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shitpostingkats · 6 months

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Since I think you have met most of the Ignis now- what's your thoughts on them so far? They are like one of my favorite things in Vrains so I wanna hear your thoughts :DDD

BOY ARE YOU IN LUCK BECAUSE I HAVE MANY MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THEM! :D

For anyone who isn't op, these rambles will include SPOILERS up to the end of season two of yugioh vrains. If ye wish to not know, scroll past quickly.

Okay SO:

Ai- Little little guy. I freaking love him so much. Yugioh has pretty consistently done a Dark =/= Bad and Light =/= Good, (more on that later) and Ai is such a freaking good entry into that. Ai is the dark ignis and he's the most human of them all, messy and lazy and silly. And he's like the only one of them who has ANY non-cyberse, non-Lost Incident life experience like!!!! Of course he talks like a comments section! Of course he has free will and self awareness and the first thing he did to prove this was "exerting his free will" by rolling his eye(s)! And OH MY GOD him and Yusaku. The relationship each ignis has with their lost child is SO important to me. Ai and Yusaku are, on the surface, the most different, but where they agree is their sense of surety and their sense of freedom. Ai and Yusaku have the exact same confidence in themselves. In Yusaku, it's the self confidence of knowing he's done everything he can and is smart enough to be prepared for anything. When Ai tells him "just get lucky!" and Yusaku goes "No, I'm not going to get lucky, but I'm going to win anyway." And that's SO fascinating because Ai has that same self confidence, but essentially learned it from Yusaku, that survival response of 'I am good enough that this will work'. Yusaku taught Ai everything about asserting yourself, and it's buried beneath layers and layer of different experiences, but fundamentally they're the same, the same trauma of 'I will be better. I will be enough by myself, because I am in this alone.' and then they find they are both strong but they're stronger together and it makes me want to BITE SOMETHING.

(Readmore because this got long whoops)

Flame- Why is he britsh??? Theo isn't british. He was not made in britain nor was anyone on the project british. I can only assume he purposefully chose that accent to make himself sound smarter. I love him for it. Flame and Theo are tied up in a lot of headcanon for me, most specifically I think Theo is the lost kid who lost the most (barring Spectre, who sometimes lost on purpose) before getting the hang of the game. Thus, his whole rising from the ashes motif. Teddy and Flame are the survival response of spitting out a tooth and getting back up again. They lived through the incident by refusing to stay down, and yet somehow they came out of it as a friendly jock and a silly little nerd guy. The obvious care they have for each other absolutely sends me. Flame's argument against the war is literally "We can coexist with humans. I am coexisting with a human right now, and you cannot stop me." When his home was destroyed the first thing he did was seek out Theodore. I AM GOING INSANE. And of course Theo dropped everything and moved across the country just to help someone he really didn't know before that day ARE YOU KIDDING ME. They are involved in this entire story because they cannot comprehend not helping eachother. Also, again, jock and nerdy solidarity but the dorky guy with the glasses is the jock and the literal being of fire is the nerd.

Lightning- ALSO INSANE ABOUT HIM. JUST IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING. Okay so like I said I have only recently finished season 2 and haven't started on 3 yet so we haven't had a whole lot of screentime with Jin so I can only guess on how they impact and inform each other but. OH MAN. I mean, I feel like I have to take a whole section just to talk about his PERFORMANCE. His english voice acting is phenomenal, just the right amount of utterly sinister, tempered with this no-nonsense confidence that feels perfect for his grand speeches of logical thinking. Lightning is terrifying, easily one if not the stand out villain performance in all of yugioh for me. You don't side with him, but the audience can see exactly how he gets from Point A to Point B, and that clarity of reason makes him both easily understandable and terrifying. And his visual aesthetics. Blinding light, scorching brilliance, the exact same electricity that the Lost Incident is so known for. Lighting shares a lot with his progenitor experiment, with both him and Revolver learn from Dr. Kogami's "The ends justify the means" approach. Really, Lightning and Revolver are the real opposed rivals here, except they're both the villain so neither one can narratively win. All they can do is ensure the other loses. And I said we haven't seen too much from Jin yet but that does not stop me from CONNECTING SOME THEMATIC DOTS. The complete and total shutdown of Jin compared to the detatched and pragmatic coldness of Lightning. Their survival instinct is disassociation. Shutting off the panicking part of the brain, and all its human responses, in favor of pure autopilot and a "Whatever It Takes" approach to ensure continued survival. Lightning rejects so much of where he cam from, but is so clearly the product of the Lost Incident, and more specifically, Jin. Of humanity. He's got this great line towards Ai where he berates him for basically screwing around in cyberspace for five years, while the rest of them were being actively targeted. Hunted. Surviving. Ai got new experiences, isn't defined as strongly by his trauma. But Lightning and Jin? Both of them completely froze their development, are still stuck in their survival instincts, and cannot move on from it. And I have a pet theory that may or may not see validation, that the Armatos Legios aren't really Lightning's. I mean, roman gladiator don't really tie into anything else about his aesthetics. No, I think no matter what he pretends, the Armatos are Jin's deck, and Lightning is still using them, after all these years.

