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emilycollins00 · 3 years

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Two faces of the same coin

Pairing: Tenma x ghost-looking! reader Part 1.

Hey! I had this awesome ask from sadly ages ago which I appreciated a lot bc honestly, just the fact that someone sent such a detailed thing?? My heart.

Request: (...) Tenma finds someone who looks like they got out straight from a horror movie- They could literally pass as a ghost anytime of the day! But once he talks to them they are just an extremely chill introvert, and actually really thoughtful and considerate? (...) So yeah, imagine Tenma who once was shitting his pants whenever that person was around slowly starting to enjoy their presence and even better: fall for them.

Enjoy! 💕

Classic horror icons and other disturbing creatures share common characteristics, pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, hunched posture, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire fear and revulsion in many with good reason. And while Tenma would insist he was okay with them- he really was and Yuki should really just shut up- he wouldn’t go out of his way to watch or read about that specific genre. And he was okay with that.

“A ghost in the school?”

He tried to not sound as worried as he internally felt, his brain still processing what Taichi was talking about while waiting for their drinks to drop. The redhead nodded unaware, eyes fixed on the vending machine “Yeah! You haven’t heard about it before?”

“W-why should I? It’s stupid to think paranormal stuff like ghosts exists anyway.”

With a clank, both drinks finally fell. Taichi crouched down to retrieve them humming happily, handing one of them to the summer troupe leader and keeping one for himself.

“I don’t know man, it’s kind of cool!” he crossed his arms behind his head, resuming their walk and looked behind. “What about you, Juza-san? You seen anything?”

The purple-haired boy considered it lazily, but ultimately shook his head. He didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, and Tenma was pretty sure the main thoughts running through his head were today’s melon bread from the cafeteria.

It had been a while since their Ouka-high group had been able to have lunch together.

“Did you see? That Sumeragi Tenma is back!”

“Gosh, he looks so handsome!”

“Wait- don’t push me!”

“I heard he’s going to be a possible cast in that famous saga-”

“Are you serious?”

Whispers and tiny squeals kept circling them as soon as they entered the boundaries of the canteen. And while Tenma barely notices it at first, he can definitely see Juza’s stance going more rigid and Taichi’s eyes glowing at the attention received.

“I’ll go get our lunch” the golden-eyed teen announces heading towards the queue, hands buried in his pockets. He motioned Tenma with his chin. “You wanted set B right, no carrots.”

“Uh? Well yeah, but I can-”

“S’okay, you two go find some seats” he shrugged, looking around. There weren’t many spaces to start with and he’d honestly prefer focus on the food rather than the stares. “It’d be difficult to keep ‘em free with just one person anyway.”

“Roger! Come on Ten-chan, let’s go!”

“Aw, man. Everyone has their eyes on you as usual!” Taichi looked around, still indulging himself with all the people that were staring at them, some more blatantly than others.

How he didn’t get bored of mentioning it every time Tenma didn’t know, though he was low-key grateful. Not many people enjoyed being part of those types of reactions from a crowd- Juza for example-. When they finally managed to find some empty seats, Taichi placed his own bento on the table visibly excited. Tenma frowned.

“Since when did you start preparing lunch by yourself?”

“Ah, this?” the redhead laughed proudly at his confused look “See, I’ve been practicing my cooking skills! Tsuzuru has been super cool teaching me how to prepare some dishes for my siblings- plus, I’m sure I’ll get the attention of girls if they see my new talent!”

“Right…”

Tenma couldn’t decide whether he should make a comment as he took a long, thoughtful sip from his own juice can. Taichi’s lunch was a side of string cheese, a broken omelet, and some semi-burnt rice and it just didn’t seem very tempting.

He ultimately chose to leave it aside. Omi would surely know soon enough.

“So, uh, Taichi.”

“Yeah?”

He coughed, leaving aside the can and resting his back on the chair nonchalantly. “N-not that I care about that rumor, but- where is that ghost supposed to be?”

“Ah, the one we talked about? Mmm…” the autumn member caressed his chin, closing his eyes in deep thought. “No one really knows. It’s been spotted in pretty much all parts of the school” Tenma’s stomach sank at that. “But I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!”

The redhead took again the chopsticks and started digging on the rice carefree.

“R-right.”

Tenma shook his head. Cool. Great. Now he knew which side of the school he would never even try to approach at least.

“Tenma-kun!” a female voice, not familiar, made him jolt from his seat. When he looked up a girl followed by two others were are already making themselves comfortable on the chairs next to them- one of them even deciding to sit on the table. “Hi there!”

Third years.

"Hi” he repeated.

“We saw your appearance in that new series, it was unbelievable!”

“Are you going to be a recurring character there? I’d love if you could ask one of the leads to sign a shirt of mine!”

He simply showered them a practiced smile. He could already tell what type of fans they were. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary- people approaching him about his shows or to ask for favors- and honestly, it was better not entering in that dangerous territory. “Thanks. Nothing’s been said yet, that’d depend on the company. I’ll be counting on your future support.”

They instantly beamed at his reaction. “Of course!”

One of them clapped her hand together “That reminds me, when is your next performance in that theatre company you play? I so want to go see it again!”

“Ah, that will take a while. We just finished a month ago so next up is the autumn troupe” he motioned Taichi with his head, a proud, real smile featuring his face this time “These guys have been going all out, you won’t be disappointed.”

“O-of course!” the shortest Ouka high student practically jumped into the conversation. “If you all want, we could ask for a few tickets from our-!“

“But Tenma-kun is not in that troupe, right?” the girls looked at each other confused. As if it wouldn’t be something it’d cross their minds to do, had the child actor not participated before.

“W-well, no but…”

“Plus, the summer troupe is hilarious! I kinda prefer those types of performances, you know?”

“I totally get you!”

From his peripheral vision, Tenma could register Taichi’s face growing red- a strained smile before sitting back on his seat, not trying to add anything to the conversation anymore.

Smile. Remember to smile.

“…We all give our all on those performances, I don’t think it’s fair if you have just watched the summer troupe. You’ll definitely enjoy it if you give them the chance.”

“Really?”

“I mean… If Tenma-kun says so maybe we could go take a look.” one of them gave a chuckle, playing with their hair. “You think we could ask you to get us some tickets for-?”

“If you are not eatin’ you should leave.”

“Uh? Can’t you see we’re-” the sentence died in their lips as soon as they turned and encountered Juza. Not that he himself was proud of his reputation, but during these situations at the very least it paid to see they knew who he was.

“Move.”

The resulting glare was terrifying in its intensity, and the retreat took no longer than a few seconds. No one mentioned anything afterward- Juza’s calm and blank expression coming back as he sat down, handing the summer leader his lunch and squinting down at Taichi’s.

“What the hell are you eatin’.”

“Hehe it caught your attention too, right? You see…”

Tenma observed them. They were acting as if nothing had happened. Not so long ago people tended to stay away from him for those same reasons, so it still took him a few seconds to find the words again- For feeling this relieved at their reactions.

He left the chopsticks aside. “Sorry this... keeps happening."

They momentarily stopped the conversation, sharing a silent look before turning to the teen actor facing the table in awkwardness.

“I-It’s okay, Ten-chan! They would obviously be more interested in watching you than an unknown performance” Taichi laughs and scratches the back of his hair. He seemed to be fine- a bit uncomfortable, but fine. “Besides, that just means we have to work even harder to be recognized, right, Juza-san!”

“Yeah, don’t get stuck thinkin’ ‘bout it. We ain’t losin’ any time soon.”

“Anyway Juza-san, are you sure you’re okay with only melon bread and pudding for lunch? I can give you some of mine!”

Juza didn’t verbally answer Taichi’s offer, merely staring at the burnt rice being held in front of him with skepticism “…nah. I’m okay.”

Taichi frowned at his own food, tilting his head confused. A few seconds later, he gave it an ultimate shrug before going for one more bite, Juza doing the same with his own lunch. Tenma scoffed at the view, trying not to smile amusedly. The autumn troupe really was made out of beasts.

“If Sakyo-san saw what you two are eating he’d skin you alive, you know.”

“Why.”

“What do you mean why, Juza-san you can’t expect-“

"Ah, that reminds me!” Taichi suddenly rambled, mouth full of rice “We should totally go to the arcade before we head up to the dorm. I heard they have these new games that are supposed to be super exclusive!”

Tenma winced “Can’t. I have a meeting with my homeroom teacher after classes.”

The other two replied with a similar expression.

“I almost forgot you came from a big shootin’ and all. We’ve been seein' you in the dorm pretty much everyday.”

“Yeah! Geez I always say I envy you, but dealing with that after working must suck!”

“You tell me…”

Taichi shook his head, giving him both thumbs up “It’s okay, we can go another time. Good luck though!”

“You can sit here. I’ll go bring your work in a second and then we’ll talk.”

With a lazy look on his face, Tenma caught a glimpse of his own reflection from a trophy case- one of the few resting at the entrance of the teacher’s lounge. He had never paid attention to them before; Second prize in a football tournament, first prize in some races and a few diplomas regarding different competitions, nothing too special. Ouka high had never had the best score regarding academics, which is exactly why he was able to enter.

Igawa liked to insist it wasn’t entirely Tenma’s fault he had so many troubles keeping up with schoolwork though- well, not more than the usual of not being good at studying. No one actually knew how hard celebrity kids had to push themselves- at least that’s what his parent had said. On the other hand, they hadn’t really cared much more, so long the school allowed him to be flexible with his schedules.

School time was usually done while moving sets and camera changes. He and other kids and teens were at different levels of schooling most of the time, so the teacher was forced to divide their time. Honestly, one would be lucky to get 30 minutes of full tutoring.

Anyway, it was rotten work and even Tenma knew it. He also knew what his homeroom teacher thought about it, which is exactly why he couldn’t help himself raising his eyebrows concerned as he saw the pile of papers being drop over the desk.

“Is this a joke?”

“I know you’re busy, but there’s a minimum to do keep up with your classes and… general results.” the old man frowned scratching his grey four-days old beard. He clicked here and there at the computer, probably revising the latest results of the tests they had done.

He then leaned back on his chair, trying to find a comfortable position before his wrinkly eyes turned to him again. “I wish I could think of another way, but you are getting quite behind everyone, Sumeragi-kun. We’re worried.”

Well, it was not his fault he couldn’t remember all the information they gave him like a script. Was it really the solution giving him the same amount of work as his classmates with half the time?

Before he could open his mouth to complain, the man placed his hand on Tenma’s shoulder. It felt heavy. “I already talked with your manager. It seems you’ll be having a break for a month and a half just before finals and I’d like to help you. We can’t have one of the biggest faces of the school repeating a year, can we?”

Tenma’s jaw clenched. Of course, everything was always for Sumeragi Tenma the actor. Student Tenma could go drown himself.

“Here you’ll find some reinforcement materials I think will be good for you to do in school. Less time wasted while moving and I’ll be here in case you have any questions.”

His face twitched. That would mean he wouldn’t be able to ask for Tsumugi’s help or any of the adults back in Mankai. “I actually-”

“Suguro-sensei, Someone’s calling for you about tomorrow’s meeting!”

“Is it that time already... I’ll be right there in a second! In any case, I would suggest you go work on the library Sumeragi-kun.” the man got up, finishing that way their conversation. “It should be quiet enough, but if you see any students being too loud, give them a call.”

Tenma side-glanced again at his workload, groaning internally.

Just about his luck.

Twenty minutes walking.

How could such a big school not have a single sign to indicate where things were?

Squinting his eyes, Tenma looked both ways across the hall annoyed, his already short temper from before increasing. He was sure the library was two turns to the right, then left, and then up the stairs from the teachers’ lounge.

...or maybe it was a floor down now that he thought about it. Damn it. It wasn’t as if he had ever stepped inside that place, shouldn’t they make it more accessible for everyone?

“This sucks…”

It had been a while since he had seen other students or even teachers around, which also made him feel uneasy. He glanced down at the paperwork in his arms, gripping it tighter. He hoped no one would see him walking around like this.

Just where was the stupid library?

It wasn’t until Tenma decided to try entering inside any room that would allow him to work, that he found many were strangely closed. He was about to gave up when he finally saw the dusty word ‘library’ at the end of the corridor. Finally. With effort he managed to open the heavy door, immediately pinching his nose.

“Ugh, stinks.”

The person in charge of cleaning the school really did a worse job than Matsukawa- at least the man cleaned from time to time and organized stuff. The place was an absolute mess; boxes over the floor, piles of books on chairs and shelves full of documents and other various things he didn’t quite distinguish.

Leaving everything on the closest table Tenma sighed when he felt his arms relaxing without the weight. Frowning, he walked around the place, smelling a mix of dirt and old- even some shelves were full of dust. Really, how did a school like this had such a gross place to study? No wonder students didn’t try to come here.

He should have asked for permission to take his work back to Mankai. Less danger of someone noticing he was behind his studies and it becoming a gossip- or worse, finding he had been walking without an absolute clue for the last half hour.

Yeah, he had more options to pass the year with Tsumugi’s help rather than on his own. Just looking at the amount of work he had he was sure it’d-

The faint sound of walking steps brought him back from his thoughts freezing him on the spot- all his breath trapped. He hadn’t heard anyone since he entered, but it shouldn't be surprising to find others studying.

I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!

Or it was probably the wind. The wind tends to make noises, Tenma reminded himself while swallowing with difficulty.

Was the air suddenly thick?

Crack!

He strained to hear, his heart pounding loudly. “I-Is anyone there?” the nerves made his voice come out higher than he had hoped.

More cracks and sounds of steps. He couldn't see anything yet.

His stomach turned as his breath became louder. This wasn't happening. Yup! It was his imagination. What was happening could not be real, because ghosts didn’t exist. “I-I’m not afraid, you know?!” he shouted, positioning himself on a fighting stance while carefully moving backward.

That’s right- Tenma wasn’t scared. He had just rested enough, with or without a ghost in the room, and it was about time to leave. Ignoring his sweaty palms and nodding once more to nothing in particular, he turned around at the same time a pair of eyes made contact with his.

The figure opened its mouth.

And Tenma proceeded to absolutely destroy his throat.

_________________________________________________

This took so long though I’m not even sure If they are around. If you are love, I apologize! I found a few walls writing-wise. So not entirely to say I made it longer to make up for it but on the other hand... maybe. Thank you so much for sending such a nice idea so I was able to make this, really hope you like it. 💕

I promise this is a reader insert lol thank you for reading!

Part 2 soon!

#tenma sumeragi #a3 game #a3 tenma #a3! tenma #reader x a3 #a3! x reader #tenma x reader #a3 actor training game #reader insert #a3! taichi #a3! juza

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amispnrewatch · 3 years

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SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

#SPN 1x06 #amispnrewatch #reclaiming spn #performing!dean #lawboy #bi!dean #dean x cassie #dean x lee #stiles stilinski #void!stiles #teen wolf #dean deserved better

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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Thoughts on the leaked Superman TV suit redesign?

Assuming this is real - and I’m inclined to say so, that’s a real assistant costume designer on Arrow and a concept artist credited, both people who would be assigned to do this sort of thing but finding their names would take more work than I imagine the typical dude with photoshop would put in for this - while probably not final I actually like it a lot! It’s not the truly correct answer of putting the classic s-shield on Routh’s Crisis suit, but next to that it addresses all my issues with what Hoechlin’s had so far: the belt’s better (and visibly functions as a belt) and does the missing trunks’ job of breaking up the colors, the boots are streamlined, the texture of the cape is better, and the cape clips are placed so that the cape drapes over him as it should while still providing the apparent comfort of that compared to tucking it in. Not wild about the red cuffs or the two-tone on the bodysuit, and if the lighting isn’t deceptive it needs to be more colorful, but as if nothing else a representation of where the creators’ heads are at I find it very encouraging, and the suits have always been tweaked over subsequent seasons on the CW shows anyway.

The truly big thing however is that this is hot on the heels of Superman & Lois being officially picked up as a series rather than waiting for the pilot to be judged - obvious as it seemed, it would have also seemed obvious that they’d pull the trigger on this 3 years ago, and also there was always the worry that the movie division would either pull themselves together or simply chicken out and pull the plug on this at the last minute. But now it’s official, and having been 3 years since I first gave thought to how a Hoechlin Superman series could work (Tulloch and Cryer weren’t even in the mix yet), many of my assumptions as to what would be in play have been dashed, and it’s ended up with distinguishing features going in I never would have guessed. So as is, my primary hopes for the series:

* For the first couple years, keep things relatively simple and streamlined in terms of season arcs. Todd Helbing’s in charge, and from what I’ve seen of his past work as showrunner of Seasons 4 and 5 of The Flash (where I jumped on, which is a shame since it sure seems like there was a drop in quality compared to what I’d been seeing before) he had a really hard time juggling the substantial cast of characters it had built up by that point alongside a season-spanning threat…but he also wrote or cowrote excellent individual episodes, including easily the best episode of the entire CWverse to my knowledge “Enter Flashtime”, and it’s arguable those seasons were generally casualties of having used up the obvious threats and buying time until Crisis. Going into this I don’t see much need for a sprawling supporting cast from jump, so if the overarching villain can be managed appropriately I don’t see him being a poor choice for shepherding the first season or two.

* Keep the soap operatics largely confined to the sons. Whether it’s Chris or Conner or Damian joining Jon, I’d imagine half the point of bringing in a pair of teenagers to a show with a pair of leads who have moved past the figuring-out-life-and-love travails of your average CW protagonist is so that *they* can do that stuff instead. Let Lois and Clark focus on reporting and superheroics and as advertised “the stress, pressures and complexities that come with being working parents in today’s society”, along with assorted character journeys and challenges tailored to them that fall outside the typical arc of CW series leads. Meanwhile, the teens can contend with burgeoning love lives and deciding who they want to be alongside figuring out how to become heroes.

* Maybe break it up across multiple timelines? I know they did a lot of this sort of thing with Arrow with the flashbacks and flash-forwards as series-spanning anchors; maybe there’d be something to be mined here with present-day sections, past sections of Superman’s earlier years in Metropolis before he and Lois got together or Lex turned on him, and future events. Heck, the latter could get the super sons as teens without any need to age them up in the present, and permit easy crossovers with Legends or the upcoming apparently future-set Green Arrow and the Canaries.

* Lex obviously has to be in the mix, but shouldn’t be the sole villain of the first season when he was already the bad guy for the last season of Supergirl. Given his amazing new status quo of being Silver/Bronze/Modern-Age Lex masquerading as Byrne’s Luthor, taking him down would be the obvious centerpiece of the Daily Planet chunk of the series, especially for Lois since that’s presumably going to be her primary domain. Once he’s exposed though totally go all-out supervillain with him.

* Can’t believe I’m saying this, especially on the heels of that last note, but maybe don’t get too political. I know Supergirl has made efforts, but everything I’ve heard about the execution sounds incredibly mixed, between a black Machester Black being told not to kill Nazi stand-ins, and the first preview for the current season basically opening with Supergirl narrating “We deposed our corrupt Trump analogue, so I thought people would be committed to fighting for social justice…but they’re obsessed with their Facebook gizmos instead!”, a truly bizarre instance of trying to appease all sides. Totally have instances of Superman taking some lefty or at least liberal stances as is tradition, but it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to try and build a season around a given message given both the track record and that all the extra eyes on this will mean it being subject to even more extensive pressures.

* Speaking of the number of eyes on it, god I hope this is allowed to get weird even given it’s probably going to be the flagship for the network and therefore will definitely have higher-ups wanting to make sure it isn’t alienatingly off-beat. They put Beebo and Sargon the Sorcerer in the Crisis finale for Christ’s sake! The least they could do is let Hoechlin fight Krull or go on an adventure with Calvin Ellis, and let Tulloch get witch powers and tame Titano; the last live-action Superman show in Lois & Clark was made in a pre-Morrison world and aired on ABC, and it still had a time-travelling H.G. Wells as a recurring character and an episode where he gets shrunk down to a teeny-tiny little Superman (which also just happened with this guy!). The clear All-Star influence so far is a good sign along with how odd The Flash has frequently gotten as the current center to their shared universe - including under Helbing - but this is still probably my primary concern. Give us at least a few truly high concepts per season even if I suspect the goofiness will be toned down relative to its older siblings.

