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dollslayer · 3 years

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Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

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When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!Au #mafia!au #soft!Mob!Steve Rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest

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angelicmichael · 3 years

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Imminient Annihilation sounds so dope - Chapter Ten

Michael Langdon X Reader

Summary: Reader and Michael continue to work through their issues and finally start to warm up to each other even further.

Words: 5.9k+ …oops

Warnings: just normal IA warnings (swear words, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, enemies to lovers, slowburn, etc) anddd maybeee a bit of fluff 👁

A/N: hey guys! Sorry I haven’t updated this in a few months but hopefully this is satisfactory hehe. This chapter is kinda a turning point in the fic so I hope u guys like it!! Also I watched Jennifer’s Body as I finished this so.. do what u must w that information 😌 djdjd

Previous Chapter

Rain was never something you were accustomed too. Spending so much time in Los Angeles had made you partially spoiled when it came to the weather - which is why you knew immediately your day was going to be shit when you woke up to rain.

You tried to convince yourself that the emotions you were feeling weren’t complete disdain but rather just a pessimistic version of indifference.. or that’s what you hoped anyway.

You knew realistically that your day wasn’t already doomed before it even started; and that the rain was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.. However; you still felt justified in complaining, considering today was the day you were ripping the band-aide off and moving in to the apartment Michael had oh so graciously chosen to give you.

Your pessimistic mood surrounding the entire situation was inevitable, and that was something you didn’t even bother to resist or fight. It didn’t take long for your thoughts to quickly go south as you quickly packed. Hatred that seemingly came out of nowhere (but that you realistically knew was only temporarily dormant) wasted no time in blinding your judgement - making you feel a nearly nauseating amount of jealousy and anger for people who actually seemed to be fucking happy in their relationships and werent forced into.. whatever shitty living situation you knew you were bound to find yourself in.

An apartment with no strings attached was way too fucking simple, and you knew it was too good to be true. You knew you were basically walking into a trap, and for what reason were you doing that so willingly? Just so that maybe Michael could start to tolerate you? You resented yourself for even agreeing to this but you also understood you really had no other option.

However; personal feelings aside.. you still had a mission to accomplish. You still had to attempt to seduce Michael, and even though you were doing a shit job at that so far - you still had to try. You knew realistically it was only a matter of time before Cordelia would ask about the progress you've made, and you would have to tell her something.

You had to do this.

That's why you were (semi) blindly choosing to move in to a building you knew you absoluetly couldnt afford; and why you were sucking up your pride and choosing to become semi reliant on Michael.

No one from the coven knew, and for the time being you intended to keep it that way. After all, even though Mallory didnt exactly know that Michael gave you a whole ass fucking apartment - your sure she probably suspected that something important happened between you and Michael just from the short conversation you three harbored together. But for the time being, you didnt have to worry about that. You had bigger things that were on your mind.. like the actual apartment door itself that you currently stood in front of.

You held the keys limply in your hand, your bag slumped next to you as you procrastinated something as fucking simple as opening a door. How pathetic.

You continued to stall in the hallway regardless - thankful there was no one passing through to witness how ridiculous you looked. Your gaze fell south down to your keys which were cold in your hand. Dripping slowly with the subtle rainwater that managed to linger on them, along with the rest of your clothes.

Your skin stung from the cold that seemed stubborn to leave, and a nice change of clothes and a hot shower wouldnt be the absolute worst thing in the world..

Fuck.

You bit your lip in order to prevent letting the profanity from rolling off your tongue. Quickly getting a better grip on the keys (which only made you somehow colder) and numbly, hastily unlocking the door.

You pushed it open, letting the door hit the wall and taking a few steps inside before dropping your bag to the floor.. as well as your jaw.

No words could possibly convey how you felt as you noticed how the room was already illuminated with not only natural light from the already huge windows you could see.. but also with a warm, yellow artificial glow.

Was someone already here?

What the fuck?

The hatred and resentment you previously felt toward others earlier rapidly started to return - except this time it was targeted at one very specific person.

It didnt even register in your mind that the light could've been left on by accident or that people besides Michael actually existed that could be present in the room but.. you didnt care. Anger was the only emotion that was solely present in your body as you fully abandoned your bag by the door. Advancing forward; and only feeling more shock and disbelief with every step you took at the thought that he could very possibly be in (what was supposed to be) your space.

"Michael, I swear to God-"

"Y/n?” said a soft, feminine voice.

It was practically automatic how you froze. Just getting close enough to notice that it wasn’t Michael after all that was on your bed in your new studio apartment, but a woman sat on your bed instead.

For about two seconds, you were scared it was Madison but.. that was a stupid assumption within itself. The company you were with was from a far different nature than of which Madison was, even though at first glance the two woman might look or sound similar. There were so many qualities that distinguished Mallory from Madison. Brown, auburn hair.. dark eyeshadow.. and her classic black boots. It didn’t take long for your anger to fade away as you tried to not think about how logically this still didn’t make sense - walking closer to your bed anyway.

"How did you get in here? And since when did you ever break into peoples rooms?" You asked with a laugh.

Mallory echoed your laugh back, seemingly watching you and your behavior. As if she was expecting you to do something or to act a certain way.. like perhaps leave.

"I didnt break into your apartment but.. you should probably sit down." She spoke, before nodding off to her side. Nonverbally suggesting you to sit next to her.

You did as you were told. Noticing briefly before you sat down how nice the apartment actually was.. including the bed.

The walls, and most of everything in the apartment was a solid black. It looked sleek, and even though black paint made most rooms look small - the natural light helped keep things looking open which you appreciated. It was no surprise that the bed matched the dark theme too. The sheets were silky, black satin. You almost laughed at how comfortable the bed was once you sat next to Mallory, the entire situation was so ridiculous it nearly hurt for you to not laugh out loud. The two of you sat in the silence for a moment.. you were each incredibly anxious, that was more than apparent.

You looked up at Mallory, expecting her to speak first and explain herself since after all.. shes the one who broke into your apartment but she still remained quiet.. Stalling, you could only guess.

"So, why are you here? How did you even get in here? Is everything okay?" You asked, your words speedy and rushed.

Panic started to temporarily set in when you realized that something could be serisouly wrong with the coven, even though you knew how completly irrational it was to think that way with no evidence. What if witch hunters found them? What if someone preformed the seven wonders and it went wrong? What if the plan had suddenly changed with Michael?

Mallory seemed to pick on how anxious you suddenly were, putting a hand on your upper arm before making you meet her gaze. Her soft, hazel brown eyes immeadietly making your breathe slow. That was another reason you were so thankful for Mallory - the soothing, calming effect she seemed to have on everyone she met was something you never took for granted.. Espically now.

"Hey, nothing's wrong and nothing happened. I promise. I just wanted to see you and talk to you, and I figured we should catch up after Michael basically made me leave," Mallory explained.

You quickly nodded. Feeling guilt start to creep into your system once you remembered how Michael previously treated her.

"Yeah, youre right. I've been wanting to see you anyway and I'm sorry I didnt just call you last night or something.. and I know I cant control him but I'm still sorry for how Michael treated you. I shouldn't have brought you into that-"

"(Y/n), stop," Mallory said urgently. Shaking her head slightly in disagreement with your words. "Sure, Michael was acting like a dick but.. it's nothing I'm not exactly accustomed too. It was harmless," she ended her words with a smile. One that was meant to comfort you both at the epiphany her words brought.

You sat with her words for a moment. The realization suddenly hitting you like a truck-

"Wait.. what? Do you know Michael?"

Mallory fell completely silent. Looking at you almost in a.. guilty manner. Her gaze fell downwards before she looked up to meet yours once more, licking her lips anxiously before she uttered out a quiet reply.

"I wasnt going to tell you because I knew it would make you upset but.. Michael called me last night-"

"And you answered?" Your voice raised up a few octaves unwillingly. Threatening to break as you tried to process what you were hearing.

As much as you wanted to immeadietly jump to conclusions, you had to remind yourself that this was Mallory you were talking too. Your best friend, Mallory. You knew she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

You noticed Mallory was also starting to get tense. Her spine suddenly a bit too straight and her shoulders were rigid. It was nice to know you werent the only person in this situation who was feeling this way, although you would be lying if you were to say that you werent curious for why Mallory felt tense.

"At first, no but he kept calling so I figured it would cause no harm to see what he wanted so, I answered," Mallory said cautiously.

It was obvious she had more to say and as much as you wanted her to keep talking and fully explain herself - you were more than happy that you didnt have to cut her off again. It was too much. This was too much.

You pinched the bridge of your nose before loudly exhaling with a shallow growl. Not really caring that it probably was coming off like you were mad at Mallory when in reality, that wasn’t the case. Mallory wasn’t the problem; you were really just beyond fucking pissed at Michael.

But at this point.. that wasnt new news.

"I told him that we shouldnt be talking, but he insisted," Mallory continued with a shrug.

You tried to sit up straight again; trying to exhale some of the pure fucking anger that was currently coursing through your system. Your vision was spotted black when you opened your eyes - your gaze pointed upwards at the smooth, blank ceiling. Quickly wishing that you were anywhere else, or really anyone else at the moment.

What you wouldnt kill to swap bodies again.. but then again, who knows what the hell Michael was currently doing at the moment.. He couldnt be trusted.

That was more than obvious now.

You should've known that he would contact Mallory, but how he even got her number was beyond you.. Unless-

"How did he even get your number?" You asked. Your tone strikingly calm.

Mallory looked incredibly spooked when your head suddenly snapped over to look at her. As if she was worried you were angry at her still, and as much as you wanted to reassure her otherwise, you really didnt have the energy to do so anymore. Not at the moment anyway.

"You can't be mad when I tell you the answer, okay?" She said softly.

Your features immeadietly softened at her words. The rest of your body relaxed as well; your shoulders dropping and your jaw unclenching.

"Mallory, I could never be mad at you. You could never piss me off, i'm just.. frustrated at Michael. It's not at you, I swear," you said. Trying your best to make your words sound reassuring and genuine.

Mallorys reaction wasnt one that was verbal but immeadite nonetheless. Her arms suddenly shot out and wrapped themselves around you. Her body temporarily pressing into yours as your hands went to her back, before she quickly broke the hug.

"Promise?" Mallory prompted. Brown eyes looking diligently into yours.

"Yeah.. I promise. Just tell me what that idiot did,” you said halfheartedly.

"So.. I've had his number for a while. Not for too long but just since you two switched. But, we never really talked," Her voice stalled as she watched your reaction. Your mouth grew dry as you really tried to let it sink in that they've known eachother since- well for atleast a week. "But I knew immeadietly that it wasnt you.. that day. I'm sorry I lied, but Michael made me promise."

"Why didnt you just tell me?"

Mallory looked at you in a guilty manner. Her lips pursing shut as she looked solemnly at her shoes, avoiding eye contact. You knew exactly why she was being quiet - she didnt want to admit why she had lied but.. the answer was pretty obvious.

Even though Mallory was one of the strongest witches - almost stronger than Cordelia on some days, she still was scared of Michael and that was nothing worth holding a grudge over. After all he was still the antichrist, no matter how (mostly) harmless and idiotic he seemed to you now.

"Okay.. I guess that doesnt really matter," you admitted with a laugh. Figeting with your hands as you heard a shallow laugh omit also from Mallory, which made you smile. The shallow pit that resided in your stomach finally starting to let up. "But.. What did he call you about last night?"

Mallory hesitated again before giving you another subtle smile.

"It was mostly about you.. I know how you feel about him y/n, but its working. I promise you. Hes finally warming up to you. I just wish you could hear how he talks about you,” she spoke. Taking your hands into her soft, warm ones.

"I wish I believed that," You admitted.

"I wouldnt lie to you. Hes finally starting to warm up to you, plus it was obvious yesterday-"

"Yeah; It was obvious how strong he was coming onto you."

Mallory laughed again at your words. Shaking her head slightly in protest.

“Y/n you know that’s not true. The only reason why he was flirting with me was just to get to you.. I thought that was obvious.”

“It was obvious I just.. didn’t know that you knew that. I mean, Michael has Madison.. or he did so you think that would at least satisfy his flirting needs for a bit but.. Michael faking to be interested in you, that would mean he wanted a reaction out of me on purpose? Why would he-“

“You know why. You need to start cutting yourself slack and realize that maybee this rivalry is starting to be one sided.”

You pouted at her words at the realization that they actually held more truth in them than you were willing to admit. If Michael didn’t hate you anymore, if he was truly actually willing to be civil.. then why were you still so upset? Were you the one who was unintentionally causing problems now? Was it now you instead of Michael that was holding the relationship back?

How fucking stupid.

“I can’t trust him, Mallory. How can I when he and Madison literally tried to kill me. I can never forget that they did that to me.”

“I’m not asking you to forget what he did, y/n. I’m just saying that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start having an open mind around him, and see where it gets you.”

You were struck silent, knowing that Mallory was completely right. If you wanted to have any hope at all of making things right with Michael (even though you really didn’t do anything wrong..) you would have to try a different approach because obviously; what you were doing now wasn’t working. Being snarky, and vaguely threatening him every chance you got was fun of course but- it wasn’t working. Even though Mallory was probably the sweetest person you knew, the fact your own best friend had to (very politely) make a intervention was.. not a good sign. Although, you knew Mallory was doing this for your best interest because if she didn’t say anything, then Cordelia certainly would.

And sadly, Mallory was actually right.

If you wanted things with Michael to advance any further; or to advance at all you needed to step things up but, you could always worry about that after Mallory left.

“So what, are you guys besties now or something?” You sneered.

“Shut up!” Mallory said with a laugh, playfully pushing you over a bit. “He’s barely even my acquaintance. The only reason he’s being nice to me is just to get to you, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean that’s the goal-“

“Do you think that’s the only reason?” You interrupted.

Your throat automatically tightened after you spoke, the threat of your words potentially being true coaxing you to silence. Your not sure why the thought of Michael using you made you upset.. it’s not as if you didn’t think he was doing it before but this time it was different. Perhaps it was because you finally thought Michael actually had some type of interest in you.. and to have that suddenly ripped away?

That would leave you beyond broken.. you knew that for certain.

Mallory looked at you solemnly, as if she was already resenting her words before she had to say them outloud.

“Look, I don’t exactly know Michaels intentions and I’m not going to pretend too.. I don’t really think anyone does at this point but I do know that regardless of your feelings, or even his feelings that.. you have to try.”

You let out a loud exhale.

“I mean you said it yourself.. Michaels so unpredictable, there’s no point in guessing how he feels so.. maybe I should just.. ask him?”

Realistically you didn’t know how good of a idea that was- but.. trying to remain realistic was something you gave up on days ago. Pretty much the same day you switched and that definitely wasn’t a coincidence by any means.

As soon as Mallorys mouth opened, you heard three loud knocks. Quick and rapid with no hesitation between them. The apartment nearly shook with the force of whoever happened to be at your door, and you certainly didn’t doubt that your neighbors heard the knocking as well.

Mallory looked at you in utter confusion, but stayed on the bed nonetheless with no sign of getting up. Naturally, you found yourself scooting closer to the end of the bed, knowing it was you who was going to have to get the door.. and that made you scared shitless. Not because you were necessarily scared to open the door but because you had a horribly bad feeling on who was on the other side.. There was only one person that you knew of that was aware of where you lived, and you knew it wasn’t matience or staff.

You knew standing up was the logical thing to do but you still stalled. Hands starting to painfully dig into the soft, expensive sheets that lie underneath you. You mouthed a silent, ‘what the fuck?’ to Mallory but your head snapped back at the door..

Three more knocks which were only louder and more persistent than the last.

“Coming!” You quickly called out.

It was pure anxiety that fueled your next actions. You quickly stood up from the bed, trying to walk hurriedly to the door as fast as you could and trying your damn best not to think.. Hoping Mallory also had a idea of who was at the door and also happened to get the fuck out of view.

You didn’t want a repeat of yesterday happening again today, and you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to slap Michael if he tried to flirt with her again. Even though, you knew you weren’t supposed to act like that anymore.. but why should you have manners if Michael refused them as well?

Opening the door swiftly and without a second thought; you stood breathless as you saw a familiar blonde standing in front of you.

You both stared at each other at first - each not daring to have the balls to say ‘hello’ or anything else for that matter.. You noticed how Michael first eyed you up, fully looking up and down your body (as well as peering behind you, hopefully not making eye contact with Mallory). You made a point to just look into Michaels eyes, refusing to do what he was doing.. whatever the fuck that truly was.

“How did you know I would be here?” You breathed.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d come, but it also never hurt to charm the hotel staff a bit,” Michael responded swiftly without a second beat, almost as if he anticipated your words. His lips upturned slightly at the edges, in a way that nearly made your stomach sick.

“The hotel staff-?!”

“I have connections everywhere y/n, I thought you knew that,” he sneered.

He brushed past you as you continued to stand in shock. Your mouth slightly falling open as Michael took a few steps into your apartment - looking curiously around, almost as if he knew Mallory was here..

“I did.. I think that’s obvious,” you shot back hurriedly. “But thank you for the apartment again, Michael. I still feel weird taking it but it is nice I’ll admit,” you continued. Hoping to make him turn around to look back at you and hopefully not find Mallory.. Which worked. At least for a few seconds at least.

Michael made direct eye contact with you for a moment, almost as if he wanted to speak but was deliberately choosing not too. Instead he turned around, walking in deeper in the apartment.

Your mouth immediately dropped open - your feet carried yourself forward as you started to feel a bit numb with shock- not knowing even in the slightest how you were going to handle the situation if Mallory didn’t fucking move.

Sure enough..

“You always manage to linger.. don’t you?” Michael spoke.

It took only a couple steps for you to fully realize he wasn’t speaking to you. You only saw his backside as you approached them. Quickly meeting Mallorys gaze as you came into view.. Her brown eyes darker than ever as she peered up at you.

This time it is nearly impossible to distinguish whether she looked in agony from Michaels appearance or yours; since you apparently interrupted them. Her gaze quickly returned back to meet Michaels before you could think anything of it.

“I’m not here to see you, Michael.” Mallory announced. Her tone harsher than what you were expecting what apparent friends would use.. Were they even really friends?

Mallory suddenly stood up while Michael was still standing a few feet in front of her. Making eye contact with Michael for a split second before almost ducking around him before she stood in front of you.. leaving Michael speechless behind her. She quickly hugged you, her arms only embracing you for a split second before leaving. It was obvious she was in a hurry to leave now but.. you weren’t sure exactly why.

“I should get going, you and Michael have a lot to talk about,” she subtly smiled before turning to leave.. not letting you reply or have any sort of reaction to her words.

You stood solemnly as you heard Mallory’s footsteps gradually go farther away, before hearing the door open and close. You watched Michaels back as he refused to turn around.

“How was your nice chat with Mallory?”

“Why are you asking? Am I not allowed to see her or something?” You bit back. Your words possibly twice as venomous as his were.

Michael hastily turned around, looking at you with utter disbelief. His blue eyes looking into yours, as if he was suddenly surprised by your tone and how you were acting - as if his behavior didn’t proceeded yours.

“You need to relax,” he snapped. He approached you until he was right in front of you. “I wasn’t asking because I’m trying to control you, I know that’s what your thinking,” His words fell soft until they were nearly inaudible. “I just wanted to ask what she talked to you about.”

“About us?” You prompted.

“Well what else would she be talking to you about,” he snickered. His words spoken as more of a statement than a question. His laughter quickly dwindled off after he saw how rigid your frame suddenly looked. “Kidding. For the most part.. she said she was going to talk to you, and I figured I should actually speak to you this time rather than her.”

“Are you.. actually trying to trust me, Michael Langdon?” You teased. A smile, as well as laughter escaped from your lips at the mere thought.

Even though the thought was amusing on its own, you still didn’t completely trust him. Even now when he had Mallorys trust (for the most part), you still didn’t doubt that he had a ulterior motive.

Michael finally stepped back, hesitantly breaking eye contact before inaudibly beckoning you to follow him.

“I’m trying, just like how I told you I would,” He hauntingly reminded you.

You followed him silently to the long leather couch that sat by the overly expansive windows. Sitting down next to him in a way that felt almost too casual.. but being casual around Michael and not borderline fearing for your life was something you would have to adjust too.

You noticed how he instantly slipped his shoes off; drawing up his feet on the couch.. his arms and as well the rest of him contained. Away from you.

“So if your trying.. now,” you suggested uncertainly. “Then.. tell me why you came here to talk suddenly again? I mean why not just go through Mallory again like you’ve doing previously?”

“(Y/n), please. Take me seriously and just trust me for once,” His words came out quick and stern as he spoke them. “I was being serious yesterday, as well as all the other times when I told you I wanted to start.. putting effort in and trying.”

You stared at Michael utterly dumbfounded.. Feeling a bit hopeless that you actually felt almost.. touched by his words. That’s if he was actually being serious, anyway.

“What does trying mean to you?” You asked carefully. Your mind naturally went back to Madison.. were they even broken up yet? Was that even something that Michael was willing to do for you, and how was that something you could just ask? “What about-“

“Madison’s fine. She’s fine.. with everything,” he replied hesitantly.

You simply ignored the fact that he seemed to pick up what you were talking about almost immeadietly.. focusing on rather the latter part of the sentence.. that she was okay with everything?

“So she knows? That you’re here?”

“Yeah. She knows but that’s besides the point. Madison isn’t a part of the equation anymore, I don’t want to talk about her,” He spoke as if his words were final and not to be argued with, but his tone wasn’t angry. He was just done.. and you were too.

You wish that wasn’t the case though. Cutting Madison off didn’t sit right with you in the slightest, and it would definitely have to be something that would have to be mended later. That was a given.

Madison and Michaels relationship was far too close for them to suddenly split and remain like that forever - it was temporary, but so is everything really. That shouldn’t phase you but - it still managed too.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ you started.

“It’s fine. I knew you would ask.. She’s the reason why I’m here actually,” His eyes broke contact and averted down to his hands. “I don’t mean that as in I’m not here to see you but, it was something she said that brought me here.” He continued, his voice almost growing soft now at just the mention of his ex girlfriend.. and now, you felt like you actually were starting to understand his point of view. Not fully but, it was clear that Michael was trying to be more open with you, and this time he wasn’t ‘fake’ drunk.

It took nearly everything in you to not immeadietly retort but just like the night where you were at the party; you tried to fully hear him out since this was apparently one of the few times he was being civil.

“So Madison gave you advice and you actually took it?” You said while laughing softly. Trying to lighten the mood since Michael seemed to be brooding.

Michael didn’t laugh back but instead his gaze flickered up to meet yours for a moment. The corners of his mouth upturning in a shallow smile that only lasted for a few seconds.

“I did because it made sense.” He said, his tone still remaining serious. You noticed how careful he was being with his words.. something that was typical for Michael to do but this time it seemed a bit too deliberate. You wanted to ask what exactly Madison even told him to do but.. that felt wrong. “It was also the right thing to do.. Being close to you is something I should’ve done a while ago, probably immeadietly-“

“But what’s in the past; stays in the past. And since your so adamant about being close to me.. we can always try now,” you cut in.

Michael continued to sit a good distance away from you; you thought it was ironic how he could talk about wanting to get close with you but wouldn’t dare to move any closer. That thought made your pride a little bit too happy.

Right before he could open his mouth to say something; his phone rang. The sound suddenly earsplitting and blaring but Michael didn’t bother to flinch. Instead he stood up and answered his phone.. making sure to nearly trek across the apartment before he said anything into the phone.

You stretched and casually examined him as he talked, you had a feeling who it was on the line..

After how tense things were with Mallory - you knew they probably weren’t going to be on friendly terms anytime soon.. especially in front of you. And judging by how.. oddly relaxed he seemed (yet timid when he caught your gaze and realized you were staring), it had to be one person.

You were about to sink back into the couch and try your best to not speculate what they were talking about, but before you could fully turn - you realized Michael was sauntering towards you.. clearly still on the phone.

Oh fuck.

Before you could ask what was wrong, the look he gave you alone ushered you to silence.

He quickly held the phone away from his ear. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that the call was still active.

“You said you forgive Madison.. right?” He spoke lowly. His words barely audible, more so mouthing the words than actually speaking them.

You looked at him with a expression you’re sure looked as if you were furious but you were really just completely confused. You wanted to ask but.. there was no time if she was on the phone, but knowing what you were about to get yourself into would also be nice to know.

His eyes had since lost the sharpness that had nearly cut you earlier, instead swarming with urgency and a bit of panic.. It had to be Madison. The only person that could ever have that effect on Michael was Madison.

You simply nodded in response. Not trusting yourself to speak quietly outloud but you also didn’t exactly trust your response because it wasn’t exactly truthful, but Michael seemed to be level headed.. for now.

Michael immeadietly turned and held the phone back up to his ear, this time staying in closer proximity and within ear shot. Putting on his shoes as he continued to hold the conversation he was having.

“Okay

...

So when are you coming?

...

Great, see you then. . . Bye.”