Windy- Haha silly little fast talk guy who- THIS SIX INCH TALL LITTLE FELLA STRAIGHT UP KILLED HIS LOST KID. This little whirlygig canonically ended the life of his counterpart, something Lightning himself actually frowned upon. I think about this way too much. Windy isn't pragmatic, he isn't logical, he's the free spirited "fuck around" to Lightning's "find out". Windy does what he wants when he wants, and that's somehow equally as scary as Lightning's calculated cruelty. I am gutted we didn't get to meet or ever find out anything more about his human partner, and I'm pretty sure that's the whole point. There was a kid out there with his own struggles, his own problems, his own ways of dealing with the trauma of the Lost Incident, and we just. We will never get to meet him. Windy's kid is the first casualty in this war, and we never get to even learn his name. Also the ramifications of Windy being so cavalier about killing someone who is in some lights a version of himself, of the casual dehumanization Windy takes, not just to himself, but to his fellow Ignis. When threatening to kill Ai, Lightning had a "Well, it will kill 16% of our population, but it will ensure the safety of 84% of us." Windy has no such calculation. Windy doesn't bat an eye at his own death, or the death of another Ignis. And yet. And yet. And yet. When designing a servant for himself, Windy formed one out of a music note. A treble clef. The symbol for the start of a song. Does it mean something? Probably not. But I am freaking haunted by the idea that this wounded ai escaped a second attack on his world, and started rebuilding, not weapons, or schemes. But a new home, and one with music.

Aqua- You know, the ignis are one of the few artificial intelligences where it kinda makes sense that they have genders. Aqua is a girl because she learned from a girl. Her femininity is a gift, or a memorial. So is her kindness. Aqua is the only ignis who really internalized hope and compassion. She sees truth and she doesn't let it break her, she fights by encouraging choice, by asking for opportunity. Her refusing to tell Earth which way to feel in regards to the question of Humans vs. Ignis is such a poignant moment for me, that here is someone who understands better than anyone, what Lightning feels and how humans act, but rather than share her suspicions, she asks Earth to form his own opinion, not just listen to her as his only source. In general, I just like Earth and Aqua's dynamic so much. Two sweet protectors, two pacifists, represented by plant life and water??? Good good good visual motifs. That said, I definitely think Aqua is a character they could do a lot more with. All the other Ignis are just so weird, so charmingly strange in any conversation, that it feels a bit of a missed opportunity that Aqua seems completely "normal" and well adjusted. I also am saddened we haven't seen Miyu aside from in a coma or in flashbacks, because as I mentioned, I am utterly insane for the ignis/lost kids dynamics. But she got introduced pretty late in season two, so I'm holding out hope that we see more of Aqua (and maybe Miyu!) in season 3. Also, the crystal heart combo was some of my favorite gameplay story telling this season, hands down.

