it was now eleven o'clock. You wonder if anyone has checked in on him while the team has been away. Perhaps Jess, but she must also be out of her mind with worry about Haley and Jack.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you've grabbed your phone and scrolled to his name in your Favorites, pressing on it. You hold the phone up to your ear and listen as it rings, once, twice, thrice, until you hear the sound of it being picked up.

"Hotchner." His voice is low but doesn't sound sleepy, so you're at least confident that you hadn't woken him up. Having nothing to do but lay around must be messing with his carefully regulated sleep schedule.

You suppress a laugh at his formal no-nonsense greeting, even though he undoubtedly knows it's you. "Hey." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

"Is everything alright?" There's a slight edge evident in his voice and you realize that maybe calling him at eleven at night when his wife - ex-wife - and kid are being kept away safe wasn't exactly the right move.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's alright. I'm sorry. I just called to check in. How are you?"

There's a pause where you can hear the ambient sounds of your house settling in along with him shifting - the rustling of a bedsheet and the groan of the frame as he moves to adjust himself. So he had been in bed when you called.

Finally, you hear, "I'm alright. Thank you for dropping off the food."

"Yeah, yeah of course," you respond, your heartbeat picking up a bit for some reason. You figure it's because you're unsure of the call itself still and knowing that Hotch was in bed and you'd likely disturbed him in some sense at least, makes you feel a little uneasy.

For his part, Aaron had been going stircrazy, sitting at home with nothing whatsoever to do. The Marshalls had taken Haley and Jack the very same day. Dave had taken him from the hospital and back to his apartment and Garcia and JJ had dropped by the same day with some groceries and a couple of ready to eat meals for him.

He spent most of Sunday sleeping, the strong painkillers making him drowsy. Monday morning, he awoke to his doorbell and his nurse, Eric, from the hospital was there to help him with the dressage. He didn't think that was covered by his insurance - he could only imagine how much home visits from a medical professional cost - and had told Eric there was some sort of mistake. However, Eric had insisted that someone at the hospital had already worked it out and insurance wasn't an issue - this was a covered service apparently. Since Aaron already knew him, and he really could use the help, he'd let him in. Eric had entered holding a large box of food as well, that he said had been left at the door along with a note. After Eric left, Aaron had opened the box to reveal pre-portioned meals - all homemade, all different, all things he could throw in a microwave easily. The note was just signed with your name, telling him to call if he needed anything else.

He'd slept through most of the days, awakening only to let Eric in daily. He ate only because he had to in order to take his medications. Otherwise his mind was a haze of thoughts and worries - worrying about Jack and Haley, about Foyet being around the next corner, about the team managing without him, and somewhere at the farthest reaches of his mind your face danced around - worried and concerned for him, despite doing your very best to appear otherwise.

When your name flashed across his phone late at night, at first he felt the thrust of panic - that something had happened. And then there's your voice, calm and even, asking him how he's doing. No one else had called him. Dave and Prentiss had texted once or twice over the week, but with a case going on, everyone had been busy.

There's a brush of silence after he thanks you for the food and he can hear you take a breath and shift ever so much. He realizes that you're calling him while most likely lying in bed. It causes his heart to speed up and a tight coil to begin tightening in his stomach. It's utterly benign - he has no reason to feel that way, and yet, yet he does.

"How was the case?" he asks, desperate for someone to speak with, not wanting the phone call to end.

You're slightly surprised but you easily talk him through the details of the case, the profiling process and how the team had approached it. You find yourself babbling on for a while as he asks you questions about the evidence, how the local detectives had been, how the team was doing.

Aaron listens to you, taking it all in. You're good at this, providing all the details you know he'd want. You notice everything, all the little things. How the local detectives had responded to Morgan being in charge - how it had been easier for JJ to liaise with them more closely instead. How Reid was getting much more comfortable with having a weapon in the field. There's a soft, sleepy quality to you despite your obvious willingness to tell him everything. Your voice like a salve, doing more for him than any of the medications the doctors had prescribed.

He's not sure when or how, but the conversation has meandered from the case to something Prentiss had told you once, to a story he had of Dave and Gideon back when he first joined the team, and then to a professor of yours from college who had been particularly invested in the Bundy trials in a near obsessive manner. He finds himself laughing for the first time since that night at the bar with you.

When his eyes next catch the time, it is past 2AM. You'd been on the phone for the past three hours. Before this, the longest phone call he's ever had was fifteen minutes.

"It's late," he whispers, almost as though he doesn't want you hear him. "You should get some sleep."

You glance at your clock and find yourself shocked at how long the two of you had been on the phone together. Who knew Hotch was even capable. Though, you figure, you'd been doing the bulk of the talking, rambling on about something or the other. He must be utterly exhausted of listening to your voice.

"You should too," you murmur through a yawn, your eyes flickering under the weight of your lashes.

"Good night, Y/N." You can hear a smile in his voice and it's almost as though you can feel him - the way he feels when he hugs you, warm and strong, firm against you, surrounding you completely with his being.

"Night Hotch."

*------------*

Hotch had been back a couple of weeks and the team was adjusting. While Morgan was indeed the public face of the team, Hotch was very still involved and working far too much behind the scenes. You've kept an eye on him, looking for signs of him overexerting himself. He is, of course. He's burying himself in work, diving in head first because that's likely easier than focusing on everything else. So far, all you've done is give him looks that say Shouldn't you be going home? and Is this really what you want to spend a Wednesday at 9PM doing? He doesn't acknowledge them openly but you know that he knows that you see exactly what he's trying to do. He'll leave once he realizes that you're staying if he is.

You're not quite sure how to check on him during the weekends. Before, you used to have Jack as the reason why you saw him. Now, without Jack, you're not quite sure how to go about seeing Hotch and making sure he's alright, without it somehow being seen as overstepping. You nudge Rossi to go check on him one of the days and then another, you invited the entire team over for dinner so that you know he ate. You know he won't let you cook for him if he's no longer on bedrest, even though the way he holds his gun and the sharp inhale he takes anytime he has to put the Kevlar on is extremely telling.

JJ wants everyone in the conference room on the other side of the floor since your regular one is taken and she calls you to inform everyone of the change in venue for the scheduled meeting. You glance up from your desk after having told Derek and Emily of the location change, trusting them to tell Spencer when he returns. JJ isn't expecting everyone for another half hour, and Emily had caught Rossi as he was heading out to lunch, so he's also aware. Emily and Derek follow in his steps, asking if you're going to join them, but you wave them on ahead.

You take the steps up to Hotch's office swiftly, knocking and turning the knob in one motion, only to find him standing behind his desk, no jacket or tie, shirt unbuttoned, a patch of red visible on his skin from one of the stab wounds inflicted by Foyet. He looks up at you and you can feel the surprise in his eyes. It was your fault, you should've waited. That was stupid. Your eyes can't seem to look away from the blood spotting the otherwise white wrappings that sit in a pile on the desk.

"I - I'm sorry," you stutter out, blinking and trying to make sense of the sight in front of you. You notice that his shirt was also equally marred, the blood having seeped through. You'd obviously interrupted him.

He draws a breath, and you can see him try to put on a mask of being unbothered by your sudden appearance. "Did you need something?"

'Um, JJ had to move the briefing to the other conference room," you inform him, still unable to look away. You're staring. You know are. It's dawning upon you how entirely you'd fucked up. Hotch was such a private person. He'd hate having someone see him in such a state of vulnerability.

He nods. "Thank you. Could you close the door, please?"

You don't move from your spot in the doorway.

"Y/N?"

You're not sure what exactly has overcome you, except this overwhelming need to take care of him. Especially now, right then when he's hurting. Bleeding quite literally. Hotch takes care of everyone. Every single one of you. But no one takes care of him. Not the way he needs to be cared for.

You cross the threshold, shutting and locking the door behind you. He seems entirely taken aback as you approach him silently. There's a voice in your head telling you that this, right here, this was the definition of overstepping. Yet, there is a more insistent compulsion residing within you, urging you forward until you've reached him. He looks at you, confusion in his features.

"Let me." You reach for the alcohol wipes on the table, meant to disinfect the affected region.

He doesn't say anything, but he also doesn't move, making it difficult for you to actually reach him as he's standing flush to his desk. He only looks at you, brows scrunched together, the pronounced cleft of his lower lip set tightly.

"Let me." You repeat yourself, moving forward and forcing him to back up a little and make room for you. You deftly move to sit on his desk, facing him, and beckon him towards you without looking up. If you looked up, you might lose your nerve.

You part your legs and much to your surprise, he actually moves forward, coming to settle between them. You can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You're suddenly very aware of the friction between his dress pants and the material of your own fitted ones.

You take the alcohol wipe and tear open the packaging, unraveling the cloth before cautiously moving towards him and dabbing at the area that seemed to have opened up slightly. He releases a sharp hiss and suddenly, his hand is at your waist, gripping tightly. You pause, looking up at his face. His eyes are shut, lips pressed tightly together. After a second, he nods, indicating at you to continue. He doesn't make a sound again as you clean up the area, though he does tighten his grip ever so slightly a couple more times.

You look at the items on his desk and pick up the jar of salve that he must put on prior to the dressings. Carefully, you unscrew the lid, looking up at him with a question in your eyes. He nods again, barely looking at you.

You try to do it quickly. Fingers picking up some of the salve and gingerly spreading it over the region, brushing past raised skin, puckered up as it heals. Slowly. Not fast enough for him.

Aaron watches as your head is bent, teeth biting down on your lower lip in concentration as you gently span the entirely of his chest and stomach. Soft, dainty fingers quickly working so as to put him out of his misery faster.

Of all people, he didn't want you to see him this way. So vulnerable, so exposed, so scarred. You'd thrown him off balance when you hadn't quickly scampered away after you realized your error in barging in. Approached him with such purpose that he hadn't known how to turn you away.

You reach for the fresh roll of gauze next, swallowing as you look up at him once again. "This would be easier if you take the shirt off."

He shrugs it off at your words, placing it on the back of his chair. There's a fresh shirt on the seat of his chair. He'd been prepared, it would seem.

"This might put a dent in the line of women waiting to pounce." He indicates towards his chest, self deprecation dripping from his weak attempt at humor, in an effort to cut whatever imaginary tension he had made up in his head.

You look at his face, seeing the vulnerability and insecurity as plain as can be. He doesn't need to verbalize his thoughts in order for you to know exactly what he's thinking. What he's been thinking.

Who would want someone this grotesque?

Who would want a man as broken as this?

Who could possibly bear the sight of him - marred forever? His very flesh a perpetual reminder of the terror he wades through, the monsters he encounters, the horror that is his life.

"No."

Your answer is simple, straightforward. Yet nothing has ever confused him more as he watches you hold one end of the gauze to the front of his chest near the top of the scarring, and then bring the roll around his back, over it to hold it in place, your small hands ghosting over his skin with the utmost propriety, intent in making this as painless, as easy, as comfortable for him as possible.

"I'm not going to tell you some patronizing bullshit about scars being beautiful."

You control your breath in easy measured paces, forcing him to follow along. One breath in. Pause. Breath out. Repeat. You continue to wrap the dressing around his chest slowly, your eyes fixed on the task at hand to ensure that it was all straight and even, tight but not too tight.

"They do, however, speak to all that you've endured. All that you've conquered. Overcome. Anyone who loves you will see you just as you are. They would think you absolutely incredible. Regardless of anything. Because of it all."

Aaron focuses on your voice, soft and melodic and yet sure. So very sure. How could you possibly be so sure?

"Someone who loves you will see the scars," your fingers press ever so slightly against his chest, "and they will know. They will know all that you've undergone to become who are - how you survived despite the odds."

You take a sudden shuddered breath as you recall the sight of him unconscious in the hospital bed, being wheeled past you. You're quick to shake it away.

"They will be grateful. To have you, scars and all."

You finish, tucking in the end of the gauze firmly and ensuring it wouldn't come loose with just the slightest of motions.

You look up at him then, finally meeting his eyes properly. Beautiful, deep brown eyes with flecks of gold brought on by the late afternoon sunlight that was filtering through the windows.

Aaron can't help but look at you. He rarely gets to see you this up close. So very close. If he were to just bend down the smallest amount, there'd be no space at all. Your hair bundled back into a professional low bun, soft wisps framing your face. The cupid's bow lips - pouty, pink, perfect lips. The upturned nose and the slight babyface cheeks that accompanied it. He realizes his hand is still gripped onto your waist and he's reluctant to remove it. Not yet. In a bit. Not yet.

"Thank you." His eyes are closed as he says it so he misses it when you nod your acknowledgement.

You lean past him, one hand grabbing his forearm for balance while the other reaches for the shirt on the chair. You'd started the job. Might as well finish it. You unbutton the collar and he takes it from you, quickly slipping it on, and yet not moving away. His hand returns to your waist. Staying where you could easily reach up and start buttoning it for him. So you do.

Aaron knows you don't need a response to everything you'd said. He also is quite certain that you believe it. No matter the entirely shallow world you'd been a part of, he knows that you aren't like that. You might be a little vain - the nice clothes and makeup, the care you put into your own appearance. However, you're not vain like this.

Aaron breathes out a deep sigh that he'd been holding for some time as you dexterously work each button into its proper hole. He really could get used to this. To you.

"Why do you always sit on stuff?" His voice is soft and low, calmer.

You glance up, noting the slight humor dancing behind his eyes while he waits for your answer.

You can't help but smile, a breath of laughter escaping you just barely. "I suppose…because I'm short," you admit, shaking your head as you continue down the trail of buttons. "Makes it easier for me to be at eye level if I sit on higher surfaces."

He laughs. A near boisterous laugh. His chest rumbles underneath your hands, causing your fingers to tremble.

You can't help but laugh along with him, releasing a deep held breath as you do.

He would be alright. He would.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader

62 notes · View notes

thoroughlyskeptic · 3 years

Text

Dear nannies/antis,

Logic, let's try logic, since nothing else gets through those thick skulls of yours. What is improbable about the scenarios that the skeptics, as a whole, present?

For the record, the established parameters here are that:

1) Ben is unhappy.

2) This unhappiness began right around the beginning of the PR push for The Imitation Game.

3) His unhappiness has not abated despite achieving his stated goals of marriage and family.

4) No other event or person in his life correlates to that time period in exclusivity except Sophie.

Now the skeptics disagree on the instigating factors of those same parameters. The general consensus among the skeptics is that:

1) Ben's marriage is a sham.

2) He is not happy about being a father, therefore based on his stated goals and desires there is something that he doesn't like about the children.

3) Sophie did many things that are generally discouraged during pregnancy therefore she was not pregnant.

Now the nannies and antis(that's you all) suggest that these things can't possibly happen. That the parameters are false. While it is true that we cannot clearly prove to your satisfaction that Ben is unhappy, you conversely cannot prove to our satisfaction that he is happy. Now, people exist in all spectrums of emotion and can have several at a time so in fact, perhaps we are all right. But assuming that our parameters are true, the instigating factors are the big sticking point.

Logically, many marriages are marriages of convenience. Whether for legal protection, not wanting a child born out-of-wedlock, dynastic reasons in general, and of course there are Lavendar Marriages. Several people have suggested in the past that Ben married and had children to hide the fact he is gay. Although the younger generation has been very vocal in claiming their personal preferences for pronouns, older generations who tend to watch the big budget Oscar bait movies Ben likes to make(TIG, The Courier, That cat movie) tend to prefer their actors straight. It's happening less but there can still be a backlash from someone coming out. I'm not saying that I believe this theory, but it is not something that is unheard of statistically. As far as dynastic reasons, although Ben is not in direct line for any titles dynastic reasons can include the purpose of furthering the family name. There is also the legal protection. Some people get married for the reason of testifying, or rather not testify.

Ben has stated previously that he wanted to become a father. Now, it could happen that someone who had the desire to have children came face to face with the full weight of taking care of a human life and balked. (He saw a loaded diaper and ran screaming, for example.) This is not unheard of in people who were raised as only children or people who have never been around babies. However, seeing that Ben has a niece around the right age to have baby-sat and has small Godchildren he was very close to, I very much doubt this is the case. Now, you can have an unhappy reaction from a parent who has a special needs child but unless all three were also in need of extra help, having another child eliminates some, although not all, of the regret and sorrow that having a child that you may be unable to help can cause. The other explanation that could account for him not being thrilled about being a father, would be doubtful paternity. This is also a fairly common occurrence, more discoverable now with modern DNA tests but it has happened since the beginning of societies.

One theory is that Sophie has faked her pregnancies. This is not out of the realm of possibility. Two separate explanations can apply and both have precedent. One is common in Hollywood circles or models. They hire a surrogate and "fake a pregnancy" so they don't lose their figure, this is known as social surrogacy. If done by IVF it's still their child, so no lying would be involved. A well-known doctor from Hollywood has stated that he has helped many actress and models "fake" a pregnancy in this way. The other possibility is sadder. Women, saddened by the loss of a child or pregnancy, substitute a "New Born"/" Reborn" Doll for their child and treat it exactly the same. Some do have more than one of these "children". Her apparent weight gain could be hysterical pregnancy common in the type of delusional personality that causes one to imagine a doll is a real child. Once she was pictured pregnant the public(i.e. tabloids) would be eager to get a photo of the baby. To maintain this from a public relations standpoint, some sort of explaination would have to be given. Of course reborns and dolls do not age. If the situation is as believed, he would need to explain why there were no children. In his position, it would be easy to hire child actors to play the parts of the children for a photo shoot and tell his wife they were doing a movie shoot or ad. If there was a surrogacy, there would, of course, be children. He may resent having gone through IVF and surrogacy. Many men believe this process emasculates them, that they aren't "real men" because they can't father a child the "natural" way.

As to the health of Sophie when pregnant, the pictures indicate that she was drinking, riding dangerous boats, and traveling to far off locales. All of this is discouraged during the stage of pregnancy she was at. It was not prohibited but as a geriatric pregnancy, she would have been urged to be overly cautious as older mothers are 14 percent more likely to have a spontaneous preterm delivery and 31 percent more likely to have early deliveries because of labor induction, cesarean births or other interventions. The National Women's Health Network now prefers the term Advanced Maternal Age. (And yes your mother was Methuselah, and gave birth to you at a 104, nannies. Outliers do not determine the statistical norms.)

Now are all the things that skeptics have said illogical? Not all of them. Do we have sound logical reasons for the basis of our skepticism? Yes. We didn't just randomly decide one day that Sophie looked like the kind of person who would fake pregnancy. It's not like she hasn't faked a pregnancy for attention before. People that fake things for attention tend to feel they have not gotten enough attention and try bigger and bigger stunts to get attention. They escalate. That's not from any book. That's from personal experience. The only way to deal with them in general is to ignore them. If that is not strictly followed, they will escalate until someone gets hurt.

This of course is where nannies/antis see threats, when skeptics aren't making them. Saying that destructive behavior leads to destruction is not a threat, its logical.

Now logically I know that I'm either preaching to the choir or to those who aren't really going to change their mind. That's not the reason for this exercise. The point, my dears, is to lay out a logical reason for what the skeptics believe, even if it doesn't change anyone else's mind in anyway.

12 notes · View notes

jihyuncompass · 4 years

Note

Hello... May I do a platonic request of the RFA+V+Saeran with a teen!Mc on their routes?

This ended up being quite a bit longer than I had planned originally but hey more to enjoy right?

Zen

Zen would of course obviously be concerned.

He’s a sweet guy! He’s a protective guy!

He was a teen runaway, he knows what the streets are like. They’re no place for someone young and on their own.

So as soon as he learns your age, Zen’s protective nature kicks in.

