#one could look at her first manifestation forming from looking up to jokers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

@hood-ex

Okay but re: the subject of wingfic.....picture this....His Dark Materials style AU where instead of kids having daemons who shapeshift until they settle, kids have wings that are constantly shifting and trying out new forms until they settle.

And maybe Dick’s generation is the first one to have this.....like, the DC multiverse is constantly having these universe-altering Crises, that are all metaphysical and unleash and reshape cosmic and universal creation energies....and early in Dick’s tenure as Robin, let’s say the DC multiverse undergoes a Crisis whose resolution has an unexpected side-effect.....at that point forward, teens begin manifesting their like, soul or whatever, in physical or metaphysical form, in the shape of wings.

They first pop up around when kids start entering puberty, and tend to settle around them kinda ‘finding themselves’ as adults....and we’re not talking just bird-type wings. Wings of any kind, any shape, any material. They’re described as ‘metanatomy’ not in the sense of metas having altered anatomy but more in the sense of how metaphysical relates to physical.....these wings don’t have to prescribe to any biological or anatomical rules because they’re not biological in nature. Kory’s people describe the wings as a child’s ‘over-soul’ - a manifestation of their fundamental, individualized essence that’s overlaid on top of their physical self.

So, many wings are bird-like in nature, physically capable of being touched, damaged, healed, etc....but just as many are batlike or dragon-like, they can be just wing-shaped and made of fire, they can be mechanical appearing or insectoid or pretty much anything. There was a period when Dick was around fourteen when his wings were just wispy wing-shaped stormclouds behind him, lightning constantly flickering up and down their lengths as though it were the wings’ veins.....another period where they were just giant sweeping shadows behind him that he could nevertheless fly with, and while he was Robin, they most consistently manifested as bright, gleaming swaths of luminescence that glowed as though they constantly had spotlights trained on them.

(Which had Bruce paranoid it would just make Dick an easy target, until they realized that a ‘side-effect’ of Dick’s wings when they looked like this was instead of making it easier for the bad guys to train their weapons on him, even the most hardened villains would find themselves hesitating to pull the trigger. Some kind of pulsating, emotion-laced effect of those wings drawing their attention was it was more like moths drawn to a flame....they were so busy being momentarily entranced or hypnotized by the spectacle of them that they were usually a second too late in actually firing....by which time Dick was in a position to strike them first. Well, at least that’s how it went until the Joker managed a lucky shot anyway. But then, when isn’t that asshole an exception to the rules?)

Some wings had little quirks or fringe effects that went with them taking on a certain form or appearance....though those didn’t tend to stick around when the wings shifted to a different appearance, unless a person’s wings settled in the shape a particular fringe effect was associated with. Like when Roy hit adulthood, his wings settled in the appearance of bright red feathered wings with black accents......his wings are fairly small and not suited for long range flight, or even flight in general, as they tend to be more useful in helping him glide in short, quick spurts. But they also come with a perk unique to him....when Roy uses his own feathers to fletch his arrows, those arrows never ever miss.

In adulthood, Donna’s wings settle as giant bird-like wings, all black feathers with silver specks of stars scattered all across them, same as her Troia costume. They’re like patches of night sky sliced straight out of the heavens, and when Donna’s in costume she’s impossible to see cutting through the dark. Her huge sweeping wings would cast an easily noticed shadow over the ground if not for the silver specks dotting her feathers, but thanks to those, by the time she’s close enough for you to make out her features, distinct from the night sky, its far too late to do anything but go oh fuck.

Wally’s wings are more of a presence than a visual. Hummingbird type things that match his speed but never manage his stillness. Beating at the air a furious several hundred wingflaps per second, so even when he’s standing still he’s far from motionless....the air around him thrumming with movement, humming with vibrations that make it look like he’s constantly surrounded by shimmering ribbons of heat baking off an asphalt pavement. And again, that’s when he’s just standing still. When he actually gets agitated, they hit the air like a thunderclap. Sparks shooting up from the points of contact as the friction of them is so fast and furious it ionizes the atmosphere around him all on its own.

Garth’s can be a bit unwieldy when on the surface, but in the water they make him glide faster and smoother than any Atlantean before him. Stretching out from torso to underarms like the wings of a manta ray, they’re black and gray and streaked with purple like his eyes and the tattoo around it, just inverted. The material of them thick and coarse enough that when he flings his arms out or wrapped around himself just so, the folds of his wings draped around him create a dense barrier capable of shrugging off any number of projectile impacts.