Earth- Pour one out for my guy. They really did that to him. As silly as Spectre's backstory is, it really gets me that he has this deeply unhealthy attachment to literally anyone who offers him a place to belong. And his Ignis is the protector, the caregiver. Earth, who can make flowers bloom with barely a thought, who's "socially awkward" but genuinely kind, comes from the child who just wanted attention and was at home in the forest. The freaking hardest gutpunch of the season for me was when Earth is being ripped apart, and we cut to Spectre, shedding a single tear, and he has no idea why. Also THAT'S A PLOTLINE THAT REALLY EXISTS IN YUGIOH. Earth's death is almost jump-scaringly brutal, from the same series that brought you such fun euphemisms for a character being killed as "sent to the shadow realm" and "retired retired". Yeah, no, here's a character being systematically unmade, then those leftover pieces shoved into one dude's brain. The dub could have downplayed it, but the sheer horror every character gives when Gore has his big reveal, really sells the brutality of Sol Tech towards these ai, and any living being that isn't contributing to their bottom dollar. Ryoken's cold deliverance to Ai and Flame about Earth's fate, even almost making light of the situation, had me 100% down to declare for the ignis because what the hell, you can't just do that. If Ai turns heel next season, I'm not saying I support him, but I get it. Earth's death feels like it rattles the whole narrative, in a way that forced me to be just as distraught and emotionally invested as the characters. That's good storytelling babey.

This got long, and this is barely scratching the surface on some of my thoughts for these silly little computer guys.

Needless to say, I enjoy them <3

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 1 year

Text

Alternate AU: Awake

Mark is alive. Despite everything. So why does he feel...different?

TW: death, suicide themes/implications, blood, body horror

Notes: this is a little over 3000 words long. I wrote something about every other turned alt so. Why not the main man himself?

-----

September 16th, 1992. 3:33 AM

The silence was deafening.

The cold nipping at his fingers and face like a cold, dead winter night.

It was nothing but darkness for miles and miles.

Was he dead? Was this the Hell he had heard of from all the bible stories he read?

Was this purgatory? Nothing at all?

He hated it. The cold inside his bones.

He wanted to scream. His voice never reached his ears. Muted.

He wanted to cry. Tears never streamed down his face.

He wanted to feel the warmth of his families embrace, but no one came.

He didn’t want to be dead. He didn’t like the silence. The cold. The darkness. He hated it. He hated it more than he’s hated anything in life. He needed out. He needed to get out of this hell he found himself in. He needed out. He needed out. He needed out. HE NEEDED OUT. HE NEEDED—

Mark awoke to the sound of faint laughter and ringing in his ears. He couldn’t move, with even his eyelids feeling heavier than elephants. He couldn’t speak, his mind feeling blank aside from the unimaginable, throbbing pain reverberating in his skull. He could see the ceiling of his bedroom, with the faint moonlight pouring in through the second story window. His eyes twitched, Mark finally being able to process his position.

He was laid across the bed, with something in his right hand, feeling something warm spritzed on his hand. He was on top of a puddle of some sort of liquid, which stained his bed sheets. He was still wearing his light grey sweatshirt and pale pink sweatpants, along with the gold cross necklace lying against his chest. His chestnut brown hair was a mess, somewhat covering his left eye and forehead. He turned his head, slowly, towards his right arm, feeling dread building up in his gut when he saw what he was holding; a pistol. The liquid he felt running down his fingers was blood.

It wasn’t a nightmare.

He was supposed to be dead.

Mark watched as his stiff joints finally began to move, shaking off the rigor mortis and twitching to a sitting position, his head held low. He dropped the gun, it clattering against the floor as he rose to his feet, feeling his legs creak and wane as his weight was put on them. He felt so heavy, yet as light as a feather. He stumbled towards the door, his body moving like a porcelain doll with stiff joints trying to walk.

He reached for the doorknob, pausing when he finally processed that blood was streaming down his face from the hole in his head. He still felt the bitter cold within him, no longer able to feel the beating of his heart. He lifted his hand towards his face, lightly touching the right side of his face. His skin was as cold as ice, feeling as if he had slept in the snow. Where did his warmth go?

A sharp pain hit his face, causing him to snap out of his shock for a moment. A large “crack” stretched from the hole in his head towards his right eye, simultaneously causing the eye to go blind. Mark pressed his hand against his head, feeling more cracks forming from both sides of his head, seeing chips of his skin falling to the ground next to his feet. He used his other hand to grab the doorknob, throwing the door open despite his hesitation and sudden fear.