Congratulations! Zen is your older brother now. No one is ever going to hurt you again. Also no you don’t really have a say in the matter.

When the whole Echo Girl scandal hits, he’s very careful around you. He cares about you, and the last thing he wants is for you to be dragged into this mess with him. The worst thing he imagines is the press finding out about you. Possibly accusing him of harming you or taking advantage of you in some way.

He would never hurt you, and he doesn’t want anyone getting any ideas. To him, you’re his younger sibling and he’ll do everything to protect you.

And unfortunately, for a little while that means keeping you at a small bit of a distance. Although considering its Zen. It’s not too much of a distance.

Soon things with Echo Girl start to calm down, but then. There’s the bomb, and Unknown.

The moment he comes into that apartment, sees you, a child. And Unknown trying to take you away. Zen knows that he has to get you to safety. He doesn’t even think when he grabs you and starts running, all he knows is you’re safe with him, and he won’t let this guy take you away and hurt you.

That protective older brother nature only becomes more intense once you’re at his apartment. He’s checking up on you constantly. Are you hurt? Are you scared? But he’ll also reassure you, you’re safe with him. That guy isn’t coming back. It’s okay.

He takes you back to his apartment. Where he can properly watch over you. Make sure that the hacker can’t get to you again. Can’t try and take you away to god only knows where.

After his route ends he still cares for you. Through this experience it’s only cemented that you’re family to him. And unlike his own family, he’s gonna stick with you and support you no matter what.

Yoosung

When you meet Yoosung he’s still in the midst of his grief over Rika.

Her death left a huge impact on him. After all he did look up to her so much. She was his role model, his hero. And well now she was gone.

Your arrival however marks a turning point in his life. Not only are you the newest member of the RFA but you’re also just a kid too.

He’s actually pretty excited that you’re younger than him. It’s nice not being the youngest member of RFA anymore.

It doesn’t take a super long time for Yoosung to take you under his wing. He remembers what it was like being a teenager, it’s not like it was all that long ago.

Also he just thinks you’re really cool! You try and stop Seven from pranking him too much and you like to talk to him about video games! What could be better?

In a way, he starts treating you the same way Rika treated him when he was younger. As a role model, as someone to look up to. Instead of seeing Rika in you, he starts to see Rika in himself. He did always want to be like her anyways. Have that sort of influence on people. Just like she did on him.

You start to notice his habits changing. He starts gaming less and studying more. If he wants to be a good role model then he has to act the part right?

Like with Zen. When he learns about the bomb in the apartment he’s instantly concerned and angry. The anger he felt towards V during his route was intense, but this is much much worse. Because not only is there a bomb in the apartment, there’s a kid, in the apartment with the bomb.

This gives him all the more reason to go to Mint Eye and face the hacker. As long as the hacker is active, you’re not safe. And to him, your safety is the most important thing.

He’s hesitant to let you see his eye injured. He doesn’t want to scare you. Or worry you. He needs to seem like a good role model.

But you don’t care about that stuff, you just want him to be okay. That is all that matters to you.

After his route ends he of course stays close with you. How could he not after everything that happened? Yoosung will always be a good friend to you. Especially once he graduates University, he truly becomes someone you want to admire.

Jaehee

Jaehee is absolutely concerned when he learns of your age.

She’s friendly towards you, of course he is. She’ll probably be less suspicious of you than she normally would be. However in exchange she’s also very hesitant around you.

However with time she’ll warm up to you a lot. In a lot of ways she’s like your cool put-together older sister you can talk to.

There’s a lot of bonding over Zen’s musicals. She’s more than happy to educate you on everything there is to do with Zen’s career. You’re like her little fandom protegee.

During her route she may see a lot of her younger self in you. She’s forced to think a lot on her own past and how she ended up where she is now.

Looking at you she imagines her past going differently, her life turning out a different way. What else could she have been doing now? If life had been a little different.

Jaehee’s the kind of person who will happily hear you talk about what you’re passionate about. She had to give up a lot of her own dreams in order to be successful, but she wants you to be able to follow your own passions.

Knowing you, and thinking about herself as a teenager really helps embolden her. She realizes that she should be trying to follow her passions. Not just survive.

At the RFA party she thanks you sincerely for everything you’ve done for her. For inspiring her, for helping her gain courage.

He also promises to help you achieve your own dreams. Being the person she needed when she was young.

She’ll still open her cafe, however she’ll promise that once you’re old enough, and ready you’ll always be welcome to work and help her run things.

Jahee’s never had a sibling, and it’s been years since she’s had a significant familial relationship with anyone. But together, you’re like a little family. Someone who helped her find a new path in life. And for that she is eternally grateful.

Jumin

Jumin is very taken aback when he learns of your age.

Jumin is tricky because I don’t think he’d talk down to you because of your age, but he definitely isn’t going to pretend that you’re an adult.

Regardless of age, the way into Jumin’s heart is through his cat. If you show genuine heartfelt interest in Elizabeth the 3rd. He’s going to like you.

Another way is through cracking jokes with him. Jumin is so funny, but his humor tends to go over most people’s heads. Laugh at his jokes, and it doesn’t matter your age Jumin’s going to appreciate talking to you.

At first, you’re probably going to be a little intimidated by Jumin. Not only is he an adult but he’s also Jumin Han he’s smart, he’s powerful, he’s rich.

However after a while you start to feel comfortable with him. He doesn’t seem to scary or powerful as he did at first. (Although every once in a while he might say something that reminds you he is the Jumin Han).

It doesn’t take very long for Jumin to grow a sort of attachment to you. You always seem to know what to say to him. Which is something the RFA notices very quickly about the two of you.

So when things in Jumin’s life get complicated Having you be the one to go see him almost feel obvious.

That feeling of being intimidated definitely returns when you go to the Penthouse. It’s so large and fancy, and extremely overwhelming the first time.

Once you see him though, and start talking with him it becomes easier. It gets more natural, like it is in the chatroom.

When Elizabeth runs away he becomes incredibly protective over you. You’re a child after all, and what if you get hurt? What if someone tries and hurts you? He couldn't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

Similarly to how his route goes normally. You have to convince him that you can take care of yourself, and keeping the things he loves all locked up isn’t going to help anything.

You have to encourage him to not view you just as a child. But someone who is capable and can take care of them self. It might take a while, but eventually Jumin will come to understand.

Obviously he’s not going to propose to you at the party. But he makes it clear that he considers you apart of his family, and if you would let him. He wants to be part of yours too, and having any bond with Jumin Han means that he’ll always be there for you, looking out for you always.

Seven/Saeyoung

He’s aware of your age right from the very start. Once he does his background check he knows EXACTLY how old you are.

To him this is just another reason you shouldn’t get to involved with him. You’re a kid and he’s a messy with a lot of messy stuff in his life. And the last thing he wants is you getting caught up in his messy life.

Still he likes joking around with you. He doesn’t prank you the way he does Yoosung but he loves cracking jokes with you. It’s the kind of humor and validation that he adores.

During his route, it’s complicated trying to get through to him.

Seven is dealing with many of the same worries that he does normally. But now there’s this added layer that you’re a kid. You’re a kid trying to make friends with someone very dangerous. While also living in an apartment with a bomb.

It’s... a lot for him to say the least. And as a result it weighs on him heavily. He can’t help but care about you, you’re just a kid who’s been forced into this whole mess.

While he’d never say it out loud to himself he thinks a lot about his brother.

This of course increases tenfold when Seven sees his brother at the apartment. Seeing his brother just proves in his mind that he failed him somehow. That something is very very wrong, and that you shouldn’t be near him.

Like in his route, you have to be patient with him. Empathize with him while also being firm. While I do think he’s less likely to last out as aggressively towards you because of your age. He’s still closed off from you and keeps pushing you away from him.

However, with time his head will start to clear a bit. He’ll realize that pushing you away isn’t going to do any good, you’ve already proved that you aren’t going to just leave him alone.

But also, when he sees you he thinks so much about his brother. The young bright eyes he had when looking up at the sky. He couldn’t protect Saeran, but in his mind he thinks maybe he can protect you.

After his route the two of you obviously stay close. Even past the secret ends. Saeyoung’s life was mostly defined by the family he chose to have. His brother, the RFA, you. And after he has his brother back and you in his life. He feels like his family is complete.

V/Jihyun

V feels so guilty.

You’re a kid. A child. And you’ve been forced into this horrible situation.

He’s so determined to get you out. To get you as far away from Mint Eye, from Rika as possible.

If you thought V was self sacrificing in his normal route it’s even worse here. He’s so scared of you getting hurt, of Rika hurting you or even getting near you.

He does what he can to protect you from Rika and Saeran. Trying to keep you as safe and innocent as he can. He worries about Rika corrupting you, forcing you to believe in her twisted philosophy and methods. Just like what happened with Saeran.

After you manage to escape Mint Eye with Seven’s help you’re helping V in every way you can.

He feels even more guilty, he hates that you need to help him. That you need to be the one protecting him right now.

Getting over the elixir is difficult for him. It’s physically painful and emotionally torturous. However, he’s so very very grateful that you’re there for him through it all. Somehow managing to care for him through it all.

He deeply values your perspective. You see the world so differently than he does. Maybe because of your age or your experiences. You have this resilience that he admires so much. So when you tell him that he could start over his life. Become a new person. It’s somehow easier for him to believe.

Despite his rough condition, V truly grows a sort of connection with you during this time. You’re genuinely kind to him. Even though he knows that he doesn’t deserve the kindness you’re showing him.

At the end of his route he still leaves for two years. He cares about you, he wants to hold onto the bond that you’ve grown together. But he’s also far from the man he wants to be. He wants to be able to protect you, and have a bond with you that is healthy. Balanced.

You keep in contact with him through letters. He loves sending you photos or little souvenirs from where he’s been. It’s a reminder that he’s still thinking of you, And you’re someone still precious to him.

When he returns two yeas later. It’s the happiest you think you’ve ever been. You’re two years older now, more grown up but your bond with V hasn’t gone away.

You’re his friend. Someone who he cares about. To you, he’s a role model, and he’s a good friend. Someone you are very grateful to have in your life.

Saeran

Oh boy. Okay

Like his brother, Ray knew your age, and unfortunately. It’s one of the reasons he chooses you.

You’re young, naive. He doesn’t think you’re going to be able to see through what Mint Eye is really doing. And he’s older than you, so you’ll definitely listen to him then.

He knows he likes being around you right after he meets you in person.

You’re so nice. You treat him with such kindness all the time. Even when he knows he’s lying to you about the nature of what you’re doing.

Even after you discover the truth about the “game” you still seem to trust him. Something he’s grateful for, even if he doesn’t quite understand it.

This is also when the doubts start to set in for him. He’s been told that people will want to hurt and manipulate him. But you don’t seem to want to do that at all? And even without the Elixir you’re a good person.A happy person.

He also thinks about the physical effects of the elixir. The body pains, the headaches. He doesn’t want you to go through that. You’re so young, and even if you maybe stronger than he is who knows what it would do to you.

So, he can’t let that happen.

Now, let’s talk about Suit Saeran for a minute because he’s.... complicated.

He’s scary. He wants to scare you. He wants to prove to you and to himself that you’re weak that he’s stronger than you are.

On the other hand, he won’t be too violent. Deep down he knows that you’re a kid. And no matter how angry he is he’s refuses to hurt you the same way he had been hurt as a child and as an adult.

It’s your kindness that helps bring him back to himself again. Helping to reunite the fragmented parts of his mind. These pieces all with the same goal. To leave Mint Eye and to take you with him.

Saeran has never been able to have a happy family. And while things are complicated. You’re his family now, and he’s going to be the best big brother he can be for you.

After his route, Saeran has a lot of healing to do. He has so many years of hurt to process and to learn to cope with. You yourself have to deal with everything that happened over the course of your time at Mint Eye.

No matter what though. the one thing that the two of you are certain of, is that you’ll always be there for each other. You’re in this together.

98 notes · View notes

thestalkerbunny · 3 years

Photo

Well, this is it, I finally did it. Behold. My Tiefling Druid Marigold’s 8 OTHER BROTHERS. In game I think she has mentioned she has older brothers-but I don’t think she’s fully mentioned she has 8 brothers all together

Most of the brood is only a year or so apart with the exception of Cedar who isn’t 18 quite yet and Rowan who is still a little LAD. I’m not sure where Marigold lands in the order of the brothers yet.

The entire brood is known as ‘The Hateful 8′ locally as all of them strongly dislike the local Druids under their father’s strong influence (as well as usually if there’s a fight in town, one of the Blackcoat boys started it or they’re going to END it.) They all work for their Father’s Sawmill Business as Lumberjacks and take great pride in their work.

And if you think having a clan this large is impossible for just two people to do-as a person whose mother is actually from a family who had 9 brothers and sisters growing up-it is indeed VERY POSSIBLE. And it makes for very crowded family gatherings.

Read more below for a little bit about each brother

Hickory is the oldest; He and Elm look exactly like their father. He's not that outgoing, mainly because as a child he was frequently bullied by other kids his age not just for being one of the only tiefling in town-but because he developed a skin condition called 'Sectorial Vitiligo' that made his skin two very constrasting colors and has expanded over the years. Although he doesn't get bullied about it much anymore-he does tend to try and cover it up as he puts it 'is not a Penny Circus to be gawked at.' Hickory basically does his dad proud by being the model woodsman just like his old man and sharing a strong distaste for Druids like him as well. Hickory wood is used primarily as kindling in curing meats and making Bows.

Elm is Hickory's Twin, younger by a few minutes, although Elm is the one who was the more aggressive and was the one who for most of their childhood chasing away anyone who tried to harass Hickory. Elm doesn't say much of anything. Ever. And is regarded as one of the creepiest of the BlackCoat Brood-just as he is very vocally quiet, he is very good at sneaking up on people and scaring them. He rarely smiles and when he does it's unsettling. Ironically, out of the brood, Elm is the most popular with the local women in town and people unjokingly refer to him as a casanova. Elm Wood is primarily used in the making of Coffins.

Oakley is the Third sibling and rather pessimistic. He's the kind of the guy in the bar who frequently looks for someone to debate with and argue with-even if he doesn't even believe what he's arguing about. However when he's right-Oakley is RIGHT and he will make sure you know it and everyone in TOWN knows that he's right and YOU'RE WRONG. He makes model boats in bottles as a hobby and is well known for having a bit of a temper when his personal time is disrupted. Oak trees are primarily used in construction-mainly in the building of boats and furniture

Maple is the Fourth Sibling-and he is noted to look more like Mother Blackcoat. While Oakley always looks for a fight and is grumpy-Maple is friendly and a social butterfly. Most people find it hard to believe Maple is even related in anyway to the three siblings previously mentioned. He's much more popular with people and is basically the brother who has to go knock on the door when their baseball goes into a stranger's backyard because Maple just has the people skills and the CHARISMA. Maple trees are best known for producing the ever iconic Maple Syrup

Spruce is the most 'intellectual' of the brood and although he is content with the Lumberjack lifestyle, he has committed himself to at least being a very well read one and applying to mail in collages and schools to become a scholar. His tail often drags on the floor because as a child there was an accident where his tail was crushed by a fallen tree and the nerve damage was bad enough for the end of it to be sort of.....floppy. He often keeps it tucked in his belt loop or simply holds it close to himself so nobody steps on it. Spruce is the tree that is frequently used in Pulp to produce paper.

Dogwood-also known as Puppy-is the shivery timid brother, much like a chihuahua. With 4 out of 5 older brothers being rather other bearing and their idea of bonding is just impromptu fighting and wrestling, you can imagine why Puppy is skittish. Puppy is a bit paranoid about injuries and especially since the increase of lumber mill accidents occurring of late-which the paranoia does pay off and make being a medic a useful skill for him. Dogwood is traditionally used in medicine to ward off fevers, treat wounds and even soothe menstrual cramps and repair nerve damage-although there's no strong scientific proof behind it.

Cedar is the often disgruntled teen of the brood. On the cusp of adulthood but trapped in Teendom in a family with 6 older brothers to live up to; Cedar is voted most likely to buy tickets to an MCR concert and unironically like Hot Topic. He's at the unfortunate age where he feels like the whole world is against him and everyone is out to get him and nobody understands him. Cedar often felt like Marigold was the only one who really understood him and she ran away from home with no notice and Cedar feels rather betrayed and abandoned by that act. Cedar is prominently used in making furniture and is noted for it's pleasant smell.

Rowan the youngest of the massive brood and the baby of the bunch-being the littlest means he often gets away with whatever he wants. But he fortunately doesn't really abuse this power. He does often try to tag along after his brothers in an attempt to be included only to be aggressively sent home as he's not old enough to come to work with them. Rowan was a very sickly baby and there was some concern when he was much smaller that he wouldn't live or be able to walk. He still exhausts rather quickly, but he's been trying to build up his endurance to keep up with the rest of the pack. Rowan is used to carve walking sticks and tool handles.

#TSB Draws #Dnd #Dungeons and Dragons #The BlackCoat Family #Hickory #Elm #Oakley #Maple #Spruce #Dogwood #Cedar #Rowan #Marigold's Brothers

34 notes · View notes

enigmaincrimson · 4 years

Text

I’ll be honest with you... I am trying to get things working over here, but there’s only so much I can fix with technical limitations.

Like the Sonic verse for example.

The prototypes were only really meant to provide rough references for someone else to draw a proper reaction image set if they see fit. They’re way too limited and inconsistent for reaction image use.

While I only need a small selection of character models (discounting alternate outfits), the sonic fandom has many, many world models... making finding proper bearings even more difficult than adding a verse with a well defined world model.

For example, I know there are at least a Genesis era, “Modern” era, and “Boom” templates to work with for character models. The only significant difference between those is how old she is.

The world models... that’s where it gets ugly.

Game-verse goes something like Classic>Modern>Forces

Game-verse is pretty much... just the locals in the main games and that’s it.

Game-verse character encounters are a bit... erratic due to the cast shifting locations depending on the game.

If Evie set up shop somewhere... It’s probably somewhere on Angel Island or in the Mystic Ruins. She usually prefers somewhere isolated and... easy to hide man-made structures without anyone asking questions.

Boom is it’s own separate continuity.

Essentially, it mostly sticks to it’s own set area and doesn’t wander much.

As such, you can pretty much just move in somewhere and if handled properly... it’s a small community that stuff happens.

There’s plenty of abandoned structures in the jungle, so she’d probably set up shop somewhere in there.

IDW runs like Forces>IDW... since it starts where Forces leaves off.

Since IDW is an extension of Game-verse... the hide-out locations don’t change much if at all.

Archie looks a bit like... Classic>Modern, Modern, but it interprets things in it’s own way.

Pre-genesis wave Archie tends to be relatively fixed in location. Of course... places that Evie might opt to set up shop is inhabited in this verse, so... there might be problem.

Due to high levels of observation from Robotnik and later Eggman, any interaction they’d have would be a bit... unusual. If only for the reason that it’s more for his benefit to leave her to her own devices.

After all, she’s taking things out of play that would be potentially hazardous to his empire (And everyone else for that matter) if left free to roam.

However, I could see certain parties taking a bit of an interest in the vault despite the dangers of the vault’s contents.

Post Genesis wave Archie leans more on Modern and tosses out most of the Pre-Genesis wave content.

However, I doubt it changes Evie’s interactions with Eggman’s group that much

Either way, it’s best to say that Evie’s status resembles more of a consultant than an actual member of their organization.

SATAM resembles Classic Archie... until a certain plot arc.

As such, the cast and the like is reduced, but the setting doesn’t change much.