Vic’s are mechanical marvels, smooth and sleek metallic expanses that aren’t dissimilar to Marvel’s Archangel, but where Warren’s feathers are knife-like flechettes, Vic’s host a variety of sensory arrays and feed him all sorts of data. Gar’s never fully settle....they shift as often as he does, sometimes vast and feathered, sometimes batlike and leathery....always green though, and always there no matter what animal he shifts into. He’s never a snake so much as a feathered serpent, a pegasus instead of a horse, a manticore instead of a mere lion, and well, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen Beast Boy take to the streets of Manhattan as a T-Rex with giant pterodactyl wings. Why his wings never fully settle could be due to his shape-shifting or it could just be in his nature.....Gar’s the original Lost Boy who’ll never FULLY grow up.

Raven’s are purple and black on the outside but bone-white on the inside.....like her empathy, they cut both ways. When she pulls her wings tight around her and someone else like a protective shroud, they can shield her and those in her care from prying eyes and scrying magic....when she throws them wide and strikes out with them at enemies on either side, the touch of her feathers is like feeling the cold of the grave. Kory’s are a deeper, royal purple juxtaposed beside Raven’s shadowed inky violets.....but rather than feathered, Kory’s are tall and draconian, imperious and imposing canvases adorned with swirls of red and green like nebulas painted across a cosmic backdrop. Curling emerald flames lick around the edges of them just like her starfire sometimes dances through her hair.....even when ‘ablaze’ her wings are cool to the touch if she invites you to touch them, but touch them uninvited and you’re going to get burned. Badly.

Lilith’s are four enormous feathered wings of green and gold and black spread behind her like the many layered wings of a seraph. They’re decorated in various places with dark concentric circles like those found on peacock feathers....until those circles flare and open wide and you realize you’re staring at dozens of eyes that are all looking back at you.....each a window to your own soul, freezing you in place with a glimpse of your own darkest secrets or possible destiny.

Joey’s are many-hued mosaics, like wings made of stained-glass windows. Hazy and indistinct shafts of rainbow light slanting through his varied ‘feathers’ when he spreads his wings in the air behind him.....like viewing screens or windows they show glimpses, afterimages of everyone he’s ever joined his soul to when riding shotgun in their bodies.....making them forever a part of him, a link he can tap into at will and rendering his power less about possession and more about connection, a forever-door that lets him merge with one of his previously tethered-to teammates, no matter where they are in relation to him. But with the slight change that now what he makes up for in range, he loses in stealth, as his wings show up behind the body of his ‘host’ for as long as he remains merged with them.

And Dick’s wings finally settle in adulthood to sweeping feathered wings of blue and indigo banded with gold.....but where his presence is less attention-commanding than in his younger years, his impact is definitely felt. As his settled wings act as an epicenter for a kind of gravitational bubble around him that’s keyed to his mood.....when he’s lighthearted and in high spirits, everyone around him feels a little bit lighter, purely in a physical sense, gravity within his sphere of influence being a little less heavy, leaving his friends and teammates a little lighter on their feet, quicker in their reactions, etc, etc. When he’s feeling heavy though, his immediate environs feel it with him - though that’s not always the worst result when surrounded by enemies he’s better off having feel overburdened, weighed down, like they’re struggling to get to their feet and the air itself is sitting a little heavier in their lungs every time they take a breath.

128 notes · View notes

chao-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

DELTARUNE SPOILERS

Heyyy! I wrote a thing involving Jevil and the Chapter 2 Superboss! I'm going to put it under the cut, but at the end, there will also be an Ao3 link if you wanna support me there!

Thank you! Remember to Reblog if you wanna

The Lightner Trio walked down the stairs in the Queen's massive manor, their hurried footsteps echoing like a rough pitter-patter in the technological nightmare. The massive lair confused and bamboozled them, but they definitely wanted to figure out the mystery behind what the Fountains were about, what Queen's true intentions were… and what was in the basement?

"Uhh… Kris?" Ralsei asked, his soft voice echoing out. "Why are we even here? Aren't Queen, Noelle, and Berdly upstairs? And not here…?"

Susie quickly interrupted him, punching his arm lightly to get his attention. "Of COURSE they aren't here. But whatever is here is probably important. Right, Kris?"

"I guess!" The currently blue human replied. "I've been asked by some… guy, about doing these weird favors for him. He really wants me to be alone."