* I’m not that concerned with the villains: he’s got a few established already between Lex, Metallo, Mongul, Reactron, Zod (maybe the inexplicable decision to have had Superman kill him off-screen can be undone by Crisis), Maxima, and Doomsday, it’s implied by Elseworlds he got his own Bizarro, Brainiac’s easy to introduce, and the villains introduced as specifically Supergirl’s enemies such as Parasite, Silver Banshee, and Mxyzptlk could easily roll into Metropolis. And there’s plenty of other possibilities with the likes of Solaris, Prankster, Subjekt-17, Terra Man, Magog, Ultraman, Riot, or Atomic Skull who either have tons of potential to unearth, or don’t but as a simple visual or gimmick could easily carry an episode or two. I’d still prefer the more exploration/mystery-driven angle suggested in my original pitch up above, but I recognize that’s not too likely.

* Finally, if he’s truly committed to being done after getting the little epilogue and sendoff he deserved he’s got all the right in the world, but if Routh would have any interest absolutely make him the shows’ equivalent to John Shipp on Flash as Uncle Kal from Earth 96, popping by every now and then to be the fun uncle to the boys and give Clark life advice.

#Superman & Lois #Superman #Lois Lane #Superman's Suit #Tyler Hoechlin #Elizabeth Tulloch #DCTV #Todd Helbing #Lex Luthor #Brandon Routh #Superhero Costumes #Opinion

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honestlyfrance · 4 years

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Hope you get over your writers block soon, here’s a question. The titles for your fics are beautifulll, how do you come up with them? That’s something I always hate to think about

Hi! Thanks for saying so, means a lot, and yup, I'm feeling pretty motivated after writing this lmao 💕

kinds of titles and how to

Titles are hard to do. Period. My title game now I'm in a new fandom/platform is the worst to date. I once sat down pre-AO3 and made 16 titles and they're pretty lovely. Anyway, always remember this: Look at other titles for inspiration or find inspiration instead. That's all you'll need to know, so I'll share some titles along the way to give you some inspo.

First thing you need to do is know what makes a title. Titles are always from a Motif (a recurring theme), a line, a character, a question, the goal from the work. It's a must that you're comfortable with and like your title, because that will always be with you.

Another thing is I look at other titles so I can make up my own. Finding inspiration is always key. Titles from media/books I look up to are: Sense and Sensibility; Great Expectations; The Town That Dreaded Sundown; The Old Man With A Gun. Getting inspired by your own titles are always a must too, because it gives you that boost of confidence, like, "I made this one great title so I can definitely make more!" I'll give you some ideas from mine and ways I made them, so some tips and tricks for you! But, and this is addressed to everyone, please don't copy them! They are my wips and my work, don't take them away from me!

Latin or other languages: Stella & Cera; Carpe Noctem; Apotelesma; Malacia; Eros.

Might I suggest looking up Latin phrases? This gives your work a fancy name, sure, but this works even better if it's in the work itself. For example, I used Stella & Cera because the work is Icarus inspired. Stella means Sun and Cera means wax, which aligns the myth pretty right. I used Carpe Noctem because the setting was nighttime and the characters were taking a chance, hence, Seize the Night. You can definitely use any other language, but it's best if you pour yourself into research so you won't use a foreign word mistakenly.

Dark adjectives or verbs: What Alexander Killed; What Killed Sam?; Killing Kennedy; To Kill A Masochist; The Synthesia Project; Justice For Maria; Bury Me Here.

Don't use this kind of title if no one is going to die, but you could use it in a metaphorical sense. Did you kill their mentality or an Identity? Go ahead then! I use this kind because it really just sets the record straight, and it definitely adds tension and stakes at first glance. It sends questions and goals all in one, and it definitely catches your eye, doesn't it? You'll feel afraid of it, definitely, but again, it's either because the work is a murder mystery, thriller, or horror, which this kind should fall into.

Names: The Missing Letters Between Sergeant James Barnes and Detective Samuel Wilson; Victorina Gavin; Mirage Of John; Reaching Elizabeth; Jan; The Other Half of Eliza; francis, love me; The Waiter.

This kind of title gives you a lot of freedom because it gives the readers the names of the characters in the work at first hand! It's best paired with adjectives (Reaching Elizabeth), statements or dialogue (francis, love me), or it could be a standalone (Victorina Gavin). If you're using this kind for a fandom where everyone knows the character, then you shouldn't use the standalone name. Maybe use an adjective or noun; use it freely but not insultingly or degradingly.

Places: Find Me In San Francisco; In The Hangar; Alexandria & Berlin; Two Rooms; Kingdom of Filasa; Nevis to Geneva.

This! I always have a soft spot for these kinds of titles, sue me. If you're going to use these kinds of titles, make sure there's a notable setting in the work itself and if it's an important place. You can use it with nouns/verbs (Find Me In San Francisco) or you can make connections with it (Nevis to Geneva). I only ever use this kind as a last resort, only because I have a favorite kind of title lmao since some of my works don't have notable places except for setting. There should be emotional attachment, I think, if you use this. For example, Nevis To Geneva is about Soulmates from different countries— continents even —attached by a string. Kingdom Of Filasa on the other hand, wherein the kingdom itself is a major plot point in the work.

Statements/Poetic/Metaphor/Motif: The Study In Belief; life & liberty; Angels In Moonlight; Bouquet Of Lovers; No Name; We Almost Became When; Liberty Wears A Green Gown; It Rains On April 10th.

This is my type, for sure. This kind works best if your work is poetic or emotional, but even if it isn't, it really pulls readers in. I know I will be. Some of these have double meaning, but they're mostly there for poetic reasons or just plain right off the bat. Angels In Moonlight: summoning an angel at midnight. We Almost Became When: "almost" is a Motif (recurring theme) in the work. Bouquet Of Lovers: the number of flowers in your hair is the amount of Soulmates you have. This kind of title comes to you at the last minute or before you're going to bed, there's no in between.

Double meaning: No xio us To xic; State Of Stone; please. touch. me; Defective.

These are fun because you can reveal the actual meaning in the work, for example: No xio us To xic is from Noxious Toxic, explaining that the MC hasn't gotten over his past toxic relationships, giving him an obscured idea of love. State Of Stone is actually set in a museum, and in some point in the work, they're asking for help, hence State of Stone, SOS. Defective on the other hand is about how a detective's career crashed when she wasn't able to cover up the rumors of her current case.

Lines and Dialogue: to bleed on paper is to create; Death To The Ending; believe not, dad; hurt not, love; my achilles & patroclus; offering love until it hurt.

This became my go to when I joined AO3, just because it's easier, which it is! You're just taking your favorite line from any place of the work and slap it on as a title. Note: Make sure it doesn't spoil the story! This works perfectly if there's a line regarding the whole plot or simply summarizes the work (believe not, dad). Offering love until it hurt was a line that inspired the whole work actually, and was able to summarize the MC's goals and beliefs in one go.

If all else fails, slap a song title on it (If you're doing fics!). I literally do not realize some titles are song titles with how good it is, and if you're wondering, song titles are valid. Shut up, I love you, even if you say you can't title. Somedays I wish I could just do that.

Hope this helps 💖 there are definitely more kinds of titles, but these are mostly the basics!

ask for writing advice?

#france answers #writing tips #france: writing tips #justficsandstuff #my mutuals yo!!!

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ambersky0319 · 4 years

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I keep having this recurring dream where I have 3 mom's, and they're all amazing!! They love me!!! I love them!!! We're all happy!!!! I feel happy 24/7!!! And it's great! One of them is Latina, I dunno how I know I jist remember ig, but she has black curly hair like you do. She looks kinda like your pfp? And I'm *assuming* that's a drawing of you, so pls correct me if I'm wrong. Anyway, I was curious if it was you in my dreams, being one of my moms. (1/?)

I have a guess as to who one of the other moms is. I'm pretty sure it's Le?? ? (Lefaystrent, if you didn't know.) She has a black ponytail, and she sounds like Le. She calls me Taco as a joke, too, so I'm like 90% certain Le's invaded my dreams to become one of my 3 mom's. It's kinda weird to think about,,,,, :/ I'm kinda disappointed that you're not one of the moms asdfghjkl. Sorry sorry >

It's different!! I feel happy all of the time, I'm supported, I'm doing better in school!! The moms are almost always home, but they give me space but also hang out with me. We have this big house, and my bedroom has a hay window and my room is the way I want it to be. I'm,,, less fat, dunno how to say it properly, but I'm thin and uh,,, prettier? (They're unrelated, but I'm thinner and prettier) I guess. I'm exactly the way I want to be, but I'm still myself. Just the best version of me. (3/?)

We have a backyard, too!! We have 3 Cats, 2 dogs, a bird, and a rat, and 2 snakes. I help with taking care of them. My back doesn't hurt in the dreams. We have cool technology. We play board games every Tuesday, and we go on daily walks. We're all so happy and perfect, it's great!! Iirc, I didn't get my period either, which is just odd. It's like I made the perfect fantasy world in my dreams. I don't like to think about it much, because none of my actual family members are there- (4/?)

-but Le is. And who I'm pretty sure was supposed to be you (but isn't, bc she's latina). The third mother is actually who I based an OC off of (it's weird ik). She's a POC with vitiligo. She's really smart and happy, and i love her to bits (my oc and dream mom). But, I really don't like thinking about it because dad isn't there, and if it really IS a fantasy world, that means I don't like soemthing about my Real Dad, and I don't wanna dive into THAT. The only actual real family member in- (5/?)

-in my dream world is my brother, Zack. But he's different, too. He's happier and he doesn't yell at me, and I don't yell at him. Which is reasonable, ig. I don't wanna fight with him, and I don't him to be depressed or upset ever again. And like. None of it is REAL, but it's starting to affect me. Zack yells at me, and I think about how in the dream world he wouldn't. Dad tells me to do better next time, and I imagine my 3 mom's all hugging me telling me how proud of me they are. (6/?)

ANYWHO, this is getting kinda vent-y, so sorry. Didn't mean to that >

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

I can guess why there was confusion 😅

My pfp is actually an OC of mine, one of the characters of Cinomed Chronicles- Leona! I just really like her design, though the only thing we have in common is pale skin. Since she’s one of the main characters of the story and I have a lot of fun drawing her, 9/10 times she’s my pfp on social media

Also? You have no need to apologize for sending so many asks, or for this turning a bit more venty! It was really interesting, hearing about all of this! Your dream world sounds like the closest thing to paradise I think I’ve ever heard about.

Since you’ve already based an OC off one of your dream moms, maybe you should do that for everyone else who’s in the dream? Or maybe write a story based on all this if you aren’t doing so already? It might help you figure things out or, if you want to distance yourself a bit from the dream maybe writing or drawing it can help with that?

Though I don’t really know if it would actually do that, it’s just an idea-

And like, I’ve sorta been in your place before where certain things make you question things that happen irl and it ends up affecting you and i honestly don’t know what it’s called but uh yeah you’re not alone

Sorry that I’m not one of your dream moms! They really do sound amazing

If you ever need to vent though hun, my ask box is always open! (you can also just message me if that’d be more comfortable for you)

Love ya too! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜❤️🧡💛💚💙💜❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

#amber's amazing friends #vent #just in case ^^#ambersky ask #ask #tacochippy

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puppy-the-mask · 4 years

Text

OK! Premise time (got a bit carried away tbh)

Vaguely midieval setting, Mc is from a family of hunters and so knows her way all around the forest, befriending crows and ravens via scraps (because that is a dream of mine). Plot kicks off when homegirl’s brothers get snatched by the monster kingdom for trespassing onto their land for what was assumed to be nefarious reasons when really they just got a bit lost and nobody believes them. Back home Mc tells the knights what’s up and is promptly told to sit the fuck down because they have more important things to do. So she goes off on her own instead, armed with a hunting knife, a bow, and a walking stick she plans to sneak in and break her Bros out. Along the way she has to free herself of multiple well crafted traps and once she finally gets to where she’s headed (with some help from her very smart brothers leaving traces) she’s confronted by the Boi himself. With the capture of humans their town has sorta gone crazy, fighting to determine who will take them to the king. For now they’re kinda subdued but peace is flimsy. Mc ends up getting found out and into a pseudo sword fight (aka blocking for her life with a walking stick until an opening to book it) with our favorite skeleton while ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. Since Edge is distracted the other townsfolk take this as their cue to try and swoop up the prize, this goes splendidly terrible when the building they’re being kept in starts to collapse. Homeboy quickly figured it’s better to have at least 1 alive Human and manages to catch up to MC who is about to book it into a collapsing building like an idiot and pull her back before she gets crushed. I say collapsing but I wasn’t that much, as they could still get down to the holding cell and *surprise* the boys are gone~

Now! For what was happening with the boys. Seeing as how I’m the one daydreaming these are My brothers, the oldest of which is a very social person. So obviously he’s chatting with the only other person there, Red. Meanwhile middle brother is trying to think of a way out. This goes on until things start getting dicey and the house is rumbling. Red gets hurt but the three of them escape (because who are we kidding, of course there’s a secret emergency exit) and so are stuck together for the time being relying on each other.

Back to the duo, upon seeing the empty cell and majorly f-ed foundations they leave the house and end up begrudgingly having to work together because of their shared love of and willingness to do whatever it takes to help their family and find their brothers.

Some scenes that popped up were- Edge being a dick to birds and Mc lecturing him about Corvids and their ability to hold grudges. This may have plot relevance, because yes

Edge getting stuck in something and REFUSING to ask for help. “I’ll help you out, but you a) have to ask and b) have to use my name” he ends up passing out and waking up to her ranting about him being an absolute prideful idiot. This leads to an argument because she wasn’t exactly being nice either. This actually leads to a civil apology because CHARACTERS CAN ADMIT WHEN THEY’RE WRONG AND BEING PETTY. Eventually some themes will become recurring until they’re close enough travel companions to admit their faults/insecurities and why they keep acting how they do so they can better themselves.

Meanwhile with The Bois, so many Hijinks have insued and it’s glorious. I can’t say what but you know they are Best Buds by now and are up to absolutely No Good

When they finally catch up and have their reunion, it’s to the most awkward and hard to explain scene that the duo has just walked in on. Mc is keeled over laughing, barely standing by leaning on Edge, and Edge himself is just sighing resigned like “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN” because ofcourse his brother was doing dumb shit the whole time he’s been looking for him, what else would he be doing?

But don’t worry, there are emotional reunion moments between the bros, just when less people are around to witness them. Meanwhile Mc’s Bros just rounded the corner and she just fucking busts out crying and hugs her brothers because, unlike certain spiky companions- she isn’t bad with public displays of affection. A little bit of rest and a few tankards of ale later and they’re sharing stories around a campfire.

Oh, and did I not mention? Pre-reunion There was only one sleeping bag MWAHAHAHAHA!!!! I mean, Mc was prepared for a long trek after her Bros, and then gained a party member who was decidedly not. He refused to share until a good ways through their journey of course, cause right off the bat when they still loathe each other’s existence it’d be real weird. So it was moss and bunched up leaves for him.

Imagine, they’re about to go to bed when someone brings up their lack of sufficient sleep equipment. Only 3 for 5 people. Previously the Bros had combined theirs into 1 big pallet but... what about them? Kekeke. The two- having forgotten how most people don’t cuddle adventure buddies since it’d just become the norm? And also how damning nightly snuggles seems to people who Obviously won’t get that they’re TOTALLY FRIENDS WHO JUST DO SO OUT OF NECESITY. (And comfort)

Mc kinda drops the ball- “I don’t know about y’all but I’m a big fan of cuddles” cue a smack upside the head and ‘OOOHHH’s to ring in some heads. A little (sorta) tactful talk from both sets of siblings and our oblivious duo- in trying to defend that it’s totally not a thing- realize they totally have a thing going on and oh Fuck I Like It . they’re both oblivious cornballs who’ve been too focused on sibling retrieval to pay attention to their growing bond with their travel partner and now that they see it they have no idea how to handle it.

Now, you may ask, how can this end? If the kingdoms are separated and such then how shall they live in peace? WOODLAND CABIN BAYBEEEE!!!!!! Who tf goes into the woods? Not just anyone if they don’t wanna get lost. Plus it’s neutral ground. What about the siblings? They can build their own or visit- up to them. And since both town’s are in visit distance, edge can probably just commute/go on buisness trips if he has to go places for guard things. Mc is a hunter so her job is the woods so that’s easy.

Anyways, enemies to lovers is good when done right. Slowly and through comradery

#casual conversation #CAS WHY ARE YOU STILL AWAKE #Ideas #ok i sleep now- NIGHT!!!#long post

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dzthorne · 5 years

Text

Book Interview Tag

Thank you @kindofwriter for tagging me in this interesting scenario. A little late but I wished to complete this anyways. Without further ado:

You know we all sit there thinking about being in a book interview, so I thought I’d make a tag meme! Pick a WIP and tag some friends!

1. What prompted you to write your novel/story/script/podcast/poetry collection?

My writing actually began in my senior year of high school. The guidance counselor took note of how I would subconsciously lose things just to rewrite them for the sheer desire of wanting to write. He suggested I try creative writing which I had never attempted or considered an option though I worked at a bookstore myself. A few days later I was glancing at the back of a book and took note of two words that sang to me from the description, “psychotic angel”. From these words my story was born.

I created many worlds from that point forward, but now that I have decided to actually attempt to publish a novel for the first time, I came back to the story that started it all, to see not only how much my ability has grown, but as a tribute to that counselor who pushed me in the right direction, and as a reminder that we all start somewhere.

2. Who has been the biggest influence on this piece of work?

The biggest influence upon my current work in progress falls upon two people actually. My wife who has effortlessly promoted me and survived me wanting to talk about ideas I have brainstormed and nothing else whilst out on a date night; as well as an old friend and fellow writer I have known for many decades, they helped me find my voice and understand what I wanted to say when I was first starting out.

3. Was your main character inspired by anyone you know? Do you think they appreciate the likeness?

I honestly have two main characters who are connected by more than blood. They are both based upon real life people I knew. The male character was inspired by a mix of people and the best traits of each mixed with a few of the worst traits. The female was actually based upon that fellow writer I mentioned previously. She is aware, and is overly critical as she doesn’t want to look bad in my novel. Haha she has nothing to worry about.

4. Why do you think people need to read your book?

This question is always hard for me to answer, because I do not write with the intention of making people read it. I read to allow me to survive in a world overly fraught with the darkness harbored within everyone. I read to explore things not possible in our mundane, boring world. Books have made things possible in my world that allowed me to grow into who I am, and made life bearable in ways it would never have been otherwise.

A better question, is what do I hope to get out of writing. In that case my answer is simple. I wish to give that same help, have that same impact on just one single person, no matter who that person may be. If I can make one individual’s life a tiny bit easier, than I will count myself accomplished. That is all that matters to me.

5. Whom are you most excited for to read your book?

Honestly my wife and my kids, as well as my best friend who once a month sends me the video of Stewie from family guy asking Brian about that book he will never finish to remind me that he is indeed still waiting. haha.

6. Which is your favorite scene that didn’t make it into the final draft?

A scene I had to cut with a heavy heart happened to be where a sibling of the main POV was looking into some rumors that he didn’t believe. It was his intro scene and I was quite fond of this scene. However a friend talked me into watching a popular show (which wasn’t bad but I never finished it) and I came across a scene on there that also was a sibling looking into things for different reasons though. However the similarities between the show’s version and mine were similar enough that I wasn’t comfortable keeping it and had to scratch the scene.

7. Do you have any more stories planned that are set in the same universe?

I do have one more story in mind, within the third universe. Not a continuation per se, but an after the fact storyline that takes place after the events of the original story. It follows the events of how life in the human world changed when the three realms were separated.

8. What would you say is the main theme of your book?

My main theme? I would have to say it has strong elements of those who just wish to find themselves and their place in a world that is constantly changing for better or worse, with strong elements of balance in all things. Balance is a recurring theme in all of my stories in some shape. If you don’t know what I mean, I guess you now have reason to read my work.

