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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

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Essays in Existentialism: Plus One, Ch. 2

Previously on Plus One

It oscillated every other minute between being an amazing idea, but also being the worst idea of all time, and Lexa was mostly exhausted of bouncing back and forth. It might be easier, she decided, if she just got herself on board with it being a good idea, but a deep, gnawing hole seemed to manifest itself in her gut at the very thought of seeing her ex.

As she went through the motions of finishing the day, of doing inventory because it was Wednesday, Lexa tried not to distract herself with the thoughts of her impending trip. In just forty-eight hours, she’d be face to face with Costia, who she hadn’t seen in months, who she avoided before occasionally running awkwardly into each other at mutual friends’ events. She’d come face to face with her ex who was getting married.

And she was going to do it with a complete stranger on her arm.

With a heavy sigh, Lexa tossed her clipboard on her tiny desk in the storage closet and plopped down in the squeaky chair, tipping it back with a wail. Her sister was the worst.

It was quiet in the shop, closed for just a handful of hours, Lexa always took a day to inventory and repair the damage of the week. She enjoyed the late evening work, when her workers were gone, and the shop was empty and full of dreams. No one knew how the cabinets stayed so clean, or how the scratches on table tops got sanded and fixed, or how the wobbly table by the window was miraculous cured one day, or how the ceiling fans got dusted, just that it all happened, and Lexa was off, meaning she didn’t come in until at least ten, the following morning.

But Lexa sat in the chair and let her brain do the same mental gymnastics it always seemed to do in the new quiet she found herself craving. She opened her laptop and ignored the awaiting spreadsheet, and instead opted to look over the answer Clarke had given her to the “Know your partner” quiz Clarke googled and made them both do. A mix of basic information and Newlywed Game style innuendos, Lexa filled hers out after a bottle of wine and anxiously waited for Clarke’s.

That was what started the daydreaming. She scrolled through Clarke’s answers and furrowed, doing her best to memorizing all that she could, as if she’d be tested on it all, as if it’d be impossible to believe she could be happy with someone like Clarke.

And when those thoughts started to seep into her brain, Lexa leaned back again and dug the tips of her fingers into her eyes.

In a week it’d be over.

And with that and a deep, heavy sigh, Lexa looked at the screen again and went about learning Clarke.

She started professionally, of course, looking at her corporate page and resume, because this was, if not anything, simply a business transaction and Lexa thought it was easier to parse a person if she didn’t actually have to fall for her.

A graphic designer at Anya’s firm, Clarke held accolades and a long list of references. The link to her work showed a wide range of commercial campaigns and a certain amount of talent evident by her list of upcoming projects. A graduate of a small, private, liberal arts university, her academics leaned heavily scientific, which was a surprise until Lexa read some of the answers in the survey about a degree in physics given up for art.

Lexa promised that she wouldn’t have looked at Clarke’s Instagram if Clarke hadn’t requested her first. She wasn’t someone who lurked, or at least she thought she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be someone who snuck around, digging through someone’s past, analyzing every filter and caption like a private investigator. But then Clarke appeared.

And there were pictures of Clarke with friends getting drinks on a rooftop. And then the one with her laughing and baking. Or the Christmas party where she was on a corporate Santa’s lap, smiling so wide her eyes were shut. Despite herself Lexa found herself smiling along with the girl in the pictures. The one who went hiking with a pack of dogs, and the one who seemed to always be eating something. The one who had a lot of friends and enjoyed making them smile and laugh. The girl who posted storie about her morning run, and the girl who seemed to have a healthy work life balance.

Lexa closed the webpages and stared at her inventory for exactly two seconds before curiosity won again and Lexa started looking at Costia’s account. There were the standard pictures of her pre-wedding planning. There was Costia working out. There was her new bride-to-be, happy and smiling at a gift for her birthday.

And then a throwback that made Lexa’s stomach drop as she stared at a familiar image of Costia smiling in a bikini on a beach. It was from the last trip they took. Lexa was the one behind the camera.

Three weeks after that picture was taken, Lexa walked in on Costia and a girl in the middle of the afternoon. Right in their own bed. Only to then discover it’d been going on for months. And it wasn’t the first. And then, Lexa didn’t remember much except that she moved into the apartment above her coffee shop and woke up one morning alone on sheets that weren’t familiar, in a room full of boxes.

It seemed even more difficult to start inventory after that shot to the gut.

But her phone went off, and Lexa leaned back in her chair after shutting the laptop again, wondering if that sinking feeling ever went away when it came to someone you love, or loved, or once loved, even for a moment. She didn’t have anything to compare it to, and she didn’t have any idea what love really was.

It felt like a deep wound was scratched open, the scab pulled back, and a burning numbness gnawing at the bottom of her spine. It felt like it would swallow her whole, and Lexa hated, more than anything, giving anyone the power to do anything as such over her.

Hey! Do you think this will go with your outfit?

An image came next, of Clarke in a dressing room wearing a very pretty dress, with very messy hair with her tongue sticking out. Lexa didn’t notice the gnawing feeling disappear.

We don’t have to match completely.

We do! Don’t you know how to date?

Not really.

Another picture of another dress came a moment later. Clarke was pretty. She was happy and silly and kind. It felt oddly normal, for as crazy as the whole scheme actually was.

I like that one, Lexa wrote, making sure to add a heart-eyed emoji to emphasize her point. Maybe that was flirting. Maybe she was allowed. She definitely needed more rules.

Good, I do too. It matches your tie, you know? And these heels will still leave you a little taller than me.

Sounds good to me!

Kind of excited. I guess I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow.

I’ll be the one at the bar.

I’ve heard it’s possible to find your soulmate at the airport. Something about the crossing of paths and time and space.

If my soulmate is a bottle of wine, then I reckon I might.

A love story for the ages.

Lexa smiled once more at her phone before tossing it to the side and letting her head drop to the desk. With a groan she growled into her hands and broke it down. She just needed to make it seventy-two hours. That was it. She could sleep for about twenty of those. She could drink for another twenty or more, if she really tried.

But this was it. This was the end.

And regardless of the weight of everything else, there was something satisfying about knowing it was almost over.

XXXXXXXXXX

The airport was absolutely teaming with bodies and people, weaving their way through the swelling crowds, loading and unloading the terminals at a constant, steady thumping rate, so regular one could set a watch to the heartbeat of the building.

Clarke adjusted her bag on her shoulder and tapped the ticket against her thigh as she moved through the security line. The nerves were coming for some reason. That was why she was at the airport three hours before the flight. She was anxious and needed a stiff drink and a few moments to catch her breath. She needed to escape the whirlwind she’d allowed herself to create.

Carefully, she made her way through the airport, checking the boards and finding her way to a seat in the empty waiting room. Not even an attendant waited at the kiosk.

Once again, she let herself awkwardly scroll on her phone, learning everything she could about her future date and weekend plans.

Lexa was nearly non-existent online. She didn’t have any pictures of herself. She rarely posted anything on her personal account, and when she did, it was just a book or a coffee or from a trip. She wasn’t one to enjoy being the center of attention, but when it came to her shop, she made sure to post almost daily, highlighting her employees and their recommendations, she made share to highlight events, she made sure to be as active as possible.

Anya had already warned Clarke that her sister was devoted to her work. She’d poured all of her effort into being successful and part of the community, and Clarke admired it, she just wished that there was more for her to see.

And so, once more, she flipped back to the long line of questions they’d filled out before giving up and gazing out the window at the planes coming and going.

For a moment, she allowed herself to think that she was doing something nice and good. It was an act of charity. It was the shake up Clarke needed and was selfishly trying to package as benevolent.

“You beat me, and I’m usually the first one here for a flight,” Lexa observed, walking up to Clarke, stealing her from her reverie.

“I like airports. Just waiting for true love to stroll up and introduce themselves.”

Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets, her bag balanced on her shoulder as she cautiously looked around, surveying the empty terminal slowly. Clarke watched her look around, smiled at the innocence of it. Enjoyed the way she ran her hand through her hair, mussing it up a bit and tossing it to another side.

“No one likes airports,” Lexa shook her head before taking the seat beside her.

“I do. They’re romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“You can get onto a plane, and a few hours later, you’re hundred of miles away, and it’s different weather, and it’s a different time zone. You can go to sleep in a different state. How can you not be romantic about that.”

“It’s a tin can filled with recycle air.”

“But there are peanuts.”

That did it. Lexa cracked a smile to herself and relaxed a little.

“I was going to be the first one here. Surprise you with coffee, but you beat me to it.”

“You are quite a good girlfriend. Someone clearly trained you well.”

Lexa shook her head, somewhat bashful, somewhat reserved. There was always something right there, just below the surface, obfuscated by a kind of resolve to never give anything away, not at any price. Clarke read it between words in their texts and emails, a glaring finality in the simple pixel of a period.

“Can I get you a coffee? Two creams, two sugar right?”

“You don’t have to--”

“It’s early and I’m trying to be charming. Allow me to somewhat repay you for this whole endeavour.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, darling.”

With the term of endearment, Lexa nodded, grinning into her chest as she stood and made her way across the terminal in search of sustenance. Clarke watched her take out her phone, texting her sister no doubt.

Once more, Clarke resumed the digging on her own, scrolling on her own phone at old pictures on Lexa’s profile. She was ready for fun, and she was ready to crack at that facade.

“I don’t know if this will help,” Lexa sighed as she sat down. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Oh this won’t be good for me either,” Clarke said as she took a sip. “I’m a fairly nervous flyer.”

“And yet you let me get us both coffee.”

“You made a good point, and I’m prepared to be paid back all weekend.”

With another grin, Lexa leaned back, her arm going on the back of the chair that Clarke inhabited, naturally, with ease, with a level of comfort.

“Are you ready to tell me the story?”

“Which one is that?” Clarke turned to look at her date, returned from an absent moment.

“How we met.”

“How we met,” she nodded, her smile bordering on mischievous. “That’s simple. Don’t you remember? It was a very blustery Tuesday, and I was trying to escape the wind and rain. I almost tripped coming into your coffee shop, but you happened to be sweeping, and were kind enough to catch me.”

“You’re severely overestimating my reflexes.”

“Fine. I ran you over and we both ended up on our asses in the middle of the coffee shop. Coffee everywhere.”

“Sounds pretty likely.”

“And I knew right there, I was hooked. Those eyes, all angry and annoyed at me for not looking where I was going, despite my persistent defense that I’d been assaulted by the weather.”

“Why do I have to be the angry one?”

“Wouldn’t you be though?” Clarke returned, daring her to be contradicted.

“Maybe,” Lexa agreed over the lid of her cup, fretting with it nervously.

“So I crashed into you, and you bought be a coffee. I turned up every day after that until I finally asked you out. You took longer than I would have liked to answer me, but I accepted it anyway, and we’ve been madly in love ever since.”

“And when was this?”

“About eight months ago.”

“How’s it going so far?”

“Splendidly. I’ve already met your sister, who it happens that I work with, which is super convenient for everyone.”

Quietly, Lexa sat there, going over the story, going over all of the past eight months of apparent bliss in her head. Clarke watched her furrow before softening, her eyes not seeing, but rather looking through the window as a plane took off and another landed. The softening of her features was soon met with a perplexion, a slight, gentle contortion of the brow and the lips, a tightening as a kind of confusion overtook the ease of the entire story.

“Is it that easy?” Lexa asked quietly, turning her head toward her date. Clarke cocked her head, waiting for more. “Is all of it… just… a wind? Waiting for someone to just ask you out? Is it that easy? Does that happen to people?”

“It can. How does anything happen in the world? It just… does. The universe is just a series of things happening, all of the time, right?”

“But is it that easy?”

To her credit, Clarke thought about it. She flexed her jaw and took a deep breath before slowing letting it go as she wondered if it really was.

“I don’t know. Maybe it can be.”

“How?”

“I guess there has to be a balance to making things happen and letting things happen.”

“I don’t know if I’m good at either of those things,” Lexa confessed. She sat up straighter a moment later, afraid of her honesty, and surprised more by how easily it came out.

“I think you can be.”

“That’s probably too kind.”

“We’ll see.”

Clarke rubbed Lexa’s shoulder, rubbed the middle of her back between her shoulder blades until she reached the collar of her shirt, where she massaged her neck. She tensed before relaxing, and Clarke didn’t stop, just rubbed there gently, slowly until she knew it was enough and she trailed her palm back toward the seat.

It was right there, they just didn’t know it.

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mcrmadness · 3 years

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Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the latest Farin&Bela pencil drawing.

Aka the one that’s also my icon, even when that was a big risk to take because normally I start hating the photos I have once drawn, especially if I have failed miserably. This is how the drawing itself turned out:

ATTENTION: The original post about that drawing, with better image, behind this link.

This post is solely about the process itself with lots of pictures and also plenty of gifs, because I promised to do one if people would like to see that and I got some comments saying that they’re looking forward for that. So, here’s now that post!

For starters I have to apologize for the terrible quality that is the photos. I used my phone camera only and never thought about posting them, I just took them as a reference for myself and to show the progress to a friend and only after finishing the drawing I noticed that the angle of the camera causes a huge impact on the perspective of the drawing, so I sometimes might have done useless work when I thought some perspective was wrong when it was actually the photo that was wrong and not my work! I mean, take a look at these photos of the finished piece:

You see that? I realized this when I took maybe the second photo of the Farin sheet and looked at it and couldn’t believe my eyes because I didn’t remember drawing his torsto THAT small! And then I looked at the drawing and was like “wtf???” because it looked nothing like in the photo and then it hit me...

Also, another thing that I learn was that I might need to pay more attention to the perspective of the whole thing also because when I draw, I sit at the table so I am constantly seeing the drawing from my perspective instead of looking at it from above so that’s probably also going to affect the way I draw. I try to keep that in mind in the future so I can avoid redrawing things again and again just because my perspective is different than the reference photo’s.

Also the giant forehead of Farin’s in the photo on the right might have caused me to laugh a bit too much but anyway, let’s continue~ Or more like: let’s start for real this time.

Here’s the reference photo to y’all:

What I did in photoshop was to draw a line between them to see how I can divide the photo on two A4 papers. I had been thinking about this photo for some time already because it’s one of my favorites (but now I just feel cringy looking at it after I have drawn it... goddamnit!), and I got this idea that I could try drawing it on two papers in case I fuck up so I can start over or try again without having to do twice the work! Which was actually a good decision because this was the first version of Farin:

And it was awful. I also realized I had never drawn Farin’s face from he front. I have drawn him before from the side a few times but maybe once it came out actually good so that was why I decided to do the 2 paper method - because I knew it was not going to be an easy job! Bela is relatively easy to draw so I knew already that I would not have too many problems with that one.

I struggled with Farin’s eyes the most, at first.

It took me a while to figure out how to do that white line in his lower lid. Keep in mind that this was my first face portrait in over 10 years so I was very, very rusty and I just didn’t remember how to draw like anything anymore. (The photo is tilted because Bela’s face is a bit tilted and my hand can’t draw anything that is not straight [lol] so I have to rotate the photo in order to even draw the sketch of Bela’s eyes.)

So I took my sketchbook and tried to do some eyes...

I was still struggling so much here until I remembered about blending. And I didn’t have my hopes high but grabbed the eyeshadow applicators (my fave tool for blending) anyway, and switched to my other sketchbook in case the paper was the issue and:

Blending. It was all about blending! So with that in mind, I realized I can continue and I don’t need to do these in my old way, everything doesn’t have to have a lineart done but some of the job is done not with the pencils but with the eraser.

Anyhow, the previous Farin looked really bad and was too big as well so I just discarded that and started a new sheet because the old lines were not coming off properly anymore. I don’t remember if this is the old face or new but I think this might still be the old one:

Yes it definitely is the old because look at those lines! This is the new sheet:

And in the photo you can see one of my pencils - I use Derwent Graphic pencils, it’s a 12 pencil set with very soft pencils, starting with H, F and HB and ending to 9B. With this one I used F, HB, B, 2B, 5B, 7B and 9B. The white pencil is actually my new love aka the eraser pencil Koh-I-Noor Hardmuth. It’s amazing, I recommend! I just didn’t order 10 new ones this other day. I actually used about 1,5 full eraser pencils on this drawing alone so that’s why 10.

Here’s a “little” gif of the process on Farin:

I felt crazy when I went for the shirt, and I felt like I was going crazy MEANWHILE drawing it but in the end I did it and I’m super proud of it!

Below is the reference photo, it was pain in the ass to follow all those lines with my eyes and try to find what was I drawing and where was I but I think I did good. That was a fun challenge.

Okay so, when I was done with the new lineart, I decided to go for the shading and blending because that’s what really makes the drawings to pop. I started with the left (his right, my left) side of Farin’s face because I’m right-handed, and in the first photo I had done just the left (right) eye and mouth and nose, but in the second there’s also the other eye done already:

Keep in mind this was not the last time I drew the eyes. Not even close.

Something was off with the right (left) eye so I had to do that one again and I noticed that when you blend but haven’t erased and cleaned it yet, it looks like a black eye :DDD So here’s the before and after images of that cleaning. (Cleaning = I draw, blend, erase, draw and blend more when needed and then erase again, and repeat this as many times as I need until it starts to look ready to my eye.)

So here Farin was “finished” but if you still remember the final piece or compare it to it, you might notice it looks quite different. And you’re right. But more about that later, because at this point I started to work on Bela.

It actually started really well - I also had to do the whole lineart again because it did not match the size of “finished” Farin. I don’t remember if this is the first or second eye but when I had drawn his eye for the first time, I noticed it was not in line with Farin so I had to redraw it. A gif of the progress:

What’s that brown paper I’m using, you may ask? Well I noticed that people have some sort of paper on top of their art to keep it from smudging and I have no clue what that is so here’s my poor artist recommendation: baking paper! I tested it and it works (if you just remember to keep it under your hand, that is...) so that is, in fact, baking paper! :DD

I have drawn Bela’s face a few times before and he’s just so much easier to draw. In fact I used 4-5 days on Farin but I managed to start and finish (this version of) Bela just in one day. And that means that out of 12 hours (because I literally used the whole day for drawing) I used maybe like... 5h or something on Bela. That’s how much easier he really is to draw.

I don’t know wtf is wrong with Farin’s face but he’s extremely difficult to draw and I’m not the only one who has been saying this. I guess he just looks so regular but still unique enough to be difficult to draw. Bela then again has features that are very unique and very... caricature-like? I mean that just by drawing his nose or chin you can make a comic book Bela look exactly like himself, and with more realistic style his eyes already do a lot, but Farin’s really the opposite. My comic book version of Farin is literally the most basic version I can draw, it’s how I draw those characters and the only thing that makes him look himself is the hair, and his nose in a side profile. So I think that’s why it’s so difficult to draw him because he doesn’t look too regular but still regular enough to make is a very challenging task to do properly.

So yeah, the same day as I started working on Bela, I was also “finished” with the drawing:

Also look at how different it looks like from this perspective:

With the reference photo open in photoshop and I don’t understand how Bela looks more like himself in my drawing than in the photo. Also when I showed the WIP to my brother, he said that I somehow had succeeded at making Farin look more like Farin than what he does in the photo even. It’s weird.

But we were still far from finished. I was going to use the fixative on this soon but it just kept snowing the whole week so I couldn’t so every time I walked past the drawings, I stopped to fix this and that. For days I kept telling myself “I’m done, I can’t do more than this, I can’t do better than this.” and considered the drawing finished but still kept fixing things. Every time I was “done” with the other drawing, I saw something to fix in the other one and once that was done, I felt like the first one wasn’t as good and had to fix something from it too. And that led to a cycle where the other drawing was always better than the other and the worse one needed to be fixed. In the end I was hating the whole process and myself and my skills and I was already ready to abandon this whole thing and call it a day and never ever show it to anyone “because I cannot draw”. The photo above, here’s a list of things I redrew after that:

Bela’s eyes, the right (left) one at least twice.

Bela’s nose.

Bela’s mouth a couple of times.

Farin’s eyes x588045028520

And a list of things I kept fixing and fixing:

Bela’s chin.

Bela’s neck shadows.

Bela’s hairline.

Farin’s whole face was tilted so I tried to fix that.

Farin’s face was too wide, which meant also partially redrawing the ear.

Farin’s hair was too long and wide too.

Farin’s nose.

Farin’s mouth might be the only thing I drew only once and I’m actually still extremely proud of how it came to be. I did the lips solely with blending so that was super exciting to notice how I can use it for drawing and don’t need the pencils for everything!

During Bela’s eyes and nose and mouth especially I was hating myself so much and I felt like I was taking the risk of ruining the whole thing and a few times I was certain that was what I had just done too, until I somehow was able to save it again. But because of that, I wasn’t able to make Bela’s mouth any lighter anymore, the color wasn’t just coming off the paper so had to use what was there and make it look like it’s how it’s supposed to be, too.

Here’s a gif about those changes on Bela - the first one has the old eyes and nose, the others have minor changed on the nose and mouth:

(The blacks probably don’t get any blacker in reality, I did add more color to it all the time but mainly it’s just the lighting and my phone camera changing the brightness.)

I did the final details on his nose without even using the reference photo anymore. The photo didn’t seem to make any sense anymore at all so I was just using my mechanical pencil and the blending tool and eraser to make is look better. To my eye it looked more like a very flat nose with a big tip of the nose and he doesn’t have a flat nose and I tried to get rid of that illusion. I still feel like it makes him look bit weird but I’m not entirely sure how. Maybe it was because of my improvisation, idk...

So, Bela was then finally finished for the last time. In the Farin piece his left (right) eye had been bugging me the whole time and I didn’t want to touch it but still I felt like I have to do something about it because it was bugging me way too much. I then figured I could draw the eye line by line and take a photo of it each time to see if it looks right already or not, maybe I could then avoid doing all the phases before I was sure what to think about it. I mean, now the only way to see if it was correct was to draw e.g. an eye from start to finish, I couldn’t see from just the lineart or unblended eye if it was in the right spot etc. And here’s that progress on a gif:

The gif about only the eye would look so nice if Tumblr didn’t make the gifs so HUGE - this one is actually only 300px or 400px or something:

Apparently I also wasn’t happy with the other eye because:

But good thing is: I really enjoy drawing eyes. I love seeing them to “come alive”, my favorite part was to eraser a bit of the color on the iris to make them look like they are actually shiny! It feels like something so small to do and yet it makes a huge impact on the drawing!

And here’s yet another gif of the whole Farin sheet with all of the changes, including the last changes that made his head narrower, and less tilted and more in line. Look at the left side of his head especially to see that:

I can also see his nose changing between the first few photos. I keep forgetting about that but yeah, I also fixed that a little at some point.

And last but not least, the whole drawing in some sort of a timelapse gif:

Last two are the same but just a photo and the scan of the finished drawing. I still keep seeing things I would do differently but no can do, I already used fixative on it, also to keep myself from obsessing with it any more :D And to use it as a study of some sort. I have never been able to draw a perfect pencil drawing and this isn’t one either. I probably never can draw perfect drawings from references.

I do enjoy the whole shading and blending process, so much so that when I was editing these photos, I just wanted to start drawing something so bad but I also figured that I start to lose motivation when I get to the point where everything should be finished but I just can’t make it perfect. Like the current WIP I have, all I should do is to get the proportions and perspective and the lines of their faces correctly and I would be ready but it feels more like a superpower some people possess and I’m not one of those. I don’t know what is it but I just feel that I cannot see. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can’t see what I try to do and somehow keep drawing everything the wrong way. Just like in this post’s drawing too. There’s still things that are wrong and I know what it is but I don’t know how to solve it. My hands just don’t listen to me and they can’t do what I think they should. I also think the reason I cannot draw perfect copies of photos is because you can always see my “handprint” in them. If I copy a photo, it will look like a photo and not like a drawing made by me. So I believe that in my drawing there’s always a part of me visible and I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not. On bad days it’s not a good thing, obviously. On good days? Well I guess it’s good then because it just means I have my own style which I really should appreciate. But I wish I had my style only when I want it to be visible, but I can’t control it. Just like I cannot write text by hand that would look like it was written with a computer, so I guess I should just try to get used to it, no matter how much it’d bug me sometimes.