If you didn’t just hear the words that you thought you had heard.. you knew under normal circumstances your heart would’ve ached when you realized how Michael hesitated before he said goodbye, most likely catching himself before he said ‘I love you’. Instead though, you felt a gruesome wave of nausea suddenly rise through you.. urging you to shakily stand up and speak without thinking.

“She’s coming to see you?”

Michael barely gave you a second glance as he turned around and started to head for the front door of the apartment.

“Yes. You’ll be seeing her too, don’t worry.” He spoke before he quickly let the door shut behind him.

You continued to stand, utterly speechless.

Part of you wanted to run after him and the other part merely wanted to scream in anger that he had already made fucking plans but instead you felt numb. Numb and calm.

You returned to your bag and unpacked, trying your best to not let your emotions consume you like they previously had too many times.. until you finally broke down and called Mallory.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @langdons-pinkyring @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @mindlesschicca

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#michael x reader #Michael Langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #Michael Langdon #my fic #Imminient Annihilation #hopefully y’all like this and it’s not all over the place djdjd #about to post to ao3 like always #ALSO thank u for the 2k hits on ao3!! 🥺💖#also side note - Jennifer’s body was amazing and now I wanna write something related 😭

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emersonfreepress · 3 years

Note

What would the ro's be like in a zombie au?

whyyyyy anon whyyy. I'm actually gonna write this in like.. slightly different terms, you'll see. any time I even briefly think of a zombie au I'm just like

I WANNA WRITE IT SO BADDD

i don't even allow myself to entertain it for very long because getting into that would be the worst thing ever for my productivity with the alpha omg 😂😂 so I'll put like the ideas that pop into my head for writing a zombie au, to work some of that creative frustration out 😆

so in this very general, absolutely noncommittal idea of mine, the main cast are older and the setting is in and around a civilian settlement led by the Emersons.

and as a refresher, i like my zombie aus to have fast zombies and fast infections ^ ^ 28 Days Later/Train to Busan style babyyyy, we the Sprinting Dead up in this bitch 😆

= = =

Gabe is, predictably, looking for what's left of his family. Following rumors of safe havens and bunkers and such. Starts the story as someone who tries to be diplomatic, if not outright pacifist, but as times get tougher and resources dwindle, he'd become one of the most cutthroat motherfuckers in the wasteland. Low-key though, low-key. People won't trust you if they know you’re capable of throwing them to a horde for strategic reasons. Like if Rick turned into Shane (for those of us familiar with early Walking Dead--idk did that happen eventually? i gave up before we even met Negan lol). The end justifies the means :) Damn, I can legit see Gabe going full evil in a zombie au omg 😂😂 i want to write it so fucking bad

Preferred weapon for zed encounters: rifle

Preferred weapon for human encounters: handgun

Faith in humanity: fucking zero

Zombie kill count: plenty; the type to kill every zombie he has spare ammo and time for

Human kill policy: When it benefits him or the people he’s looking after

Survival rating: B+; he can make it out of some pretty dire situations through sheer will to live and ruthlessness

- - -

Kile has arrived--clearly, this is the timeline they belong in. They start their journey with Gabe (and their doggo) and stick to him like glue, even reluctantly so when Gabe eventually has them join the settlement. This can only go one way, though: Kile's just too much of a wildcard for the group and hates being told what to do. (Especially now that society has fallen, wtf) They'd make their exit alone and unannounced aside from a brief head’s up to Gabe. It's slightly bittersweet, but also? They get to loot and hunt and sneak around and kill fucking zombies, all by themself. Kile is a loner, a hiker, and a hunter to begin with so they do beyond fine on their own. However, once the inevitable violent human threat comes for the settlement, Gabe is sent out to convince Kile to come out of isolation, just this once please, to be the camp’s super soldier help defend the camp.

Zed weapon: p much anything they can get their hands on, ranged or melee, blunt or sharp, w/e; improvised weapons

Human weapon: hunting knife

Faith in humanity: never had any to begin with

Zombie kill count: lol infinite?? any zed they come across is double-dead if they have the time for it

Human kill policy: at Gabe’s direction or when provoked enough/threatened

Survival rating: A-; they trust no one, live in isolation, and prioritize survival above all else. only reason it’s not higher is they would risk their life for Gabe or their furbaby and also... their own Rambo-esque antics def attracts the occasional horde lmao

- - -

Jack... this poor boy, he doesn't deserve a zombie au 😂 He's one of those people that first believes zombies are just sick people, too squeamish to keep up with TV news coverage at the onset and too upset to consider anything else. He'd hunker down at home, staying holed up even while his neighbors evacuated, and probably be discovered while the main group is looting the same place as him. When people try to tell him the real state of the world, he'd be in denial until he absolutely couldn't be anymore. idk, probably after Kile shooting a bunch of non-lethal holes thru a zombie to make a point (attracting more in the process lol).

He’d almost immediately join the medical team at the settlement and as word spreads about how easy he is to talk to, he quickly becomes the literal on-site therapist. It's a role he embraces but... idk if it's an emotional burden he can bear. He's very emotionally resilient! But he ain't a professional lol imagine a whole settlement of traumatized zombie survivors seeking you out for counseling, yikes. He also can't say no to a person in need, so instead he quietly spirals into a very private depression while continuing to help others!!

Zed weapon: Oh gosh, do I really have to?

Human weapon: ...Kindness?

Faith in humanity: Unrealistically high

Zombie kill count: Single digit

Human kill policy: Not ever, unless completely unavoidable and to defend the defenseless

Survival rating: C...? idk, that feels generous. D+. To be protected at all costs!!

- - -

Jessie also had the initial reaction of hoping zombies could be saved, but she woke up from that dream swiftly. The science-minded person that she is, esp with her interest in biology, leaves her determined to find anybody who's got the intellect, expertise, and resources to start doing actual work toward a treatment, cure, vaccine—anything. Nothing would get her to finally unabashedly embrace her love of science (and innate leadership skills!!) faster than a zombie apocalypse! In fact, it’s thanks to her that the Emerson settlement’s got a small but growing team of scientists doing as much research as humanly possible to best educate the others on the outbreak and zombie behavior. Def no zombie experimentation going on though lol. ...Not yet, at least.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: rifle

Faith in humanity: High! We’ll find a solution! Don’t give up hope!

Zombie kill count: Double digits, but less than 30

Human kill policy: Only in unavoidable self-defense or defense of others

Survival rating: B! She has experience with ranged weapons, farming and gardening skills, first aid, camping experience, and a can-do attitude with a healthy dose of realism!

- - -

Rain remains cargo as I said in the last post about this 😆 They'd be very good for keeping clothes repaired and making useful modifications in the settlement, but their life up to this point has been very sheltered and privileged. We're talking somebody with a chauffeur and a personal chef before the outbreak! They would contribute to quality of life and homemaking efforts more than anything—an overlooked aspect of these scenarios tbh! After as many months of dragging their feet as possible and being nigh impossible to track down when you need them, they eventually become involved in meal planning and even help out with medical stuff if they're asked.

Zed weapon: how do you reload this thing again?

Human weapon: switchblade or other concealable sharp-pointy

Faith in humanity: Very low

Zombie kill count: 0! Can you believe it!

Human kill policy: Well if it’s you or me, of course I’m choosing me.

Survival rating: C. Being so tiny helps them find good hiding spots and their self-preservation is high enough to keep them from unnecessary risk-taking. Plus they're very stealthy! Self-defense is a major issue though, so hiding is always their best option.

- - -

Rupan/Rohan scouts for and leads scavenging missions and is Curt's right hand on the recruitment team. The two of them together are the perfect combo of diplomacy, debate, and deception--although R is more honorable about the last one and will only deceive for strategic reasons. When they aren’t looting and recruiting, they’re doing peacekeeping inside the settlement. Most social disputes end up getting brought to them for mediation and they’re pretty dang good at making and enforcing calls. One day they’ll wake up to realize they’ve basically become a sheriff and feel the need to puke their guts up and do something, anything, to reassure themself they’re still punk 😂

Zed weapon: SMG

Human weapon: shotgun

Faith in humanity: Believes in fundamental goodness but knows better than to trust first impressions

Zombie kill count: decent, more than 40; you won’t catch them having a field day tho, they’re trying to gtfo of most zed situations

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. And they aren’t, at all, immune to a revenge rampage either...

Survival rating: B-. Can handle themself both with humans and zeds but is vulnerable to hostage situations and truly difficult sentimental/interpersonal decisions!

- - -

Vivian/Vincent manages inventory and stock and they run it so efficiently it’s scary! They're the perfect pick: a hawk-eyed tyrant and tattletale 😂 Despite constantly butting heads with just about everyone on every imaginable thing, they quickly become an important part of the inner circle of decision-makers for the settlement at large. Terrible at stealth, jumpy, and squeamish at the sight of blood and gore, they literally never go on missions unless they're 100% needed for their expertise on a supply run. (They would deny all of these shortcomings are that big a problem, meanwhile R is definitely acting as their bodyguard lol.) When they do tag along, they're prone to becoming the damsel in distress. Seriously, it happens near every fucking time. It's like they just attract only the most improbable and perilous zombie attacks and hostage situations 😆

Zed weapon: shotgun

Human weapon: handgun

Faith in humanity: Medium; seeing people work together at the settlement helps restore it a bit

Zombie kill count: Double digits, under 25

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. Well, no, not by me! Get one of the ruffians to do it!

Survival rating: C-. They’d be higher if they weren’t such natural zombie bait.

- - -

Heidi is running the settlement, well-organized to the degree of actually managing to bring bureaucracy to a post-zombie apocalypse settlement 😂 People are free to come and go, but getting in if you don't live there requires trading something of value (fuel, med supplies, food, etc), temporary surrender and registry of firearms and explosives, and you gotta GTFO at the time and date specified upon entry! You can stay long-term if you contribute to the community in a tangible way—and each person admitted is approved by Heidi personally. Yes, every individual. No, she has no free time. And she is not known to be lenient with rule breakers—you want rule bending, you’ll have to go to Curt for that. People kind of hate her, but it can't be denied that she runs a tight ship. She kind of throws herself into the work to avoid the harsher reality at large and hasn't left the settlement in a long time. She's out of touch with how bad things have gotten in the wastes, but she knows better than to take reports at anything less than face value--even when she's skeptical.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: handgun; dagger

Faith in humanity: Medium. It fluctuates, honestly

Zombie kill count: Double digits, less than 20

Human kill policy: Violent threats must be taken out if they can’t be reasoned with. Spare those who surrender, eradicate those who don't, keep an eye on the newbies. Not tryin’ to nurse any vendettas around here lol

Survival rating: B. She's good with a firearm, masterful at persuasion, and savvy enough to calculate risks appropriately. Also far tougher than her prim exterior and demeanor suggests!

- - -

Curt leads the recruitment and reconnaissance teams! When a new person or group shows up in the area, Curt's the one who stalks watches them, decides if they're worth approaching, and if they should be approached with an invitation, a simple acknowledgment/announcement of their presence, or an outright armed warning to leave the area. He also keeps tabs on morale and general confidence inside the settlement, alongside R. When he isn’t leading those efforts, though, he’s flirting with settlers and squirreling his way out of manual labor and other chores. He’s also secretly growing weed at his place--don’t tell Heidi or Vi ‘cause they’ll wanna yell at him and ration it UGH.

Zed weapon: SMG, explosives

Human weapon: handgun, dagger

Faith in humanity: Pft, sorry, what now?

Zombie kill count: ...way more than you’d expect

Human kill policy: I don’t start confrontations, but I sure as fuck end them.

Survival rating: A! He’s good at playing hapless idiot when it suits him to be underestimated, good with firearms, and capable of being ruthless and decisive in life or death situations! Plus he has no qualms about ditching the settlement if he decides it’s not working out for him. Just don’t tell Heidi lol

#the rest are under the cuuuut #had to stop myself from writing too much SEVERAL times #love me a zombie apocalypse #lovely anon #answered #ROs #whoops got carried away lol #spent most of my work day finally finishing this ask because VIVA PROCRASTINATION #someone help ._.#phew #feels good to finally get it out of my system tho #now I can promptly never ever write it 😂#AUs #fave #scenarios

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

Text

Broken Trust

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say.

Tag to 2x02. Mac didn't walk away from his encounter with Jack as unscathed as he might wish to appear.

Also on AO3

Mac knew he was being stupid.

Yes, Jack threatening him with violence was no small matter and he was certainly justified in his surprise and betrayal, but he knew that he shouldn’t read any further into it. Jack had just been worried about Riley and hadn’t been thinking straight and in all likelihood, that was absolutely all it was. There was no deeper meaning, no hidden message. He shouldn’t be dwelling on it. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting on his deck at 3:30 in the morning contemplating all the times Jack had promised to have his back, to keep him safe, only to immediately turn on him when Mac put himself between his Overwatch and someone Jack cared about more.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get it: Jack had technically known Riley for far longer than he’d known Mac and he’d cared for her when she’d been a child – of course he was going to feel paternal. Mac had never been under any illusion that the relationship he had with Jack would outweigh that and he wouldn’t want it to, but he’d kind of thought that he still at least ranked somewhere near the top. Was that being presumptuous? A few days ago he wouldn’t have doubted it for a second, but now he couldn’t help but think maybe he’d been projecting his own feelings onto Jack and the reality of the situation was actually nothing like he’d thought it was.

But, then again, that was just a little overly dramatic, no? Jack had proven willing to go to the mat for Mac time and again, and this was the first time since their ill-fated meeting that the man had ever seemed willing to come to blows with him. They’d rib and tease each other, but he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times there’d been true animosity between them. Mac’s quiet crisis of faith was surely nothing more than an overactive imagination and a history of being second choice to the people he loved.

And even if he wasn’t imagining anything, Jack had apologised for all of it – or at least he’d tried to. In the end, despite having waited to hear it, Mac had found that he just couldn’t stomach the thought of listening to Jack try to justify himself, to directly tell him that his loyalty to the woman who was basically his daughter was more important to him than his loyalty to Mac. Instead he’d shut down the apology before it could reach the light of day, brushing off Jack’s concern with a shrug and an easy smile. Better to let everyone think that it really was no big deal and was easily put behind them, no matter how far that might be from the truth. If Jack had had any notion of how badly Mac had been flying to pieces inside his own head, he hadn’t shown it.

So far as Mac could tell, everyone had mutually agreed that the whole thing had been a bizarre incident of heightened emotions with no deeper meaning and they could all quite happily sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. If only things were so simple for him.

It shouldn’t matter, he knew that. Jack had been going out of his mind with worry and Mac knew better than anyone how much he could overreact if someone he cared about was in trouble but at the same time… He’d put Mac in trouble. Mac wasn't in any doubt that if Riley hadn’t chosen that particular moment to convince Bedlam to trust her, he would be nursing a black eye – or worse – by now.

Worse still was that Bozer had also been in the unfortunate position of having to get between Jack and Riley that very same day and he’d managed to walk away entirely clean. Mac was unendingly grateful for that of course and he’d never wish any harm on his friend, but he couldn’t deny that it stung to know Jack wouldn’t raise a hand against Boze when he’d been perfectly happy to against Mac barely an hour earlier.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair for the hundredth time, huffing out a heavy breath as he battled to get his thoughts under control. This was normally what Jack was good at, helping him to get out of his own head and see the truth of things so he could work through the problem, but even if it hadn’t been the early hours, Mac wasn’t about to disturb him with this. Either he was wrong and being paranoid and there really wasn’t anything to worry about, or he was right and asking about it would mean having to hear one of his worst fears realised.

He wasn’t really up to confronting either outcome tonight.

Instead he was stuck out here, unable to sleep but too tied up in knots to try doing anything productive. The best he could manage was sitting beside the unlit firepit with a beer he hadn’t touched once. Letting himself go and getting drunk was distantly tempting, but work tomorrow was going to be tough enough as it was without throwing a hangover into the mix. Besides, if he did that, then people were going to ask questions and there really was no unembarrassing way of saying ‘I’ve been having a bit of a breakdown because a man I considered a brother nearly punched me in the face and I’m having to rethink a decade-long relationship.’

Mac’s usual approach to emotional problems had always been resorting to logic – with mixed results. It was all well and good to explain his childhood dog’s perpetual escape attempts as animal instinct rather than personal dislike, but it became a lot more complicated when he tried to pinpoint the reason a man would abandon his only son and never look back. Unfortunately, this problem looked like it was going to fall into the latter category.

The facts were thus: Jack loved Riley like a daughter; Riley had been in imminent, but not certain, danger; Mac had put himself between the two; Jack had chosen to disregard what Mac was saying in favour of physically moving him aside so he could reach Riley.

There was no logic in the world that could explain that away without demeaning Mac’s relationship with Jack in a way that was deeply hurtful.

It wasn’t a competition and even thinking of it in those terms left Mac swallowing down guilt and disgust at his own neediness. Jack cared loudly and widely; he was in possession of a heart so large, Mac was quite certain he could love a hundred people equally without breaking a sweat. It was no great stretch or challenge to accept that Jack was capable of loving both Riley and Mac, and that those two things had absolutely nothing to do with each other. There was nothing unreasonable about that.

So it wasn’t a competition, but if it had been then Mac had very definitely lost.

God, he needed to get it together. He was self-aware enough to realise that the only real path forward here was to forgive Jack the minor transgression and move on, accepting it for what it had been without trying to place any excess baggage onto it. If he really couldn’t manage that alone, Jack would no doubt be willing to offer the apology he’d tried to give earlier, should Mac reveal his concerns. Nothing anyone said or did would take back what had happened, and wishing otherwise was childish. He just needed to put it behind him.

Then again, that evidently wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He’d ended up out on the deck sometime around midnight, waiting sleeplessly in his bed until Bozer was well and truly unconscious before sneaking out, driven by a vague desire for air and a need to see the stars. He was only one for two on that – a heavy blanket of cloud had managed to erase the few bright night sparks that usually managed to make it past the light pollution – but that wasn’t such a bad score. At the very least, the still quiet made a nice contrasting balm to his inner turmoil.

The quiet didn’t last however – the hour hand on Mac’s watch had just started creeping past 4 when he heard the purr of a familiar engine pulling up outside and he breathed a long sigh. He had no idea what had drawn Jack there – he’d often joked about having a sixth sense when Mac was in trouble, but he couldn’t possibly have known about this – and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. He toyed with the idea of slipping back into his bedroom before Jack had a chance to make it into the house, but he was sufficiently torn that he was still contemplating that course of action when he heard the door unlatch.

There were a few moments of quiet footsteps tracing through the house, first checking on the bedrooms and then, after presumably finding Mac’s empty, more hurried movement until the door to the deck squeaked open and Jack’s boots appeared in the corner of Mac’s vision. Exhausted and frankly too tired to even try to pretend otherwise, Mac didn’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly. His whole evening had felt fragile and a superstitious part of him he’d never been able to ditch warned that it was in danger of shattering if he didn’t speak softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was the equally gentle reply. “You?”

“It’s been a long few days.” The words sounded heavy, containing too much meaning. He took an unenthusiastic swig of beer to cover it. “There’s more in the fridge if you want one,” he added, shaking the bottle a little.

“Little early to start drinking, isn't it?”

“To be fair, it was late when I started.”

“…I think that might make it worse hoss.”

He snorted indelicately and took another pull. Now that he’d started drinking it, he found himself vaguely comforted by the familiar flavour. There wasn’t enough alcohol in it to do more than warm him, but the sensation wasn’t unwelcome.

Jack seemed to sigh, then his boots disappeared as he worked his way around behind Mac to sit beside him on the lip of the firepit. Now on the same level, Mac couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. He looked as tired as Mac felt, so he said as much.

His Overwatch offered an unconvincing smile. “I’ll have you know that I look good no matter what,” he replied, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. “Truth be told, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse.”

That raised concern. “Are you getting ill? I think I’ve still got some of those antipyretics in the cupboard-”

He made a jerking motion to get to his feet, but Jack waved him back down before he could go anywhere. “Nah, it’s nothing man, don’t worry about it. It’s just like you said – been a long few days. Think I’m still working through it all.”

Mac felt his heart sink in his chest. Of all the conversations he didn’t want to have right that second. “I know how much you didn’t want Riley out there. I can’t imagine how stressful this has all been,” he said, aiming for compassionate and just barely hitting the mark. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Jack, weirdly, looked sheepish. “You and me both kid, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

There was a pause as Mac processed that and came up empty. “Oh?”

Despite the fact that whatever was going on in Jack’s head had been fierce enough to drive him all the way to Mac’s house in the middle of the night, he suddenly looked tremendously uncertain. One hand snaked up to rub at the back of his neck, dragging his head down so that he didn’t have to maintain eye contact. Mac half expected him to start shifting in his seat.

“Jack? What’s going on?”

He sighed gustily, apparently rooting around for his courage, and met Mac’s gaze again. “Look, I know you brushed it off before and I appreciate your understanding and all that but-” He hesitated ever so briefly, then the rest came pouring out of him like he couldn’t stop it. “Man, I was way out of line yesterday. Like so far past the line I couldn’t even see it any more. Yeah I was stressed about Riley and I ain’t ever going to be sorry for looking out for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that for a split second I was willing to go through you to do it. There’s nothing that could ever make that right and I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.”

He broke his gaze away again, bringing up his other hand to bury his face in his palms in pained desperation. Mac blinked at him in surprise, utterly stunned.

“And it’s stupid anyway because I know how much you care about Riley and me, and I know that you were trying to stop me to protect us both – I should have just seen-” He bit himself off, grumbled, pressed on more calmly: “I was so focused on my own inability to see what Riley could do that I lost sight of her, the mission, and you. It’s my job to keep you safe – that’s my only job – and I was so far out of my own head that I put you in danger because of my own stupidity. There is nothing about that that’s okay and even if you don’t need me to say it, I had to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m not expecting forgiveness because shit, I really messed it up this time, but for whatever it’s worth, I swear I’ll never do that again.”

Mac forced himself to swallow, desperately willing his exhausted brain to kick itself into gear and process everything Jack had just dumped on him. When he’d considered asking for an apology after all, this hadn’t been quite what he had in mind. In response to it, all he could manage was a sort of stunned silence.

Jack rubbed at his face one last time, then pulled himself upright again and forcefully met Mac’s eyes. He looked as though he was bracing for a hit, but he didn’t flinch. Mac, for his part, had absolutely no idea what he was possibly supposed to say.

A part of him desperately wanted to grasp the lifeline he was being offered, accept the explanation as the reassurance it was evidently meant to be, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After a lifetime of those he cared about proving that Mac was a very easy person to leave, some self-preservation instinct was finally picking up its head and warning him not to trust so blindly. A few days ago he had been utterly certain that Jack would never willingly hurt him – now, he knew what it was to hear his Overwatch’s voice dip low and threatening, warning him that if he didn’t step aside, he was going to get hurt. He knew what it was to go cold at the humiliation he’d felt when faced with a thoroughly dismissive, ‘Boy, get out of my face.’ He knew what it was to have Jack look at him and see nothing but an obstacle in his way.

Hours too late and in the worst possible moment, Mac suddenly realised that the anger he’d been quietly cultivating wasn’t really anger at all.

As he always seemingly managed to do, Jack chose that same moment to pick up on the fact that something had gone wrong with his partner, because his earnestness immediately dropped away behind guilty concern. He hesitated for several heartbeats, absorbing whatever was going on in Mac’s expression, then tilted his head consideringly. “When you stopped me apologising earlier,” he said very slowly, “You didn’t mean it when you said it was fine, did you?”

Mac forced himself to shrug, trying to shake looseness into limbs that had frozen in place. “Like I said, Riley’s lucky to have you. You were just watching out for her.”

“Yeah, and throwing you under the bus in the process. God, I almost- I could have hurt you Mac.”

Now was probably a very bad time to reveal that he had hurt him. At least the bruises were in places easy to hide.

“You didn’t,” he lied instead, running his eyes over the skyline rather than let Jack see the mistruth in them. “I appreciate the apology, I really do, but I understand. Riley’s family, Jack, of course you’re going to do everything you can to defend her.”

Jack let out a humourless snort. “You say that like you’re not every bit as much my family as she is.”

There was a sudden, telling silence. Jack blinked. Mac’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

“You- You do know that… right?” Jack said haltingly, his voice so quiet as to be almost unheard even in the silence. When there was no immediate response, it turned more forceful. “Mac, tell me you know that.”

He swallowed hard. In the face of such honest concern, Mac couldn’t bring himself to lie or to brush it off, but at the same time he had no idea how to explain the tangle of thorns in his head without sounding as stupid as he was afraid he was being.

“Jack,” he started carefully, weighing up the words as he went, “We’ve been partners for years now. I know how important that is and I’m grateful for it every day, but… But you knew Riley when she was just a kid.” He twitched his hands in a vague attempt at encompassing the sheer scale of their relationship. “I get that things have been kind of weird between the two of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s basically your daughter. I should never have tried to get in the middle of that.”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, I would have gotten her killed,” Jack shot back immediately. “You did everything right Mac. I’m the one who fucked up here.”

There wasn’t a lot Mac could really say to that since it was technically accurate, but he was spared the effort by Jack refusing to take the bait of his deflection.