9. Do you have any plans for a movie adaptation of your work? What would you have to change? What would absolutely have to stay the same?

I see everything in my mind as a video reel, and I have been referred to by many as a method writer, getting into character mentally as I write. So when I write, its the equivalent of watching a movie and hurriedly trying to write down every detail of the scene as it plays with no ability to pause or rewind.

How does this pertain to the question? My work is already written as if it were a movie thanks to how my mind works, though you cannot always tell from reading it, making an adaptation to the big screen easier than it might be for others. Would I go that route? I never decided. But it wouldn’t be out of the question.

10. What’s one quote that you wrote that just stuck with you?

This would actually be a quote from a secondary character that affects the thinking and growth of the main POV later on:

“There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept. How do we know those kept promises benefit us?”

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

I did not tag anyone but feel free to use the questions if you are interested. Until next time.

youtube

#writing #a little about me #view into my world

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aikainkauna · 6 years

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Fic mehm

This was shortish, so might as well post it here. Snurched from the lovely @trelobita .

-What is your total word count on AO3?

-1 421 808. That little?!? I thought I would've gone past the 2 million mark a long time ago. What with Connie whipping me on the way he does.

-How often do you write?

-When the right mood/inspiration comes, and when I'm healthy enough (both mentally and physically) to be in writing condition. Which is not often enough; I hate it when I do want to write, but brain fog and/or physical fatigue mean I can't keep my brain going or my body upright. That's mostly for fiction, though. I can type bloggity waffle like this, and could just about proofread a sex toy review today despite it being a brainfog/tireded day. The deadline for the review was today, so I did it under duress and must've left something out or fucked up some grammar as consequence. Finnish conjugations are hell when your memory is shot to pieces; English is much easier to write because you don't have to remember how to conjugate a word to denote it's in the past tense for a plural with a conditional towards place A, signifying inclusion. No, I'm not joking. Sauvallanikinkos? ("Also with my wand, too, maybe?")

-Do you have a routine for writing?

-My body isn't good with routines and schedules, so no. The only pattern I have is to try and get 1000 words done at least and then to email myself the latest draft after I've finished writing.

-What are your favourite tropes?

-Have you got a month? (This question foolishly asked about your favourite kinks and tropes and pairing types all in the same question, BTW, so I split it up into three questions, because... c'mon.)

Tropes:

-Flawed characters who are still somehow understandable and appealing; not the typical Asshole Protagonist or antihero thing so much but more of an... well, I guess it's just good characterisation I prefer, in the end. Not that kind of squickily obvious macho power fantasy sold as "grittiness" just for the sake of being an asshole (funnily enough, that kind of crap usually comes from the kinds of people who have too much privilege in the first place). So, yeah, good characterisation that's still got some shreds of humanity left is my jam.

-Telepathic lovers. Exactly because it hurts so much when the person who's supposed to love you the most and to understand you the best doesn't, and vice versa. So that's a big RL trauma and squick I prefer to fix, because in fic, I CAN.

-That's a major one, actually. Fix-its not so much on a plot level but on a human level. Especially sexism/gender bullshit-breaking fixes. Fix-its get a bad rap, but that kind of thing, just like the bashing of romance and fanfic, sets off my "ah, this wouldn't be the devaluing of something considered empathic and female/feminine again, now would it?" alarms.

-This overlaps with the pairing thingy, but the Depraved Bisexual is my favourite character type to write. All the Connies, Tennant!Peter Vincent, Captain Renault, Zainab, Laura, etc... YES.

-Male character gives up some masculine privilege he doesn't fancy anyway for the sake of love and empathy/female character gives up stereotypical female things she doesn't fancy anyway in order to be herself and free herself as much as she can from society's chains. Give Torsten all the pwetty dwezzez he wants and for Falcon!Yassamin to remain childfree, dammit!

-Man cuddles and medicates woman during her period and actually empathises/feels how awful it is. As I was saying about the fix-its...

-Funny banter, even if I can't write it as hilariously as I'd want to.

Favourite kinks?

-Poetic prose and Romanticism. It's word porn or nothing, baby.

-Historical detail, accuracy preferred but depends on how the story wants to go (the Barmakids DON'T get butchered horribly by Harun al-Rashid in 803, TYVM).

-Anal! That's almost too obvious to mention.

-Androgynous, genderbending, sex-bending, femme men. Why do you think Connie is the love of my life?

-Lots of arousal-drippage.

-Some way for the bottom to see themselves being banged. Mirrors or telepathy or magic or video camera projecting it before their eyes or whatever. Unfff.

-Orgasms. Always orgasms to complete satisfaction. Orgasm denying or writing it badly or so vaguely that characters/readers can't get any catharsis/release for the arousal is a huge squick. That's a hard limit. Fuck characters who tease and don't let someone get off.

-Psychological/emotional depth. That's such a no-brainer it shouldn't even be necessary to mention (although in these days, it seems to be, because apparently wanting that is now a repressed sexual minority instead of normal human, especially female, sexuality. Oh, fuck off). Yeah, these memes do bring out the pet peeves about internalised misogyny, don't they? Especially the sort that manifests itself in sputter-inducing ignorance. Even my medieval characters and their somewhat dated and essentialist ideas of sex and gender are ahead of Tumblr in the very basics, FFS.

-BDSM that's based very much on extreme care and healing, the sort that uses the intense sexual activities/sensory overload as a kind of way to heal the sub's anxieties and to help the sub let go, achieve catharsis and release. And for the top's love to be the guiding, ravishing, then healing and comforting force that contains the sub and the sub's anxieties in a fiercely loving and protective way and absolutely, so that not a drop spills over. So, yep, BDSM as therapy is my kink in both RL and in fic. Not so much a desire to humiliate or to be humiliated, but on the contrary, to value and to honour the other half. The top finds strength and validation through being the healer, through their power being able to do something good (instead of tearing someone down and having power over them through that). Yes, I know that's not everyone's idea of BDSM, but it's mine and that's what you'll get if it's a healthy relationship I'm trying to portray. (The Barrings and Zainab and Fadl don't have the healthiest ideas of sex, anyhow; Jaffar/Pwinzezz usually do.)

And I'm leaving out so many. You only have to look at my Ao3 pages to see the recurring themes:p

Favourite pairing types?

-Experienced Depraved Bisexual Character/Less Experienced and/or Repressed Character, GIMMIE. Fucking love that shit.

-Similar: Older, More Experienced Man/Younger, Horny Woman.

-Horny couple, usually M/F, seduce someone into a threesome. The Rosesverse and Devilry are full of this, so might as well admit it.

-Do you have a favourite fic of yours?

-I do have a soft spot for the first two fics in the Falconverse. As if you didn't all know that already! They do have some noticeable flaws here and there, especially the first one (I still insist that weird lube choice was HIS and not mine; I do know better and yelled at him at the time), but they still contain my deepest and most profound writing both erotically (and I mean that in the widest sense of the word, encompassing all things Love) and spiritually and character-wise. Defy Not The Stars also turned out better than I expected, considering I had never attempted so much plot and a traditional historical romance novel before. But I guess that Roses, what with its length, has allowed me to explore more aspects of the characters and their lives than anything else I've written. And of course, considering Devilry is my most-read saga ever, I do have a soft spot for that pile-up of a car crash. If only for the sheer intensity of the ride; I was just thinking yesterday how it really was aghori sadhana done through writing. Meditating in a graveyard is for wimps; try spending months in Torsten Barring's fragrant boypussy.

-Your fic with the most kudos?

To no one's surprise, Because The World Belongs To The Devil, at 234 kudos.

-Anything you don’t like about your writing?

-I suck at pacing sometimes. The sex scenes tend to run overlong if I write them in several sessions instead of just one go. It's not that the characters want to try different sex acts and shag more than once during a night, but more that the tension is spread out unevenly ("JFC, why did they change position again? I want them to just fucking come already, damnit!") This is obviously a result of how many things *I* see in my mind's eye during a wank; it's always more of a clipshow of different sex acts and pairings and orientations than one straightforward scenario. I'll be more mindful of that in the future and have been watching out for it in the past few fics already; I don't think the shags in The Guardians of Samarkand overran, for example.

-And sometimes my kinks get too obvious and repetitive for me, too, the way any porn gets tedious and repetitive. But on the other hand, I know very well that fanfic *is* about us imposing our kinks on our darlings, no matter how much we may go on about our dedication to characterisation and such. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: what's key is to get away with your kinks *but* in such a way that they can also engage the reader and that they become interesting and enjoyable not just for you, but for the readers, too. And you need good characterisation for that, and it's a really delicate balance to juggle your kinks and believable characterisation.

-Something you *do* like about your writing?

-I can write immersively and deeply and engage all the senses (sight, touch, scent...) in rich detail, as well as go deeply and profoundly into the emotions. And write some fucking hot porn ;) Those are the things I've had praise for, at least. Maybe my spiritual bits aren't as relatable or something, because people hardly ever remark on those (interestingly, my mum is the only one to have taken up those bits! But I skim over the sex scenes when I read the fics to her, so she only gets the gen). Or then it's the fact that most of the time it's Thief of Bagdad fic, and thus in an Islamic context, and most readers aren't familiar enough with, say, Sufism, to feel like they're qualified to comment without making arses out of themselves. But of course I like my spiritual bits; I'm an ex-religions major!

This had a taggity thing at the end, but I hate doing those because it always puts pressure on them even if you say they don't have to (come, now. The pressure is there, the moment you mention someone by name). I don't own the meme or you, so, as always: do what thou wilt.

#writing #meme #meta #personal #i guess #ao3 #fic

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bevioletskies · 7 years

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sweet child o’ mine

characters: peter/gamora, peter & meredith

summary: peter has a bit of an out-of-the-box idea for his one-month anniversary with gamora - visiting his mother for the first time since returning to earth.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: if you haven’t read the main fic, all you need to know is: a) the guardians attend a superhero school on earth, b) therefore they are in their early-to-mid 20s (except for rocket and groot), c) peter and gamora were fake-dating but are now dating for real, and d) they’ve been playing an “endless” game of twenty questions since they started fake-dating as a way of getting to know each other. however, very little of those plot points are brought up in this particular fic.

all i know about peter's hometown is what i got from google, so apologies for any inaccuracies. there are also lots of headcanons about meredith mentioned here, including her middle name and birth year, which I don't believe are given in the mcu or the comics.

fic title is from the song sweet child o’ mine by guns n’ roses.

ao3 | tag | masterpost

“Peter, for the love of everything, will you please stop pacing outside my door and just come in already?”

Sheepish, Peter slowly opened Gamora’s bedroom door, gingerly peering around it like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Only, she couldn’t see his hands, because for some reason, he was holding them behind his back. She vaguely wondered if he had been playing around with Rocket’s odd arsenal of knick-knacks and accidentally handcuffed himself (again). “He-e-ey, Gamora,” he drawled. Clearly, he was aiming for nonchalance. Personally, Gamora thought he looked a bit constipated. “What’re you up to?”

“Wondering what’s wrong with you this time,” she teased. She set her book aside and sat up in bed, folding her arms across her chest. This ought to be good, she thought.

“Well - uh, it’s our one-month anniversary. And before you freak out on me, I wasn’t expecting anything from you. Or that we have to do anything. We don’t even have to talk about if you don’t want, like, what anniversary, am I right? Why would we talk about it, it’s not that big of a deal, and - ”

“Peter. Sometime today, please.”

“I was thinkin’ over the weekend about doing something nice for you, y’know, just ‘cause, and remember the bake sale during homecoming week? Anyways, I got other Peter to get his Aunt May to make you more of those chocolate muffins you liked.” With a flourish, Peter presented what he’d been hiding behind his back - a tupperware container, holding a dozen of the aforementioned muffins. “I swear, I just wanted to preface this with our anniversary so you know I wasn’t trying to make these a part of it. I just wanted to get you chocolate. Because I know you ran out of the Hershey’s bars you keep stored in that box under your bed.”

Gamora blinked, stunned. “You knew about that?”

“Groot and I were playing hide and seek,” he shrugged. “Anyways, um, you want these, right?”

Laughing softly, she finally moved aside, ushering for him to join her on the bed. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Peter, that was sweet of you.” She accepted the container, setting it down on her nightstand so she could move closer to kiss him. “Has it really been a month?”

“One month, yeah. Or according to everyone else, seven months,” he chuckled. “Think we’re good to go for another?”

“I think so,” she hummed, giving him a sly smile. “Although our last outing made me question things a little.”

“In my defense, that karaoke bar was total false advertising - when they said oldies, I thought they meant Earth, Wind & Fire, not the freaking Backstreet Boys - ”

“I meant your awful choice in ‘greasy food’,” she interrupted, though she was grinning as she said it. Peter was pleased to see her using air quotes, something she had never understood prior to arriving on Earth. It was rather sweet, seeing her pick up Terran mannerisms, especially ones that Peter was fond of using himself. “What did we learn about suspicious-looking food trucks?”

“To take Yelp reviews more seriously,” Peter nodded. She fixed him with another stern look. “To actually check Yelp first.” Gamora rewarded him with another kiss, allowing Peter to wrap his arms around her middle and pull them down onto the bed, their heads landing softly onto the pillow. She deepened the kiss, glad to finally have some alone time with Peter for the first time all day. Reluctantly, however, Peter moved away first, his hands sliding upwards to gently cup her jaw. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I also had a favor to ask.”

“You’re not going to surprise me with an anniversary date, are you? Because I have a midterm tomorrow,” she said, frowning.

“No, not that,” he promised. “I, uh...we’ve got a long weekend coming up, and I was thinkin’ about…” Peter let out a slow exhale, his breath trembling slightly as he did so. Concerned, Gamora brought her hands up to rest over his, rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs. It was rare to see him so unnerved. “...I was thinkin’ about...going home.”

“Home? As in your hometown?”

“I feel like it’s the right time. I’ve really settled into who I am and who I wanna be, you know? And I think now’s the time to go back and see who I was,” he said, giving her a rueful smile. “But I don’t...I don’t wanna be alone. I was thinking about asking Mantis, since she could keep me from getting over-emotional, but then I realized it would be missing the whole point. I mean, I’ll take her eventually, but I think the kind of emotional support I really need is from you. If you can. And only if you want to, of course.”

“Of course I do,” she murmured, her eyes warm. “I’m here for you, Peter. Or at least, I’d like to try my best to be. My only condition is that I pick where we stay. I don’t trust you to check reviews anymore.”

“Deal.” Peter buried his face in her neck, enjoying the comforts of her touch, her presence, her affections. “Thank you.” ______

The rest of the school week was spent rather anxiously - it was, indeed, midterm season, and the Guardians didn’t see much of each other outside of hellos and goodbyes if they happened to be on the ship at the same time. Peter and Gamora were sleeping separately as well, since they had very different study schedules and didn’t want to disturb the other. They were pleased to find their worries of recurring nightmares had come away unfounded - aside from one nightmare in which Peter had been eaten by a UFO shaped like a pepperoni pizza (the sketchy food truck experience had really stuck with him), they slept as peacefully as they always did, though admittedly a little better when they were together.

Peter also spent the week nervously anticipating what it would be like to return home. For lack of a better word, it would be weird to walk the streets of St. Charles, take in the sights and smells of a place that he’d known when he was a different person altogether. He was also a little worried about how Gamora would react, or how people would react to her. He had cautioned her about it beforehand - after all, there were people who didn’t take kindly to the word ‘alien’, let alone actually seeing one in person. But Gamora had insisted on not concealing her appearance - she would be wearing a hat and gloves, of course, given the crisp bite of October weather starting to settle in, but she wasn’t about to wear oversized sunglasses or a balaclava anytime soon.

On Thursday afternoon, the Guardians said their goodbyes to their leaders as they got ready to leave on their private plane (on loan from Stark, as always). Mantis was shocked to find that Peter was putting her in charge while they were gone, though he and Gamora had previously reasoned she would be the only one who could literally keep everyone’s emotions in check, and prevent them from killing each other in their absence. “Just don’t forget to make sure all the appliances are off and the windows are locked every night - and remember that Groot’s got that special soap since the other stuff makes his bark itchy - oh, and I’ve left a mixtape for him, it’s all the songs that he can fall asleep to - ”

“Peter, they’re our teammates, not house sitters,” Gamora sighed, tugging on his arm. “Come on, the pilot’s getting impatient.”

“Or maybe it’s just you,” Rocket snickered.

After several rounds of hugs (even Nebula accepted one from Gamora, awkwardly patting her on the back as she did so), the two of them boarded the plane, waving goodbye out the small windows as they took off. “This’ll be like the New York trip all over again,” Peter grinned, leaning forward as the seatbelt light switched off. “Except we weren’t dating at the time.”

Gamora shrugged as she knelt on the floor and began rummaging through her backpack for something. “We were fake-dating, so that counts for something. We also spent a lot of that trip sightseeing, so I suppose there will be some similarities.”

He watched her, curious as to what she was looking for. “Do you remember the last night of trip? When we danced in the hotel room?”

“Yes. Why?”

“We almost kissed that night.” Peter leaned back, reminiscing. It felt like years had passed since that moment, but it had been less than four months ago. “What do you think would’ve happened if we did?”

“I know what I would have done,” she said quietly, pulling out the item she’d been looking for - the tupperware container. “I would have thought it to be a mistake, because I didn’t really have romantic feelings for you then. Romantic curiosity, maybe. And then we would distance ourselves from each other out of self-doubt, and never realize our potential as a couple.”

“You think so?” She nodded, a bittersweet melancholy in her eyes as she sat back in her seat, holding the container almost protectively in her lap. “Well then, I’m glad it didn’t turn out that way after all. I like this outcome a lot better. We spent way too long being stupid about our feelings, but we got there in the end, hey?” He paused. “Gamora, did you eat eight muffins already? It’s been four days!”

“Midterms were stressful and combat practice wasn’t enough to blow off steam. I can hear the judgment in your voice,” she retorted, the evasiveness in her expression fading away in favor of playful mirth.

“That’s because I am judging you - can you get pimples? Or nosebleeds? Wait, no, you have a super good healing factor. Never mind, that was a dumb question. But geez, Gamora.” Giggling softly, she picked up one of the remaining four, broke it in half, and held it out for him. “You’re offering me half of one?”

“You did get them for me,” she teased, though she did hand him the other half. “Only because you asked so rudely.”

He shot her a mock expression of hurt, holding it for all of ten seconds before he began laughing with her. Peter could feel the somewhat dreaded anticipation of the trip and the tension in his shoulders melt away as he took his first bite, watching Gamora as she did the same in near-perfect synchronicity, her eyes twinkling. His heart beat a little faster at the sight - he would never quite get used to how natural it felt to be with her. It might’ve only been one month, but there was something about her that made him feel like they had been together forever - like he wanted to be with her forever. ______

They landed at the St. Charles County Airport about three hours later, just in time to pick up a quick dinner before heading to their hotel (“Are you gonna make me check Yelp for McDonald’s?” “Don’t sass me, Peter.”). They sat on the floor of the living room instead of at the table, eating and chatting about how chaotic their respective weeks had been. When they finished, Gamora moved closer to curl up against Peter’s chest as they watched reruns of a sitcom that they had never seen before, nor could they name.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” she commented a few episodes later, lifting herself up so she could properly examine his face. “Is something wrong?”

“If you can believe it, I think I’m overthinking things,” he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Just getting kinda worked up about going around the old haunts again. Even going to that McDonald’s was kinda weird, since I went to that one a lot as a kid. I mean, what’s it gonna be like when I visit my school? Or the park?”

“You also put the hospital down on the itinerary. I found that rather morbid of you,” she said, biting her lip. “I wasn’t going to ask, but...you aren’t going to go...inside the hospital, are you?”

“No, definitely not.” He began raking his fingers through his hair vigorously, as if he’d found an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. Before he could agitate himself any further, Gamora grabbed his hands, pulling them away from his scalp, pressing her thumbs against his fingers so she could force them to relax. She then brought his open palms against her own temples instead, staring up at him inquisitively. Smiling softly at her, he began running his fingers through her hair instead, and as she’d hoped, in a much gentler manner than he had been with himself. “I owe you one. For being here with me.”