#mcrmadness draws #mcrmadness draws: behind the scenes #dä fanart #die ärzte

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edorazzi · 4 years

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It’s the post everyone’s been waiting for!

It’s taken a little while for me to get around to this, but it’s worth it for being able to make a full reaction post. This is really long so I’ll put it under a cut, but check it out for my complete scene-by-scene reaction of Miraculous’ “Felix” episode! (´∀｀)♡

Okay, I’ve been putting this off for days now so it’s time to finally get to it. I’m comfy and undisturbed and have my supplies ready to go.

I know next to nothing about what I’m going into. I’ve seen a little bit here and there because some people haven’t tagged their content properly, but I haven’t watched either of the trailers. I haven’t even looked directly at the images of Felix which have been going around. I’ve tried to stay as blind as possible, so as a result I’m pretty excited but also very anxious. I’ve taken two beta blockers today and I’m considering taking a third.

I usually liveblog episodes on our Ladybug PV Discord server (message me for an invite!) but this time I’m making a proper post out of it. I’ll be typing up my reactions as I go then cleaning everything up a little bit afterwards. I think it’s the first time I’ve done something like this on my blog so here goes!

- “Script: Thomas Astruc” NO. HE REALLY COULDN’T JUST STEP AWAY FROM THIS EPISODE GRACEFULLY, COULD HE. HE HAD TO GET HIS HANDS DIRTY. I’m not going to say “fuck this man” but, you know, identical sentiments. I’m opening my chocolate bar.

- God, Emilie looks more like ET every time I see her. Such an awkward model.

- Oh but wait, Sébastien Thibaudeau was on the script? That does actually give me some hope! Next to Zag himself he’s the only writer on this mess of a show I trust. HE FIXED WAYHEM, CAN HE DO FELIX A SOLID TOO? PLEASE. PLEASE SÉBASTIEN OL BUDDY OL PAL OL FRIENDA MINE

- Does Gabe have anything else to say to his wife other than monologuing his Miraculous plan over and over? They say people in comas can still hear things but Emilie’s probably double unconscious from how boring her husband is.

- DON’T LIKE THAT KNIFE SOUND EFFECT FROM THOSE RINGS. Am I supposed to find it sweet that Gabe’s taking such good care of their wedding bands or is he about to use them for evil? Also where’s Felix.

- ADRIEN SWEETHEART. I maintain that it’s weird to have a statue of your wife/mother/self in your own garden but it kills me that he’s just sitting there in front of it like a lost kitten.

- “Of course, someone will get you right away.” IS THAT FELIX. WAS SHE ON THE PHONE TO FELIX. WHERE’S MY SON, NATHALIE HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON

- That wide-eyed look Adrien turns up towards the window is killing me even more. I’M SO SAD. I see he also hasn’t noticed he’s sitting in the middle of a giant butterfly circle, unless he’s so used to it being Gabe’s logo that he’s just not paying it any mind. When was this all built? Has Gabe always used a butterfly motif even before he got his Miraculous and it was just a great coincidence, or did he commission this whole garden area after Emilie went missing? I guess you could pass it off as eccentricity but in the real world that would be a HUGE red flag that Gabe murdered her. I dunno man.

- DON’T WAVE AT HIM LIKE THAT, NATHALIE. YOU RATTED HIM OUT IN 5 SECONDS IN THAT THEORETICAL FUTURE WHERE YOU DISCOVERED HE WAS CHAT NOIR. YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT THIS BOY. >:V

- “It’s been one year.” HAS IT? Hasn’t Adrien been at school for at least a year now? Didn’t his mom vanish two years prior to that?! Maybe she’s talking about how long Gabe has been fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir but knowing this show’s messy timeline it could be anything. WHERE’S FELIX.

- That’s the song from Chat Blanc! Was that something his mom taught him? OH NO, I’M EVEN SADDER NOW. This is what I mean about Sébastien’s writing, we’d never get this kind of focus on Adrien from Garbage Man Astruc. This kind of character exploration does wonders for ML whenever it’s brought up so I hope this is consistent.

- SHIT, GABRIEL’S OUT OF THE HOUSE. SOMETHING’S WRONG. THOSE EXPENSIVE LEATHER SHOES HAVEN’T TOUCHED ACTUAL GROUND IN YEARS. ADRIEN GET OUT OF THERE.

- I do like that Adrien doesn’t get up when his dad comes to stand right next to him like that. It’s just informal enough. He’s waiting for Gabe to make the first move this time and that’s nice development considering how stiff and cold their relationship was in S1.

- OOOOH GABE THAT’S AN AWKWARD CROUCH. Any lower down and his back is going to go. He’ll be stuck there. I do LOVE that he’s trying though, I don’t even know what he’s going to say to Adrien but this is already SO good.

- “There’s something important I have to talk to you about.” Finally time for The Talk, huh.

- GABE PLEASE. ADRIEN’S WAY TOO CHIRPY TO HAVE ACTUALLY CAUGHT ON TO WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY. HE THINKS YOU’RE TRYING TO SAY YOU LOVE HIM OR SOMETHING ELSE RIDICULOUS

- “I’ve noticed how close you and Nathalie have become!” CLOSE ENOUGH. Still in the ballpark of Adrien thinking his dad has real human feelings!

- “HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK SUCH A THING??” I GENUINELY LAUGHED OUT LOUD AT HOW ANGRY GABE WAS ABOUT THAT. I’m not sure what to think of the “Nathalie replacing Emilie when Emilie’s technically still alive” plot either but GABE’S DECIDED FOR ME. Also good job yelling in your son’s face when you were JUST having a moment, good luck getting back up off your knees in order to storm away, old man.

- Oh alright, he did get up, but it was with a strange angry bow-legged prance. I think he still had trouble.

- I love the way Adrien just kinda wide-eye-blinks at him, like Gabe’s emotional outburst is going totally over his head. He’s been dealing with akuma FAR too long to be bothered by this.

- Guests, plural? I’m guessing Felix is one of them but is he with someone else? That makes sense given he’s (as far as I’ve gathered) the same age as Adrien so he wouldn’t be running around far from home unchaperoned, but OHHH this is so interesting.

- So they ARE claiming it’s been one year since Emilie vanished! This just doesn’t work as a Season 3 episode, especially with Nathalie and Gabe’s romantic development being as far along as it is. Emilie’s been gone for at LEAST three years by this point! Read your show bible once in a while you horrible garbage man!!! Also ADRIEN SWEETHEART THAT’S A LITTLE PREMATURE. You can say “went away forever” when you’re three years into her disappearance, the anniversary of one year really isn’t long enough to claim she’s never coming back!

- OH NO, IT’S THE GIRLS. I’m already bored. Unless Luka is here I really just do not care what they’re all up to. I haven’t missed Marinette at ALL in the first two-and-a-half minutes and I don’t want to see her now. WHERE’S FELIX.

- I’m sorry, how are Lila, Chloé AND Kagami all on a video call together without any blood being drawn? Also for god’s sake PLEASE leave Adrien alone, you want to ask first if he’d LIKE some company or if he’d prefer a quiet personal day to think about his mom? OF COURSE NOT MARINETTE, YOU WOULDN’T WOULD YOU.

- Okay, a video message is definitely a better idea than trying to break into his house AGAIN. At least then he can watch it whenever he feels up to it. The first good, safe, noninvasive idea Mari’s had for SEVERAL episodes when it comes to Adrien.

- I’M REALLY TORN WHEN IT COMES TO THE ENGLISH DUB. On one hand I hate how little screentime Nino has when he’s not just being Alya’s fashion accessory, but on the other hand I’m so glad they switched scenes the moment Nino started his video because I CANNOT handle his dub voice. Nino just deserves better in general really.

- HE WAS CRYING. MY BOY WAS CRYING AGAIN. I’M NOT COOL WITH THIS. IT’S NOT ABOVE YOUR PAYGRADE TO GIVE HIM A HUG, NATHALIE.

- ALRIGHT HI ELSA. IS THIS HIS AUNT? THAT’S SPOOKY.

- Her name is Amelie? So their parents had twins and named them Amelie and Emilie, and they turned out the same right down to the over-the-shoulder Dead Anime Mom hairstyles? That’s lazy parenting down to a tee, can’t mix your twins up if you never have to learn the difference between them in the first place! But that’s INTERESTING that Felix is (I assume, still haven’t seen him yet) from Emilie’s side of the family, I’ve always had the impression he was a petit Gabriel.

- OHHH THAT’S MY BOY! I CAN SEE MY BOY IN THE DOORWAY!!! OH MY GOD GIVE HIM TO ME. GIVE ME FELIX. GIVE ME MY SON.

- ADRIEN IMMEDIATELY JUMPING ON HIM IN A HUG IS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. WHILE FELIX’S HAND IS STILL OUTSTRETCHED FOR A HANDSHAKE. I know this episode is going to go downhill because there’s no way it won’t, but this one single moment is EVERYTHING I WANTED. I should just close the tab now and leave it at this, I really should.

- “Do you remember when they used to have so much fun pretending to be each other? Once they had you and Emilie fooled for a whole weekend!” WHERE HAS THIS BEEN FOR MY ENTIRE ORDEAL GETTING THROUGH THIS SERIES. I don’t even care if this Felix is a stone cold bitch, it’s enough to know he and Adrien were besties when they were kids and Adrien still wanted to hug him the second he walked through the door. AMAZING.

- “I WON’T BE FOOLED A SECOND TIME.” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, GABE. THEY WERE PROBABLY TODDLERS. ARE YOU JUST SO USED TO GETTING YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU BY CHILDREN THAT YOU’RE SUSPICIOUS OF EVERY SINGLE ONE NOW

- Aww, Felix is American (dubbed, anyway). I was really hoping he’d be British with all the references to London over the last season. He does have a nice voice though! I can tell he shares Adrien’s actor but he’s got the softness I’d have expected from his character. There’s kind of an interesting look about his face though, I wish they’d tweaked it a bit to give him a sharper look but I guess he IS like 14, he can afford to still have a bit of baby-cheeked roundness. I’m going to find the positives in every part of this because I will NOT give Garbage Man Astruc the satisfaction of being disappointed like I know he wants me to be. It’s been a fucking war from the moment I saw his name in the writing credits and my best weapon is being pleased about everything in this episode.

- Okay, he looks a little better in the following closeup where his eyes are slightly narrowed. I think it’s the slightly-below-the-chin angle which doesn’t really work for his character model with his soft cheeks and high collar. FELIX IS A BABY.

- WHY WILL NOBODY SHAKE HIS HAND. Adrien hugged him instead and Gabe is ignoring him completely, Felix is clearly so perplexed and I love it. He’s fourteen! He’s fourteen and doing his best with social graces but NOBODY WILL HELP HIM.

- “Felix, you know your uncle’s never been the physical sort!” HE KICKED HIS OWN SON RIGHT ACROSS PARIS IN THE LAST EPISODE BUT SURE, IF YOU SAY SO.

- “Oh, how sweet! You’re still wearing your wedding band!” YEAH? IT’S BEEN LIKE A YEAR?? Again this would make more sense if it had been around three years like we KNOW Emilie’s been gone for, but picking someone out for still wearing their ring after 12 months?! And why isn’t Amelie more emotional about this anyway, isn’t it her sister who’s missing? I wouldn’t be poking fun at MY sister’s husband for keeping his ring if SHE went missing. No wonder Felix seems like he turned out weird.

- I CAN’T MAKE OUT THE NAME OF HER BRANCH OF THE FAMILY AND IT’S KILLING ME. SOMEONE LET ME KNOW WHAT THAT WAS. Graham de Vanily? I can’t place the words. I mean I’m going to keep calling Felix “Agreste” no matter what but I’d like to know what canon is trying to get at.

- “It’s been a long journey from London” I KNEW IT, I FFFFFFFFFUCKING KNEW IT. SO THEY ARE BRITISH?! BUT THEY HAVE AMERICAN ACCENTS?! I mean I guess they’re French first and foremost, but what the fuck is with the American accents if you’re making a POINT about them being from London?! I can’t wait for the French audio to be released, I really want to know what Felix sounds like there. Regardless AAAH MY SON IS FROM MY CITY, I’M SO PLEASED.

- “TakeFelixtoyourbedroom.” EASY GABE THEY JUST MET, ALSO THEY’RE COUSINS

- Poor Felix looks so depressed being saddled with Adrien. Sweetie it’s okay, think positive! You could be stuck with Marinette and THAT would be a true nightmare.

- Now why does Felix keep glancing at Gabe? Is there something going on there? Is he suspicious about what happened to his aunt? I can’t imagine he knows anything about the Miraculous so what’s the deal here?

- UuuuuUUUUGH we’re back with the rest of the gang. I’M NOT INTERESTED, SHOW ME MORE FELIX.

- “Help me Tikki! What would you tell a Kwami friend who’s lost their mom?!” You’re talking to a 5000-year-old demigoddess, Mari, I don’t think she’s gonna relate.

- MARI YOU CAN’T CONFESS TO ADRIEN. NOT AFTER CHAT BLANC. GABE WILL LOSE ALL HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TO WRECK THE LOVE SQUARE AND ALSO THE MOON’S GOING TO EXPLODE. WHY ISN’T BUNNIX HERE TO SLAP THE TABLET OUT OF YOUR HANDS

- Should Tikki really be encouraging this?! I have no idea where in the timeline this is supposed to be. Maybe this is at a stage where she doesn’t know Adrien is Plagg’s chosen so there’s no reason to steer Marinette away from bonding with him. Or maybe every episode just plays by its own rules and there’s really no such thing as continuity in this series. I want to see Felix again.

- YANKING AT AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE ON THE OUTER EDGE OF A BOAT ISN’T GOING TO END WELL. DON’T. I do love how :D Alya is about it though, if nothing else I love what a supportive friend she is.

- Oh, the tablet didn’t go into the water! I’m genuinely surprised by that. Though I imagine Felix is going to fuck things up in some way so he’ll probably be the one to destroy the video somehow. We all know the relationship development isn’t allowed to move forward so SOMETHING’S going to happen to it.

- Thank god we’re back to the mansion. I’m surprised and pleased that (for now at least) we’re only getting the girls in small doses and the plot is mainly focused around the Agrestes. Gorizilla is my favourite episode to date and it did a similar thing with allowing Marinette to be a side character for once along an Adrien-centric plotline, so hopefully this episode will be similar. I’m liking its odds so far but who knows what Horrible Garbage Man Astruc has up his sleeve.

- “I’m really sorry I didn’t come to your dad’s funeral.” I’M SORRY WHAT? PARDON ME? THAT’S AN ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM I DIDN’T EXPECT. As a side note I love Felix being killer at basketball for some reason, he doesn’t look like the athletic type at ALL but he still made that net over his shoulder without even LOOKING. Goddamn. Can everyone please appreciate how cool my son is!!!

- “My father thought it would be too hard on me, considering everything that’s happened this year.” So Felix lost his dad VERY RECENTLY. OUCH. DON’T LIKE THAT. Or I DO like that because it’s already giving his character some extra depth when we’re still only just getting to know him, but on an emotional level I don’t like that.

- “He’s very... protective of me.” CHAT BLANC REALLY WAS A HOT MESS OF AN EPISODE WASN’T IT.

- Now Felix is giving Adrien a hug?! I didn’t see that one coming. My canon Felix would mean it but I don’t quite trust this new Felix yet, he’s probably up to something.

- WHAT A JARRING PIANO TRANSITION. Also why?! What does he have to gain from swiping Adrien’s phone? He’s probably got a terrible roaming plan on his own mobile, that’s always my problem when I go to France. If you truly loved your cousin you’d let him browse Reddit on your phone, Adrien. This is worse than not coming to his dad’s funeral.

- PLAGG KNOWS SOMETHING’S UP. He ought to, in another life he and Felix are STILL dealing with each other.

- Okay I take back what I said about Felix’s voice. Bryce Whatshisface isn’t doing a very good job separating the tones. I can buy that Adrien and Felix sound very similar but their delivery should be completely different! I really do want to watch this in French, I get the feeling it’ll sound much better.

- AH YES, HERE WE GO. I’m getting the feeling this is Garbage Man’s part of the episode. Squished cheese aside, I do like the implication Felix does (or did) card magic and karate. I’m thinking of that Mickey Mouse episode where he vanishes Donald’s car keys with a hand trick except it’s Felix vanishing Marinette’s phone when she’s about to text Adrien or something. I’ve got to draw that.

- “Mind if I take a shower?” WHY, FELIX. I mean I’d probably want to shower too after the London-Paris commute (and I’m sure he’s only going in there to wreak havoc, put food colouring in Adrien’s shampoo bottles or something) but what a weird time to ask!

- I mean Plagg has a point about difficult home situations not justifying bad behaviour (and I feel like that’s not what’s going on, with how he was glaring at Gabe I think he’s behaving like this for some other reason), but Felix’s dad LITERALLY DIED. Like they had a funeral and everything. Emilie is just “missing”. They’re SIMILAR but that’s still a false equivalence because Adrien’s got hope to hold on to and Felix doesn’t.

- So we’re not going to talk about how Felix got into Adrien’s passcode-protected phone? I guess he could have done the fogging-up-the-screen trick from Oblivio. Standing around in a steamy bathroom in three layers of clothing is a great way to sweat yourself out and ruin your hair though, way to get even more gross than a five-hour commute between countries.

- “Of course that idiot has a crush on a superhero!” EASY THERE, MR HOWLING-ON-A-ROOFTOP-BECAUSE-HE-SAW-THE-GIRL-HE-LIKED. WE’VE ALL SEEN THE PV.

- I’ve just noticed Felix has a ring too! I don’t know how I missed that before this scene! That’s NICE. He’s still not allowed to have it on his middle finger (LET HIM SWEAR) but that’s a nod back to Chat Noir which I really appreciate!

- ROSE HAS BEEN ON THE HELIUM. SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT THERE.

- FELIX KNOWS CHLOÉ! THAT’S NICE, THAT’S GOOD. I LIKE THAT. That’s also a really nice little video from her, I love the few small moments we’ve had that affirm she and Adrien really ARE friends, whether she wants to date him or not.

- OOOH HE DELETED THE VIDEOS. I’m curious about him borrowing Adrien’s clothes too, are they going to dress the same? You’d think Adrien wouldn’t give someone an exact copy of the outfit he’s currently wearing but I genuinely don’t know if he owns anything different. I hope they don’t just use two Adrien models for the rest of the episode, please let me see Felix properly :/

- WHY. HONESTLY, WHY. CAN I PLEASE GET AN EXPLANATION FOR WHY FELIX IS DOING THIS.

- OOOH MARI YOU’RE NOT GONNA LIKE THIS. I can imagine Felix is going to say something nasty and that’ll set the girls off and bring about the akuma of the week. I’m mildly entertained but I’m still not engaged with this idea without any proper explanation. We’d better get something by the end of the episode which justifies what’s made Felix do this, because “he’s just evil lol” would be a reeeeally low move from Garbage Man Astruc.

- MARI SWEETIE. YOU’VE GOTTA LEARN TO CHECK A ROOM IS EMPTY BEFORE YOU RUN INSIDE AND START FREAKING OUT VERY LOUDLY. LUKA’S HEARD ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.

- Luka is such a nice character. Why does he get to be so high quality when Felix has been turned into a cheese-smashing phone-stealing gremlin? I mean I KNOW why, but I’d like to think the showwriters are better than this. They’re not, but I’d like to think they are.

- WHAT A VIDEO MESSAGE. I love how Luka’s just sitting there grimacing while Mari speeds off into battle, he doesn’t know what she’s about to do but he knows better than to try stopping her.

- Back with Gabe and Nathalie. Is this what was being foreshadowed when Gabe claimed he wouldn’t be fooled by the boys’ identity switch twice? Is he GOING to be fooled again or will he be the one person who can tell immediately that this isn’t his son?

- “FELIX.” WOW, HE REALLY WASN’T FOOLED TWICE. RESPECT. He may have trouble getting up off the ground if he sits down too low but he can at least identify his child in a difficult situation like this, props to Gabe this week.

- “All this disappointment might just help us get rid of our unwanted guests!” SHUT YOUR MOUTH, FELIX IS A DELIGHT. The only unwanted guest here is Astruc on the writing team.

- “Felix... I told you that you couldn’t fool me twice.” Way to blow your identity in five seconds Gabe. I guess he hasn’t sent out the akuma yet so this might just be a personal monologue, but he starts addressing his victims directly so often at this stage that I’m really not sure what they can or can’t hear. SHIT’S RISKY.

- OH OKAY, SO HE’S SENDING THIS TRIPLE AKUMA AFTER FELIX? AND/OR ADRIEN, DEPENDING ON HOW HARD IT IS TO TELL THEM APART? I guess that’s what he means by getting rid of their guests, if the house is attacked by a monster (or monsters?) they aren’t going to want to stick around, but I REALLY HOPE YOU’RE TAKING ADRIEN’S WELLBEING INTO ACCOUNT HERE GABE OL BUDDY :/

- “TIKKI, SPOTS ON! MNUURGH” ME TOO MARINETTE. I’M REALLY ONLY 12 MINUTES INTO THIS.

- I’m gonna be honest, I’m not really interested in the girls. I was hoping for a real triple akuma (like Oblivio was apparently Alya and Nino together) but they’re all just villains we’ve seen before. There’s stuff I could comment on here but I just want to see more of Felix, that’s what I’m here for.

- “Nathalie, get Adrien to a safe place far from his cousin!” YOU’RE REALLY JUST GONNA SACRIFICE FELIX LIKE THIS. I guess that makes sense, I WAS complaining during Chat Blanc that Adrien is Gabriel’s weak point, so all things considered I’m not surprised that he’ll protect Adrien but just flat-out wants Felix dead. Fair enough.

- WOW. I THOUGHT ADRIEN WAS GOING TO BE HEROIC AND DEFEND FELIX BUT HE WANTS HIM DEAD TOO. Or was that a double bluff to make the akuma think he MUST be Felix so he can lead them away and keep his cousin safe? He’s just run off with a wild cackle so I’m thinking it’s the latter. HE’S A GOOD BOY AND A TRUE HERO.

- I also find it kind of funny how Nathalie will jump in harm’s way to defend him when there have been INNUMERABLE other episodes of Gabe just setting an akuma directly on Adrien for the hell of it. Maybe because there isn’t really any ‘harm’ here to start with; the three girls’ powers are probably the least violent of all the akuma we’ve seen so far.

- AM I REALLY ABOUT TO SEE FELIX DRESSED AS ADRIEN DOING KARATE. I HOPE HE’S GOOD AT IT.

- OH MY GOD HE IS GOOD AT IT. That’s cool! I was expecting him to totally flop considering how badly his imposter trick went down a few minutes ago, but it’s nice to see he’s as capable at fighting as he is at basketball. When do I get to see his magic card tricks?

- YEAH I FEEL THE SAME PLAGG. WHAT’S EVEN HAPPENING. Not that I think Adrien shouldn’t save Felix, I just want to know WHY Felix felt like he had to do this in the first place! I feel like “can I PLEASE get a waffle” except instead of watching the employees fight I’m watching this episode careening away with no pauses to explain what’s going on.

- FELIX C’MON. STOP CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE. I can tell Garbage Man Astruc still has the reins here because causing even MORE trouble even AFTER Adrien saved his ass is a completely illogical course of action. PUT SÉBASTIEN BACK IN THE WRITERS CHAIR.

- “WHICH PART OF THE WORD ‘NO’ DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!” Oh perfect, great, can’t let this episode end without accusing Felix of not respecting consent! That’s a hot button issue and if Garbage Man Astruc can get him on that bandwagon then fans HAVE to hate this character! Great move! Fucking pillock!