"We sure he ain't a p-" Before Susie could finish her thought, Ralsei muffled her mouth with his scarf. "Who is he? And why does he want you to be alone?"

"His name is Spamton, I think. I don't know much about him, but he gave me this Loaded Disk earlier, and--"

Suddenly, a strange, chaotic voice rang out. Everyone recognized it. The tail attached to Ralsei's cloak popped off, diamonds and hearts flying out with it. The tail spun and took form, and the chaotic Jester they quite literally put to rest yesterday was reawakened.

"Spamton? SPAMTON? The same Spamton who wished for me to go, to go, and be free, free?" Jevil laughed chaotically, with Ralsei caught quite off guard. "You know him?"

"That dorito chip was part of the reason why I was set free, he was! He used to rule this world, before the Queen I've been hearing oh so much about took over. Oh, I MUST know more of how you met that ridiculous lunatic! And that's coming from ME, ME! Spamton, oh Spamton, I'd like to have a word with him~!" Jevil looked quite pissed off, his normally jovial expression looking slightly stern.

"I didn't wanna go down there anyway. Just come back, okay? You're kind of carrying us with your defense boost." Kris, with a neutral expression, gave the clown the disk they were gifted by the malignant salesman, and watched as Jevil immediately sprinted off into the basement. They could hear an echoed "Buh bye~! I'll be back in a few hundred words!" As the jester descended into the decrepit basement below...

Jevil entered the musty, rotting cellar. Despite him rarely stepping on the ground, each step he did take left a haunting impact on his feet. It was silent, save for the occasional rustling of his clothes. He didn't have long to do this. His physical form only had a few hours to be out and about before he solidified, just like the young boy and the puzzle freak. Thankfully, that's all he needed. He was getting excited, almost giddy, to interact once more with his old acquaintance. Oh, what a wonderful conversation they'd have!

He didn't walk for too much longer before he found the train station that was buried deep below. Or was it a roller coaster? Whoever had this built clearly had some elaborate roundabout in mind… too bad they were still imprisoned, haha! Jevil walked and floated across the tracks, reaching a room with a decaying robot inside.

He knew this was a bad idea. But when did he ever have good ideas?

Without hesitating, the joker put the disk into the robot. At first, nothing happened, and he was getting impatient VERY quick. He gave the robot a swift kick in the lower area, before stepping back out of the room.

Step…

SLAM! The clown was admittedly caught off guard with how fast the silhouette from above came and pushed him onto his knees. With a small gasp for air, Jevil looked up slowly at the encroaching menace. The jagged movements, the glitchy, unsolidified form… this was him alright.

"KRIS… MY LOYAL [Sponge!] THANK… YOU. THE [Clown Around Town!] I REMEMBER YOUR [Disgusting] FACE. EVERYONE WAS SO [Thrilled] TO SEE YOUR [Calcified] FACE." The massive robotic behemoth loomed over Jevil, rage in his glasses. Spamton NEO.

The clown got up, a smug, shitfaced expression on his mug. He knew damn well that the dorito in front of him was pissed off, so he leaned back in the air to retort. "At least I drink plenty of milk, uee hee hee! As for you, you haven't changed one bit since we last spoke~! Or would it be a byte, a byte? Regardless, I do hope you've given up on the illusion of freedom, freedom~! The only one who can be free is MEEE!"

The robotic menace swung around to the other side of Jevil, making it very clear who was in charge of the conversation. A small concentrated blast of Pipis was fired at the jester, pushing him back with a surprising amount of force. "YOU ACT SMUG, BUT YOU [Crashed our stocks!] AND THEN YOU [Spoiled relations with our Esteemed Partners!] I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU… GOT IN HERE, YOU… [Tuna Fish,] BUT I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR [Roundabout!] AGAIN!"

Jevil laughed maniacally at this thought. This guy was mad! Over something that happened how long ago? Why even bother holding a grudge still? Petty, petty! He knew why, and it's why he came back too. "You influenced him. That pretty little kitty. You gave him enough funds to release me into that carousel of bliss and innocence! But I wasn't done, not one bit! And all those years, spent being free… they made me realize something, my dearest Spamton."

The oddly calm tone coming from the jester put Spamton NEO at an incredible amount of unease. "WHAT? WHAT COULD YOUR [Calcified Lump] THINK OF THAT WOULD MEAN ANY GODDAMN THING TO ME?"

"I CAN DO ANYTHING!"