“I’m still not very well-versed in dating protocol, but I’m pretty sure it’s not based on an exchange of favors,” she said, winding her arms around the back of his neck. “Although...since I got my fight clinic finally approved by the Director, I’ve been seeking a male demonstration partner.”

He furrowed his brow. “Me? I’m not a bad fighter or anything, but I’m definitely not the best. You could probably find someone more experienced.”

“But we already know each other’s fighting styles and instincts. You also tend to be my opposite, which would help greatly in showcasing different techniques,” she explained. Leaning in closer, brushing their noses together, she whispered, “I also happen to know your body quite extensively. That’s useful, don’t you think?”

“And you accuse me of sexual innuendos,” Peter muttered, though secretly he was proud. Also, if he was a little more turned on than he had been fifteen seconds ago, Gamora didn’t need to - no, actually, she would definitely know, considering she was sitting on his lap at this point. “Bed?” he said hopefully.

“Mm,” Gamora hummed, deliberating a little longer than he’d like, a mockingly thoughtful expression on her face. “We’re brushing our teeth first. Then yes, bed.” ______

Gamora woke up earlier than Peter, as she often did, scrolling through the plan Peter had cobbled together on his holo-tab. It wasn’t as detailed as she might have liked, but she supposed a trip like this didn’t necessarily call for structure. They weren’t making appointments or meeting with other people, the way they did when making supply runs. From what she could tell, they would be spending most of their time simply walking around, taking in their surroundings. Peter was probably going to tell her extensive details about everything in town, stories about what he’d seen or done here as a child, memories he’d shared with his mother.

She suspected if it wasn’t for Peter’s mother, he probably would have no desire to come back at all. It had barely registered to him when she had inquired about the rest of his family. “You don’t want to see the others? Surely, they must have seen or heard about you on the news,” Gamora had reasoned.

“If they were still around, they either don’t care about me or didn’t try to contact me. Or both,” he had shrugged. “Grandpa, he’s...he’s probably dead.” His voice had gone a little off on the last word, cracking with emotion, and she decided to drop it from there.

The morning was spent half-awake, a little restless from adjusting to a new bed and a new environment. Gamora had adapted quickly as always, but Peter grumbled about the mattress being too soft as he brushed his teeth, before they went out to get some groceries. His mood brightened a little upon seeing Gamora’s new ensemble - along with her typical leather pants and boots, she was also wearing a cable-knit sweater she had stolen from him that practically swamped her in fabric, a leather cape jacket that made her look every inch the badass that she was, and a thick wool hat, complete with fluffy pom-pom.

“You’re staring,” Gamora said without looking up as she pulled on her gloves.

“I’m wondering where you’re hiding your sword?” Peter tried. Gamora reached down to reveal that her smallest blade was tucked inside her boot. “Right. Also, you just look really gorgeous right now. That’s not to say you aren’t usually beautiful, I mean, you’re always beautiful, not that that’s the only thing about you that matters, because you’re just awesome all around, but like - ”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, except to the grocery store on schedule,” she snarked, grinning. “Come on, let’s go.”

While the hotel had been informed ahead of time who Peter and Gamora were (the owner had very generously offered a discount for their “hometown hero”, but Peter had declined, feeling oddly weird about the title and its implications), every other person and place remained oblivious, and therefore, surprised upon seeing them in the grocery store. A couple families in particular pulled their children a little closer when they saw Gamora, and if Gamora’s grip on both the shopping basket and Peter’s hand was a little tighter than normal (which admittedly wasn’t great for Peter’s blood circulation), he didn’t comment on it.

She relaxed once again when they arrived at Blanchette Park, armed with deli sandwiches and juice boxes on Peter’s suggestion. “I spent a lot of my childhood here,” he told her as they settled down at one of the picnic benches. “There’s a waterpark, and baseball fields, tons of open space for kids. My mom also enrolled me in daycamp here, too.”

“What’s that?” Gamora asked. She kept a wary eye on a group of children sprinting by, shrieking happily as they chased each other around the field. Some of them glanced over at her and Peter briefly - one even waved “hello” - before resuming their play.

“Daycamp? It’s a program that’s kinda like school, except there’s way less learning involved,” Peter chuckled. “We played sports, made art, did games and team-building exercises, storytime. That kinda thing.”

She nodded, lost in thought as she began eating, her eyes still roaming across the large open areas of the park. Peter had shown her the few old photos he had in his possession of him as a young boy, and she remembered wondering what he had been like. She could picture him, boisterous and buoyant, running across the park with the others, his long shaggy hair whipping about in the wind. She could also imagine him sitting quietly with his Walkman, watching the other children go by as he hummed along to his favorite song. “Question,” she said after they’d been eating in silence for ten minutes. “What’s your favorite memory here?”

“I dunno if I have one favorite memory,” he mused, taking another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s just a lot of good memories, you know? Runnin’ through the sprinklers, sittin’ under the tree and listening to music, people-watching. That kinda stuff.” He paused. “You’re smiling weirdly. What’s going on?”

“I was learning about accents in my espionage class the other day, and I was admittedly quite curious about yours,” she said, smiling a little shyly. “You sound almost like the others we’ve encountered - the hotel desk manager, the grocery store clerk - but you’ve picked up a little bit of dialect from being with the Ravagers, yes?” He nodded, wondering where she was going with this. “Since arriving here, it seems that your original accent is getting stronger. It’s kind of...cute.”

“You like the accent, huh?” Peter grinned, leaning across the table.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Gamora smirked in return, popping the last bit of her food in her mouth. “I only said ‘kind of’.”

After they finished lunch, they walked through the park at a leisurely pace - they were in no rush, this being their only stop of the day - hand-in-hand, enjoying the gentle breeze of the mid-October air. Peter began pointing out different spots he frequented, certain park benches he’d preferred or trees that he had tried to climb (the operative word being ‘tried’). “Broke my arm fallin’ outta that one,” he said cheerfully, when addressing what looked to be the largest tree in the entire park. “Tried again the next week after I got my cast off, on my seventh birthday. Only sprained my shoulder that time!”

“I worry about you sometimes,” Gamora sighed. “And by sometimes, I mean frequently.”

“Oh, and I kissed Kimberly W. under that tree. Or maybe it was Kimberly F.,” he wondered, eyeing an oak tree with a particularly low overhang.

“You’ve kissed many Kimberlys in your lifetime, it seems.” Gamora reached around to grab Peter’s other hand in hers and began walking backward, guiding him towards the aforementioned tree. “How old were you?”

“Does it matter?” Peter murmured. He swung their joined hands around to tuck them behind her back, slowly pressing her against the tree trunk, tipping his head in consideration. “I just wanna kiss you right now.” He bent down to meet her halfway as Gamora tilted her chin upwards. Just as their noses began to brush, eyelashes fluttering closed in anticipation, Peter suddenly found himself embracing empty air, as she’d slipped out from under him and was now jogging away, glancing over her shoulder at him with a wickedly devious smirk. “You’re the worst,” he called after her, though he sounded just about as fond as he felt.

“Lies and slander, you speak too frequently about how I’m your favorite person in the universe for that to be true,” she shouted back, beaming giddily. “Keep up, Peter, I’d like to see this ‘waterpark’ you speak of!”

They didn’t return to their hotel room until dark, having spent the entire day wandering the park and its adjacent areas. Peter offered to cook dinner, with Gamora supervising while she did some homework. She dragged one of the dining chairs over to the kitchen counter and sat down, bringing her knees up against her chest, her hair still damp from her shower. She was wearing another one of Peter’s shirts, her nose still flush from the heat of the hot water.

“I’m getting better at this, okay?” he protested, brandishing a wooden spoon at her when she chastised him for not paying attention to the stove, and nearly flicked her in the face with boiling hot chicken broth in the process. “Shit - sorry, babe.”

“Drax has been teaching you how to cook quite adequately, but I think it’s the kitchen safety you’re lacking,” she teased. “I’d like to take a look at the mission roster we have lined up for November, but your short attention span is making me nervous. If I go into the bedroom to get my tablet, do you promise not to set the kitchen on fire while I’m gone?”

He made a face. “Here.” He passed her his own holo-tab, already open to their mission docket, and returned to the stove, stirring vigorously. “What’d you have in mind for us?”

“I think we should discuss the potential dangers of the embassy job, but it would be the most lucrative in more than just units. Our reputation would benefit greatly as well,” Gamora said thoughtfully, beginning to scroll. “And speaking of units, I have a list of recommendations from Pepper regarding mattresses, so we should finally place an order next weekend, and then the others will stop bothering us. Oh, this is unrelated, but Janet’s requested we do dinner with her and Stark on Friday to go over the details of that Avenger-Guardian coalition. Are you available?”

“Should be, my only plans for Friday were to watch Back to the Future with you. Again.” Peter turned and carefully poured out two even portions of chicken noodle soup into bowls. “Hey, I did it!”

“It was from a can, Peter,” she chuckled. “But I’m very proud of you. So proud of you. So incredibly - ”

“Sarcasm’s a weird look on you,” he commented, handing her a bowl and spoon as they both walked over to the dining table. “But I can’t say I hate it.”

They were about two minutes into the meal when Peter paused to watch Gamora, a smile beginning to grow on his face. She wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting - eating absent-mindedly, her phone in her other hand as she checked her emails - but he couldn’t help but be enamored with every little thing about her, as mundane as it was. It was nice to just be around her, to not have to squeeze in a quick make-out session between training and dinner, to talk about everything and nothing at all without getting interrupted by their nosy friends. Getting to be completely alone for four whole days seemed more than ideal to Peter, even if it wasn’t under the best of circumstances. He was quite certain now that his decision to bring her instead of Mantis was the correct one - he loved his sister beyond compare, but her overly frenetic energy would likely stress him out even more. “I like this…this, domestic thing we’re doing.”

“Domestic?” She set her spoon down in her bowl, folding her arms neatly on the table.

“Me cooking while you’re looking over our plans, talking about how we’re gonna spend our money this month and the dinner dates we’ve got lined up...seems pretty domestic to me.”

“I suppose,” Gamora said, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “As I’ve said before, I have no basis for romantic relationships aside from pop culture and our classmates. But I’m very much enjoying this...us.”

“As am I.” Peter grinned, reaching across the table to briefly squeeze her hand. “Though that thing you did in the park? Not cool. I was really liking the idea of kissing you where I’ve kissed someone else before, replace it with a better memory.”

“Nice save,” she said dryly. “And were you not kidnapped when you were eight? How have you kissed so many people before then?”

“I knew that was bothering you,” he exclaimed, triumphant. “What can I say, I’m just that good. Ow.” Gamora had pelted him with a balled-up napkin and hit him square in the forehead. “Right. I’m just gonna shut up while I’m ahead.” ______

Peter woke up the next morning later than usual, feeling pleasantly warm and pliant. He rolled over to snuggle up against Gamora, only to find that the bed was empty. “Gamora?” he called, wondering if she was in the bathroom. When he didn’t get a response, he slowly walked out into the main living space to find her curled up on the couch, her back to him, on the phone.

“We aren’t coming back early unless it’s a real emergency, Nebula,” she was whispering, exasperated. “I couldn’t do that to Peter. This means a lot to him, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, sitting down next to her. She only held up a finger to hush him, though she reached over to pat his arm reassuringly to satiate him for the time being.

“Just get Mantis to keep it safe for now,” she continued, a little louder now that she knew he was awake. “Check in with me tomorrow and don’t let him get his hands on any of it. Yes. Yes. No, shut up.” Peter’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Okay. Bye.” Groaning, Gamora hit the end button and promptly slumped over face-first onto Peter’s lap, an unusually child-like reaction on her part.

He automatically moved to push her hair out of her face, his fingers tracing her jawline. “What was that all about?”

“Yondu somehow found the money and went on a rant about how it’s way more than we said it was, but I don’t recall ever disclosing the full amount,” she mumbled. “Nebula was actually quite mature about it, in her own way. She told Yondu I would kill him if he spent a single unit, provided she didn’t slit his throat for betraying me first.”

“I...guess that’s Nebula’s way of proving she loves you?” Peter wrinkled his nose. “We really are the mom and dad of this team, aren’t we? When the parents are away, the kids will play. Except in this case, the kids are stealing mom and dad’s money and threatening to murder each other.”

“Sounds about right,” she snorted. “We should have left the money with Mantis in the first place and gotten her to hide it, but I suppose it’s too late now.”

He bent to kiss her briefly. “Nothing we can do. Breakfast?”

Gamora suddenly got to her feet, half-sprinting towards the kitchen. “I’ve got it!”

“You can trust me to cook, you know,” he called after her.

“Omelettes don’t come in a can, Peter, so you’re out of luck,” she gleefully yelled back.

Once they had eaten and dressed for the day, they headed out for their next stop - Peter’s elementary school. Peter was adamant they would only be able to sit outside for a little while before it looked suspicious, but he did want to spend at least a little time there, maybe take a lap around the field at most. It was quite a clean, attractive building, albeit a little run-of-the-mill, with its mix of traditional brick and large, modern windows. Gamora could practically picture a young Peter running up and down its halls, his face peeking out through the glass, rambunctious and cheerful and innocent as could be.

He told her stories about what school for young children was like, how it compared to their experiences at the academy now. As always, he was a little all-over-the-place in his storytelling, skipping over the pieces that would have put together the puzzle, sometimes forgetting Gamora didn’t understand certain Terran customs she had never encountered before. He spoke of the subpar cafeteria food, saved only by pizza Fridays. He talked about how holidays were celebrated in school - turkey handprints for Thanksgiving, candy hearts for Valentine’s Day, and Secret Santa for Christmas. She could barely keep up with what he was saying, but she didn’t really care - Peter was so enthusiastic in sharing things with her, she didn’t have the heart to interrupt him.

However, her mind did start to wander a little once he began detailing the importance of the buddy system. She couldn’t help but think about why he had put together their little “tour” in the order that he did. The park clearly held nothing but happy (if a little shallow) memories for him. Today, it was Peter’s school and then later, the recreation center, places he had spent much of his formative years in that he had mixed feelings about, due to his unsavory interactions with other children, the bullies he’d encountered. Tomorrow, it was going to be the hospital, where all the kindhearted doctors and good nurses in the world would never fix what had happened the last time he was there.

And Monday? They would be visiting Meredith’s grave.

They sat on the curb of the school’s parking lot, eating granola bars that Peter had specially picked out at the grocery store, claiming they were his favorite lunchbox treat as a child. He sounded cheerful as ever, but Gamora could see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were becoming more born of worry than of laughter. Why has he insisted on slowly upsetting himself over the course of this trip? Gamora thought, her gaze settling over his face. As far as she knew, Peter took no pleasure in sadness. He avoided showing her sad movies, didn’t like listening to sad songs. He wasn’t numb to the feeling, of course, she had seen him tear up a handful of times, but what could he possibly have to gain out of doing it this way?

“Do I have something on my face? Wait, no, don’t answer. I bet I just look really good from this angle or something,” Peter chuckled, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked, slightly confused, before recovering quickly. “It’s better than my angle from yesterday. I don’t like having to look up your nose when I’m kissing you,” she retorted easily. He laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in a bit closer. “Is this making you happy, Peter? Being here?”

“Y’know, it’s weird being here, seeing these places that I haven’t been to in years, but...it’s not really hitting me yet. That this was once home.” He swallowed loudly. She leaned into his touch, though she turned away from him so he wouldn’t be nervous. “Home was a ship for so long, I forgot what it meant to be in one place. To live in one house. Go to one school. Have one favorite restaurant, have a neighbor that I see every morning, pickin’ up the newspaper while I’m runnin’ to catch the bus.” His eyes flickered towards his shoes, fixating on the dirty laces of his boots. “Have...have Saturday dinners with Grandpa. Hear stories about how my mom was just like me when she was a kid.”

“That must have been lovely,” Gamora said quietly.

“It...it was.” His voice broke, and he let out a watery chuckle, head bowed. “Hey, I...I think it just hit me.”

“I’m sorry.” She felt guilty, though she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t anticipated such a response from him. She had always admired Peter for his emotional openness, his willingness to display his feelings to others so easily. She was trying harder each day to be that way as well - she found that it saved her the trouble of trying to verbally communicate the things she internalized at times - but admittedly, she still wasn’t very good at it. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” He brought his other arm up around her, shuffling closer so he could press his face into her neck. “I’m just...I'm always gonna be a mess when it comes to my mom, I think. It’s just who I am.”

“That’s because she was clearly so instrumental in who you are. She was the most important person in your life. She still is.” She could feel him trembling against her, shamefaced, the shoulder of her jacket becoming damp with his half-shed tears. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about your love for her. You can be honest with me, Peter, that’s what we’re here for.”

“I know, and I’m not embarrassed, I just feel like...” He sighed, lifting his head slightly so she could see his red-rimmed eyes, the splotches on his nose and cheeks that weren’t a result of the cold. “You know how, that one time, you said you felt like your emotions were in someone else’s hands? That’s how I’m feeling right now. Like being here has opened up my brain to some other dimension or something dumb like that, and now it’s just flicking all the switches on and off in my head at random.”

“You’ve been quite, for lack of a better word, predictable. What makes you think you’re out of control?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Peter said carefully. “It’s like...I’ve been almost...too happy. Like I’m trying to gloss over what happened the last time I left this place - how I left this place - by pretending this was some great utopia. Like, I love this city and what it meant to me as a kid, but it’s like my brain also told me to forget that the first time I ever threw up was at Blanchette Park. Or that I got beat up in this parking lot trying to save a frog from being squished by a bunch of big kids. And I’m worried that the reverse is gonna happen when we go to the bad places, you know? That I’m gonna go to the hospital and only remember that one nurse that always bought me ice cream from the vending machine whenever my mom was doing chemo. Or...the cemetery, and remember when my mom and I walked by it one Halloween while she was telling me her favorite ghost story.”

Gamora was quiet for a moment, contemplative, her palms rubbing soothing circles over the knots in his shoulders, urging him to relax. “It’s not about compromising your memories, I don’t think,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s restorative balance to the universe, or in this case, the city you’ve built up in your mind. You want to remember it the way you remembered your mother. With joy, and with sorrow. Besides, your emotions don’t have to make sense all of the time.”

He sniffled, cracking a weak smile. “And you say you’re not good with words,” he teased, kissing the side of her head. “Hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think I wanna go to the rec center anymore. I kinda just...need to recharge. Go back to the hotel, get some work done, maybe. It was never really a necessary stop, more of a checkbox on a list than anything else.”

“Okay,” she replied, getting to her feet. “Then let’s go.”

The rest of their Saturday was spent quietly, with Gamora spending her afternoon in the hotel gym, while Peter worked diligently on his persuasive essay on superpower legislature in their room, typing with vigor on his holo-tab. By the time she returned, he was half-asleep on the couch, his fingers sliding across the keyboard lazily, no longer at work. “Hey,” he mumbled drowsily when she patted him urgently on the knee. “Wha’s going on?”

“Just making sure you’re alright,” she replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “I still feel a little bad about what happened earlier.”

“I promise, it wasn’t your fault.” He held her hand between his, solemn. “C’mon, Gamora, you know me. I cry when my favorite Top Chef contestant loses.”

Smiling beatifically, she sat across from him at the opposite end of the couch, swinging her feet up onto his lap, tangling their legs together. “Question. When was the last time I hurt you?”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean physically.” He scratched a little at his neck - Gamora’s fascination with leaving bites was definitely a turn-on, and he thought that her possessiveness of him was rather hot, but they did kind of sting in the process. “Probably way back to our last major fight, when you asked if the only reason I wanted to be friends was because I wanted to sleep with you. I couldn’t believe you still thought I was that kind of guy.”

“That was almost two months ago,” she exclaimed, astonished. “Have there really been no other occurrences since then?”

“I can’t tell you how much I hate that you still think you’re a ‘bad girlfriend’ just because you’ve never been one,” Peter said fiercely, leaning forward to rest his hands on her legs, rubbing her reassuringly. “Gamora, would a bad girlfriend be here with me? Would she be interested in my life, enjoy spending time with me, help me feel better when I’m down? If so, you’re the worst girlfriend I’ve ever seen.” She giggled softly, shaking her head, allowing him to pull her onto his chest, laying on her front. “Do you think I’m a bad boyfriend? Since I’ve never been one either?”