Since interactions are still early... tension is probably a few shades higher.

Underground does it’s own thing despite carrying certain characters in common.

The royalty part of the AU probably gets extra emphasis... At least until Robotnik realizes she’s worth more for her ability to open the Pallandian royal vaults than as a princess.

Adventures... I don’t know what’s going on with that one.

Fleetway is a confusing mess.

Sonic X... uses Dreamcast Sonic as a base and pulls a “Sonic goes to New York/California” with the plot-line.

She’d likely going to be a bit cranky when her workshop gets hauled over to this other world...

Other notes...

Odds are that only a few people in “game-verse” and similar is aware of Evie’s activities. Namely, Eggman, Knuckles, and Rouge as well as anyone else in the Mystic Ruins/Angel island area... at the minimal.

Sometimes Evie interacts with Team Dark as a consultant for GUN. Probably one of the few times Rouge sees Evie outside of whenever the Master Emerald gets involved.

Evie likes bringing little care packages for Knuckles and keep him company sometimes. Mostly quiet chats and star watching. The poor guy seems like he could use some sort of trustworthy company.

Eggman... she’s probably treated more like a consultant at best and a canary at worst. I’d imagine Eggman gives Evie quite a few phone calls Sonic-X verse-wise once he gets his hands on her phone number. No idea what he pays her with though.

I’d imagine Evie and Tails sometimes work on projects together... although it probably annoys Sonic when they get excited over something. Mostly since it tends to take longer to get done.

Amy and Evie likely have a bit of a sister-type relationship... probably more mellow than the whole “spy girl thing” she’s got going with Rouge. Doesn’t mean it isn’t awkward for Sonic though. I mean... they do almost look like sisters...

Honestly though... Evie’s got a tendency to “adopt” family members... so she’d probably bond more to certain Freedom Fighters more than others... and certain villains are more likely to tolerate her behavior once they figure out she’s only going to be a problem if they make it a problem.

So... Hm...

#enigmaincrimson #long post #sonic verse

2 notes · View notes

woolishlygrim · 4 years

Text

Winter Weebwatch #1

So, because it is Good when I get to have opinions about things, I figured I’d try out doing a bunch of mini-reviews for the current season of anime, doing a new batch of reviews with each episode and seeing how they evolve and change over time, whether some do better, or some fall behind, or if I end up dropping any of them (and by any of them, I mean Plunderer).

The winter anime season is kind of a dead zone: Since it starts in January when everybody’s starting to get busy again and Christmas has screwed over their sense of work-life balance, it’s the season with the lowest amount of viewers, and so it’s the season where the shows tend to be noticeably low effort and low budget. It’s telling that, despite having huge franchises with a lot of brand recognition, Sunrise and A-1 Pictures put Gundam Build Divers Re:Rise and Sword Art Online on hiatus for the entirety of the winter season, choosing to take the hit that comes from a three month hiatus instead of wasting twelve or thirteen episodes on the Death Season, The Season Where Shows Go To Die.

So by and large, what we’re reviewing here are either the shows distribution companies didn’t care about, or the shows distribution companies did care about but couldn’t get a channel to pick up in any other season. We’re also not reviewing all of them, because there’s like ninety and my store of time and opinions is finite, so we’re reviewing seven.

While the intention is to follow these seven shows through to the end, what will probably happen is I might drop a couple that aren’t keeping my interest, and pick up a couple that catch my eye. If I pick up new ones, then whatever I pick up will get some kind of bumper review covering several episodes.

Also, I really dragged my heels getting this done, so most of these shows have already aired their second episodes. I’ll be trying to put out the second episode reviews a lot quicker, so that I can be relatively current by the time the third episodes roll around.

Anyway! Week 1, first episodes.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★★☆☆

Infinite Dendrogram has a terrible and ridiculous premise that crumbles into dust if you examine it for more than 0.2 seconds, and I kind of don’t mind that at all.

The show follows Ray Starling, a player in the titular Virtual Reality MMO, which promises infinite possibilities owing to its two unique selling points: The first, that all the NPCs are fully-fledged AIs, meaning the world ‘exists’ distinct from its players or any manned oversight, with quests emerging naturally from the NPCs’ wants and needs, and with NPCs able to permanently die; and the second, that each player character has an Embryo, a superpower generated using their personality as a model, with infinite possibilities.

This is an inconceivably dumb premise. Leaving aside the obvious game balance issues with the Embryos, it’s clarified early on that this AI technology is unique to the game, which means that some game company discovered the technology to create fully conscious, sapient life, and decided to use that technology to create a video game (and in doing so, directly led to the deaths of thousands of those sapient lives).

But I … kinda don’t care? Infinite Dendrogram’s episode was fun, lively, not terribly original but consistently engaging, and managed to introduce five characters who I actually kind of like while telling a self-contained episodic story with good stakes and nice pacing. It feels like Sword Art Online if Sword Art Online was written by a competent writer and also not just a delivery system for creepy, irritating fanservice, and that’s pretty nice.

Also, bonus points for actually making the in-universe game look fun? We’ll call that one another advantage it has over SAO.

ID: Invaded.

★★★★☆

ID: Invaded has indisputably the strongest first episode of this season of anime (really first two, as it aired both episodes one and two back to back), by a gigantic margin. A video called ‘Defending ID: Invaded’ floated by my youtube dash a few days back, so clearly some people don’t agree with me on that, but that’s fine. It’s okay for them to be wrong.

When ID: Invaded picks up, a young man awakens in an empty white void full of floating chunks of a city, with his own body in pieces and no memories. Pulling himself back together, he realises, upon seeing a dead body of a young woman, that his name is Sakaido, and he’s a detective here to solve the woman’s murder.

Sakaido, it quickly turns out, is exploring a cognitive world formed out of a telepathic link with the killer, with a team of investigators in the real world watching through his eyes and picking out evidence to find the murderer with. When the murderer, a serial killer called the Perforator, kidnaps a member of the investigation team, the race is on to find him before he can kill again.

So, ID: Invaded has kind of mastered the art of dripfeeding information in a way that gets a viewer hooked very quickly while steadily delivering a series of twists and turns, and recontextualising the story and the mystery (which, it rapidly emerges, is not the mystery of the Perforator, but rather the mystery of Sakaido himself). It’s gripping and inventive, with a strong if slightly convoluted premise and a lot of interesting material to set up going forward in the series.

In a nice touch, director Ei Aoki turns the mental worlds Sakaido visits (two in the first two episodes) into homages to other surrealist anime directors, mimicking both their compositions and their cinematography. The world of the Perforator draws marked influence from the works of Mamoru Hosoda, an apprentice of Hayao Miyazaki and one of the original creators of Digimon Adventure; while the second world visited pays homage to the works of Akiyuki Shinbo, best known for the unsettling surrealist landscapes and equally unsettling cinematography of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Fate/Extra Last Encore.

Pet.

★☆☆☆☆

Pet looks like a cheap OVA from 2004. Let’s just get that out of the way, it looks bad, but in a really inoffensive way where it just kind of looks cheap and outdated.

It’s … fine. It’s okay. If you’ve ever had a Burger King bacon and cheese burger, you basically know what Pet is like. If you haven’t ever had a Burger King bacon and cheese burger, go and have a Burger King bacon and cheese burger, and then you’ll know what Pet is like.

The first episode doesn’t really give away anything about the premise of the series, save that it involves psychic criminals, but it tells a decent self-contained little story about a guy who learns something he shouldn’t and is then psychic-ly tormented before his memory is eventually wiped.

There’s also just not a lot to say about Pet, though. It fulfills its function as a work of storytelling, and it doesn’t really ever do much more than that, at least in its first episode. It finds its comfortable niche in just being very average and unremarkable, and sticks there, being average and unremarkable.

Of all the first episodes I’m reviewing, Pet seems the most passionless. It’s such a middle of the road piece of art that I struggle to imagine why it was even made. It doesn’t seem like it’s trying to sell merchandise, it doesn’t seem like a passion project, it doesn’t really seem like much of anything. It feels like someone asked a creative writing class to write a short story about psychic criminals, and then one of those stories was turned into an anime episode.

Plunderer.

☆☆☆☆☆

Plunderer offers a moderately interesting premise that literally nobody watching the first episode will even remember because oh good god, from the second scene onwards the entire episode is just non-stop sexual harassment and assault, first from the protagonist to the deuteragonist and then from the antagonist to the deuteragonist, and I hated it. I hated it so much.

In a bizarre turn, when the protagonist sexually harasses and attempts to sexually assault the deuteragonist, it’s played as wacky comedy, but when the antagonist does basically the exact same thing, it’s played with all the sense of horror that those actions warrant.

I just … don’t really get how I’m meant to ever sympathise with the protagonist after this. I don’t know how you rehabilitate a character in the audience’s minds when our very first introduction to him tells us that he’s a sex pest.

Also something something numbers something something die if your number reaches zero something something magical items who even cares what the premise is, my patience for this show ran dry thirty seconds into the second scene.

If I had a way of representing it, I would give this first episode a negative number of stars.

Sorcerous Stabber Orphen.

★★★☆☆

Let it just be noted that ‘Sorcerous Stabber Orphen’ is the most unintentionally hilarious anime title of the season, so there’s that.

A remake of a 1999 series of the same name, Sorcerous Stabber Orphen follows Orphen, a disgraced former sorcerer turned small-time crook and moneylender whose ill-advised attempt to commit marriage fraud is abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a dragon crashing through the roof of his potential bride/mark’s house. This isn’t just any dragon, however, but Orphen’s sister, Azalie, magically transformed after a spell gone wrong, leading Orphen on a quest to turn her back into a human before the sorcerers of the Tower of Fang can kill her.

Side note: While he names himself ‘Orphen’ because he is an orphan, I’m not misspelling the name, that’s how it’s spelled in-show. This is everybody’s fault except mine.

So, this first episode rather shows the age of its source material. It looks very much like a spruced up late 90s anime made with current day animation techniques, and that’s actually not a bad look for it. It’s also not really a good look -- Megalo Box this ain’t -- it’s just kind of a … look. Which is there. It exists in a state of Neutral Retro.

As first episodes go, though, this is probably one of the emptier and slower ones, somehow managing to cover less of its plot than even Plunderer (although it wins out on a massive margin the basis of that plot not being 90% sex crimes), because seemingly not only is its animation style cribbed from late 90s action anime, but so is its pacing.

What’s there, though, is pretty fun. None of it is dazzlingly original, it probably wasn’t that original even in the 90s, but we get introduced to a likeable cast of characters, we get a decent central conflict set up, and the worldbuilding is, while bare bones at present, at least interesting enough to hook a viewer who likes fantasy.

Also, it’s called ‘Sorcerous Stabber Orphen,’ so, you know. Extra star just for that, man.

In/Spectre.

★★☆☆☆

I’m not sure what In/Spectre is trying to be, and it doesn’t seem to be sure either.

The marketing set it up as an atmospheric, brooding supernatural mystery. The first third of the episode frames it as a romantic comedy with emphasis on the comedy. The second third of the episode switches back to atmospheric, brooding supernatural mystery, only for the third third of the episode to switch tracks yet again, this time to an action comedy with an emphasis on the action.

I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with this show. I get mood whiplash constantly, as it veers from genre to genre like a drunk driver on the freeway. By the time the last third of the episode hit, I felt completely unmoored not just from the plot, but from how I was even meant to interpret the characters.

It’s not bad at any of those genres, either. The romantic comedy section was actually pretty funny, the supernatural mystery section was suitably ominous, the action comedy section established stakes and followed through on them pretty well. None of it was blow-me-away-amazing, but it was all competent, it’s just that there’s no coherent sense of tone to any of it.

Darwin’s Game.

★☆☆☆☆

Full disclosure, I completely forgot I was watching Darwin’s Game. I finished these reviews, thought ‘haha, well done, I’ve reviewed all six shows I wanted to review’ and didn’t remember that there was a seventh on my list until I saw its name come up on a streaming website.

That’s a large part of why I’m scoring it so low. It’s better than In/Spectre, Pet, or Plunderer, it’s probably at least as good as Sorcerous Stabber Orphen, but at least those shows actually made some kind of impression on me. Darwin’s Game is good, but I can’t exactly justify giving two or three stars to a show that had such little impact that it vanished from my memory as soon as I stopped actively watching it with my eyes, like some kind of middling Doctor Who monster.

So, Darwin’s Game follows, um. It follows … a guy … with a name that I can’t recall … who is unwittingly dragged into a death game played in the streets of Tokyo. With each player given Sigils, seemingly magical abilities that they can use to gain advantages in the game, and with points exchangeable for vast sums of real money, the players of Darwin’s Game are set to the task of hunting down and murdering other players. Unable to back out of the game, Some Guy finds help with, er … with … a person … whose name I also don’t recall … and …

God, trying to recall the details of this show is like trying to recall what you had for dinner last week just after a severe head injury. You know, but the details just aren’t there.

I’m kind of at a loss as far as opinions go, because I don’t … know? If I think hard, I can remember the order of events that happened in the first episode, but I can’t remember what, if any, emotional response I had to them. All of my memories of this show are a blank, emotionless void, this is like asking me to review Solitaire. Like, I guess it was fine? I guess?

I can’t remember the main character’s face or voice.

Note to self, write all Darwin’s Game reviews from now on immediately after watching the episode, otherwise all recollection of it will melt like ice cream in a heat wave.

I’m still giving it one star, though, because I refuse to put it on the same level as Plunderer. For a start, the main character doesn’t belong on some kind of registry.

#infinite dendrogram #plunderer #id invaded #sorcerous stabber orphen #darwins game #anime #winter weebwatch

2 notes · View notes

vios-rockland-corner · 4 years

Photo

I attempted to draw my Rockland OC Sasha playing pool...it did not go well. I hate the face. I tried to draw a hand close up to make up for the disgrace, but I don’t think it does.

Oh well, it’s part of my rule that I can’t talk about Sasha unless I draw her. Helps me practice (but does not guarantee the picture will turn out great).

Well to be exact, I actually just wanted to talk about another character I’m trying to develop who could be a friend of Sasha.

I’m usually not fantastic at making side characters, but this one’s been forming in my head pretty well over the last few days.

I might make Sasha’s best friend a guy name Pierce (name pending- especially if a canon Rockland character pops up with the same name soon). He’d be someone that she’s known for a long time, either from elementary or middle school. I don’t know their ages yet, so I can’t say exactly how long. They’d be super tight though and comfortable with each other.

I was trying to think of what Sasha does in her spare time. At first I was thinking she had a gal pal who had a tendency to drag Sasha around as her designated driver so they could go to bars. Yeah, Sasha would be a good designated driver, but that doesn’t sound as fun. However, lots of bars and pubs will sometimes have pool tables, and I thought, “Well I could see Sasha going to pubs/bars if she’s with a friend and they have a little something more to do than just chat or scope out the scene!” So that’s where Pierce comes in.

Pierce is a fantastic pool/billiards player. Loves to play and he’s great at it. Sasha also loves pool, and is decent (but not as good as Pierce). So Sasha actually enjoys playing against Pierce to get better at the game, and Pierce enjoys having someone with the persistence to keep playing him.

Funny thing is though, while both Sasha and Pierce would be friendly and helpful if they were playing anybody else, when these two play together they talk a lot of smack and start roasting each other. These two have just known each other for so long that it’s more out of good fun and competitiveness than mean spirit.

Pierce wins the vast majority of the time, but on a rare occasion Sasha has pulled a couple wins (which just encourages her more to keep playing).

They may make small bets like, “You’re paying my tab if you lose,” though Pierce tends to avoid as many monetary bets because he known he’d starting draining Sasha’s wallet ;) (To which Sasha would retort, “Oh we’ll see about that.”)

Couple of reasons I like this setup:

1) I think it’s a decent pastime that both keeps them active in their own space as well as opens up opportunities to meet/interact with other characters in the world

2) Pubs and bars I’m sure would be great places to hear lots of odds stories and rumors...like about people going missing >:)

3) This is a little extra reassurance to keep Sasha safe, having the two of them together a lot in a public space

4) It’s a funny setup considering these two are NOT dating, but they often get mistaken as boyfriend and girlfriend.

At the moment, both characters are single. They don’t even consider dating each other. When people ask, they basically both give the same answer: “I’ve just known them for too long.” They often treat each other more like siblings than potential partners. They’re at this point where literally either could be hanging out at the other’s place, walking around in a towel after a shower looking for something, and they’d just treat it as casual (maybe a little joke thrown in though). It’s not that either of them are gay or lesbian, they just feel like they’re life friends, not partners. Although if either has to find a roommate to save money on living expenses, they’re each other’s first choice.

But of course, to the public eye it might not be easy to tell. It has DEFINITELY been problematic at times for each to find a boyfriend or girlfriend unless they’re hanging out by themselves. There’s been some problems before where the person they’re dating doesn’t like how cozy Sasha and Pierce can get with one another. Sasha and Pierce are the same though where, “If I’m dating someone who won’t accept my friendship with my childhood buddy, then they’re not worth dating.”

Pierce would also probably make a joke that if he married Sasha, “But then I couldn’t be the uncle who can spoil her kids rotten and let her know when she’s getting fat!”

If people they’re not fond of start to bother them too much when they’re playing a game of billiards, their usual strategy is to just start upping the smack they talk with one another (still only to each other) to the point where the other people just can’t get a word in and feel like they’re not even part of the scene. If they don’t know that Sasha and Pierce aren’t dating, Sasha and Pierce will also use each other as an “emergency girlfriend/boyfriend” if there’s someone they want to deter (obviously doesn’t work if somehow the other party is already aware they’re just friends).

Pierce and Sasha will watch each other’s backs though. If it looks like someone bad is getting too close, they’ll find a pool stick shoved in their way. Pierce might actually even smack a dude’s hand “on accident” with a pool stick if he saw them trying to get a little too handsy with Sasha. Otherwise, they just leave and head to the next bar/pub if a place isn’t working for them. People can look, but no touch (unless it’s obvious Sasha or Pierce is interesting in whoever new person they’re talking to).

Pierce is probably pretty good looking. I don’t know what he looks like yet though 0.o I didn’t try to draw him because honestly I’m even worse with male characters (both drawing and coming up with something original). Pierce probably gets more attention than Sasha though in public. Thinking he’s maybe 5′9″, but still debating on that.

Seeing as I changed talking about Pierce as a “would be” to an “is” here, pretty sure I’m going to try to keep him, but he could change in some ways.

Bonus:

I guess I could share HOW I came up with Pierce because it’s...kind of funny. I was in the mall and walking through one of the clothing departments when I passed by the lingerie section. I am a woman, but I still always feel a little weird walking through there. Some stuff looks nice, but I think I’m just shy, haha.

I thought for a moment would Sasha be more of the type to shop for lingerie? I’m thinking...I don’t think so, but what if she was there with someone else? Somehow it turned into me thinking about a serious conversation Sasha was having with a friend, who was advising her to basically be careful and keep herself safe (long story regarding a backstory I’m not sure I’m keeping). Anyways, the end of the conversation goes something like this:

Pierce: “Alright, now that I’ve done my sacred duty as your friend, advising you to stay out of trouble...take me to the lingerie section.”

Sasha: “Why do you ALWAYS want to go see women’s underwear when we go to the mall together?”

Pierce: “First of all: Don’t call it underwear, that’s so undignified. Second: Because if I go there by myself, either I get girls giving me a disgusted look or little old ladies creeping on me saying I must be such a good boyfriend looking to buy something for my girl.”

Sasha: “Well yeah, pretty sure it IS weird for a dude to walk around there alone...”