“And besides,” he continued firmly, “That’s not even slightly the point here. You- You really don’t think that I see you as family?”

Goddamn it he sounded hurt and that was so not what Mac had been going for. He sucked in a breath and cursed himself when it shook. “That’s not- That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” he managed lamely, wanting to reassure but deeply unwilling to make any presumptions. That was precisely what had gotten him into this mess.

Jack’s eyes were dark and sad and knowing. Mac could scarcely stand to look at them. “Maybe not, but it’s what you’re thinking, right? You’ve got it in your head that everything that happened was because Riley’s more important to me than you?”

Hearing the words said aloud in such a level, careful tone sent a rush of blazing shame right through him. It sounded so pathetic when put so simply. This time the anger that burned hot on its heels was genuine, though aimed more at himself than anyone else. He shook his head sharply as though to rid himself of the feeling but he still couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes when he said, “No. I know it doesn’t work like that. I’m not some kid in need of coddling Jack. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re tired because you’re sitting on your deck at four in the morning instead of sleeping, and I’ve known you long enough to know that happens when you can’t get something out of your head. So, if I’m wrong, what is it? Because it has been a shitty few days but somehow I get the feeling this isn’t about a missing EMP or you having to figure us a way out of a crashing plane with no chutes.” His expression was complicated; some combination of worried and open, like he was pleading with Mac to just speak with him. “C’mon Mac. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Mac shook his head slowly, too many thoughts crowding in at once to make sense of anything. “Jack-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Mac-” Jack bit off whatever he was about to say in frustration, shaking himself. “God I really fucked up. Should’ve known you’d come to the worst possible conclusion. Never did know your own worth.” He ran a tired hand over his face, then drew himself upright and faced Mac head on, a rare seriousness shining in his eyes. “Okay, this is something I clearly should be saying more often since you still don’t seem to believe it but, you’re my brother Mac. You’re every bit as much my family as Ri is and I know that I made you doubt that, but it never for one second stopped being true. You hear me? I’m so sorry for what I did outside that warehouse – you didn’t deserve it one bit and I should never have done it. But it didn’t mean what you’re thinking it did.”

“I’m not thinking anything Jack,” he said quietly, even while his brain raced away from him. He wanted so, so badly to believe what he was hearing and Jack had sworn long ago to always be honest with him. To Mac’s knowledge he’d never once broken that promise…

But it was also exactly what Mac wanted to hear. Of course he was going to be inclined to believe it.

“That’s never once been true and you know it,” Jack shot back, not losing an ounce of his seriousness.

Mac didn’t rise to the implied joke. A sudden swell of frustration at Jack’s presumption climbed his throat and he was scoffing before he could help himself. “Tell me then,” he said sharply. “What exactly is it I’m thinking?”

Jack flinched lightly at the acid in his tone, but he held Mac’s gaze steadily like he was prepared to take any blow he threw his way. “I’ve never tried to pretend I can follow everything that goes through your head hoss. I don’t have near the IQ for that. But I think even you’d agree that I’ve gotten pretty good at following you.”

Mac’s face tried to twitch into a scowl but he forced it down with a will of iron.

His partner continued without interruption. “Now maybe I’m overstepping here, but I’m gonna bet that right now you’re feeling angry and hurt because you trusted me and I let you down. I let you down real bad.” There, he did hesitate very slightly, before deciding to voice what they both already knew. “I know I’m not the first person to do that, not by a long shot. You’ve had to deal with all kinds of shit you never deserved, but betrayal isn’t something anyone gets used to.”

Burgeoning anger aside, that felt like a step too far. Mac shook his head sharply. “You didn’t betray anyone-”

“Yes, I did,” he cut in firmly. “I betrayed your trust. I promised to protect you, but I got so caught up in my own bullshit hang-ups that I broke that promise. You’ve got every reason to be pissed as all hell about that Mac, don’t let anyone tell you you don’t.”

“You were just trying to help Riley,” Mac said again, sounding weak to his own ears. Everything Jack was saying was everything he’d thought he’d needed to hear, but now that it was all laid out so plainly before him, the only sensation he could summon was bittersweet resignation. Jack wasn’t wrong - he felt betrayed.

“Yeah, maybe. That’s not an excuse.”

There was a long, still pause. “No,” he finally admitted quietly. “It isn’t.”

The corners of Jack’s eyes were damp when he nodded, accepting and agreeing with that in equal measure. He looked crushed. “And you deserve every apology I can give you for that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to take a swing at me.”

Mac shot him a dark look, irritated by the joke, but he found only seriousness in Jack’s face; he’d meant it. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, offended at the implication.

“I know you won’t,” Jack soothed carefully. “I’m just trying to say - very badly - that I do know how badly I’ve fucked this up. I broke a promise to you that I swore my life on and you know I don’t take that sort of thing lightly. I can’t ever explain how sorry I am for it, but I can spend every moment you let me trying to make up for it.”

They let that sit between them for a long few minutes. Mac felt torn; even with the anger and hurt and fucking devastation rocking around in his chest he could admit that Jack was saying everything right. The real question then was whether or not Mac could trust it when Jack had already blindsided him once.

His Overwatch’s smile was bleak and pained. “I can see that brain of yours whirring away,” he said at length. “Trying to work out if I’m telling the truth, huh?”

As he said it, his façade crumbled ever so slightly and for just a moment, he looked deeply, unbearably sad. Like he knew he’d earned every inch of that mistrust and was regretting it with every fibre of his being. In all their time together, Mac had seen Jack wear that expression exactly once: a thousand years ago in an Italian hospital room as he told a barely conscious Mac that Nikki hadn’t made it. The context might have been different, but those eyes- their grief was the same.

That- that Mac could believe. No one who looked like Jack did in that moment could be insincere. Jack was a hell of a good liar when he needed to be – requirement of the job, really – but the raw, honest heartbreak in that expression was not something even he could fake. For the first time since Jack walked towards him with violence in his eyes, Mac found that he could trust this, if nothing else.

No matter what had happened between them, how readily Jack had been willing to throw away every promise he’d ever made to Mac, he could see the evidence of his regret right in front of him. It didn’t undo what he’d done, not by a long shot, but it was… something.

Something important.

Maybe something so important it was really the only thing that actually mattered.

There was no amount of words that could entirely mend the hurt that Jack had wrought that day, but perhaps they were enough to start the process. Jack was right here, swearing to do better, and despite a lifetime of reasons not to trust an offer like that, Mac couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth. For now, perhaps that had to be enough. Healing always came with time and with Jack willing to make amends, Mac had a feeling that they’d get there together in the end.

He sucked in a hard breath, and finally, finally forced himself to let his anger and hurt go. They would do nothing for him now.

“I believe you,” he said, and meant it. He caught Jack’s eye. “And I accept your apology. My own messed up head aside, I do know that you were only trying to protect Riley.”

“Hey now, your head’s doing just fine. I’m the one tying it up in knots, even when I should know better. You’ve been given plenty of reason to think the worst of people in your life Mac. That it’s not your first response is- well. Incredible, I guess. I don’t blame you a bit for not trusting me after… Everything.”

Mac’s eyes dropped to the floor again, feeling oddly self-conscious about how easily Jack was able to see through him. It was always easy to forget how little time they had really known each other when Jack could look at him and immediately see the heart of whatever was bothering him. Bozer might have known him for longer, but Jack had still been the one who got to see the darker sides of him born in desert heat and sandy plains. That was exactly why this whole mess had hurt as much as it had.

“I always trust you Jack,” he said honestly. “You caught me off guard, but nothing is about to change that.”

Jack blinked hard, swallowing as he processed that. “After everything that happened this week, I know that I don’t deserve that but you don’t know how good that is to hear, man.” He rubbed at his face, pulling his emotions back in line. “And just so you know, while I appreciate you accepting my apology and all, I know I’m nowhere near done earning your forgiveness. What I did was-”

His eyes suddenly turned distant, and whatever strength had bled back into his frame drained in a rush. He looked… fragile.

“Jack, you don’t need to earn anything,” Mac said, suddenly feeling vaguely guilty for taking it all so badly while at the same time desperately trying to throttle that sensation. He wanted to forgive Jack – already had, if he was honest with himself – but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right to be upset in the first place. “I’m glad you apologised, no matter what I told you before. That’s all I needed.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Well, that and for you to talk some sense into me, maybe.”

“That’s my job, remember?” Jack said with a shrug of his own. “Keeping your head on straight is half the battle.” He winced in the same instant as he said it, apparently realising the irony in him being the one to throw Mac off this time. He visibly forced himself to straighten out, trying to accept the truth of Mac’s forgiveness. “Well, lesson learned, I guess. Just wish I didn’t do it by hurting you.”

Mac snorted softly, even though his heart wasn’t really it in. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“That is one hundred percent true,” Jack agreed without hesitation, “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was a dick and you caught the worst of it. Which would be bad enough at the best of times, but in this case you were only doing what you could to protect me and Riley, which is like, I don’t know, a double dick move on my part?” He broke off momentarily with a frown as if trying to work out the maths of that specific scenario, then shook himself like a dog shaking off water. “Whatever, the point is-” A pause. “What was my point again?”

Despite himself, Mac snickered. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was an ass, I won’t do it again’. That about sum it up?”

Jack grinned in that knowing way he did when he’d succeeded in pulling Mac out of his own head without him realising. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” He sobered, catching Mac’s gaze. “And I mean it. I’m not ever going to take a swing at you man, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to feel like I might again.”

Mac’s first instinct was to brush the reassurance off once more, remind Jack that he already had his trust, but he caught himself before he could. He was determined not to punish himself for reacting badly to something he had every reason to react badly to, and besides, it seemed like Jack needed to say it just as much as Mac needed to hear it. After everything that had happened that day, it felt good to hear that promise put into words. “Thank you,” he said at length, letting truth settle into his tone.

He went to say more, but the words were lost as a jaw-cracking yawn forced its way up his throat. Jack chuckled quietly at him.

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, dispensing with his heavy tone for something lighter, something healing. “Think it might be past time we got you to bed, man. You look knackered.”

“I am,” he admitted. There was very little point pretending otherwise; he knew what he looked like. “You’ve got to be exhausted too.”

Jack shrugged easily. “Yeah, but I’ll get out of your hair. I knew you weren’t exactly expecting visitors when I decided to turn up unannounced at four in the morning.”

“That’s literally never stopped you,” he said, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, he was glad Jack had shown up when he did - it was only thanks to it that he thought he might actually be able to get some honest to god sleep before he had to show up at work tomorrow- or, well, later today. “You’re not driving home this late. Just sleep here.”

“I didn’t exactly bring a go-bag with me.”

“Unless you’ve changed dramatically in size in the last two months, I’m pretty sure the clothes you left in my dresser are still going to fit you.”

Jack looked like he was bending, wanting to give in to the comfort readily being offered, but something dark and wary in his eyes was holding him back. That line of guilt that ran rigid along the back of his shoulders had eased slightly during the course of their conversation, but it still lingered on even now. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to lose it for a long time.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said after a strained moment of silence. His gaze dropped to his lap. “I think I’ve disturbed your sleep enough tonight to last a lifetime, bud.”

“In case it wasn’t abundantly obvious, you weren’t disturbing anything.”

“Just ‘cause I wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.”

Mac couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “C’mon man, it’s done. We’re all good, remember? But if you keep arguing about driving home at four AM when you look like you’re going to fall asleep at the wheel, then you are going to keep me up when I would much rather be sleeping. Matty’s already going to be mad as it is; we don’t need to pile sleep deprivation on top.”

His Overwatched hissed, pulling on a peeved frown. “You’re too sneaky for your own good, you know that?”

Mac released what felt like his first genuine laugh in days and drained the rest of his beer, easing himself carefully to his feet. “Someone might have mentioned it in the past. Come on, big guy. I’m not carrying you inside if you pass out here.”

“You could just wake me up.”

“And give up the opportunity to listen to you griping about that bad back you pretend you don’t have? Ooh, that’s a tough call.”

“You’re an ass.”

Mac’s laugh chased them into the darkened house.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #fanfiction #angus macgyver #jack dalton #s02e02 muscle car + paperclip #muscle car + paperclip

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,402

Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced (temporary) character death, slight manipulation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur tours the stronghold, meets DreamXD, and watches Tommy and Techno move a few very reluctant inches closer to reconciliation.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Fourteen: wipe the dirt off of your hands (ii)

Phil and Technoblade found the server’s stronghold. Because of course they did. Nevermind that the End is closed off here, the one rule of this server that hasn’t been broken and flaunted in front of everyone’s faces. The one rule that might actually sort of mean something. But evidently it doesn’t mean enough, because Phil and Techno not only found the stronghold, but decided to use it for a secret anarchy base.

When he voices all of this aloud, Phil just shrugs.

“Techno won me over to the whole anarchy thing, a bit,” he says, completely unrepentant. “We wanted a base, and the stronghold was literally right there. Not like anyone else was using it.”

“I really feel like that’s not the point,” Ranboo says weakly. He understands the significance, apparently. “Phil, even I know what a stronghold is.”

“Okay, it’s not nearly as big of a deal as you two are making it out to be,” Phil says, even though he is wrong, completely dead-wrong. “Just, c’mon, I’ll show you how we get there.” He starts walking, heading for the door, and he and Ranboo are given no choice but to follow. “We found an old library in it, lots of books in surprisingly good condition, considering. I haven’t even begun to go through them all. I’m thinking if it’s information on ancient, slightly eldritch beings we’re looking for, that’s our best bet in finding anything.”

“Right,” he says. “Sure. Why not?” He hopes Phil can hear the utter frustration in his voice. The smirk directed his way tells him that Phil did, indeed, hear it. Bastard.

But there’s nothing to do but go with him, at this point. It’s not like he’s going to pass up the chance to see one of these; he’s been in strongholds before, of course, but this feels like it holds more significance, somehow, on a server where the End is forbidden to all. Phil leads them through a convoluted series of passages, hitting buttons that reveal secret doors, and there’s a long hallway of ice, and then more buttons, and the air gets cooler and cooler, musty and still. Old. Tense. Like the rock itself is waiting.

And then, Phil opens up one final door, and a different hallway greets them. One crafted with intent, not carved carelessly out of stone. Bricks placed purposefully, rough though the detailing now is, and the air is stale here, and strangely damp. They’re underwater, then, and he casts Phil a glance. He seems unconcerned, and Wilbur chooses to believe that means that the roof won’t cave in under the pressure of the ocean above.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in one of these,” Ranboo says. His voice is hushed, quiet, almost awestruck.

“It’s not much,” Phil says with a shrug. “Normally wouldn’t bother with it, in a server like this, but like I said, Techno and I wanted a base, and it happened to be close. Not much of use here, but there is a library. More cobwebs than books by now, but a lot of what’s left seems legible, at least. I haven’t gone through most of it. Here, this way.”

Phil keeps walking, and for a moment, Ranboo doesn’t follow. He looks a bit taken aback, perhaps by Phil’s casual attitude toward a place that in any other circumstance, to any other person, might be something approaching sacred.

Wilbur sighs.

“Phil’s just like that,” he murmurs. “Plus, he’s been on dozens of servers. Seen dozens of these. And he’s ancient, too, so there’s that.” He goes along after Phil, and Ranboo, after a second of hesitation, hurries to catch up with him.

“How ancient are we talking here?” he asks.

Wilbur feels his lips twitch upward. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked for the exact number,” he says. “Centuries, at least. Maybe a few millennia. No one really quite knows what Phil is. I’m not sure he knows himself.” He shrugs. “Growing up, he was always just our dad. That was enough.”

“Oh.” Ranboo chews on that for a moment, and then nods. “Okay then. That actually explains a couple of things.”

He hums. “How did you come to live by him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, well, it was after—you know about Doomsday, right? I mean—”

(destruction raining from the sky and the terrifying shriek of withers and his home is gone the history is gone and Friend, Friend is gone, his dearest Friend and Phil knew, he knew, he knew and he did it anyway but only a few minutes later the memory is gone because he does not want to remember this and it is a blessing, being able to forget, because what use is carrying pain that he can do nothing about, what use is holding it close and letting it make a monster of him because even dead he cannot manage to ask for help must keep up the facade but at least let it be a happy one)

(and yet looking back on it, looking back on it now, he feels barely any anger at all. like son, like father, after all)

He smiles tightly. “I know about Doomsday,” he agrees, and then tilts his head. “That’s right, you were—you were living in L’Manberg at the time, weren’t you? I—Ghostbur saw you there.”

“Yeah, I lived there,” Ranboo says. “Right up until it turned into a crater, I guess. But, um, after all of that, Phil knew that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so—I don’t know, I guess he felt bad for me or something? He invited me to stay up here with him and Techno, and I guess I never really left.”

That’s such a uniquely Phil thing to do. Destroy a country, then pick up one of the kids he rendered homeless. Wilbur can imagine exactly how that went.

“Well, I hope you know that you’re not likely to be rid of him now,” he says, and then the two of them step around the corner, and right across the way, there is an open doorway, and even from here, he can see the rows upon rows of bookshelves, some of them half-empty and all of them covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. He glances at Ranboo one last time, and then the two of them step into the room.

He is not one for claustrophobia,

(was not, though now tight spaces and dark rooms remind him of one place and one place only)

but the room feels close, crowded, the shelves towering over him, and even over Ranboo, who has more than a foot of height on him, tall and lanky and half-ender as he is. And more than that, the room feels old, feels weighty, moreso even than the rest of the stronghold, because here are books that must have been written hundreds of years ago, before the server passed into Dream’s hands, that have not been touched since, that have been left to gather dust and mold in an ancient ruin under the sea. In these books are the words of people who came years before him, their words reaching out to grasp the long arm of the future, and it is nothing that he has not seen before, but he never gets used to it. He is no scholar, really, no Technoblade, but he can appreciate this for what it is, can appreciate the history here, the circle that never ends.

(he has always fancied himself as part of a story, has always been able to look outside of himself to see what role the history books will have him play. moments like this only make him more aware of it, more aware that someday, he will be long in the ground and only his words will live on, his words and the words of others, a legacy, a garden growing and fed on the dust that was once him)

(it should already be so. stories are not supposed to be picked up after the last thread is snipped and yet here he is, and the whole narrative has been thrown into disarray)

Phil’s head peers out around one of the shelves.

“Took you long enough,” he says. “We can start anywhere, I suppose. I didn’t get around to cataloging any of this shit, so your guess is as good as mine as to where the important stuff is.”

“Great,” Ranboo says, sounding thoroughly unenthusiastic. “I love having absolutely no idea what we’re looking for.”

“We have to start somewhere,” he says, though looking at the shelves around them, he thinks that Ranboo might have a point. But nonetheless, he grabs a random book off the nearest shelf and opens it, frowning at the mold that dots the pages. But as Phil said, it’s legible, and his eyes scan over faded words, printed in an older dialect that’s just barely understandable.

They split up, each taking a different section. But it only takes a few hours for Wilbur to get frustrated. He’s more patient than this, normally, unless that’s another aspect of himself that he lost somewhere along the line. But he thinks he’s justified—perhaps under normal circumstances, they would have all the time in the world to find the information they need. In normal circumstances, a strategy like this would work. But they don’t have that kind of time. And they especially don’t have that kind of time to search for knowledge that may not even be here at all.

He snaps the book he’s leafing through shut and stands.

“I’m stretching my legs,” he calls, and doesn’t wait for an answer before striding out of the room. Too late, he remembers that they’re still underground, underwater, and the air outside of the library is barely any fresher than the air inside, which does not improve his mood. But a walk might help clear his head, so a walk is what he takes, wandering the corridors as he did in the castle earlier, that same restlessness returning.

It all comes down to a feeling of helplessness, in the end, of powerlessness. He was powerless to stop the Egg. Powerless to save Techno, and then later, powerless to help him. And he is powerless now, skimming through century-old books with barely a hope of a payoff. And yet, it’s all he can do, is the best plan they have, and how is it possible that this is the best plan they have?

He used to be good at this. He has been presenting himself as good at this, pulled on his old general’s strength to present confidence to the others, surety. And yet, here they are, and it’s too soon to give up, he knows, but it’s been a few hours and they have found nothing, and he can’t help but feel like they’re going to continue to find nothing.

You are nothing, and you may as well give it up, give in, throw away yourself for a chance of saving what little you have not already lost, something whispers, and it is not him, and there is translucent red lining the edges of his vision, for if you pass up this chance, who do you have to blame but yourself?

“Shut up,” he mutters. “Shut the fuck up. You’re thousands of chunks away, shut up.”

Distance is no matter to one such as I, and you ought to know better than to hope for it, it says. You ought to know better than to hope for a great many things. Powerless as you are, why not take into your hands the only choice you have left to you, take back your peace and save your brother, save them all from the encroaching choke, save them all and yourself most of—

He steps into another room, and the voice abruptly stops, leaving his head blessedly silent. He catches himself holding his breath, and he releases it all at once.

And then realizes what he’s seeing. It’s a meeting room, clearly, decorated far beyond what an untouched stronghold would look like, and this has Phil’s interior design choices stamped all over it, but—

They’re using the End Portal as a table.

Because that is undoubtedly the End Portal. Even if he hadn’t seen one before, once or twice, on different servers, he would be able to recognize the blocks for what they are: something other, something that belongs to a different place entirely. They fill the room with a low, buzzing hum, and underneath that, there is a melody hovering just beyond his perception, a melody that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. He hums, trying to match the notes, and finds that he can’t, that he always lands above or below no matter what pitch he vocalizes. And yet, even still, there is something about it that is eerily comforting.

Perhaps it is simply the way the Egg fell silent as soon as he stepped inside. He appreciates that.

But still. They’re using it as a table.

“Do you like the décor?” Phil asks, amusement clear in his tone. Wilbur doesn’t turn to look at him, but Phil comes up beside him soon enough, and Ranboo trails behind, staring at the portal with wide eyes.

“Is nothing sacred to you?” he asks, and the teasing note comes out naturally.

“Eh,” Phil says, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “You know how it is.”

“I know what that is,” Ranboo says, sounding far, far away. “I know—I know this, I—why do I—?”

(a question: if he could sense the music, human and just barely void-touched as he is, then what must it sound like to one who has the End itself in his veins?)

Ranboo takes one step forward, and then another, until he’s standing right next to the portal-table. One hand hovers above it, and he hesitates before placing it down. Wilbur glances to Phil, wondering if this is a thing they should be stopping, but Phil is staring at Ranboo, head tilted and eyes slightly narrow.

“Have you never seen one of these before?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo says, still distant. “Maybe? I don’t think I remember. But I—I don’t know where I come from, but this feels like—”

“Well, it is an End Portal,” Phil agrees. “I wasn’t sure if it was still functional, but I guess that answers that question. You’re probably sensing something from it that we’re not picking up on, with you being half-ender and all.”

“I guess—”

“Why wouldn’t it be functional?” Wilbur interrupts. Maybe that’s not what he should’ve gotten out of that, but he’s satisfied that this is an enderman thing, not something to be concerned over. But that offhand remark, said in that infuriatingly casual way that Phil so often has, draws his attention, because he’s never heard of a non-functional End Portal before. He didn’t think that such a thing was possible; everyone knows that portals are the one sure fixture of almost every server, unable to be tampered with or destroyed by any means.

“Oh, that.” Phil laughs. “There’s an interesting story there, actually. When Techno and I first came through here, we—”

But Phil gets cut off.

Wilbur senses it before he sees that anything is changed: the pressure in the room shifts, suddenly, becoming greater, more. All the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and the next breath he takes, he gets a lungful of ozone, sharp and electric. He coughs, and finds that the noise falls strangely flat, and then there is someone hovering over the portal-table. Not standing. Hovering, a good six inches from the table’s surface.

Ranboo stumbles back, and Phil takes several strides forward, arms outstretched as if to shield them both. His cloak twitches, though his wings do not spread.

Wilbur’s not sure what he’s looking at.

They are a person, he thinks. At least, they are person-shaped, though it is somewhat difficult to tell; most of their body is covered in a long green cloak, one that drifts around them despite the stillness of the air. They have no visible feet, and their hands are hidden, if they have them. But under their hood, there is nothing but shadows, and those shadows do not seem to fall across a face. Instead, it is as though they are made of void, black and cold, and he finds himself leaning in, straining to see if there is anything past that, and the hood twitches in his direction and he gets a glimpse of

(twin halos circling circling like a tear in the world and a tear in the void a tear in the nothing and the everything and a circle half filled in and half open and you know something in you knows)

He freezes. His spine locks up. They do not have eyes but they are looking at him, and the only way to describe the feeling is prey studied by a predator. The Egg didn’t make him feel like this. Even Dream didn’t make him feel like this.

(or he did, but it was tainted by darkness, tainted by corruption, a predator studying prey if the predator was malicious rather than just an animal, acting on cruel whim rather than nature and instinct. this is something different. this is something vaster. this is the regard of a)

“The End is closed,” the newcomer says, and Wilbur stiffens further, because their voice echoes and vibrates and buzzes in his skull, but underneath that, underneath all the white noise, the voice sounds like Dream. But that cannot possibly be right. This—person, whatever they are, they are not human, but they are not the same as Dream, do not give off the same impression of oozing corruption, of a black pit at the core, sucking in all light to be snuffed out, stamped upon.