- WOW CHAT THAT’S MEAN. I guess accusing Felix of having no friends is justified in the context of the episode but yikes :(

- Was that a flash of humiliation from Felix there? God will one of the writers PLEASE save this character, PLEASE don’t let this episode end without someone getting him out of the Garbage Man’s big meaty claws.

- Excuse me WHAT? Felix is talking directly to Papillon?! So he knows about all the Miraculous stuff?! Oh NO, is this about getting his dad back? I don’t know whether the One Wish is common knowledge (I don’t think it is?) but maybe Felix put the pieces together on his own back home, so all his behaviour here has been trying to incite an akuma that he can take advantage of to appeal to Papillon?! Or he could just be a bitch all on his own, which is probably what the Garbage Man would prefer, but this makes a lot of sense all of a sudden.

- BRO HE NEARLY DIED. BRO. BROOO.

- “I hope you’ve learned your lesson!” YOU’RE NOT EVEN GONNA ASK ABOUT THE PAPILLON THING? YOU CAN’T JUST TREAT THIS AS A REGULAR DISTURBANCE, FELIX KNOWS SHIT ABOUT THE MIRACULOUS YOU GUYS--

- FELIX’S MOM IS REALLY GOING TO BLAME HIS DEAD DAD FOR THIS? HARD YIKES. NO WONDER FELIX IS WEIRD.

- I’m expecting this isn’t over, because Felix still clearly wants something specific that he didn’t get, but I’ll take this cute hug for what it is. He didn’t have an evil expression behind Adrien’s back this time either and the music is all soft and nice, plus he FINALLY got a handshake from Gabe, but I absolutely do NOT imagine this episode will end without getting an extra shot in at the PV fans somehow. We’re not getting off this easy.

- Why doesn’t Gabriel want Adrien to go after Felix? Is he scared he’ll try to run off, or ask them to stay longer when he really wants to get rid of them?

- AHAHA FELIX STOLE GABE’S RING. WHAT A BRAT. Was that the “jewelry” he mentioned wanting in return for helping Papillon? I figured it was a Miraculous thing but maybe not.

- OHHH, look how much Felix loves his mom! This is such a sweet scene. I particularly like the idea that Amelie was trying to get the rings back to give one to Felix because the way she was speaking to Gabe made it sound like she wanted them Just Because. But you can’t mention some wild story connected to the rings and then not explain it! I want to know what that is, I want to know why Felix is so fascinated with it!!!

- ALSO, FELIX GETTING A BIG KISS RIGHT ON THE FOREHEAD. EXCELLENT. I’ll fucking BET this is another scene Sébastien sneaked in because it’s such an emotional quality shift from the whole clone mess. Like what the fuck even WAS that.

- Yep, Felix is still evil! WHY THOUGH. WHAT’S GOING ON. CAN I PLEASE GET A WAFFLE

- I was expecting a worse ending, but “Felix can’t ever come back to Paris because Gabriel will kill him with his bare hands if he does” is decent enough. If there’s no further confirmation (and NO, anything Garbage Man Astruc tweets later on does NOT fucking count so don’t try me) I’m going to take it that he WAS actually sorry for what he did to Adrien. That’s better than nothing.

WELL THAT WAS AN EPISODE. That actually wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be - it could have been a lot better but it could have been a lot worse too. The beginning and end were nice enough even if the middle part was Garbage Man Astruc’s usual atrocious mess of self-service, though I do particularly despise the hamfisted consent issue shoved in there just to generate extra reasons to hate the character. WE GET IT, YOU DON’T LIKE FELIX. OFF YOU FUCK.

I’ve slept on this next paragraph to give myself time to formulate some concrete thoughts about the plot, so... Well, it was a mess, that’s for sure. They spent way too much time establishing how oH sO eViL Felix was and not nearly enough time actually explaining his character.

Why is he acting out like this? What has he got against Adrien in particular? Is he really sore about Adrien not supporting him at his dad’s funeral or is that just what Adrien thinks is his problem? What was his relationship with his dad before he died? Was his troublemaking all about trying to provoke an akuma and ask Papillon to help him get his family rings back (which he was clearly trying to steal from the moment he walked through the door, only Gabe wouldn’t shake his hand the first time), or was that just a side effect of causing shit for no reason? Did he mean his apology to Adrien at the end? WHAT was the deal with the rings and the story attached to them? There’s a whole interesting story buried in here which just got completely overlooked by the emphasis on how terrible he was and that’s really disappointing.

I did like his damaged-but-still-good relationship with Adrien though, there’s still hope there and maybe Felix (if he ever shows up again, which I only hope he does if it’s NOT another excuse for Garbage Man Astruc to shit on the PV fandom again, for the love of FUCK don’t give this guy multiple opportunities) will start coming around and making the effort to be a better cousin since Adrien’s given him a second chance. I don’t know. What I liked just as much was Marinette actually barely being in this episode at all, for the first time since Gorizilla she’s ALLOWED to be the supporting character again and that’s GREAT.

I don’t really know what else to say. I’m exhausted. Adrien’s a darling and I think I prefer my Twin AU, though canon Felix being a delightful little gremlin who causes problems-on-purpose is something I can work with in the future too.

Thanks for coming on this... interesting journey with me! I posted a set of tweets last night which I’ll leave here to finish up:

#josie's art #josie talks about things #miraculous ladybug #felix agreste #this can go in my felix tag for organisation's sake #and NO i'm not going to start calling him felix vanillagrahams or whatever his canon name is; leave me alone #anyway here's the post everyone wanted; it got VERY LONG but i ain't even sorry #i usually liveblog on the PV discord server but i felt this deserved its own post of basically-the-same-thing-but-neater

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finleyjayne · 4 years

Text

You Should Care

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

1000 Follower Celebration for @justkending! Happy Birthday~ Thank you for being so welcoming to me. Also, like really hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Text Prompt: “Yeah, go write me a 1000 page essay on it, and maybe I’ll care.”

Warnings: swearing, mild angst.

Summary: You have had enough of Steve overlooking your advice when it comes to reconstruction after his many exploits with the Avengers because you are his girlfriend. So you come up with a plan, and, with Pepper Potts help, you are going to put a solution into place. Hopefully, you can convince him that you know what you’re doing.

There was a definite divide between Captain and Steve in your relationship. It was always there, and usually, there wasn't a problem. It's important to compartmentalize when it comes to personal and work matters, but sometimes... sometimes, you just wish that he would see you as more than just his girlfriend.

Honestly, you have credentials that shouldn't be taken for granted. You had worked in war zones as a medic and relief co-ordinator. This made it increasingly difficult to accept that your sweet and caring Steve wouldn't listen to you when you brought his attention to the increasing disregard for the citizens the Avengers try to protect.

Sometimes his tactics take no consideration to the refugees that will be displaced. People who never ask for the battles to be fought near their homes. They never wanted to be there. They want to live their lives, go to work, go home, spend time with friends. Captain, doesn't see that. He sees an objective and one way to get it done. Determined to do the right thing, even if it leaves the people there worse for wear.

The last time you brought it to his attention, there was nothing that could convince him that there needed to be something to help out after. Nothing that could keep him from doing what he could to take down the HYDRA base, screw the consequences. Even when it meant destroying one of the only schools in the area. He dared to have the gall to say, "well, I know that they need the help, but I don't know how you expect us to do anymore. There isn't anything that you can expect from us."

You couldn't take it anymore. If Captain America wouldn't change his tactics, you would change yours. After all, he did make a good point, there is only so much a single, lone soldier can do.

So here you are, walking up the front steps of Stark Enterprises to talk to not only Captain Rogers but also his team and CEO Virginia "Pepper" Potts. Taking a deep breath to force yourself to focus, you walk through the doors to start going through the heavy security of the tower. Finally, using the clearance that Steve had you get so that you could come to see him if, read when, he gets injured.

Now though, he doesn't know you're coming, you are on my own personal mission, and he will NOT be stopping you. He will not ignore you this time. There will be no shutting you out. You are going to make sure that no more innocent people will take the brunt of the Avengers' crime-fighting. There needs to be some type of clean up crew that comes in after the fact to give these people the medical, emotional, and technological help to reconstruct the people's lives after they are hit as collateral damage.

You already know what half of them are going to say. The outlook is bright in this going in your favor, but honestly, there are no reasonable excuses. They may save the world but, if they aren't careful, they may end up breaking it in the process. People are going to start revolting against their help. You want to prevent that, and this plan is just one step in that direction. They do good, but they need to be a little better at managing collateral damage. You know for a fact that the PR department of Stark tech has been up their asses about it. It's one of the main things Steve complains about after his rarely-talked-about missions.

Sighing, you walk into the elevator. "Hello, Future Mrs. Rogers, I take it you are here to see Mr. Rogers?"

"No, Jarvis, I am actually here for my meeting with Ms. Potts and the Team," you state, rolling my eyes at Tony's inability to call me my name, even through his AI. "Will you take me to floor 39? And don't let Captain Rogers know I am here, please."

"No problem, Miss. I will envoke Ice Out Capcicle Protocol 7."

Head held high, you give a slight nod. No time to dwell on the fact that Tony programmed a protocol to keep someone from running into Steve at the moment. You don't even know if you want to know why it needed to be coded.

Stepping off the elevator, you are met by the glorious visage that is Pepper Potts. From her perfectly-quaffed hair to the stylish yet functional clothing, her appearance practically screams I have authority, do as I say.

You give her a timid smile, "Ms. Potts, Thank you for seeing me today. I hope this meeting goes as well as you lead me to believe it would."

"{Y/N}, as I've told you before, call me Pepper. I read your proposal, and honestly, I have been looking for a fix to this problem ever since Tony came out with his alias as Iron Man. It's as if you could read my mind. Now, all we have to do is make the team aware."

Your smile grew more genuine, "Well then, we still have a whole battle in front of us. God only knows what the Captain will think when he knows that I've been working on this. He can be such an old man sometimes."

"Well, even if he complains, he knows full well that this is what you have been trained to do. That's more than he can say about his own beginning." Pepper says with a mischievous smirk.

"Well, let's get this battle underway, why don't we?" you answer, already looking forward to this presentation being over.

Going into the meeting room, you take your place at the head of the table, setting your briefcase down. "Jarvis, can you bring up the folder ARF onto the Holoscreen?"

"Of course, Miss." Was the prompt reply. Soon following, a set of photos, pie charts, graphs, and other little snippets projecting into the air above the table. "The team will be arriving in the next five minutes, along with Director Fury. Would you like anything else in the meantime?"

"Thank you, Jarvis. I don't think I need anything else." You say.

"Jarvis, is Tony's lab still on lockdown from this morning?" Pepper asked from her seat to the right. Her eyes still scanning over something on her StarkPad.

"Yes, Ms. Potts, he is on his way."

"Good." Right as she responds, the majority of the team comes in taking their preferred seats around the table. Their faces show a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and confusion at seeing me there.

Steeling my nerves as best you can, you stand going through the photos and graphs, ordering them for later reference and shrinking them so that they are out of the way until you need them. Chatter fills the room as their conversations continue. With a faint smile, you look up to watch Steve and Tony walk into the room, followed by a cantankerous Director Fury.

With one look, Steve smirks. "Hi, honey, I didn't expect you to visit today."

You smile, "Yeah, I have a meeting for that new project I've been working on." His eyes flash with confusion as he opens his mouth. Before he can speak, you cut him off, "Welcome, General Ross, it's good that you could make it. Now that everyone is here, we can start." Hopefully, Steve didn't ruin this.

"Thank you for having me, Ms. Potts said that you had a solution to some of our concerns?" His brow scrunches in concern as he folds his arms over his chest.

"Indeed, she has. {Y/N} has been a lifesaver with a new project that Stark Industries is undertaking to proactively increase the security of the world's opinions on the Avengers. It will also help with reconstruction after world catastrophes like the Invasion of New York, should something like that happen again." Pepper explains, "Not to mention, it will be a big help to the Avengers PR team."

You give Pepper a thankful smile before turning to start the meeting only to have my mouth filled with Tony's voice.

"Wait? Roger's Housewife is the Humanitarian Aide-specialist you've been talking to and raving about for the past month? Really?" Tony barks as you smirk, finding his eyes shine with intrigue as he looks you over.

"Tony, your misogyny is showing," Natasha probes with an eye-roll.

"But she..."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Mr. Stark. Anyway, as Ms. Potts was saying, I've noticed a negative trend, and I want to help." Flicking your hand, you shower the table with images of towns, both before and after Avengers' battles have taken place near, or in them. "The Avengers do essential work, but every time there is a battle or an operation, many innocent people are harmed or injured. People that don't have anything to do with the conflict. Some of those people will never be able to save themselves from the devastation that has been rained down around them. Between the buildings that have been crushed, the people who are injured, and the emotional and mental trauma that comes from not being safe in your own home, full economies have collapsed. As of right now, there is nothing in place to clean up after the Avengers take down whatever big bad comes out of the shadows."

Looking around, you see the director is following along with a skeptical look, Natasha is smirking like she already knew what you were going to say and approved. Clint is wholly zoned out; upon further inspection, you see his hearing aids on the table. Tony is glaring, probably thinking about his own solutions to the problem, while Rhodey is smiling in encouragement. Skimming over the rest, your eyes catch Steve's glower. Notably pissed at you for bringing this up in a more formal environment.

"That is where I come in. As some of you know, I used to be a wartime medic, and as Mr. Stark has previously stated, I am now a certified Humanitarian Aide Specialist. It used to be my job to take care of the people displaced by wars like those in the Middle East. In my time there, I have been able to help many people by rebuilding their little pieces of the world. I have put together a team of Medics, Contractors, Therapists, Teachers, Farmers, and others to go in after the Avengers to play clean up. To make it so that we don't cause more harm than good. To keep us as the good guys in people's eyes."

After you were done speaking, the room was silent. You met their eyes, keeping your breath even as you waited to be interrupted. After a few beats, you realized that they were all intently listening, even Steve looked like he was listening intently to your compromise.

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, "The first response team consists of Trauma Specialists with field medic experience lead by myself. Along with a crew of Hotshots and Firefighters. The secondary response depends on what is needed, all focusing on rebuilding affected infrastructures and betterment within the economies of these countries. They will be working with the respective governments to help not only restore but also improve upon what was lost. I recruited them from many places. Most of them are personal contacts from my time overseas and locally. All of them are cleared by both Jarvis' background check and SHEILD's screening. I don't know if this is going to work, but I cannot stand aside and let you devastate the lives of any more innocent people without at least trying to help."

Taking a deep breath, you look up into their faces. Their expressions were a mixed bag of emotions. Pepper was smiling at me encouragingly as the rest of the Avengers' faces seemed very accepting of this proposal, Rhodey, Natasha, and Tony looked the most impressed. Steve was glowering at a graph set hovering by his seat, trying to figure out exactly how bad he should feel for ignoring your expertise. Fury was the only one who seemed unsold on the benefits of this situation.

"And why exactly should I be interested in this, Ms. {Y/L/N}. From what you've said so far, none of this concerns SHIELD or the work that they do.

"Well sir, although they are an independent organization, they do tend to reflect on the world's view of America-"

"- I am a very busy man and don't have time for this. Write me a 1000 page essay on it, and maybe I'll care." Fury interrupted.

"One step ahead of you. Here is my thesis on defense by building infrastructure. A 1,297 word debrief on why you should give this your stamp of approval and help. And finally, A contract with stark enterprises to co-operate and co-fund ARF or the Avenger Relief Foundation. Already gone over by Agent Hill, all you have to do is sign it." You calmly reply, sliding him a folder of the stated documents on top of a bound copy of your thesis.

Fury glowers at you through his one healthy eye. "Well, I see you've done the leg work. I'll give it a once over and be back with you." He grumbles, grabbing the folder and leaving the thesis. "I don't have time for that." He calls over his shoulder on his way out the door.

"Well, whether or not fury gives his okay on this project, Stark Industries has already started preparations to pick up and implement the ideas you've presented to us, {Y/N}." Pepper states. "I look forward to working with you and can't wait to see your successes."

With that, everyone nodded, giving their congratulations and well wishes. Leaving just you and Steve, who is still enraptured in the data you had put together.

Unwilling to start this conversation, you walk around the conference table to pick up the thesis.

"I owe you an apology, {Y/N}," Steve stated.

You look at him through your lashes at the corner of your eye. "What exactly for, Captain?" you ask, busying yourself with your briefcase as he stood there looking apologetically at you.

"You were right, I just didn't want to listen. I didn't want you to be right because it would mean that for the last couple of years, I've been ignoring the people I've vowed to protect." He says, going back to looking at the images still being projected over the space. "I am sorry that I didn't listen to you when you told me that there were ways to change. I still don't really like the idea of you putting yourself into more danger, but I can see why we need this. I am proud of you for following your heart." Steve says, looking at you, earnestness filling his blue eyes.

"You did save them from the big bad, and sometimes it's harder to admit we are wrong than we would like it to be. I forgive you, but next time I say something, at least try to be open. I may act like your typical 50's Housewife, but I can assure you I will kick your ass. We are a team, I am here to help you, just as much as you are here for me." You tell him as you come over to him, brushing your arm down his arm sweetly.

" How did I get to be such a lucky man?" He asks, giving you a dopey grin.

"You didn't do anything. You are just Steve. Now that I know you aren't going to skin me alive for fighting this battle, do you wanna go out to lunch?" You blush, picking up your briefcase.

"Whatever you want, sugar. I gotta show the world how beautiful and smart my best girl is. I mean, she is going to save the world, one village at a time." Steve says, wrapping you in his giant arms.

#justkendingwritingchallenge #steve x reader #protective steve rogers #Steve Rogers #stevexreader #my first reader insert #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 7 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Seven

Jose hangs up the phone and disbelievingly stares at it for a moment. This call certainly didn’t play out how he thought it would, when he accepted it.

He needs to sit down and makes his way to the couch, where Thackery is already snoozing away. Jose doesn’t care and picks him up anyway, cuddles him even though the cat tries to get away at first. He needs the attention, the cuddles and the comfort, his cat just has to deal with it.

It had started with instagram request for a scheduled call. He thought it would entail some catching up, some chit chat and some funny stories. And yet, here he was, at a loss for words, with a heavy heart and with no fucking clue what to do.

Rachel had told him she wanted to FaceTime him and because he liked her and hadn’t talked to her in a while, he agreed. Maybe, he had also been curious about her uncle, just maybe.

Rachel hadn’t been alone though, her mother was with her when Jose picked up. After a short talk about dance and some other meaningless shit, Ada had sent her daughter away. Jose had feared that she would ask questions. Questions he wouldn’t be sure how to answer and would most likely have to resort to lies. He hadn’t expected Ada to know about Brock being gay and about their night together.

Jose is still shocked about it and wonders about the circumstances of that confession. He doesn’t suspect that Brock just randomly came out to his sister. Ada had been on a roll though and so Jose hadn’t been able to stop her and ask for the story.

Jose had hoped he’d find out how Brock was, but he hadn’t expected his sister to ask him to call Brock, beg him really, so Brock would finally talk to someone.

Ada was worried, very worried, and therefore Jose was now losing his mind over the different scenarios that he feared Brock was suffering.

He’d known all along that Brock was struggling with his mental health, but judging by what Ada described on the phone, things have taken a turn for the worse, even though Brock now has one ally who knows about him and his sexual orientation.

Jason had also hinted before, that Brock wasn’t doing too well, but having his sister call and plead with you to help her, help her brother… Jose isn’t sure what to think or say or do.

He told her that he’s tried texting and calling and she told him to keep doing it, start doing it again, really.

He told her, he fears Brock will block his number and she assured him, he wouldn’t even know how to do it.

She revealed, Brock got instagram so he could check out Jose’s account, but doesn’t follow him. As if he’d be able to find him without his real name or his picture amongst his nearly 4 million followers, that fucking dumb-ass.

The talk with Ada leaves Jose shaken, scared and very upset. He knows if he calls Brock, his call will not get picked up. Jose is sure if he texts him, he won’t get a reply. He doubts Brock will read the message before deleting it. But what other option does he have?

Jose doesn’t even understand why Brock is not talking to him anymore. They said goodbye with a hug after an amazing night together. Jose made it clear that Brock was always welcome to call and that he wanted to remain friends. Maybe their night together was a mistake after all? Maybe, if they didn’t have sex things wouldn’t be so fucked up now? But how was he supposed to say no? It was an impossible task for him, because he was drawn to Brock like a moth to the flame. Still is. Nothing is any easier now, than it was when he drove away and barely made it past the fucked up ”friendly community” sign until he had to pull over because he was crying so much he couldn’t see the road anymore. He had wanted to go back, turn the car around and hurry back, but nothing would have been different. Brock would still be in the closet, he still had to leave and there was still no future for them. He hadn’t know back then that it would hurt that bad for that long, because he had counted on a friendship, some contact to get the fix he craves.

It also makes him angry because things could be so much easier if Brock wasn’t so damn stupid. They could talk and text. They could be friends at least, really good friends and maybe they could come up with a way on how to make them work sometime in the future, because it sure looks like it was just some spring dick romance.

Brock is one stubborn motherfucker and apparently one who lives for the self-sacrifice, because Ada also let Jose know that Brock is ghosting him, because he doesn’t want to ruin Jose’s life. He wants him to move on and be happy with someone else. For a second Jose’s tempted to do exactly that, post some bullshit picture with some random guy and pretend it’s his new boo. That’s what Brock wants after all.

But Jose is scared of his reaction, scared what might happen, if Brock is confronted with that image. Also, it would be a lie. Even after four months, Jose has not moved on, which has to mean something, right? He’s still reliving their one night together nearly every night. He dreams about their talks, hears Brock’s laughter as they stack the shelves together. He’s made the picture Brock took of him his lock screen and home screen. Not because it’s a picture of himself, but because he’s wearing Brock’s hat in it, because Brock took that picture and he still remembers that afternoon in all details. For a moment he was tempted to make the picture he has of Brock the background of his home and lock screen, but people would ask too many questions he has no answers to.

He showed the picture to Silky and A’keria and they both agree he’s fine as hell, even though he looks tired. But nothing could ever make that beautiful man look bad.

Jose opens the picture and stares into Brock’s smiling eyes on the screen. He misses him so much even just looking at his photo makes Jose want to cry.

He’ll try, Jose decides. He’ll try to smoke him out one last time.

He goes to instagram and uploads the video of his goofy dance that Brock secretly filmed, keeps in the part where Brock is laughing and teasing him. The bible fanatics surely won’t follow him on instagram and out of those who do, only Ada and Jason know Brock’s voice. It’s not like he’s saying anything suspicious and he can’t even be seen. Mostly he’s just laughing and Jose loves the sound, more so because it always helps him keep the tears at bay when he misses him too much.

‘Remember this? Different kind of spring dance. I miss those days. #Imissyou’ he writes as a caption and posts it. Hopefully there will be some kind of reaction from the man he still can’t forget and still loves, even though he’s fucking dumb.

***

”Ada? Where did you put the turnips?” Brock yells from the front of the store to the back of the store. Ever since his sister has been back full time, he can’t find anything anymore. It adds to the general annoyance he always feels these days, that’s constantly bubbling under the surface and now makes him want to throw the fucking boxes through the store or just burn the vegetables altogether. Who needs turnips anyway?

”They’re underneath the radish stand,” comes Ada’s reply.

”No, they’re not. That’s where they’re supposed to be, but I have no fucking idea where you put them.” How is supposed to restock them if he can’t find them? The throbbing behind his eyes intensifies.

”Watch your mouth. I don’t wanna have Noah cussing and cursing.” Ada lectures him as she walks out of the small office with Noah in her arms.

”He’s four months old. It’ll still be a while until he can say mama or cuss,” Brock rolls his eyes.

”Here, hold him Mr. Know-it-all.” She hands him the baby and starts looking for the turnips herself.