Pierce: “Yeah but if I’m with you we just look like we’re shopping as a couple.”

To clarify, Pierce thinks lingerie is basically like a work of art. He just likes looking, he doesn’t have a reason to buy it. He doesn’t like if Sasha calls it “underwear.” He’s well aware Sasha wears either boring underwear or just oversized shirts to bed, which he feels is a waste. He often says she needs to treat herself and “upgrade.”

I imagined one time Sasha got annoyed and offered to “model” for him at her place with some lingerie she just bought, just to get his opinion. She purposefully picked something ugly though (I keep thinking “pineapple lingerie” for some reason because that sounds pretty unsexy to me). Pierce was appalled and said, “Burn it.” Would also be another fun reason why Pierce could never really view Sasha as sexy XD

Sometimes Sasha’s not entirely sure if Pierce is more interested in women wearing lingerie...or really just the lingerie itself, haha.

I’m not sure if I’ll keep the lingerie fascination. It’s funny, but debatable whether it’s just perverted or an odd “sophisticated taste.” I could throw it out and keep the stuff I mentioned earlier. It’s just weird that’s how I came up with this character.

#rockland #sasha holmes #pierce #my OC #my art #billiards

3 notes · View notes

stayz4ever · 5 years

Text

Insomnia- Minsung//CHAPTER 1

Pairing: Minho x Jisung (some sort of Changlix)

Stuffz to know: Fluff, angst, mention of sexual activity, family problems, and last but not least my bad humor

Summary: It’s not Jisung’s fought that a little somebody deiced to come back in town. It is his fault for the events that will happen this summer though.

I can't sleep

So tell me

I stay awake again tonight

Maybe tomorrow night, too

So tell me now, I'll find a way

Tomorrow night too, there is no other way

I can't sleep

-----------------------------------------------

The summer breeze hit against Jisung’s face as he struck his head out the window. The wind pushed his bed head hair out of his face to expose the forehead. Where is the car heading? To the only job Jisung has had that he actually enjoyed doing, life guard at a water park. For all of his high school years he stayed the summer at a program of sort that his school organized. He doesn’t mind the screaming kids or the occasional grown up that will tell him if he was doing his job right. As long as he has the sunshine hitting his skin, warming him up nothing can bother him.

“It sucks that this is our last summer here before we go to college and forget each other.” Chan spoke from the driver’s seat and Felix hollered from the back, “You can’t get rid of me, mate!”

“Truth be told you can never forget about any of us except maybe the dog sticking his head out the window.” Jeongin remarked causing Jisung to sigh with his head still out the window, “Yeah I’m so easily forgettable.” That was a lie and he knows it. He’s not an outgoing guy, trust in that. His friends are more than him. Jisung is the quiet one that tends to keep to himself, doesn’t like to talk too much and most definitely hates compliments. He’s not boosting his own ego when he says that compliments are thrown at him constantly. It just can’t be helped when he’s out in public with his friends people come up to him wondering if he’s model. That’s why he’s so hidden in the shadows even if his looks make him shine.....so saying that he’s forgettable is almost impossible.

“Hyunjin and the rest are there already!”

“Are all Australians this loud all the time?” Jisung sighed to himself.

“Are we sharing rooms with the same people or switching it up this time?”

“I wanna keep mine!” Felix screamed again and Jeongin tsked, “Why do you get to keep Seungmin for yourself? I don’t want to be with those two loud ones again this year.”

“Jisung is quieter than Seungmin.”

“Don’t let his act fool your little mind, Chan. Last year he wouldn’t shut up with Changbin!”

“You’re just as loud with anyone, Jeongin!” Felix snapped at him and the bickering continued.

“You’re both fucking dumb. I roomed with Seungmin last year and you two plus Changbin shared together.” Jisung turned to the arguing pair in the back and Jeongin tsked again, “I hate when he’s right.”

“I know right.”

“I’ll pick the damn roommates!”

-----------------------------------------------

Everyone gathered together again like a little reunion even if they saw one other the day before. A meeting happened in the cafeteria, like every year, for the newcomers to understand the system before their shifts tomorrow. It felt like summer camp for Jisung all over again. He only went for his last year of grade school and oh how he hated it. It was loud. Too loud. Everyone tried to make friends with each other even if they were from different schools, let alone different towns. His parents made him go since his brother loved going there when he was his age. It wasn’t fun.

“I picked the roommates and keep in mind I hate all of you.” Chan stood around the boys and added on, “Jeongin, Felix and Changbin like last year-”

“It’s bad enough that I have to restrain myself from pushing them down the slides. Imagine sharing rooms again!” Jeongin whined causing Changbin to wrap his arms around him in a headlock.

“Woojin and Seungmin you’re with me. Hyunjin and Jisung are together, the second floor too.”

“Isn’t Minho coming too? What room is he in?” Jisung grew tense from the question and Chan answered, “Did he tell you that he’s coming back, Changbin? He should have told me first….guess he’ll be with Hyunjin and Jisung if he does.” Now Minho is this big annoying idiot to Jisung. They are friends however and he has known him since forever like the rest. Minho left this program halfway through sophomore year and he didn’t show up at all last year. The rest of boys tried to question him on why he did that when school started again but they always got the same answer, ‘family stuff’. Hearing that always made Jisung’s blood boil. He knows that excuse all too well, at this point he’s the creator of it.

“He would have told us for sure if he was coming.” Seungmin hollered out to the ones still talking about Minho’s appearance. Jisung doesn’t understand the almost argument about it all. So what if he comes back? He’ll probably leave again due to family stuff and no one will see him for a good while. That bothers Jisung enough that he won’t say anything out loud.

“You seem quite, more than usual.” Jisung made eye contact with Hyunjin.

“Just because I don’t wanna put a word in on an dead end conversation doesn’t mean anything.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“Whatever.” Hyunjin hummed at the response then jingled keys in his face, “Let’s go get settled in before they make us be nice to the newcomers.” Jisung followed Hyunjin to the elevator while he tried to answer to days old unanswered text messages from his mother. I’m okay at least.

“Well would you look at that.” Jisung looked up from his reading to see what got Hyunjin speechless. He made eye contact with the man of the hour. Lee Minho himself. He walked up to them with a foolish grin, “Hey, guys.”

“So you actually did come.....you won’t leave this time, right?” Hyunjin greeted him into a hug and Minho laughed, “Hopefully not.” Jisung didn’t knowledge the little smile Minho gave him, it will only hurt.

“You two should go greet the others I’ll bring our stuff up to our rooms.”

“You sure, Jisung?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, you big.....weirdo. Let’s go, Minho!” Hyunjin wrapped an arm around the oldest and lead the way back to the others. Jisung hurried into the elevator with shaky hands trying to press buttons. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He wasn’t ready for that. Not that soon at least. The elevator took him up and once he got to the room’s door he opened it with hurry, though his shakiness helped nothing. Once in he threw bags inside with himself, his body naturally sunk itself down the door frame. He hid himself away in his knees, shakily his controlled the heavy breathing leaving his mouth. The vibrations of his phone stop the mini panic attack from forming.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god! Jisung, why didn’t you answer any of my messages? You had me scared to death over here, young man.”

“Sorry.....it was a long drive here. I finally got internet today.”

“That doesn’t explain why you weren’t home for the other days. I know you were by Chan’s house, his mother told me.” Jisung sighed with his head still in his knees, “I’m sorry.”

“Your dad is too.”

“Don’t- do not speak for him.”

“Talk to him, Jisung. He’s still your father!”

“He made it pretty clear that I’m not his son anymore, mom. If he was really sorry then he would have talked to me first.”

“Jisung.....”

“Sorry, I have to go. I love you, bye.” He quickly hang up. Him and his father’s relationship is kind of a long story that can be told another day. Just a little hint for it all, his dad is an asshole.

----------------------------------------------

Later on in the day everyone settled tired out in their assigned rooms. That only lasted for so long until Changbin thought it would be a good idea to have an reunion for Minho. They all have seen each other before the summer started and even days before the program started. This reunion is just excuses to show off his new gaming console he got as a graduation present. It came with an classic game that everyone can play, Mario Kart.

"Move, Peach!"

"Suck it, Toad!"

"Blue fucking shell?!?"

"I swear to god, get your ass out the way Wario!" Since Changbin only has four controllers, Jeongin, himself, Felix and Woojin played. The rest just watched and made little side conversations while they waited for a turn, except for Jisung. He's only in the main living room becuase he can't say no to the others. He wants to so badly go back upstairs to watch something on the TV but instead he found himself in the furthest corner of the couch staring into nothing. His mind wander around itself. Trying to stay on one problem at a time, Jisung wants to be anywhere but here.

"Hey idiot! It's your turn!" Jeongin toss the controller Jisung's way, his daydreaming fell short. He moved closer to the screen and picked his favorite character, Yoshi.

"I was gonna pick him." He heard a little side comment next to him.

"Tough shit."

"So quite. So rude." Minho huffed out a little giggle and Jisung did his best to ignore the sound. It will only hurt him.

"Don't throw red shells backwards!" Everyone knows how Jisung gets during video games. It's the only time they get reactions from him. Chan kept quite in first place, Seungmin crashed into an another wall, and Minho threw another red shell backwards.

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Dodge it!" Another shell made contact with Yoshi and Jisung ever so calmly threw the controller on the couch with rage.

"Don't be a baby! Finish the race, Jisung."

"Tell him to leave me alone then." Jisung sat back in the corner and Minho grabbed his controller to place him in fifth, his own character finished in last. The next four played.

"You can get really mad." Minho found his seat next to Jisung, "I forgot."

"Whatever." Jisung settled further away from him in the couch keeping his attention on his phone.

"Did anything change since I've been gone?" Minho kept the conversation going and Jisung tried to keep it short, "No."

"You're still the same too."

"How would you know? You barely see any of us to even know our eye colors at this point."

"I know yours are dark brown."

"Whatever."

"I'm gonna teach you how to use other words this summer."

"Oh really? Before you leave again?" Jisung sighed the past part and Minho tsked, "I'll show you the wonders of different responses."

"Can't wait until this summer is over now."

“You won’t be able to get rid of me still.” Minho smirked making Jisung clench his jaw avoiding the others stare hesitantly, “Yeah um...whatever.”

"You did it again."

9 notes · View notes

eternalsshipsandfics · 5 years

Text

Pocky Game

Summary: The craze of the pocky game has reached Cross Academy. Yuuki is dying to give it a go, but her chosen target is not so willing.

Think of the pocky, Yuuki thought stubbornly, this is all for the pocky…

The cold breeze wrapping itself sensuously around her caused her to shiver. The fluffy white tom cat in front of her flattened itself against the thick branch that both were standing on, alert green eyes fixed on the girl. As the effects of the breeze passed, she stretched her hand out gently to the animal. He hissed and scratched angrily at her.

"Come on, kitty…." She attempted, receiving a louder angrier hiss in return. She had put herself in this situation, she mused. She could feel the apathetic blue eyes gazing up at her from the ground. Yuuki was sure that Rima Toya was calmly munching on a stick of the pocky she so desired, and that she had promised to give her if she could get the cat down. If the pocky game hadn't become so popular lately (and if she hadn't wanted to try it), she wouldn't be here.

Yuuki had naively thought that this would be a simple way to get a hold of a packet; to remove a cat from a tree in her own back yard instead of going back into that dangerous town? She had leapt at the offer. The previous vampire attack played briefly in her mind. Had that vampire been more or less dangerous than this bloodthirsty creature in front of her, however?

"Go get it, disciplinary committee." Rima's soft voice drifted up to her, bringing her out of her thoughts. If Rima hadn't been so monotonous, Yuuki would have sworn that she was enjoying this. She puffed herself up in determination before she lunged forward, intent on grabbing the spitting cat before its sharp claws could make contact with her.

Instead of grabbing the tom, which had decided that enough was enough and had scrabbled quickly down the edge of the rough bark, she found herself clinging to the trunk in a moment of unbalance. She heard a quick laugh, but she concluded that she had imagined it when she glanced down to where the model was standing with her usual passive expression.

"There!" Yuuki stated breathlessly as she found her way back down. "Cat is out of the tree!"

"The cat got itself out of the tree." Rima replied calmly.

"It's still out!" Yuuki pouted, arms folding across her chest as the cold wind returned. Rima seemed unfazed as ever. She nodded.

"Congratulations." Yuuki's pout deepened. Was that sarcasm she heard in the other girl's voice? The thought was quickly forgotten when the model made good on her promise and handed her a packet of the prized pocky.

Victory, Yuuki cheered to herself. Now there was the question of who she would play the game with. Her thoughts drifted to her crush, Kaname Kuran, her eyes unconsciously shifting to the classroom window. She mused on the idea for a moment before she put it aside. She didn't have the confidence for that, and what would he think of her asking for such a thing?

Maybe she could play with Yori? Hmmm. Whilst she thought that the two of them could have a great deal of fun with the game, she didn't think that she could ask her either. She'd probably just tease her for asking.

Zero, then…? He was always grouchy; maybe this could be just the thing to get him to lighten up.

"Well, see you around, disciplinary committee. Stay out of trouble." She was brought back to the present once more by the vampire's voice. She stuttered a thanks as her brain struggled away from the topic of who to play the pocky game with and let Rima return to class.

I should really get back to patrolling… Yuuki thought to herself. She didn't want to get scolded by Zero tonight.

~Z~

As perceptive as she naturally was, Yuuki's best friend Sayori Wakaba quickly noticed the packet of pocky sticking untidily out of Yuuki's pocket. She had decided to have the packet with her at all times, in case of emergency.

"You're ready to play?" She asked Yuuki with a smile, the general babble of the filling classroom complimenting her speech.

"Maybe I just want to eat them." She replied, annoyed that Yori could read her so well.

"Are you going to ask Kuran to play?" Yuuki didn't notice the slightly unhappy look on Yori's face as she asked. She gripped the edge of her desk to distract herself as she answered.

"N-no, I don't want to bother him with something like this."

"Kiryuu, then?" Yori's chin rested in her hand, a mischievous smile replacing the grimace. Yuuki's facial expression told Yori all she needed to know. Yuuki wished that she had more options for Yori to cycle between.

"Speaking of Zero, I wonder if he's coming. He's usually here before us…" Yuuki was acutely aware of his absence; Zero tended to be in a fairly dark place if he didn't show up recently, she had come to learn. Just as she was beginning to worry, the object of their brief discussion entered the room. He acknowledged her with a nod.

With Yori checking her text book beside her, Yuuki turned her body to better face Zero. She had barely got a word out when she was interrupted by the entrance of their teacher. She decided to keep quiet for now; she'd have plenty of time to win Zero over.

~Z~

Yuuki's attempts to negotiate were brutally felled before they had really begun. Between Zero telling her to pay attention (like the headmaster wouldn't have Zero tutor her on the subject later) and being caught attempting to talk to him (the teacher had suddenly developed the vision of a hawk and the hearing of a bat), she had stood no chance.

Both she and Zero had suffered the teacher's wrath; he had given them a very public lecture on the kind of behaviour that they should be displaying to their peers as members of the disciplinary committee. Yuuki had felt like sinking into the ground. Zero was the picture of stoicism he usually was. But she could see a slight twitch in his jaw that betrayed his irritation that he was being punished alongside her in their shared detention.

She was at a disadvantage.

The moment that the teacher's attention had focused on marking the large pile of papers in front of him, Yuuki covered her mouth with her text book. Zero's eyes remained fixed on his work sheet.

"Hey Zero," she whispered, "we've been working really hard lately…"

"I've been working hard. You've been getting us detention." He whispered back, scratching out an answer as he spoke. She was definitely at a disadvantage. She forged on undeterred.

"I was thinking that we could have a little fun…" She quietly placed the book in front of her, glancing to the front of the classroom before she pulled the packet of pocky from her pocket.

"No." He replied in an instant as his vision alighted on the sweet.

"I haven't finished!" She whispered hotly.

"Why don't you ask Kuran?" He whispered back, focus once more on his work sheet.

"I don't want to bother him." She tersely replied, a faint hint of red beginning on her cheeks. First Yori, now Zero too?

"It wouldn't be a bother."

"Anyway, I'm asking you!" Yuuki responded in a desperate attempt to get Zero back on side.

"This stupid game isn't worth my time."

"Oh, you're too good to play games now?" Yuuki shot back irritably.

"Cross! Stop distracting Kiryuu!" Came the teacher's annoyed voice from the front of the room, causing her to puff up in disbelief. She couldn't resist giving Zero a sharp jab under the table when she saw the triumphant smirk on his face.

~Z~

"You will play with me!" Yuuki demanded. Zero rolled his eyes, regretting allowing the energetic girl into his inner sanctum which usually kept him safe from Yuuki's fads. Usually she wouldn't have been allowed near the dorm, but he had felt particularly relaxed in her presence that day. He wouldn't be making this mistake again.

"Why would I do that?" He flinched a little when a stick of pocky was suddenly thrust in his face. He made out Yuuki's face behind the pocky, a determined look on her face.

"Because it might just make you understand the concept of fun!"

"This game doesn't seem like much fun." He replied grumpily. Yuuki debated with herself about whether she should just force the stick into Zero's mouth and make him play. He seemed to catch on to Yuuki's train of thought as he swiftly turned his head away. She huffed, dropping herself onto his bed in temporary defeat.

"You know, you could at least play one game with me. I do let you drink my blood." Yuuki had allowed herself to speak her thoughts out loud wistfully, but as soon as they had left her mouth, she knew that she had made a terrible mistake.

"Get out." The rage was almost physically dripping from his words.

"Zero, I didn't mean—"

"Out." He herded her to the door, slamming it shut once she was safely outside.

Yuuki's stomach turned in guilty knots. She had said something needlessly cruel again, and in the pursuit of what? A game? She hadn't intended to speak the words out loud, but that didn't excuse them. She wasn't some sort of martyr. She wasn't special just because she forced her blood on him. She pulled herself away from Zero's door; she would give him some space.

She had been saying such things more frequently lately, hadn't she? She was surprised that Zero had given her as much leeway as he had. But no matter what, she would always be on his side. She just hoped that he would allow her to be. Her determination wavered. She wouldn't bother him about the game anymore, and she would apologise to him at the first opportunity. She headed back to her room, mentally punishing herself for her transgression.

~Z~

Days passed by in an anxious blur. Between her duties as one half of the disciplinary committee and her studies, Yuuki couldn't find the time to properly talk to Zero. It didn't help that he was unusually quiet himself. A particularly worrying trait for one who was known for not talking much. She tried to reassure Yori that nothing was wrong to no avail.

She had found herself attempting to hold back the hordes of day class girls circling the night class like desperate sharks alone approximately two weeks after her faux pas. She was always made acutely aware of how difficult it was to do so every time Zero disappeared early. His threatening aura and mysterious stoicism always had the power to silence the shrieking girls, and Yuuki occasionally wished that she had the same power that he did.

He had gone especially early this evening; was he still angry with her, or….?

"Yuuki?" A familiar voice called her back to the present, putting her rapidly fluttering thoughts on hold. Her heart beat rapidly as she made out the familiar shape of the one and only Kaname Kuran.

"Oh, Kaname-sama! Good evening!" She bowed nervously. She was never able to act normally around him, no matter how hard she tried.

"You haven't been yourself lately. Are you alright?" Kaname asked, concern in his eyes. Yuuki flushed. She hadn't realised that her change in demeanour had been so noticeable. She waved her hands in front of her in a show of her usual enthusiasm.