The joker used his latent power to pelt the giant mecha with small white hearts. Spamton was caught off-guard, stumbling back a fair amount. Of course, you have to fight fire with fire, so the robot used his abilities to send out a Big Shot of blue Spamton Head Pipis.

"YOU [Saturated Marketshare!] YOU CAN'T SIMPLY ATTACK ME AND EXPECT IT TO WORK [As seen on TV!] I'M A [BIG SHOT!] [BIG SHOT!!!]"

Jevil hopped up onto the ceiling, clearing the first few Pipis on the lower row heading his way. Unfortunately, the higher row caught him clean in the face as he bounced between the two, making a small Jack-in-the-box melody as he pinged around.

"SPAMTON, MY BELOATHED! I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE TRAPPED IN A CAGE WITH A SHARK, A SHARK! YOU GET BITTEN AND CHEWED UP!"

The fool retaliated by running circles around Spamton, turning into a carousel of horse bullets! The robot, in a surprising feat of puppeteering, dodged the attack almost perfectly… until a stray horsie cut a string, sending the mech's right arm into the horse race. One thing about arms with cannons on them? They fire.

As soon as it happened, Jevil was face to face with a swarm of Pipis all around him. He was stuck. All of them exploded brilliantly, sending the clown flying clean across the rotting tracks and into the wall. Tauntingly, mockingly even, Spamton NEO retorted.

"I'M THE SHARK NOW, JEVIL! I'VE CHEWED UP SO MANY [Failed Buisness Partners] THAT I COULD MAKE A WHOLE [Presentation] OUT OF THEM! STAY OUT OF MY GODDAMN WAY, OR [Sparkle like new!] YOU BRAT."

The buisnessman charged at Jevil, his hands becoming phones. "IT'S FOR YOU." Suddenly, before either of them could react, loud blasts of garbage noise manifest expelled from the phones, attacking the court jester with white blasts of energy. There was nothing he could do to stop this robot's onslaught, it looked like.

"OH SPAMTON, IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SO POWERFUL RIGHT NOW, NOW? I'D SUGGEST YOU LOOK UP, UP! YOU'RE NOTHING WITHOUT THOSE STRINGS IMPRISONING YOU, UEE HEE HEE! YOU'RE NOT A BIG SHOT, YOU'RE JUST A LAZY FRAUD WHO CAN'T STOP HANGING ON TO HIM! I GUESS SLEEPING FOR 100 YEARS DOESN'T MAKE LITTLE OLD ME MISS MUCH, RIGHT?"

Without warning, Jevil was myseriously gone from his corner. The spamware looked frantically for his target, before being struck in the arm, the leg, and the chest by scythes. Devilsknives. The last knive cut a few strings clean off the puppet, who briefly hit the ground before rising back up.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! [Hyperlink Blocked.] I'M STILL HIS LOYAL ASSOCIATE! HE MAY NOT HAVE TALKED TO ME IN [Employee of The Month for 144 months!] BUT HE'S STILL THERE…"

Jevil interrupted him cleanly and concisely. "FACE IT. YOU'RE NO BIG SHOT ANYMORE, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. ALL YOU ARE IS A FAILED INVESTMENT, UEE HEE HEE!"

With those words, a purple blast came from behind the clown, striking the robot right in the noggin. He flew back a bit, giving the joker enough time to turn around to meet his esteemed guests.

"Ah, my imprisoners~! Didn't you guys have a Queen to rock-em sock-em?"

Susie immediately cut him off, as she punched him in the arm (causing his head to spring up, naturally.) "Well, Kris over here couldn't shake the feeling things were off. So they forced us down here, and now they're right. Somehow?"

"I know I'm right.. Jevil, who the hell is Spamton?" Kris replied, their worry about the situation starting to rise.

"It's of no concern to you~! His screws were almost as loose as mine, and I don't think it's my job to tighten them~! Uee hee hee! Thank you for the help, but I can do anything~! Even tell you guys that 3 coasters are about to come down and force you guys along for the ride~!"

Ralsei immediately stuttered something out. "Three… what?"

And just like that, with a loud rumbling, the heroes were swept up into 3 old, rusty carts, barrelling down the track. Jevil laughed to himself, proud of what he got to do. "Ah well, it's a shame I can't finish him personally…"

"But oh well! Are you proud, proud? They took care of him…"

"Doctor."

Ao3 Link!