He stumbled around the hallway, slamming against the walls as he attempted to stand up straight, unable to do so. He watched as his right eye fell out of its now broken socket, falling to the wooden floor. He was falling apart, like a broken piece of ceramic. He walked towards the stairway, all while wanting to scream in fear and anguish, but being unable to find his voice. He tripped over his own feet, falling forward and tumbling down the stairs. His body cracked and broke, his top teeth falling out of his head like a strange dream he once had. He fell hard onto the carpeted floor, lying still as he felt the pain rushing over his now hollow body.

Was this the true Hell he was supposed to be in? Where was his friend? Where was his family? Was he all alone in this hellscape?

Mark slowly and shakily held himself up, looking down to see the new splotch of blood staining the carpet under his head. “…H…Hello?” Mark squeaked, looking around the living room and seeing no more than the furniture inside. Mark pushed himself to his feet, wincing when he once again felt his legs cry out. He wandered around the room, unable to see anything but darkness through his right eye, and feeling a burning, stabbing pain in his head.

He entered the bathroom, supporting himself on the sink. His fingers were turning purple and black, feeling as if he dipped them into ice water. Was he rotting? He wasn’t dead yet. He looked up through his messy bangs, staring into the mirror in front of him. If he could’ve felt his heart, he knew it would’ve felt like it was sinking through his torso. He stared through his tear filled, bloodshot left eye at what stared back at him.

He didn’t have a face anymore. A large hole consumed the right side of his face, breaking through his porcelain-like skin. He no longer had a mouth, or a nose, or even a right eye anymore. He could only see his bottom jaw and teeth through the cold, dark, endless void that was inside of his hollow body. Cracks spread out from the hole, seeping crimson from every crevice.

He backed away from his reflection, refusing to believe it was him he was looking at. He held his hand up to the hole in his head, seeing that even his arm had faint cracks in it from the fall down the stairs. He could feel it; the void inside his form. It wasn’t an illusion after all. He grabbed his head, feeling his headache slowly become unbearable. He shook his head, hitting his hands against it as he hunched over. The lights were flickering, the mirror cracking slightly as Mark felt as if his head would explode from the pain he was in. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He needed to scream.

He let out a loud, ear-splitting screech, hearing that his voice was split between multiple unrecognizable voices. The light bulbs exploded, and the mirror cracked, its shards falling from its base. Outside, even the bulbs from the streetlights began to flicker, shaking slightly. He continued to scream, feeling blood run down from his eye and pour from the holes in his head. He screamed until the lights all went out, the homes around his losing power and even the entire block being plunged into darkness. Mark abruptly stopped yelling, hunching over and holding his head low.

He slowly turned towards the doorway, shambling out of the room and into the living room once again. He felt something within him; a burning feeling that pierced through the pain and soreness his body was in. He felt immense hatred; the want to kill. But he never wanted to hurt anyone right? He didn’t need to hurt anyone, did he? No matter how much he didn’t want to kill, the feeling bubbled up inside like lava. He looked forward, his pitch black iris focusing on something in the darkness.

A tall figure stood in the corner, wearing a shirt and shorts. He was tall and thin, but vaguely recognizable, even despite the missing mouth and the shadow covering the right side of his face; Cesar. The alternate that trapped him in his room. The one that all but forced Mark to pull the trigger. The one that mocked him, laughing at his futile attempts at escape. However, something was different with it. Through its one visible eye, Mark sensed something emanating from it.

“Why...are...you...here?” It asked.

Mark continued to stare at it, his one eye wide and full of hatred. He didn’t even notice that he was slowly rising into the air, lifting the weight off of his fragile legs. That…thing was the reason he was like this. He hated it. He hated it more than the frigid cold inside of him. Forgive me, Lord, for I will do what I must.

Cesar’s alternate disappeared through the front door, running out into the night. However, as it moved on, it saw something pass its field of vision; a figure. It glanced to its side, seeing Mark hovering around ten feet in the air outside of his home, his harsh, piercing glare fixed on it. The alternate returned the glare, but couldn’t understand the feeling it felt deep inside. It shifted its face as Mark watched, seeing it turn into the real Cesar’s face. It smiled wide before speaking.

“I’m surprised I put up with you as long as I did.” It stated. “You’re nothing. Nothing but a scared boy with a gun. A coward.”