“Of course not,” she protested almost immediately. “I’m just overthinking it, okay? Let me feel guilty.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her midsection and pulling her in closer. “Fine, but only because we’re both stubborn as hell, and this conversation is gonna go nowhere, fast. But if you’re still thinking about this tomorrow, I’m gonna give you a stern talking-to. Or at least a pep talk. Yeah, that sounds better, doesn’t it?”

“Whatever excuse you need to continue talking,” she teased. ______

The next morning, Gamora woke to find Peter sprawled out on top of her, his hands warm against the bare skin of her belly, having pushed her tank top up to her collarbones to expose her entire upper body, his lips making their way along her jawline and down the column of her throat. “Is this part of the pep talk?”

“No, but it can be.” He smiled into her neck before leaning back so he could look at her. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better. But I should be asking you that.” She wrapped her arms around him, her thumbs kneading gently at the top of his shoulder blades. “We’re going to the hospital today, after all. But we’re not going inside.”

“No, we’re not.” He hesitated. “We’re gonna go out to the field in the back. Sit in the spot where I was taken.”

Her breath hitched. “Peter…”

“I know. I have mixed feelings about the Ravagers, too. But I gotta face it head-on, right? Confront my fears and all that motivational crap?” His eyes flickered away from hers, downcast. “I spent my years with them never wanting to return to Earth, let alone to the place where I watched my mom die. And yet, here we are, livin’ on Earth. So I’m done running and hiding. Like, what kind of leader would I be if I never faced my demons? I could never be an example to you guys if I did that.”

“You’ve taken great leaps in maturity since we’ve met, and we all appreciate that. But wanting to avoid reliving your worst memory is reasonable, Peter,” she said adamantly, sitting up a little, readjusting her top as her back came to rest against the headboard. “We expect you to walk across hot coals, not run into a blazing fire. But if this is something you need to do, then I’ll be by your side.”

He squeezed her hands tight, eyes suspiciously glossy, though wisely, Gamora decided not to push any further this time. “Breakfast, then,” he decided. “You’ve still got some muffins left, right?”

An hour later, the two of them were sitting cross-legged in the open field at the back of the hospital, Peter staring down its doors like he was expecting them to burst open. He was probably visualizing what he must have looked like all those years ago - all of eight years old, a scrappy, skinny little thing, sprinting outside with tears in his eyes, blurring away the image that had already been seared into his brain - his mother’s hand falling lax as he failed to take it one last time.

Gamora knew she had no need to be anxious, despite the waves of nervous energy Peter was emanating himself. Her line of sight was clear, there were civilians (or in her mind, witnesses) everywhere, and the skies showed no signs of impending doom. Still, she couldn’t help but think about what had happened the last time Peter was in this very spot. She was also a little disturbed he remembered it so precisely.

They were silent for several minutes, eating quietly, enjoying the gentle breeze that nipped at their ears and noses. Gamora shuffled a little closer into Peter’s side, as he’d been stubborn about not wearing a scarf and was now pink in the face. He often commented about how her higher body temperature made her feel like a furnace sometimes, how he’d wake up to find himself sweating from her heat. Gamora didn’t find it all that fair - she was the one who had to deal with his literal cold feet in the morning.

“There’s this...memory, that I have, and Yondu doesn’t like to talk about it, but it’s one of my favorites of him.” Peter’s gaze was still firmly fixed on the hospital, squinting occasionally as if he’d seen something despite the building’s frosted glass obscuring his view. He sounded far away, despite his fingers dancing absentmindedly on her arm. “It was my first birthday on the Eclector, my ninth birthday. I got real excited and told Yondu the night before - wanted to celebrate, somehow. He didn’t really get it, though - he never learned when his birthday was.”

“But...we’ve had birthday celebrations for Yondu before.”

“Wait, lemme finish. Yondu got all weird about it, and I kinda regretted telling him. I didn’t know it would make him upset! So I went to tell Kraglin instead, thought maybe I’d do something fun with him instead of rubbing it in Yondu’s face. But then the next day, my birthday, I woke up and found a little glass figurine next to my bed. It’s a dancer, with long spiky hair, thick arms and legs, some sort of alien race I’d never seen before. But what it really reminds me of was the Troll dolls that I carried around with me. And I knew for sure it was from Yondu, because he’s crazy about that kinda stuff. Then, when I went to breakfast, he stuck a lit match into my food because we didn’t have any candles. It was also the first time he sat down with me to listen to my Walkman. He told me that ‘Terran music ain’t that half-bad’.” He chuckled at the memory. “At the end of the day, he told me what I kinda already knew - that he didn’t really have a birthday since he was sold into slavery as a baby, and once Stakar saved him, they never bothered ‘picking’ one for him. I had a couple old newspapers in my backpack, the one I had on when they took me, so we stayed up all night, using those newspapers to look at horoscopes and figure out a birthday for him instead.”

“That’s so sweet,” she murmured, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You should know that...your stories always remind me of why I’m so fond of you. I wasn’t charmed by your confidence or your charisma, though I’ll admit it works on me now. It was your kindness.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, turning slightly to look at his face, smiling at the warmth in his eyes, that twinkle that he always only ever reserved for her. “During your debate a couple weeks ago, though, there was one thing you said that rather bothered me. You said you prioritized being happy, but never thought about the importance of being good. I find that doesn’t really align with your personality at all. Am I wrong?”

“It was hard to think of myself as a moral person in my thievin’ days,” he countered. “What would you call a guy who lies, cheats, and steals for his own gain? Because I wouldn’t call it ‘good’.”

“In the grand scheme of things, I would certainly think of you as the lesser of many evils. No one is ever truly good or truly bad. Except, perhaps, our respective fathers.”

“Our dads are far beyond ‘truly’ bad. If anything, that’s a damn generous description for both of ‘em,” Peter said through clenched teeth. She could feel his shoulder shifting beneath her head, tensing.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, of all people, but you should really stop thinking so much,” she said. “This weekend is in honor of your mother. Don’t tarnish her memory by thinking about your father’s ill will.” When he didn’t respond, she frowned, increasingly worried. Peter really did have a knack for talking himself into emotional despair, didn’t he? “Why don’t you tell me about the things you took with you when you were visiting her in the hospital? The newspapers, for example,” she suggested.

He cleared his throat harshly, causing her to sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, um. Newspapers from the house. The hospital gave her the morning paper every day, but I thought that it would be more personal if it was the subscription we got at home. It’s not like I wanted anything but the comics section, anyways. The picnic blanket we used to watch the stars - the one we used on our ‘six-month’ anniversary date? And uh, books she read to me as a kid, VHS tapes of her favorite movies. I would’ve taken a lot more on the day that she...that I...well. If I’d known.”

“Like what?”

“My mom did ballet when she was a kid, and she kept her first pair of shoes in this little box in her closet,” Peter nodded. His voice was slowly getting stronger now. “She had a lot of recipe books, but she liked to experiment with ‘em, so she handwrote her changes on index cards, those were in that box, too. She also...she also liked fixing her own car, loved being able to tell off the jerks at the auto shop for thinkin’ she couldn’t do it herself because she was a woman. She said she’d teach me someday, even bought me my own screwdriver that I...that I never got to use. She also wrote notes on post-its and stuck ‘em around the house for when I was having a bad day, or if I was stuck at home, sick. Just little things like, ‘I love you’, or ‘have fun at school today’, or ‘don’t forget to smile’. Cheesy stuff, I know.”

“I love hearing about your mother.” Peter finally turned to look at her again, giving her a tiny, but grateful smile. “Aside from my jokes about you never shutting up, I’m always curious to know more about the woman who made you who you are today. Your stories about her are endearingly sweet.”

“Good, because I like telling ‘em.” He began pulling at the grass, twisting the blades between his large fingers absentmindedly. She couldn’t bear to chastise him for doing so. “It’s weird, huh? This one spot in this entire field. Looks like any ol’ patch of grass, and yet. Changed my whole life.”

“Do you wish otherwise?”

“No,” he said almost immediately. It was the most confident he had sounded the entire conversation. “If my dad had just been a typical deadbeat dad, I would’ve never gotten picked up by the Ravagers. I’d be livin’ with my grandpa. And don’t get me wrong, I...loved him, but I think I’d be so different if I stayed here. Quieter. Shyer. I wouldn’t be confident, I wouldn’t be excited about life, I wouldn’t be...happy. I’d probably just hide out in my room, spending the rest of my life wonderin’ what could’ve been.” He smiled ruefully. “In a way, it’s like the Ravagers made me get over feeling sorry for myself. Like, I still thought of my mom every single day I was with ‘em, I just...they gave me purpose. Not the greatest purpose, but something to do. Something outside of sittin’ around and crying. So, yeah. Mixed feelings about the Ravagers, but at the same time, kinda grateful. Also gave me Yondu, and Kraglin, and eventually, all of you guys. So, no, I don’t wish it happened any other way.”

As always, Gamora felt as if she had a million more questions. It was strange, wanting to know so much more about another person. She had never wanted to look so deeply into another’s soul before, never wanted to know every last detail about their existence in tandem with her own. Then again, she never shared her life with someone before becoming a Guardian, never intertwined herself with another before becoming Peter’s best friend, and subsequently, his partner in more ways than one. And of course, she knew Peter had secrets he would never tell, things he didn’t want her to know about, and she respected that. But it was foreign to her, understanding someone so thoroughly and still knowing there were surprises to uncover. It was also a comfort, knowing she had found constancy in her life after years of a different kind of unknown.

Still, she could sense it was time to stop. Even Peter had his limits when it came to exploring his emotions, and there was a reservation to him, an impending sense of doom and gloom in his posture, that told her he wanted to spend the rest of their time at the hospital in silence. Gamora could only hope she was being the support he needed, that he wasn’t regretting taking her instead of Mantis. Much of their relationship had been improvisation on her part - a push-and-pull, a give-and-take, of what they wanted and what they needed, and where they could meet in the middle. Then again, she suspected Peter was very much doing the same. However, when it came to them, it seemed that instinct was winning over inexperience, considering how well they understood each other already.

They spent the next several hours walking around town, ducking into little shops and boutiques every now and then, finding trinkets to bring home to the Guardians, especially Yondu, Mantis, and Groot, who adored any little knick-knack they could get their hands on. Peter walked a little lighter, held his chin a little higher, and was more openly affectionate the way he usually was, kissing the top of her head while they were waiting in line, or insisting they take at least one selfie by the town’s welcome sign.

When they returned to their hotel room by late afternoon, they fell into their little routine again - Peter secretly thrilled at the thought of him and Gamora having a ‘routine’ of any sort in comparison to the utter chaos of living on the Milano with the team - where Peter began making dinner, while Gamora went to shower.

After she emerged from the bathroom, he could hear her footsteps approaching, though he knew she would scold him if he looked away from the bubbling pot of pasta. To his surprise, he felt her strong arms wrap around his waist, squeezing him briefly, before patting him on the stomach and stepping away. “Hey,” he said without looking at her, though as he moved across the counter to grab the strainer, he heard the sound of paper crinkling below him.

Glancing down, he realized Gamora had left a sticky note on his shirt.

He moved the pot off its element and switched off the stove before peeling the piece of paper off, his heart pounding elatedly. He held it up to his face, and there, in Gamora’s neat handwriting: thank you for sharing your life with me. He quickly blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes before turning towards the living room. Gamora was lounging on the couch with her back to him, wearing yet another one of Peter’s sweaters (had she packed any tops of her own?), braiding her still-damp hair as if she hadn’t just done one of the sweetest things he’d ever had the fortune to receive.

“I’d like to reiterate that you’re the best girlfriend ever and I really wanna kiss you right now,” he informed her.

“Finish making dinner and I’ll consider it,” she replied without looking up, though she was smiling as she said it. ______

Unlike the previous morning, in which Peter had been entirely on top of her, this time Gamora woke to find him wrapped around her side, fingers digging into her hips, her face half-smushed into the pillows from the sheer weight of his body pressing against hers. At first, she suspected he wanted something - her, to be specific - but there was nothing suggestive about his body language. In fact, he seemed almost a little too clingy. “Peter?” she whispered.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Her heart broke a little. He sounded like a small child, lost, forgotten, left behind. She slowly turned over so she could look at him. “Peter...you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Came all this way to turn back around? That’d be pretty cowardly of me,” he mumbled, angling his face away from her, petulant.

“It’s not cowardice. If you’ve taught me anything in our time together, it’s that choosing to prioritize your heart over your head isn’t inherently a bad thing.” In a reversal of their usual roles, she found herself running her fingers through his hair, slowly twisting his curls between her pointer finger and thumb. “Take it from someone who has thought many times over about looking into records of her long-dead parents, only to turn away out of fear of what she might find.”

That seemed to startle him. “Really? You’ve almost tried?”

“Yes. And maybe someday I’ll be ready. But right now, I’m not. And I’ll admit to that. I’m quite happy right where I am. Maybe that’s you too.” She removed one hand from his scalp, resting it over his heart. “No one will think less of you, Peter. So what do you want to do?”

He fell silent for a few long minutes, contemplating. He began sliding his hands over her body, along the bare skin of her waist, soft, open, though there was nothing sexual about his touch. Rather, it was a steady reminder that she was there, keeping him afloat as she so often did. He knew she was constantly worried about how helpful she was being, how she managed to think herself in circles until she was convinced she was more of a hindrance than anything else. They both had that in common - that ability to bring themselves down with one simple thought spiral. But in all honesty, she had been nothing less than perfect.

His mind then wandered to his mother. Oh, how badly he wanted to see her again. Hear her voice, feel her arms around him, her hand ruffling his hair. Sit with her at the dining table and talk about school, lay down side-by-side in the truck bed with the Walkman between them. For all his talk of her, it was then that he realized he never got to say goodbye, not really. And that’s what this was all about in the end, wasn’t it?

Peter gave Gamora a simple, half-hearted smile. “I want to try.”

“Then let’s try.”

After a slow, mostly silent breakfast, the two of them bundled up and made their way to the cemetery. The atmosphere in the car was somber, unusually tense after the light-hearted nature of their first day. Neither of them were in good spirits, though understandably so. Peter usually liked to combat the mood with a joke or two, but now was not the time. “There’s a lot of cemeteries here,” he said quietly. “But I had a feeling this would be the right one.”

As the car pulled up the drive into the parking lot, Gamora caught a glimpse out the window of the small plaque mounted on the front entrance - St. Peter Catholic Church Cemetery. Yes, she knew exactly what Peter had meant.

The paper wrappings of the flowers that Peter had purchased rustled loudly as they started crossing the lawn - his hands were trembling. Considering he was known as one of the best gunslingers on campus, perhaps one of the very best in the galaxy, it was unnerving to see them so unsteady. Gamora reached to take one of his hands, intertwining their fingers together, shooting him an encouraging smile before they continued in silence, eyes traveling across the ground as they searched. It was another six minutes before they found the name they were looking for.

Meredith Elizabeth Quill - Mother, Daughter, Friend, & Dreamer - 1957 - 1988

“She was too young,” Peter whispered, as if she could hear him, moving to set the flowers at her gravestone. His heart sank a little at seeing there were no other offerings around - had all his family gone, left town or worse, died too early? He knelt on the ground, motioning for Gamora to join him. Somewhat clumsily, she settled down beside him, watching as he pulled the Walkman from his belt and set it down in the space between their knees.

After a full minute of uncomfortable silence, he seemed ready to speak again. “Uh, hey, Mom. I don’t know how to do this, exactly? I feel kinda stupid talking out loud, but I’ve seen people do it on TV all the time, so, uh, here goes. I’ve been back on Earth for two years now, but I haven’t come to see you until now because...I wasn’t ready. Actually, I don’t really feel ready now, either. But I wanted to be brave. For you.” He swallowed. “I think about you all the time. I talk about you a lot, too. I’ve always been a mama’s boy, hey? And I...I met Dad. Um. I might’ve killed him, too.” He let out a watery laugh. Gamora looked around warily to ensure no one was nearby to listen in on Peter’s confession. “I don’t know what you saw in him, Mom. He was a real piece of work. The biggest asshole in the entire damn galaxy, even. He saw people as pawns, treated ‘em like dirt. He talked about how disappointed he was in what he found, and I just...I don’t get that. How do you look at other people, and not want to...to know them, to understand them, to love them? Because that’s all I ever want. You deserved better than him. You deserved the whole world, but...you were taken too soon. Because of him. It’s really...so freaking messed up that he killed you because he loved you. Or at least, he thought he loved you. It doesn’t make any sense to me. How someone could do something so cruel to someone they loved. None of what he said or did made any sense at all.”

“Peter.” Gamora clutched at his arm anxiously, desperate to get him back on topic.

“Right, I didn’t come here to talk about him. I’m so freaking done thinkin’ about him. Um, maybe I can tell you what I’ve been up to. I, uh, got kidnapped by these space pirates called the Ravagers. They were s’posed to take me to Ego, but another kid, Yondu, convinced their leader to keep me instead. Spent my whole adolescence with them, basically. Then I wanted to cut and run. Start a new life over, by myself. Be independent, you know? The way that you were. You never needed anyone, Mom, but you were always there for everyone else. And I wanted to be like that. Anyways...it didn’t exactly go as planned. I ended up running into more trouble, because you know that’s how it always goes for me. There was this girl - kinda scary, super powerful, intimidated the crap outta me - who I was trying to work with. But there was a misunderstanding, and then she tried to kill me, but then we got arrested, and one thing led to another - and now, she’s my best friend. And my co-leader. And my girlfriend. Also, she’s right here.” Gamora couldn’t help but laugh a little at the oversimplification of their first meeting. “We haven’t been together long, and we fight - a lot - but she means so much to me. And I’m so freaking grateful to have her in my life. I don’t think I’d be the same person with her.”

“We run this team called the Guardians of the Galaxy. I know, it sounds super over-the-top, but I think it rolls off the tongue, don’t you? We’ve got Gamora’s sister, Nebula, who still scares me shitless, but I dunno, she’s growing on me. And I have a sister, too, Mantis. Long story short, Dad raised her alone on his planet, so yeah, she’s my sister. She can read emotions and she’s super bubbly and friendly and sweet, you’d love her. There’s Drax, this big guy who seems kinda fight-crazy at first, but he’s cool, and he’s got a heart as big as his giant freaking muscles. Rocket, who, I’m not even joking, is a raccoon - well, a bioengineered creature that looks like a raccoon - who really loves weapons. He’s kind of a jerk, but he’s a lot of fun, too. Groot’s a talking tree - well, technically, he’s like a foot tall right now, and Gamora and I are basically his parents, but when he’s older - was older? It’s hard to explain - he’s like, twelve feet tall. Oh, and I can’t forget Yondu, he’s with us too. He’s like a brother, although sometimes he tries to ‘dad’ me. It’s weird, but I'm cool with it.”

Peter began to laugh again, more joyously this time. “I can almost hear your voice, Mom. You’re probably like, ‘what did you get yourself into, baby?’. And you’re right. I sound absolutely insane saying all that stuff out loud. I have a bug-like alien empath for a sister, a baby tree for a kid, and my girlfriend’s the deadliest woman in the galaxy. And we fight to save the lives of everyone we can, while we still go to school. Oh, I didn’t mention that. We go to this superhero school on Earth. It’s got a bunch of kids like us, with powers and abilities and stuff. We have classes on like, combat and espionage, along with normal things like math and history. It’s the strangest thing ever, but I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“There’s all this music I’ve been listening to lately. Not new stuff, but stuff I dunno if you’ve ever heard. Or maybe you did and didn’t like it,” he chuckled. “Either way, I’ve been making mixtapes of my own. I still haven't really listened to anything past the nineties, but I’ve been trying to find songs that remind me of the people in my life. I haven’t finished all of them yet, but I’ve gotten a pretty good start on Gamora’s. I think I’ll always be adding songs to hers. It’s cheesy, but it’s like...all the love songs became clearer to me once I realized I loved her.” Gamora ducked her head into his shoulder, shy. “Some of them make me think of you as well, Mom. Maybe not every word, but just, the message of love. The feeling of love. Because you never made me doubt how much you loved me. And I think that’s why I sometimes feel like I have a lot to give. Unlike Dad, I like being with people. I like helping people. Because of you.”