“We weren’t going to the End, mate,” Phil says, calm. “Just talking. Not against the rules to talk, is it?”

“The End is closed,” they repeat, their voice grating and twisting and pulling at the reality around them. Wilbur feels a headache begin to form behind his eyes, a dull throbbing.

“Right, one trick pony, you are,” Phil mutters, and then glances over his shoulder. “This is what I was about to tell you about. Seems there’s someone to enforce the End rule here. They almost took away the portal entirely before Techno and I swore we weren’t gonna use it. Nothing much to worry about, I don’t think. Look,” he tacks on, turning back to them, “we were really just having a chat. Don’t need someone looking over our shoulders for it.”

The hood of the cloak moves again in what might, possibly, be considered a head tilt.

“You may not open the way to the End,” they say. “Not even for his sake.” A hand snakes out of the folds of the cloak, gloved in black, and makes a quick gesture in Ranboo’s direction. Wilbur blinks, hard; the motion is difficult to track, and it’s as if they slice open the very air itself just by moving.

Phil scoffs. “Is that what this is about?” he asks. “Mate. He’s an enderman hybrid, he can’t help but be drawn to it. But he’s not stupid enough to try and go through. You’re not needed here. Promise.”

Ranboo nods in agreement, head bobbing rapidly as he makes a few noises of agreement. Wilbur might be amused by it, if it weren’t for the fact that every inch of his skin feels like a live wire, being in the same room as this thing. He’s not sure why Phil is being so nonchalant about this, as if this is normal. This isn’t normal. Or perhaps he’s the strange one, is overreacting to something that is undoubtedly odd but no reason to worry, but he doesn’t think so. He really, really doesn’t think so.

They drift a few inches back, almost absently.

“He watches from behind your eyes,” they say. “He above all others must not be allowed access. You will forgive my insistence.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Phil asks, and Wilbur wants to echo his confusion, except the Egg was in his head not even ten minutes ago, and he has a sneaking suspicion as to what they might be referring to. The Egg was in his head, but they are not looking at him, he’s sure, because when they were looking at him, he could feel it, just as he could feel Dream’s gaze sliding across him like the touch of a razor and yet not like that at all. And Ranboo has tensed, so perhaps this is directed at him, but Wilbur pushes that aside and steps forward, evading Phil’s outstretched arm, because if no one else is going to ask the questions he wants answered, then he will.

“What the fuck are you?” he says, blunt. Perhaps it’s not the wisest move, but he’s tired and irritated, and when Phil goes to grab his shoulder, he shrugs him off. “No, I’m not—stop that, I’m done with things yanking on my chain. This guy wants to appear in front of us and be all cryptic and shit, I’m not having that. Not today. We don’t have time for this. So what the fuck are you?”

For a moment, they go silent. His breathing is loud in his own ears.

(he’s not sure why he’s stuck on this, not sure why he’s stuck on them, for he has tangled with gods and monsters and this being should be no different, really, from what he has dealt with over the past few weeks, should be better, even, since it seems that they are not here to try to kill him or his family, but he looks at them and sees beyond them, sees a break in the world and crack in the code and it is like and not like anything else he has seen before and perhaps they will not find what they need to know in books)

“I am the protector,” they say at length. “A fragment and a failsafe.”

“I didn’t ask what you do,” he says, “I asked what you are.”

“Wil—”

“Stop,” he insists. He’s standing in front of both of them now, and he doesn’t look back, doesn’t take his eyes off the figure floating over the table. “We’ve got some, some otherworldly being in here with us, and you don’t think this could at all be relevant? Please tell me I’m not the only one who realizes who he sounds like.” Without waiting for an answer, he addresses the being again. “What are you? And how are you connected to Dream? You can’t tell me you’re not, I don’t believe it.”

Behind him, Ranboo makes a little sound, like he’s been punched in the gut.

They are silent once again.

And then:

“I am a shadow,” they say. “A shadow of the original. I am what he rejected in his last moment of clarity.”

“What are you—are you trying to say you know Dream? Or that you came from Dream?”

They drift closer. “I am of him but not him. My task is to prevent the worst. The final task he set me. I can do nothing else.”

“Is the ‘he’ in that sentence Dream?” Ranboo asks, a frantic whisper that is very loud. “Is the—I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all. Can we go now? I think we should go now and leave the mysterious floating guy alone.”

“Could you speak in anything but riddles?” he snaps, ignoring him. “I want a straight answer. You haven’t given me one yet.”

They drift closer still, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh, static energy crackling across it. He resists the urge to step back.

(this reminds you of another time another time long ago and this surge of confidence is true truer than any you have experienced yet since they dragged you back into this world by your trailing fingertips and it is true because you remember standing on the walls and facing the ruler of the server and holding your ground for what you believe in for the people you fight for and this is different but it feels the same feels the same and you will not give in not even to a)

They are looking at him, right at him,

(twin halos circle slashing wounds into the world and this is something that was never meant to be)

and they say, “It is not of you to demand of me. I am the protector. That is my task,” but that is not what Wilbur hears, because suddenly, there is something in his head, something poking at his thoughts, but it does not reach in as the Egg did, does not pull at the threads of his mind and attempt to twist them into something new, but rather just exists on the edges, touching but not pressing, and there is a pressure and he doesn’t like it at all but it doesn’t hurt him.

And what they say is not words, but rather impressions, imparted to him all at once, impossible to pick apart, and

(the beginning and the end all wrapped up in one as the universe looks on and this server is a home he will make it a home he did but he is gone and this is what remains of the divine fabric the crown of the world and they wait and wait and the universe looks on and they are nothing but a shell all the love taken by the other and broken corrupted drowned twisted and they wait by their task they do what has been set and only once do they not only once do they act there is a man and he asks and he is cloaked by the universe and the thrall of the empty and time in its mercilessness and that which is inbetween and he asks and the universe says yes so they do not refuse and they drag you back into this world by your trailing fingertips for the better or for the worse and the man is gone and the universe cannot be contained by this but the universe says)

he doesn’t understand a bit of it, but he reels back regardless, and his head feels like fireworks have gone off within it, like a thousand thunderclaps sounding overhead. Hand land on his shoulder, on his arm, and he does not push Phil away this time, nor Ranboo when he suddenly appears on his other side. He blinks the spots from his vision, and looks up. The figure is gone.

“You alright?” Phil asks quietly.

“What the fuck?” he says instead of replying. “Phil, what—what was that?”

“I second that? I would also like to know?” Ranboo says, voice tilting upward.

“I would’ve told you not to mess with them, but I figured you should get it out of your system,” Phil says, still quiet, deadly serious. He stares at the table rather than make eye contact, and Wilbur follows his gaze. The End Portal still hums. “I’ve been around the block enough to know a god when I see one. I don’t know what the fuck this one is or what connection they have to Dream, but all they seem to want to do is make sure that no one goes to the End. Like I said, that’s what I was about to tell you before they showed up. Techno and I had to swear five times over that we wouldn’t use the portal for anything other than decoration before they’d even let us keep it. I figured it was best to leave them the fuck alone.”

“A god?” Ranboo echoes. “Like, an actual god? Divine smiting and all of that?”

Wilbur has never been much of a believer himself. Or at least, not one for worship. Gods may exist, but he’ll pay one homage when he decides it deserves his respect, and that day has never arrived.

But this one

(was in his head and he wanted it gone wanted it gone because he has had enough of things dragging their fingers across his sense of self but this one did not push and more than that it felt familiar almost like)

is important.

“There’s plenty of different kinds of gods,” Phil says, “but essentially, yes.”

“Dream’s not a god, though,” he states flatly. Phil glances at him.

“He’s never felt like one to me,” he agrees. “But I never picked up on the demon thing either, so I probably know fuck-all.”

“This feels important,” he says, and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to settle his nerves. “This feels—fuck, every time I think I’ve got all the pieces laid out, it turns out that I’ve made the framework too short, and there’s components I didn’t even know existed.” He shakes his head. The headache has mostly abated, so that’s something. “I don’t suppose they’d come back if we asked them nicely?”

“Do we want them to come back?” Ranboo asks, his voice rising in pitch even further. “Is that a thing that we want?”

He runs a hand through his hair again and doesn’t reply. Phil doesn’t either, though he’s not sure it’s for the same reason. Because frankly, yes; he wants them to come back. He asked them questions and didn’t understand a word of their answers, and he feels like he’s barely scraped the surface of what’s actually going on here. But one thing has been made clear enough: the nature of the connection between Dream and this being, this god, is uncertain, but the connection exists. And considering everything, that is something that’s relevant to them.

He’s beginning to think that they might get some information out of this after all. But he doubts that it’ll come from any book.

----------

They don’t find anything. They go at it for another few hours, flipping through musty pages until his eyes swim, and they come up with absolutely jack-shit. He wishes he could say that he’s surprised. He decides not to say anything about it at all, because Ranboo is wavering on his feet and Phil’s face is held in tight lines, and his negativity won’t do either of them any good.

“We can try again tomorrow,” Phil says, “but we need to turn it in. It’s been a long fucking day.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been one day. Doesn’t feel like just this morning, they were marching into the Egg’s chamber, intent on taking it down once and for all. Doesn’t feel like they were chased out less than an hour later, battered and with one less than they started with, Dream escaped and everything gone to shit. It doesn’t feel like one day, and yet, it has been, and it reminds him of the war, at the end, when everything was happening so quickly and there was barely any time to process one event before something else was going wrong.

He doesn’t miss those days.

“How long can we afford to do this, Phil?” he asks, and doesn’t bother to hide his weariness. “How long can we afford to fuck around out here with nothing to show for it? We can’t even be sure that nothing’s happened in the Greater SMP, not with comms down.”

“I wish I had a good answer to that, Wil,” Phil says. “I really do. If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears.”

(does, perhaps, but it’s not one that Phil will like)

doesn’t, so the rest of the walk back out of the stronghold is made in silence. It’s a relief when they make it to the surface, the cold, biting air fresh on his face. He turns his face into the wind just to feel it, regardless of the sting. Night has fallen, the sun just the barest hint of purple-orange on the western horizon. Overhead, stars twinkle, bright and distant. Techno’s house is lit, now, an orange glow emanating from the windows. Tommy must have gotten a fire going.

Tommy. Right. They’ve left Tommy alone with Techno all afternoon. He’s too tired to be concerned about it right now. The house isn’t burning down, so they’re probably fine.

“I think I’m gonna go home for the night, if that’s okay,” Ranboo says. “I’ll meet up with you guys again in the morning?”

“Sounds good, mate,” Phil says, a bit distractedly; his eyes are roving over the cottage, probably searching for signs of property damage. But Ranboo takes it for agreement, so the kid nods, and then waves awkwardly to him, and then he’s walking across the snow toward the nearest mountain. For the first time, Wilbur realizes that there appears to be a house built into its side, not particularly pretty, but functional.

“With luck, they’re both conked out,” Phil mutters. He gathers his robes around him and heads for the door, and Wilbur trails after him.

Phil opens the door, and they’re greeted with silence. It is not the same silence from before; a fire crackles merrily in the hearth, now, some evidence of life. The house no longer gives an impression of a grave. But there are no voices that he can hear, nothing from the house’s two inhabitants, and perhaps Phil is right and they’re both asleep, but Wilbur doesn’t trust silence.

So as Phil goes over to the fire to stir up the coals, he makes a beeline for the ladder, climbing up as quietly as the creaky old thing will allow. The muttering hits his ears as soon as he pokes his head above the floor, hushed and furious, as if they both want to be shouting but are held back by some unspoken rule, some agreement not to break the peace of the rest of their surroundings. Or maybe that’s bullshit; Tommy isn’t one to care about things like that, after all.

He doesn’t step off the ladder, choosing to hang there for a moment instead, gripping the rungs uneasily. The wood is rough, and vaguely, he wonders if he’ll get splinters.

Technoblade is awake, and more than that, he is aware. That is the first thing his mind locks onto, the fact that his brother looks far better than he did earlier. He is still shaking, but far less, and his eyes are bright and present rather than fogged with pain. He sees no sign of gold, no lingering flickers and flashes of magic, and the relief is heady. He is not yet completely well; the fact that he is still in bed is evidence enough of that. But he is sitting up, and he no longer looks like death warmed over,

(too soon too soon)

and his face is twisted in irritation rather than pain.

Tommy has scooted his emerald block closer to the bed, is leaning forward, feet planted on the floor and hands planted on his knees, all bristling anger, indignation, face flushed and red. He puts Wilbur in mind of a cat, hissing and spitting at the object of his ire, making himself bigger than he truly is.

“—the fuck you want,” he’s saying, and his whisper is harsh, but it’s certainly a whisper. “I don’t fucking—I don’t owe you shit, you got that? I don’t owe you shit, so you can, you can fuck right off, you hear me?”

Techno blinks. “When did I say that, Tommy? Please tell me exactly when I said that,” he says, and—oh. Wilbur gets it now. Because Techno’s voice is quiet and rough, still thick with exhaustion, and he’s probably only a few minutes out from waking up. So, Tommy may be angry, may be positively irate, but whether he’s aware of it or not, he’s holding himself back, refusing to unleash the full force of his fury on someone who has objectively been through hell today.

(and Tommy is brash, and Tommy is loud, and Tommy performs being an irritating little shit like nobody’s business, but above all else, Tommy is good, and Tommy will never admit it, but he is kind, and it is a miracle that it hasn’t been beaten out of him along the way, that despite it all he has managed to keep his spirit, but he is kind, he is. and it is more despite him than because of him, but it is little moments like these that remind Wilbur why he is so proud of him)

“You don’t have to say it,” Tommy bites out. “Mister, mister violence is the only language or whatever the hell, mister vengeance, you’re big on favors and repaying them. But I—I didn’t ask you to do shit, you did that all on your own, so I don’t owe you. I’m saying it right now, I don’t owe you.”

There is an edge to the words. A fear. An expectation. Wilbur doesn’t expect it to hit him as hard as it does, but there is a pang in his chest, and he wonders if this is yet another lesson he imparted on his little brother. To expect no kindness without an ulterior motive.

(that was how he was, in the darkness of the ravine, seeking out the duplicity of everyone around him, even when there was none to be found, but it is one thing to look back and see clearly, now, what he was like, the slope he slid down, the spiral he entered, and another to continue to be confronted with the evidence of the hurt he caused, the hurt he has yet to truly make up for)

(here is a certainty that has not left him: he does not deserve Tommy’s forgiveness. that is another thing that can be attributed to his kindness. the kindness that somehow, between the wars and the country and the shadows, he did not manage to take from him, not like he took so much else)

“I didn’t do it so that you’d owe me,” Techno says. “Give me a little more credit than that.”

“Why should I?” Tommy erupts, though it is the quietest eruption that Wilbur has ever heard from him. “Why—give me one fucking reason why I should believe a word out of your mouth.”

“I don’t lie,” Techno states, flat. “I have no reason to.”

“Oh, right,” Tommy says, “because you’re so fucking honorable. You’re so fucking—I can’t deal with you, you know that? You’re a fucking hypocrite, and I don’t care what your game is. I don’t care. You’re the worst, and I—”

“I don’t want you dead,” Techno says. “That’s it. That’s why I did it, Tommy, simple as that.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy snaps. “Then what the fuck was Doomsday, then? What the fuck was telling me to die like a hero, then? You are just talking complete shit, shit out of your mouth, out of your arse—”

And then, Tommy, cuts off, because Techno tenses, seizing up, a sudden glimmer of gold in his eyes, and he grunts, hands curling into his bed sheets, his face blanking. Tommy moves forward, seemingly on instinct, hands reaching out to steady him, and there is is again, that kindness, that kindness that Tommy would rather die than allow anyone to point out.

The fit subsides, Techno breathing heavily. Tommy lingers for a moment, and then jerks back, scowling, as soon as Techno makes eye contact with him.

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“At the end of the day,” Techno says, slowly, “it doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not. I’ve been angry at you, Tommy. I can’t say that I don’t feel like it was justified. I’m sick of—” He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply, and then opens them again. “I’ve said all this before. It doesn’t matter. But I don’t want you dead, and I wasn’t about to let Dream kill you in front of me when I could do somethin’ about it. Between my first life and your third one, it was an easy choice.” He sighs, settling further down on the pillows. “Take it or leave it. I’m not arguin’ this right now.”

Tommy’s mouth works. Several emotions flicker across his face, and Wilbur can only pick out a few of them: disbelief, more anger, but perhaps something that might be hope. Perhaps. But if it is, he doesn’t get the chance to find out, because at that moment, Phil calls up from the base of the ladder.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and that’s right, he’s just been standing here, on the ladder, for the past few minutes. He can see why that would make Phil concerned. But that means that Tommy and Techno are both suddenly made aware of his presence.

“What—how long have you been there?” Tommy sputters, and he shrugs, clambering up the last rung or two and stepping fully into the room.

“Not too long,” he says. “Glad to see you cognizant, Techno.”

It’s all he can think so say, really, though there are a plethora of other statements crowding his mind. That has always been a weakness of his, his inability to allow himself to be emotional when it really counts, his habit of hiding everything beneath layers of deflection and a cool exterior. He and Techno aren’t dissimilar on that front, though Techno has a different way of going about it.

(so here is what he does not say: I’m so glad you’re alright, I saw you die when you’re supposed to be deathless and it terrified me, please never do that again, I know we’re broken and fucked up and maybe we’ll never be what we once were but I can’t imagine a life knowing that you won’t be there when I need you to be, so please, please stay alive)

“Can’t say I’m having a great time with it,” Techno mutters, and he’s definitely falling asleep again. “But thanks. Glad you’re not dead too, Wilbur.”

The ladder creaks again as Phil comes up, and he pauses a moment to survey the room before stepping in, eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene.

“Nobody bleeding or dying?” he asks wryly, and then crosses the floor to perch on the edge of Techno’s bed. “Hey, Tech, how you feeling?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” Techno says. “Top form, point me at the orphans.”

Phil laughs, more relief than anything else, and smooths some of Techno’s hair away from his face. Techno huffs out a sigh, but allows the gesture.

“Great,” Tommy says. “You all get anything, or was this whole thing for nothing?” There’s more hostility in his voice than necessary, though whether it’s genuine or to cover for his earlier emotion, Wilbur can’t tell.

“Nothing yet,” Phil says, unfazed. “We’ll spend the night here, get back at it in the morning. If we still don’t find shit, we’ll discuss where to go from there.”

Tommy crosses his arms, looking away, and he’s displeased at the concept of staying here, Wilbur can tell. So as Phil continues to lean over Techno, he slides over to him, nudging him in the arm. Tommy flinches, and then relaxes, eyeing him up.

“You good?” he murmurs, keeping his voice down.

“Fine,” Tommy replies. “Are we actually going to get anything out of this, or was this a big fucking waste of our time?”

Again, vitriol, and he remembers the conversation between him and Tubbo, overheard and unmentioned. After everything they’ve been through, a separation can’t be easy. On either of them, but especially on Tommy.

(a memory: buzzing excitement at doing something good, at helping, shining compasses, an inscription: Your Tubbo)

“It won’t be a waste of time,” he says, and the plan that’s been formulating in the back of his mind solidifies. It’s not a very good plan. But it’s something, and it’s more than they’ve got. “I’ll make sure of that.”

It is a general’s responsibility to lead his soldiers to victory, after all. And in the case of a half-baked, reckless plan, to take matters into his own hands.

And it is more than the general’s responsibility. It is his. For better, or for worse.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #philza #ranboo #dreamxd #tommyinnit #technoblade #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #pogtopia ref tag #minor but it's present

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johannesviii · 4 years

Text

So I guess I’m hyperfixating on Death Stranding at the moment

And since I’ve finally finished the story after playing it for like 100 hours over the course of seven months or so I guess I have Opinions(tm) about things I didn’t like in the game

They’re eating at my brain so I’m gonna put them all in a single post to get them out of my system once and for all so I can enjoy the rest in peace

Spoilers, obviously

Hi welcome back to ‘Johannes is obsessing over yet another video game with horror elements in it’! I guess!!

Our latest entry in that category was Until Dawn but since UD can be played in like 6/7 hours and I spent 100 hours of my life on DS, as you can guess we’re talking about a full-blown hyperfixation, the kind that physically hurts because I can’t focus on anything else even after having finished the storyline

But it was super gradual. Again, seven months. I barely made any progress from December to May because I was only doing side-deliveries at the beginning of Chapter 3 instead of... you know... advancing the plot. It became an honest-to-god special interest about two months ago, then 6 days ago while playing chapter 10 it reached hyperfixation levels and now I am in PAIN

I hate my brain

Anyhow

At first I wanted to list the good and the bad hings in it but there’s too many good things to list them all in full, excruciatingly long details, so

Very Quick And Very Incomplete List Of Good Things That I Love

It’s a post-apo game based on travel, logistics, and good will, and it straight up goes AGAINST the whole ‘survival of the fittest’ trope that SO MANY post-apo things try to push!! YES

I insist but it’s built on helping each other and keeping everyone alive, seriously that is my shit right there!

The online community is wholesome?? People leave stuff everywhere, you never see anyone but people put little helpful signs and send you likes, and in my game we almost managed to repair all the roads together

There’s so many new & strange allergies and disabilities and phobias in this post-apo world and? nobody is trying to ““fix”“ anyone?? Like Heartman with his padded floor and his little box that brings him back to life constantly. He’s just... living like that. Nobody’s going “hey maybe you should get another heart operation buddy”

The hero and his phobia of being touched. I. Loved. That. The quiet scenes when he was just talking with Fragile, sitting next to her. In any other context this would just be two people sitting next to each other and talking but it always feels so soft and intimate everytime he allows another human being to just. be next to him. I love it. I love them

Everyone crying constantly because of chiral allergy!!

I loved all the important characters bar one (Bridget/Amelie)!

Why is this walking simulator so enjoyable why am I enjoying the fact that holding L2 + R2 while walking feels like holding your backpack and that you have to relax at times just like you’d have to if you were actually holding a backpack

Seriously. Why

The atmosphere was so great, the music was fantastic and the visuals were on point. A E S T H E T I C

The ghosts!! The giant Beached Things!!! Chiral crystals look! like! creepy hands reaching for the SKY!!

THE RAIN DESTROYS THINGS AND KILLS PEOPLE BY ACCELERATING TIME THIS IS SO COOL SHUT UP

Everytime the game got surreal it was electrifying

THE SURREAL WAR SCENES ON CLIFF’S BEACH

Everyone is using emojis

There’s guys addicted to delivering packages in that game and they’re trying to steal our stuff and we’re like “haha they’re dumb” but we’re basically addicted to delivering packages as the player. So yeah that was pretty fun

Terrorists thinking humanity isn’t going extinct fast enough and wanting to just rip the bandaid and speed things up. Simple but effective concept

People ask for SUPER VITAL ITEMS right next to completely trivial stuff and I’m LIVING for it. “Please fetch my toy dinosaur”. I feel you dude

The most isolated characters are like "LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS THING I LIKE" in your emails because they haven't had contact with other humans in years, it's super relatable

There’s a farm where people use the fact that Timefall rain accelerates time to grow food super quickly in one (1) Timefall and harvest everything just before it starts to die and I LOVE that detail of worldbuilding so much

YOU’RE FIGHTING BEACHED THINGS WITH YOUR OWN BODILY FLUIDS IT’S SO STUPID BUT ALSO SO COOL?? I love yeet-ing my own blood at eldritch entities

THE T W I S T S

All the fanservice (bar one detail that I’m gonna complain about later) is on dudes. This game reeeeeeally likes to show dudes naked or somewhat naked. Mostly the main character but this mocap also L O V E S Mads Mikkelsen and there’s a shit ton of homoerotic shots in there

I love Sam the antisocial papa wolf delivery man and if someone touches him or his baby again, I will cry

LOU. LOU LOU LOU PRECIOUS BABY I’D DIE FOR YOU. Wait I did

I love Fragile and how brave she is and how she keeps helping people even if most of them wrongly think she’s a terrorist and yes I will eat this cryptobiote thank you

I love soft science boi Heartman who keeps dying again and again and is a bit too much interested in bodily fluids

I love garbage man Higgs and how complex, funny and still somewhat tragic this memelord actually turned out to be in the end

Seriously I want to stop fixating on this character but you can’t give me YET ANOTHER character who wants to die but at the hands of someone else, that is unfair to do that right after my fixation on the new Doctor Who Master

So yeah Higgs is yet another character who makes me want to grab him by the lapels and shake him and yell WHY! ARE! YOU! LIKE! THIS! STOP! BEING! LIKE! THIS!!