Mark didn’t give it a response, only inching closer, blood dripping onto the pavement and grass below. Cesar’s alternate felt its smile begin to fade when it felt itself slowly being pulled up into the air, all while Mark’s glare stared deep into its “soul”. Mark approached it, feeling only more rage when he saw it was the real Cesar’s face.

It went to speak before its smile was ripped from its face, feeling something deep inside of it; a sharp, burning pain. It looked into Mark’s eye as it fell to the ground, looking at its bony, misshapen hands to see that they were turning black and falling apart. It scrambled around, feeling its form breaking, his face shifting between Cesar, and its true alternate form without its input. It felt as if it was being torn apart from the inside out, thick, dark blood pouring out of its eyes, mouth, and nose. Its stolen voices echoed through the air, screaming in unison. Its body was turning into nothing but torn flesh, blood, and dust before its very eyes, its atoms and very being torn apart as if it was nothing. It looked at Mark as it finally realized what it was feeling; an emotion it never felt before that very moment:

Fear.

“Help! Please!” It called, as if it mattered. “I-I’m your friend! I’ve always be-en your friend! Mark please! I thought we were best friends!”

Mark only responded with distain-filled silence as he watched it writhe in pain and anguish, screaming discordantly and begging for mercy as if it didn’t ignore Mark’s similar pleas. Mark listened to its screams fade, its convulsing body growing still, leaving nothing but a half rotten flesh covered skeleton in its place, its distorted face stuck as a look of pure horror. Mark continued to stare at it, feeling nothing other than the pure hatred inside himself, realizing killing the alternate had done nothing to satiate it. He looked out into the night, raising himself into the air before looking out into town. He still felt he had unfinished business, unknowing of what it was before his eye widened.

Cesar.

The real Cesar was the one that brought him to his fate.

He knew there was an alternate in his home; the cameras were nothing but a ploy to get him there.

Cesar never really cared, did he? He only wanted Mark to die, alone, scared, and by a monster he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Cesar was still out there, living in blissful ignorance as Mark suffered. Cesar deserved to suffer, just like he did.

When Mark felt his headache spike once again, he grasped his skull, slowly falling to the ground before slamming against the pavement, lucky that his legs didn’t shatter from the impact. He hated Cesar; his only “friend” that decided he was too good for him. Decided Mark would be better off dead if it meant he didn’t have to deal with him. The alternate was the easiest way to do it, with no blood on Cesar’s hands. He was a traitor, and a coward. He abandoned Mark the second he was no longer useful, ignoring his cries for help. Cesar deserved to die, just like Mark did.

Mark looked up, lightly rubbing his cross necklace with his thumb. He wanted to feel warmth inside of him again. He wanted to feel his heartbeat, and wanted to feel whole again. If killing Cesar would bring him anything close to how he used to be, Mark was willing to take the chance.

Cesar would pay for what he did.

All of Mandela will know of Mark’s betrayal.

The officers who refused to answer his cries, his friends and family who decided he wasn’t worth saving; all of them will feel his pain and suffering.

He no longer cared if God would turn away from him, for Mark had turned from God already.

All that was left was him.

Mark hovered above the gravel road, almost dropping out of the air multiple times as he attempted to figure out how to properly move while midair. He continued moving until he saw something in the distance; a house, sitting in an opening in the trees. It was Cesar’s house, being the very same one Mark went to three days prior to turn on the useless cameras. His brow furrowed, his right hand curling into a fist as he approached the home.

Cesar sat on the couch, wearing a plain white shirt and red shorts as he stared at the TV in front of him, hearing his mother in the kitchen. He furrowed his brows before sighing deeply, getting the attention of Ms. Torres.

“I just…don’t get it.” He stated.

“Don’t get what?” His mother asked from the archway in between the living room and kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“…I…I don’t know.” Cesar muttered as he rubbed his eyes with his hands.

“Do you need anything?” She offered, her brows tilting upwards as she watched Cesar sit up straight.

Cesar sighed slightly before crossing his arms. “…I…maybe I should go check on him.” Cesar muttered, standing up quickly before grabbing his car keys from the side table. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

“Check on who?”