”Will you start cussing us all out Noah? Or will you be a good boy?” Brock coos at the baby and bounces him up and down on his arm. He’s spent a lot of time around him since he was born and it’s obvious that the little boy knows him, by the way he smiles at him. A second later a gush of milk and drool comes out of his mouth and runs down Brock’s arm. ”Great, cussing would be less disgusting, you know.” Brock shakes his head and turns around to find something to clean himself.

”Need a tissue?” Brock swirls back around. He can’t believe his eyes and shakes his head. This can’t be true. He stares disbelievingly, but the strong scent of cologne in the air that makes his headache intensify, lets him know that it’s real. He’s not hallucinating; Jose is back and his stomach drops. ”Here, let me help ya,” the smaller man says and wipes Brock’s arm clean with the tissues he holds. ”There ya go.”

They just stare at each other then, Brock still not really believing that Jose’s here, looking at him with a tiny, shy smile and those large brown eyes of his. His hair is longer than it was, it’s shaved differently and bleached on one side. There’s some stubble on his face and he’s wearing different earrings; the diamond studs have been replaced with black ones. He’s even more beautiful now, something Brock never thought possible, either.

”What are you doing here?” Brock finally finds his voice.

”Checking on ya treacherous ass. You don’t pick up your phone, don’t call me back, don’t reply to my messages. What’s a guy gotta do?” Jose tries to joke, but his voice isn’t as loud as it usually is and his hands are slightly shaking.

”You shouldn’t be here,” Brock starts to panic. Jose can’t be here! Everything will be for nothing! All his attempts to get over him and forget about him. The pain and the restraint whenever he watched his phone ring and ring, but hadn’t picked up. All the messages he deleted after reading them, everything inside him wanting to reply, wanting to call Jose back and just hear his voice. All the fights with his parents, Ada’s attempts to help him… If Jose sticks around everybody will find out what he is, people will talk, they will wonder and ultimately they will put two and two together and realize that Jose’s back because he had sex with him and wants to get in his pants again. Then his parents find out and he’ll lose… what exactly, Brock suddenly wonders. The thought makes him livid.

Why can’t Jose accept his decision? Why can’t he respect that he can’t have him in his life? Why can’t he see that he’s not good for Jose and will only drag him down with him? What does this beautiful, charming and charismatic man, with more money than he could ever dream of, friends and a career, want with him, a loser who is in the closet, suffers from anxiety and still lives with his parents? It’s a cruel joke god’s playing on him, that’s what it is. This is why he’s never done this before. Anonymous random hook ups with strangers are safer, because they surely can’t just come back and find you when they want.

”I can be wherever I wanna be, right Noah, my man? You remember me? You remember uncle Vanjie?” Jose baby talks to his nephew and if Brock wasn’t so angry again, he’d find it cute. Lately, he’s always angry and he rarely knows why.

”Fine, then you stay here, I’m gonna leave.” Brock says and looks around for his sister so she can take his nephew from him.

”Why you being such an asshole to me? I haven’t done nothing to you! Actually, I came back, ‘cause I was worried.” Jose gets louder as well and Brock can see Mr. Smith in the other aisle lift his head, clearly curious about what’s going on.

”No one needs to worry about me, least of all you. It’s none of your fucking business what’s going on with me. I don’t wanna talk to you, I don’t wanna text you. I want you to leave me the fuck alone! There, is that clear enough, in case me ignoring you wasn’t?” Brock hisses at him. Suddenly Ada is there beside him and he puts the baby in her arms.

”You’re a motherfucking jerk, you stupid, stuck-up, emotionally stunted asshole!” Jose roars and Brock blinks, because for a second he thinks Jose might actually hit him. He suddenly seems taller than him, he’s so angry he’s vibrating and his eyes are black at this point.

”Brock, ya better leave,” Ada tells him and places a hand on Vanjie’s arm. So much for the family support and loyalty. Since when is his own sister on Jose’s side? Shouldn’t she know why Brock is acting like he is?

Without another look at either of them, Brock hurries out of the store and slams the door behind him, so hard the glass nearly bursts.

He doesn’t take the car that is parked in front of the store, because he has no intention of going back to his parent’s farm and back to work. He’s tempted to kick Jose’s overly shiny and way too expensive car, but doesn’t.

Instead he stalks off into the empty fields, over the dry sand and small rocks, just to get away from everything.

Especially from the man with the expressive eyes and the ever-present scent of cologne, who used to be the person he dreamed about being with and who has now become his live-and-in-flesh nightmare.

***

Days later, Brock knows he has been played as soon as the black Porsche pulls up to his sister’s house. For two days, he managed to avoid Jose and he hoped that he would be gone by now, but no such luck.

When his sister had asked him to come over and help her run some errants he hadn’t become suspicious. Not even when he got there and she told him she had the kids and he had to go alone. Only when Jose drove up to the house, did he understand what was going on.

”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he curses as Rachel runs off to give Jose a hug when he gets out of the car. The fact that said man is responsible for him not sleeping a wink the last two nights doesn’t help his mood.

”I thought I’d be more comfortable to take Jose’s car in this heat. It’s a two hour drive one way, ya know,” Ada shrugs and looks so innocent, that Brock nearly doubts she has anything to do with this.

”More comfortable?” Brock snorts about the fucking irony. There are very few places at the moment he’d be less comfortable in than in Jose’s car or anywhere where Jose is, really. It’s just so hard to be around him and knowing he has to push him away with all his might, while he wants nothing more than to just run to him and burry himself in his arms and never let go. It’s another wish in his fucked up life that will never come true, because he can’t allow himself to make it come true. He has to make sure at least Jose can be happy in the long run, so annoying him a bit now so he won’t get hurt might be the safest course of action. He has to protect those he loves and he absolutely loves Jose.

”What? You gonna throw a fit like a two year old? Vanjie’s right, ya know, you acting like an asshole,” Ada lectures him. ”Get into the car and be nice to him. He’s only helping us out and ya should be grateful not rude.”

”Yes, mom,” he rolls his eyes, gets into the passenger’s seat of the car and closes the door. It’s blissfully cool inside, the AC blasting as well as the music. Jose is still talking to Rachel and his sister outside and smiles and babbles with Noah. Brock has to smile at the picture, but stops himself when he realises what he’s doing and quickly looks away before he can get caught.

”Ya ready?” Jose’s tone is harsh, maybe unnerved and surely not as friendly, funny or warm as it used to be.

Brock grunts in reply and looks out the side window. He can see Jose’s reflection in it, the way his jaw clenches and how his eyebrows are drawn together. He looks as tense as Brock feels, which strangely enough makes him relax a bit.

Brock watches the landscape fly by as they drive out of town. It’s been a while since he’s been to Dallas, but this time they got no choice. Ada has given him a long list with things she needs and errants he needs to run for her. Usually she makes the trip once a month, but with Noah and looking after Brock, she hasn’t been in a while.

The whole drive Jose doesn’t say a word and neither does Brock. He’s glad when Jose turns the volume of the music up even more, so the silence between them isn’t as painfully obvious.

Also, it’s a good distraction. Whenever he gets too caught up in his thoughts and feelings, thinks about talking to Jose and apologising to him, maybe even reach over and take his hand, then he concentrates on the unfamiliar music and the beat.

”How long are ya gonna take?” Jose asks when he has parked the car in the parking space of the wholesale market.

”Maybe about an hour or two?” His tone is softer now, because the brusk way Jose treats him hurts. Brock wants him gone and leave him alone, but just so they can both stop hurting. He knows he’s hurt Jose with his silence, but it was for his own good. Being around him however and not being able to talk to him and Jose acting this cold towards him, is torture. All of Brock’s wounds are open and bleeding again.

”Imma be back in two hours,” Jose doesn’t even look at him as he speaks, he is staring out the front windshield.

”Jose…,” Brock starts, but then stops himself. He doesn’t really know what to say and he should leave it anyway. ”Two hours, ok.” He gets out of the car and as soon as the door closes behind him, Jose speeds off and leaves him stranded at the parking space.

When the two hours are up and Jose isn’t back, Brock worries that he’s just left him there. He thinks about calling him, but it doesn’t feel right to call him now, when he has been avoiding his calls for months. So he waits in the burning heat, his sister’s purchases under his arm and all around him.

After thirty minutes Jose finally pulls up. He doesn’t say anything as Brock puts the things in the trunk and Brock can see that Jose has done some shopping himself. There’s bags with clothes and shoes, all of them brands Brock could never afford.

It’s getting dark as they drive back and Brock feels more and more tired. They are still not talking, because there’s too much that needs to be said, but more that needs to be kept in. It makes Brock even more tired and exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He leans his head back against the headrest and enjoys the feeling of the soft leather against his cheek, the cool air of the AC hitting his overheated face. He breathes in deeply, lets Jose’s scent wash over him, a mix with the scent of the leather of the seats and the night air.

Brock finally gives in and closes his eyes because they’re burning. He lets his left hand come to rest on the middle console.

He’s basically asleep when it registers in is subconsciousness that Jose’s fingers are laced through his, as he drives him back home. The warmth of the touch spreads from Brock’s fingertips through his whole body.

***

”Brock! Ada!” It’s his father who is yelling and Brock wonders if he’s only angry or also drunk. It’s barely noon and usually his father isn’t drunk at this time, but neither is he usually this angry.

”Hey dad,” Ada remains as friendly as ever, but Brock notices that she left the baby in the back, while four of her other kids are playing in the aisles of the store.

”Can y’all tell me what ya doing hanging out with that… guy?” his father comes straight to the point.

”What are you talking about?” Brock decides to play dumb, while he is secretly itching for a fight, has so for weeks.

”Don’t pretend ya don’t know what I’m talking about! Wilson just told me that the gay dancer is back in town and he’s been here in the store. And you’ve been seen with him at night when ya been taking stuff from his car!” Brock’s stomach clenches and he’s suddenly nauseous.

”You mean Vanjie? He helped us out by driving to Dallas and picking up stuff at the wholesale market.” Ada’s explanation sounds so innocent.

”Why’s he even back here?”

”Visiting Jason again?” Ada lies. They both know that’s not why Jose is back, even though they haven’t talked about it. Brock doesn’t really know yet how much his sister is involved in Jose coming back, but his gut tells him it’s a whole lot.

”And what do you have to do with Jason?” his father asks, then slams his cane to the ground. ”You stay away from these people, ya hear me? Both of you. And you,” he turns to Rachel, who has been watching the whole talk, ”no more dance lessons with the gays, no more of this music and these dance moves. No grand-daughter of mine will behave or dress like a whore!”

”Enough!” Ada raises her voice. ”You will not talk to my daughter that way or call her names.”

”I will talk to your daughter whichever way I want.”

”No, you won’t!” Ada interrupts him, her face red with anger. ”And while we’re at it: You will not talk to my children that way, you won’t swear or curse around’em, you won’t be drunk around’em and you won’t tell’em what to do. You hear me?” Brock stares at his sister in awe. The Lioness has entered and is fighting for her cubs.

”How dare you talk to me this way? Who do you think you are?” his father roars and steps closer to Ada, who doesn’t move an inch, even as Rachel hurries to her side.

”Don’t you dare!” Brock intervenes and steps between his father and his sister and niece, pushing him back. ”Don’t even think about it,” he hisses when he sees his father’s grip on his cane tighten.

”You think you can tell me what to do? The lover of all wronged and friend to all faggots. You’re a disgrace! All of you! God will punish you for the way you’re behaving! Mark my words.”

”Out!” Ada says, still not moving an inch, even though her father is still towering over her, with only Brock in between to stop him.

”You can’t throw me out. I’m your father!” The cane lifts off the ground, but Brock pushes his father backwards and into a shelf. It’s not a hard push, but it’s enough to put him off balance so he needs his cane back on the ground to catch himself.

”You heard Ada. Leave! Now!”

His father gapes at him in disbelieve and with anger written all over his face. He’s livid, but Brock’s anger matches his father’s.

”And don’t you dare ever raising a hand against my sister or niece ever again,” Brock adds, because at this moment for whatever reason he has the courage to do it. If his father’d try to beat him up, punch him and kick him like he used to do with them when they were kids, Brock would finally have an outlet for months of frustration and anger, because he would fight back this time.

”We’ve had enough of your anger and your cursing and your aggression. You’re a bully and a drunk. You talk about god and the church and you beat your own wife and children. Get the hell out of my store!” Ada yells. With one look back, his father leaves. Both Brock and Ada are breathing hard once he’s finally gone Rachel holding on to Ada’s side. They share a disbelieving look about what they just did and Brock feels a mixture of elation and fear.

”Mommy, you said hell,” Rachel timidly points out and makes the two adults in the room smile, as the random observation lightens the mood.

”I know, I’m sorry. I’ll ask for forgiveness later,” Ada tries hard not to laugh. ”Rachel, baby, will you check on Noah in the back?” She waits until her daughter is gone before she speaks again. ”Thank you.”

”There’s absolutely nothing you have to thank me for. I should have stepped in before when he got so aggressive towards you.”

”I don’t care what he does to me, even though Joe had a talk with him about that before. But he doesn’t lay a hand on my children. I won’t have it!”

”You’re a great mom, Ada. I wish our mom was as strong as you,” Brock quickly reaches over and gives her a hug.

”Speaking of mom: Can you go and check on her? I’d hate it if he lets out his frustration on her and uses her as a punching bag.”

”Sure. You gonna be ok here with all the kids?”

”Of course. They’ll help me serve the customers,” Ada smiles and places a kiss on Brock’s cheek.

***

”Mom? Mom?” Brock calls as he enters the house and listens carefully for any sounds of a fight or a beating.

”Brock? What’s wrong?” She comes out of the kitchen, a kitchen knife still in her hands.

”Nothing, just… was dad here?”

”Yes, he came home, but then left again.” She says.

”Did he hurt you?” It’s the first time Brock has ever asked her this directly. They all know that his father beats his mother and they’ve all seen it. But no one ever talks about it. His mother looks surprised about the question, but then slowly shakes her head.

”No, he was upset and was cursing Ada, Rachel and you. That’s all.”

”So he didn’t hit you?” He asks again, just so they’re clear.

”No.” At his mother’s reassurance, Brock feels relieved. ”What happened?”

”He came into the store and was angry about Jason’s friend helping out Ada. He cursed in front of the kids, told Rachel she wasn’t allowed to go to dance class anymore and threatened Ada.”

”What do you mean threatened?”

”He nearly hit her with the cane.”

”He’s her father.” His mother replies with a shrug, like that explains everything.

”Exactly, he’s our father and your husband and that still doesn’t give him the right to beat any of us. It’s wrong now that we’re all adults and it was even worse when we were kids.”

”Kids need to learn to respect their parents and behave. Otherwise they won’t behave outside in society and that’s not god’s way. They need to have respect.”

”We never respected him, mom. We feared him,” Brock sighs and sits down on the sofa. ”Ada threw him out of the store when he threatened Rachel. I think she’s finally had enough. I had to step in. I won’t have him beat up my sister or my niece.”

”It’s not right Brock, none of it. Rachel shouldn’t be with these gay people and listen to this music and wear these clothes. Ada shouldn’t disrespect her father. And you, you’ve changed. You’re not even going to church anymore and hang out with the wrong people. Your father was just upset and he has a right to be.”

”So you agree with him?”

”I agree with his opinion, but not with the beatings,” she finally admits.

”Jose, that’s Jason’s friend, helped us out a lot, while he was here the last time. Without him I wouldn’t have been able to get to Dan when he was in hospital, Rachel would have had to ride her bike alone in the middle of the night and Noah would have been born either at home or somewhere between here and the hospital.” Talking about it makes Brock feel even worse about the way he treated Jose. ”And Jason isn’t a bad person either. He cares about the kids and is a good teacher. I don’t know him that well, but he’s always friendly, even though everyone in this town treats him like crap. I’ve decided that I’ve had enough, mom. Enough of the hate that the reverend preaches and enough of the prejudices and the pettiness. The bible talks about love and compassion, but all the reverend gives us are rules on how to mistreat and judge each other. I can’t do it no more. It makes me sick. I work from morning till night, seven days a week. I help Ada and I help Dan on top of running this farm. I have no life of my own and I’ve never complained. But I won’t be controlled anymore, not by dad and not by the reverend.” Brock tells his mother with all the seriousness the matter needs. He has never talked to his mother as openly before. It’s not like she ever asked about his thoughts. ”Rachel is a child and all Ada wants for her is to have some fun. We never had any fun growing up, mom. There was church and school and work. And in between the beatings from dad. I don’t blame you, but I can’t pretend that I understand you either.” He sighs heavily. ”All I’m saying is that I’ve had enough. No more.”

”What does that mean? You leaving?” His mother asks him, her face unreadable.

”Do you want me to leave?”

”No, of course not,” she shakes her head. ”Who’s supposed to do the work around here, if you leave?”

That one hits him harder than his father’s beatings ever could and leaves him gasp for his next breath. Then Brock swallows hard, clears his voice. ”Is that the only reason? The farm? Work?” It’s hard to keep the tears at bay, when it’s made clear to him that that’s all he is, even for his mother: a worker, stable boy, another source of income.

”No,” she says finally, her face still stoic. Then she gets up and gives his shoulder a squeeze. ”No,” she repeats quietly and disappears back into the kitchen.

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #m/m au #slow burn #romance #smut #angst #hot as hell and no ac #blackhighheels #tw religion #tw internalized homophobia

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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All-Star Superman #2

A scant year to the day since part 1!

All evidence to the contrary I actually have always wanted to go back to this, especially since I keep getting asked if I’ll do so and it stirs my omnipresent sense of guilt over my lack of productivity, and also the last year has not resulted in a mass turnaround of people realizing it’s a for-real good book and not just comfort food so this remains necessary. This isn’t going to be quite as in-depth as the first go-around - both that as the introductory issue and that as the introductory recap had a lot of groundwork to lay - but still plenty to cover, as this issue sets up Lois and Superman’s arcs for the series, which is rooted (amazingly, especially right off the bat, given the book’s reputation of being about how amazing Superman is) in how badly Superman’s let his fears and shortsightedness poison the most important relationship in his life.

If the first issue is the big classic Superman material - Superman saving the day from the monster! Lois and Clark and the rest of the Daily Planet crew! Lex Luthor’s sinister schemes! A ticking clock to doom! - this scales all the way down to the uncomfortably, stiflingly intimate. Classic archetypal Superman stuff gives way to the most Silver Age issue: casual huge ideas, relationship drama, misunderstandings, last-minute reveals that recontextualize the entire issue, and baaaarely latent psychodrama bubbling up at the edges. In service of that the visual framing here is not unlike a stage play, a limited set of physically connected locales as a pair of figures bounce off one another. Quitely and Grant’s work is therefore comparatively subdued next to issue #1, keeping to traditional panel layouts and wide or medium shots with a background color palate of mostly blacks and whites and grays with a handful of other colors popping out...until Lois starts to lose her shit at the end of the issue and we get close-ups and full black and white panels and eerie glowing and dutch angles and that unsettling abstract image of her clenched teeth, as the story starts to squeeze us like Lois’s gut.

She’s right to be unsettled for that matter; she’s alone on Superman’s turf (the one issue where that’s the case other than #6, and that one’s about how Smallville stopped being his home), the weird antiseptic alien lair of the ultimate super-hobbyist, and all the baggage of their relationship is spilling out into the open as she has less and less reason to think the best of this odd man who’s been lying to her for years. Unlike the Silver Age tales this is referencing, she’s absolutely on the money with her complaints about him: he’s been dicking around with her forever and thinks it can all be okay now (His little “What?” on the second page when she bursts his bubble says it all), and he’s awkwardly overcompensating trying to fix it.

While the Fortress tour serves to peacefully acclimate us to how utterly bizarre Superman’s world really gets past the traditional rescues (the little cubic starfield we don’t know the meaning of yet, trophies are floating rather than physically suspended, the glowing flowers in Lois’s room, “The Phantom Zone map room’s pretty dull unless you can see radio-negative anti-waves”), Superman himself is...humblebragging isn’t the right way of putting it, but it feels like he’s working way, way harder than he ever will again in this book to be cool and impressive and assuring. He’s a dope in love, but he can tell something’s up and that super-brain of his isn’t putting the obvious pieces together, or noticing that this is just putting her off further and further until, like Bluebeard’s wife before her, she stumbles through the threshold of the door she was never meant to, even of course in the end he’s still Superman and there’s a perfectly good reason. Not a good enough reason, however, for her accusations at dinner to not hit home - his mind may be expanding, but he’s still way up his own ass here in a genuinely unpleasant way that’ll be elaborated on momentarily. For now he’s left stammering that she should trust him and it’s limp and phony, especially compared to his big entreaty for someone to trust him in #10 (which’ll be right after he finally comes clean with her); while Superman may not be considered a savior figure by his friends in here the way he often is in the mainline comics Lois seems to be the only one who doesn’t look up to him at least a little bit, but that clarity means she’ll call him out where no one else will.

Across the next two pages it’s all laid out, and we get to the roots of where things have gone wrong between the two of them. Lois is paranoid, certainly, the panels are literally squeezing in on her, but with Superman seeming so out-there and alien like never before she would have every right to be even sans alien chemicals. But notably there remains throughout a part of her assuming the best of him wondering if maybe this is just another big misunderstanding or that he’s simply been mutated by the solar overexposure. And in her heart of hearts, she admits that maybe she wants this to be another big damn trick with a completely sensible justification, because the alternative is that this is the new normal and she has to accept that he’s a flawed mortal man. It’s ugly and it’s mean - especially since she likes Clark - and it’s human as hell in the worst, most understandable way. It’s not going to be until said mortality is staring her in the face that she’ll be able to accept it.

Superman, meanwhile...someone could write a thesis on these panels as an articulation of the Superman/Clark dynamic. The Mirror of Truth is actually preexisting, centerpiece of a Jerry Siegel/Curt Swan joint in Action Comics #269 that was later adapted into the Superman newspaper strip where Lois uses it to figure out Superman is Clark Kent until he tricks her into believing the mirror can lie, after which he tosses it in a volcano; here it’s survived, and curiously shows him as Superman rather than Clark, when in the original tale it displayed Kent even though that was fully the era of Clark as a disguise. In here too it’s Superman who’s the ‘true’ identity of the two and which this time is reflected in the mirror, yet as in #1 it’s Clark who says what he’s truly feeling. In that light, the final panel of the abandoned glasses reads like nothing so much as Superman using the mirror as affirmation that the truth of the solemn, steadfast Superman identity gives him licence to deny the uncomfortable emotions his squishy human farmboy side is dredging up, ‘lying’ to him in a way he had to fake in the source material. Those emotions however knock right on the door of what he can’t grasp here: Clark’s so wrapped up in his own head trying to do the ‘right’ thing that he’s overlooking how his attempts at self-sacrificing selflessness are hurting the people around him. Throughout the series he’ll come to rely on others, first at his lowest points with Jimmy and the Bizarros, until at last he comes to invest true trust in Lois, and the Kandorians, and Leo Quintum, and even Lex.

For now though Lois is deep in a hole, a brief but memorable meeting with the Unknown Superman of 4500AD - everything Superman seems to be becoming to her even before she wonders if it’s literally him, cryptic and masked and with a big ‘ol question mark right on his chest instead of the familiar comforting logo, even his gutbuster of a question reinforcing his distance from a recognizable human experience - leading her all the way to reimagining her Silver Age ideal happy ending of marriage and family with Superman as a Cronenbergian horror. It’s still a Superman story, it turns out he had the very best reason possible for wanting to keep her in the dark, but right through to the end he remains just a little condescending in his reassurance, and his gift of essentially bringing her up to his ‘level’ isn’t going to solve the problem. While the next issue lets us see the two of them properly in love, it won’t be until the elephant in the room comes out that they can come to terms.

Additional notes

* God Quitely is so good. Look at the way the seatbelt curves in the first panel! Lois’s bemused little disbelieving smirk!