He bent to press play on the Walkman before shifting his legs out from underneath him, sprawling them out forwards, leaning back onto his hands. Gamora readjusted herself as well so she was sitting cross-legged, hands clasped neatly in her lap. The early morning clouds were beginning to part, the sun peeking through in small beams of light, bathing the entire cemetery in a warm, hazy glow. It glistened off the dewdrops that had settled on the grass from the overnight rain, illuminating the ground beneath them.

The first time ever I saw your face...I thought the sun rose in your eyes...and the moon and the stars...were the gifts you gave…to the dark and the endless skies…

Gamora briefly glanced around, hoping that they were still alone and would continue to go undisturbed, before turning back towards Peter. His eyes were slightly glazed over, though out of introspection instead of sadness this time, fixated on the inscription of Meredith’s gravestone. “How are you feeling?”

“Peaceful, actually,” he replied, rolling onto his side slightly so he could watch her. “I’m glad I did this.”

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth...I felt the earth move in my hands...

“That’s good to hear,” she nodded. ‘I’ve been...worried about you. Ever since you said you wanted to do this...I didn’t know if I could be there the way you needed me to be.”

“Well, I think this trip has proven a few things to me,” Peter said thoughtfully. “Seeing all these places...I don’t think of this town as home anymore. The only time I’m home is when I’m with people I love. And, you know, my mom might be physically here, but she’s really here.” He patted the Walkman, his fingers lingering on the lettering. “I don’t feel attached to this place the way I thought I would be. I was emotional over what happened here, not where it happened, y’know? So, maybe I’ll come back here again someday with you and everyone else, show ‘em where I came from, but it’s just...buildings to me.”

“Your sentiment has always been in people...things. Never places,” she commented, nodding in agreeance. “You said ‘a few things’. What else?”

“I also realized how solid we are.” He cracked a grin. “I mean, who knew, right? Looks like everyone really was onto something when they wanted us to be together. I can honestly say that this past month has been really amazing because of you. Like being a part of this. I...thank you, so much, for coming here with me, Gamora. It was a lot to ask of you, but I know I can always be myself around you, and I...I needed that. Especially now.”

She crawled a little closer, allowing Peter to envelop her in his arms, burying his face into her neck. Once again, she could feel the dampness on her shoulders, the tremble of his body, and all she could do was hold on. But she knew this time, it was out of happiness, and not sorrow. He was, for the most part, done crying for his mother. As he said, he was at peace.

They sat, loosely embraced, for another ten minutes, before Peter finally pulled away. “Okay,” he said, exhaling. He paused the music and slipped the Walkman back onto his belt, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his coat. “I’m ready to go. Let’s head back to the hotel, start packing.”

“Wait.” Gamora grabbed his arm before Peter could stand up. “Hold out your hand.” Confused, he did as he was told, only to find that she had placed a pad of sticky notes and a pen in his palm.

He smiled at her, awed. Sniffling, he began to write. Another few minutes passed before he was satisfied, sticking the note onto the flowers he’d brought, before he got to his feet, pulling Gamora up beside him. “Bye, Mom,” he said softly. “I’ll come back with the rest of the team someday. We’ll tell you the stories about our crazy adventures then. I don’t think I could do it justice by myself. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, the two of them strolled away, arm-in-arm, ready to return to their reality - an uncontrollable team, a slew of homework and tests, and the strong likelihood of another life-threatening mission or job waiting for them. But for now, Peter had found his peace. He had said his goodbyes.

I felt your heart so close to mine...and I knew our joy...would fill the earth...and last till the end of time…

- Roberta Flack, 1969

(but also Peter Quill, your little Star-Lord)

a/n: i used to read over the epilogue of the main fic and think, "wow, this is peak sappiness". never mind, it has now been beaten by this one-shot instead.

the song they were listening to at meredith's grave is the first time ever i saw your face by roberta flack, which is a song peter has on his "for gamora" mixtape and one of my personal favorite love songs. also, i know i'm certainly not the first person to write a "peter and gamora visit meredith's grave" fic, but i wanted to do one in this universe, since i believe most others are set post-infinity war.

thank you so much for reading! likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. as always, I hope you're enjoying this series as much as I'm enjoying writing it :)

#starmora #peter quill #gamora #meredith quill #guardians of the galaxy #myfic #myfic: 20q #i have a lot of meredith headcanons #also peter cries a lot in this one sorry

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titconao3 · 7 years

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Hello, you have been identified as An Awesome Fic Writer™. Congrats, you rock! So that all of your readers can shower you with some extra love today, please tell us your favourite five stories of yours and why you like them and then send this to another five fic authors you think deserve this title!

wow, er, wow! well. hem. first, thank you; and now for the flailing - i really suck at choosing, so… it’s going to be hard. i can be very critical of my stuff, and when a story of mine is jossed because canon moved on i want to throw it all away - if i don’t it’s only because 1/ i try to tell myself it would be cowardly (but what i actually do is think very hard about other stuff) and 2/ i can enjoy jossed stories as a reader, although not always and 3/ i remember as a reader being so often disappointed i couldn’t find a story someone had mentioned… i don’t know if mine are *ever* mentioned, but who knows! anyway, this is why it’s taking me so long to answer this… and also most people i could think of tagging have already been, so… oops. sorry again.this is probably Lucifer-related, so i’ll just sweep the one Good Omens story and the very, very old (& old skool) Kirk/Spock ones under the carpet, mmmkay ;-) and while I’m at it, my older Lucifer stories? canon has made them irrelevant or at least feel wrong to me.as a reader, i enjoy longer fics with plot, but i usually write Deckerstar-ish, short-to-medium-length fics even if the relationship is not necessarily the focus of the story but just a consequence, a side dish or even only a background thing.i like and hate my fics all equally at the same time, so i really don’t know what to say, but i’ll try. it just feels like i’m always writing the same stuff, more or less… so i don’t know which ones to pick, especially since i’m never able to make up my mind for anything as a rule and saying anything positive about myself feels like shameless self-aggrandizing behaviour.

so let’s see… maybe sand castles and building blocks, because it’s the first de-aged Lucifer I remember in the fandom and kid!Lucifer was fun to write?well i also like whumping him, and while finding the balance between believable & story-justified whump and comfort while not steering too far from RL plausibility can be hard, i did like sending him to a hospital. I’m uncomfortable physically hurting Chloe because she’s already ended several times in hospital in two short seasons and she’s more breakable than him, so... he’s my fave woobie, i guess.

i often get comments about how sad readers were / how much they cried because some people seem to think my stories are often sad - i insist they aren’t and that there’s always a happy ending, even if it’s set in the afterlife ;-) but i tend to like fics that tackle those big issues - death, aging, and what happens when people of different natures are friends or lovers, when you see them die and when they don’t age. And also, the general suckiness of life.but, otoh, i don’t see death as necessarily a sad ending; not in a fandom where the afterlife is canon and - more than that - where if you go the Lucifer/Chloe route you have to find a way that does not lead to everlasting sadness when one goes to heaven and the other... can’t. and Chloe choosing hell or eternity on earth, meaning she’s apart from those she loves? Lucifer becoming human is a thing that gives me the creeps too, so... nope, not for me ;-) so i try to find ways for the gang to have a happier ending that “everybody died, Lucifer angsted over his piano for the rest of eternity, the end.”

so anyway, because of those SAAAD comments, i tried to fluff too but apparently even when i fluff as hard as i can it’s not pure fluff. oops? so, er, maybe the valentine story or the Lucifer baby-sits Trixie one? i don’t know. the ending of the first blind-sided everyone including me, and the second felt terribly tooth-decaying, but i think it was the first time i purposefully set out to write properly fl00ffy fluff and it was part of the month of fluff i did last December to try and make myself, well, stop making the readers who wandered on to my stories leave “i am SAD” comments - it was not 100% successful but i did try my hand at fluff and humour that month (okay, i giggled while writing Nyarlathot’elf but really i didn’t know about these eldritch horrors and they are now one more reason for me to fear and dislike that season… so thank you for that, @benfael ;-)

i should add ora pro nobis because i almost managed to insert an actual investigation plot (well, the closest i’ve ever come to at least) in there, among the religious nods and the usual feels… i was happy to manage to write a few longer (for me) fics lately, especially this summer. i didn’t think i could do several.

i committed some not Deckerstar-centric fics too, and i’ve really liked trying to delve into other characters’ heads. It feels strange at first, less familiar than my usual version of Lucifer and Chloe - am i doing Amenadiel justice, does Ella sound like Ella, what about Maze’s voice, is Linda the right mix of insightful and fun with hidden depths, is Dan sufficiently Dan-ish? (yes, sorry, i love bad puns) so while i’m not necessarily happy with them, and while they can be a challenge, i’m glad at least i tried?

i usually try to give screen (page?) time to all the characters as in the show, to give them quirks and things to do and say. I tried to do that with Candy before 2x14 aired, so of course now it’s totally jossed but it was nice to try and imagine a Candy and her motivations. i also sometimes have fun with recurring OCs like Ebony or Jesus (under several aliases), Jesus’ mum, and even Candy herself (gave her a son once because why not). but i also worry i’m overdoing it, going too far from canon, into topics no one cares about, or that i go overboard, or not enough, when trying to be more inclusive. how much is too much? how little is not enough?

right, so i totally didn’t do what i was asked to do, imma post this and forget about it now, sorry about this pointless logorrhea...

#Anonymous #about me #writing

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encephalonfatigue · 4 years

Text

radical eschatology and 1Q84

i wrote this as a goodreads review, but i couldn’t fit the whole text there so this is the review in its entirety.

“‘lunatic’ means to have your sanity temporarily seized by the luna, which is ‘moon’ in Latin. In nineteenth-century England, if you were a certified lunatic and you committed a crime, the severity of the crime would be reduced a notch. The idea was that the crime was not so much the responsibility of the person himself as that he was led astray by the moonlight. Believe it or not, laws like that actually existed… I learned it in an English literature course at Japan Women’s University, in a lecture on Dickens. We had an odd professor. He’d never talk about the story itself but go off on all sorts of tangents.”

I think a lot of my writing on this site consists of meandering tangents, only obliquely related to the book at hand — though less useful and interesting than this literature professor’s in 1Q84. Either way I will stick to what I’m comfortable with here. I will start with why I read this obscenely large book. My high school friend who was recently married, hosted a birthday party at a new place he moved into in Etobicoke. I arrived half-an-hour late from the time it was supposed to start (according to Facebook), and was the first one there — which is some indication of the sort of company I keep. As I awkwardly sat around after a brief house tour, he poured me a drink, and we chatted about life and my terrible job. He suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I almost forgot. There’s something I want to lend to you.” He skips up the stairs and comes back down with a large phone book. On its front cover: a face hiding behind the characters “1Q84” — maybe embarrassed by its bloated constitution. This will help you on your daily commutes from hell, he encouraged me.

I’ve heard that your first Murakami book has a good chance of becoming your favourite Murakami book. That was probably the case for me with “Kafka on the Shore”. I think that book put me onto Kafka, before I would later encounter him in the work of Walter Benjamin, Judith Butler, and his late communist ‘wife’, Dora Diamant. But subsequent Murakami books were not as satisfying for me. After reading Norwegian Wood, I decided to try and take a break from Murakami. I had grown a little weary of the Oedipal themes, and Murakami’s recurring Manic Pixie Dream Girl tropes. Around this time, my fourth-year college roommate discovered Murakami for himself, and his first encounter was through 1Q84. He loved it, but what a book to start with, I had thought at the time. I was impressed that he ploughed right through such an enormous millstone of a novel. (I was very intimidated by its size when my friend handed it to me, but got through it in surprising time. Having now read 1Q84, I realize it was actually a very fun book to read, and often quite difficult to put down, so it now makes sense.) Anyways, I was discussing these things with my roommate and another law student who was camping with us at Sandbanks Provincial Park — she also shared similar thoughts as mine on Murakami. Conversation wandered on to Junot Diaz, who she was much more approving of — this of course was before the #MeToo revelations about Diaz. How quickly tides can turn. (Especially when there are two moons in the sky.)

So something about the structure of 1Q84. I am told the first two books are structured after the two books of Bach’s “Well-Tempered Clavier” — each chapter alternating between Aomame (major keys) and Tengo (minor keys). In each book of Clavier, Bach cycles through all twelve tones, a prelude and fugue for each tone’s major and minor keys. So each of Murakami’s chapters in Book 1 and 2 corresponds to a Prelude and Fugue in Bach’s collection of pieces — 48 chapters in all.

I admittedly have a thing for Bach. I have a copy of Gould’s “Well-Tempered Clavier” on compact disc at home. It came in a package of random shit the novelist Tao Lin gathered together from his bedroom and sold online for like $30 on eBay. That is the sort of stupid stuff I wasted my money on as an undergraduate student. Among the zines, postcard sized art prints, manuscript pages from his edits of Taipei, and a copy of “Shoplifting from American Apparel” was a disc of Gould’s “Well-Tempered Clavier”. In one of the preludes and fugues, the disc is scratched, and makes these heavenly wobbling sounds as it skips, and I have grown quite fond of these parts. I also particularly love hearing the infrequent muffled hums of Gould behind his gas mask.

Book 3 of 1Q84 is structured after Bach’s Goldberg Variations. In the past couple years, I’ve listened to this composition likely more than any other, simply because it’s one of the few albums I happened to have downloaded on my phone. It’s Igor Levit’s studio recording of the Goldberg Variations along with his recording of Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations and Rzewski’s “The People United Will Never Be Defeated”. I thought it was a clever trio to package in an album. I also recommend Lisa Moore’s performance of other Rzewski compositions put out by Cantaloupe.

I am particularly fond of Rzewski’s “People United” because it recalls for me my first May Day march, where I chanted the Chilean song (from which Rzewski’s title is derived and his piece alludes to) with other people on the street marching on the way to Queen’s Park, while students shouted ‘ftp’ at officers lined on the sidewalk. I was supposed to march with a small contingent from Student Christian Movement, but couldn’t find them at Allan Gardens, so I marched near some York OPIRG students, and in front of a communist who was debating random people the entire march, haha. I had never seen so many anarchists and communists in one place at a time. They sure do like their black and red flags, haha.

This brings me to the next comment I wanted to make. I was curious about Murakami’s politics and I had a difficult time finding a decent write-up that focuses on this, because Murakami can come across as fairly apolitical, which I think is what his ‘bourgeois individualism’ (I use that term in jest) requires of him. Anyways, I stumbled across a series of blog posts made by a Trotskyist grad student that discuss how Japanese student movement comes up in almost every single novel by Murakami, and he discusses how the student movement was a significant segment of the political left in Japan during that time.

“Some brief highlights of the student movement’s history in Japan will suffice. After the end of the war, university students oriented to the Japanese Communist Party (JCP) took advantage of the new liberal atmosphere to rally for university autonomy, for the appointment of progressive faculty and administrators, and for a student voice in administration… In 1948, students from all over Japan inaugurated the All-Japan Federation of Student Self-Government Organizations (known by its acronym, Zengakuren) with a leadership largely from the Japanese Young Communist League… However the honeymoon between the students and the JCP was short-lived… The JCP had seen the American occupation as an opportunity to complete the bourgeois-democratic revolution in Japan, which had been the Moscow-ordained task of Communist Parties the world over during the Popular Front (1936-39) and then again after the German invasion of the Soviet Union, when Communists were allied with all “liberal,” “democratic,” and “peace-loving” forces, meaning those of the ruling class.

…Student radicalism reached even greater heights as the movement entered the 1960s… In militant actions organized by Zengakuren, thousands of students broke into the Diet building twice in 1960, forcing the cancellation of a state visit by US President Eisenhower and the resignation of Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi with his cabinet. During this period Zengakuren’s leadership was largely drawn from the “Mainstream Faction,” which had originated the federation’s opposition to the JCP, however during the late 50s the leadership was briefly taken over by students from the Revolutionary Communist League (RCL), a group formed from JCP exiles after the 1956 Soviet invasion of Hungary, which was influenced by Trotsky’s writings and would affiliate to the Fourth International. By 1964, there were three different organizations taking the name Zengakuren: the JCP supporters, the Revolutionary Marxists (a Tokyo-based split from the RCL) and a unity faction.”

There’s a lot more the Trotskyist grad student blogger (the official title I have designated to this person) goes into, but he essentially concludes that:

“I believe at this point that I have made a solid case for why Murakami, whose early books on the surface are completely apolitical, take their starting point as the destruction of the Japanese student movement, though at no point is the movement itself exactly foregrounded.”

An an earlier conclusion in his first post:

“Based on conjecture from his novels, we can assume he was around the anti-Stalinist left concentrated in the Zenkyoto groups, though he has insisted that he was never a member of any particular faction. “I enjoyed the campus riots as an individual,” he writes. “I’d throw rocks and fight with the cops, but I thought there was something ‘impure’ about erecting barricades and other organized activity, so I didn’t participate… The very thought of holding hands in a demonstration gave me the creeps.”

…Since this is all I have till I learn Japanese, I will have to take his word that he always had a rather superior, hipster attitude toward politics, which is believable enough considering his status as a graduate of one of Japan’s most elite private institutions. And yet, there is something I see in his early novels that undeniably regrets the collapse of the student movement, no matter how much he resented the factions for “impure” organizational work.”

I think Murakami’s disdain for this sort of leftist hypocrisy comes through in a particularly memorable dialogue in Norwegian Wood (which the Trotskyist grad student blogger never mentioned for some reason):

"Have you ever read Das Kapital?"

"Yeah. Not the whole thing, of course, but parts, like most people."

"You know, when I went to university I joined a folk-music club. I just wanted to sing songs. But the members were a load of frauds. I get goose-bumps just thinking about them. The first thing they tell you when you enter the club is you have to read Marx. "Read page so-and-so to such-and-such for next time.' Somebody gave a lecture on how folk songs have to be deeply involved with society and the radical movement. So, what the hell, I went home and tried as hard as I could to read it, but I didn't understand a thing. It was worse than the subjunctive. I gave up after three pages. So I went to the next week's meeting like a good little scout and said I had read it, but I couldn't understand it. From that point on they treated me like an idiot. I had no critical awareness of the class struggle, they said, I was a social cripple. I mean, this was serious. And all because I said I couldn't understand a piece of writing..."

“...And their so-called discussions were terrible, too. Everybody would use big words and pretend they knew what was going on. But I would ask questions whenever I didn't understand something. "What is this imperialist exploitation stuff you're talking about? Is it connected somehow to the East India Company?' "Does smashing the educational-industrial complex mean we're not supposed to work for a company after we graduate?' And stuff like that. But nobody was willing to explain anything to me. Far from it - they got really angry. Can you believe it?"

“...OK, so I'm not so smart. I'm working class. But it's the working class that keeps the world running, and it's the working classes that get exploited. What kind of revolution is it that just throws out big words that working-class people can't understand? What kind of crap social revolution is that? I mean, I'd like to make the world a better place, too. If somebody's really being exploited, we've got to put a stop to it. That's what I believe, and that's why I ask questions.”

"So that's when it hit me. These guys are fakes. All they've got on their minds is impressing the new girls with the big words they're so proud of, while sticking their hands up their skirts. And when they graduate, they cut their hair short and march off to work for Mitsubishi or IBM or Fuji Bank. They marry pretty wives who've never read Marx and have kids they give fancy new names to that are enough to make you puke. Smash what educational-industrial complex? Don't make me laugh!”

This passage actually reminds me of a Japanese exchange student I met as an undergraduate who was really into Murakami and used to perform folk music in her spare time. Even though she was an atheist or agnostic of some sort and really into gender studies, she used to attend an international students bible study that I used to go to at a friends’ house. She’s now doing a PhD at MIT in neuroscience, but that passage in Norwegian Wood always reminds me of her. Anyways, you can see how Murakami’s purity politics requires of him a rejection of fully embracing any comprehensive political or religious system. The individual is always of most importance to him, and I think that comes through in 1Q84 too.