"I'm fine! Everything is a-okay!" She couldn't ask him about Zero. He had never responded positively to her talking about him before, and his dislike of him meant that Kaname would be quick to blame Zero for his rightful anger. His expression told her that he didn't quite believe her, but he stepped forward to stroke her cheek gently.

"Whatever it is, don't let it change you, Yuuki." That lonely expression was back in his eyes, causing Yuuki's heart to skip a beat. Why did he always look like that when they were together? But she couldn't dwell on such things, she needed to find Zero.

"I really am fine! I have to go. I'll see you later, Kaname-sama." She saluted, before she took the opportunity to run off in the direction of the stables. Zero always went there to rest if he didn't want to be disturbed.

The familiar snort of the deadly White Lily reached her ears, almost causing her to reconsider. Did she really want to risk a hard kick right now? She pushed the thought from her mind. She had to apologise to Zero before it was too late.

As she stepped inside, she glimpsed her partner in crime resting under the protective watch of White Lily.

"Zero?" Yuuki called hesitantly. She gasped when he opened his eyes to look at her and she saw a faint tinge of red to them. So he was thirsty. But hadn't he been taking the blood tablets? He hated that side of himself and didn't want to hurt anyone, so she doubted he would take the risk and stop taking them. Was it a bad batch then? Could blood tablets be bad?

"Get out of here, Yuuki." He bit out at her, voice accompanied by a harsh snort.

"You need—"

"You're going to let me have your blood again?" He rolled his eyes, "Get out of here before I hurt you."

"I'm sorry. I'm not doing this because I have to, I'm doing it because I don't…" She cut herself off, not wanting to even think about it. She took a cautious step towards Zero, eyes on Lily who had assumed an almost predatory stance over Zero. He wasn't in the throes of hunger yet, but she had to do something to prevent it.

Seeing the worry in Yuuki's face, Zero rubbed Lily's side reassuringly before he stood and moved towards her.

"How many times have I said that you don't need to worry about me?" Zero asked.

"It doesn't matter how many times you tell me that, Zero, I'll always worry about you. And I'm always by your side! So please, if it keeps you here, drink my blood." Her mind flashed back to the harmless game that had lead them here. It was funny what kinds of actions resulted from such innocent things.

She gazed into his eyes, hoping her sincerity would reach him. Zero sighed in defeat and Yuuki took the chance to push her hair away from her neck, a silent offering backing up her verbal one. She could see the familiar self-hatred in his eyes, and she wished that she could take it away somehow. Couldn't he see? She wasn't obligated to do this, she wanted to.

As Zero gave in to his vampiric instincts, Yuuki admitted to herself that she was scared. She wasn't scared of Zero himself, but she was terrified that he would disappear. She was scared that he would go back on his word and decide that he was too dangerous. She wouldn't admit it to him, but she was scared that he would hate her and leave (even though if it came down to it, she would take his hating her if it meant that he was safe). At this point, she was most scared that he wouldn't forgive her; that her careless words had destroyed the relationship she had carefully forged with him.

She felt his fangs finally leave her neck and his forehead was leaning gently against hers.

"I told you, didn't I? I will never hate you." Yuuki opened her eyes, only just realising that she had closed them. Zero looked apologetic, but he also looked gentle. He pulled back, a fleeting smirk crossing his face. "Do you still want to play that game?"

"Wh-what?" Yuuki was caught off guard. A part of her still very much wanted to, but it had brought the more selfish side of her to the surface. Zero's eyes flickered to her bloody neck.

"I'll play it with you. But get cleaned up first." He tore a sizable piece of cloth from his uniform and handed it to her. She pressed it lightly against her neck, covering up the blood. They had been reckless, they both knew, and if they were seen…

Well, it was dark. Yuuki was confident that she could play the bite mark as an innocent injury under the cover of darkness. She nodded, smiling gently at her childhood friend. She was happy that he had forgiven her cruel words, and she made a vow to herself that she wouldn't allow her mouth to act before her brain again.

~Z~

Yuuki revelled in her moment of victory, made even sweeter by her decision to give up on playing in the first place. Zero sat opposite her, legs folded, as passive as always. Anyone who saw them would have wondered why they were sat staring each other down for no discernible reason.

When Yuuki had come to the end of her revelry, she presented a single stick of pocky; the packet disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. The only sign that Zero had noticed the action was a fleeting flicker of his eyes. The moment was finally upon them.

Yuuki placed her end of the stick in her mouth, almost flinching as Zero aggressively moved forward to take his first bite. Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes met; his face was so close to hers. She took in her friends handsome features as she worked up the nerve to take her first move forward. Both had frozen, each sizing their opponent up. Yuuki wondered what he was thinking about.

Zero was the one to break their temporary truce. She was unable to tear her gaze away from his as she mimicked his action. She had always been enraptured by his hungry vampire eyes, but she had never taken the time to appreciate them in Zero's more tranquil moments. Had they always been so beautiful?

Yuuki's bites became timid nibbles as the distance between them closed to the point that they both had to tilt their head to avoid bumping noses together. What would it be like to kiss him? Would it be passionate and deep, or would it be a tentative, soft affair?

The thoughts caused Yuuki to bite down hard and twist her head rapidly away from his, tearing the tie away from her and awarding her a loss. Where had those thoughts come from? He was her best friend!

"That's it? I expected more after all that talk." Zero taunted, swallowing the remainder of the stick. Of course, Zero hadn't noticed a thing. She quashed the minor disappointment she felt when she realised that he hadn't been thinking along the same lines as her. After all, she had always loved Kaname, hadn't she?

"I demand a rematch!" Yuuki yelled, regaining her composure. Zero scoffed, leaning back in a triumphant motion.

"You've had your game. You lost."

"I won't let you win again!" She pointed threateningly at him, pouting. He looked less than threatened.

"That's because we won't play again." Zero replied, before he found a second stick of pocky thrust forcefully into his mouth.

"We will." Yuuki declared confidently, watching Zero roll his eyes at her before submitting to one last game.

She didn't let herself become entranced a second time, securing the tie. She had hoped that Zero would give in this time, but he wasn't about to give her her victory for nothing. She wondered if Zero had felt the burst of electricity that she had when their lips had briefly touched. She would never tell anyone, but she secretly hoped that he did.

#vampire knight #zeki #eternal zeki #radiant zeki #fanfiction #archive #repost

19 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 6 years

Text

both foul and fair

ships: could be read as logicality, but none outright

words: 6,723

warnings: hypothermia, cut hand, food mentions, excessive puns

read on ao3 here

both foul and fair

If the blame could possibly be pinned on any singular person, in Logan's relatively unbiased opinion, that person would be Roman.

There are several reasons as to why Logan has reached this conclusion, but primarily for this: it happened in Roman's realm, which Roman made. Ergo, Roman's fault.

....perhaps relative is the key word in the phrase relatively unbiased.

The "bonding time," however, was originally Patton's idea. The other three had been rather slow to warm to the notion, but Logan has found the outings mostly pleasant. There had been occasional conflicts of timing with Logan's very particular working schedule, and it was difficult to go through any period of time together without at least a bit of bickering and backhanded commentary, but it was still mostly enjoyable.

Patton usually had big meals they all cooked together (or tried: Patton would tactfully take over with quite a few side-quests that tended to result in an overabundance of charcuterie boards) and board game nights; Virgil would have movie or video game or music nights; Logan would have quiet evenings spent with coffee and book recommendations for the others and music in the background; and Roman, well. Roman was the wild card.

That particular day was Roman's day to decide what to do, and Roman entreated them all to join him in his realm. From there, the day would take its form based on whatever Roman had in mind: there had been an enjoyable day lounging by a lakeside, when the weather had been warmer, and a sleepy night spent stargazing during a meteor shower, among others.

"We're going on an adventure," Roman declares brightly as soon as Logan steps through the door, jamming something atop Logan's head. "Bundle up, Wall-E!"

"Cease and desist," Logan splutters, hands jerking to the hat as he took a step back—cozy, knit, wool, and oh, fantastic, a rather obnoxious decorative ball on the top hat, wonderful. The flaps over his ears would be beneficial in ensuring a decreased risk of frostbite, though, and he rather enjoyed an article on the history of the ushanka and other hats—

He shakes himself. "Clearly, I would be Eve."

"Logan's right, Roman," Patton says, busy fussing over Virgil, who is seemingly refusing to wear a coat atop his usual hoodie. Virgil and Logan take a moment to exchange a despairing glance, which Patton either doesn't notice or cheerfully ignores. "Logan would be Eve, and I'd be Wall-E, and Virgil could be that cute little cockroach—"

Logan straightens his glasses, as Roman's knocked them askew, in the midst of Virgil grumbling angrily about his role in the movie, and Roman's just trying to be a nuisance, but Logan knows better than to voice his frustrations so early in the day. He goes over to the table instead, as it's laden with winter wear.

"Tell Logan about your plan today, Roman," Patton says, now jamming a pair of earmuffs onto Virgil's head, ignoring Virgil's squawks about his bangs.

"Oh, it'll be wonderful," Roman says—somehow making a puffy red-and-white winter coat that went down to his knees look like the height of fashion. "There'll be hot cider, and we'll go through the Winter Wonderland to go sledding, and then we'll get back here to bundle up in front of the fireplace with some cocoa and we'll roast marshmallows—"

Patton claps his hands in delight. "Like a snow day! Now, everyone, we've got to get all bundled up—"

Logan reaches for a sleek, black athletic jacket, ideal for the innermost layer, cutting off Patton's words. He's researched the ideal methods of dealing with the cold, though Thomas lives in a warmer climate. He's already running over how to decrease risks of the less savory aspects of being cold—the repeated application of warm beverages throughout the day would be helpful.

He tugs on a similarly puffy jacket—black, blue detailing, with a cheery Logan!!! ☺ scrawled in Patton's handwriting on the tag. Next a blue pair of gloves, a blue scarf, and a cursory straightening of the cap Roman had forcefully bestowed on him.

Patton's decked out in sky blue and gray—Logan spies the cat hoodie beneath his puffy jacket, and he's wearing a hat that's a similar style to Logan's, in addition to a scarf and mittens. Virgil, finally having sulkily agreed to get on with the day, is all in purple and black, grumpily adjusting his earmuffs with en-gloved hands. If Logan's not mistaken, they're the model of earmuffs that double as headphones—and, yes, there's distant strain of Virgil's music.

Roman, after ensuring that everyone's put on their winter boots (blue for Patton, black for Logan, red for Roman, purple for Virgil—Roman often delights in whenever he gets to dress them, however indirectly, and therefore goes the extra mile whenever he gets the chance) flings open the door, sending a blast of cold air into the house. "Onwards, men!"

He traipses cheerfully out into the snow, and with a sigh, Virgil follows, hunched over himself. Patton happily claps Logan on the shoulder, and with a sigh, Logan follows after him.

They're barely five minutes into the walk when Logan has to admit that he is (grudgingly) impressed: Roman's truly outdone himself this time. It rather looks like they've stepped into a postcard. They've set off down a plowed path in the midst of woods. The air smells of pine, and cold, with the faintest whiff of mint on the slight, nippy breeze. Fat, fluffy flakes fall gently from the clear white sky. There's already an even, undisturbed layer of snow over everything, making the world seem incredibly quiet.

What was that line he'd read? Ah, yes, Sarah Addison Allen—“It was magical, this snow globe world.”

Logan takes a moment to turn slowly in a circle, to witness this artificial form of winter mimicked to near-perfection, the world's faults smoothed over so professionally it almost wasn't noticeable, to breathe in and feel the burning cold as acutely as if he's in an actual forest—

"Keep up, four-eyes!" Roman shouts.

Moment of appreciation broken.

He sighs, and hastens after them—they've turned a corner, and a frozen-over river cuts a neat ribbon between the trees. On their side is an abandoned wooden stand, where Patton's helping Roman hoist what looks like a steaming cauldron before them. Logan's sense of smell is overtaken then—apple, most predominantly, and cinnamon, and possibly nutmeg, or cloves—

"Here you are, Lo," Patton says, cheerful, pressing a lid onto the paper cup before pressing the cup into into Logan's hands. "Careful, it's hot!"

Logan curls his hands around it, enjoying the way the heat seeps into his hands, even through his gloves. Patton hands a cup to Virgil next, who tips his cup at Logan in a sarcastic toast (it has been a mystery, most of their lives, how nearly everything Virgil does has some kind of sarcastic slant to it) and then Patton waves Roman off and ladles a cup for him next before getting one for himself.

Virgil's eyes narrow at the cauldron. "Seems dangerous to take a drink from an unattended cauldron in the middle of the forest."

Leave it to Virgil—though, in the real world, Logan would be inclined to agree with him. As it is—

"My imagination, my rules," Roman says happily, waving a hand so the cauldron vanishes. "The witches are all holed up in their cottages, they hate it when I make it snowy. We can get refills at the sledding hill, we're nearly there."

Logan takes a second to survey the environment. It seems like a very pretty river, even frozen—in fact, he might have come close to following this exact path when the whole of Roman's realm had been decidedly more summery, back when the other three had been close to napping in their post-picnic stupor.

"Roman, were there those nymphaea candida specimen right around here in the summer?" Logan asks, now he's wondering.

"Nympha-what? Nymphadora? I didn't peg you for the one to start the Harry Potter talk, but if you insist—" Roman says, lowering his cup, glancing away from where Patton and Virgil are making mini snowsides.

"The river lilies," Logan says with a sigh. "White petals, yellow centers?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose," Roman says. "There might have been."

Logan disguises his sigh by taking a sip of the admittedly delicious cider. Relying on his own memory then, he supposes, however unreliable that may be.

"Could we ice-skate on this river, Roman?" Patton gasps, looking up from what Logan thinks is snow-Patton, though it could also be snow-Logan.

Roman says, "No, this wouldn't do! We could go back to that lake we went to in the summer, though, that would be a nice rink for us. The ice on the river would probably be too unreliable."

Virgil shifts uncomfortably at that. "Couldn't you make it, you know. More reliable?"

"If we were going to ice-skate on it, certainly," Roman says, though without the bite that might have been in the statement a year prior. Virgil tilts his head, conceding the point, and Patton busily affixes a pine-needle-sash to what must be snow-Roman, mittens off, eyes narrowed in concentration. "The lake would be our best bet, though. No crumbling bridges or uncomfortable stopping points. We can go ice-skating next time."

Logan tries not to shudder. Lots of falling onto cold, hard surfaces, and Roman can probably secretly figure skate like an Olympian. He hopes Roman gets distracted by whatever idea takes him next.

Roman and Logan wait for Patton and Virgil—mostly Patton, Virgil seems to be in charge of snapping little sticks and pine needles to appropriate sizes for props—to finish making their snowsides, finishing their cider. Logan hangs onto his cup—if there'll be refills at the hill, he's disinclined to make waste, even imaginary waste.

Patton pauses, before he adds a little snowman in the middle—Thomas, Logan realizes, and Patton carefully adjusts the arms of snow-Thomas and each of the snowsides to go over each other's shoulders, like they're posing for a picture. Patton nods in satisfaction, and moves to stand, yanking his mittens back on and shaking out his hands.

"A wonderful facsimilie, Patton," Roman enthuses, crouching to snap a picture with his phone, and then a selfie with them, because of course.

"Good job, Pat," Virgil adds, and Logan echoes, "Indeed."

"Aw, thanks, guys," Patton says. "Let's go get some more cider, though, my hands are freezing!"

Roman laughs and claps him on the back, and off they go—Patton and Virgil, then Roman close behind, and Logan trailing after him, the pair of them trying to take his steps in their footprints—they're off the plowed path, now, and he doesn't want snow to get into his boots and wet his socks.

The snow grows thicker and thicker, and Logan loses sight of the river. The snowfall has stopped, leaving them with snow that must be half a foot deep—Logan would measure if he had an implement with him, but he doesn't, so he's left with an estimation. The trees have thinned out, and the world is blindingly white—the only way they all know where they're going is to trust Roman, a horrifying thought.

They've resorted to a single-file procession—a line of Patton-Virgil-Roman-Logan, Roman calling "It won't be long now!" and "Just past this bend!" as they plod along.

Logan is about to ask if this is the fastest they can go when they all hear it.

Crrr-crrrr-crrrrr.....

They all freeze where they're standing, Virgil wobbling—he'd been about to put his foot down where Patton's foot had just been.

Patton himself had frozen, arms held out away from him for balance, and he swallows enough that Logan, as far away as he is, can see his Adam's apple bob.

"Patton," Logan calls, trying to infuse a sense of authority into his tone, but a thread of fear works its way in anyways. "Virgil, if you'd just bring your weight down and distribute it evenly along the ice—"

Crrrrrrrrr—

And then, all in one movement, Patton moves faster than Logan's panic-ridden mind can track—he swings his arms from where he'd been holding them out, and shoves at Virgil's chest, hard, sending Virgil sprawling away from him, away from the river, and with the loudest, angriest CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—

"Patton!" Logan shouts, and his voice seems to harmonize with the final crack—because Patton looks up enough to meet eyes with Logan, arms pinwheeling, when he's suddenly swallowed up by the water.

It boggles him—Patton there one moment, gone the next, as if this is some kind of magic relevant to Roman's realm, vanishing in less than a moment, and he's frozen to the spot, arms reaching as if he'd have been able to grab Patton and haul him back to safety—

Later, when Logan's reviewing the events in his mind, this won't surprise him, but at the time it does—Virgil is the first to react, throwing himself onto his stomach—distributing his weight evenly across the ice, Logan thinks dimly—and looking down into the crevasse that's swallowed Patton up, only black water greeting him.

"Spread out!" Roman barks, and Logan rushes to oblige, the pair of them throwing themselves onto their stomachs and sweeping aside armfuls of snow, squinting through the ice, to the dark water below, eyes scanning the depths below, until—

—a faint pale hand, he's lost his mitten—

"HERE!" is torn from Logan's throat, almost too desperate to be described as a scream, and he waves a hand desperately at Roman, who seems to understand what he needs immediately because in the next second there's a hammer in his hands, and he slams it down on the ice as close as he can get to Patton without hurting him, and again, and again—

Logan's barely thinking when he shoves his arms into the water, the cold hitting his arms so hard it hurts, and it's taking too long, every second one they might lose sight of Patton, and he closes his hand around an arm and pulls—

Distantly, he's aware of someone's hands holding at his legs, his waist, to make sure he doesn't fall in after him, and they hasten forwards to help haul Patton up, out of the water, onto his back, and what he sees terrifies him.

His face is too pale, and too still—Patton is their emotion, he should be laughing or listening earnestly or smiling or frowning, not this blank thing—

Logan's about to bend, plant his ear over his mouth to see if he's breathing, but Patton beats him to it—he lets out a cough, barely turning to keep himself from spluttering on the water, and Logan hastily shoves his hands under his head, to tilt his head to the side to keep him from choking on the water again.

"Right," Roman says, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, eyes wide, "Logan, what do we—what do we—?"

"Home," Logan says, and the word's barely out of his mouth before they're all crouched in Roman's living room, Patton still coughing weakly.

"Right," Logan says, taking a moment to draw his hand over his face, and then, "Right, Roman—start a fire—Virgil, get some blankets, as many as you can, and something warm for him to drink—"

There's the sound of two different sets of boots thumping off, doing what they're assigned to do, and now Logan has to fix it, he has to fix it—

He's struggling to undo his own coat zipper with his burningly cold hands, but he manages it and throws off the puffy coat before he sets in on Patton's, ridding him of his puffy coat and his singular mitten before there's more thudding and Virgil drops the blankets on the ground and sets in on the cat hoodie, allowing Logan to get to work divesting himself of his soaked clothes.