Cliff broke all three of my feelings beautifully and in excruciatingly well-acted scenes that transcended the sometimes lackluster dialogue

John made me cry during That Scene

Mama your background was tragic and terrifying and you didn’t deserve any of this shit and I love you

Deadman was more funny than anything, really, but I still liked him even if he had no sense of personal space whatsoever and it clashed horribly with Sam’s phobias

The ending had some sad parts but was mostly positive, thank goodness

Now I’m gonna explain things I dislike and this looks long but it’s actually only 5 main things so I bolded them to avoid confusion

Things I really disliked (and could have been handled wayyyy better)

We all know it but Kojima isn’t a master of subtlety and some parts of the dialogue kept repeating the same informations again and again AND AGAIN and I was like “ok ok I get it”

The dialogue can be so bad at times seriously

Kojima is a bad writer there I said it

It was particularly annoying with Amelie/Bridget and the fact she’s a horrible person trying (and failing) to justify her actions wasn’t helping

Bridges protocols are incredibly intrusive. All of them. I know it’s framed as bad and Sam hates being spied on all the time and in the end he destroys the device that does that, but I wish someone else would openly criticise it in-game

I guess Deadman sort of did but still

Also I know the whole BB technology was Bridget’s idea, and since she’s the actual villain it’s framed as a twisted, evil thing during the ending, but I wish that had been framed like that much earlier ; a lot of Bridges employees just... seem to accept the idea that their employer is using premature babies and their dead mothers as useful, if disturbing, devices. They seem to justify it by “uh we stole that technology from terrorists” to try to cope with the idea but... yeah.

I mean, one of the points being made very early on is that Sam sees his BB as his child who must be protected at all costs instead of a detection device, but I really wish he wasn’t the only one to object to that thing

Again, the game DOES frame "using babies and their dead mothers as tools” as evil and twisted, I just wish it was given a lot more weight and way sooner

Now let’s talk about the Token Straight(tm) in this game

In any other kind of context it would be a joke! But Death Stranding literally has a Token Straight Guy!

I mean, there IS a few hetero couples among the Preppers. Not a lot, mind you. Like, there’s the Montaineer and his wife for instance. But they’re just there and it’s not what their side plot is about

No I’m talking about this piece of shit right there

This f█cking Junk Dealer guy complains the girl he loves is dead because of Bridges and emotionally blackmails us by sending us old holograms of her before her supposed death (somewhat disturbing holograms too because she looks... pretty young in them), then he sends us on what’s essentially a suicide mission in a BT infested zone, THEN when we give him proof she’s still alive and living in another bunker nearby, he won’t go there himself to check??

But SHE’s like “ok, bring me to him, then!”

He doesn’t deserve you, girl

I’ve already seen several people pointing out that carrying a woman as cargo on your back is... debatable at best and sexist at worst, but that part didn’t really bother me to be honest? She asked to be carried to him and it’s her choice. She was talking to us the entire way too, so that made things a lot less awkward. Also Sam has this phobia of being touched by other people so I bet carrying another human being on his back isn’t fun for him. It was also super stressful to do, to be honest.

And then there’s this EXTREMELY AWKWARD scene when they’re reunited and decide to get married, and thankfully Sam finds it just as awkward as we do because he’s standing super far away from the bunker in a “can’t they talk about this later - I’m right there” way. And I’m under the impression it was intended as cringy, in a “yeppp young people in love are Like That” sort of way, so I can accept that, to be honest. If you don’t take that scene seriously, it’s pretty fun in, again, a cringy sort of way

BUT

Then you receive more emails later and this piece of shit guy complains about her and he’s like “ugh WOMEN” or “marriage is the worst” and they end up divorced in record time and she goes back to her bunker

Which isn’t my problem with this subplot either, I promise I’m gonna explain myself eventually but this context is important. It’s okay to have characters who are pieces of shit like this guy who reeks of incel cologne. It’s alright. Not every character has to be a role-model. It’s good to have characters you can hate.

BUT THEN they get back together later to try to patch things up and you learn he was part of a gang who murdered her parents even though he protected her against the rest of the gang and that’s what I hated about that storyline. I guess if you squint it can be read as “this woman is making REALLY BAD life choices” but I read it as “he saved her so she owes him something, he can’t be entirely bad” and y i k e s this left such a bad taste in my mouth, good lord.

But yeah miss Chiral Artist you’re making really bad life choices please get away from this dude as soon as you can, thank you

Also don’t do this ‘sending Likes’ pose ever again, it was hilarious but also you made me use the word “cringy” several times in this paragraph even though I absolutely hate cringe culture, look what you made me do

Now I have to talk about a scene that was intentionally disturbing as hell but ONE (1) detail in it was disturbing for the wrong reasons

To be honest, I really don’t like the Metal Gear Solid games and one of the reasons is the rampant sexism in them so I... was kind of bracing myself for Death Stranding and expecting it to have at least SOME really bad fanservice with a woman at one point or another but to my surprise?? There was none? All the fanservice is on dudes??? Hello? I really liked that (well at some point Fragile takes a shower in our room but we see literally nothing except her shoulder and then Sam looks away)?? What a refreshing change

THAT BEING SAID

And if you played the game you know exactly what I’m about to talk about

Yep this is the part where Johannes complains about how the bomb flashback was shot

Ok so I guess I should also give some context in case someone is reading this but hasn’t played the game, but the deal with this scene is that our friend Fragile was betrayed by her colleague Higgs who used to be a porter but became a terrorist after meeting the “main“ villain of the game. First he secretly put a thermonuclear bomb in one of her deliveries so she’d nuke an entire city without even knowing it, and everyone after that thought she was a terrorist. And then he tried to do that shit A SECOND TIME, but she noticed and decided to toss the second nuke into a bottomless lake of tar. But he caught her just before she reached the lake and he decided to give her a sadistic choice, which was “teleport away and the bomb stays there and nukes the city, or carry it to the lake but only in your underwear under this rain that speeds up time and it will do enormous damage to your health and your body”

And of course being the hero she is, she decides to take the second option

And it’s an incredibly disturbing scene and it’s genuinely hard to watch

But it’s also the ONLY time a woman is in her underwear in this entire game and there’s A COUPLE of shots that were male-gaze-y at the beginning before she started to run and the really horrific part started.

So in a way I guess it could have been worse? way worse, even

But it still tarnishes an otherwise disturbing (and harrowing at times ; seriously I know I’m oversensitive but it was physically painful to watch) scene with unnecessary shots

We know Fragile had a young body before this happened, this isn’t the point of this scene, guys

Whoever decided to keep these shots (probably Kojima let’s face it), that is bad and you should feel bad

Idk how to do a visual transition for that next one because I do not want to screen that memo

So here’s a screenshot with a nice landscape instead

tw: acephobia

Now I have to talk about something I like the GENERAL IDEA of, but not how the IN-GAME MATERIAL ABOUT IT was written

Because I have to talk about that “asexual world” memo

First I have to say that I absolutely love the fact that a mainstream game openly says in-game “this future is full of asexual people" and?? it’s just that, it’s a part of this world. That’s just how things are. It’s normalised. I love it. For crying out loud this memo has the word demisexual in it. I can’t think of any other mainstream game that had this word in it so far.

It should have stopped there and let me enjoy that in peace but it didn’t

THE MEMO ITSELF WAS CLEARLY WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THESE CONCEPTS and there’s some really bad stuff there. I’d say it’s accidental acephobia but it’s still there. I’m not the best person to talk about this because I’m bi, but it still rubbed me the wrong way

The words this memo uses near the beginning are “"sexless lifestyle” among young people” and yikes, my dude. “Lifestyle”, uh? Really?

And then it goes on about how these new labels were already more and more common “among young people before the Death Stranding” and it also rubs me the wrong way, in a “wow young people and their weird labels lol” sort of queerphobic way?

However I’ve seen a post pointing out that the line “One theory posits that the Stranding accelerated the proliferation of these sexualities” was maybe a way of saying ‘yo asexuals are causing the end of the world’ but... I don’t see it, tbh? In the context of the game, society is extremely divided and a lot of people live in complete isolation and social norms have heavily shifted and it’s kind of normal that there’s queer people visible everywhere now, aces included obviously, because nobody’s bothering to hide it anymore. It’s a post-apocalyptic world! People are just being themselves! A lot of characters also seem to be bi/pan! They’re just vibing ok

At least that’s how I read that part, I can understand if someone had a problem with that bit but I didn’t

BUT! THAT’S NOT ALL because the memo concludes (I’m paraphrasing) “the birth rate has dropped, which might be a problem, but harassment and assault have also dropped, which is good, so idk it’s 50/50″ and. like. I get the intention. But it’s clumsy as hell and very bad. Please don’t confuse abuse of power and attraction. They don’t go hand in hand. Don’t do that. Please. And you know that aces can have kids if they want to, right. Come on. It’s 2020 my dude. This shit is harmful

Also. Like. It’s the end of the world in this game. People don’t want kids. It... has nothing to do with aces. Reality itself is crashing down. People are reluctant to have kids because reality.exe might f█cking crash down at any given moment!

Or a Beached Thing could VoidOut their city!

Or someone might send them a nuke, not naming names!!

Anyway!!!

It’s really badly written and whoever wrote it should educate themselves and maybe get an ace to re-read their stuff next time??

Again I’m not the right person to talk about acephobia and I bet an actual ace would have plenty more to say about this

Thankfully it’s a memo written in-game by a random Bridges councellor and NOT by any important character that we actually know

"I must preempt myself by admitting that I do not have any empirical data" yeah so, f█ck off maybe

So I’m just gonna call that guy “another piece of shit character” but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that the memo was written by someone who thought it was a good idea to put it in the game

Just let me enjoy my super queer post-apo world in peace and don’t write shit like that in your game thank you and goodbye

Minor stuff I also disliked but it wasn’t as awful

I get that Sam is upset at the end because Lou is dying but the way he said goodbye to Fragile broke my heart. It was abrupt and you KNOW he’s upset and wants to have nothing to do with Bridges anymore and that’s very understandable but it isn’t her fault

Seriously I want them to be friends again

I’m gonna pretend they’re friends again after Lou is saved and that Sam is a freelance porter again and sometimes their paths cross and they just talk together in the middle of nowhere and share cryptobiotes

The pacing is weird, there’s this deluge of plot in the beginning and the end but not much in the middle?

The BT boss fights could have been these epic Shadow of the Colossus showdowns but no, they were relatively standard boss fights. Wasted opportunity

The running on the Beach scene sdfghjhgfdsdfghjhgf that was... dumb

A lot of preppers are interesting in one way or another but some are just boring. Also I wish the design of their bunkers was more varied

Amelie/Bridget’s motivations are all over the place, both creating Bridges AND the Demens is... a lot? I know she both WANTS and DOESN’T want the actual, final end of the world to happen but that is a lot to take in and it’s all very confusing

Who the hell cares about ‘rebuilding America’ I just want to build a network where people can help each other

The ‘likes’ are fun but don’t make much sense

In conclusion

Death Stranding Good

Some stuff Bad

Some stuff Very Bad (but it’s just one memo out of 100+ memos, thank god)

I’m still hyperfixating

Send help

#death stranding #long post #eye contact tw #acephobia tw #from a minor unamed character but still it's there

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katierosefun · 3 years

Text

author interview tag game

thank you for the tag, @pandora15! <3

Name: caroline

Fandoms: mostly the clone wars, but i also have some marvel stuff, and waaay back in the day, i wrote some doctor who and merlin stuff!

Where you post: primarily on ao3! i mostly just write on tumblr when i’m accepting prompts from like...ask games or something.

Most Popular Oneshot: real

Most Popular Multichap: to these memories (this fic only recently hit 1k kudos, and my heart?? w h a t)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: def. to these memories because a) longest fic i’ve ever written, and b) oh, the hours i logged into writing this fic, and c) oh, the outlining that went into this fic...i’m very proud of myself for completing the fic, and of course, i credit this to everyone who showed their lovely support for the story. :’)

Fic You Were Nervous to Post: uhhh definitely too far just because it’s...rather personal. i sometimes say that there’ll be a scene or two or just straight up a line or two that’s plucked out of my real life, and i think it’s inevitable for writers of any kind, including fic writers, to isolate their real lives completely from whatever they’re writing, and?? this fic is probably the most personal for me because of that. i remember kinda hem-hawwing about posting it, because i was like whoa, maybe this is a little too personal? but then i steeled myself and was like, “okay, well, would this have lifted my spirits when i needed a story like this??” and then decided to post it.

How you choose your titles: i def. toss and turn between titles! there’s a few fics of mine that are straight-up song lyrics (no surprise there), but to my surprise (as i was looking through my catalogue of fics just now), i realize that a lot of my fics are usually just words or two about what i think might have been extremely important to the story. (or captures the overall tone/theme of the story, anyways.)

Do you outline? for multi-chapter fics and relatively long one-shots with lots of moving parts, i’ll outline. but for shorter one-shots and prompts, i’ll usually just stick with the image that compelled me to write the prompt/one-shot in the first place! (and then kinda write around that.)

Complete: uhhhhh, i’m gonna answer relatively for all my clone wars fics, because in total, i have 74 completed fics. (make that...75, hopefully in a few minutes or hours!) but out of clone wars fics, i have 46 completed fics! (and again, hopefully 47 in a little while.) a part of me is lowkey hoping that i’ll get up to 100 total fics by the end of this year. a part of me highly doubts it, but given how much i was able to write over summer break, i’m...intruiged if i wind up somehow writing another twenty or so fics by the end of this year. (asfsf my wip list is long enough to fill in for another twenty fics. caroline finish all your wips challenge.)

In Progress: okay, so officially, time, wondrous time is in progress and online. but in terms of the works in progress on my laptop...i have...*mutters, counting* fourteen official wips. (ten of them are one-shots, and the other four are longform fics. one of them, i’m hoping to release next week (!!!), and another, i’m hoping to release hopefully around mid-december. uhhh so fingers crossed??)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: oops, i guess i kinda already answered that question, but eh, might as well! the one coming out next week (hopefully!! caroline get your shit together challenge!!) is titled most ardently, and it’s an obitine au based off pride & prejudice because i cannot and will not shut up about obitine being the period drama ship out of star wars okay--

and then the other longform fic that is very overdue is called getting lost in a big galaxy, which is a fix-it of sorts taking place after season 5. anakin’s gone missing, and obi-wan winds up going on a galaxy-ride road trip with ahsoka (who, remember, has left the order) to find their idiot. this is honestly my excuse to just write more obi-wan and ahsoka content. hopefully, that’ll be posted in december!! (despite the fact i...originally meant to post it in august oOps.)

and then there’s this other longform fic which...might be coming in early 2021 called red, underlined, which is essentially...uh. everyone’s a stressed out law-school student, and anakin might have accidentally murdered professor palpatine, and now anakin, obi-wan, ahsoka, padme, and rex are all trying to find out what the hell to do with themselves because they’re all in on it. (def. influenced by how to get away with murder except without the criminal justice professor to lead them through the ropes. so more chaos. kind of a dark comedy vibe, if anything else? anakin no is major theme in this one. uh, i mean, maybe anakin was justified in murdering creep palpatine because our gang’s gonna find out what was going on in the background, but either way! lots of “holy shit are we good people are we bad people what are we doing”. lots of questions about morality! ethics! law school student study nights with anakin sprawled out on the floor and obi-wan wearing glasses (which he pushes up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s about to lecture anakin that no, that’s not how that statute works, dumbass) and ahsoka just bringing snacks and rex catching paper airplanes and padme being the one to supply everyone with very neat flashcards. this fic is gonna be an absolute beheamoth, and i’m estimating about 45 chapters? like...130K+ words? help? yeah idk either this really blew up in my head

and then...this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job, which is...office x tcw au. only not? it’s very, very loosely based off the office, but not really. obi-wan moves in as a new manager of a company, and we’ve got anakin being like “lol new guy i’m gonna mess with him”, and ahsoka being the one who’s both like “please don’t mess with our new boss” but also being like “actually, wait, lemme help”, rex being in hr and being like “i don’t get paid enough for this”. (also there’s some parts that are written like actual interviews like you would find in the office, so there’s this one bit where uhhh

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to the cameras in silent question before turning back to Ahsoka. “Well, if you need to call maintenance, then I hardly think you need my permission—”

“Thanks!” Ahsoka says quickly, and she’s about to disappear from the doorway when Obi-Wan stands up.

“Wait, Ahsoka, what exactly—”

Ahsoka re-appears at the doorway. “Oh, right,” she says. “Um—maybe just stay away from the men’s bathroom for a little bit.” She pauses.

“Actually, just stay away from them for the rest of the day.” She hovers by the door for a minute longer, and then she adds quickly, “And maybe also avoid the breakroom. Everything’s fine!”

And with a perfectly not-fine smile, Ahsoka disappears from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stares at where Ahsoka was just a moment ago, and the he turns to the cameras in disbelief. “Did she just—” Unable to finish his own sentence, Obi-Wan starts out the door. “Ahsoka?”

The camera follows Obi-Wan out of the conference room and into the breakroom. There are only muffled shouts—Anakin’s shouts, and then Rex’s, and then Ahsoka’s frantic “no, sorry, everything’s fine!”, and then Obi-Wan’s loud, “What is going on in here?”

surprise y’all just got a snippet i’m sorry can you tell i’m weirdly into this au?? i need to rewrite some scenes but uh there you go

Prompts: for the most part, yes! i have some stuff in my faq about prompts that i’ll probably turn down (mostly anything that’s...above a certain rating/really, realy heavy themes that i just don’t think i can tackle with justice or with enough education on my end). i can be a little slow with prompts, but i’ll get to all of them in time!

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: uhhhh i have too many that i’m excited about. literally i can write a mini essay on every single one of the fics i’m working on? but uhhh i guess since i already talked about all my major longform fics above (asdfasdfsd didn’t mean to do that, i’m so sorry for everyone who had to scroll past that word-vomit), i guess the one i’m most excited about releasing is the post season 7 obi-wan-and-ahsoka-finally-talk-about-how-they-miss-each-other-also-sorry-for-fighting-with-you-i-know-you-were-just-trying-your-best fic. (not a whole ton of spoilers for this one, but uh. i’m looking at some of these scenes and making frustrated sounds because there’s this one particular instance where i’m like, ahsoka. ahsoka just talk to him just ta lk to him but then lol no talking :)) also maybe some h/c? lowkey sickfic might be involved in this somehow? might have accidentally served as a precursor to to these memories? help? this fic just ballooned. caroline keep your ideas contained challenge!)

No Pressure Tags: @lightasthesun @soplantyourownflowers @ohhellokenobiand anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #thank you!!#caroline.....control your wips challenge #also i am so sorry this got sO long and SO OUT OF HAND #also....lol caroline stop writing so many longform fic challenge #i really love writing one-shots #i really really love writing one shots #but like also. also there's a part of me that's like 'im gonna hyperfixate on this au sO HARD'#thankfully tho i think those are all the longform wips #there's also that one time travel fix it longform fic i have in the back of my head....#but lol i still haven't outlined it yet

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neganandblake · 5 years

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I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 203 - Just one time

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

Chapter 203 - Just one time

[With Blake just about conscious, a visit to Carson changes everything...]

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

To Blake the world was dark.

It felt now like she was floating in a world, half in consciousness, half in a distant dream-world.

Around her, she could hear movement...footsteps..and voices...all of them familiar, and yet for some reason she could not remember who they belonged to.

"I swear, she just collapsed-"

"BULLSHIT, when I find out what you've done to her, you spineless motherfu-"

"I swear to you, please, I didn't do anything, I wouldn't-"

Blake gave a frown, the voices far too loud, right at this moment.

The voices hushed suddenly, the shadow of a figure leaning in close shifting over her closed eyelids.

"Peaches?" came a low and gruff voice in her ear. "You hear me, Darlin'?"

Blake scrunched her brows further at the intrusion of her personal space.

"Keep the noise down…" she murmured, a small huff escaping her her lips, as a large hand brushed its way over her cheek.

"Blake," came the voice again, sounding like it was trying to coax her awake.

But, wait, why was she asleep? Wasn't it the middle of the day? Just a moment ago she had been out in the garden talking to Brandon.

Frowning deeply again, Blake pulled her thoughts back to the present, wincing a little as she blearily opened her eyes.

It took her a moment to focus, seeing the familiar face of Negan hovering over her.

"Negan?" the blonde woman croaked out.

A look of utter relief seemed to wash over the Saviour's face at her words, as Blake confused by what had happened pushed herself up onto her elbows looking around.

To her surprise she found herself in the rec room on the ground floor, lying across one of the squashy leather sofas.

Negan was standing before her, and just a little way behind him was Brandon who currently had both his arms twisted up behind his back by Dwight, who looked to be in the process of leading him off somewhere.

"What happened? What's going on?" Blake asked feeling herself panicking a little as her green eyes searched the room again. "Is Mia ok?"

Negan's brow at once furrowed as he cupped Blake's cheek.

"He kid's fine, Peaches. But you ain't," he muttered in a growling voice. "Brandon here says you just collapsed."

Negan's dark eyes searched hers.

"That what happened, Darlin'?" he continued flashing a deadly look back over his shoulder at the detained Brandon.. "'Cause if it ain't-"

But Blake shook her head.

"Brandon didn't do anything," she said honestly. "I-I don't know what happened, one minute we were talking, and the next minute.."

Blake trailed off, pulling herself up into a sitting position and shooing Negan's hand away.

"I'm fine," said reassured him. "I must have just not eaten enough today.

In all honesty Blake hadn't had much of an appetite of late, blanching at the mere sight of what Mia had on her plate most days.

She had probably just worked herself too hard in the garden on an empty stomach.

Negan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, the door was flung open and Dr Carson appeared carrying a black medical case, looking slightly harassed.

"You should all be giving her some space," Carson scolded, shoving past Negan and coming to stand beside Blake.

"I'm fine," Blake said, with a bemused smile.

But the doctor ignored her, feeling her forehead first then grasping up her wrist to feel her pulse.

"Don' listen to the goddamn martyr here, Doc," uttered Negan in a sarcastic voice. "She's too damn stubborn-"

Again Negan flashed a look at Brandon who was stood behind, watching the entire thing unfold with a worried sort of look upon his face.

"-an' too trustin' too."

Blake rolled her eyes, just as Carson spoke again, ignoring Negan's comment.

"You felt feverish at all? Nauseous maybe?" the doctor tried, but Blake merely shrugged.

"Not really," she mused. "I guess I've been off my food a little…"

From behind Carson, she saw Negan shift his weight between his feet and angle an eye at her looking mightily unimpressed by her statement.

"An' you don' think shit like that is important enough to tell me, Darlin'?!"

As much as Blake appreciated Negan's constant concern, she didn't think she had to tell him every little innocuous thing that happened to her. Right?

But deep down Blake knew that Negan's fretting over her health was likely justified.

He had told her very little about the death of his wife, but Blake knew that he was frightened that something like that would befall Blake too. And with little to no healthcare in this world, the outcome of a disease like that would most certainly be the same.

With a soft sigh, Blake's eyes met with Negan's, offering him a silent look of comfort.

She was fine. This was definitely nothing serious.

"You can let Brandon go, Negan," the blonde said gently. "He didn't do anything."

Blake looked to Brandon, her gaze meeting with his. She hadn't forgotten their conversation right before she had passed out.

Everything was out in the open now. The truth about David and what he had done.

She wondered now whether Brandon would still leave. Go to the outposts perhaps.

After a moment the blonde woman, still full of guilt, dropped her gaze back to Carson, as the doctor scrutinised her further, shining a light into each of her eyes in turn.

"Not until I'm fuckin' certain this asshole ain't responsible for any of this, Peaches," Negan bit. "If he's anythin' like his damn brother you know he's capable of that shit."

Blake pursed her lips, not giving a reply, as Carson sat back once more.

"Blake, can I see you in private for a sec, there's just a quick test I want to run," the doctor said in a serious voice, reaching into the black bag beside him.

Blake was still for a moment before nodding.

"Whatever test you need her to do, Doc," Negan said in a low voice. "I'm gonna be there too, we clear."

Blake huffed at the Saviour's persistence. He really wasn't going to let up was he?

Negan right now had his chest puffed out and his lips fixed into a firm line like some sort of alpha lion protecting his pride.

"Well if you want to watch Blake here, pee into a cup, by all means come along," uttered Carson in a curt tone, pulling a plastic cup from his bag and handling it to the blonde woman, before getting to his feet, heading out of the room.

And with a smirk twitching its way onto her lips, Blake followed, getting to her feet too and heading off toward the door after Carson.

She heard Negan give a grumble, but thankfully he didn't follow.

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

Not even five minutes later and Blake was sat on a gurney in the medical room down the hall with a pot of warm, pale yellow liquid clasped between both hands, swinging her legs impatiently.

She watched a silent Carson, glide over to her on his swivel chair and take the cup from her grasp before sliding back over to his desk, searching in his desktop drawers for something.

"I actually feel fine," she said with a smile and a half laugh.

And she did. In fact, Blake felt great. No longer dizzy or light headed, she felt bright and bubbly, raring to go and get out of here as soon as she could.

But Carson just ignored her, not turning around from whatever he was doing in the far corner of the room, much to Blake's irritation.

"I don't think there's any point in fussing-" she said again with a forced laugh, craning her neck to see what Carson was doing.