* Pages 2-3: Aurora Borealis?!

* Lois is the only character other than Superman who gets to have actual narration (in both cases as looks at their in-text writing), the only one whose viewpoint is thus privileged in the same way as his.

* The key is the realization of this series’ aesthetic in a nutshell: the old-school idea in a sleek, shiny, clever new way that doesn’t take away from the fantastical toyeticness of it all. For that matter, the key is the centerpiece of a later bit with Superman that could be fairly described as the long-term goal of the book book as Morrison’s hoped-for perennial: “One day some future man or woman will open that door, with that key. When they do, I want them to know how it felt to live at the dawn of the age of superheroes.”

* This is A. The first note of a larger DC universe existing offscreen, something that I’ll go into more when discussing #8, B. A brilliant, concise, fun little summation of his place in Superman’s world, and C. Absolutely hilarious given Morrison suggested in his exit interview that this could be seen as much later on in the same universe as All-Star Batman & Robin The Boy Wonder, which entirely rewrites the tone of that moment.

* Already discussed the key but the muscles in Superman’s hand tensing a bit at picking it up is another great detail.

* The glimpse of the Fortress here is excellent: the statues of his friends and enemies instead of pictures because he does things bigger with the yellow electric something crackling at the end of it, the off-model but curious-looking robot appearing to glance at Kandor (are it and the bigger robot with the seats on top of it trophies, or Superman Robots with different designs tasked for specific purposes?), the classic Bad Penny Good For One Crime, the Legion time bubble that establishes his time-traveling credentials for later, the Titanic where he and Lois will dine when their relationship hits a proverbial iceberg, and most strikingly the space shuttle Columbia, his apparent rescue of which I have to imagine is a reference to Astro City’s Superman analogue Samaritan debuting by averting the Challenger disaster.

* It’s next issue that has my actual favorite Superman/Lois moment of all time, but “When we’re married fifteen years, when I’m sagging and he looks just the same, will he still meet me and say things like...” “These are for you. I picked them on Alpha Centauri 4.” is right up there.

* The technological aesthetic of the Fortress is so different than P.R.O.J.E.C.T., sleek and solid and cleanly-lit and antiseptic, beautiful and advanced but a little cold in its own way. As stuffed with wonder as this place may be, there’s something hauntingly empty about it, suiting both the tone of the issue and as a physical embodiment of Superman’s emotional state. The one part that goes against it is the forbidden room, it even has beakers and test tubes to sell the mad scientist vibe...though if you were to stretch it, it much more close resembles the human technology seen at P.R.O.J.E.C.T., and this is meant as a gift for one.

* The cosmic anvil made it along with the key into the CWverse, Lois used it in Elseworlds! I may not be expecting All-Star quality from the upcoming Superman and Lois, but it’s good to know the powers that be are using it as a reference point (beyond how it inspired Supergirl’s take on Cat Grant, a connection I discussed in a post that seems to have vanished into thin air). The whole page is perfect, Superman at his most joyfully benign and beautiful and godlike; it’s the one bit where Lois’s skepticism cracks a touch watching him feed his adorable little Lovecraftian abomination from beyond the stars.

* While he never appears physically aside from a statue Brainiac hovers over this series from beginning to end in name and deed, the ominous ultimate enemy of Superman’s past, the great trial overcome even as the scars forever remain. Morrison mentioned in the exit interview that he didn’t appear in here because he and Quitely already used him as the villain of JLA: Earth 2, but that if he had it would have borrowed Superman: The Animated Series’ take on him as a Kryptonian AI gone rogue. Personally I like his place in here as-is, a little totem parallel to the Justice League references indicating the breadth of Superman’s history between putting on the cape and Luthor’s final scheme.

* A pair of minor notes: Lois points at Superman with the pointy fork when asking him pointed questions, and while it’s not immediately clear on first read she does in fact ask the Unknown Superman exactly 3 questions (“Kal Kent?” “Will Superman and I ever marry and have children?” “What do you mean?”) before he replies with his own, as promised.

* “Oww.” and “Tickles.” literally could not be more perfect Superman moments.

* Worth taking a moment to marvel at just how many future plot elements are seeded here. There’s the obvious bit of Superman thinking about having a partner setting up the next issue, but we also for issue #6 have our first look at Kal Kent and Lois wondering “What if (the Unknown Superman) was really (Superman)?” when Clark will indeed pose as him, for #10 we get our first look at Qwewq, and for #11 not only is the Sun-Eater introduced but so is Robot 7′s malfunction as a result of Luthor’s tampering.

* The structure of the series according to Morrison is a solar cycle, beginning and ending at midday with nightfall in the center. If last issue was the sun at its brightest we begin the descent here, with Superman remaining larger-than-life and ultimately trustworthy but with his classic persona and habits held to an additional, unflattering degree of scrutiny.

#All Star Superman #Superman #Lois Lane #Grant Morrison #Frank Quitely #Jamie Grant #Phil Balsman #Art #Silver Age #Clark Kent #Batman #All Star Batman & Robin the Boy Wonder #Fortress of Solitude #Astro City #DCTV #Brainiac #Opinion #Analysis

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atomicwedgienerd · 5 years

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A Flat Top For A Square Guy

Incredible art by the extremely talented @buzztoons. Follow him, give him some love, and commission something you nerds!

For those of you who know me, you know over the past few months I’ve gone from WANTING to live like a nerd to ACTUALLY doing it. I wanted to talk about that here.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a nerd. Maybe it was being raised during Urkelmania, or watching Saved by the Bell, or catching Revenge of the Nerds one too many times. But the one constant in my life is that I’ve always wanted to be a complete nerd stereotype.

As a kid, I would dress up as a nerd, make my own suspenders, even steal my dad’s glasses to dress up and pretend like that’s who I was. But I could never make it happen. I could never get the balls up to actually leave the house dressed like a geek.

Maybe as a reaction to the thrill I found from wearing ties and pocket protectors and suspenders, I got really into dressing “hip.” Skinny jeans, leather jackets, V-necks. I was already agonizing over my image so I leaned into looking as cool and tough as possible, so nobody would know that I went home to put on nerdy clothes and rub myself through a pair of tighty whiteys.

But the yearning was so strong it was starting to drive me insane. How could I spend my life denying what I wanted to be, what I actually was? I made such amazing progress in my kink life: I got beaten, spit on, tied up, dominated, and abused. But this one thing that was so central to my desire had to stay partitioned off.

At some point in the height of the Obama Administration, I discovered that I wasn’t alone. The internet showed me stories of handsome jocks becoming sniveling little nerds living lives of abject humiliation. As their appearance became dominated by thick glasses, overstuffed pocket protectors, and extremely high-waisted plaid pants, their lives became a never-ending nightmare of wedgies, swirlies, and noogies. In other words, my dream life.

And there was one motif that cropped up repeatedly: the bad boy being forced to get an extremely rigid, extremely retro FLAT TOP HAIRCUT. Like Samson before them, as soon as these rebels had their hair shorn into this retro conservative haircut, they changed. They became well behaved, they started wearing white button downs and ties and glasses, they lost everything that made them cool. That was it! That was my answer. THE FLAT TOP.

I didn’t get one. I had luscious curly hair, thick and cascading in beautiful waves. The kind of hair that barbers dream of cutting. Hair that was perfect for a high fade with tons of length on top. It looked gorgeous. It looked... cool.

The Doms I played with told me to get a flat top. “It will change you,” they said. I refused to listen. I could just come home after work and put on my suspenders and pocket protector, load my hair up with gel, and comb it into a nerdy side part. That was enough. Except, it wasn’t. I would jerk off in my gear and once the thrill had passed, I would wash the gel out of my hair and go back to being “me.” I had a closet full of nerdy gear I wanted to wear, and it just sat there, waiting.

But then I moved to Chicago. I thought starting fresh would give me the balls to really start living full time as a nerd. It didn’t. I started this blog, wrote stories about extreme transformations I wanted to go through, and then went back to my life as an unfulfilled hipster. It was tearing me apart.

Maybe it’s the political climate, the not knowing what the future holds. Maybe it’s the fact that I had finally started chastity and was getting in touch with my true desires. But I started thinking about flat tops again. You can’t just wash a flat top out. If you get a flat top, that’s it. That’s your hair style. Just a geeky jarheaded look you can’t undo.

I couldn’t stop looking at images of FLAT TOPS on Instagram, imagining “what if.” Imagine my surprise when I realized that all of the flat tops I loved were tagged in Chicago, from the same barber, one that I passed every day on my way to work. This was fate. I made my appointment and waited.

Finally the day came and I was ready to back out. I had dressed in highwater pants and a button down with a pocket protector. I had already shaved my beard a month before to prepare myself for this drastic, clean cut, goody goody change. I was ready to accept my fate but the anxiety was killing me. Soon my shorn nerdy head would be on full display and I didn’t think I was ready. But I went to a bar near the barbershop, drank two whiskeys, and headed on in. I asked for the flat top and the barber grinned. He loved cutting them.

He didn’t let me see what he was doing and, for my part, I did a good job of maintaining casual conversation. I gulped and stammered as I saw long curls fall onto the cape and drop to the floor. But when he whipped me around to look at the final product, I just about fainted. My head was flatter than a table. It made my ears stick out in a super dorky way. And when I put my black rimmed glasses on, I looked like the person I had always dreamed of being.

I ran home, sucked my boyfriend’s dick, and went to bed, humping the mattress.

The next day, I put on my old clothes and went to work. But it didn’t feel right. I had the hair I had always wanted but everything felt wrong. My flat top hadn’t fixed my problems. I went home, dejected.

The next morning, however, as I applied wax to my new, extremely short hair, something came over me. It felt so good to prep this dorky retro haircut. I just had to wear a dorky retro outfit to match. I put on some highwater pants that went above my waist, a white button down, some white socks, black boots and said, “Fuck it.” I slid a pocket protector into pocket with just one pen, took a deep breath, and headed out to the train.

The commute was terrifying, every moment inching closer to having all my coworkers see me like I had just stepped out of a time machine from Mission Control 1963. But I did it. I got to work, took off my coat, and got ready. There were some smirks from a few people. One coworker even came over, looked at my haircut, and flicked me in my pocket protector, saying, “Well this really completes the look.” I was humiliated. I didn’t want to do it again.

But the next morning, as I waxed the flat top, the same power took over. How could I have such a perfect nerd haircut and not go out in a perfect nerd outfit? I put on another pair of highwaisted pants, my thick glasses, and a pocket protector, now with TWO pens. And went off to work.

Every day was a thrill. People would stare and I would just beam back at them, happy as a clam. My mood improved. After all, I looked like I was from Leave It to Beaver, so I might as well be as chipper as a cast member. Every day I would put another pen in my pocket protector until it filled up. I started applying more and more product to my hair to make it as rigid as possible. I found myself proudly marching down the street, my jarhead reflecting light off the horseshoe, the white socks gleaming brightly between the hem of my pants and my black leather shoes, my pocket protector stuffed full of pens. I was finally myself and it was amazing.

My relationship had been tested as all I wanted to do before my transformation was jerk off to stories I had written or roleplays I had done. My boyfriend couldn’t compete with that ideal fantasy. But the fantasy became a reality. I found myself becoming more submissive, more able to articulate my desires, and I stopped blaming him for not reading my mind and libido. I was a nerd now. I could be used the way nerds would be used. My boyfriend figured it out. He would pull me into a headlock, noogie me while I sucked his dick, and then come in my flat top. On good days, he would even knock me down afterwards and take money out of my wallet, before winking and kissing me.

Was I getting wedgied non stop? Had I suddenly broken out in zits and been forced to do tons of homework? Did I shrink to 5′2″ and lose all my muscle mass and pee myself whenever a jock looked at me funny? No, not at all. Those were the things I wrote about. The things I fantasized about. The things I wanted. But they were fantasy. THIS was reality. I was dressed out in public as the nerdiest person I had ever seen. Who cared if it didn’t match up with some extreme over the top fantasy. That was porn. This was real.

As opposed to the characters in my stories who usually lose their confidence and end up meek and shy, I became the opposite. I became friendlier, more outgoing, eager to go out in the world! The more I lived my life as a nerd, the more people would see me. If they didn’t care, great. If they laughed at me, well they’re terrible people but also I like getting laughed at so thanks for the spank bank material, ya jerks. And maybe, just maybe, they see me waddling around with my pants above my belly button and my flat, flat flat-top and think, “Wow, I’ve always wanted to be brave enough to do that. If that jerk can, I can too.”

Now I get to live my truth. I get to see my barber every two weeks and ask him to take the flat top shorter, more severe, even got a horseshoe. They say the thing about flattops is they never grow back. So far, that seems to be the case. I look straight out of the 1950s and I couldn’t be happier.

I’m not a nerd from my stories. I still have tattoos and a septum piercing and a lot of attitude. But I am nerdier than I ever thought I would be. I dress like this around friends, family, and coworkers. I used to go out partying, drinking, smoking and cursing. Now, I curse less, I go to bed earlier and wake up with the crack of dawn, I’m even finding myself more studious and polite. I spend my free time reading about D&D and playing video games. I’m not going to hide it anymore. I get to look like a dweeb for the rest of my life and it’s amazing. And it all started--the thing that made it all possible--is one perfect flat top.

If you’re curious about nerdification, please join us at the nerdified discord. Sorry this isn’t an over the top fantasy like the rest of my stories but I wanted to share my personal journey. I hope this helps you decide to take the reins of your own transformations and I’m happy to respond to any questions you may have!

#nerdtf #nerdification #goodytwoshoes #hipsters #goodygoody #bad boys #flattophaircut #flat top haircut #retrohair #tie #pocketprotector #highwaters #suspenders #male tf #gaytf #transformation #maletransformation #reallife #truestory

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kenzierose53 · 4 years

Text

Promises (xi)

The more memories I get back the less worthy I feel for Orpheus. He is such an amazing human and I am just me. I was nothing special. I don't know why he chose me, why he continued to choose me. Persephone has really been working to try to make sure that I continue to keep an open mind about things but it's so hard when all I see are the mistakes that I made.

"Remember, I said that this wasn't going to be easy," she whispered as she held me. I had just woken up from a dream where he went out to get me medicine because I was really ill. He also made me soup and took care of me all day. It was super sweet and just showed me how great he was. By this time in my memories, Hades had come to take Persephone and the world around us was wilting away fast. "From what you have told me about where you are," she paused looking at me cautiously, "I fear tonight's dream might be quite hard to take in."

I couldn't bring myself to speak, instead, I just nodded my head sadly. I don't know what I am going to be seeing if she was worried about it. For the past few weeks, she has been super optimistic and excited for me to go to sleep but today seems different. We had headed back to my place quite a while ago but she has been stalling leaving. Her hesitation to leave caused my anxiety to spike and that caused my breakdown. She's been trying to comfort me but has been failing. "I'm scared," my voice was small, shaky.

"And you have every right to be dear," her words were slightly comforting. "What you are going through is a scary experience."

I suddenly felt shameful for being so upset the past few days. Persephone has been doing me the world's biggest favor and I am repaying her by crying over everything. From what I have seen in my past I wasn't someone to get so upset so easily. Who am I now? "I'm sorry."

She shook her head looking at me confused, "Why are you sorry? You haven't done anything wrong." She shot me a smile which put me at ease a bit.

Looking down in shame I said, "For getting upset over everything. You knew me and I never used to be this way. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm weak."

She put a finger under my chin forcing me to look up. "First off never apologize for having feelings. You can't control the way you feel and you should never feel bad about that. Having feelings make you human, it makes you real." She wrapped me into a hug, it was comforting. Slowly I was starting to calm down. "You're not weak Eurydice, you never will be. You're one of the strongest people I know. You have been through so much and you are getting so many memories back all at once, it's a lot to take it. You are experiencing so many emotions at one it's overwhelming. When things calm back down you will see that. You're never gonna go back to who you used to be fully. You're gonna come back stronger with a different outlook on life."

Her words were so convincing I felt hope blooming in my chest. I felt this rush of strength come through me. I could do this. I am going to be a better person after that. I am going to be better for him. "I can do this!" She just smiled brightly at me and tapped her finger on my nose. "I think I am ready to tackle tonight's memory. No matter how tough it is I know I am stronger now." She just wrapped me into a tight hug and bid me good luck.

I went and prepared the tea as I hummed the song my poet used to sing. He was the perfect human being truly. I can't wait until I can go home and be wrapped in his arms again. I want to hear him call me beautiful, caress me, and just love me all over again. Everything about him keeps me going. I hope everything with him is going okay up top. I know Persephone told me at the beginning that he wasn't doing too well but she said when she left that he was doing better. I worry for him though. He has such a big heart; I can only imagine what my absence is doing to him.

Orpheus and I were at work. I couldn't be more grateful for Hermes allowing me to work here at the bar. At first, I was really worried he wouldn't allow me to. When I first met him I was terrified of him honestly. He was so full of wisdom and knowledge that I thought I was too inferior to be in his presence. Since I have been with Orpheus, Hermes has become a sort of father figure to me. I could always trust him to give me counsel when I need.

Orpheus has been cleaning tables as I tended the bar. We would always find times to sneak glances at each other. He makes me beyond happy. I hadn't realized that I dazed out until I felt arms wrap around my midsection. He placed a kiss on my cheek and whispered in my ear, "Let's go upstairs."

Looking around I saw that the bar was empty and the lights had been turned off. Nodding my head, I let him lead me upstairs. "Did we close early?" Normally we wouldn't be off for a few more hours but we are done now. Looking out the window I saw dark clouds rolling in.

Orpheus explained that there was a storm rolling in so Hermes decided to close early. I told him that I would prepare us something to eat and he said he was gonna work on the song while he waited. Walking into the kitchen I saw that we were running super low on food. I barely had enough to whip up something small while I listened to him sing. The food we had was only enough for one plate. I should give it to him, he's working so hard to fix things. I brought him the plate and kissed him on the cheek. "Did you already eat? I thought we were going to eat together."

Oh, shoot. I don't eat a lot because he deserves more of our food. He gets suspicions when I only bring him a plate. Normally I am really good at saying that I already ate but for some reason right now it seemed too hard to lie. "Yeah," I rushed out. Before he could respond I cut him off, "I need to run to the market to get us more food. If there is a storm coming on we need to be prepared."

He raised an eyebrow at me as if he knew that I was lying. "Do you want me to go with you?" I just shook my head at him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. "You're not leaving without giving me a proper kiss." Smiling at the poet I grabbed his face and gave him a proper kiss. I pulled away and he rested his forehead on mine, "Be careful." His voice was quiet.

I grabbed my coat and waved goodbye to Orpheus. He gave me his award-winning smile before saying goodbye. The wind outside was bitter. It cut through the ratty coat I had like it was nothing. The clouds above were getting darker and darker with each step I took. My body was starting to feel weak but I know I have to keep pushing. Orpheus is depending on me to bring home food.

I had just finished at the market when the snow began to fall. It was falling in heavy blankets making it difficult to see. The wind had picked up making it even colder. It felt like my coat wasn't even on. The lack of food was making me feel like I could pass out at any minute. The only thing keeping me going was the image of my Orpheus.

Suddenly I felt that someone was tugging at my backpack. Behind me, one of the Fates had pulled my backpack away. I yanked it away from her. "Give that back!" She just shot me a sinister smile. I turned to continue going but another Fate ripped the bag right out of my hands. "It's everything we have!" They just laughed at me.

The storm around me had gotten worse. I couldn't see anything anymore the snow was blowing so badly. My sense of direction was gone. I was lost. The fates started pulling at my jacket. "Orpheus!" I screamed out for my poet. I have no clue where I am but I hope he can hear me. They were successful in ripping off my coat and they retreated to the shadows. I screamed his name again but there was nothing.

My body collapsed onto the freezing ground. I was too weak. I wasn't gonna make it home. Orpheus please find me. "Hey, little songbird," a deep voice said from behind me. Turning I saw an older gentleman in a dark suit and dark glasses. He asked me to sing him a song and while I was beyond weak I wanted to do nothing more than do what he asked.

I clutched my flower in my hand as this man offered me a choice. He was offering me food, shelter but it came at a price. Orpheus hasn't found me; he won't find me. This man instilled so many fears about my future with Orpheus that the offer was becoming more and more enticing. He held out two coins, "What is it?" I slowly approached the coins, their shine calling to me.

"Your ticket," he said with a smirk. The coins were dropped into my hand and he disappeared. Was I really considering leaving behind the poet? I don't want to but maybe it's for the better. I am only taking away resources from Orpheus. He'll be better off without me, right?

My stomach grumbled loudly. Hades is offering me food, warmth and right now that sound like a dream Out here in this snowstorm with no food in my stomach, do I have a choice? I started to cry when I realized that I only had once choice. The path to the train station became clear to me in the storm.

"Orpheus, my heart is yours, always was and will be," I mumbled on my way to the platform. Part of me prayed he heard me and is coming to stop me. "Oh my heart it aches to stay but the flesh will have its way. Oh, the way is dark and long. I'm already gone." Hermes stood on the platform with sad eyes. I felt ashamed to be handing him the chips. He just gave me a sad smile and directed me to the train. "I'm gone," I whispered one last time before the doors started to shut. I threw Hermes my flower hoping he gave it to Orpheus.

I'm sorry Orpheus.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #orpheus #eurydice #persehone #hades #fanfic #promises

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kurtty-drabbles · 4 years

Text

The Omen au (part 16)

N/A: Mike is having fun with friends. Rogue manages to enter in contact with him and Doom is arranged to someone to go after Mike as Prof X is testing Mike´s personality. Kitty is sorting things with her mom.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead

The news of the Avengers hit the X-men hard, not out of love for this team, in fact, Scott is a great anti-fan of this group, but, rather how easy the group who faced aliens together is so now against each other. Bobby Drake and Spike are sharing the news with Michael who is also not taking the news well.

“So…they´re just gone?” Michael is not a fan of the Avengers, but, knows enough thanks to Tony Stark´s commercials and interviews about the team and how the public reacts to each Avengers and often left a poor taste on his mouth.

“Yeah, they´re gone. Scott is happy, but, Jean is concerned…if they can be dissolved so easily…can we be too?” Evan asked worried as the X-men are his second family and if he loses them…

“I´d not think it will happen…the Avengers tried to split the team, yes Scott told me about the recruitment program, and failed…whatever happened to them won´t happen to us” Bobby promised and Mike offers a small smile. They can´t know the future and speaking only for himself, and only in the safety of his mind, is possible to break any group…you just need to find the weak link.

“Change the subject! Hey, Mike, how are you dealing with all of this?” Spike asked giving full attention to the blue boy who is dreading this conversation. “if you´d not want to talk is fine…I get it” and Mike would like to say that no one could get it, but, then again…what he has to lose?

“Her mother thinks I´m the anti-christ if that´s not a bad first impression…” he jokes mildly. “If I think I´m the antichrist? I´d not know…not a religious person and my mother NEVER talk to me about my father….maybe they think I´m …but I think I´m just a mutant” and this a good answer for the boys. A good answer to soothe their concerns and doubts, but, Mike still has fears, but, he´s good in concealing. If, in the worst cases, he´s the anti-christ…what this will change for him? Nothing.

One month in the school and Michael Darkholme knows how to survive in here and how to blend in…and Michael quite likes here. He can move freely and can interact with more people. Marrow, one of Kitty´s friends show up and she´s funny(“so you´re blue bada badda?” “I´m not getting the reference”) and he has hobbies here.

Michael likes to cook and modesty apart, and Mike really does not like to brag all that much, he can make really good cupcakes. Kitty, sadly, still is getting the gist of how a cupcake should look like.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty is having problems with her newfound powers and understandably so, Wanda is not present to help her, but, even if she was Scarlet Witch is the one to advocate for self-learning, so in the end, Kitty has to solve the problem on her own.