“Mark.” Cesar responded. “He hasn’t called me in over three days. I…I’m afraid something might’ve happened.”

As Cesar stormed towards the door, his mother called from the living room. “But what about the curfew?”

“To hell with the curfew.” Cesar responded before slamming the front door shut behind him. Ms. Torres sighed deeply, crossing her arms as she heard Cesar’s car back out of the driveway. From the back hallway however, the noise of the glass doors in the guest room opening was heard.

Mark entered the room, his feet a few inches off the ground as he stared through the darkness, being silent before he heard Ms. Torres in the other room. “Hello?” She called, the fear in her voice evident. Mark froze for a second, realizing the car leaving wasn’t who he thought it was. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do, but his anger didn’t let him have any second thoughts.

Ms. Torres grabbed a knife from the block on the kitchen counter, inching towards the back hallway with it in hand, almost holding her breath as she did so. She continued to walk down the hallway before lightly pushing open the door to the guest bedroom, freezing when she saw Mark’s body, barely visible from the limited light coming into the room. “…Oh…Mark?” She asked, chuckling nervously. “You…could’ve just told me or Cesar you were coming. He’s…going to your house now, actually, he’s been…worried…about you.”

Mark didn’t respond, not even moving an inch. It was as if he was a statue. Ms. Torres swallowed hard, her eyes widening when she saw the blood on Mark’s right shoulder. “O-Oh, are…are you…alright?”

Mark took a step forward, causing Ms. Torres’s heart to drop before she held out her knife, realizing it wasn’t Mark she was looking at. “G-Get away from me!” She yelled as Mark continued to float towards her. “N-NO!”

She ran down the hall, back towards the kitchen before grasping the home phone on the wall, shakily dialing 911 before holding the phone up to her ear. She looked back down the hallway, seeing Mark barely peeking out from the darkness behind the doorway. Ms. Torres felt her blood run cold when the line didn’t connect, hanging up before dialing more numbers; Cesar had his cell phone on him, meaning he could still be warned about Mark.

Ms. Torres spoke a small Spanish prayer under her breath and through her tears as Mark continued to approach her from behind. She held the knife tight in her hand as she waited for the line to connect, but never heard anything before she felt a hand grab her knife wielding arm. She fought against it, feeling it push the knife towards her neck before she dropped it, shoving Mark away before stumbling into the living room. The phone fell, its cord letting it dangle from its base as the line finally connected. Ms. Torres watched as Mark looked at the knife, it floating into the air before being pointed towards her.

“H-llo?” The distorted voice of Cesar came from the phone, its reception being broken by Mark’s presence alone. He couldn’t hear anything from the other side, not even the screams of his mother as Mark slit her throat.

“-ell-o?”

The phone continued to dangle before Mark stiffly walked towards it, grasping it before holding it up to his ear. The phone reception glitched, screams being heard before disconnecting. Mark calmly placed the phone back onto the hook, blood being smeared on the cream colored plastic. He looked towards Ms. Torres’s body, which laid on the living room carpet, a look of familiar horror on her face. Mark used his newfound telekinetic abilities to drag her body away, a trail of blood from her torn throat following her.

Two bodies. Mark had the blood of both himself, and two other bodies staining his clothes and skin. Yet it still didn’t feel like it was enough. He still had one more he needed to add. Perhaps then he’d feel peace again.

Mark had everything in place. Cesar was almost home; he could feel it. He sat on Cesar’s roof, his eye watching as two headlights grew closer from the gravel street. He watched as Cesar hastily parked his car in the driveway, not noticing Mark at all as he ran into the home. Of course he didn’t. It turned out he never cared about Mark anyway, so why would he start now?

Mark sat still, hearing nothing but silence as Cesar walked around the home. His blank expression remained unmoving when he heard Cesar’s bloodcurdling scream.

#shmorp writes sometimes #mandela catalogue #tmc #tmc alternate au #alt mark #Cesar Torres (alt au)#blood #blood tw #body horror #tw suicide implied #tw suicide #tw death #So. alt mark huh?#I got a sudden burst of inspiration so. heres this #I love this au for real. I know its mine and all but. AUGH /lh #oh yeah. PLEASE listen to the warnings. just be safe

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