Part of what gets to Murakami I suppose is the pretence involve with a lot of armchair leftists. It recalls for me a passage I read in a book about country music of all things called “The Nashville Sound” by Joli Jensen:

“Students rarely ventured into the Rose Bowl. When they did it was usually to be rowdy and to make fun of the rednecks. One night, as I was waiting tables, four fellow graduate students came in. They did not see me, and I watched in rising fury as they sneered and whispered and laughed among themselves at the people around them. These were my peers, who defined themselves as Marxists and had disdained me as a politically unsophisticated liberal humanist. They patronized me in class and were now in "my" world making fun of "my" friends. Shaking with rage, I went over to the table to take their drink order. Of course, they were stunned to find me working there, complete with sequined Rose Bowl vest, and they left immediately. I had caught them at an unseemly game. But I have come to wonder about the basis for my rage and about what it tells me about how we understand ourselves in relation to our perceptions of others.

At the time I felt superior to them, friends of the working class, indeed! and virtuous in my admiration of, and affection for, Rose Bowl patrons. Later, I began to wonder, was I really any better, turning the Rose Bowl into a mythical venue of "salt of the earth" authenticity? Is it really better to idealize and sentimentalize difference than to ridicule and disdain it? This is a poignant dilemma for the country music scholar and is becoming a topic of discussion among sociologists, anthropologists, museum curators, and social critics.”

Anyways, to move past this thoughtful navel-gazing, I want to get into a dimension of 1Q84 that I found extremely interesting. Probably my favourite part is Chapter 10 of Book 1 (A Real Revolution with Real Bloodshed), where Tengo talks to Fuka-Eri’s current guardian, a former anthropology professor and friend of Fuka-Eri’s father. Fuka-Eri’s father (Tamotsu Fukada) was an academic and Maoist revolutionary, enthusiastic about the Cultural Revolution, who gathered a number of students to start a commune in the mountains of Takao. There is a fascinating section on the splintering of the commune into a moderate faction and a more radical one:

“Under Fukada’s leadership, the operation of Sakigake farm remained on track, but eventually the commune split into two distinct factions. Such a split was inevitable as long as they kept Fukada’s flexible unit system. On one side was a militant faction, a revolutionary group based on the Red Guard unit that Fukada had originally organized. For them, the farming commune was strictly preparatory for the revolution. Farming was just a cover for them until the time came for them to take up arms. That was their unshakable stance.”

This paragraph reminds me of the case of the Tarnac Nine. It is within the realm of possibility Murakami had heard about this case, because their arrest was in 2008, shortly before 1Q84’s first books were published. There’s a commune in Tarnac that was involved in the operation of a nearby general store (Magasin General, Tarnac). Giorgio Agamben wrote a brief post on this affair describing it this way:

“On the morning of November 11, 150 police officers, most of which belonged to the anti-terrorist brigades, surrounded a village of 350 inhabitants on the Millevaches plateau, before raiding a farm in order to arrest nine young people (who ran the local grocery store and tried to revive the cultural life of the village). Four days later, these nine people were sent before an anti-terrorist judge and “accused of criminal association with terrorist intentions.””

The social theorist Alberto Toscano described the event in similar terms:

“On 11 November 2008, twenty French youths are arrested simultaneously in Paris, Rouen, and in the small village of Tarnac (located in the district of Corrèze, in France’s relatively impoverished Massif Central region). The Tarnac operation involves helicopters, one hundred and fifty balaclava-clad anti-terrorist policemen and studiously prearranged media coverage. The youths are accused of having participated in a number of sabotage attacks against the high-speed TGV train routes, involving the obstruction of the train’s power cables with horseshoe-shaped iron bars, causing material damage and a series of delays affecting some 160 trains. Eleven of the suspects are promptly freed. Those who remain in custody are soon termed the ‘Tarnac Nine’, after the village where a number of them had purchased a small farmhouse, reorganised the local grocery store as a cooperative, and taken up a number of civic activities from the running of a film club to the delivery of food to the elderly. In their parents’ words, ‘they planted carrots without bosses or leaders. They think that life, intelligence and decisions are more joyous when they are collective’.”

The Professor’s farming of Akebono (the radical offshoot of Sakigake) are framed in similar terms to the way anti-terrorist police in France portrayed the activities of the Tarnac co-op farm, as a front for revolutionary activity. Of course, if you read the Invisible Committee’s “Coming Insurrection”, allusions to such notions are elaborated on:

“Every commune seeks to be its own base. It seeks to dissolve the question of needs. It seeks to break all economic dependency and all political subjugation; it degenerates into a milieu the moment it loses contact with the truths on which it is founded. There are all kinds of communes that wait neither for the numbers nor the means to get organized, and even less for the “right moment” — which never arrives.”

But this excerpt follows a notion of the commune that is not so easily type-casted into the rural commune of Tarnac:

“Communes come into being when people find each other, get on with each other, and decide on a common path. The commune is perhaps what gets decided at the very moment when we would normally part ways. It’s the joy of an encounter that survives its expected end. It’s what makes us say “we,” and makes that an event. What’s strange isn’t that people who are attuned to each other form communes, but that they remain separated. Why shouldn’t communes proliferate everywhere? In every factory, every street, every village, every school. At long last, the reign of the base committees! Communes that accept being what they are, where they are. And if possible, a multiplicity of communes that will displace the institutions of society: family, school, union, sports club, etc. Communes that aren’t afraid, beyond their specifically political activities, to organize themselves for the material and moral survival of each of their members and of all those around them who remain adrift. Communes that would not define themselves — as collectives tend to do — by what’s inside and what’s outside them, but by the density of the ties at their core. Not by their membership, but by the spirit that animates them.”

There is a strong eschatological element in the writings of the Invisible Committee, that some radical political theologians have picked up on (e.g. see Ward Blanton’s lecture on the Invisible Committee ). Because of Julien Coupat’s arrest as one of the Tarnac Nine, the Invisible Committee has become associated with the journal Tiqqun. In “Theory of Bloom” Tiqqun is defined:

“The French rendering of the Hebrew word Tikkun, meaning to “perfect”, “repair”, “heal”, or “transform”. In rabbanical school, students study mystical texts that view tikkun as the process of restoring a complex divine unity. A tikkun kor’im (readers’ tikkun) is a study guide used when preparing to chant the Torah, or to read from the Torah in a Jewish synagogue. People who chant from the Torah must differs from that written (the Kethib) in the scroll.”

The Wikipedia article for Tiqqun says the word is derived from the “Hebrew term Tikkun olam, a concept issuing from Judaism, often used in the kabbalistic and messianic traditions.”

Murakami certainly alludes to this intersection of eschatology, theology, and politics, firstly in his narrative mechanism which has this Maoist commune turn into a secretive religious cult. He ties the religious and political in this way, but in a manner that I myself find unconvincing. Many of these co-operative farms are anti-hierarchical and I find it difficult to see, even for a commune of the authoritarian left to turn into something resembling Sakigake in the novel. Regardless, I think the intersection of radical religion and politics in 1Q84 to be a fascinating subject to explore, even if I found Murakami’s particular approach unsatisfying. There is of course an eschatological dimension that Murakami gestures towards in various chapters, often in amusing an humorous ways. One of my favourites is in the following chapter (Chapter 11):

As a woman, Aomame had no concrete idea how much it hurt to suffer a hard kick in the balls… “It hurts so much you think the end of the world is coming right now. I don’t know how else to put it. It’s different from ordinary pain,” said a man, after careful consideration, when Aomame asked him to explain it to her.

Aomame gave some thought to his analogy. The end of the world?

“Conversely, then,” she said, “would you say that when the end of the world is coming right now, it feels like a hard kick in the balls?”

Aomame was called in and instructed to rein in the ball-kicking practice. “Realistically speaking, though,” she protested, “it’s impossible for women to protect themselves against men without resorting to a kick in the testicles. Most men are bigger and stronger than women. A swift testicle attack is a woman’s only chance. Mao Zedong said it best. You find your opponent’s weak point and make the first move with a concentrated attack. It’s the only chance a guerrilla force has of defeating a regular army.”

The manager did not take well to her passionate defense. “…I don’t care what Mao Zedong said—or Genghis Khan, for that matter: a spectacle like that is going to make most men feel anxious and annoyed and upset.”

If there’s any guy crazy enough to attack me, I’m going to show him the end of the world—close up. I’m going to let him see the kingdom come with his own eyes.”

The Witnesses’ rendition of the Lord’s prayer is recurring theme that surfaces throughout the novel, and even if it is presented in a cynical manner by Murakami, I think it still evokes a particular mode of contemplation that I found interesting. The Jehovah’s Witnesses are the obvious allusion Murakami is making and their pacifism is even explicitly mentioned by Ushikawa: “They are well known to be pacifists, following the principle of nonresistance.”

Pacifism, of course, more associated with the radical Christians of the anabaptist tradition, although I have yet to encounter the connection between Jehovah’s Witnesses and Anabaptism, other than certain millenarian impulses they might share. Anyways, I think this an interesting node that Murakami marks, posing the question of violence and justice: revolutionary violence (of Akebono), assassination (Aomame’s side gig), and sexual violence (experienced by the women that the dowager tries to protect). What causes aversion to political and religious radicals, fundamentalists, etc?

Murakami’s answer is coercion and the denigration of the individual. This is epitomized in a dialogue Aomame has with the dowager, where the dowager asks:

“Are you a feminist, or a lesbian?” Aomame blushed slightly and shook her head. “I don’t think so. My thoughts on such matters are strictly my own. I’m not a doctrinaire feminist, and I’m not a lesbian.”

“That’s good,” the dowager said. As if relieved, she elegantly lifted a forkful of broccoli to her mouth, elegantly chewed it, and took one small sip of wine.

This is very similar to the sort of ideology that Jordan Petersen subscribes to. It is a ‘higher than thou’ purity politics that looks down on any sort of collective organization that betrays any sort of hypocrisy. Yet most religious traditions recognize that any sort of collective organizing is bound to live in contradiction with its ideals. Within the Christian tradition, thoughtful adherents recognize the Church as a ‘fallen’ institution composed of ‘sinners’. I think it is important to recognize and confess the short fallings of previous attempts to realize ideals while not abandoning the ideals because people that came before us have severely fucked it up. Another world is possible, and I think if we fall back into our silos of individualism we will not realize this other world. Murakami provides an almost Kierkegaardian framing of what is essentially ritual rape in the novel — and I found that disturbing, though in the realm of magical realism, I’m not qualified to make any meaningful commentary. What I will confess is that my own life betrays a certain sort of ‘bourgeois individualism’ but I have not yet reached a form of cynicism that celebrates it, and I hope I won’t anytime soon.

Anyhow, beyond these critiques, I enjoyed this novel a lot, and I think it brought up interesting questions to contemplate. I found the Proust jokes hilarious, some of the funniest moments in the book. Curiously, I have never finished reading Orwell’s 1984. I was supposed to have finished reading it for a Grade 12 literature class, but I recall that period of the semester as a tremendously busy one for me. I do intend to finish it one day soon, and Orwell’s democratic socialism is a fascinating lens through which to also examine many of the themes that Murakami explores, including those of agency and freedom. There are these strange lines in the book that I don’t quite know what to make of:

“He leaned against the wall, in the shadows of the telephone pole and a sign advertising the Japanese Communist Party, and kept a sharp watch over the front door of Mugiatama.“

There are funnier allusions to this like:

“Have you heard about the final tests given to candidates to become interrogators for Stalin’s secret police?” “No, I haven’t.”

“A candidate would be put in a square room. The only thing in the room is an ordinary small wooden chair. And the interrogator’s boss gives him an order. He says, ‘Get this chair to confess and write up a report on it. Until you do this, you can’t leave this room.’ ”

“Sounds pretty surreal.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not surreal at all. It’s a real story. Stalin actually did create that kind of paranoia, and some ten million people died on his watch—most of them his fellow countrymen. And we actually live in that kind of world. Don’t ever forget that.”

...“So what kind of confession did the interrogator candidates extract from the chairs?”

“That is a question definitely worth considering,” Tamaru said. “Sort of like a Zen koan.”

“Stalinist Zen,” Aomame said.

I have my own views on Murakami’s crypto-Calvinist sections, which is not unrelated to Murakami’s interwoven narrative technique, and in excerpts such as the one I opened with about the etymology of ‘lunatic’. Also, I actually quite enjoyed the way Murakami alluded to Dostoyevsky’s Grand Inquisitor passage from the Brothers Karamazov — where Satan frames miracles as a sort of spectacle when trying to tempt Christ in the wilderness. I’ve always thought that there’s certainly some Debordian comment that can be made with respect to that. In fact, the notion of spectacle, and this process of reducing agency such that we become mere spectators, is itself thematic in Murakami’s fiction, especially here. Again, it is this crypto-Calvinist notion of fate, that one’s future is already predetermined and no matter what one might try, it is inevitable. (This must be related to Murakami’s quoting of Carl Jung: “Called or not called, God is there”.) And so one becomes almost a spectator to one’s own life unfolding under the predetermined path of capital. Yet curiously, Tengo and Aomame do escape from Leader’s prophetic claim that was to befall Aomame, out from 1Q84, back up the stairwell back to the path of 1984. If only escaping from “late declining capitalism” (Murakami’s term) was that simple.

Though I had many reservations, 1Q84 was breezy read and I think that’s a testament to how fun Murakami’s writing can be, and this was one of those books where this was very much the case.

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shslenergytransferspecialis-blog · 7 years

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45 development q’s or w/e

TW for car accident (mention?) and death (mention?)

also uh. fetish talk? discussion? mention? i’m not sure what to classify that as

I said I’d redo this after endgame like cue and farren but unlike cue I did not do this in advance whoops

if a question is bolded that means there’s NEW INFO WOWIE

1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

Nah. *typically makes his OCs only children so he doesn’t have to develop siblings bc he’s way too lazy*

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

It was good! I mean I don’t really have anything else to say about it, but they were close.

3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Same as above tbh

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Yes. Holly. (And for that reason maybe Michiko but idk)

New: okay so. shit I guess I’m just gonna dump the big spoiler in this question right here.

Masashi has symphorophilia. He is sexually attracted to staging and watching disasters. This is ultimately the reason he got into his talent of making rube goldberg machines.

anyway. he discovered this after witnessing his parents’ car accident that ultimately led to the end of their lives. and yeah he told holly at some point about his parents so.

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

In-game, usually just his ID card. Outside of the game, other than essentials like ID, wallet, etc. he carries mints around.

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Yeah. (”What are they?” shhh)

New: i mean. disaster.

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Tbh I don’t think Masashi would ever classify any dream as a “nightmare.” So… no.

New: due to his symphorophilia and how Masashi handles things, he wouldn’t ever consider anything a nightmare because anything bad would still be... well, enjoyable for him.

8. Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

I mean… probably. But there’s no specific event in his backstory with this subject so your guess is as good as mine.

(”Corey these are the worst answers ever” LISTEN, I’M SORRY,)

New: Masashi’s probably fuckin killed someone due to How He Is but I never created any specific moments like that in his backstory, so,

9. Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

Yes. It’s higher now.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

He typically wears “more” clothing but he’s not more comfortable with that. He’s indifferent, he’ll wear whatever.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

Masashi doesn’t really… get afraid. I mean he would have during his childhood but again, no specific event.

He’s definitely experiencing something in-game that could… potentially be classified as making him “afraid” but spoilers. And it’s not really related to the mutual-killing biz.

New: Here I mean before discovering his fetish, but again, nothing personally developed by me. ha ha ha I suck at developing ocs okay-

As for the second part, uh... I honestly can’t remember what I was referring to LMAO

but I can definitely say his feelings for Holly have made him “afraid”, at least in some sort. he’s never actually cared for anyone and he knows that he won’t be afraid to hurt her even though he cares for her, because hurting someone he cares about? delightful. but yeah he’s also rational (I mean in some cases) and doesn’t want to do that to someone he cares about, he just... knows he would.

12. In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

he always calm

13. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

Not at all.

14. Does your character remember names or faces easier?

… Both. Neither one easier than the other.

15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

Both/yes? For spoiler reasons unfortunately.

New: people with money and material possessions tend to hold power and are looked up to. and if people are looking up to him he can manipulate them in the name of disaster ahyuck. so yeah he wants money and whatnot

16. Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

Happiness. That ultimately drives everything he does.

New: Sating his fetish drives everything he does.... which is his happiness, as unfortunate and awful as that is.

17. What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

One of those toy piano things.

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

I’d say either, but in-game points to ambition.

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Ha ha ha spoiler question. Yes, yes it has.

New: Honestly all the modified questions should be very predictable for you now. his biggest flaw is his lack of empathy and actually caring about anyone due to his symphorophilia. so he tends to just have his fun with people before doing something stupid. ...actually this still applies to the very rare case he actually does care about someone, like holly, because he’ll still do something stupid eventually.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

Masashi would just make observations rather than compare himself to someone, although the times he ever would compare himself to others would be for both self-validation and self-criticism… for spoiler reasons.

New: if someone is well-respected and trusted, Mash is going to Copy The Shit Out of Them... because he wants to gain trust from people. ...I didn’t do this in game because I’m a moron but. y’know

21. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

…He wouldn’t really care either way.

22. What does your character like in other people?

Spoiler question.

(”Corey how is that even possible for this one” HEY I’M TRYING OKAY)

New: Masashi doesn’t really “““like”““ people, so what he likes to see in other people is naivety and gullibility and... y’know. things that make it easy to manipulate them. thanks

Holly is... complicated and deserves her own post. even if it isn’t long-winded, especially because it’s me we’re talking about and I don’t go in-depth with anything

23. What does your character dislike in other people?

See above.

New: people like Yuka who are very wary of others and not willing to put trust in like anyone. (sorry Yuka you were the first example to come to mind i love her tho)

24. How quick is your character to trust someone else?

See above, even though that probably gives away the answer to this one in some manner.

New: He doesn’t really... “trust” people? but like he isn’t wary of them... he’ll go along with a lot of things. If people screw him over, well.. he’d enjoy it. Ugh

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

He’s very quick to suspect someone else, but only because it doesn’t change his opinion of them. Like… he doesn’t care. As usual.

26. How does your character behave around children?

Same as around anyone else, really. Polite. Agreeable. Nice. hhhhh

27. How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

It’s kinda situational depending on who’s confronting him. In most cases he’d just try to defuse the situation/appease the person. In the other cases he’d just instigate them further and generally be a smug asshole oops.

28. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

Slow. Masashi’s a noodle, he won’t resort to physical violence unless, somehow, he’s absolutely certain he’d prevail. …I really can’t see that situation happening in a normal 1v1 type confrontation.

29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

Being a musician à la piano (hi Ayato). It did not come true, obviously.

30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Uh, pretty much nothing.

31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

Anywhere with a person/people that trust him.

32. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

The opposite of the above, I guess? But like… it’s hard to answer this and the one above like I want without spoiler so… next.

New: AGAIN, ANSWERS ARE VERY PREDICTABLE NOW I’M SURE. It’s not possible for Masashi to feel uncomfortable... I mean, like, it is, but he’d most likely be enjoying whatever the hell is happening, so... paradox, dude.

33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

Unless the criticism is coming from a select few people, he won’t give a shit about it and would just blow it off/ignore it.

34. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

He’d stop and reevaluate whatever the situation is, and either keep trying the same solution/method after minor adjustments or move on depending on what he feels is best.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

Less stiff/formal. (only slightly)

36. How does your character behave around people they dislike?

Hard to say. Masashi doesn’t really “““dislike”““ people.

37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Status, I suppose.

38. Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

Is both possible

39. Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

I wanna say no but I guess it’s always possible, especially if he was doing something incredibly ridiculous for a Rube Goldberg machine. Clearly not affected by it in the event that it happened anyway.

40. How does your character treat people in service jobs?

Respectfully. … Not much else.

41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

…Mostly the former, but he’s not, like… spoiled/stupid about it.

42. Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

Naw.

43. Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

Alright I’m dumb does this mean like Mash depending on someone or someone depending on Mash?

If it’s him depending on someone, no.

If it’s someone depending on him…… does Holly count-

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

Extremely easy, yes definitely.

New: Again, if saying “I love you” helps him gain more points/trust/whatever with someone, he has no problem saying it. And he never means it.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Nothing. He’ll cease existing, that’s the end, whatever. It doesn’t scare him, no.

#ooc #about masashi #question 4 is all you'll ever need to know about him #i didn't really change as much as i thought i would because i'm lazy and would just... sound like a broken record repeating the same things #over and over

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aoi-midori · 7 years

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Lucid Storm Chapter 2

yo! i meant to post this one a while ago, but i got sidetracked by a lot of stuff, so i wasn’t on tumblr too much. so i’m doing it now. also, note how I HAVE A NEW TITLE FOR MY STORY. ‘lucid storm’ is now the official title! woo! anyway, i’ll post the links to the previous chapters before the ‘read more’!

Chapter 0: ETMA (Prologue) | Chapter 1: First Mission

Chapter 2: The Element Spheres [Emma Parker]

“Whoa. Geez Al, calm down! You’re hitting too hard!”

“Oh, I am? Sorry, my bad.” Al relaxed himself more and continued punching away, this time a bit more gently, at the blocking cushion I was holding up for him.

“Got something on your mind?”

“Nah, not really. I read the new chapter though.”

“Yeah?” The chapter in question was from a long-running manga series Al had been reading for years. I didn’t read this one in particular, but I knew a lot about it thanks to him. “And?”

Al shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

“Really? Just okay?”

“Yeah, well I feel like this arc in general has just been dragging for a while now. Some aspects are pretty interesting, but there was mostly just exposition stuff this chapter. And not too much has been going on just yet.”

He started punching harder again, but I was ready for it this time. “Still, at least the fave was able to kick some ass this time around. It’s pretty cool to see him in action since all the focus has been off of him for 3 irl years.”

Al stopped and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “Alright Em, you’re up.”

“Thanks!” I handed him the cushion and braced myself before I gave it the first blow. Upon first contact, I could feel the warmth from Al’s punches. It was… very comforting, and it put me at ease.

“So, the arc is definitely almost over, right? I mean, that’s what it sounds like to me.”

“I have no idea to be honest. You can’t really predict anything with Oda involved.”

He sighed. “But nevermind that. Is there anything new with you?”

“What? We just saw each other last night Al!”

“Yeah, well something could have happened since then! You never know, right? So?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. After you left last night, I just went to bed. But…” I paused for a second as I slowly started to remember. “But I did have that dream again though.”

“Which one?”

“You know, that one recurring dream with the girl in it?”

“Oh shit, that one? Again?”

“Yep.”

Ever since I was seven years old, I had had this one dream every now and then. Coincidentally enough, that was also around the same time when my powers first started acting up. A few things would change each time, but the main aspect that always stayed the same was the black-haired girl who showed up in them. She never spoke, and her eyes had always been closed shut, so it was like she was never awake when I had them. I had no idea who this girl was, and why it was her in particular who showed up. I had first originally thought that she was just some random person I’d passed in the street somewhere who my subconscious just conjured up for some reason. But then she became a recurring character in the dreams, and that basically threw my theory right out the window.

My punching became faster and harder. “It’s weird. Over the past several years, I’ve had it on and off. But now…. I don’t know, since last week I’ve been seeing her a lot more often. Like… every few days or so. Is that even normal?”

“Beats me. But you know, I wouldn’t put it past me to believe that it’s somehow magi-related. We did have our first mission last week after all. Maybe that had something to do with it?”

“I have no idea! But just for once, I want to know who that girl even is! I mean she keeps showing up, so she’s got to be important somehow, right? I just need answers already!”

“Yow!” Al dropped the now-burning blocking cushion and reeled back as he clutched his hand. “Jesus Em, watch what you’re doing dammit!”

“Shit!” As soon as I realized what had happened, I dropped to the floor and tried to put the flames out before the fire alarm could go off. “Sorry Al!”

He sighed as he pulled the water out of one of the water bottles sitting on the floor nearby and spread it over the cushion. The flames went out instantly. “It’s fine. Just try to keep your cool though, alright? I know you’re a Tecmentic and all, but come on! That shit’s dangerous!”

“Yeah I know, I’m working on it!” I leaned back and sat down on the gym floor. “But I still don’t even know what it all means. I know Sammie explained it and everything, but I feel like I’m even more confused about it now.”

“Is it the ‘having two aura sources’ thing? Or having Tectonic abilities on top of the Elemental stuff?”

“All of it! Like, how did they even figure out that I was a Tecmentic anyway? What I can do right now isn’t anything different from what other fire users can do, right?”

“Sure, but you can generate your own fire, whereas people like Lex can’t and have to use other means to do so.”

“So is that all there is to it then? I can just automatically make fire by myself? Everyone makes it seem like being a Tecmentic is such a huge deal, but I just don’t see it. What’s so special about being able to make your own fire?”

Al looked deep in thought. Eventually, he shared his thoughts with me. “Maybe it’s something that you have to ease into. Like… as you start to learn more about yourself and the limits of your powers, you’ll find that you’ll be able to do more stuff with it. Things like this always take some time getting used to anyway.”

I groaned, leaning forward so that my elbows were propped up against my knees. “That sounds like a lot of unnecessary work if you ask me.”

“Well no one did say it was going to be easy.” Al sat down opposite me; we were so close, our knees were touching. “But if anyone can get a handle on this, it’s you. So don’t sweat it! And as always,” he slid his hands under mine, “I’ll be right here with you every step of the way. That’s what best friends are for, right?”

No matter what, Al always had me smiling. It was like he did it on pure instinct. “Yeah. Thanks.”

His hands were cool to the touch. They felt really, really nice, especially since mine were always very warm. In fact, my entire body was like that, always had been. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had ever felt legitimately cold. I guessed it just came with the package of being a Tecmentic fire user.

I flipped my hands over so that my palms were touching his, and my fingers closed in around them. “It’s nice that you’ve got so much faith in me! I hope you’re not jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what?”

“It’s like Sammie said! Tecmentics are pretty rare, you know.” My grip on his hands tightened as I pulled him in closer, our noses just barely apart. “And I know you always get excited when I use my powers. Don’t deny it.”

“Sh-shut up!” Al blushed as he averted his eyes from mine. He pulled himself back a bit, putting a slight distance between us. “I will admit, you’ve got a point there. Who wouldn’t be excited about that stuff anyway? But I don’t envy you for having them over me. I’m perfectly okay with what I’ve got now, thank you very much.”

“Really, you’re sure you wouldn’t want them? It could be fun!”

“Mmm I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but… I think I’ll pass. I don’t think fire suits me anyway.”

“Okay then,” I scooted myself closer so that my knees were on top of his. “Here’s a question for you. If you could trade powers with anyone here, who would it be and why?”

“Ohhhhh now there’s a tricky one. There are a lot of pretty cool ones… No wait, what am I even saying? This should be a no-brainer. Will’s, hands down.”

“What? Really?”

“Hell yes. Will’s super endurance is the only one that’s actually practical if you ask me. You don’t even have to do anything really to use it; it’s always activated. And besides, having high endurance would be extremely useful in a fight!”

“Well I guess that’s true.” I tilted my head to the side as I eyed the blocking cushion next to us. “Anyway, wanna train some more now?”

Al looked down at it too and sighed. “Yeah, alright.” We both stood up in-sync. “Just don’t flare up on me again, okay?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll do my best.” I tucked a strand of blue hair back behind my ear as Al picked up the cushion. I readied myself once again, but before I could even punch the thing, I could hear the chorus of “Sugar, We’re Goin Down” coming from my pocket. “Huh? Someone’s calling me?”

I pulled my phone out to see that it was a text, and then almost immediately, Al’s started going off too. I could easily tell thanks to the several loud rounds of “ROW ROW, FIGHT THE POWA” that were very recognizable.

<From: Bro - Get Al & come to Briefing Room 1 ASAP, & be ready to go on a mission. It’s an emergency!>

“Yeah, I’m with her right now. Whoa, just calm the fuck down already! What happened? Yeah yeah alright, we’re on our way. Bye.”

I heard Al put his phone away as I texted Bro back. “That was Cho, said we need to head for the main building right away.”

“Yeah, Bro just texted me about that too.”

“Right. Guess we’d better get going then, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I grabbed the single remaining water bottle off the floor and downed it in one gulp. “It’s sad we didn’t get to train anymore. But if it’s a mission, then it can’t be helped.”

“I’m just wondering what the hell’s going on. Cho was pissed when she called. The last time I heard her that angry was during last week’s mission, and if she’s like that now… This mission must be really important.”

“Well whatever the case, things’ll work out in the end! I’m sure it will.” But even I was curious about it all. Bro had said that it was an emergency. So whatever this mission was, something bad had to have happened.

The two of us left the gym and immediately headed for the main building on base. Luckily enough, the two buildings were only five minutes apart from each other, so it didn’t take long for us to get there. And when we did finally reach the room in question, we found three people in there waiting for us.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Bro sounded relieved at the sight of us, but that didn’t change the fact that he looked very uneasy. The way he was sitting along with the fast drumming of his fingers on his leg implied as much.

“You okay there Bro?”

“I’ll be fine!” He nodded and said all of that a bit too quickly to convince me.

Al meanwhile grabbed his arms and rubbed his hands furiously against them. “Jesus fucking christ it’s cold in here, what the hell?”

“Are you sure? I don’t feel anything.”

“Are you kidding me? It feels like it’s 30 degrees in here!”

“Cho. Calm down. You’ll freeze everyone if you keep this up.”

It was only when Shuuhei spoke that I finally noticed what Bro was so anxious about. Sitting in the corner by the door was Cho, and she looked livid. She sat indian-style on the floor, and her arms were folded so tightly across her chest, it looked as if she might actually tear them off. But it was the look on her face that really startled me. Pursed lips, a permanent frown, and those stormy green eyes; it definitely put me on edge.

She didn’t respond to Shuuhei at all. She just sat there, staring at the opposite wall with a death glare powerful enough to scare anyone. And apparently it was so cold in there that even Bro and Shuuhei were now starting to shiver.

As we moved farther into the room, Al went for Shuuhei and muttered into his ear. “What’s her problem?”

Shuuhei sighed. “It’s complicated. There are a lot of things factoring into it.”

“Like what? The mission?”

Shuuhei hesitated before slowly nodding his head. “That, along with other things that are involved.”

Right on cue, a small gust of wind passed through our group of three. Shortly after that, both Al and Shuuhei huddled in for warmth. I assumed that the room had just gotten even colder, and it was then that I noticed my breath hanging in the air. I moved in closer too and put my arms around the two of them to help try and warm them up.

Bro stayed where he was, but he did eventually stand up and took a step towards Cho. “Come on Cho, please calm down! Everything in the room will start freezing over soon if you don’t stop this!”

He didn’t get an answer, but there was another short wind gust though. And that seemed to make things even colder since Bro now came over to join our group.

Al leaned in even closer so that his head rested against my chest. “Goddamn,” he muttered as his teeth chattered simultaneously. “Shuuhei, do something!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He left for the other side of the room and knelt down on the floor beside Cho. He gently put a hand onto her shoulder. “Cho. Cho! Listen to me!” He shook her shoulder a bit to try to get her attention. “You need to stop this! If you keep this up, you’ll only end up hurting yourself!”

Nothing happened. Her eyes remained staring at the other wall, unfocused. Shuuhei then moved so that both hands were grasping her shoulders and shook her even more. “Come on Cho, snap out of it!”

“Wha?!” Cho finally snapped back to reality with that one. She looked over at the rest of us before turning back to Shuuhei. “What happened? Did something- oh hell, it’s cold in here!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Al hissed, his body still leaning against mine. “This was your doing, so fix it already for god’s sake!”

“Oh shit, really?” Almost immediately, the atmosphere within the room lightened considerably, and I assumed the temperature went back up. “Sorry! I zoned out for a while…”

“Augh thank god,” Al sighed with relief as he let go of me. Even Bro looked a lot more relaxed.

Shuuhei took Cho’s hands and helped her up to her feet. “Are you alright?”

Cho’s frown returned, but she looked a lot more calm this time. She folded her arms again as she leaned back against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

From the way her tone sounded, she sure didn’t seem fine to me. She was anything but fine, but at least she wasn’t freezing up the room again.

“So… is everyone here now?” Bro asked the room. “Al, Sis and I are the only ones you needed to see, right?”

“Yes.” When I got a closer look, Shuuhei didn’t look very happy either.

“So what happened exactly?” I looked between him and Cho before continuing. “Is it that serious?”

The look on Shuuhei’s face was a grim one. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll just cut to the chase this time since we only have a limited amount of time to act here.”

There were plenty of chairs in the room to sit down in, but Bro, Al and I remained standing, which ended up being a good thing in the long run since Shuuhei beckoned us over to him soon enough. “About an hour ago, we received some intel that the Chang-Los are planning to go after the Element Spheres.”

A wave of silence passed between us. I didn’t think any of us were expecting to hear that. Then Bro was the first to speak up. “What are they trying to do? Do they plan to destroy the spheres?”

“Not exactly.” Shuuhei looked between the three of us. “Have any of you heard the myth surrounding the Element Spheres?”

We all shook our heads. “I didn’t think so. Alright then, I’ll make this brief. Legend says that when all five spheres are brought together, they have the power to combine and create a single, more powerful sphere. It goes by the name of the Quintessimal Sphere, and it has the power to control all five elements alone. That is what the Chang-Los are after. Or more specifically, that’s what Heng is after. What he really wants is to create the Quintessimal Sphere.”

Al shifted his footing beside me. “Wait wait, hang on a second. Who the hell is Heng?”

“Heng Chang-Lo,” Cho piped in from her corner. “He’s the leader.”

“Oh. Okay then, never mind.”

“Wait,” I put my hand up slightly. “You said it forms by combining all five spheres. Since the spheres are a magi power source, wouldn’t that have an effect on any Elemental mages?”

“You’d think that, but no. According to our intel, Heng thinks he’ll be able to wipe out all Elementals if he creates and uses the combined sphere, but that won’t be the case. The Element Spheres will only have been combined, not destroyed, so it shouldn’t have any negative effects on Elemental mages whatsoever.”

“Oh, well that’s good!”

“However, we’ll have a different problem on our hands. The Quintessimal Sphere’s power is so great, it’s near impossible to control it. And as such, it will most definitely cause a chain reaction and destroy everything in a very wide radius. If Heng does succeed in creating it, a lot of people are going to die.”

Al’s face went dark. “... This has happened before, hasn’t it?”

The look on Shuuhei’s face said it all, despite the blindfold. “Unfortunately, yes. The last successful attempt occurred several centuries ago. There aren’t many known details about it, but it’s been stated that the damage caused by the Quintessimal Sphere was massive enough to wipe out entire civilizations.”

“Successful attempt? You say that as if there’ve been multiple attempts since then.”

“That’s because there have been.” Shuuhei glanced over at Cho before continuing. “The last attempt happened back in 2005 in Japan, and ETMA was one of the groups in charge of handling the situation.”

“Oh that’s right,” Bro mused. “I always keep forgetting that there are other mage organizations besides ETMA.”

“Right, well ETMA is certainly by far one of the largest, so it can be easy to overlook. Anyway, though we were able to stop the last attempt from succeeding, we can’t afford to rest easy. We’ll have to act fast if we’re to put an end to Heng’s plans.”

“So what are we going to do then?” I asked as I folded my arms. “If he’s going after the spheres, we’ll have to beat him to it, right?”

“Yes, retrieving the Element Spheres will be one of our top priorities, that’s for sure. But the spheres themselves aren’t the main concern.”

“How so?” Al narrowed his eyes at Shuuhei. “I mean, if the Quintessti- no… the Quinessi- ah fuck. You know, the thing- gets formed by all five spheres combined, then…”

“Well, no matter what Heng does, it won’t be that easy. First of all, the specific locations of each sphere are all heavily guarded and can only be accessed by a mage. And even if Melisma can help him with that, there won’t really be that much danger by bringing all five of them together.”

“Okay, now I’m even more confused.”

“What I’m saying is that just bringing all five Element Spheres together in the same vicinity won’t cause the Quintessimal Sphere to form. By themselves, they won’t do a thing at all. In order for the spheres to combine into the Quintessimal Sphere, another key element has to come into play first.”

“And what’s that?”

Shuuhei digged through one of the file folders on the table in front of us and pulled out a single sheet of paper, handing it to me for us to look at. “This right here.”

It was a picture of a… well, a rock basically. From the looks of it, it was very small, and it was colored black and white, like the colors were split straight down the middle to look like one half was black, the other white. Judging by the picture itself, it didn’t look so harmless to me.

I skeptically looked up at Shuuhei. “This is the picture you wanted to show us, right?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“It’s a marble.”

“Yeah, I know, but don’t underestimate its appearance. This thing is deadly.”

“Okay, no, I’m with Em on this one,” Al placed his hand on my shoulder. “How is a freaking marble deadly to us?”

“Alright, let me explain. Looks can be deceiving. That right there is essentially the core of the Quintessimal Sphere.”

Bro gulped. “Th-the core?”

“Uh huh, right. As I said earlier, the spheres by themselves won’t combine. If they’re just left alone, then nothing will happen. However, if this ‘marble’, as you guys call it, comes into the picture and makes contact, the spheres will supposedly get drawn to it like a magnet. And then… Well, you all know what will happen next.”

I set the picture down onto the table. “Okay! So the bottom line is that the marble is 500 miles of bad road. What’s our plan then? I’m assuming we’re going to have to go and find that too?”

“Exactly. While the other teams are going to be sent to each sphere location to retrieve the Element Spheres, I’ll want you guys to go after the marble. With me so far?”

We all nodded, though I was still curious about one thing. “But why us in particular?”

“Because I’ve worked with ya before, and we work well together.” It was Cho who answered us. She straightened up and finally left her corner to join us around the table. “Also, Will’s super endurance’ll be pretty damn useful for this mission, so there’s that.”

“Cho is going to be leading the mission, in case you were wondering.”

“Ah, okay then. Gotcha. So do we know where to find the thing anyway?”

“That we do.” Shuuhei brought out another file folder and pulled out two printouts. “Going back to our intel. Each source has a different story to tell, but the fact remains that Melisma is most definitely involved with this one. One source says that Melisma is in charge of locating the marble and that they’ve pinpointed the location to Greece. The second source goes further to say that they actually found it.”

Al placed his palm onto the table. “So what you’re saying is that we’re basically going to be raiding a Melisma base then? All to find the yin-yang marble?”

“You got it.” Cho replied with a quick nod. “We go in, find the damn thing, and come back here with it. And of course, we’ll have to be on the lookout for Melisma agents at every nook and cranny, but no pressure! We’ve got this in the bag!”

Even though she did sound optimistic enough about it, Cho still seemed pretty distant. She looked a lot more calm than when Al and I first got there, but I knew those pent-up feelings were definitely not gone yet. She was keeping something bottled up, but I couldn’t question that at the time. We had a mission to complete after all, and I’d have to put that as my top priority for the time being.

“Well, if there aren’t any more questions, then I’ll go ahead and send you on your way,” Shuuhei said with a smile. “Does anyone feel the need for a rousing motivational speech right now?”

“No no, we’re all good. Save it for later dude.” Cho side-waved him as she lead the way out the door. “We’ll be back later!”

“Alright then, good luck!”

I was the last one out. As soon as I took one step out of the room, a wave of heavy pressure jabbed at my backside. It was startling, but also felt kind of familiar, and I came to the conclusion that it was, without a doubt, someone’s aura. And not just anyone’s aura.

He may have kept his emotions at bay during the briefing, but one thing was for sure: his aura felt at least ten times stronger, and much more threatening, than Cho’s ever did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

alright guys, PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK! I’M BEGGING YOUUUUU!!!

#my story #my ocs #my emma parker #my ls ch2 #now we're getting down into some more serious stuff here #this kickstarts the first major conflict in the plot #enjoy guys!

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