Terry Pryde knocks on her door to see her only daughter levitating her own bed and chatting some words that Terry has no idea of its origins. Once Kitty noticed her own mother, exchange a few words in Latin words, the bed is on the floor.

“Mom?” she asked and Terry is more than happy to see her magic progress. Even if it means accept Kitty is no longer the little girl she once was.

“I´m fine, how was your magic training going?” Terry´s tone is amicable enough and Kitty gives a summarize of her magic tranining. It has a month since Scarlet Witch had shown up to teach witchcraft to Kitty and now with the news of the Avengers…and her supposed betray.

“Mom, you think she´s a traitor?” she asked looking at her hands for a moment and then to her own mother. “This is a mess. The Avengers blame Thor, Thor blames Scarlet Witch and Scarlet Witch is accepting the blame” and the teen looks desolated enough that Terry, not knowing much of magic, can only hug her and kiss the top of her head, as she tries to make sense of this situation.

“I can´t say much here, Kitten, your friend Wanda seems to have her own reasons. Are they good? Are they bad? Not sure, but, I do know that you” and she boop Kitty´s nose with her finger. “Shouldn´t worry about this and should worry more about yourself. Trying to fix everything in the world at once will give you a headache” and Kitty nods accepting those words or at least trying to.

“Mom…do you still think Michael is bad?” is a code to say if Terry still believes he´s the antichrist and tries at Kitty might but she can´t believe in this story of Satan being his father.

“I´d not know” a good lie and Kitty can see beneath it so easily that begs the question why Terry even lied in the first place. “I know you don´t believe me. I know you think I´m wrong and maybe I´m…but, after all, I saw and after all you did, we could agree that Satan existing and having a son is not impossible”

“Maybe” she conceded. “But it would kill you to see Michael as what he is, instead of what you feared him to be?”

“I think not” not a lie and not a truth either. Terry is still firm on her beliefs as is Kitty. Both Pryde women are equally stubborn right now and both think this is each other greatest flaw.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Prof X is looking at some footage of Michael Darkholme. Speaking with friends (how quick he is to make more friends), studying, partying (this one image is the reason for the kids to be grounded as their secret party wasn´t a secret at that time) and of course, getting together with Kitty Pryde.

“Is time to test him” Prof X stated and Courtney Ross is in the room with him, her magic is mostly connected to her domains, after all, Courtney is just a servant of Zaorva, but, she has her little tricks.

“Test? I think the best case here is to kill while he´s sleeping, Charles” Courtney nows how unpleasant the image would be, but, this is the only solution. “Thor has been corrupted thanks to the little demon, I´m sure. The Avengers are no more and Doom is too silent…Xavier, kill the child. Kill him now”

“No!” Prof X stated. “Not if there´s something worth saving in him. Besides, Dr Strange is also silent, is also working…” and Courtney stops him.

“He´s trying to speak with Pheonix…we need a plan C if that monster turns out to be a bigger monster than we thought”

“And so far?”

“Pheonix is not returning the calls. Dr Strange is not pleased…and you should kill the child NOW”

“No, one test, I just need one test…if he fails…you, Dr Strange and even Doom can kill him, hell, I´ll gladly help, all I ask is one test” he pleads and he remembers flashes of his son, Legion, and how Xavier was more than ready to murder the boy and…how in the end, he did.

Courtney closes her eyes. “One test. One, and if he fails…we´ll kill him and not give a damn about your opinion”

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Clea provides the news for Dr Doom. The King of this country can ignore the rejection Clean offered to him and be professional, as much Doom is a villain even him has standers, and her news pleased Doom greatly.

“The Avengers are no more. The X-men are afraid. Thor is too tired of Earth to care and he´s taking care of his daughter along with Amora, who has no intention in interfering with our plan as long we stay away from her island” and Doom, for the moment, has no problem in fulfil this small request even if he would love to have such powerful kid on his side. “Hela is still fighting Thanos…uhm, fighting and fucking” and even Doom makes a gross face even behind the iron mask.

“Uhm, great, we can carry on…and Prof X´s test?”

“Is ready to crash and burn as soon you gave your word”

“Excellent, Clea, prepare yourself…because this little test will be bloody and will end the X-men in one strike”

“As you wish”

#the omen au #michale darkholme #kitty pryde #Doom is planning #Thor´s plot? I think is sort resolved #He and Amora are fine in the island raising the kid #Will Veela grow up to kick ass? YES #Hela and Thanos fucking and fighting

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homiegeesus · 5 years

Text

The Year of Magical Thinking, Ch. 3

Summary: Francis Sinclair believed Arthur Morgan had not finished living. In a second chance at life, Arthur discovers what it means to love himself.

At the edge of a precipice and nowhere to run, Arthur concedes defeat. In an extraordinary turn of events, he is sent through the ether to another time where his path crosses with a group not too unlike his own family. After discovering the fate of those he loved before, he races to find a way back. But what if he realizes that there is something worth staying for in this new world? Can two people separated by nearly a hundred and twenty years of living find their happily ever after?

AO3 Link (edit: link fixed)

Author’s Note: So sorry for saying that I would post yesterday when I did not. We had some terrible weather 'round here, and it took me forever to get home last night. Long chapter is long, though. I know y'all are probably like "where is your OFC"? Well, she'll be introduced in the next chapter, I promise. I should have it posted in a couple of days. Shoutout to TheTiniestTortoise ( @shallow-gravy ) who has valiantly offered to beta this story (this chapter was not). Fair warning: I'm seriously going to take you up on this, so be prepared lmao. In the meantime, y'all need to go read "Blackbird's Song". It's a fantastic ArthurxOC take on the RDR2 plot, seriously drop everything and read it! Also, I created a "We Heart It" collection thing where I pin images that inspire me while writing. Just a warning, though: It might spoil some elements of the story. If you don't want any idea of where I'm taking the plot, do not click here.

Thank you to @tiesthatbind1899 (author of Memories of the West - another must read), for the idea. You're awesome.

Almost forgot, in this story, Blackwater is Dallas. I read in the wiki that Blackwater was likely modeled after early 20th century Dallas, so I'm running with it. Plus, it's where I live, and even though most authors can't agree on whether you should "write what you know", this is fanfiction, so hell yes I will write what I know...at least in the first few chapters lol. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and as always, constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated!

The Year of Magical Thinking

Chapter 3 - American Remains

Not knowing if the doctor wanted Arthur to follow, he stood for a moment and stared at the carving on the cave wall. After Steven exited the chamber, the cave was again silent allowing Arthur to observe and reflect. His fingers traced the broad lines of the design as he pondered just how the whole situation had come to pass. What an interesting sequence of events. One moment, Arthur was dying and the next he was not. Having been a hair’s breath away from death had changed him fundamentally. Suddenly being thrust into wellness had been jarring, to say the least. Itching to sketch the new carving, he reached to his side for his journal. Hand feeling empty air where his satchel would usually be, he closed his eyes and covered his face.

In a last act of brotherly affection, Arthur had given John his most important possessions: his father’s hat and his satchel along with everything in it. Suddenly, a deep homesickness fell on him like anvil. The realization that he would never see his family again caused a well of emotions to rise up and threaten to consume him whole. He didn’t belong in this place. If Arthur was a part of a dying breed back then, then how would one hundred and twenty years of so-called progress treat him? With no place to call home and not a penny to his name, how would he survive?

Feeling suddenly claustrophobic in this cool, damp place, Arthur turned and followed the path of Steven’s exit. As the natural light of the sun reached him, he felt a wave of humid heat hit his face, instantly causing tiny rivulets of sweat to breakout across his forehead. Finally exiting the cave, he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Even in the heat, Arthur delighted in clean, easy breathing. Tortured by diseased lungs in the past months, he had forgotten what it meant to be well.

Looking at his surroundings, he spotted Steven near a table off to the left of the clearing. Arthur began walking towards him, that is, until he spotted the younger man talking to himself. Rooted in place, he observed Steven holding what appeared to be a small black book while gesturing wildly with his arms.

Damn it, you old fool, Arthur inwardly chastised. He had driven the man to madness with his scarcely believable tale. He walked closer to make out the words coming from the young doctor. That’s when he heard the other voice bleeding from the air that surrounded them.

“Steven, my love, my future husband, my everything – if you do not make it to this dinner, I will leave you. And then, I’ll cancel you. You will be canceled!” The voice yelled, sounding as if it came from a phonograph. Arthur furrowed his brow and looked for the source.

“Nick,” Steven responded in voice that even Arthur could tell was full of condescension, “first of all, you know I love you, but you also know I hate these dinners. Secondly, I just told you that something came up at work.” He then cradled the little black book in both hands, thumbs moving wildly over the cover. “It’s incredibly important that –”

Nick interrupted, “It’s incredibly important that you be at this dinner. Steven, we’ve had this planned for two weeks. All of the partners are going to have their significant others with them. They’re expecting you there. They all fucking love you; always like ‘Steven is so charming’ or ‘God Nick, how did you bag a guy like Steven? He’s so funny and you are so – not.’”

Steven laughed, “They don’t say that.” He finally glanced up in Arthur’s direction, smile falling from his face.

“Ugh, yes they do. It’s annoying as shit. I mean, I can be funny,” the voice replied. Steven began looking from the book to Arthur and back again in quick succession.

“Babe, I gotta call you back –”

“Steven –”

“Nick,” Steven interrupted sternly, “I’ll call you right back, I promise.” Call? Arthur thought to himself. That little black book’s a telephone? Nah…

Nick sighed loud enough for both men to hear. “Just please show up tonight. It’s all I ask.”

Steven nodded as if he could be seen. Arthur thought maybe he could. They each said ‘I love you’ and Steven glanced up at him.

“Holy shit,” was all he said.

“What?” Arthur frowned.

Steven just shook his head and held out the little book, or whatever it was. From where Arthur was standing, he could barely discern what looked like a photograph. Steven glanced quickly between the object in his hand and Arthur’s face. He seemed to realize the older man’s cluelessness.

He dropped his arm halfway and grinned, “Oh sorry, you’re probably like ‘what the hell is this?” He gestured to the device and laughed. “Jesus, well, this is a phone. A telephone.” A flipped it in his hands, and then held it out to Arthur. “Go ahead. Check it out.”

Arthur stepped closer and cautiously took the gadget. Looking at it, what he saw would take him back some five years ago to a hunting trip he, John and Hosea had embarked upon in Tall Trees, a year before John had left to God knows where. The trip had been a fruitful one, as the trio had taken down a bear with size to rival the one they had caught in the Grizzlies. It was a good memory, set before his relationship with John had descended into spite and jealousy. He stared at the photograph, the sepia tone making it seem so unreal when his memories burst with color. Arthur, John and Hosea looking as serious as three feared outlaws could, each held rifles behind a large grizzly bear.

Arthur looked up to Steven, “Where’d ya get this?”

The corners of his mouth quirked as if he went to smile but then thought better of it. “That’s a, uh, long story. But I mean –,” Steven then smiled, “it’s you.” He laughed a little manically, “That’s you in that photo.”

Arthur, not realizing the significance of this moment, just replied with a shrug of his large shoulders, “Yeah.”

Steven briefly ran a finger over his lips as he continued to smile, “Dear God. How the hell did this happen?”

“Ain’t gotta clue,” the outlaw replied simply.

Steven just shrugged. “Well, in any case, we have to figure out what we’re gonna do with you. I mean,” he laughed, “you could come home with me, but my, uh – Nick would probably freak the hell out.” A considering look passed over his face. “Hey, you said you were sick before?”

Arthur nodded, “Yeah, but I ain’t coughin’ no more.”

“Tuberculosis?” Steven supplied. The other man’s eyes narrowed fractionally.

“How’d you know?” The doctor just gave a toothy grin.

“Mr. Morgan, you’re quite famous. Like Jesse James.” At Arthur’s perplexed face, he continued, “Didn’t you, like, have your own gang, or something? You know, like Jesse James did?”

Arthur laughed, “What? No.” He shook his head, “I was in one, but I weren’t the leader. That was Dutch.” Steven’s face lit in recognition.

“Oh yeah,” he then looked off to the side. “I haven’t seen any westerns since I was a kid, so I’m only vaguely familiar with the history.” He looked back to Arthur with a smile, “My friend Ada would know. She loves them.”

“Uh-huh. Western? Like a dime novel?” The outlaw asked, head tilted in question.

Steven shook his head. “No, movies. They’re like, uh –,” obviously wondering how to explain, “you know, moving pictures.”

“Oh yeah, I know ‘bout them. Used to go to the theater on special occasions an’ such,” Arthur recalled.

“Well, they’re a little different now,” the doctor laughed. “They’re in color and have sound, so –”

Arthur tracked his thumb across his stubbled chin. “Ain’t that somethin’,” he replied a bit in awe.

Steven smiled, “Yeah well, you’ve been portrayed a couple times, I think.”

Amazed, Arthur responded, “Yer kiddin’.” The younger man just shook his head.

“Nope. The only ones I know of came out a long time ago, like the ‘40s or ‘50s. Maybe earlier.” The outlaw lightly laughed.

He looked slyly to Steven. “Were they, uh – were they handsome?” The corner of Arthur’s mouth ticked slightly up.

Steven barked out a quick laugh. “Oh yeah. They were.” He shot the other man another toothy smile. “Though, I’m beginning to think that they didn’t do you justice!”

Unfamiliar with such bald-faced compliments, Arthur bowed his head in an attempt to hide the shy smile forming on his face. Damn it all, he didn’t have his hat. He just swatted his hand and said, “Nah.”

Steven was apparently having none of that. “Trust me, Arthur. Even covered in dirt, you’re a tall drink of water on a hot day.” He let out a loud guffaw at the sight of the blush that crept up on Arthur’s face. “I’m just messin’ with ya.”

Arthur just shrugged and tried to conjure up what little was left of his mean outlaw persona. “Yeah, well –”

“Alright,” laughing again, Steven stepped past Arthur, clapping him on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go turn off the generator and stuff, and then we’ll figure out what to do.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What in the hell was he going to do? Nick would kill him. No doubt about it. His future husband would whip out that Latin Fire and scorch him where he stood. Steven could see the inevitable conversation play out in his head. ‘Honey, I’ve brought home an outlaw from the 19th century. He’s going to be staying with us for a while. Oh, and he has a gun, and he could shoot us in our sleep and rob our corpses.’

“Jesus,” Steven said quietly to himself as he gathered the equipment around the worksite. His morbid train of thought was then interrupted by the shrill sound of his cellphone ringing. Grabbing the device from his back pocket, he looked at the screen.

Nick, the ID screamed at him. Steven stared at it a moment before answering.

“I swear I was just about to call you,” he started. He could hear the eye roll coming through the phone.

“Uh-huh. Why did you tell Jeremy to go home earlier?”

Shit. “Well, I uh –,” completely unsure with what to say and totally unfamiliar with lying to his partner, he explained the best he could. First though, “How did you know I sent Jeremy home?”

“You sounded weird when I spoke to you last, so I texted him. Stop trying to change the subject.”

Figures. He needed to teach the kid about worksite discretion. But right now, he had to get through this conversation. “Something did come up. Nick, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Nick responded in a concerned voice, “Steven, what is it? What happened?”

“Well – you see – I, uh, I’ve met someone else, and I’ve decided that we’re going to be together.” Steven paused a second, then added, “I’m leaving you.”

“Good lord, Steven. Be serious. I’m sitting here thinking you’re about to tell me you have cancer or something.”

“Oh, no. I’m healthy as a horse. I am leaving you, though.”

“Mi amor. Please. What’s going on?” Nick was sounding legitimately concerned now.

Steven sighed, “Look, I’ll tell you everything. This evening.” He added, “Just trust me. We’ll talk about it tonight after dinner, I promise.”

Giving a light chuckle, Nick reassured, “Okay, okay. I trust you. I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?��

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Steven turned and looked at Arthur across the clearing. The outlaw was sitting at the picnic table, arms folded. Suddenly remembering a part of their conversation from earlier, he looked again to his phone. Selecting a contact, he dialed Lauren Linklater’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Linklater.”

“Hey, it’s Steven. You gotta minute?”

He could hear a distinct crunching noise. “I’m at lunch. What’s up?” Always succinct and to the point. Steven appreciated that right now.

“Well, I have a question about something. Completely hypothetical,” he started.

“Okay.” She waited for him to elucidate.

“Okay, so again, completely hypothetical –”

“Steven.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I’ve got like ten minutes to eat before I have to go put my hands in some dude’s chest cavity –”

“Right. Yeah, sorry, so – say someone traveled through time from, I dunno, 1899 to our time. Would you be concerned about them getting deathly sick from something really simple, like a common cold? Would they be more susceptible?” Then he remembered, “Oh, and what if they had tuberculosis before they – you know, time-traveled?”

Steven figured she might be chewing her lunch, when it took a moment for her to answer.

“Is this a part of your weird cave art or something?” She asked.

“Rock carvings,” he corrected. “Well, kinda. I mean, yes. It is.” He explained, “I’m asking you because it’s a little bit outside my purview.”

“Okay, well, it’s a little bit outside of mine, too. This would be a great question for, I dunno, an epidemiologist or – heh, Doc Brown. I’m a general surgeon.”

Steve sighed, “Right. I just needed a quick opinion, so –”

“I just don’t want to give you incorrect information, especially for your job, ya know? If this is off the record, or whatever, I can try to resurrect some of the ole braincells from med school.”

He laughed, “Yes, if you could do that, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay, so I probably wouldn’t be too concerned about this hypothetical person getting a modern day cold. Our immune systems are pretty badass, and it’s been that way for a long time. I’d be more concerned about a modern-day person going back, like, five hundred years, I guess. Still, I would maybe want to do a blood test and a cheek swab to make sure they’re not bringing small pox or something with ‘em. You say this hypothetical dude had TB?”

“Yeah, but afterwards, he didn’t have any signs of still being sick. And before, he was near death, like minutes or hours away.”

“Okay, well, they’d probably need to get checked out anyways. TB is highly treatable with antibiotics these days, so not much to worry about. If this dude wasn’t showing any signs of illness, chances are he didn’t bring it with him.” She then began to laugh.

“What?” Steven asked.

“Nothing, just – we’re talking about it like it exists. I dunno, just thought that was funny.”

“Yeah,” he breathed a laugh. He heard her begin chewing again.

“Steven.”

“What?”

He could hear the smile in her voice, “Did you find a diseased time-traveler?”

“Very funny,” Steven muttered sarcastically. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch, and your – chest cavity.”

Lauren laughed, “Okay, let me know how your project goes.”

“Will do.”

Hanging up, Steven sighed. Thinking about where in the hell he could stash a time-traveling cowboy, he walked back over to Arthur. The outlaw was hunched over the picnic table, staring intently at his hands. He looked up when Steven’s boots entered his field of vision.

“Well, we gotta head out pretty soon before traffic gets too bad.” He glanced in the direction of his car beyond the wall of pine trees.

Arthur frowned, “Traffic?”

Steven nodded, “Yup. You know, lots of vehicles, people.”

“Yeah, I know what traffic is. Jus’ wonderin’ if we’ll be goin’ through a city?” He clarified.

Motioning for Arthur to follow him, Steven elaborated, “Yeah, but not for a while. It’s pretty crazy, but it’s not just the cities that hold most people now. There are a shit ton of people in the boonies, too.” Judging by his expression, Arthur didn’t seem to like that little tidbit. Steven pointed to a couple of small crates, “Mind helping me carry these?”

Arthur moved to pick up one of the containers, “Naw, ‘course not.” Both men began walking along a path surrounded by trees leading out to the parking lot. Steven let out a loud laugh at Arthur’s face when they reached his silver Ford truck.

They sat down the crates as Arthur took a moment to absorb the vehicle in front of him.

Steven, thinking of the Bon Jovi song, tried his best to explain. “It’s like, uh, a steel horse. Ya know – “

Arthur just looked to him with a sardonic face, “I know whatta automobile is.”

Steven nodded, “Oh, right.”

“They’re just, ah – a li’l different than I remember ‘em.” Walking around the perimeter of Steven’s car, Arthur seemed to observe every little detail. Almost like an artist would a subject, he thought vaguely.

“Yeah, well.” Steven kicked a rock at his foot. “Wait ‘till you get inside.”

“Huh,” the cowboy huffed. Coming to stand beside Steven, he looked to the younger man. Placing his hands on his hips, Arthur pondered, “Just how would one go ‘bout doin’ that?”

Steven huffed out a laugh, “We’ll get to that, but first, we need to, uh – talk about your, uh, gun.”

“You ain’t takin’ my gun, Doc.”

“Steven, and it’s just –”, Steven took a step forward. Arthur’s hand went to his pistol grip, as if preparing to draw, and Steven shot his hands up in surrender. “Woah, I’m – I’m not going to take your gun, well – not for what you think. Can you just please take your hand off the gun? Please, don’t shoot me.”

Arthur acquiesced by removing his hand and briefly raising it palm forward in the air.

“Look, I’m not trying to take your gun, at least not for why you’re thinking. It’s just – times have changed. You can’t just walk around strapped like Jesse James.” Arthur quirked a dark brow. “I mean, this is Texas, but still. Cops can have itchy trigger fingers ‘round here.”

“Ain’t that all the more reason I should keep my gun?” Arthur’s deep voice drawled.

“No! Absolutely not!” Steven laughed incredulously. “I mean, that may seem logical to you, I guess, but trust me when I say you do not want to go shooting cops. ‘Law and order’ is – well, it’s just not the same as it used to be.”

Arthur looked pensive for a moment as he stared at Steven, as if to determine if the younger man was being truthful. Finally, his hands went to the buckle of his gun belt to loosen it. “You ain’t gonna make me regret this, are ya?”

Steven exhaled a nervous laugh, “What? No, no. I mean, you have more of a chance of being, I dunno, sucked up by a tornado than you have of being shot at between here and where we’re going.”

“Uh-huh, and jus’ where are we goin’?”

“Well, that’s TBD.” At Arthur’s confused expression, Steven quickly amended, “To be determined.”

“A’right,” the cowboy waved a hand in the air. “Let’s get a move on then.”

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

After placing the crates inside of the bed and Arthur’s gun belt under the backseat, the men climbed into the monstrosity of an automobile. Steven had shown Arthur how to open the door and put on a seatbelt, but it seemed easy enough. Sitting in the interior of this modern-day work horse, he luxuriated in the leather seat. He ran his fingers along the armrest, the treated leather feeling like smooth silk against his calloused hands. Looking up, his antiquated mind tried to conjure up why a person would need all these knobs and dials. What was their purpose? Steven settled into the seat beside him.

“You ready?”

“I gotta choice?”

Steven quirked a brow, “Not really.”

“Well then. There’s yer answer.”

And with that, the young doctor turned on the beast beneath them. Arthur did not expect the burst of noise that felt as if it hit him physically. Steven reached for the dials in front of them and quickly apologized.

“Oh god, sorry! I forgot I had the radio on, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly.

“Good god, man. How do you still have yer hearin’?” Arthur questioned, absolutely astonished.

“Yeah, that was loud. It keeps me going on a long drive.” He laughed, “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur just shook his head, “What in the hell was that?”

“Uh, music. Metallica, I think.”

The outlaw stared at Steven like he’d grown two heads, “Music? What the hell kinda music is that?” He shook his head. “Sounded like a thousand cats dyin’.”

Steven shrugged, “I think they’d like that comparison.”

The doctor tinkered with some levers and such around the wheel, and suddenly they were moving. Exiting the area, they pulled out onto the road. Despite the anxiety Arthur felt at the fast movement, he decided it wasn’t too terrible. That is until the speed caused his world to tilt.

Steven was chatting away about where they were going and what they would do when they got there, when Arthur began to feel utterly nauseated. Mesmerized by the white lines in the middle of the road as they moved past so quickly that they turned into one blur, his vision doubled, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. If Steven noticed, he didn’t say anything, so preoccupied as he was.

“I mean, we have a pullout couch. But our place is tiny. We’d be like sardines in a can. You had those in your time –”

“Doc.”