"Logan," Virgil says, voice threaded through with, well, anxiety, jostling Patton with his desperate attempts to get off his wet clothes as fast as possible. Patton barely even stirs. "What are we doing here?"

Logan's struggling to get off his inner jacket before he finally manages it, leaving him in his short-sleeved shirt. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around himself, and picks up three blankets, draping them over Patton, trying to ensure that all of his previously exposed skin is covered as he talks.

"We need to get these wet clothes off and make sure he gets dry. His body's lost heat faster than it can produce it, so we need to help warm him up."

Thud thud thud, yes, that's Roman running flat-out, juggling a variety of things, slamming down to his knees before the fireplace as Logan wraps Patton in blankets up to his ears.

"Water's unfortunately good at conducting heat away from your body, so he's lost heat much faster than if he was exposed to the elements the way we were. We need to make sure he can sustain a healthy core temperature, so that means blankets, a fire, and warm liquids—"

Logan has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it, he has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it, he has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it—

He grabs another blanket, barely managing to throw it over his own shoulders before he wraps the rest of his blanket around Patton, pulling him close, holding Patton in his lap.

"Virgil, get him that something warm to drink," he says, terse, and Virgil hesitates before he scuttles off, Roman cursing as he fumbles with a matchbook.

He notices Patton's eyes are drifting shut, and Logan pokes him angrily in the ribs, once, twice, three times, before Patton's eyes open a little more, gaze unfocused, still so expressionless—

"Patton," Logan says, and pokes him in the ribs again, until Patton's head manages to swivel towards him, as much as it can when they're in such close contact. "Hey. Hey, Patton, what does a dinosaur wear when it's cold?"

Patton blinks. Once, twice.

"A Jurassic Park-a," Logan blurts out, too nervous to let him finish his thought. "Get it, Patton? Like the movie? And the segment of the Mesozoic Era? Get it?"

Patton blinks at him more, and Logan pokes him again, desperate. He needs to keep Patton's attention, and he needs to keep Patton from falling asleep. He's talking about the only thing that's coming to mind, something that would captivate and keep Patton's attention, and those are the awful jokes that come on the back of the chips that Logan likes to eat to fuel a late night brainstorming session, the jokes Patton love and Logan never understands but memorized anyways.

"Where does Frosty the Snowman keep his money?" He presses, and Patton's head dips worringly. "Mo." Another hard poke to the ribs, and Patton rests his head on Logan's shoulder with a shuddering breath. "Where does he keep his money?"

"A s-s-snuh," Patton mumbles into Logan's neck.

"A snow bank, that's right," Logan presses on, voice tight, why isn't there a fire, and he tucks his hand against Patton's cheek, keeping him upright, keeping him awake. Patton blinks at him again and again. "You're so smart, Patton, that's exactly right. Keep those guesses coming. What kind of math does Hedwig like?"

Finally, finally a fire starts up in the fireplace, and Roman swivels towards them as Logan bites out, "Owl-gebra, Patton, she likes owl-gebra, see? Because she's a snowy owl?"

Yes, there, the slightest twitch of a lip. That's a good sign. He thinks.

"What do chefs call Baked Alaska in Alaska?" Logan asks.

"Whuh," Patton mumbles.

"A baked here," Logan says, and there's a little huff of air from Patton, so close to a chuckle. Logan wriggles them closer to the fire, so Patton's closest to it, Roman throwing in old newspapers as fast as he can crumble them, building the fire high.

"Which side of an Arctic Tern has the most feathers?" Logan presses.

Another twitch of the lip. "Ousside," he sighs.

Logan laughs a little, giddy with it. That sounded like a word! That's even better! "So clever," Logan says. "Okay. Um—"

"Why do seals swim in salt water?" Roman picks up, and Patton sways towards him, only Logan's arms around his waist keeping him upright. Roman looks—a little nervous, a little scared—but it's gone in a flash as he grins and does jazz hands and declares, "Because pepper water makes them sneeze!"

Something that could conceivably be related to a snort.

Virgil crashes in from the kitchen, somehow hauling four mugs and a steaming kettle without dropping anything.

"Patton," he pants, and Logan doesn't even have to help Patton move his head that time, "What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?"

Roman stands to help Virgil fill up the mugs as fast as possible, and Patton's chin settles on Logan's shoulder. Logan pokes him in the ribs again, sharp, and Patton mumbles incoherently.

"Frostbite!" Virgil says, fingers threading together, biting his lip.

"Good," Logan says, and pokes Patton again. "Did you hear, Patton? Frostbite!"

"Goo'ne," he slurs. "S'good."

They keep them coming as Virgil and Roman work on making cocoa for all four of them—why don't mountains get cold in the winter? they wear ice caps! what do arctic hares use to keep their fur looking spiffy? hare spray! what do you call a cold ghost? casp-burr!—and Logan has to keep poking Patton, even as Logan feels more and more like a person. Control over fire, he thinks—there is a reason that it was the most revolutionary discovery and invention in human history, spurring mankind to progress to the point they are at today.

But Patton is still shivering hard enough that his teeth clack together, even with the extra blankets, and his back to the fire. He's still barely responding to the jokes—more slurred mumbles, huffs of air, smiles that look more like winces. Virgil, visibly worried, lifts the mug to Patton's mouth so he doesn't have to disentangle from the blankets, and Patton flinches back, spitting.

"Burns," he chokes out. "Too hot—"

Virgil's brow creases in concern, and Logan can see why—he'd barely waited for the kettle to heat, so the water is only a few steps above lukewarm. It would be a fine temperature for any of them to drink, except—

Logan's busily wracking his brain for the article he'd read years ago—handle the person gently, limit movements to those that are necessary. Move the person out of the cold, remove wet clothing, cover the person with blankets, monitor breathing—but what else, what else, they're missing a step—

So how would Logan get warm on a cold day? Wear blankets, stay dry, what else—

And it hits him so suddenly that he barely resists smacking himself on the forehead.

"Roman, Virgil, would you two come over here? I think I know something else we need—"

Logan's loath to leave Patton in this state, but Roman and Virgil seem to both understand—with a bit of bickering, Patton's laid down on his side, as curled up as he can be, with Roman pressed up against his back and Virgil against his front, Virgil keeping a close eye on Patton to ensure he doesn't go to sleep. Logan discards the blanket he'd had around his shoulders, and he hears a sucked-in breath.

"Logan, your hand," Virgil says, almost getting up but remembering himself at the last moment. Logan stares at his hand—still bleeding sluggishly, and he sees the slight stain on the dark fabric of where his hand had been resting on the blanket.

"I'll bandage it up," he says, standing. "Roman, your first aid kit's still in the bathroom—?"

Roman nods, and Logan sets off to gather his supplies, setting a quick pace. Now that he's aware of the injury on his hand—must have been cut on the ice—it pulses more and more, notifications of something wrong to his brain, something to fix. But pain is a message he can choose to ignore—it is more important to get Patton back to a healthy body heat that he can sustain on his own. A cut hand is hardly the priority.

When he comes back, first aid kit tucked under his arm and a variety of makeshift warm compresses in his hands, he crouches beside Patton, placing one on the back of his neck. Patton makes a squeaky noise, trying to move away from it, but Logan presses it into place.

"We're heating your major arteries, Patton," Logan says, "so that it'll help provide better internal heat. Neck for the carotid, armpits for brachial, the groin for your femoral. I don't want to unwrap you from your blankets, so could you place them for me?"

"They're too hot," Patton mumbles. Logan forces himself to take a breath—Patton responds best to pathos, not logos. Appeal to his emotions.

"Patton," Logan says, tempering his voice, making it softer. Patton's eyes took too long to focus on him, and Logan takes note, tries to inject the concern into his voice as best he can.

"It would make me feel... very relieved if you would put these where I tell you, all right? We're all worried about you."

Patton blinks again, and there's something familiar in the way he shifts in his blankets. Something that makes him think sulky, or perhaps—self-conscious.

In the next moment, his eyes slide to where Virgil is curled against Patton, who seems to be ignoring the way Logan is imploring Patton, and Logan realizes. The way Patton shifted, just then—it's the way Virgil fidgets in his hoodie whenever there's too much attention on him. The similarity between them is jarring, in that moment. Patton lost his glasses in the river, and the cold brings out the blues and purples in his face. If Virgil would discard his hoodie and they stood side by side—Logan would be hard-pressed to distinguish between them.

For some reason, that makes something in his chest tighten. For once, he doesn't particularly analyze why.

He has to make himself softer, gentler. Logan widens his eyes a little, leans in a little closer, moves his uninjured hand from the compress to let his fingers scratch lightly at Patton's scalp. He makes himself look as entreating as possible. "We just want you to feel warmer, and better, and happier. And these would help warm you up faster, so we can all feel better." He takes another breath, sets his pride aside, and adds, "Please."

Another shift, and then Patton's hands snake out of the blankets, tugging in four of the compresses, and Logan lets out a breath of relief. He runs his fingers through Patton's hair again.

"Thank you. You just need to keep them there for about ten minutes, but they'll make you feel so much better, Patton, I promise."

"Hand," Roman says pointedly, as soon as Patton's adjusted for the compresses, and Logan nods, sitting back and opening up the first aid kit.

From there, it's almost comforting to focus on a more straightforward injury. Logan tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and sets to work. Disinfect with a careful, measured inhalation through his nose to keep himself from making any less-than-distinguished noises from the pain. No stitches necessary, thankfully—it's a long but shallow cut, running jagged from the space between his fourth and fifth metacarpals, down the carpals, and jerked suddenly to the side, fortunately away from any important veins.

He places clean white gauze over the wound, and then wraps his hand and wrist in an elastic bandage, to ensure the gauze would stay in place. He flexes and clenches his hand, to ensure it would stay in place, and then it's time to ask Patton to pass the compresses back. He does that with remarkably less of an argument.

Logan decides to reheat their abandoned kettle so they can all have some cocoa, and he's just pouring them new mugs when Patton sniffles.

The other three focus on him with laser-like intensity, and then Patton coughs, and then he says, "Wh-what'd'you c-call a P-patton that falls through th-the ice?"

"What?" Virgil asks, voice soft.

"P-popsicle," Patton stammers out. "G-get it? B-because I'm the dad? And I'm c-cold?"

There's a moment of strained silence that stretches like a rubber band, and then Logan laughs, a bit too hysterical, but he can't bring himself to care—he's too relieved. Reasoning, a joke—marked improvement from Patton's previous state. They're practically out of the woods. Roman joins in next, laughter loud and booming, and Virgil snickers, shaking his head.

"Awful, Padre," Roman says, but he's grinning and hooking his chin over Patton's shoulder. Logan would wager a hug happened under the blankets, where he can't see. "Truly. I love it."

And they're off again, puns galore as they all sit up and drink their cocoa—what eight letters can you find in the arctic ocean? h to o! why is slippery ice like music? if you don't c sharp, you'll b flat! why did the snowman want a divorce? because he thought his wife was a flake! where can you find an ocean without water? on a map! where do penguins go to see movies? the dive-in!—and it's so much better, now that Patton's aware enough to laugh along.

By the time he's drained his cocoa, he isn't shaking anymore, and the temporary stammer's vanished. He even pops in with a couple more, to Logan's chagrin. ("How is a baby bird like its dad? It's a chirp off the old block!")

Roman goes to get the supplies for roasting marshmallows, at Logan's urging (carbohydrates and sugar would be good for boosting Patton's energy) and they all gather in front of the fire. Virgil takes over fussing for a while, from there—he makes sure none of the blankets are within the flames' reach, and takes Patton's stick if he thinks his hand's been outside of the blankets for too long, and makes sure Patton won't burn his tongue on any of his marshmallows.

Roman would either bluster off any such attention or play up any such injury to get more attention, and Logan would strain under such care. Virgil would brush it off with a scoff. Patton, though—Patton just smiles indulgently, occasionally hugging Virgil or thanking him, usually with a sport or champ or sunshine tacked on at the end. Each time, Virgil ducks his head and mumbles something like "whatever." Because that's what Virgil needs at the moment: to reassure himself that things are okay, that Patton is okay, and that the worst of it is over now. And Patton must know it; that must be why he isn't squirming under the attention. Patton has always been the most gracious of the four of them. He's much more observant than they give him credit.

Logan turns back to his own marshmallow, only to find Roman looking over at Virgil and Patton, too. It seems he isn't the only one to have that realization. Roman clears his throat when he realizes he's been caught, and drives a nearly-friendly elbow into Logan's ribcage, before swiftly spearing another marshmallow on his stick.

Logan scowls (nearly, the key word in that phrase) and elbows him back, before popping his own marshmallow into his mouth.

They work their way through the plate of marshmallows, and Patton's eyes seem to focus on Logan's bandaged hand for the first time with a small noise of dismay. Logan decides to take a page out of his book, and sits still, unprotesting, when Patton takes Logan's hand gently between the both of his.

Patton carefully turns Logan's hand over, inspecting the bandage, and then back over again.

"It's not very serious," Logan says. Distantly, he's aware that Virgil's pulling Roman to his feet, to go make something a bit more substantial to eat and to top off their drinks, but he's too ensnared by this: the heat of the fire, and Patton's cautious touch, like Logan's made of glass. "It should heal up just fine."

Patton hums, and settles for cradling Logan's hand, tracing his fingers along the bumps in the bandage, the protruding squares of gauze. Gently, with such a soft pressure it, bizarrely, makes Logan think of bugs crawling up his arms.

"You were very brave, Logan," Patton says instead. "I'm sorry that you got hurt while you were saving me."

He isn't looking up from Logan's hand, so Logan can only hope that he doesn't see the slight flush to Logan's cheeks. Logan clears his throat.

"Yes, well," he says. "Acceptable loss, a bandaged hand. You... it would be much less so."

A potential future too terrible to even think of, so he sets the thoughts aside.

"Still," Patton says, and his brow is furrowed. It's very odd to see Patton without glasses. He wonders distantly if there's an old pair gathering dust somewhere, or if Roman can materialize a pair, before an idea occurs to him. "I hate that you got hurt."

"I didn't notice it until Virgil pointed it out," Logan says truthfully. "The cold may have been helpful, numbing it."

He reaches up with his free hand, taking off his glasses. He narrows his eyes and blinks, adjusting to the blurry vision, before he reclaims his hand from Patton to tilt up Patton's chin, directing him to look at Logan straight on. He holds up the glasses in explanation. Patton blinks at him, a little confused, and in answer Logan carefully slides his pair of glasses onto Patton's face.

"Our prescriptions are the same, if I recall correctly," Logan says, and fiddles with them so they sit correctly on Patton's nose.

Even without his glasses, he's close enough that he can see the faint dusting of freckles across Patton's cheeks and nose, the way his lips are slightly parted, the look in his eyes—like Logan has done something extraordinary, revolutionary, amazing, instead of just handing over a pair of glasses. Logan's fingers brush over the tops of the shells of Patton's ears, and he clears his throat, letting his hands and gaze drop.

Except Patton picks up his injured hand again, and Logan blinks, looking back at him. There is a look of determination in Patton's eyes.

"Well," Patton says, "clearly, you've forgotten the most important part of treating an injury."

Logan blinks. "Impossible. I disinfected and cleaned the wound and bandaged it properly—"

But then Patton's spinning his hand over, palm up, and dropping to kiss it with an obnoxious smacking noise, and Logan's mouth drops open, just a little.

"You forgot to get someone to kiss it better!" Patton declares, and then leans forwards and kisses Logan's cheek with an impossibly more obnoxious smacking sound, the mwah! seeming to echo around the room.

??????????????????????????????

Patton leans forwards, and gives Logan a short, sweet hug—a squeeze round the shoulders, really. Logan has frozen up, arms trapped awkwardly between them. His cheek is a little wet from where Patton's lips had been. What—what exactly—what?

Virgil and Roman choose then to walk in, and Roman declares loudly, "Has Logan had a malfunction?"

All at once, Logan's face burns, and he moves to adjust his glasses, except there's nothing to adjust, so he ends up poking himself in the nose.

"Now, Roman," Patton says, "Logan just did something very nice, and I was thanking him, is all. What'd you make?"

Roman and Virgil exchange a slightly sheepish glance, and present the plates—quesadillas, if Logan's not mistaken, that were made in the microwave. He supposes that, at least, it isn't burnt.

Roman builds up the fire more while they all eat in relative silence. They've just finished their meal when Virgil says suddenly, "Pat, do you want me to get you some actual clothes?"

Patton's just arranged a blanket vaguely like a toga over his bare chest, with another wrapped around his shoulders. "That'd be great, kiddo," Patton says. "How about some pajamas for everyone? We'll do a slumber party!"

"I'll handle this, Virgil," Roman says, looking excited, and snaps his fingers before anyone can protest.

Logan looks down at himself, prepared for the worst. But it isn't actually all that bad—a navy shirt, and a fuzzy light blue pair of pants with a unicorn print on them. Roman's outfitted in a Prince Charming shirt and a pair of checkered pajama pants, and Virgil's picking at his thick tank top straps—Logan suspects he's secretly pleased with the Nightmare Before Christmas theme. Patton's is the most eyesearing combination of colors—his top is a very bright rainbow tie-dye t-shirt, and his bottoms are patterned with... some kind of reference, Logan supposes, in a shade of happy purple.

Logan also drapes a blanket over Patton's shoulders. Just as a precaution. Patton gives him a look that Logan would describe as "fondly exasperated." But he does cuddle into it, wrapping it around himself, and Logan counts it as a victory.

Patton gets to pick the movie, and all three of them groan when Patton reveals "Frozen" with a mischievous smile ("get it? because I was frozen?") but they all settle in—Logan suspects some quirk of Roman's realm, because the floor feels much more like a mattress than an actual floor, now. In any case, there are plenty of throw pillows and blankets sprinkled on the floor, and Logan picks up a blanket at random, resigned to restraining himself from pointing out the holes in reason. And, of course, to Roman's performances, and Patton's acting along, and Virgil's commentary.

By the time Anna is climbing the impossibly formed ice stairs to her sister's impossibly formed ice castle, all four sides are struggling to suppress yawns. He blames Virgil entirely for yawning the first time, and he'd caught it then, and the pair of them had made swift work of Patton and Roman. Besides, it had been a long day. Sleep would do them all good.

Logan's about to admit defeat, curl up under his blanket and go to sleep, when Patton clears his throat. All three of them turn to him, alert, and he spreads his arms.

"We should all cuddle together," he says decisively. "I got to cuddle plenty, but I didn't get to snuggle with all of you. I mean, if everyone's. Comfortable with that."

Patton. Hesitant. Abnormal. Logan doesn't like it.

"Certainly," he says, a little stiff. "Close physical contact increases oxytocin levels."

Roman, not to be outdone, proclaims, "Of course! That sounds wonderful!"

Virgil shrugs a little, plucks a little more aggravatedly at his tank top straps. He looks oddly bereft without the hoodie. "Sure, I guess," he grumbles.

It doesn't materialize perfectly from there, of course—they have to go and brush their teeth and wash their faces, jostling each other at the sink. And there's a bit of arguing about configuration, and who would be on their back or their side, and gathering and placing of blankets and pillows, and then shifting in their place, getting comfortable. Logan's-now-Patton's glasses are settled safely on the coffee table.

When Logan will wake up, there will be twin wet spots of drool on his shirt. Patton will be sprawled halfway over Logan's body with his hand on Virgil's back, Virgil curled up with his head on Logan's shoulder. And Roman will be the cause of Logan's feet falling asleep, tucked up between Virgil and Logan's bodies as he would be, with his dead weight on Logan's legs and his arms enclosed around Patton's waist. Logan will be sweaty and overheated, and most of his body will have its circulation cut off, and he will have to lay awake, alone and more than a bit uncomfortable, until the others stir from their deep sleep.