But the doctor cut over her before she could say another word, cutting her laughter short, allowing it to die rather abruptly.

"How often are you and Negan having sex?"

Blake blinked, her smile falling from her face and she frowned, looking a little confused at his question.

"I...errr…quite often...I...uh...I don't know...every other night maybe...sometimes more I suppose…" she said, swallowing. "Why?"

Her and Negan's sex life had always been good. Of course things were of course far more difficult with Mia around these days, but they still managed, still both very obviously infatuated with one another.

"And you're taking precautions?"

Blake immediately felt her cheeks turn scarlet, feeling like a schoolgirl being lectured about safe sex by a teacher.

"I...yeah…" she managed to mumble out, feeling all of a sudden very worried about the reasoning behind Carson's questioning.

After what had happened, after the loss of their baby, Blake had ensured, over the last few months, that she and Negan were always careful. But with no birth control pills available, the pair had taken to using condoms. And although Negan had huffed and complained, he had of course obliged Blake's wishes. So yes, they had been taking precautions. Blake ensuring they did this time.

"W-Why?" she pressed once more. "Is there something the matter?"

Carson, who still had his back to her, spoke again.

"No slip-ups?"

Blake frowned at this, a little affronted that Carson would accuse them of being so irresponsible, before she suddenly remembered a night just a few weeks ago, neither of their faults of course, where their condom had split.

But that had just been one time.

One little time.

Blake shook her head, wishing so desperately for Carson to turn around, her heart beginning to thud in her chest.

"Why?" she said, speaking slowly, her voice sounding a little hoarse now in the quiet of the room.

And the blonde woman could only watch as the doctor swung around in his chair to face Blake finally, offering her a sympathetic look.

"Look I know you might not want to hear this..." he said, giving a small apologetic sigh, looking down at the thin and coloured paper strip in his hand. "...but you're pregnant, Blake."

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

So uh...yeah... :)

If you’d like to be tagged or untagged let me know.

#negan #twd #The Walking Dead #negan twd #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #negan fic #negan the walking dead #jdm #negan oc #negan story #negan fluff #daddy negan #twd fic #negan and blake

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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

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What’s hilarious [read: ridiculous] to me…

… Is that Horobi and Yua actually follow a fairly parallel path in their responses to their situations (I had a whole realisation about how Horobi-Fuwa-Naki-Yua are a four way parallel today; Horobi-Fuwa are parallels and Naki-Yua are parallels, but then their actions crisscross parallel). But there’s a massive double standard in how the two characters are reacted to… Despite the fact that Yua is a fully mentally matured and developed human adult and Horobi is an AI that has been hacked and brainwashed for the past decade in a way that forcibly stunted his development.

Yua was in a horrid and toxic work environment w/ an abusive boss. Now, admittedly, Gai kept a large amount of his worse deeds from her and to a point one could justify it as her thinking she’s acting for the greater good… Until we get to the part where it becomes abundantly clear she knows very well that what they’re doing is at the least morally questionable… But doesn’t try to defect at all, even to the point of insisting it’s of her own free will. Yes, she had a chip in her head, too, but given her reactions to him torturing Fuwa, she doesn’t seem to have known he could do that, and she didn’t know about Naki, nor did she have an AI drone in her mind. Now this is not to blame Yua—in fact, the point is that she was a victim in a bad situation. Her struggle to get out of there was fairly realistic given her situation. But she had the experience to know that what they were doing was wrong. That makes it tragic in it’s own way, yes, that she was under extreme stress and very conflicted, but she was aware of that. She was a fully developed adult. She deliberately pursued Izu w/ the intention of destroying her, and would have had Gai not said the wrong thing and set Fuwa off. And Izu was frightened and trying to run away. She resists Fuwa’s repeated attempts to snap her out of it.

Rightly so, people noted Yua’s situation, were upset for her and felt bad for her. When there were jackasses saying she should die, people called it out as bad. People were cheering for her to get away from Gai. People were happy when she did. And this includes me. I blocked people I saw shitting on Yua and saying she should die bc what the fuck, guys, she was in a seriously messed up situation.

Once free of Gai, Yua is uncertain what to do and decides to try and ‘make up’ for something she feels responsible for in a rather questionable way. She ends up helping the Ark rise and wreak havoc. Still people recognise that she couldn’t have known that would happen. Poor Yua’s been through a lot.

Meanwhile, Horobi is hacked and brainwashed by the Ark twelve years ago. She uses him to cause Daybreak. He is an AI being controlled by a larger AI designed to control HumaGear like him. Unlike and adult human being pressured and manipulated, he is literally incapable of thinking outside the Ark’s will. The Ark has complete control. Even if he did have any experience to compare w/ before, the Ark erases it. He has no frame of reference besides the Ark, no development of any kind to evaluate his situation w/. Even when Jin becomes important to him, everything is through the lens of the Ark, the Ark is more than a god to him. The brainwashing is so deep that even when disconnected for a bit, he can’t be anything besides blindly devoted. Talks about how the Ark is absolute. When confronted w/ something that causes uncertainty, he goes into a full on mental breakdown—literally, should have been a first clue that emotions were never going to come easy for him.

Eventually, he does end up w/ enough experience to just start to begin to break free. Manages to act completely on his own for the first time in his life—not an instinct that the Ark swooped in to take advantage of, he gets to go through w/ it on his own. And he’s floored. He literally cannot fathom why his body moved on its own, as far as he can tell. Can’t understand the fact that he wanted to do something. This is recognised as a big deal (one of the only times anyone tries to actually talk him out of things, in fact, unlike Yua, where there was a lot of effort). Horobi begins to wonder about things outside the Ark’s will, about himself, which he’s never considered before… Only to have it turn out his son was plotting to have the Ark possess him and then kill him to kill her. This completely upends any development he had. He’s re-hacked and rendered as largely a drone when not being possessed.

Finally, someone decides to put effort into him (kinda…) again. And, in a situation that heavily parallels Yua, he ends up finding it in him to break free of the Ark. Only… Again, a lot like Yua, it’s not a clean break. He’s still stuck w/ the past, the conditioning, and the effects of what happened. Additionally, as later becomes clear, his struggling w/ feeling emotions, which he has been carefully conditioned to reject and have no experience w/, for the first time. He’s mentally unstable and volatile. Now, in the show, what happens is the result of Azu/the Ark’s manipulations and people making poor decisions (and I do think you can make an argument for the fact that the Ark was intentionally keeping Horobi from feeling/having any experience w/ emotions to make him even more of a wreck later on), and poking a very volatile bear (well, a highly traumatised child soldier AI who has no fucking clue what emotions are to the point it feels like an outside being controlling him somehow), he lashes out, and Izu calmly stands there and deliberately takes a hit she very clearly sees coming. General chaos ensues. From Horobi’s perspective, the thing he’s been trained to think will get rid of the uncertainty and emotions etc. not only doesn’t work, but it makes him feel worse, and bc he has no other way he knows how to respond, he becomes more aggressive in rejecting those feelings. And then Jin dies, and he completely breaks down.

The reaction he gets? People calling him evil and horrible and saying he should die. That e’s choosing to do these things. People who talk about how Yua can’t really be held accountable, how she was coerced, look at a literal brainwash victim and say he choose to do those things.

Now, obviously, there are differences, which resulted in the different out comes—obviously the whole, one is a fully developed human adult and the other one is an AI. One was externally conditioned, the other, again, literally brainwashed. One had someone fighting to convince them to break free of their situation on a regular basis, repeatedly, constantly, the other didn’t. Yua was always going to have an easier break than Horobi, bc she had more mental and emotional maturity, but bc of that, esp in regards to actions done whilst under the ‘control’ of others, she has more responsibility for her actions bc she was capable of identifying them as wrong.

Now, of course, both situations are bad for the people involved. Both of them are victims.

But the issue is that people seem to be all over how Yua was a victim, Yua was mistreated… While attacking Horobi (and being upset about Izu dying is one thing, although, again, the person really responsible for that was Azu/th ark(well, Gai for creating her), Horobi was pretty much used as a weapon there, but this is for stuff he did while mind controlled).

And I used Yua just bc she and Horobi had the most parallel responses to their situations. The same goes for being able to see Fuwa as a victim, or Naki (so if Naki is the one who gave Horobi the ZetsumeRise Keys, does that make them responsible for Operation MaGear, or bc they gave Horobi the ForceRiser and said to use it on Jin, are they responsible for that? Bc that’s the logic of blaming Horobi for Daybreak), or Raiden, or even Aruto for that time he got hijacked via MCH. Any of the hacked HumaGear who were turned into MaGear.

Just… The concept of seeing how all of those people are victims in the situation… But blaming Horobi? Like… Not being interested in Horobi is one thing. Obviously, no on is going to be as madly in love w/ him as I am. It’s the act of not recognising him as being a victim while recognising everyone in similar situations as victims. It’s saying he was responsible for Daybreak, treating him like the Ark’s will was his (I’m literally having flashbacks to comments calling Horobi’s whole death ‘Horobi’s plan,’ even though by that point we literally knew the Ark was an entity that existed). Like… They literally confirmed it in show as not being that. Horobi is a mind control victim. What someone’s personal opinion of the character outside of that is another matter. But the fact is that he was mind controlled by the Ark and that the things he did under her control cannot be objectively called things he chose to do. Whether someone thinks he would have chosen them if he weren’t mind controlled… Esp given how all his actions of own choice were about protecting Jin, I personally disagree. But the show has been very explicit that he was mind controlled, and that he had no clue how to handle emotions (to the point he didn’t even seem to know what they are), so being able to understand that all those other people, esp the ones who went through similar things, are victims… But Horobi’s to blame for what he did? That’s just ridiculous.

And don’t even get me started on how anyone could ever see Gai as being a bigger victim than Horobi.

#Firebird Negativity #sorry #I'm not actually in a bad mood really #I just had to get that off my chest #bc it baffles me how people can see how Yua's situation was bad and tragic and she was a victim #but shitting on Horobi #and then saying GAI is more of a victim/tragic…#literally I stand by my view that they somehow switched the 'cores' of Gai and Horobi's storylines #and it's FRUSTRATING #but also blaming Horobi for stuff like Daybreak…#hey remember when Aruto literally called Gai the 'one responsible for the Ark' and I'm pretty sure said that for Daybreak too…#bc that happened #bc GAI CAUSED DAYBREAK

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prynacle · 5 years

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[Fanfic] Father & Son

Lunoct Celebration Days @lunoctweek

August 30 || Day 1: Happy Birthday, Noctis!

Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum. Genre: Slice of Life. Summary: Regis, as King, has a lot on his plate: war, duty and even a prophesy, yet he manages those fairly well. Isn't it odd then that Regis, the father, can't make some time for his one and only duty?

[Epilogue]

Dejection.

The face his son briefly flashed after declining his quiet invitation to expend the afternoon together had definitely been one of dejection.

Naturally, Noctis had masked it as soon as it appeared, quick enough so that it didn’t linger on his mind, and he, who was too wrapped around the unflattering military news that reached him that morning, had accepted the answer despite a more perceptive part of his subconscious registering the detail. It wasn’t unexpected then why, after reciting a matter-of-factly rundown of his schedule to Noctis, their breakfast had turned uncomfortably silent, with what he now understood had been an unvoiced truth lingering heavy in the air.

The pregnant silence had been the reason why he had given it a thought afterwards in the first place, and now that he took the time to review what was say and done that morning, he felt ashamed of how blind he had been to all the signals that were clearly present.

Regis briefly rubbed his brown once the eyes around the ongoing council meeting turned to a member sitting far from him on the table, and seized the moment to dig further into his memory.

As expected, some details still didn’t catch up.

Because… when was the last time he made-up a bedtime story for Noctis? How many meals had he skipped with him in the last month? When was the last time his son had shown unannounced in his office? He honestly couldn’t remember, and the realization sent a shiver down his back.

Had he truly been neglecting his son? When King Mors still ruled, Regis had been involved early on external affairs. Theirs was a relationship grounded on war and duty; they had always been King and successor Prince, and while he never felt particularly close to Mors, the man, they bonded over a shared understanding of what was truly important: Eos.

That had been Mors and Regis. The same couldn’t be said for Regis and Noctis.

Having been firsthand witness of the horrors of the enemy, tasted defeat and felt the sorrow of trials yet to come, Regis set his mind on giving Noctis a life different to the one he had had.

It was not Noctis’ place to be at the center of a war at his tender age. All he ever wanted for him was to learn, love and smile; to experience life at its fullest, for as long as he could allow him. Thus, being a fatherly figure to him, especially to compensate since Aulea's absence, had been his priority early on, and he had managed fairly well until Niflheim started creeping closer again.

That is just how things are, says a voice in his head, and Regis finds himself somewhat agreeing. Everything he did, he did it to protect Noctis, his future...

…and everyone else’s.

As long as he were King, the crown weighed on him with responsibilities he needed to take care of if he wanted the best for his son. It was the right thing to do. He was justified.

That's what King Regis thought.

But Regis, the father, wasn’t blind to his excuses.

No matter how grounded on logic, reason, loyalty and sacred duty those were, there was no good enough of an excuse for placing those sad, resigned eyes on his young son.

The king would continue to rule, but the father... where had he gone? Sitting on a chair, forever mourning time lost? Now that he listened to him, it was obvious he had neglected himself, as much as he had his son. He yearned to do so much more for him-- with him.

To see that carefree smile on his son’s face would be his ultimate reward.

The focus around the table shifted again, and the meeting moved onto a review on public affairs that Regis was already updated on, so he allowed his mind to completely muffle out their voices, free to wander further away.

Lately, dinner had been the only moment he and Noctis shared together through the day.

Some days, when emergencies demanded, they could not even have that. Regis was too busy leading a country, and Noctis was too busy attending elementary school. Soon, his son would be hitting puberty, wouldn’t he? There he would start grown fast, too fast, and for a moment Regis entertained himself imagining what kind of man his son would become. With the way things were going however, he was afraid all that growth would happen away from his eyes.

If he didn’t pay him enough attention, he could soon end up dinning with a stranger at his table.

Waking out of his pessimistic trance, Regis shushed and chastised himself. Would Aulea be here, she would do as much. “Look at you. Aren't you overthinking it? That was never your strong point, Regis. Acting on your hunches has always earned you better results,” he could hear her remind him between chuckles.

Aulea always knew him best, in ways nobody ever did.

Making up his mind, he focused again in the ongoing discussion, decided to wrap things up as quickly as possible.

Today, he would expend quality time with his son.

It’s been far too long since.

Noctis sat on the grass, yawning under the shade of a few trees at the park outside the citadel, finally unsupervised.

He had managed to trick his chaperone into thinking he needed to practice nature drawing for art class at the castle’s garden, only to leave his tools abandoned under a bush and make his escape from the stuffy atmosphere of the citadel through his secret exit—a set of selected glass panels with loose, rusty screws. With each of his successful escapes came the taste of a thrilling sense of adventure, and he sometimes wondered if it was anything similar to how his father had felt when he went out with his friends outside the city, many years ago.

Like he once told him in his bed-time stories.

That, too, that had been many years ago.

Sighing, Noctis relaxed against the bark of one of the trees, its roots curved enough for him to lay at the right angle and be cradled without risking a stiff neck. Comfortable as he was, it wasn't hard to brush some flecks of hair aside to take in the soothing beauty of the trees surrounding him; the warm light of the sun seeping through the leaves, the lazy shadows they made around him, dancing along with the movement of the wind.

This was something he could do all day: sleeping against his favorite resting tree, away from the suffocating stiff attention of the castle’s personal. Just him, the sound of chirping birds and the wind caressing his hair and skin.

Sometimes it felt a bit cold at given moments, though.

And suddenly humid.

Actually, it was cold because it was humid, and only in this one specific spot on his face, too. Had a raindrop fallen from the tree leaves and he hadn't noticed?

Opening his eyes, Noctis' view was greeted by an endless sea of black.

“Woaaaah!” he yelped, tumbling back in the grass. From his place, flat atop the dirt ground some steps from where he had been sleeping, he saw the face of his offender.

Umbra’s black fur shined healthily under the afternoon light, the white mark on his snout bending around his cheerful expression. His wet nose was leaning close to where Noctis’ face had been moments before, and If he had noticed Noctis’ outburst, the dog feigned ignorance.

“Umbra! How did you find me? ...Ah, your nose…right, never mind.” Noctis said, the laugh in his voice still laced with lingering drowsiness. Getting up on his knees, Noctis patted Umbra's head, reassuring himself of his presence. “You scared me.”

Giving him a whine and a lick to his hand, Umbra sat back, waiting patiently for Noctis’ full attention as he finished scrubbing his eyes awake.

If the dog was here, it could only mean…

“Did Luna send something back already?” excitement filled Noctis face. Taking out his shared journal, he readied himself to read Luna’s handwriting under cover of the tree’s shadow. As he reached the latest entry page, his cellphone ringtone started beeping, and the caller’s ID on the screen had him on his feet in an instant.

Sliding the screen to answer, Noctis' hurriedly started to make his way back to the castle. He had barely time to catch his breath. “Dad?!”

“May I know where are you right now, son?” Noctis started jogging.

“I was just…the garden…” dammit, had he been discovered already? His mind razed for a decent lie, but if his father was the one calling, his chances of getting away with it were pretty low. He couldn’t just simply lie to him, not over a call right after his nap.

The small laugh on the other side of the line made him stop his jog completely, Umbra watching him with curiosity at his side. “You fell asleep on the gardens, didn’t you? I’ll be over there in a moment, don’t move.” The call ended, and move he did, shoving the phone back into his pocket and clutching the red diary hard to his chest while running through the small tunnels and alleys that shortcutted his secret road towards the castle. As he entered through the glass panels, he saw his father reach his chaperone side, exchanging a few words.

“This will have to wait, Umbra. Wait for me in my room, I will catch up later, ok?” Tucking the journal back into Umbra’s pouch, he dismissed him, approaching his father with a practiced calm he didn't currently feel.

“Father.”

The chaperone excused herself and went away, leaving King and Prince alone to talk. Alone. That in itself was a rarity, one that made his heart stir uneasily.

“Did something happen?”

“Yes." Looking up to his father, Noctis felt paralyzed by the intensity of his gentle stare. “Something changed indeed.”

Walking merely a meter behind his father's steps, Noctis felt his uneasiness start to waver. If he wasn’t in trouble for sneaking out, why had he come to look specifically for him? Willing his fingers to relax, Noctis considered his words carefully before asking. “Where are we going?”

Regis slows down his pace to match his own stride, walking now at his side. The creases on father’s brown softened slightly.

“When was the last time you and I used the training grounds together?”

Noctis doesn’t reply and Regis takes his eyes off him, seemingly gloomier.

“Too long, isn’t it?”

“…I’m still not allowed training.”

Sometimes, he wondered if he would ever be allowed training again.

Truth to be told, it had only been two years since his injury with the Marilith, but he had been already allowed to start participating in PE at school as early as last year, too. Training, however, was still off-talk.

The doctors never outright said it, but he understood that they were scared of him reopening his wounds somehow, claiming that the possibility of the involvement of the scourge and Oracle magic could have a negative reaction to his own magic. It was a risk they weren't willing to take, they said. What they didn't know, was that Luna had already dismissed that possibility, but that was something Noctis couldn't disclose to them.

Back when the incident happened, it had been Oracle Silva who had personally supervised his injury in Tenebrae, where it had progressed with good results, and even as he and his father had to abruptly return to Insomnia, his wound kept healing with the help of what he knew was magic, days after the announcement of the Oracle’s passing.

It was only because he showed signs of a generally weakened physique upon returning that Clarus had deemed it unwise for him to continue his training with his father, indefinitely postponing his armiger and magic inductions.

He would soon be eleven, and his weapon capabilities were flimsy at best, while he still didn’t have the basic grasp on warp and elemental magic down. His dad had been way ahead of him at his age, hadn't he?

And here he couldn’t even get some sort of…

Trust.

Trust that he was already fine and ready to become stronger. If only his dad could see how much he had progressed...

The weight of a hand on his shoulder took him out of his thoughts, looking up to see Regis smile warmly at him. He realized they had walked quite far from the gardens, to a section of the castle that seemed vaguely familiar.

In front of them, stood a door he hadn't seen in some time.

Extending his arm, his father pushed the doors to the Crownsguard training hall open, it’s creakings magnified by the echo in the empty room.

“I am not imposing on you, am I? If you would rather do something else…”

“That’s not it.”

He knows better than staring, but something in Noctis stops him from looking away from the long, graying strands hanging over his father’s eyes. Would this be fair?

“If you are scared of losing against this old man, you can say so, Noctis.”

He scowls, but it comes out looking more like a pout, and Regis cheeky smile grows wider.

That was exactly the opposite of what he meant, and he was certain Regis knew as much, but now his dad was taking the soccer ball from the supply cabinets, bouncing it on his good leg before dropping it to stop it under his shoe with a swift stomp.

“Don’t think I’ll be going easy on you, my son."

If Noctis was to have it his way, that wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

A/N: This is a very special fanfic for me, as it was the very first one I drafted, written before the game even came out. It took me 3 years to finally flesh it out, but here it is! Forgive me if the grammar seems a little wonky or stiff at times, I tried to fix and edit it as much as I could but, no matter how many time I reread it, there's still something... odd on it? Hopefully it doesn't come across as bad to you as I feel it is. If you can, tell me what you think of it!

As you can see, some parts are heavily influenced by the Brotherhood anime and Platinum demo too, with some sprinkles of A King's Tale. Noct and Regis' bond is a special one I‘ve always wanted to touch upon, and when Carbuncle commented that Noctis wanted to play soccer with his dad on the demo, I knew what I had to write about.

Also, don't worry about Umbra, he is having the time of his life spreading fur all over Noctis' bedsheets. There's still an epilogue coming, and it will be about what Luna sent in the notebook! This fic is part of the Lunoct celebration days, right? :p

Thanks for reading!

#LunoctCelebrationDays #Noctis Lucis Caelum #Regis Lucis Caelum #FFXV #Final Fantasy XV #FF15 #Final Fantasy 15 #wmine #mine #fic

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 6 years

Text

Ready Player One review

People who say “The book is always better than the movie!” tend to be foolish people who view literature as an inherently flawless medium incapable of doing wrong. To say that, you need to ignore literature that is objectively better than the source material to the point even the authors prefer it, such as Fight Club, Jaws, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit, or films that greatly improved the work they’re adapting by trimming the fat, such as V for Vendetta and (oh boy I’m probably gonna get shit for this) The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Today’s film is one such film in the latter category, directed by a man behind one of the films mentioned in the former category, a film no one except me thought would be as good as it is: Ready Player One.

The book is easily one of the most contentious novels I’ve ever seen, a truly “love it or hate it” affair. I liked the novel; I read it when I was going through a really rough time back in 2012 or so, and a lot of its themes resonated with me. It’s a cheesy, charming book that unfortunately has a few really cringey bits of writing in it and unfortunately due to its medium spends a lot of time explaining references you wouldn’t see otherwise. I’d put the book on the same level as Eragon; it’s cheesy and has some dumb writing here and there, but overall it’s enjoyable. But even I realized a film could help trim a lot of the fat of this novel and polish it into something grand, and when I heard Spielberg was at the helm I slept a lot easier, figuring that would be the case.

And it was. This movie is a lot better than the book in most regards. But let’s look at the plot first:

In the year 2045, in a world where things seem bleak and joyless, people turn to the virtual reality world of the OASIS, where they can be anyone or anything they want. Its creator, a man named Halliday, created a contest for all the people of the OASIS to take part in after he died, in which the goal was to find the ultimate Easter Egg. Whoever found the three keys and then the Easter Egg would become rich, powerful, and most importantly they would own the OASIS. Wade Watts, known in the OASIS as Parzival, is an average guy who eventually stumbles across the answer of how to get the first key. But he’s not the only person gunning after the prize; the corporation IOI and its douchey head honcho Nolan Sorrento are after total control so they can spam ads and basically make the place a microtransaction nightmare. Can Wade, with the help of his best pal Aech, his love interest Art3mis, and his buddies Daito and Sho manage to stop IOI or is this end of line for the users?

WARNING: THERE’S GONNA BE SPOILERS BELOW.

So I’m gonna go over some of the things I didn’t like in the adaptation first, which honestly mostly amount to nitpicks. The diminished importance of Rush is a bit sad, though it’s kind of understandable since all of the challenges were streamlined and simplified for the movie. That doesn’t suck as much to me as the complete cutting of the Ladyhawke segment, as this book is what introduced me to that movie and I was hoping to see some reference to it. Changing up Aech the way they did kind of diminishes the impact of her reveal, and speaking of which, a lot of characters and backstory are glossed over or ignored, most egregiously Ogden Morrow. The book went into a bit more detail into Morrow, co-creator of the OASIS, and Halliday’s relationship, but in the film Morrow is seemingly shunted aside for much of the film. I don’t think any of this really ruins the film per se, but it certainly makes it a different beast from the book.