“– right? Of course, you did. Well, we’d be like sardines. It’d be uncomfortable. I’d ask –”

“Doc.”

“– Lauren, but she’s a doctor. She’s always working. It’s not like –”

“Pull over.”

“– I can leave you alone. Holy shit, I know who –”

Arthur finally raised his voice, “Steven!

Confused, Steven replied, “What?”

Looking at the other man, Arthur gritted lowly, “Stop this damn contraption ‘fore I vomit all o’er this nice leather.” Finally understanding, Steven pulled to the side of the road. As Arthur went to hop down from the vehicle, something jerked him back into place. Before the outlaw could grab his knife, Steven calmly reached over and unbuckled the belt. Murmuring a quick ‘thanks’, Arthur hauled himself out of the truck and into the field. A loud horn from another passing vehicle would have scared him out of his boots, if he hadn’t been so overcome with nausea.

Steven yelled a sarcastic, “Ok, thank you!” before saying to himself, “Asshole.”

Wiping his mouth, Arthur turned and walked back to the truck. Once they were both inside, Steven looked at him.

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. Arthur just nodded. Steven continued, “I didn’t even think about you getting motion sickness. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“S’alright,” Arthur said quietly.

The doctor handed him a bright pink pill of some sort and what looked like a clear canteen.

“It’ll help with the dizziness. Plus, it might even help you get some rest. We got a couple hours drive before we reach the city.” Arthur took it without question, washing it back with the warm water as Steven pulled the truck back onto the road.

He questioned, “City?”

“Yeah. Blackwater.”

Unable to help it, Arthur felt his blood run cold. Knowing that his bounty was long gone was not enough to keep his anxiety from spiking. Arthur did not say anything. This man knew his name, did he know his sins? Would he still be so generous and willing to take him in, knowing the blackness of the outlaw’s heart?

Steven briefly glanced his way. “I have an idea about where you can stay. I have to call her, but I know she’ll be okay with it.” He looked back at Arthur. “I think you’ll like her.”

Arthur just nodded, feeling the effect of the medicine begin to take hold. Eyelids turning heavy, he shifted until his head lulled forward. Exhaustion catching up with him, he surrendered to Morpheus in a dreamless sleep.

#Red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan x oc #Arthur x oc #the year of magical thinking #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan

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sweetlangdon · 5 years

Text

Reckoning: Part Four (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Notes: AU of the Outpost plot of Apocalypse. A Gray accidentally finds Michael while he’s performing the ritual. Things take an interesting turn.

Warnings: Blood. So much blood. There’s blood in every part of this fic so far. Swearing. Murder. Graphic violence/gore. Blood kink. Knife play. Things get heated, but there’s no smut…yet? (There might be in the future, if I’m feeling particularly brave.)

This fic is currently in progress.

Also available on AO3.

[Repost of a previously published fic from my main blog.]

Part One Part Two Part Three

She recoiled as if the mark had scorched her fingertips, as if her skin had blistered in an open flame. It might as well have—he’d been warm all over; she’d felt that warmth through her clothes, but the mark behind his ear was blazing hot. She stumbled away from him until her back slammed into the wall near the doorway, hysterical laughter numbing the pain that jolted up her spine and knocked her teeth together. Her hands were shaking again.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she said at last. “That’s just—no. You know what? This game has gone on long enough. I don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to pull here, but that…I’m not…no.”

“You asked for the truth.” Langdon eyed her with slightly disheveled hair and annoyance pulling at the smirk on his lips. It was a composed sense of annoyance, which seemed like an unbelievable concept to her. She felt such a weird mix of confusion and rage and attraction toward him that she was beginning to infuriate herself, and she was sure that he could see every single bit of it.

“I gave you nothing else.” He took slow, deliberate steps to eliminate the distance she’d put between them. “When you found me, a part of you knew.” Langdon inched closer, the pointed toe of one his shoes settling between her feet. “And when you said those words back to me…you felt them, didn’t you? The power of them—of my father. Suddenly, the world became clearer…every need, every desire, no matter how dark,” he planted his hands on either side of her shoulders, “…and the very thought of it frightened you.”

What little air that had been left between them seemed to crackle, the heat that flowed from him playing across her skin. Her palms were slick with sweat again, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Langdon. She didn’t know what she hated more—him, or her inability to resist the intense, prying look he’d leveled her with.

She definitely fucking hated that he was right.

Ave Satanas. The words she’d said against his mouth, so full of rage and want, her mind hazy with it. She’d said them before she understood the full weight of them; she’d needed him to feel the words on her own lips. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“You may not be a believer—not yet,” Langdon cocked his head to the side, just a little, “but you believe in things beyond this ruined world,” he continued. “I could see it in your eyes…just as you saw it in mine.”

Lightning appeared to streak across his face and illuminate another side of him that lay hidden beneath his impeccable jawline and silky blond hair. It lasted for a moment or two; eyes shining like onyx sunken into a pale, withered face. Something hellish. A monster.

The fucking Antichrist.

She felt dizzy again. Her spine pressed into the wall, her fingers cold and tingling as panic began to race through her bloodstream. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No,” he drawled. Langdon lifted one of his hands and she felt his soft, warm fingertips wander along her cheekbone. His blood had long since dried on her skin, staining her dark red, and the scent and feeling of it seemed to leach into her soul. “If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. You gave me more than enough opportunities.”

She slapped his hand away without thinking about the fact that he could strangle her or probably break her goddamn neck with it. Fear made her angry, and anger made her act entirely on impulse.

“Then why the hell are you here?” she demanded. Langdon dropped his hands to his sides, one eyebrow raised at her outburst in a show of amusement. “You’re the reason we’ve all been miserable for the past eighteen months. Youstarted all of this shit.” She huffed out a shallow, anxious breath. The fucking Antichrist. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone to Sunday school, but I recall the Book of Revelation being a huge fucking deal.”

“So death would’ve been preferable to you?” Langdon goaded. “Torn apart by the blasts or the agonizing effects of radiation? Compared to the rest of the world, eighteen months of loneliness and servitude seems a far better alternative.” He folded one arm behind his back; he’d stepped away from her, taking the warmth with him. His tone regained some of its sharpness. “The only reason this outpost is standing is because I helped make it possible. And I’m here, as I said before, at the interest of The Cooperative. I haven’t lied.”

“You destroyed the world.” She scoffed, but she still missed the heat he carried. The anxiety in her veins had made her cold and her chest tight. A small fragment of her realized that she was only fighting him and asking these questions because it seemed like the right thing to do. That nagging thread of morality left from the old world; an effort that had become futile, now. “If you ask me, deceptive doesn’t even begin to cover that one, Langdon.”

“Humanity has already been doing that for centuries,” Langdon countered, side-stepping the accusation she’d hurled at him. “It was never going to last. We wiped the slate clean, and now it’s time to decide who will make this new world flourish in my father’s image.”

His father. Satan. How the shit did I get here, again?

Goddamn it, she really, really fucking hated that he was right.

She was so exhausted and bewildered by this whole situation that it took her a moment to comprehend that he’d fixed her with one rather expectant look. Her own laughter, all sarcasm and disbelief—the traces of hysteria gone as if the two of them had finally reached some strange level of understanding—echoed in the cavernous bathroom. Was it her own fatigue that made her slightly more open to the possibilities, or had she sold her soul the moment she accepted his challenge?

“I’m nobody.”

The coolness of the tile against her back made her shiver, so she pushed off it to take a few wary steps in his direction. Once she settled in front of him, Langdon dropped the arm that had been folded behind his back and peered at her with a narrowed gaze. She had to stop the contented sigh that almost worked its way from her throat when she fell back into the orbit of his warmth.

“A worker ant.” Venable’s words made her cringe, even from her own mouth. “I’m surprised you haven’t crushed me underneath your very expensive heel yet.”

That earned her a grin. Her stomach did another one of those involuntary somersaults, and without thinking too much about it, she dared one step closer. The hem of her dress brushed against his pants and the toe of her drab shoe knocked into his, but he didn’t move.

He leaned forward so that his breath skirted her hair. “That’s just what this place has turned you into.” Langdon took her hand and brought up so that it was level with his chest, running his thumb along the dark stains on her knuckles. His curious gaze dropped to the coating of dried blood on her skin, which seemed almost like a reprieve from his endless pursuit of her soul. As he traced a gentle fingertip across her knuckles, she clenched her jaw shut tight.

“At least consider that you could be more.” His thumb traveled down the inside of her wrist, following the path where the ribbons of his blood had soaked into her flesh and the sleeve of her dress. His voice turned low and dangerous. “I think you were made for this new world—you showed me that when you freed yourself from the old rules. You’re not the same person you were when you walked into that room; you and I both know that. But the question is,” he drew out the syllables, ice blue eyes flickering up to her own, “will you allow yourself to accept who you could be?”

Langdon hummed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His words dropped into an almost whisper, warm breath ghosting across the tender flesh of her wrist. His lips now hovered just above the network of veins that had been concealed under a layer of dark blood, his head dipped toward her, hair cascading gracefully down his bare shoulder. She watched him inhale the remaining scent of iron.

“Chaos becomes you.”

A shudder wracked her body, and she knew he’d felt it as her fingers curled under his touch. She waited for him to press his lips to her wrist, to maybe taste the iron on her skin, but instead he dropped her hand.

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Or, I could tell everyone your dark secret.” She flexed her fingers at her side, the ghost of his touch and the warmth of him still lingering on her skin.

Langdon’s face was suddenly bright with a sarcastic grin that she wanted to loathe, but it only made her cheeks feel flushed. “As if they would believe you.”

He circled around her until he came to rest at her back, and she leaned, just a little, into the solid presence of his bare chest. She found him staring at their reflection in the mirror above the sink—Langdon, fucking perfect as always, despite the fact that he’d been stabbed in the past half hour, and there shewas…a fucking blood-stained travesty of a human being. She didn’t even look worthy enough to polish his shoes.

Maybe that was the exhaustion talking. This night had lasted for an eternity.

“So…” His words were low and rough in her ear. Heat prickled up the back of her neck. “While I’ve enjoyed the sight of you covered in my blood,” he swept a chunk of hair over her shoulder and one of his rings grazed the side of her throat, “I’m afraid I can’t let you walk around the outpost like that.”

Langdon moved away from her, and she stared at the muscles that rippled in his back as he retreated, this time without a sense of shame or a hint of rage.

“Take all the time you need.” And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, the room so many degrees colder than she would’ve liked.

She let out a sigh. Well, shit.

In the end, she decided that taking a shower in the fucking Antichrist’s private en suite ranked very low on the list of unbelievable shit that had happened tonight. Exhaustion had made itself comfortable in her bones. And even though she thought of the blood on her as some kind of morbid trophy—she’d made the fucking Antichrist bleed and lived—all she wanted to do right now was clean herself up and sleep. Maybe for an eternity.

The cold air hit her skin, raising goosebumps as she let her dress pool around her ankles. Her bra and panties followed, and for a second she stood there in the soft yellow light of the candles, wondering what she’d do about the blood-stained clothes. Her vision went unfocused, tired and in a daze, her thoughts wandering off in too many directions. Thinking about Langdon just on the other side of that damned door and if she actually trusted him enough to make herself vulnerable with nothing but a rather thin wall between them.

And the knife.

She’d forgotten about it, honestly. It had been neglected on the floor by the shower, blood splattered on the tiles when Langdon had tossed it. The blade was more crimson than steel now. He’d been right, of course—to her deep, unwavering irritation, he always seemed to be right—she wasn’t the same. She didn’t feel the same. These past eighteen months had taken their toll, but this…it wasn’t anything she could explain. Had she always been like this? Had she always wanted to be like this? Or was it just what this strange, new world now demanded of her?

She kicked the knife under the pile of clothes.

The water ran dark red, the scent of whatever flowery soap that came standard in the outpost blossoming into the air. She watched the tendrils of red swirl in the soapy water around her feet until they vanished down the drain. The near scalding heat worked her tense, weary muscles loose.

Clouds of steam obscured the glass as she scrubbed at her skin until it was bright pink, eliminating every trace of Langdon’s blood. She melted into the warmth, eyes fluttering closed, trying to breathe after whatever the fuck had happened. When she realized she was actually falling asleep standing up, lulled into a gentle comfort by the water, she decided it was time to leave.

She shoved aside a few used towels on the floor with her foot, entirely cognizant of the fact that while she’d be one of the people washing them later, she’d used up all of Langdon’s clean towels out of spite. While towel-drying her hair, wandering around the bathroom in aimless circles, she noticed something folded over the chair in front of the vanity table. It definitely hadn’t been there before she’d hopped in the shower. Langdon’s en suite had been untouched except for the blood stains, devoid of anything personal.

Except for the coat that was now on the chair. The coat that he had somehow left in here while she’d been oblivious.

For…her?

Huh. That’s…something, all right.

She finished halfheartedly drying off her hair and then dropped the dampened towel into the pile with the rest. “Fuck it.”

After sliding her bra and panties back on, she considered the heap of blood-stained clothes and decided her shoes were the only thing worth saving. There was more identical, boring gray attire in her room; not as many as the Purples had in their wardrobes, but she could spare at least one set. She cleaned the blood off her shoes as best she could—she figured the bloodied towels were another problem for Langdon to solve—and then picked up the coat from the back of the chair.

Her stomach did another one of those obnoxious somersaults. It was an elegant coat, long and black and lined with buttons. She held it up, unfolding it to reveal the bright red lining on the inside. An equally obnoxious part of her brain remembered that Langdon had been wearing this coat when he’d first introduced himself to everyone in the outpost. She sunk into it, suddenly more alert than she’d been in the past half hour, her pulse speeding up its rhythm. It was the finest piece of clothing she’d worn in over a year, and probably the most expensive thing she’d ever worn in her life.

And it belonged to Langdon.

Was it possible that some part of him wasn’t complete hell spawn?

She pulled the coat closed and buttoned it—frustratingly aware that she was half-naked underneath it. Holy fuck, why. The fabric felt like silk against her bare skin, cool enough to provoke another round of goosebumps that broke through the lingering heat from her shower. The sleeves were too long, and her hands disappeared into them no matter how many times she pulled them back up. It smelled exquisite: rich and earthy like a rain-soaked forest with just a hint of wood smoke and something else, maybe warm spices and citrus. She breathed in deep, inhaling the intoxicating scent, recalling images of a world that hadn’t been nuked to hell. Is this what he smelled like all the time? She hadn’t had a chance to notice, what with all the blood. It was nice. Really nice.

Well. I’m fucked.

She suppressed a groan.

The knife had been left where she kicked it—there was no damn way Langdon didn’t know about it, either—and without a second thought, she wiped off the blood and stuffed it in an inside pocket. Once she gathered up her pile of stained clothes, she summoned whatever was left of her resolve in the mess of her own exhaustion and walked back into Langdon’s suite.

His attention had been pulled toward her at the sound of the bathroom door opening, half of his face caught in the pale white glow of a laptop screen. When did the outpost get WiFi? He had one elbow propped up on the desk, his hand slowly curling into a loose fist. He was once again fully clothed in black. She didn’t miss the way his bright blue gaze took in the sight of her in his fucking coat. The way his lips curved into a smirk. The way his head tilted, and his chin rose as if in appreciation. Was it genuine, or was he just fucking with her? Maybe it was just her lustful, traitorous imagination. Maybe it was smugness, or fucking delight, because he’d helped put her in this situation.

She sighed. “Don’t.”

Langdon made an indifferent sort of gesture with his hand, but his smirk deepened. “I didn’t say a word.”

“You don’t have to.”

He rose from the desk and crossed the room in several long strides to open the door. “I’ll need that back.”

“Obviously.” She made sure the corridor was empty before she stepped out. “No one will know about it.”

Langdon’s chin rose again, and this time she couldn’t read his expression. “Good night.”

The door clicked shut when she was halfway down the corridor. She moved as quickly as she could through the labyrinth of hallways—now more empty than they had been before; everyone had to have gone to bed by now. Not that time existed down here anymore, but she’d never felt the effects of such a weird, virtually lawless existence than she did walking through the outpost on this artificial night. She found herself both longing for the construct of time and thrilled that it no longer held any meaning. All she knew for sure was that she just wanted to fucking sleep. Langdon had drained whatever energy she’d had left.

She stopped once in her travels to burn her clothes in one of the large fireplaces; her eyes burned with fatigue while she watched the flames consume the last evidence of her bloody interview with Langdon. When she finally arrived at her room in the Gray quarters, her roommate was blissfully asleep, tucked away under the covers.

Slipping off her shoes, she padded across the room to her armoire under the dim light of the low burning candles. With a pang of reluctance that she did notwant to acknowledge in any way at all, she took off Langdon’s coat and stowed it among her comparatively dull wardrobe. It wouldn’t be in here long enough for her roommate to find it. The girl was gossipy to a fault, but she at least kept out of her belongings. Not that any of them had much to begin with.

She dressed in a plain, off-white linen nightgown that served no purpose other than to uphold Venable’s outdated aesthetic. And finally…finally, after this endless fucking night or whatever the hell it had been, she dragged her tired body to her bed and crawled under the blankets.

And she hid the Antichrist’s knife under her pillows.

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @yourkingcodyfern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @rainbowrosesjas @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @artistlunadrayne @codysfallenangels @batgirlbride @mileeyyowens @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon @weareallevilmotherfuckers-deact @langdonfern @angsty-otters-blog @denaexr @mr-langdonn @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @satansapostle @monsucre @ritualmichael @fernshorrorstory @queencocoakimmie @bluelancesredswords @theharvestgirloffire @punkysouls @sevenwondr @zoebensvn @kylosbabe @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon x fem!reader #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #ahs fic #ahs fanfiction #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs apocalypse fanfiction #fic: reckoning

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years

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Villainous Heroics - Chapter 13

Woo, sorry for the long pause between updates, guys! School's really been kicking it to me this semester, but you can't keep a good writer down!

A few quick notes to go over:

Just a quick update dealing with the timeline, but I won't be dealing with the Overhaul and Eri arc. Please assume that these events happen in Class 1-A's second year - as well as any further manga/anime plot elements. The rest of this story takes place throughout the rest of first year and possibly crossing over into the summer break. I don't want this story to grow too expansive where it was just meant to be a short thing, but corndog-patrol on tumblr has art of their original version of this AU that has Mic meeting Eri and it is absolutely adorable! As for me, well, I'm going to give our boys and 1-A a bit of a break. We'll see about Eri popping up in future drabbles, though!

Another note, I've changed the spelling of Shota to Shouta where I learned that Wikipedia is a fool that should never be trusted. I'll be using the spelling of Shouta from here on out, but there will be a final edit to the story once completed so that the earlier chapters are updated to reflect this - any other names I messed up will also be fixed.

Enjoy!

Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

Click here to read the work on Fan Fiction Net.

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Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

<<First/Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

Chapter Thirteen

“Your body moved before you could think, huh…” Shouta stared at the streets below him, the image of cracked roads and dim street lights blurring into a single color as he let his thoughts drift back to the other night with Mic. “What am I going to do with you, Mic?”

Shouta had responded to the alert of a bank robbery and had been the closest hero on patrol at the time. He had gone in expecting hostages and thugs or villains who had been twisted by the cruelty of the world - or had given in to their own cruelty. Instead he had slipped in and saw Present Mic bleeding with a gun trained on him.

The blood hadn’t been a priority. Mic, whether villain or vigilante, had grown used to the pain of a difficult fight. The sight of a gun being pointed at him with a finger on the trigger had been anxiety inducing, but the expression on Mic’s face - the expression of acceptance as if he knew he was going to die and had already accepted it as fact… That had been heartbreaking.

There was a second where Shouta had seen his student and a hand reaching out to crumble her down to dust. It hadn’t been a reminder he needed, and it was only years of fighting and doing hero work that had him reacting on instinct, changing the path of the bullet and sparring Present Mic of death. Shouta hadn’t spared him from a lecture, though, but then the man had gone and said that.

“My body moved on its own before I could think.”

It was a joke among pro heroes. It wasn’t a well-known joke, but it wasn’t a secret, either. Every good pro hero, whether aware or not, they always managed to say the same thing. Their debut, the first time they helped someone, the moment they realized they knew what they wanted to do, it was the same phrase said again and again no matter the circumstances.

Their bodies moved before they could think. It was the mark of a good hero. It was the mark of a good hero - one who cared more about the safety of people than the rankings or media attention. These days being a pro hero was akin to being a celebrity, but even then the feelings were often the same.

Shouta groaned and shoved his goggles down to rub at his eyes, fingers pausing and twitching as they touched the familiar piece of gear, thoughts of Mic drifting up even more than before. The overwhelming abundance of memories and thoughts were drowned out by one single conclusion, though.

Present Mic was not, and never had been, a villain. There was no way for him to be a villain when he was too afraid of his own quirk and only used it when he was helping people. He protected children and saved teenagers he didn’t even know, he broke up fights if they got too rough, and he was willing to let himself get shot to help those who he had never met before. Present Mic may have called himself the ‘Voice Villain,’ but it was clear that he was anything but.

Even half the police in his area thought Mic was a vigilante! After the report he had filled for the bank robbery, half the force had asked him who the vigilante was that had been at the scene. Shouta hadn’t had the heart to correct their assumptions. Plus, it was going to be that much funnier when they were told the hostages were saved by another villain.

The sound of tired footsteps had Shouta coming out of his thoughts and tugging his goggles back up, reminding himself that he was on patrol. A glance down showed a man with long blonde hair that was pulled back in a bun, grumpy expression on his face.

The grumpy expression on his face was why it took so long for Shouta to realize that the man was familiar due to the fact this was the barista he saw at his regular coffee place. He didn’t even know that the shop closed this late.

“-stupid fucking douchebag. I could kill him and people would thank me. Oh, Yamada, you murdered your boss? Well, yes, because he made me stay four hours past closing and clean and-” The words drifted up through the air towards him before dropping back into bitter grumbling and mumbling, Shouta feeling his lips twitch into a smile.

He would have to remember to try and be a touch nicer towards him in the morning if he was there. Back to back closing and morning shifts weren’t exactly fun, especially when he already looked exhausted and overworked. Seeing people like this made Shouta wonder what Mic’s day job was. The man had to be doing something. Hm. He probably DJ’d at a local club.

Looking back down, Shouta now saw two figures in the shadows where the street lights didn’t reach instead of just the one. Readying his binding cloth, Shouta took a moment to assess the situation before he saw the flash of a gun.

Jumping down, Shouta barely landed before he was shouting loud enough to get their attention, “Hey!” The gun was now trained on Shouta, which, good. The civilian, the same barista, was tense and had a pale face and shocked expression, entire body drawn in tight. He seemed to be favoring his right shoulder, so it was possible he was hurt, but Shouta hadn’t heard a gunshot, at least.

“Who are you supposed to be?” The man who held the gun sounded panicked and ready to pull the trigger. Shouta would’ve been amused if there wasn’t a hostage or a gun involved.

“I’m the guy that’s going to kick your ass.” It was possible Shouta took some aggression out when it came to the fight that followed, but Shouta didn’t have much sympathy for those who contemplated murder as being an acceptable risk.

Making sure the knots were tight and the police were on their way, Shouta finally looked to the civilian, gaze flicking him over quickly to assess for damage. The man was rambling about how he was okay, full of nervous energy. He looked ready to vibrate out of his skin and there seemed to be some sort of damage to his shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?” Shouta asked, pushing his goggles up and finally cutting into the rambling. He a had a lot of practice with Mic, after all.

“Of course! He didn’t get a scratch on me!” Something was… not wrong, but not quite right, either. Shouta felt like he was a few steps off from where he should be, and it wasn’t a feeling he particularly liked. Usually he was still half-asleep when talking to this man, so maybe that was it.

“Well,” Shouta sighed, turning back to keep an eye on the defeated villain. He wasn’t much moving. “You should at least come with me to make a report.”