But for now, there is only the fluffy state between consciousness and unconsciousness, and the slowly evening breaths of the sides setting rhythm with the troll's song, and Logan—

Logan is secretly grateful for each and every one of them.

#text #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #hypothermia #cuddling #logicality #puns #my fic

444 notes · View notes

sinfulfolk · 6 years

Text

On Writing: Realistic Magic in Tim Powers & John Bellairs

LAST CALL and HOUSE WITH THE CLOCK IN ITS WALLS Tim Powers and John Bellairs

Published on John Bellairs Birthday – January 17, 1938!

In my spies+sorcery novel Wilderness of Mirrors, I’m trying to write a grounded fantasy that builds on known facts about the Cold War, the War on Terror, 9/11 and the WTC. I am attempting to construct a fantasy that feels as intricate and realistic as the spy novels of John Le Carré. I think I can write a pretty good spy plot, with gun battles, secrets passed in the dark, cryptographic codes to be broken, etc. The tricky part of the novel for me is writing the “fantasy” part, as to this point in my writerly life, I’ve written “straight” contemporary or historical fiction. I also have no desire to craft a world utterly divorced from our reality – a la J.K. Rowling, Tolkien or George R.R. Martin. Instead, I’d like to take the curtain that lies over some 9/11 related events, and simply lift it a little bit, to reveal the edge of “sorcery” behind the scenes. I want any “fantastic” elements to feel as if they are genuine to our reality, and could exist if only someone looked closely enough. So I am looking for models of how to do this effectively.

One model can be found in Tim Powers’s Last Call, a book I re-read and marked up in detail this month, specifically because I was in search of his technique of how he did magic+history in a believable way. Powers is the winner of the World Fantasy Award, and one reason that his books stand out from the general glut of fantastic fiction is that he does deep research into history, language and historical style. He also occasionally includes actual historical figures in his fantasy, but carefully written in such a way that they appear quite realistic and grounded in the period. For example, one of his historical fantasy masterworks is The Stress of Her Regard, in which Mary Shelley, Lord Byron and other poetic notables of the period are primary characters. The novel Last Call is only peripherally about the history of the gangster Bugsy Siegel and the founding of Las Vegas. Instead, it is mostly about a seemingly vagabond poker player who finds his lost step-father and has to undertake a bizarre quest back to Las Vegas, where he was abandoned as a child.

En route to Las Vegas, Scott (the vagabond), a friend, and Ozzie (the step-father) are pursued by persons unknown. They find a way to evade them, and this is where the magic enters in for the first time in the book. This is the scene I was interested in, because I found the scene very believable, but it violates every natural law I know about. I didn’t have any suspension of disbelief, because my disbelief was accounted for in the scene. Here’s the scene in a nutshell: Ozzie without much notice stops the car and asks Scott and his friend glue plastic deer whistles all over their vehicle, and put playing cards on every other surface, including the wheels. Then they have to prick their fingers and put blood spots on flags and stick the spotted flags out the window. Ozzie doesn’t even tell them what it is for, or why they are doing this. The car is a bizarre sight, and the characters share the reader’s laughter at such strange instructions.

Ozzie doesn’t explain at all what is happening, which heightens the suspense. Ozzie keeps his cards close to his chest, and instead just tells them to do these bizarre things. They follow his instructions with suspicion and hilarity (which nicely mirrors the reader’s disbelief that any of this will work). Because some of the characters share our readerly disbelief in such evident quackery, when it all does work, that fact lands on us as readers with a redoubled gravity. This makes us believe in Ozzie and in the story. Only after the scene is over, does Ozzie explain that they escaped because of these factors:

Those little plastic deer whistles [you two attached all over the car] make a complication of ultrasonic sound waves, all interfering and amplifying and damping each other, and the blood-spotted flags are a lot of organic motion… And then the main thing is the [plethora of playing] cards on the wheels, which are whizzing past the playing cards on the fenders, so…. You get a dozen new combinations of cards…. At a hasty glance, a psychic would tend to assume that there are a lot of people traveling in one vehicle (Powers 169).

As I thought more deeply about the scene, that sleight of hand in terms of withholding of knowledge really worked for me as a reader. It also was true to the sense of the story, and the concealment of fantastic elements, which is part of the plot. Why would a skilled magician or one knowledgeable in magical evasion share any of their secrets with either the reader or the other characters? If Ozzie had led with an explanation, then the “magic” of it working would have disappeared.

I experimented with re-writing the scene, and I quickly found that the best sequence was just as Powers wrote it: 1) Ozzie communicated his bizarre instructions, 2) the characters’ showed disbelief and 3) that in the end it worked, and was 4) afterwards explained later. Since Ozzie was acting in a matter of fact way in doing certain very specific activities – without explaining them – it also makes it evident that he knows precisely what he is doing (even if we don’t know), and it makes it more possible for readers to believe in his activities later on. His behavior is grounded in human reality. We don’t all go about like Hermione in Harry Potter, explaining the magic as we go along. Not explaining it makes it more magical. Withholding the explanation until later is a great plot move.

I was also struck by a similar set of bizarre instructions that have real-world grounding in John Bellairs’s classic children’s horror novel The House with the Clock in its Walls. This scene occurs in the penultimate chapter which constitutes the “final showdown.” In this scene, the three main characters – orphan Lewis Barnavelt, Uncle Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmerman – know that they are under threat and must try to discover and battle the plans of an “evil magician.” In the hands of many writers, this scene would be formulaic. The trio would engage in detective work (either through magic or via standard deduction), and then would prepare themselves for a magical battle that would involve wands, spouts of green fire and magical creatures. (One can easily imagine a J.K. Rowling magical scene like this).

However, what Bellairs does with the scene is interesting. To this point in the novel, our protagonist Lewis has established himself as a little peculiar, nerdy and unusually inventive for a 13 year old. His Uncle Jonathan is equally zany – if not more so – and is extremely disorganized. Bellairs emphasizes character over magical happenings, and makes us believe even more deeply in his world when he has Uncle Jonathan articulate how these characters have functioned throughout the novel:

We’re no good at that [logical] game. Our game is wild swoops, sudden inexplicable discovers, cloudy thinking…. Lewis, what I want you to do is this. Get a pencil and paper and dream up the silliest set of instructions you can think of. (Bellairs 158)

What follows the instructions written by Lewis is an extremely silly card game and wacky “game” that culminates in finding the “Ace of Nitwits” and the magical object that threatens them. The instructions created by Lewis is very random magic as conceived by a crazy 13 year old, and it foregrounds Lewis without giving him any special abilities. In fact, his lack of special abilities and his zany wit is what makes this chapter fun, and believable. Without Lewis being firmly established as liking these kinds of strange puzzles, the scene would never work: but with that established from chapter one, this action follows so naturally that I cannot now conceive of any other way of finishing the book. In the end, character matters more than special effects to Bellairs.

To sum up my findings on these two magical scenes, I think that two keys to writing “believable” and “grounded” fantasy that seems to be occurring in our reality are as follows: 1) Do not explain what is happening. Provide characters with specific actions that are highly specific and that they believe are “necessary” to cause the effect they want to cause. If the actions are suspect, have other characters voice that suspicion, so the reader’s perspective is embraced. Explain later, and perhaps not even then. 2) Focus on the characters and what they would naturally do. Do not insert magical behavior that does not fit the characters, their motivations, and their behavior to date.

As an addendum to my findings, I’d like to re-emphasize character. If the characters are utterly believable, and the “magic” is utterly believable to the characters themselves, it makes it easier for the reader to believe as well. Writing a fantastic scene should be an outgrowth of a character’s thought process and character development up until that point in the novel, rather than a deus ex machina that just appears or intrudes into the narrative. Writing “realistic” magic is tough, but can be done if one focuses on the basics of realistic human behavior, careful structure in scene dynamics and consistent character motivation as our guiding principles.

A literary update from NedNote.com Readers can find my books at these bookstores:

Works Cited

Bellairs, John. The House with the Clock In Its Walls. New York: Puffin Books, 1973.

Powers, Tim. Last Call. New York: Avon Books, 1992.

On Writing: Realistic Magic in Tim Powers & John Bellairs was originally published on Ned Hayes

#Horror #Storytelling #Writing #sinfulfolk #books #writing #novels #book #bookshelf #sinful-folk #Sinful Folk #novel

1 note · View note

poemofeverybodyssouls · 7 years

Text

Atlus Is Currently Hiring! Interview With "Persona" Character Designer Shigenori Soejima #DESKWATCH

2017.04.28

#DESKWATCH is a project that shines the spotlight on creators of illustrations, manga, anime, videos, music…. and their work environment. Discover how these gems of creativity are born, and what kind of tools professional creators use through photos and interviews!

Interview & article by Momoka Ito (vi) Pictures by Satopon

This time we visited Atlus, the video game studio behind groundbreaking titles such as Shin Megami Tensei, Persona and Etrian Odyssey. We were also lucky enough to have the chance to interview Shigenori Soejima, character designer for the Persona series and art director of Atlus new project Project Re Fantasy. We asked him about his illustrations and about the way he does design.

▲ Project Re Fantasy is a brand new project that is still under development. It's produced by Katsura Hashino, who also produced Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne, and character designer Shigenori Soejima tagged along.

We also heard that Atlus is looking for new staff, and we decided to give you all a chance by creating a special platform on pixiv to make your entry! In you're interested, please check the application form at the end of the article.

▲ This time we visited Soejima's workspace, a.k.a. the "P・STUDIO" floor.. At the entrance, we were greeted by Persona 4 mascotte Teddie and a vending machine.

I started to work at Atlus right after graduating. What is it like to work at Atlus?

-- I guess every video game fan already knows what Atlus is, but can you tell us something about your company? What are your most representative titles?

The most famous ones are without any doubt Shin Megami Tensei and the Persona series. Other representative titles are the Etrian Odyssey series and the most recent Catherine.

-- How did you start working at Atlus?

It was 1995. I just graduated, and Atlus had just started to produce Revelations: Persona. I started working there as a designer, but at the time the separation between tasks wasn't so harsh so I ended up doing a little bit of everything. Even pixel art.

-- Why did you choose Atlus?

It was because it wasn't such a big company at the time. (laughs) I thought if I were to enter a big company, I wouldn't have had much freedom to do whatever I pleased. On the other hand, at a company like Atlus I had many opportunities to give my contribution.

-- What software are you using mainly?

Paint Tool SAI and Photoshop.

For the part where I use my pen tablet, I use SAI. So lines, coloring... I use Photoshop mainly to adjust the colors and to add special effects. Sometimes I also use CLIP STUDIO.

-- Do you use a LCD tablet or a regular one?

I've been using a regular tablet for the longest time, 'cause I didn't like the idea of hiding my illustrations with my hand. However, I heard so many times about how great LCD tablets are that I'm thinking to get one. (laughs) I'm a creature of habit. If there's a device I like to use, I'll keep using even after it gets obsolete. Other members of the staff, though, use much newer things.

▲ His PC is a Windows 7, Intel Core i7 - 6700 32GB memory at 3.4 GHz. Soejima's favorite pen tablet is an "Intuos 3" from 10 years ago. A good workman does not blame his tools!

-- What are your must-have items?

My headphones. I use BOSE and AKG. The latter are the result of a collaboration between AKG and Persona 5.

▲ These "AKG K845BT" feature Persona 5 character Sakura Futaba.

-- Since headphones are your must-have item, I imagine you listen to a lot of music while you work!

Yes, mainly video game music. Or better, the music from the game I'm currently working for.

The atmosphere of my illustrations changes quite a lot according to what kind of music I'm listening, so I always try to get the BGM music data in advance to use it while I'm drawing.

-- I see, so you're using the BGM of the title you're working on. I'm kinda jealous of your work environment!

Creators can move freely at Atlus

-- If you're a creator, you have two choices: to work as a freelancer and to work for a company. Can you tell us the advantages and disadvantages of being an employee?

One of the advantages is that you have always people around you. If you're working as a freelancer, you always have to contact your editor via phone or chat. If you work for a company, though, everyone is already there - you just need to go to their office and you can talk to them right away.

▲ In the company's common space, we found plenty of "P・STUDIO" paraphernalia.

▲ Daiichi Production, the studio behind "Shin Megami Tensei" and "Etrian Odyssey", has a shared tatami space inside the office.

▲ The common space of Studio Zero, the studio working on"Project Re Fantasy". The layout facilitates the communication between each floor.

▲ A one-of-a-kind controller to commemorate the advent of Persona 5 sent from someone who works at Atlus USA. We need this...!

When you're a creator of any kind, it can be hard to complete a project or gather all necessary ideas by yourself. Having a group of people around you can really help!

Also, you can get all the equipment you need. If you tell someone "I need this thing for my work", they're gonna buy it for you. And I'm not only talking about hardware - they'll gather resources and whatever else you need. One of the merits of working in a company is that the environment built around you is thought for work.

However, the thing I like the most is the dynamism that working for a game company creates. Many brains mean many ideas, many illustrations, many people involved in the game. I really love this about Atlus.

The disadvantage is... Having a last train home. (laughs) There are limitations on how much we can work, so if I end up staying too late someone is gonna get angry at me.

But let's think about it. You need to learn self-management this way, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.

-- Can you tell us something more about Atlus work rules?

Core time is from 11 until 16. During that time span, you should be at the company. But since work hours are flexible, they tend not to be too strict. You can get to work early in the morning and go home 8 hours later, or you can get to the office just in time for core time, at 11 o'clock.

-- It's nice to have that kind of freedom! How many hours do you work?

When deadlines are approaching, I can work all day every day... (laughs) But basically, I work according to the rules.

-- What do you do in order to rest your eyes and hands?

I think it's really important to choose the perfect chair. My company really values a nice work environment, so everyone is usually sitting on a very nice chair.

Us designers, unlike illustrations, don't really keep drawing for hours and hours. We often look at materials and resources or have meetings. That's why I don't think the burden on our bodies is too big.

What are the limitations on character design? Joys and sorrows of group work

-- Can you tell what goes inside the head of a character designer? How can you become good at it?

"Character design" means to create the setting for a certain character, but I think that the ability to draw is a prerequisite in order to be able to convey all their characteristics.

A thing I realized when I entered this company is that even if you're good at drawing, that doesn't mean you will make a good character designer. Competitions inside the company can get pretty harsh, but sometimes it can happen that designs from people who can't draw end up being adopted. For the initial concept, stick figures are usually better than super detailed characters.

It might be hard to get good at design if you're not that good at drawing, but I'm pretty sure that "drawing skills" and "design skills" are two completely different things. I realized all these things after joining Atlus, and since then I've always been drawing to increase my skills as a designer.

-- What is the best way to increase your skills as a designer?

Of course, it's important to observe what's around you... But there's something less vague that you could do. Personally, I started from asking myself: "What's the thing that I enjoy the most?" I think when you start drawing something you're always influenced by what's popular at that time. Then, you start looking for ways to be different from the popular creators. However, you don't always get results right away. I was even scolded by my boss because I couldn't find a satisfying output, a way to be different. (laughs) He told me to just be myself and to draw what I felt like drawing. Since that moment I started actively thinking about how to create something that was different from whatever came in the past. I started to find the things I was missing. It's important to continuously try to perfect yourself, both by studying and by finding new interests.

▲ Even a successful designer like Soejima was scolded at the start of his career.

-- What's the most fun thing about character design?

To give shape to a character that has only a vague image gives me a blast every time.

Characters are not something that I make on my own, but that our team creates together. I like sharing what I made with the team, and everyone usually reacts with "Oh, so this is what this character was like!"

When I have to design a character, I start with written indications. Going from that to an actual physical image... That's the most fun that I have during my job.

-- And what's the most frustrating thing?

Since design is quite different from plain art, there are many things that I have to consider when creating a character. I have to think that that same character will be made into a 3D model and animated... And if, for example, character A and character B are brothers they should resemble each other. I have to base my drawings on character settings, and that leads to some limitations. It's very hard to respect those limitations while creating a good character.

▲ Character creation is something that various members of the staff collaborate on. It doesn't matter how small a character is, there's always much thought going into it.

-- I think that the designs for "personas" appearing in the Persona series are very cool and stylish. How are these creatures born?

The first thing that I consider is what kind of impression that persona will leave when it meets the eye of the player.

Do you want it to be cool? Scary? I mix different ingredients according to the kind of persona I want to create.

However, designs that are too easy to understand can end up resulting quite boring. I like to add elements that create a little mystery... I want the players to think "why does this persona look like this?". My intent is not only to create good looking creatures but also to make the player curious about the original setting for each of them.

-- What would you recommend to all those who're aiming for a career as an illustrator or character designer?

I think the best method to learn something is "to make it into a job". If you only do something as a hobby, you'll tend to be biased towards things you like.

By entering a company, you'll have the chance to draw both things from your specialty field and things outside of it.

When I joined Atlus I was quite confident about my skills, but I can't say the same about drawing something outside my field of interest. I remember clearly what one of my senpai said to me back then: "Soejima, you pretend like you can draw anything, but you actually can't draw at all". (laughs) So instead of working at your desk and thinking "I'd like to make this into a job one day", get out there and make it into a job. And I hope you will choose our company!

youtube

▲ Soejima drew Persona 5 character Makoto Niijima just for us. How beautiful is this!?

Atlus is currently hiring! Apply through pixiv!

-- I would like to ask you something about recruiting. What made you decide to recruit new staff?

After Persona 5 was released, the same team is considering to work on another project, Project Re Fantasy by Studio Zero, which I'm working on as an art director. Apart from that, Atlus is planning to launch a new project for Shin Megami Tensei 25th anniversary, but we don't have enough staff to cover all that...

We are especially looking for artists, and we heard that the best place to find them is a certain treasure cave called pixiv.

▲ Studio Zero, the freshly established studio that deals with Atlus new project. To stimulate further growth and to follow the tradition of existing Atlus projects, they are hiring new personnel.

-- Is this offer limited to newly graduated students?

No, we don't really care about that. You can apply even if you're in the middle of your career, or if you were a student quite a few years ago. People who are currently working as freelancers are also welcome to apply. We are looking for graphic creators to join our team at Atlus.

-- Isn't gonna be hard to get hired at a company like Atlus, that produces such original games?

Thank you for complimenting our company. However, it's not like people without original ideas can't find a job at Atlus! And it's not like you have to know anything and everything about Atlus if you want to join. If you played Shin Megami Tensei you probably have this image of Atlas as a super serious company, but rest assured that the creators and members of the staff are only serious when doing their job. (laughs) We are very passionate about creating original contents, but as a team we are pretty standard. It's a regular company.The tendency is to join everyone's forces when it comes to creating a new title. If you're interested in this creative side of the production, please apply! So if you're interested in becoming a character designer or an illustrator, we will be more than happy to have you!

-- Thank you so much! And to all artists out there who dream to work at Atlus... Please send your application using the form below!

★ ATLUS - Creators Wanted! Application Form ★

Make your dreams come true "right now", and not "some other day"!

Such a wholesome interview, the one we had with Atlus character designer Soejima! He told us that, rather than practice at your desk, it's way better to just find a job to get your skills up! Is it just a chance that Atlus is currently hiring new creators and staff? If you want to have a chance to make your dreams come true right now, don't miss this unique opportunity! #DESKWATCH checks out the inspiring desks of creators and observes as they strive to deliver the best quality work.