Now, time to sing the praises of this film: the visuals are stunning. The OASIS is a major focus of the movie, as it should be, and we get to see so many creative visuals and ideas take place, as well as insane amounts of crossover characters. You’d need to freeze frame every single crowd shot to catch them all; just watching it as I did I saw Duke Nukem, Jason Voorhees, the Battletoads, Hello Kitty, Harley Quinn, the Joker, Batman, and more among the crowds. It’s a lot like Wreck-It Ralph in that regard. Frankly, I kind of wish the entire film was just in the OASIS, because all of it is just so fascinating and fun and visually appealing… special props need to go to the extended trip into The Shining, which was recreated with eerie accuracy up until the parts where things go off the rails. I think this movie may be Spielberg’s greatest achievement visually speaking.

The parts of the film that take place in the real world aren’t nearly as good, but I don’t think they were necessarily bad either. They definitely had their good moments, and they certainly helped progress the plot forward as well as being important to the film’s overall message of “Don’t ignore reality in favor of escapism, because reality is where what’s most important really is.” And a good message that is, especially in today’s day and age. Still, some of the acting in the real world can be wonky, mostly whenever Wade is having romantic moments with Samantha AKA Art3mis. They do get better as the film progresses, but their romance arc in this movie is easily a weak point with how rushed and awkward it is. Guess Ernest Cline’s co-writing credit is really shining through there.

Our main characters themselves are all fairly well done, in OASIS and outside of it, though again, Wade and Samantha’s relationship in reality is a bit awkwardly written, and it’s not much better in the OASIS though there’s some more cool visuals to help you stomach things, but overall those two are enjoyable protagonists. Aech is still as cool as ever, though I am a bit disappointed they changed her character so much it made the impact of learning she’s a black lesbian (the latter fact is there but glossed over) a lot less impactful, as instead of her avatar being a white dude, it’s a hulking cyborg ogre. Still, I can’t deny Aech is still as cool as ever. Daito and Sho are also cool and have their roles expanded a bit from the book. Better yet, Daito does not get killed, so no awkward seppuku references that will make you cringe!

The villains are pretty cool too. First up is the OASIS insider I-R0k, played by T.J. Miller in his first act of penance for The Emoji Movie. It’s so fucking funny seeing this hulking, menacing death lord with skulls and shit all over him talk in the most nerdy voice imaginable. Still, he manages to shockingly be a menacing and capable threat, unlike his lame book counterpart. Then w e have the new villainess, F’Nale Zandor, a new character created for the film who serves as big bad Nolan Sorrento’s right-hand woman, acting out his evil schemes in the real world. She’s pretty cool and badass, and plays her role well enough; she’s sort of like a low-tier Bond henchman. Then we have Nolan himself, and while he is a stereotypical 80s corporate villain – a fact that even he lampshades – it’s hard not to appreciate a villain whose online avatar looks like Senator Armstrong and who calls forth Mechagodzilla as his ride in the final battle.

Speaking of the final battle, it is absolutely epic, but there has been a bit of contention due to the inclusion of the Iron Giant, and how it somehow goes against the non-violent themes of his titular movie. Well, you can rest easy in knowing that it’s just a giant mecha being piloted by Aech, and mostly what it’s doing is protecting everyone else from Mechagodzilla. The Iron Giant vs. Mechagodzilla is the greatest matchup I never knew I wanted.

Spielberg managed to do exactly what I expected him to do: he distilled everything that was good about the book, filtered out what didn’t work, and made a fun movie out of it. I can’t really justify totally calling this a style over substance film like I could with Batman v Superman or Miss Peregrine’s, because there actually is enough substance here to be serviceable and it has a very good message about the dangers of escapism and how allowing corporations to take away the neutrality of things is bad, but it’s definitely a movie you’re gonna wanna see for all the visuals more than anything. It’s a lot like Doctor Strange in that regard.

This is a great movie. Yes, great. If you love some really fucking cool visuals and can handle tons of cheese, this is the film for you. Honestly, it’s weird, but I’d really recommend this to everyone who disliked the book; you may find in a lot of ways that this is the book done RIGHT. As for people who love the book, this may be very much a love or hate affair; me, I loved it. I honestly can’t wait to watch it again and see what other secrets and cameos I pick up on, and just to bask in the glorious visuals of the OASIS. Leave it to Spielberg to polish something like Ernest Cline’s writing and produce a diamond, or at least a gemstone of significant value. It’s not a perfect film at all, but it IS a fun, enjoyable, and exciting one… kinda like a lot of the 80s films that inspired it.

#Review #movie review #Ready Player One #RPO #Steven Spielberg #Ernest Cline #VR #Virtual reality #OASIS #80s #sci-fi #action #adventure

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bthump · 6 years

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what would you like to change in berserk? actually im asking how the story would work without using rape as a plot device but also in general (characterization, plot etc.)

Ooh this is an interesting question, ty!

I wouldn’t change either Guts or Griffith’s backstories tbh, I think they’re actually pretty well done, and important to their characters and narratives without being the be all end all. Well, I’d like to make Gennon less of an evil gay stereotype and Donovan less of a scary black man stereotype but yk, other than those details the existence of rape in their backstories isn’t something I’d change.

With Casca… tough call. Her story is all about gendered violence to the point where if you got rid of the rape attempts you’d have to come up with a whole new story for her. But it’s still a shallower and less well-rounded depiction of abuse than either guts or griffith’s backstories, bc it’s so emphatically gendered, like, rather than informing her personality or her choices it’s just framed as being a woman.

So actually I guess for Casca what I’d change is (actually pretty obviously lol) her motivations. She’s not in love with Griffith, she idealizes his dream because she knows he wants to dismantle those power structures that fuck her over and create a place where those w/ power can’t easily abuse their power over others. She hates Guts not because she’s jealous of him (tho she could still be jealous of his emotional closeness with Griffith, like she’d still admire Griffith here even if she’s not in love with him and I like that rival dynamic), but because she recognizes that he could end up destroying Griffith’s dream.

Also I think we can still cut out most of the rape threats she gets while still showing that she has something to fight against. Maybe keep Adon being a gross dick (in all fairness he kind of mirrors Gennon towards Griffith which kind of shows how they’re fighting for the same dream - ie a world where those kinds of dudes are shut down) but have Casca just fighting for her life rather than against rape attempts as she runs from the 100 man fight.

So nothing really changes much until Guts comes back from his vacation. And now Casca is genuinely, genuinely angry and hateful towards him, because he did exactly what she’s been afraid he was going to do - destroyed Griffith’s dream, and her hope for a better future.

Which means they don’t have sex lol, Casca was never into Guts, they began a friendship towards the end of the war but nothing more. And now that Guts has come back Casca is actively hostile to him, though after Guts lets her stab him she probably forgives him a bit bc it’s not like he intended to destroy absolutely everything, and he’s clearly fucked up about it.

Also no suicide attempt.

So their dynamic during the rescue mission is resentful allies, like a throwback to their first three years knowing each other.

Wyald still happens but no attempted rape w/ Casca obviously.

Now when it comes to the Eclipse, I want it to be all about Guts, and I want it to hit the audience over the head with parallels to his childhood. It’s the Eclipse, it doesn’t need to be subtle. Rather than looking wistful when Griffith sacrifices everyone, I want Guts to look betrayed, I want him to look just as sad and horrified as he did when he was 11 and Gambino told him he sold him to Donovan.

Agh I’d hate to lose the creepy silent monster vibe from Femto, but something like a cold, “you’re still alive?” would be v fitting w/ the “you should have died” parallels. Tho idk I’m torn on that.

And ok I said I want it to be all about Guts but I can’t just kill off Casca. But if she’s gonna live the Eclipse needs some serious personal meaning for her too. So maybe her reaction to being sacrificed, knowing it’s for the dream she’s dedicated her life to and in theory she should be willing to give her life for it, and trying to reconcile that with the horrificness of the situation and her desperate desire to survive anyway. So she survives long enough for Femto to show up, because she’s not the third best fighter in the Hawks for nothing, and then…

torture? Femto has monsters hold Guts down and tortures Casca in a way reminiscent of a kid pulling the wings off a fly. She loses an arm, Guts keeps his because he’s too busy being utterly terrified and possibly flashbacking to hack his own arm off in a rage.

Like, one thing about the Eclipse rape, is that if Miura had to have it as a way of emotionally affecting Guts, how the fuck did he manage to draw like two chapters of awful awful shit with Guts being held down by monsters that he’d just watched rape Casca, and completely fail to allude to Guts’ own rape trauma? How. Hooooow it’s mind boggling. It’s absurd.

But you don’t even need the graphic rape for that, like hell, Miura has absolutely adequately set up the correlation between giant monsters Guts is compelled to fight and his own childhood trauma imo to justify Guts having a very emotional traumatic reaction to just being held down and made helpless by monsters after being essentially given to them.

There’s Black Swordsman Guts in a nutshell, and this is exactly what was implied to have caused him to go full traumatized amoral asshole. Before g*tsca was a gleam in Miura’s eye all he had were those parallels to Guts’ childhood trauma - Guts being given away to monsters by someone he trusted - and that’s all he needed.

So anyway, because Casca lives, she has her own reaction to being casually tortured by Femto before being rescued, which is also a replay of her childhood trauma but without the agency of killing her attacker herself with a sword. So her reaction could very well be similar to Guts’ - a desire to kill monsters and get revenge. Maybe she’s lost her idealism wrt the dream, and she’s more cynical now - a better world is impossible, best you can do is survive this one.

She and Guts go their separate ways because they’re barely friends, let alone lovers, and remember 2 brands = big ghost problems.

After this the narrative splits 3 ways between NGriff, Guts, and Casca.

I’m reaching the limits of my creativity lol. So I’m just gonna suggest that Guts gets the behelit, Casca gets the armour and the rpg group, Casca gets the moving on arc and hooks up with Farnese while maybe finding a happy medium between changing the world and lashing out against the world, and Guts succumbs to his inner darkness and gets a highly emotional confrontation with Griffith. Since he has the behelit maybe he uses it upon realizing that Griffith’s heart is still beating for him, bc the emotional conflict is just too much, and sacrifices Griffith to become a Zodd-esque apostle wandering battlefields and fighting for no reason, basically returned to his pre-Griffith state.

It’s probably shorter than 355 chapters too lbr. I’d say NGriff creates Falconia right before the confrontation with Guts, so yk he achieves his dream b4 ironically getting sacrificed. Otherwise his story doesn’t change much. Maybe stronger suggestions that he’s not as unemotional as he looks, to build up to a guts confrontation better.

Like… I’m not a very creative or good writer lol but I feel this general outline could be written in a very good and satisfying way by someone with talent, like Miura.

#ask #a #b #long post #ty for asking plz feel free to contribute with your own suggestions and ideas #Anonymous #character: guts #character: casca #headcanons #theme: trauma #theme: critique #theme: misogyny #scene: eclipse

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qqueenofhades · 6 years

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Wondering if you've seen that FB post about Garcy&violence against women? What's your take on this? To me it's insane - I enjoy all kinds of weird shit in fiction, but don't wish it happened to me. I'm a bit concerned that our ship may never sail to the sunset 'cause of similar (exaggerated, in my opinion) voices. Aaaand... didn't I see the traces of psychological abuse in Lyatt/Wyjess?

Welp.

Disclaimer: I hate talking about/thinking about/participating in any way in fandom drama, and my policy for as long as my blog has existed has been to ignore it. Some people have to be very informed on it and reacting to it all the time and etc, and whatever works for them, but I just can’t do it. Fandom is my happy bubble and I take active steps to cut out that sort of energy, because it will mess me up. It’s one of the reasons I’m not on twitter. I am a serious introvert and sensitive person and just don’t have the spoons to constantly manage it. So.

That said, you asked, and I do have some thoughts on this, so this will basically be the post I make about it, and then go back to my happily oblivious corner.

Timeless was a very chill fandom, shipping-wise, in s1, and it was small enough (and ships were not the main focus of the plot, even if potential existed) that we mostly or entirely avoided ship wars. However, in s2, we had a lot more shippy content, angst for a main ship, a returned dead wife, a love square, the development of an enemies-to-lovers ship, and some open-endedness about how they’re going to treat the main ship going forward, all of which leads to more friction and backbiting in fandom. This happens to most TV shows, unfortunately, and Timeless certainly isn’t as bad as other fandoms that I’ve seen, but it definitely is not the same atmosphere that it was. Which is disappointing, but again, not surprising. You have vocal fans of one thing on twitter, and then vocal fans of another, and no firm announcement of season 3, so… yeah. The natives become restless.

As for Garcy, I honestly remember the exact same thing happening with CS for years. There were many vocal antis who called the ship abusive, that it promoted violence against women, that Hook was horrible/a rapist, etc etc, that it made Emma “weak,” that it sent a bad message, so on and so forth, and they spent a lot of time bombarding the showrunners with their views. (The whole OUAT fandom turned pretty toxic and cliquish the more the show went on, unfortunately, and was one of the reasons in me leaving.) This didn’t make much difference to the ultimate writing of CS; they still ended up married/endgame with a baby. Anyway, the point is, fandom noise, even if there’s a lot of it, doesn’t usually massively or unduly influence the showrunners’ writing decisions. It’s a little different with Timeless, since they are still talking about what to do in s3, but all of that has pointed to more focus on Garcy, not less. In his TiffTalks interview recently, Shawn Ryan didn’t pull punches in talking about how badly Wyatt screwed up and raising the question of whether it was too late for him to make it up to Lucy, and repeating about 500 times about Flynn’s feelings for Lucy and that being an important part of the show (and hinting that he has a different opinion on L/W from the fandom).

As well, there has been a serious surge of interest for Garcy this season (look, they asked MATT LANTER in an interview about the tons of support for Flynn/Lucy online, which… dude, what do you want the poor guy to say? He’s not involved in that ship and plays a character that is the opposing number to it. But anyway). As I said in my last ask, they wrote a certain amount of L/W content, and then cut or changed it, and treated the Garcy content in a way to make it clear that they wanted to preserve the canon possibility of them as something more than friends/partners. So yes.

I think the fandom reaction to every enemies-to-lovers ship, especially in the case of Garcy when it appears to threaten an established/main ship, reflects the tumblr “social justice fandom purity” culture, where everything that a fandom doesn’t personally like gets put through the “this is why my opinion is Woke” gristmill. In other words, it’s not enough that they don’t like Garcy (which is fine for them, honestly, people can ship whatever they want); they have to prove that it is Bad and Unhealthy (while, as you point out, being blind to valid textual criticism to be made of their preferred ship/male lead). Flynn stans criticize him freely and refer to him as the Garbage Lord (especially in s1), but as I have noted before, Wyatt is often shielded from the consequences of his actions both in canon text and fandom discourse, and they find even more thinly justified ways to bash on Flynn/Garcy instead. That is tiring, and it unfortunately does impact on my views of both the character and the ship. It’s also why I have to stay away from too much of it. I WANT to keep liking Wyatt and rooting for him, but to have his canon actions ignored and excused and twisted around is a little (or a lot) eye-rolling. It’s okay. We all stan fuckup characters. It makes them more interesting. But that doesn’t mean they’re not fuckups.

Honestly, there were many, many other ways they could have written this Jessica arc (as well as Flynn’s interactions with Lucy), but they didn’t. As I also keep saying, this kind of drama eventually happens in all fandoms, and Timeless did not escape it. Hopefully it can be prevented from getting too out of hand. But yes, the movement overall has been (far far more than I EVER expected) toward Flynn/Lucy, and I don’t know what the writers will decide on for s3. It is, however, not going to be influenced just by some annoying fans on facebook.

#fandom wank #fandom drama #fandom drama for ts #okay i've said my piece #back to my bubble #wyatt critical #anonymous #ask

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joemerl · 6 years

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“A Swiftly Tilting Planet” is Awful and I Hate It

I don’t know if anybody cares about my opinions, but I built up a lot of bile reading this book and I have to get rid of it somehow.

Background

For those who don’t know, this is the third book in Madeline L’Engle’s Time Quintet, aka “A Wrinkle in Time and its sequels that you’ve never heard of before.” The series involves a family that goes on Science Fantasy-type adventures with beings sent from a vaguely-defined, vaguely Christian bureaucracy of magical aliens. I’ll discuss the previous books a bit, but the series is pretty episodic so we don’t really need to recap them.

In this story, the world is about to end because a South American dictator has a nuke. Our protagonist, the psychic teenager Charles Wallace, must work with a time-traveling winged unicorn from space to prevent this catastrophe by entering the minds of people from the past. It is much less interesting than it sounds.

Spoilers to follow.

These One-Dimensional Characters Keep Giving Birth to Themselves Like a Flock of Infuriatingly Dull Phoenixes

The main plot has Charles Wallace travel to ca. 1170, ca. 1693 (Salem Witch Trials), ca. 1865 and ca. 1930s (or whenever Mrs. O’Keefe would have been a kid), plus the then-present day of 1978. Along the way, he chronicles the histories of several families, which include, by my count, about 30 characters who have only half a dozen different names and two personalities between them.

The Maddox-Llawcaes: Technically two families, but they keep intermarrying each other to the point where I’m seriously questioning how inbred their modern descendants must be. This family was founded by a bunch of cliché Native Americans (stoic, wise, and otherwise devoid of personality) who married some woke Welshmen, repeatedly over multiple generations. They’re good.

Gwydyr and his descendants: Distant relatives of the above, but descended from their patriarch’s ~evil~ brother. They’re evil and lust after virtuous Maddox-Llawcae women.

The Mortmains: They’re evil and lust after virtuous Maddox-Llawcae women.

The O’Keefes: They’re evil and lust after virtuous Maddox-Llawcae women. Also, they seem to hate disabled people.

This is arguably a sex-linked trait; the one female character from an “evil” family seems relatively alright, but when she marries a Maddox-Llawcae she still passes evil on to their descendants. This turns out to be the driving crux of this story: Charles Wallace learns that the dictator is descended from that couple and was corrupted by his ancestress’ ~evil~ genes. To avert the apocalypse, Charles Wallace has to change history so that the Maddox-Llawcae man marries a Maddox-Llawcae woman instead.

It’s pretty much impossible to interpret this as being about upbringing; it’s about blood. "Gwydyr’s line is tainted,” Charles Wallace says near the end. “There is nothing left but pride and greed for power and revenge.” At another point, a Maddox-Llawcae immediately writes off his unborn half-brother as evil because he has a Mortmain father. And he’s right---Unnamed Mortmain Sibling grows up to be a criminal and dies in jail. Hopefully without managing to pass on his dirty, inferior genes first, amirite?

It doesn’t help that, even separated by centuries, relatives are often described as looking alike and/or having variations of the same names. Of those 30ish characters in these families we have three Mad(d)o(c)(k)/Madogs, two Gwydyrs, five Rich/Ritchie/Richards, three Bran(don)s, two Matt(hew)s, two Duthbert Mortmains (yeah, because that’s a name you want to keep in circulation for 300 years), and most egregiously of all, four of the main female characters are Zyll, Zylle, Zillah and Zillie. (Technically there are three Zillahs, if you count middle names.)

Obviously, genetic determinism is a questionable moral. It’s also really annoying, because each time period has the same basic characters just going through a variant of the same plot. There is hardly any character development across 800 years of history, and no permanent change from good to bad or vice versa.

In a way, this even ruins the previous books---Calvin O’Keefe became a good guy despite his dysfunctional family, but now I get the feeling that this isn’t supposed to be a testament to his strength as a person, it was just his mom’s Good Maddox Genes breaking through the Evil O’Keefe Heritage. But hey, the focus on Mom O’Keefe was nice in this book, since she’s practically the only one who has an actual character arc.

Though, as you’ll see below, she was not actually needed for this story at all.

This Universe Has No God, Just a Tyrannical Plot Outline

Charles Wallace is the protagonist of this story, but probably gets mentioned on fewer than half of its pages. Mostly, he’s just psychically possessing people, during which time he does not control them so much as see their lives and...vaguely influence them, sometimes. What I’m saying is, he doesn’t really do much in this story. His grand moment, in the penultimate chapter, is to vaguely influence Matthew Maddox #1 to vaguely influence Rich Llawcae #3 to not to get stabbed by Gwydyr #2. This saves the world, but seems somewhat anticlimactic after 287 pages of build-up.

What’s worse: he actually tried to make this story shorter, and save me so much suffering. Unfortunately, “God” wouldn’t let him. At least, for a certain sense of the word.

The Time Quintet is sort of like Chronicles of Narnia in that it’s a Christian story, but you have to dig a little beneath the surface to realize that. L’Engle’s beliefs were also more liberal than Lewis’, and in this book they seem almost pantheistic: Charles Wallace’s help seems to come less from a personal deity and more from a sort of implied sentience of the universe itself. This usually comes in the form of “the wind,” which blows him and the unicorn to different time periods at its own whim.

Charles Wallace’s arc is that he is apparently a control freak, and needs to trust God/the universe to lead him, or something. He figures out early on that the key to everything is in 1865, but the unicorn says that no, we have to let the wind blow us where it wants. Twice he tries to fast-track things, and each time he and the unicorn almost die as a result; thus he learns that no, he should not be relying on his own intelligence or logic, he should just ~go with the flow~ and assume that things will work out.

So basically, Charles Wallace has been tasked by Vague God to prevent the apocalypse, but he’s not allowed to do anything to actually try to prevent it---he’s basically just pushed into random corners and told to stay quiet, with the hope that his presence will change history through osmosis. I find myself comparing this to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. While I have some criticisms of this subplot, in that book Harry is presented with a choice: do what he thinks will save the world (looking into the Deathly Hallows), or what the Omniscient God Stand-In says will work (finding Voldemort’s Horcruxes). That works well enough, but here, Charles Wallace is given the choice between his own ideas and no actual instructions. He’s told to save the world, and then criticized for trying.

There’s a part where the Echthroi (demons who want the nuclear apocalypse to happen) try to trick Charles Wallace by preying on his ego. This involves telling him he was selected to save the world because he’s intelligent and psychic and is a generally moral person, all of which is true. He rejects this, as he is supposed to, and at the end of the book notes that the mission did not succeed “because I was intelligent, or brave, or in control,” but because he let the wind guide him. Which just leads me to wonder why he was the one chosen to save humanity, when Vague God could have sent anyone else, or just cut out the middle-man and had a unicorn tell Bran Maddox #3 whom he was supposed to marry.

But what really makes this intolerable? Charles Wallace was right. The key to everything is in 1865, he eventually gets blown there anyway, and it’s the only place where he concretely needed to do anything. So why the hell did we need 40 awful pages set during the Salem Witch Trials?! To teach us that the Salem Witch Trials were bad? Even the whole part in ca. 1930s was pointless---the only plot-relevant thing that we got there were hints about 1865′s importance, which Charles Wallace had already figured out but was scolded for suggesting. Other than that, these sections were just used to hammer in the idea that Maddox-Llawcaes are always good and the other families are always evil.

So, my rewrite: Charles Wallace goes to 1170 and sees Madoc and Gwydyr. Then he either a.) figures out the importance of 1865 with his family’s help, as he does in the book, or b.) goes to the 1930s and figures things out from the clues there, while also learning the fairly-interesting-but-technically-irrelevant backstory about Mrs. O’Keefe. Either way, he decides to go to 1865, thus justifying his role as protagonist, and the fact that he is actively trying to save the world is not treated as a moral failing.

Comparisons to the Previous Books, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love at Bombs

This is my third Madeline L’Engle book, and really, these problems were present in the first two, even if they were less pronounced. Both ended with the protagonist (Charles Wallace’s older sister Meg, who arguably is more important than him in this book, too) saving the day with the Power of Love---meaning that she didn’t so much do anything as feel a certain way. Here, Charles Wallace does even less, just watching other people fall in love while his own character arc is in opposition to the actual plot.

L’Engle’s strength does not seem to be coherent stories or complex characterization so much as weird, cool ideas---for example, a time-traveling space unicorn. But compared to previous books, this one is pretty down-to-earth; after hitching a ride on said unicorn, Charles Wallace mostly just watches people live fairly typical lives. While A Wrinkle in Time’s villain, a demonic alien brain, could theoretically wither at the approach of a sibling’s love, it’s harder to imagine a nuclear war being averted by nothing more than some shoehorned character development.

For the record, I bought the fourth Time Quintet book at the same time as this one. I really, really hope that it’s better, but it will probably be a while before I get to it.

Other Nitpicks

The whole clue leading to 1865 involves a book written by Matthew Maddox #1, who’s from that time. It’s about time-traveling unicorns and family feuds and the like, the basic idea being that he witnesses Charles Wallace and all the supernatural happenings and writes it down as a novel. Fine, okay, but people who talk about this novel keep emphasizing how revolutionary and amazing it was, which kind of feels like L’Engle just patting herself on the back for this awful, awful story.

At the end of the book, the time-traveling unicorn erases the memories of Charles Wallace and his sister Meg, for...some reason? I honestly don’t know why he did this; the pair knew about supernatural creatures even before this book, and they can still half-remember what happened anyway, so this seems pretty pointless.