“No!” That was a very strong reaction to the idea of going to the police. Maybe the other just hated paperwork. Shouta could relate to that. “I mean… I’ll just head home - thanks for the help, Eraserhead.”

“Mm.” Jumpy, but he wasn’t bleeding and didn’t seem in any extreme pain, and if he didn’t want to make a report or press charges, then Shouta could let him off easily enough. Strange, though. It was very rare that a civilian knew his name considering his status of being underground.

The feeling of the wrong steps turned into that of a missed step. It was odd, but maybe Shouta was just putting too much thought into it. If Mic were there, he would probably…

Shouta’s thoughts trailed off into silence as he felt a million little clues come into complete focus in a way that had him torn between incomprehensible anger and utter despair.

There wasn’t any other way to react when he realized his barista of the past few months was Present Mic.

Shouta really should have seen this sooner. He was groggy with the hour or two of sleep he had managed, but he pushed himself to focus as he stared at the barista who had a nametag he had never bothered to read before. Present Mic’s family name was Yamada and Shouta was feeling more and more like an idiot by the second.

Not only had Present Mic been in front of him since the very beginning of this whole mess, but he couldn’t even complain about it to anyone. He could never let this realization be known – to Nemuri, especially.

“Hey, there! You’re actually pretty early, this morning!” Yamada greeted, his tone an exact match for Mic’s in every way possible

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to start the day early.” Shouta was only half aware of the words coming out of his mouth as he did his best not to be obvious about his staring. The more he looked, the more stupid he felt.

Yamada was wearing the same bulky glasses that Mic had worn all those months ago when his own sunglasses had still been broken. There were the hearing aids that Shouta caught glimpses of when Mic’s headphones weren’t on. There was that stupid mustache that should have been a dead giveaway and all of it was tied together with bright green eyes that were shining as if they knew him and fuck. Present Mic had been serving him coffee the whole damn time. This was Mic and he knew exactly who Shouta was.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking coffee, then,” Yamada - Mic - teased, smile fond and warm in a way that Mic never let himself really show. “I wanted to say thank you, by the way, for last night. It’s good to have a hero around these parts.”

“It’s my job,” Shouta shrugged off, trying to get over his panic and calm himself down. It wasn’t working as much as he wanted it to.

“Well, thank you anyways, Eraserhead,” Yamada laughed, everything about him soft and quiet in a way that Present Mic never let himself be. Shouta had thought his feelings had been bad before, but this… Jeez.

“Aizawa,” Shouta said quietly, pleased when Yamada blinked at him in confusion. “I’m off duty in the mornings, so it’s Aizawa Shouta.”

“Oh.” The word was a soft exhale, Yamada’s eyes wide and bright and a smile on his face that looked fragile. If Shouta hadn’t known who this was before, then this moment would have given it away. “Well, then, it’s only right if you call me Yamada. Yamada Hizashi. Um, nice to meet you?”

“Right. Nice to meet you.” Shouta was fucked. His name was Yamada Hizashi. Present Mic’s name was Hizashi which literally meant the perception of sunshine. Shouta was filled with a dawning horror as he silently realized how many times he had compared the man’s smile to sunshine.

“Right, your order!” Yamada quickly moved to get the items, passing by a teenager coworker who was hissing something at him as he scribbled on an empty coffee cup before filling it. Shouta couldn’t even be upset he only counted two espresso shots instead of his usual six.

Yamada bustled around the small area and looked to hiss something back to his now glaring coworker before setting Shouta’s coffee and a bag of cute cat muffins on the counter. “Here you go, Aizawa-san! Consider this one on the house as thanks for last night.”

“Oh, uh…” This man was too sweet. This man was literally sunshine and Shouta had no idea how to deal with it. It was one thing dealing with Mic’s cockiness and rapid wit, but it was another dealing with this soft and quiet barista who gave the warmest smiles. “That’s really-”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Yamada insisted, pushing the items closer and then crossing his arms. “And I can be a lot more stubborn than you can!”

“That part I didn’t doubt,” Shouta muttered, taking the items and half hiding behind his binding cloth as he eyed Yamada. “Thank you.”

“Of course! Just don’t make me say that stupid ‘have a lovely day’ phrase,” Yamada mock frowned, sticking his tongue out. “It’s so lame!” The frown disappeared in favor of one of those bright smiles. “Have a nice day, Aizawa-san!”

Shouta managed to keep himself together, as well as mumble back a response, and make it all the way to the U. A. staff room. He was in complete control of himself for the entire time. The moment he sat down, though, he let his head hit the desk, cheek squished against the desk as he felt his cheeks redden.

“My, my, what’s this, Shou-chan? Are you feeling embarrassed over something?” Nemuri, the utter vulture, was leaning off his chair in a second. Shouta did his best to ignore her and instead looked at his coffee cup which… didn’t have his name written on it. Instead, scrawled across his cup in looping lines:

Sound does not travel when no one hears Yet you have always listened for me From my loudest shouts To my quietest whispers

My voice has never fallen on deaf ears since you Is it any wonder I fell for you Like the last sharp note of a song Trailing off before dropping into unknown

“Holy shit, are you dying? Your face just got so red?” Nemuri’s shocked voice barely even registered, Shouta only staring at where Present Mic had written a love poem on his coffee cup. Oh, god, how often had he done this? Had Shouta been throwing away cups with love notes on them this whole time?

Shouta turned his head to rest his forehead against his desk, his co-workers chatting above him in a way to where it was nothing except for white noise.

Jeez… Shouta had never felt so blind as he did now.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #erasermic #villain!mic #corndog-patrol #villainous heroics

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tachiaku · 5 years

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since i get my pillowfort key in two days and i don’t plan on ever using this website seriously again because of the ban, i’m going to go ahead and make this kamen rider gaim post i was saving to make into something long and more intelligent sounding in the future. i watched gaim as part of my neo-heisei run where i watched everything almost in order except i watched drive after ghost because i wanted to watch it with a friend.

so this is my biggest problem with kamen rider gaim’s theme and why everyone who says the theme of gaim is somehow good probably liked gaim way too much to admit to themself that the theme was shitty in a show for children.

the rest beneath the cut.

kamen rider gaim is easily one of the most loved of the kamen rider series especially in western fandom and most people assume this is because the series is quite grimdark in comparison to the other kamen rider series that came before it. i can only assume it must have been people getting fed up from the run of kamen rider decade to kamen rider wizard considering kiva, decade’s predecessor, was incredibly grimdark and full of blatant physical abuse and misogyny. or perhaps it was the fact that wizard was just very long and, in my honest opinion, a bit of a drag that kind of struggled to find a tone while having a very set theme.

but that is not a post i want to make. onto gaim.

kamen rider gaim is a show about destiny and fate, how both are already set and you cannot fight against them. i am serious, that is the theme of kamen rider gaim. right after the christmas episode, kouta talks about how their fate was already set in stone and there was nothing they could do to fight it. when mai later learns to use her goddess powers in order to try to change the events of gaim by trying to tell kouta, kaito, and micchi not to go through with their choices, this only reinforces their decisions. every time kouta tries to fix things, everything seems to spiral into a new level of trouble until he has only one choice left.

kouta must become an overlord, a god-like being, by consuming the helheim fruit and defeating kaito so he can free mai from the time warp she is trapped in. only someone with those powers can stop the encroach of helheim and maybe save the world that has been destroyed by the forests and the overlord.

there could be an entire other post about the fact that mai’s goddess-like powers do her absolutely no good, that she is objectified by the story in a literal sense by being turned into the golden fruit, but again, not this post.

kouta never had a choice in the matter. i have seen posts by people who genuinely think gaim is a good show that kouta sacrificed his humanity for the greater good, to save his planet and his friends. by this point in the series, it had been conveyed that becoming this godlike being would make it impossible for him to remain with his friends because the difference would be too great, that he would become too powerful and dangerous for them.

but let me be perfectly clear about this: kouta did not choose to become an overlord. kouta was crammed into a corner where not becoming a god would mean that mai was trapped forever, that kaito would take over the world and recreate it in his image, and that everything he fought for would be destroyed. kouta also was pushed into this decision early in the series when sagara, the figurative and literal snake in the garden, continuously gave him lockseed power-ups that hastened his growth into an overlord.

sagara himself is a being that is forcing evolution on humanity. despite the fact evolution is something that is meant to occur naturally, taking place over a series of time (short-term called microevolution or adaptation and long-term being called macroevolution) and in answer to changes in environment. darwin’s finches are a good example. but sagara, for all of his talk of influencing evolution, quite literally forces it. he raises the stakes several times and plays every side of the field in order to get the answer he wants. he chose kouta to become his godlike being, and no amount of post-show explanation can change the fact that this is true.

despite the fact that the beginning of the film implies that takatora, micchi, and kaito are also possible combatants in this battle, and mai talking to kaito and micchi in her goddess form would imply this might be true, it was only ever going to be between kouta and kaito. only kouta was given any favoritism by sagara. he broke him out of a cell in yggdrasil headquarter, gave him lockseed power-ups, and pushed him to new levels. he chose kouta on purpose and groomed him into becoming what he wanted him to be.

kouta never had a choice in becoming an overlord. kouta would have never chosen that for himself, as his humanity was very important to him, as were his friends. as if to further push this awful idea, kouta and mai leave with no goodbyes and they leave the destruction of the world around them in place even though, at this point, the least they could have done was clean up the infrastructure that was destroyed by helheim. all kouta does is take the forest and leave everyone behind, which is so completely ooc that it starts to feel like the story was always meant to end up here, but the story was not really going in this direction so it was forced at the very end.

gaim’s story is that there is no choice, no way to deny fate and destiny. nothing you do to fix things will actually work, because this is how things are meant to be. chosen by destiny or by a higher power (sagara), things will play out as they were “meant” to play out and nothing you do can change that. that is the message of gaim, something that is beaten over the head of the viewer so often that it makes the show difficult to enjoy for anyone who was able to pick up on this storyline and realized it was a troubling message to send to children.

you know. the Actual target demographic of kamen rider. children. not adults, not western adults certainly. children.

you could argue that a lot of the troubling content of the show itself is not in and of itself all that different for a kamen rider series. micchi’s desire to possess mai and control her is not all that different than, say, kusaka from faiz or much of kiva which contained a lot of men abusing women in various ways. kaito’s edgy personality is not all that removed from the hoppers of kabuto. even the vast character death is not all that different than kamen rider ryuki, which gaim claims to have taken several of its themes from (this isn’t true). the content itself is problematic, but not wholly gaim’s problem in and of itself. this is not something that can be blamed on gen urobuchi but rather toei’s trademark in terms of kamen rider.

but the theme is where everything crashes and burns. no kamen rider series quite ends the way that kamen rider gaim does, with series main rider kouta thanking sagara for his assistance. this goes against every theme of kamen rider that has ever existed and against the core of the series, which is very anti-fascist in nature. sagara can easily be seen as a fascist figure, pushing “evolution” to churn out his ultimate and perfect ideal of a godlike being who will change the world in his image. this is why sagara would specifically be giving kouta one-ups, trying to mold kouta into what he wants him to be or otherwise believing kouta is already worthy of that power, which is why he blatantly hands it to him in the form of the kiwami lockseed, the ultimate power-up.

kamen rider gaim is wildly popular for probably all of the wrong reasons. i won’t bother to list series that people should watch as everyone has their own tastes and not everything is going to appeal to everyone else. wizard did nothing for me, but a lot of people love it. in contrast, i enjoyed drive, and a lot of people didn’t. what i would suggest in place of that is this: if you’re going to talk about the themes of a show, then ignoring the very broad and over-arching sum total theme in order to talk about smaller themes will make you ultimately sound ignorant. you cannot talk about kouta’s sacrifice without admitting that everything was built specifically so that he would have no other choice. you cannot talk about kouta’s sacrifice without discussing that fate and destiny forced him into this role rather than being his own personal choice, and that in the end it’s his friend that lies dead on the ground and not the actual Big Bad.

like i said, i’m not much for using this website anymore so i’m not going to be revisiting this post. you can leave responses, but i really will not be able to view them, so if you’re working on an essay length’s argument to counter mine, just keep in mind that i am probably not going to see it.

#kamen rider #kamen rider gaim

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tinybibmpreg · 5 years

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Day 95 // ft. Clyde, Mishal, Sawyer, and Aiden/Aster

#74 / Cousin

“I can’t take the loneliness anymore.” Teary eyes looked down into his own as Clyde stood at the doorway, mouth agape. “Please, can I come in, brother?”

“Sawyer?”

Aster opened his eyes and immediately tipped over. His whole body felt strange and tired, and when he got his bearings and looked around, he could see that he was at the edge of a forest and a wide field full of tall grass and yellow flowers. It was bright and sunny, the air pleasantly warm.

He’d never left the city before.

As he pushed himself up, his clothes were clearly not his own. He didn’t own a pair of overalls and velcro shoes, and he never wore short sleeves.

His arms were not his own. His scales and scars had been replaced by smooth skin, and his dark nails were a normal human shade. His skin was a healthy brown instead of his dark, greyish-green flesh tone.

“Where am I? What… what am I?” he asked aloud, though there was no one around to answer him.

He spotted a building on top of a hill on the other side of the field and began walking towards it. Maybe he could find someone to help him, tell him where he was and help him figure out whose body he was currently occupying. While he’d never personally occupied someone’s body before, he knew it was possible. He’d heard someone mention it before.

Someone…

His parents, he was sure. But why they were discussing it, he wasn’t sure. Things were a bit fuzzy as he tried to recall what his parents were like. The image of a terrible monster came to mind without any difficulty, his father, but he couldn’t remember what his mother looked like. It was as if someone had erased his face and name from his memory.

At the end of the field there was a path leading around the hill up to the building, so he walked along it. His head started to hurt, and when he brought a hand up to his forehead, his fingers came back covered in blood.

“Hey!” Someone said, rushing off of the porch of the building as he reached the top of the hill. She came straight for him and knelt down in front of him. “Kiddo, where have you been? You’ve been gone for hours- you’re hurt!”

“Y-yeah…”

“Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.” She picked him up and started walking off in the opposite direction of the field. Beyond the hill was a campus of some kind, with all sorts of different buildings and stone paths connecting them. There was a large expanse in the center, a park.

The person brought him into a white building labeled ‘medical center’ and went up to the front desk. They were waved into a hallway, where a doctor greeted them and lead them into a room. Aster was put down on an exam table.

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know. I found him wandering around. Kiddo, what happened?”

The doctor gave her a pointed look and drew back with surprise when Aster answered, “I woke up in the forest, and walked across the field. I don’t know how I got hurt.”

“Ah- he talked! He never talks-”

“You don’t remember?” The doctor got over her surprise far quicker. “Might be some memory loss due to a head injury. Alright, hon, can you tell me your name?”

His mother had warned him never to tell his name to anyone. So Aster decided that he would run with it, pretending to have amnesia. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?” He shook his head. “Ah… How about your birthday?”

“June 21st.”

“Good. You got that. And the year?” He gave the right year as well and felt sick. What was this? Why was this body the same age as him? “Do you know where you are?”

“A doctor’s office. I saw the sign. And you’re obviously a doctor.”

“No, no. Where is the office located?”

“I don’t know. It looks like a school.”

“And where is the school?”

“I don’t know.”

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“No. It’s Friday.” He was missing time. Why was he missing time? The doctor dabbed at the wound on his head. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I woke up in the woods, and then I fell down,” he lied. The last thing he remembered was pulling on his coat to go out and get groceries with his mother. “But that’s not how I hurt my head. It was already hurt.”

The doctor fixed the wound and concluded that he didn’t have a concussion. The blood was cleaned off of him, and a bandage was placed over the gash. She checked him over for any more injuries, only finding a bruise on his arm from when he’d fallen.

Two people came in, and only one of them looked familiar, a pale man with dull black hair and anxious, light green eyes. But he didn’t recognize either of them.

“Aiden!” The green-eyed man came to hug him, a relieved smile on his face, and Aster scooted away, eyes wide. “Aiden?”

“Wh-who are you?”

The man’s smile slowly faded away as he searched his face, confusion going to shock and then dismay. “Aiden…? What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Aiden. Is that my name?” Also disturbing, that this body had a name similar to his own. Starting with an A, with the same amount of letters, an e second to last. Aster could hardly bear it. What kind of cruel joke was this? It must have been his father’s doing, though he hadn’t seen him in months.

But… his father had never done something like this to him before, so it wouldn’t make sense. He had no reason to put his son inside a different child’s body. Aster was sure they’d swapped places. Why would his father switch him with some boy he’d never met?

“You don’t remember who I am?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

He was brought to the hospital to make sure he didn’t have some sort of hard to detect head injury, and after two days, was allowed to go home, to Aiden’s home. The green-eyed man was his mother, Clyde Raleigh, and the other man, who had dark skin and one blind eye, was Mishal Raleigh, his father.

When they got home, Mishal carried him in and said, “Home sweet home! Anything familiar?”

He’d never been in this house. “No.”

“That’s okay. The doctors said you should start getting your memories back in familiar surroundings. And these are the most familiar surroundings you’ve got!”

The house was open but cozy. There were pictures and paintings on the walls, little knick-knacks on shelves and surfaces. All the outlets were childproofed, and Aster noticed that anything sharp or breakable was placed out of his reach.

Mishal showed him around the house and then set him down in his bedroom. “Here’s your room!” Everything was his favorite color of turquoise and light green, which made him sure this was specific and malicious. It was tormenting, the similarities. Aster went over and picked up a toy, a stuffed bear. It looked ugly, a red color he didn’t like at all. “That’s-” Mishal faltered when Aster dropped it on the ground and moved on to look at a box of building blocks.

“Huh?”

Lifting up the bear, Mishal finished, “This is your favorite toy, Mr. Bear.”

“Oh. It’s kind of ugly.”

“Your grandma got it for you.”

“Mhmm.” If he was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, he needed to explore. There was a plastic snowglobe atop his dresser, so he took it and shook it. Snow fell down on the tiny city inside, a mini Boston. Where he lived.

He made a mental note to smash the globe and set it back down. The majority of the toys in Aiden’s bedroom were plushies or toys meant for very young children. Mishal watched him as he explored all his toys, and Clyde joined in as well.

Finding an abandoned box of thick crayons made him happy, and he soon found a notebook he could draw in. The first few pages were filled with scribbles, so he found a fresh page and did some scribbles as well, not wanting to call any attention to his difference in art skills.

“Aiden, are you hungry?” Clyde asked.

“Yeah.”

“Come on downstairs, and Mom will make you something to eat.”

What Clyde made him was something bland with rice, and he ate part of it before deciding that he’d really rather not. He picked at the rest of it.

“What’s wrong, Ai? That’s usually your favorite.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t? What would you like?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about some of Dad’s leftover lunch? I’ve got half a sandwich left.” Mishal got a lunchbox out of the fridge and put it down in front of him. He opened it up and unwrapped the sandwich.

Clyde sighed. “Mishal, you know he doesn’t like that kind of thing.”

Aster picked it up and started to eat it. It was much better than whatever else he’d been eating.

“Well, it looks like he likes that kind of thing now.”

“Ah…”

Aster knew that he was far too different from Aiden for Mishal and Clyde to accept easily, though Mishal was delighted to introduce him to ‘new’ things that Aiden had previously shunned. What he didn’t expect though, was for Clyde to figure out that something was dreadfully wrong after just two weeks. Aster belatedly realized that Clyde, who had suddenly begun to encourage him to paint whatever he wanted after a trip to a therapist, was tricking him. Since he’d told the story that the pictures of his father were just a creature from a nightmare, he’d continued drawing him, drawing other things from his real life.

He overheard the two of them talking and hid around a corner in order to listen to them. Clyde sounded nervous, while Mishal’s voice was disbelieving, “What?”

“I don’t think he’s our son.”

“Clyde, what are you talking about? Aiden is ours.”

“He feels like Aiden, and looks like him, but- he’s completely different. He talks different, acts different... He’s so much smarter, and his whole personality is completely warped. It’s like he’s a whole new child. He had no injury to his brain, so there’s no explanation for his amnesia.”

“That the doctors could find. Clyde, I think you need to relax.”

“Mishal, he’s been lying to us. Aiden never lied.”

“Lying?”

“I can sense it. I didn’t, not at first, but now I can. He remembers things, but he’s not telling us. And I don’t think what he’s remembering is Aiden’s memories.”

“What? You think someone is controlling him?”

“I don’t know! I think we need to take him to the university, have him checked for any curses or spells. There’s a holiday in three days, we can take him then.”

“Alright. But Clyde, remember… He could very well still be our little boy. Don’t treat him differently, in case. He’s smart enough that he might resent you if you start treating him like a stranger.”

Mishal shook his shoulder to wake him up two days later. Aster mumbled, burying his face against Mishal’s neck when the man lifted him up. He brought him downstairs, and Clyde whispered to him, “Why did you bring Aiden down here?”

“I thought he might like to meet his uncle.”

“Uncle?” Aster looked up. Standing in the entryway was a man who looked very similar to Clyde, but taller and with older, sharper features. There was a long scar across his face, a line of small ones on his lips all the same size and width. Pale green eyes identical to Clyde’s stared directly into his own, and Aster fought to keep his expression neutral as a rush of altered memories came back to him.

“Mishal, Aiden, this is-”

“Sawyer Ganelon. I’m Clyde’s older brother, by five years.”

He was Aster’s mother. The body he was stuck in was his cousin’s. That was why their faces were similar. It didn’t explain why they were exactly the same age, but… It made sense why someone would choose this body to stick him into.

His mother looked exhausted, face gaunt and pale. Under his eyes were heavy bags, and around them, faint bruises. Aster looked down at his hands and saw that his fingers were in a similar state, mottled with bruises and small cuts.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sawyer!” Mishal held out a hand. His mother took it after a moment of hesitation. After a quick shake, he pulled his hand back. “What brings you here?”

“I need a place to stay for a while.”

“Sawyer…” Clyde bristled.

“Not forever. And not to do magic. I… I just need a month or so of peace.” He put a hand on his heavy belly. “My baby is due soon, and I’d like somewhere I can stay until we’re both strong enough to find a new apartment back in Boston.”

Aster couldn’t remember any reason why they’d have to move. He thought back to when he’d put on his coat to leave, and was surprised that now the memory continued. They’d gone to the store and gotten normal ingredients. Then they’d stopped at a magic shop, and his mother had told him to stay in the car and out of sight. He’d ducked down on the floor of the car. When his mother had come back with a strange smile on his face, his bags had been full of odd ingredients and devices.

He’d felt uneasy at the sight of them, even more so when his mother had locked them in his bedroom. The rest of the day had gone normally, and the last thing he now recalled was his mother giving him a kiss on the forehead before telling him to go to bed. He couldn’t remember going to sleep, or even moving from where he’d stood frightened in the hallway.

“Fine. Mishal?”

“Of course! Come on in, you look like you need to sit down. I’ll get you something to warm you up. Aiden, why don’t you show your uncle to the living room?” Mishal put him down, and he walked to the living room. The brothers followed him, Clyde going silent. His mother said nothing as well, not even after they all sat down.

There was a crash in the kitchen, and Clyde sighed and went to go investigate. As soon as his brother was gone, his mother turned to him and smiled. “Hello, Aiden, is it?”

He nodded. Then, voice a whisper, asked, “Mom?”

His mother pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ve got you, Aster.” It was so nice to hear his name again. But his mother pulled away from him and took his hands. He cupped them together in his own and mumbled something under his breath. When he separated them, a ball of Aster’s power hovered between them. It grew to the size of an apple and then fizzled out. Frowning, his mother said, “It didn’t work.”

“What didn’t work, Mom?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, little bug. I’ll take care of everything.” He gave him the eerie smile he’d had at home. “I always do.”

#Oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #Clyde Raleigh #Mishal Raleigh #Sawyer Ganelon #Aster Wittenberg #Aiden Raleigh #The Winter Demon

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