#Persona 5 #Shigenori Soejima #character designer #Pixivision #Deskwatch #interview #Atlus #P-Studio #Studio Zero #Project Re Fantasy #hiring #looking for artists #pixiv #long post

126 notes · View notes

northernmisery-blog · 7 years

Text

Monk(ey) Business

So, the church has ex-communicated the Monk.

Either he’s a snake, or Radrizzani has his PR head on.

Whichever way you want to look at things, Garry Monks tenure as Leeds United’s head coach is no more.

First and foremost, I absolutely hate the term “Head Coach”, but, it would appear we are going down the continental route of having too many chiefs and not enough Indians at the club and lining the structure with superfluous roles and positions, Technical Director, Director of Team Strategy, Director of Football, etc, etc, etc.

What happened to the manager having a coaching team, training the players, seeing who he wants for the team and getting the chairman to sort it?

Where did football turn into this multi-levelled three ring circus? We were paying Brian McDermott upwards of £800,000 per year and we were tight, so Derek Acorah only knows how much some of these other Championship Managers are on. These owners and chairman appoint managers on sometimes multi-million pound contracts and then expect them to just get given staff to work into their preferred methods.

Quite frankly, along with half and half scarves and plastic clappers, it’s one of the reasons so many people look at modern football with disdain.

Although the flip side of this is people like Neil Warnock, Harry Redknapp and Sam Allardyce, allegedly preferring certain players to follow them around in return for a slice of their weekly pay packet, so maybe total autocracy by a manager isn’t as nice as it sounds and we look back on the old way with rose tinted spectacles.

That aside, at Leeds United we are going to follow the continental model and we will just have to ride it out and deal with it.

We’ve had worse, we had to follow the Ken Bates model of selling all our players for cream cladding, the GFH route of buying players based on Football Manager ratings and the Massimo Cellino route of abandoned, wanton, Chivas fuelled chaos.

With Radrizzani, he seems composed. His business dealings are above board and googling his name doesn’t return stories of pistol whippings, ships with missing cargo and murdered sailors, tax evasion, embezzlement, fraud, false accounting, sexism and pages and pages of embarrassing news articles.

Radrizzani has taken the time to do his due diligence. He has pored through the accounts and the black holes. I guess we will never truly know the full extent of the Bates, GFH or Cellino eras. I imagine their accounts are very much like a Yeti hunt – exciting for five minutes, then boring as you realise someone is just playing silly buggers and messing you about with misdirection because the truth is actually non-existent.

He makes the right noises and has said already that he is not happy with the end of the season capitulation. A feeling echoed by the fans.

He has stated his desire to repurchase Elland Road – Note, he has not promised that tomorrow he is going to the bank, he has not promised he will buy it by Thursday, he has stated he wants to. That should be a given for anyone sensible taking over at Leeds United.

He’s said he isn’t happy with a losing mentality and has moved to quickly tie up the brightest prospect at the club to a four year deal, unheard of in recent years.

Andrea’s tenure started off positively – we were finally rid of the crooked lying charlatan who had dragged our club from embarrassment to embarrassment, now it was time to change, yet Garry Monk, for whatever reason, is not going to be part of it.

It’s easy to blame the bloke who has officially owned the club for three days.

It’s also easy to blame Monk, calling him a snake and louse like we tend to do when we feel betrayed or hurt. Even I have called him satsuma balls in my faux outrage. (Although Judas was ginger and he betrayed Jesus, so maybe there is something in religiously titled people hanging people out to dry in exchange for money)

There are clearly two sides to the story;

One is that Monk decided back in February, amidst his stock rising, that he would not entertain extending his contract.

Whether this was off the back of him not feeling he was backed in the January window is possible.

It is also possible that, out of work last year, he decided to work for Leeds United with a view to using the club as a stepping stone. (There’s not a chance he took the job expecting to ride out a full season under Cellino anyway, such a step was unprecedented)

The other side is Monk desperately wanted a three year deal and the club don’t want him, so messed him about with a contract offer so he walked.

Any new owner will look to do things their own way. Not many clubs have a takeover without a change of personnel. Radrizzani has been involved one way or another at Leeds United for nearly a year since he initially spoke to Cellino in May 2016 about buying the club. There were rumours Radrizzani stopped Cellino sacking Monk after 6 games. Cellinos track record lends credence to these rumours.

Maybe Monk was upset with the proposed continental structure and maybe the club feel that he wasn’t going to share the ethos.

I personally thought the initial contract extension was to drive off interest from other clubs, giving Radrizzani the opportunity to sit down with Monk and strategise. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps it was an attempt to call Monks bluff as has been claimed online.

The club claims Monks agent told them not to trigger the extension as he would not be entertaining discussing a new contract. Monks statement claims he wanted a long term strategic deal.

However, I suspect the truth lies between all of these factors.

If the club and by extension Radrizzani had truly wanted Garry Monk, they would have moved heaven and earth to keep him. If Garry Monk had truly wanted a three year deal at Leeds United, he would be sitting there today having signed a contract.

Sometimes, people just aren’t a good fit for each other. It’s why 42% of marriages in the UK end in divorce. Sometimes, just sometimes, you have to move on.

Our younger fans will not remember George Graham being given a job at Leeds when nobody would touch him after his ban from football. He immediately ditched us and went to Tottenham as soon as his stock had risen. From those ashes we inherited David O’Leary and had some of our best football memories in my lifetime, outside of 1992.

Our younger fans may not even remember Simon Grayson and his kamikaze football. Simon Grayson, who, had he been backed by the Bearded Clam Ken Bates would have had us promoted years ago and we would never have had to suffer GFH or Cellino.

They certainly won’t remember Wilko, hell, even I am too young to have seen us play under The Don in person.

These are all fondly remembered managers, and Monk, for this season, isn’t on a par with achieving anything that any of them achieved.

Monk wasn’t the be all and end all. He was the best option at the time when Cellino was looking at the likes of Karl Robinson.

At times last season, we were woeful. We were inadequate at the latter third of the season when it counted and we were very, very often lacking in a plan B, C or D when things went against us. It was masked by Chris Wood banging goals in and everyone falling in love with the likes of Bartley and Pontus.

Yes, Monk gave us our best season in ages, but, as I’ve said before with the shit sandwich analogy, it’s still a shit sandwich, even if you stick some lettuce and fancy mayo in there.

However, in the face of adversity, working for an unhinged and chemically induced crooked fraudster lunatic, Garry Monk and his team did deliver something we have not had in eons – hope.

For that, I will be grateful to Monk.

I didn’t make that clear to him when I retorted to “fuck off” in response to him issuing a statement he had blatantly had prepared weeks in advance, my reaction was that of anger. Putting it aside, I can see things in a different light.

He did give us a sliver of hope. His coaching staff and the players who put in a shift for him last season did their jobs “good”, but ultimately, not good enough.

Monk will leave with my thanks and barbed comment that he will never, ever, ever manage a club like this, with fans like this (for better or worse) who chant his name at a boxing event, who can make the earth tremble beneath his feet with the roar they generate inside a football ground.

Radrizzani will be given time to assert himself and show his intent. The fact he has no form as one of the biggest twats in football affords him this luxury.

Whoever comes in as manager or head coach, even if I don’t want them personally, will be welcomed and given time to prove they are the right person for the job.

Events this week put football into perspective – but purely from a footballing point of view, we will move on to our next head coach or manager with Radrizzanis version of Leeds United Football Club.

Unless he appoints an underqualified PE teacher who strategises with condiment pots in a Travelodge, and has a late night pissed up phonecall with a mental Michael Jackson soundalike, then all bets will be off.

MOT.

1 note · View note

trainerv · 7 years

Text

Astroforce

More on the Astroforce because someone @saki-noir was curious and I really needed to work more on them, anyhow. It’s kinda long with individual facts on each one, so I’m putting it under the cut. Subject to edits.

The Astroforce are five earth-made trains under Astrotrain’s command and care.

-At least 2 out of 3 of their alt modes were possibly based off of train models that, in reality, had been retired long before the 1980’s, when the first 2 season of G1 took place. This in mind, I imagine that the trains Astro had used to make the Astroforce were either off in a corner somewhere, waiting to be turned into scrap metal, were being preserved or were completely forgotten. With this in combination with the water damaged caused by the flood left the five a complete disaster when brought in. Dirty, damaged and uncared for, there was little hope for actually bringing them online. Then, the Decepticons found the key to vector sigma (the episode The Key to Vector Sigma part 1 actual premiered only a few episodes after Triple Takeover). Once it successfully brought the Stunticons to life from regular cars, it was used on the Astroforce because Megatron wouldn’t pass up the chance to have something Optimus doesn’t. Their bodies were still in terrible shape, but it was a start.

-While work was being done on the Stunticons on Earth, they were moved to the head Cybertron base and put under Technis’ care. It took a lot of time to get them functioning “properly” – even now they still show numerous defects and parts of them were completely outdated, but can’t be replaced without overhauling their entire frames. Plans are being made to give them proper Cybertronian bodies, but this will take some time. Until then, they are given frequent check-ups. It is done before the 20 year gap between seasons 2 and 3. Possibilities of a combiner have been thrown on the table.

-None of the members of the force have any real memory of their “lives” as actual trains. Their first memory, albeit as drones, was of Astrotrain and, in a way, they sort of imprinted on him. They follow him around and really only listened to him, at first. They can communicate with each other via a sort of Morse code that consists of blinking their lights and whistle-blowing.

-They’re much smaller than Cybertronian train-based transformers typically are, given that they’re from earth. Their robot modes are based only of the first one or two cars of their original train forms, as the rest were needed for spare parts to make some repairs or were too damaged to work with. New cargo holds for energon/weapon storage are attached to them when making rounds.

-They share their own room and enjoy a big cuddle pile when recharging Astrotrain included whether he likes it or not, telling stories of their individual jobs, and playing board games together. Some of Trackside’s stories may or may not be slightly not true

Injector is the only steam engine of the crew, her alt possibly being based off a DRG 01 1102 or possibly some form of Pendolino model (though I don’t think there are any close enough in design that were built at the time).

-She’s considered the oldest of the 5 given that she was the first to be brought online. She was frightened and overwhelmed and didn’t know who those strange people poking her where and why they were asking her all these questions. She panicked and hid behind Astrotrain, the only familiar bot in the room. After being “ordered” to let the doctors do whatever they need to do, she was more docile, though visibly nervous; her answers to questions were simple head nods or shakes and a ‘mhmm’ or ‘mm mm’. Once she was cleared, she returned to Astrotrain’s side and waited quietly for the others. Seeing them be as calm as they were by comparison, she felt embarrassed and promised to be a better example next time.

-Her boiler was the most damaged part of her (it wasn’t in the best of shape to begin with and the flood and years of not being used didn’t help) and had to be replaced with a new one. While still able to consume energon, her body is still fully capable of running solely on coal and water. Her steam engine makes her the warmest and the center of nighttime cuddle piles.

-The dual antennae on the side of her helm are very sensitive to vibration and she hates having them touched. They can make only minor movements.

-When angry or flustered, she’ll blow steam out of her chimney. She’s very sensitive about it. Don’t laugh! It’s not funny! She also has a habit of holding people’s hands when nervous.

-The metal making up her body isn’t particularly durable and needs to be checked on often, so she spends almost as much time in the med bay as Switchman does.

-What looks like a visor is actually a part of her face and can’t just be removed, though she has two optic scanners behind it, like a regular face would. She has the best vision and is capable of seeing little details and movements that might go unnoticed by others.

-She feels sympathy for any abandoned trains or other vehicles she sees. While she can’t take every one home and get them fixed up like she was, she does quick sketches of how they look then redraws them all fixed up when she has the time later. She keeps them in a little secret drawer and lets no one see them.

-Given her ability to run on alternative fuels, she’s spent the most time on the tracks of the 5. It also helps that she is the fastest. She – and sometimes the others – helps bring energon from mines to bases on earth.

Switchman was the second. Possible Alt: ETR 401 [which had actually been in use at the time] or the M-10000 [which would be the oldest model on here]

-He was much calmer than Injector was when brought online, though opted to stay close to her and Astrotrain. He watched curiously as the doctors worked on the others, though he’d pretend not to be when asked if he wanted to get a better look.

-During his stay in the med bay, an issue with his back strut was found, causing him to occasionally slouch and minor pain. A brace was put on to help it, but he finds it uncomfortable and hard to transformer with, so he’ll loosen it or will take it off completely when he’s out. He’s slightly taller than Rail Grinder when standing straight.

-Like Injector, he’s actually very insecure. The others can run and jump and do things so easily, and he’s in the back, having trouble doing sometimes the simplest physical tasks given his bad back. He uses most of his energy trying to stay up straight and ignore the pain, but he tires himself out quickly.

-He finds himself fascinated by how things work, and will watch curiously as other do things.

-Being the passive type who prefers to watch and listen, he tends to remember the little things people say and do. Example, he knows that when Injector’s antennae stick up and/or twitch, she’s about to have one of her anxiety attacks and will hold her hand to calm her down. If one of the others is closer, he’ll signal them to do it.

-He enjoys movie nights with a few of the other cons. He’s fond of film noir and mystery movies. He usually figures out who-done-it before long, but enjoys them none the less. He also has a small collection of mystery novels.

-He can and will sleep just about anywhere. Don’t underestimate his ability to find a nice groove or hole in the middle of a battlefield to rest in. He’s also the best cuddler. Watch out when he gets tired.

-I’m aware he’s the only one without a headlight. I have no excuse. I forgot it.

Rail Grinder is the third and has the same alt mode as Switchman.

-Rail Grinder was the calmest, letting the doctors do whatever to him. Nothing bad happened to Switchman and Injector, so what did he have to worry about?

-The doctors weren’t too fond of having him around, though, given he wouldn’t stop touching everything and asking questions. He almost took off one of the nurse’s hands messing with a laser scalpel.

-Testing showed most of his body is surprisingly sturdy; however, the joints are very weak. Too much heavy physical activity at once can result in, at worst case, the breaking of a joint and the possible loss of a limb. A bit of rest during work and constant maintenance is all that’s really needed prevents this until his new body is ready.

-He stays with the Cybertron crew going around and helping everyone in the base. He hangs around with the grunts and “drones” (like the vehicons), mostly, having a good chat and doing menial tasks, like unloading energon cubes. He can carry quite a lot, as it turns out, and likes to paint things on the vehicons to help tell them apart.

-Second to Switchman, he spends the least amount of time in alt mode.

- He’s a curious child and can’t help himself from doing whatever his impulses tell him to. The world is new and there’s so much to explore and do. While his enthusiasm for life and living is much more subdued than the likes of High Rail, he’s made a habit out of trying everything at least once. Often the two will go out and find trouble to get into something interesting to do or he’ll partner with Trackside on one of her schemes.

- His catchphrases ‘it’ll be fine’ and ‘I got this’ have gotten him and others into more trouble than you’d believe. He’s not the master of everything he believes he is, but he tries. He doesn’t always succeed, but, still, he tries.

-He’s one of the few mechs, if there are any, who can handle gross, squishy, human gore (he doesn’t enjoy it, but can stomach it) and stuff and loves horror movies, black/dark comedies especially. No one gives him the remote at movie night, anymore; not after the Zombieland incident. He also enjoys slapstick and likes most comedies in general. He’s a big fan of Groucho Marx and the Three Stooges.

High Rail is the fourth. Her and Trackside’s alt mode are based off of the Pioneer Zephyr. [I’m retconning some things from my 8-facts post]

-High Rail was the most eager to get out of the med bay and get to living, upon hearing all the great things being explained to her and the others. It took a while to get her to stop bouncing and sit still for her checkup. Once cleared, she practically ran out of the med bay. She wouldn’t stop asking questions – much to everyone’s annoyance – and ran ahead of the group, touching everything they passed and greeting they met. No one knows where this energy came from, but it’s there.

-While her vision is less than perfect, the sensory organs hidden under the series of finials under her helm are highly sensitive. She can hear even the faintest of whispers from several feet away. She’s highly aware of other’s EM fields and can become overwhelmed when around too many other mechs. When this happens, the finials clench up to lessen the effects. Conversely, when under-stimulated, they’ll puff up in an attempt to pick up any sort of feedback. It’s pretty adorable. She, like Switchman, can tell when Injector is going to have one of her attacks, but is much less subtle about the matter and will try to talk to her to calm her.

-In fact, subtle is one of the many things High Rail is not. She wears her emotions on her figurative sleeves and doesn’t understand when people try to hide them or when they can’t tell how others are feeling as well as she can, sometimes forgetting her own hypersensitivity to others’ emf is an anomaly.

-She’s not particularly sensitive about her single optic, but will become offended if it’s mentioned as being anything odd or unusual and, naturally, her siblings will defend her. There’s nothing wrong with her face at all; she’s beautiful and they will fight you.

-She spends the most amount of time in alt mode of the five. Usually she’s seen alongside (or just behind) Injector on deliveries around earth if she’s not racing Trackside to see who’s faster. So far, Trackside has her beat 10-13. She wants her new body to be faster than ever.

-She’s the only one who knows of Injector’s hobby and has tried, more than once, to get her to show the others and while out on her own routes, will takes pictures of broken down vehicles for Injector to draw. She also takes photos of other things that capture her interest while she’s at it.

-She strongly dislikes high grade as the resulting overcharge messes with her senses and confuses her.

-She’s a sucker for sappy ‘kids’ movies and anything that pulls at the heartstrings.

Trackside is the youngest of the crew, but only by so much, so don’t mention it. She shares her alt mode with High Rail.

-Trackside was very vocal of her dislike of being touched and questioned by the doctors and would complain and push them away before being told to knock-it-off. She put on a fake smile and begrudgingly let them work. Once finished, she was more than happy to get away, but not before swiping a few extra treats that are usually given to the good little bots after checkups. She shared some with the others, but not all of it.

-Her body is surprisingly sturdy, but can cease up from time to time, causing her joints to tighten and making movement difficult. Constant lubrication and bolt loosening are required.

-Her large, flat optics aren’t just for show. Similar to Injector’s, they’re very adept at picking up movement. This – combined with her quick reflex and fast processor –makes her great at both firing projectiles and taking out moving targets. Of course, she uses this more for firing paint balls at people via slingshot than doing anything on a battlefield.

-Meeting Uncles Blitzwing and Octane for the first time, she questioned whether or not she had “to pretend to like these ones, too”, though she claims she was only joking and does she look like the type to lie?

-Of the five, she’s probably the most cunning, or, at the very least, the most likely to take advantage of any given situation. If it means getting something she wants, she’s more than willing to play dirty and doesn’t get why her siblings (who know her well enough not to be caught in her lies) don’t more often. Sure, she’s the cute one, but they’re not too bad. She tends to stick closer to Octane after having once assisted him in one of his lies and being called his ‘favorite’.

-Unlike her favorite uncle, though, she’s not afraid to be out on the battle field; in fact, of the 5, she’s the most likely to deck someone in the jaw for insulting her family. Only she can do that. She also has an interest in baseball and has a killer swing, something most anyone who knows her well enough, knows not to be on the wrong end of.

-She is a member of a Deception sports club, one that started up recently. A few of the cons had gotten into earth sports after having seen them on tv or while out on earth and decided it would be fun to give a few a try. It’s more a way to boost morale and practice team-building, something the cons could use.

-Trackside’s name comes from the actual term, Trackside, but is also a play on the phrase “side track”/”side-tracked”; fitting given her tendency to distract others while pulling pranks. I’ll be honest, that was an accident, but it works, so…

9 notes · View notes