This line, from the 1865 arc: “When the sons of men fight against each other in hardness of heart, why should God not withdraw? Slavery is evil, God knows, but war is evil, too, evil, evil.” Not a bad point, but juxtaposed to the characters’ passivity I can’t help but snark: “Yeah, why can’t people just love at each other and magically fix everything, right?”

I’m Tough But Fair: Some Good Points

There are time-traveling winged unicorns from space. They eat moonlight, drink starlight, and hatch from eggs, as we see on a brief trip to their home planet. So yeah, L’Engle is pretty good at Science Fantasy weirdness.

Honestly, the other filler chapters were pretty good too, if only because they distract from the annoying main story. Even the purple prose about “the harmonies of the universe” are alright sometimes.

Like I said, Mrs. O’Keefe could have been cut, but her arc, going from innocent little girl to crotchety old lady to redeemed old lady, was a good one. And her brother being named “Chuck,” like Charles Wallace, actually felt like it meant something instead of being yet another case of Generation Xerox.

Along those lines, I like that the Murrays didn’t turn out to be some distant cousins of the Maddox-Llawcaes. That would have been annoying.

The 1865 arc was easily the best in the book. Even with the blood-based moral alignments, the characters still had actual arcs about overcoming disabilities, PTSD...like, expand this and cut out the stupid Salem Witch Trial arc, which was so, so bad. Also, was I just imagining it, or was Matthew #1 in love with Zillah #1? ‘Cause him arranging for her to marry Bran #3 is even more touching if he did.

Conclusion

Um...the book sucked.

I wrote this over three days, and it wound up being more than 2,200 words. Wow.

#A Swiftly Tilting Planet #Time Quintet #Madeline L'Engle #Charles Wallace Murry #Book review #Religion #Religion in pop culture #Christianity #Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows #Review

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aros001 · 3 years

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First time read through light novel vol. 13. Random thoughts.

Alright, finally got access to this book and can read it. What happened last time?

She was the one who had slain the six Witches now gathered once again in this place. She was the worst of calamities, and one who had nearly destroyed the world.

—This shadow was the Witch of Jealousy.

OH RIGHT THAT!

Also, just some forewarning, I have not yet seen season 2...in part due to my own ignorance. See, when I started reading through the LNs, I was going to wait until season 2 was up to 25 episodes like the first season before I watched it. I never bothered to look and see that season 2 was going to be split in two halves, with the second coming out soon. So I figure after I'm done with the two most recent LNs, then I'll watch the season, wherever it's at currently.

“Also, get it right. We’re not mad at Tella. But we are mad at the Witch. And y’see, Typhon likes Tella, so...”

“Tella... You mean Satella? That’s...the name of the Witch of Jealousy, ain’t it...?”

“...To put it in simple terms, the world remembered Satella as the Witch of Jealousy. However, what was not recorded in history was that Satella had a type of personality disorder.”

...

“—Something like a split personality? That would mean Satella and the Witch of Jealousy are...”

“Perhaps it would be clearer to say that she absorbed a Factor that was incompatible with her, causing a mental abnormality that ultimately created the Witch personality within Satella...not that I personally have any inclination to distinguish between the two.”

Well, that's certainly an interesting bit of info. It would explain why Satella's ways of showing her love tend to be so horrific.

“If I didn’t do anything, what would have changed? Wouldn’t we just end up with horrible futures? If not me, then who?! Who else could’ve gotten this far?!”

Obviously the context is quite different but Subaru's sounding a lot like Light when he was finally caught at the end of Death Note (uh...spoilers):

"Somebody has to do this and when I first got that notebook all those years ago I knew I had to do it. No, I was the only one that could. I understood that killing people was a crime. There was no other way the world had to be fixed. A purpose given to me. Only I could do it. Who else could have done it and come this far! Would they have kept going?!"

I suppose you could make the argument both are just trying to self-justify their actions and play the martyr.

“—I...love you. Because you...gave me light. Because you took my hand, and you taught me about the world outside. Because...when I trembled on lonely nights, you never stopped holding my hand. Because when I felt lonely, you kissed me and said that I wasn’t alone. You gave me so many things... That’s why I love you. Because you...you gave me everything.”

I'm suspecting either time-travel shenanigans or reincarnation shenanigans. I'd like to think it isn't just a case of mistaken identity and Satella dragged Subaru into all this because she genuinely believes he's someone he's not, but I suppose even that could be made to work with a good enough story. I don't really have any real preference on what I think it should be, other than I'd like to know how Al fits into all this. It only occurred to me recently that he didn't know who Rem was upon meeting her and only knew about Ram and that might have had something to do with her getting erased from memory later on, like he came from earlier in the future and didn't realize until he's suddenly faced with the sister of someone he'd only known to be an only child.

What did she say to him just then? After a momentary, silent pause, Jealousy spoke to Subaru.

“—Don’t cry. Don’t hurt yourself. Don’t suffer. Don’t...make such a sad face.”

...

“What happened in the second Trial...? What did you see...?”

Jeez, this is such a good series for someone's mental health and wellbeing (ironically). Subaru was shown all those timelines the aftermath of when he died, and in almost all of them he saw that there was someone who mourned him. He focused so much only on that he'd made them sad and clearly not enough on the fact they were sad because he was gone. His life had value to others beyond just being a coin he could use for RBD. He thinks he has no value outside of the results he produces with RBD but one of my favorite sections of the story is still his final loop during the mansion arc. RBD allowed him to figure out there was going to be a curse killing everyone but he accomplished so much during that loop beyond that. He and the others discovered the shaman. They saved the kids. He survived his mauling and he and Ram went to save Rem. His big heroic moment of standing up to the shaman was one where he could not allow himself to die, otherwise Rem and Ram would never be able to get away, so he fought and was determined to live. Most importantly, he saved Rem by breaking through the complex she'd been holding onto for so much of her life while fully admitting he knew f**k all about what caused it for her. He managed to help her simply because that's something he could do. RBD has given him info and additional insight but it's still Subaru himself who's managed to do so much good and touch so many without needing to suffer and die to do it. Hell, he has even fixed things he thought couldn't be undone. His relationship with Emilia seemed over after their parting in Arc 3 and RBD wouldn't take him back to before he messed everything up. He managed to earn his way back to her side and it wasn't by killing the White Whale or Petelgeuse. He has people who love and care about him and it was Subaru Natsuki, not Return by Death, that made them feel such ways.

“I...don’t know who you are. I don’t know why you told me you love me...and I don’t know the meaning of...you telling me that I saved you.”

“—Ah.”

“But it’s still a fact that you saved me by giving me Return by Death. It’s also true that I’ve relied on it to get me this far.”

“ ”

“To me, Return by Death is...one choice, I suppose?”

“ ”

“And you’re telling me...not to depend on it, but to love myself...right?”

“ ”

“I’m not saying it’s as cut and dry as that. —But there’s no mistaking that you gave me Return by Death because you don’t want me to die.”

That was why...

“Just like you said, I’m going to...try loving myself, just a little more. I’ll take better care of myself. I don’t know what’ll happen because of it, but that’s fine.”

“...It’s all right?”

“Yeah...compared with death, it ain’t nothin’.”

I'M NOT EVEN PAST THE FIRST CHAPTER YET! THIS IS SO F**KING GOOD!!!

“And someday—you will come to kill me, yes?”

Well, f**k.

“—I will save you. You’ll see.”

Attaboy, Subaru.

He recalled how at the Witch’s Tea Party, he had confessed his true desire of not wanting to die. He confessed, too, his greed: His desire to be with the people precious to him was just as strong as his desire to protect them.

And how he yearned to know if the people important to him thought he was something precious to them.

“Who’d have thought you’d be the first one to tell me? —Thanks, Patlash.”

Rem: "Are you freakin' serious?"

Jokes aside, I get what this part meant and I loved it. Again, this is so good for someone's mental health because of course Subaru would have some lingering worries about whether those he loves do actually love him too. He was literally suicidal over it and developing a complex, something that's not easy to get over completely, so he really needed that reassurance.

Also, Subaru's words to Otto remind me a little of something he'd said to Rem about how much Ram cares about her. RBD gives him a variety of perspectives and it's really sweet sometimes what he takes away from those past lives. He knows despite Otto's words that he wouldn't leave him and run (except for the very first time with the White Whale) and he knows how devastated Ram would be over Rem's death (when she can remember her).

“—But of course, for it is I who contracted the assassins to attack the manor.”

—He had just confessed that the mastermind of the incident, the one pulling the strings of the tragedy at the mansion, was none other than Roswaal himself.

When I had first started watching Isekai Quartet, and thus was introduced to the Re:Zero cast, I only knew the basic plot description of the series and thus has made a prediction to myself that Roswaal, this weird magic clown dude, was the one behind Subaru's RBD and the threats he faced in his series. Never did I expect to eventually discover I was half right. Obviously it's been shown that he's been manipulative, from setting things up for Subaru to be allowed into the Royal Selection to this arc's last loop where he admitted he made the villagers afraid of Emilia and drove her into a corner. But this is definitely another level. Subaru even speculates Roswaal was behind his and Emilia's very first meeting, and with the Book of Knowledge guiding him that's certainly not hard to believe.

It's a great scene between the two and weirdly the scariest it gets is when Roswaal is assuring Subaru he doesn't hate him, having been genuinely thrown off by the suggestion . He genuinely believes in these horrors and insanities he's putting into motion.

“Wh-whaddaya mean you can’t...this is just something other people forced onto you!”

“Even so, I’m the one who decided to do it. I have my own goal, and I have to work hard to achieve it...that’s why I’m here right now. I don’t want to make excuses.”

Throughout the LNs I have really enjoyed the parallels the story draws between Subaru and Emilia. The exact details are different but Subaru's words apply to himself even if he doesn't realize it, just as Emilia's resolve is little different from his own.

I somewhat get where Subaru is coming from for why he doesn't ask others for help. After his experience with the White Whale and Witch Cult and being able to get no one to help during the first couple of loops, it's understandable why he'd focus so much on needing proof or being able to make a better case for himself, thus why he only asked Echidna and Roswaal for help, as they know about RBD and thus would know his words are true. But what Otto is headbutting into him is the same thing Rem had showed him when he asked her to run away with him, or that Julius and Ferris showed when he claimed Petelgeuse could hop bodies after death. Proof and a case are good for when dealing with people who hardly know him but he DOES have friends who trust him and that he's already proved himself to. Even if he can't explain how he knows what's to come, they trust him enough to believe he's not crazy or trying to lead them to harm. Flip things around, how much proof would Subaru demand out of Emilia, Otto, or any others he's close to before he'd lend them a hand if they asked?

“What about you, Roswaal? You’re not gonna sulk about your schedule going a little out of whack, now are you? Do you have the guts to push yourself a little for the sake of your successor?”

“...What a roundabout and deeeeply interesting turn of phrase. For the sake of my successor, you say?”

Ram: "Beg pardon?"

Seriously, what has to be going through Ram's head hearing talk like that? Roswaal's successor? Out of context there's the implication someday Subaru will be picking up wherever Roswaal leaves off, presumably inheriting a few things from him, and thus Ram will be taking orders from Subaru.

Back on topic, while it's hard to call Roswaal an outright villain, I do love a good protagonist/antagonist showdown and that bet declaration was freakin' palpable. If Subaru fails to save Sanctuary and the mansion, he'll do whatever Roswaal says, in any life or loop. If Subaru manages to save both, Roswaal throws aside the book whose future predictions he's trying to make come true and fully aid Emilia in becoming king. It's a real clash of wills, with Roswaal even being a good sport about it and giving a three day warning. That they're both doing it with smiles and seemingly no intention from either of them to cheat or not be good to their word makes it feel a lot more tense and exciting.

As I get older I notice I tend to have less and less patience for, what I call, "edgelord nonsense" and more and more appreciation for stories that understand the difference between just having mature elements and actually being mature. All the death, suffering, and horrors Subaru goes through makes the series dark but it's how the story uses such things for character exploration and growth that makes Re:Zero mature. Like his relationship with Julius, Subaru doesn't need to like Roswaal or forgive him for what he's done, similarly with Echidna and Garfiel, but he can put his feelings aside to work towards what's actually important. A couple volumes ago I praised the LN for acknowledging how the biggest gift to Subaru and weight off of him was simply being able to tell Echidna about everything that'd happened to him, something he'd never been able to do with anyone else. Now, we have the best thing Subaru can do for Emilia being for him to just ask her about what the tomb's challenge of her past is putting her through. No need for making deals with devils and witches like Roswaal and Echidna. Just be someone she can lean on and let her get stuff off her chest.

“So the memories you see in the tomb are from before you were frozen...and the forest was frozen when...?”

“Apparently, it was about a hundred years ago.”

“I see, a hundred yea...eh, a hundred years?”

...Is Emilia the Avatar?

“I...kept growing physically while I was inside the ice. That’s why, right after I woke up, it was like being in another person’s body, enough to make me trip and slip up all over the place...”

No, she's Lion-O!

—Emilia was a hundred and fourteen years old, eighteen years old going by outward appearance, and mentally, fourteen years of age.

The mental age somewhat concerns me. I suppose she has commented sometimes on viewing Subaru somewhat younger than he is, such as 12 instead of 17, but that definitely makes the idea of being in a romantic relationship with her somewhat shaky.

“I made a promise with Roswaal.”

His breath caught. That one phrase, promise with Roswaal, sent a shudder through him.

What kind of promise had Emilia, tormented by loneliness in the forest, made with the devil that was Roswaal?

“He made me hold the crest he had...after he made sure the Dragon Jewel was glowing, he spoke about the royal selection, but, I didn’t understand a single thing about the Kingdom of Lugunica.”

Of course she didn’t. There was no way a girl who had lived in the forest since infancy would know about the outside world. So just how had Roswaal lured Emilia out of the forest? That was—

“To me, who understood nothing, Roswaal said this. —If you are able to gain the throne, surely your wish to melt the forest’s ice shall be granted.”

“ ”

Subaru imagined his seething blood blotting his entire vision red.

Roswaal had used Emilia’s pure, innocent wish to lead her out of the forest. That Emilia held the qualifications to join the royal selection was probably written in the book of knowledge.

Not because he held any hopes for Emilia, but merely so that he might add the strongest card fated to appear under Emilia—a card named Subaru Natsuki—to his own deck.

That's a hell of a bomb to drop. It also makes me curious (especially if it's something that was mentioned and I've forgotten about) if Roswaal's acquisition of Rem and Ram was somewhat similar. That the book directed him to take them in either because of how they'd someday tie in to Subaru or something else he wanted.

But jeez, yeah. More of Roswaal being a manipulative monster. While Emilia obviously was too innocent or ignorant to know what was really going on, I'd have to assume Puck would have been at least somewhat suspicious, if not outright seeing through what Roswaal was up to. So was he in on the plan too, perhaps with his own agenda attached? Or maybe he was unable to stop Emilia? Like her mind was too made up for him to keep her from accepting the deal or Roswaal came at a time he knew Puck would be asleep in his crystal to recharge and thus wouldn't be able to interfere.

Of course she had failed. The past was something you regretted, but could not change. There was no way to win against regret.

Stuff like this really does make the past trial Subaru faced even better. Yeah, he regretted his past and couldn't change what'd happened. But he could still move forward from that point of regret. Accept the past and still try to be the person he wants to be; Rem's hero, Emilia's knight, and his parents' son.

Something I've noticed for me as I've been reading these light novel series is my varying interest in the action scenes. Obviously action tends to be more captivating in anime because it's animated. You're getting to see it as opposed to it being explained to you what's happening. Rising of the Shield Hero is a series I quite like but some of its action scenes can feel a little dull in the LNs because there's so much happening and it can be very power-level based. Looks great in animation but somewhat lacking while reading, which is why my favorite fights involved the characters countering each other or bringing back tactics or information they'd learned prior to give them an edge.

All the other LN series I've been reading don't tend to have the same problem. With Overlord, all the main characters are supposed to be completely overpowered, so the point of a fight isn't to see if they can win but rather how insurmountable a wall the Nazarick forces are for the new worlders and the effect such beings have on the world. In Konosuba, the fights are much more comedic, keeping them entertaining even when not action-packed. In Goblin Slayer everyone has very consistent power levels and the battles are more about tactics, prep, and planning, which is more interesting to read about than just a clash of swords. And here in Re:Zero, we have characters like Subaru and Otto where it's made quite clear they have absolutely NO CHANCE of beating most enemies in an actual fight, so their action scenes are less a clash of powers and more about how these people with nothing manage to squeak out a win against such impossible odds through wit, trickery, tactics, and experience from the hardships they've been through. Garfiel could easily kill Otto, that much has been made very clear throughout the various loops. Otto managing to hold Garfiel off, stall him, and even pickpocket him in spite of that is far more interesting to read about than a straight-up fight would be between Garfiel and someone more his equal.

And speaking of Otto, that's a hell of a backstory. I enjoy peace and quiet, so growing up with that much constant noise would be maddening. And then years later some dude getting the idea in his head for some reason that his girlfriend had cheated on him with Otto and then Otto getting beaten up by the man and then nearly killed by assassins sent by the girlfriend AFTER he discovered the truth that she'd actually been with seven other men, none of whom had been Otto. No wonder he's friends with Subaru. They most suffer through intense misfortune, some of which caused by their own social cluelessness.

The blessing had made Otto temporarily distance himself from his family’s love, created a chasm between him and many friends, and had landed him in predicaments others could not comprehend. He bore the suffering of not being able to convey to others words known only to him. He had become resigned to this, which eventually coalesced into despair he felt toward himself.

—This was the same anguish Subaru had harbored before revealing his troubles to Otto.

I suppose that is another thing for Subaru to realize and why he had such trouble asking a friend for help without proof of his claims. People aren't static beings. Otto's existence doesn't just begin and end at "timid merchant" any more than Subaru's does "Boy who loves Emilia". People have their own histories and troubles they've had to deal with. Otto's own, the life he'd had before he'd even even met Subaru, allowed him to near perfectly sympathize with what Subaru was going through. Like with Rem's past making her feel the need to compare herself to her sister and make up for her guilt to the point she nearly has a breakdown, people around Subaru have existences outside of him and those existences can have them more than understand the problems he faces when he brings them to their door.

“Hah! To be honest, Ram cannot understand why he expects so much of Barusu, either. Barusu is weak, useless, and his talent is insufficient even for pouring a single cup of tea. My opinion is the same as yours, Garf.”

“That is going too far......though, on second thought, perhaps not...”

“But when he is most needed, Barusu is a man with oddly good timing.”

Ignoring Otto’s nervous attempt of support, Ram maintained a casual tone as she made that firm declaration.

Her words made Otto widen his eyes, and Garfiel grimace.

“It’s timing. A man who’s there when you need him. That is Barusu.”

Even though, in normal times, he was a useless man with seemingly no redeeming features whatsoever, the human being named Subaru Natsuki was a man who was mysteriously at exactly the time and place you wanted him.

There was nothing attractive about him, and he was without a single shred of charm as a member of the opposite sex. Ram didn’t understand what part of him was any good; indeed, she found him irritating. —When was it that...? At the moment, it didn’t matter.

I'm being reminded of when one of Genie's suggested compliments for Aladdin to give Jasmine is that she's punctual. Also, I'm guessing the memory Ram's having trouble with regarding Subaru was when they faced off against the shaman and other dogs because that event heavily involved Rem.

It occurs to me that, since it's taking place inside her tomb, Subaru and Emilia's shouting match has got to be one hell of a show for Echidna. I'm just imagining her silently munching down on popcorn as she's captivated by the whole thing (though I suppose those little tea cakes would probably be more accurate, huh?).

I've made it no secret that I ship Subaru with Rem more than I do Emilia. Obviously, as I figure Emilia is the main love interest, I do try not to have a bias against that pairing. Stuff like this funny enough does help me like the two of them together a little more. A shouting match, of all things, but I think the big part of why it works is because it's honest. Part of what held the two back as a pairing for me was because they felt a little impersonal towards each other. Like there was this wall of formality between them; neither getting too close to the other as to not upset or lose the other. Heck, Subaru references something like that earlier in the book regarding why he didn't asked Emilia about her past or the trial before, because he didn't want to see the scars. Here though? They're yelling and airing all their honest feelings, positive and negative alike, and Subaru basically saying "Yeah, everything that's been happening does make you look sad and pathetic and weak and so much else but it doesn't matter because I love you, you idiot! And stuff like that isn't going to make me stop loving you!" It's funny how much different it is from Rem's confession to him but it fits his character more to do it like this, and more importantly it's not him just copying Rem because it's what worked for her to help pick him up out of his lowest moment. It's Subaru genuinely learning from and understanding what Rem did for him and thus why he's able to get through to Emilia. If I'm going to want two people to be together romantically, I shouldn't feel like those two are having to hide parts of themselves or walk on glass around the other. Their shouting match is Subaru and Emilia showing their truest selves to each other and being as honest as possible and I like that. It's a massive step forward in their relationship.

Hang in there. Do it. You may not know how or why, but if you stand and run, you’ll get somewhere.

—The inside of his chest was hot.

“Isn’t that right, Garfiel...?!”

He called out the name of the small-looking man before him, eyes swaying weakly.

—The inside of his belly burned.

“Isn’t that right, Emilia...?!”

He called out the name of the girl watching them from behind, the one who was sandwiched between weakness and the threshold of something yet unknown.

—Something from the back of Subaru’s eyes flooded out.

“Hey—isn’t that so, Rem?!!”

He called out the name of the one who’d made him lift his face, open his mouth, open his eyes wide, and stand tall.

The one who had taught him that even when your feet were stopped in surrender, that didn’t mean it was over.

Subaru Natsuki desperately wished for the power she had given him then to somehow reach all the others.

I am such a filthy f**king shipper. I have the biggest smile across my face right now.

Having closed his eyes to so many things and averted his eyes from the future, he could not face Subaru; hence, he had not noticed.

—That where he leaped, invisible hands were waiting.

“This new move sure gives off a bad impression.”

That's probably not good. On the positive side, maybe this means Subaru will eventually be able to "fly" around like Petelgeuse could, all curled up in a ball.

Ram giving a lap pillow is not something I expected in this, or any, lifetime.

I'll be honest, start of this arc, I wasn't expecting much from Garfiel, but I really like what the story's done with him. Beyond just Subaru bringing him down to his level so that they could have a "fair" fight (nice little victory against the non-present Roswaal regarding how the strength Subaru borrows from others helped him beat an impossible obstacle (again)), but his issues regarding his mother and Sanctuary are genuinely compelling. The audience goes from thinking he simply hates his mother for abandoning him to his despairing confession that the trial showed him she died nearly as soon as she left. There's him reverting to beast form because his conscious mind can't bring himself to kill. There's his whole inability or unwillingness to move forward. And then there's his great lines where he finally admits he wants to be wanted. I'm really feeling for the guy.

Also, for whatever reason I really enjoy the dynamic of someone serving proudly under someone they know they're way stronger than, because they respect them that much. I look forward to seeing what happens with "General" Subaru.

“Well, I went inside, okay? So I was in the back there, too...”

“Ahh, so you were.”

“That’s why I saw. The, uh, product of all the general’s hard work.”

Huh?

“N-nooooo...! I forgooot! I mean, I mean... I didn’t expect you’d actually go into the tomb yourself...s-so, if you went in, you...aaaahhh!”

Covering his face with both hands, Subaru squirmed as he fell on the spot.

Shame. Shame strong enough to want to die. Few were the souls who could live with so much shame. That moment, he detested Garfiel, perhaps hating him more than when they’d come to deadly blows.

Uh...

As he rested, exposed to lukewarm gazes, Subaru prayed for Emilia’s good fortune, simultaneously praying that she would not notice the “graffiti” he had left behind.

Now that someone else had seen them, those little love letters had become quite a farce.

UHHHH-!

The pictures were the adorable Pucks that Subaru had drawn many times before. The drawings of Puck had various expressions on them, and surrounding these were writings in I-script, as if they were written by little children.

“Hang in there, you can do it.” “Puck and I are both cheering you on.” “Once this is done, let’s go on a date.” “I’m counting on you, Emilia.” “I love you. That’s why I believe in you.”

“Idiot...idiot, idiot, idiot... Subaru, you...dunderhead.”

Oh, thank god. My mind went to a WAY different place when they started talking about graffiti and shame and "love letters" and I am so happy I was wrong.

“—My name is Emilia...just Emilia. The Freezing Witch who hails from the Great Elior Forest.”

Emilia could tell that naming herself rubbed the Witch the wrong way.

Privately satisfied with that reaction, Emilia jabbed a finger toward the Witch, seemingly shooting right through her into the sky.

“Another Witch’s malice will not affect me. —I am a troublesome woman like that.”

Oooooooh, Emilia is pissed at Echidna for hogging all the fans during season 2 and she's not gonna put up with it anymore. Seriously, this series knows how to end on good cliffhangers, which ironically was my initial fear that kept me from starting the LNs for a time. I was worried the last available book would end with an equivalent to Subaru's third death in Arc 3 and I wouldn't be able to move forward for months until the next book came out.

Thankfully, my procrastination has awarded me with vol. 14. See you there.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/kg20wg/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_13/

#re:zero #random thoughts #reddit repost

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