#Deltarune #Deltarune Spoilers #Deltarune Chapter 2 #Jevil #spamton #kris #ralsei #susie #undertale #okay cool thank you byyyyeeeee

16 notes · View notes

nabigeshonidol · 3 years

Text

Backup

Persona 5 strikers spoilers under the cut! Mention and usage of Evokers are present here so just a heads up.

The group was resting up at Zenkichi’s safe house after narrowly escaping the police. A hard frown was on the idols lips as she ran the events of the last few hours over again in her head. One minute they were relaxing and the next they were running for their lives like fugitives. Thankfully they were able to slip out the back so the only face the police knew was Akira’s. She wasn’t paying attention to the other’s chatter until Ann spoke up. “You’ve been quiet for awhile Rise-chan, is something bothering you?”

Rise looked up at the mention of her name. “I was just thinking... if we only have to worry about the police then it’s a manageable situation. However... if they get involved then that’s when I get worried.”

At the mention of another group outside of the police, all chatter stopped. Rise didn’t need to look to know that all eyes were on her. As far as the police knew, they were mysterious criminals with unknown powers. The chances of the Shadow Operatives getting dragged into this were slim... if she was right. Though if the police did go to the Shadow Operatives, things would get a lot worse. Unless...

“Who are you referring to?” Akira spoke up, breaking Rise’s train of thought. “Why would you be worried if they get involved?”

Rise ran a hand through her hair, trying to find the best way to put this into words. She could tell that she’s increased the tension in this room by bringing it up. However, it couldn’t be avoided. “You know how I’m the navigator for the Seekers of Truth?” There were various sounds of agreement coming from the group. A quiet sigh came from her lips. She technically wasn’t supposed to bring this up. However, there was no way around it. “There’s an even older group of Persona users than us. I’m one of their auxiliary members. Which wouldn’t normally be a problem... except they are a part of the government.”

Sounds of shock echoed through the safe house. Rise glanced to where the door was and motioned for everyone to keep it down. They were still wanted fugitives after all. “They only know who Joker is. I didn’t tell them anything involving personal details except that you are all trustworthy Persona users. If they get involved there’s no way to hide from them, Fuuka-chan’s navigation skills are much stronger than mine.”

“So what do yo suggest we do? Turn ourselves in isn’t an option. Especially when Akane-chan is in danger.” Makoto crossed her arms, this new group sounded dangerous if they were included in this hunt. She watched the group with a frown on her face. Everyone was shuffling around with a degree of uncertainty. Given the present situation, she didn’t blame them. Though Rise still commanded most of the attention.

“It’s a race to see who can get in contact with them first. If we do, then there’s no worry. Mitsuru-sama is a very capable woman. The only problem for us is getting in contact with her.” Rise slid the backpack off of her back and moved it to her chest as she walked towards the back of the safehouse where there was a bit of room. She knelt down and placed the backpack on the ground and continued to rummage around.

“Don’t you have their number since you are a part of them? Why not call them?” Ryuji spoke up with a hard frown on his face. This wasn’t supposed to happen, they were supposed to take care of the corrupted adults not the other way around.

“The police could be looking for that and it would give away our position. I could throw something together to jam any tracking, but that might take too long.” Futaba glanced over at Rise from behind her laptop.

“If they didn’t pre-emptively contact them, then you’ll be fine.” Rise said before finding the object she was looking for. Thin fingers wrapped around the cold, metal object as she brought the item towards her chest. Her heartrate increased as she kept her back turned to them. Each breath came quicker and quicker as she swallowed and turned to face them. Wrapped in her fingers was a silver gun.

“Rise-chan! Let’s talk about this!” Ryuji was the first to notice the gun and he jumped out of his seat. They were just talking about how to contact this other group of Persona users. A gun seemed like the last thing that will help them out. He knew that wasn’t one of the toy guns they carried around for usage in the Metaverse.

Though it seemed like his words fell on deft ears as she brought the gun to her forehead. The others followed Ryuji’s action and jumped out of their seats.

“Rise-chan!” “Put the gun down! We’ll get through this!” “Dying won’t solve anything!” “Please! Don’t do this!”

The group pleaded with Rise to put the gun down, yet she paid them no mind. Her eyes were shut as both hands were wrapped around the handle of the gun. Her heart felt like it was going to rip itself out of her chest.

One. Two. Three.

CLICK!

The sound of the gun echoed through the safehouse as Rise’s head shot back from the force of the gun. However, no blood appeared. Rather blue fragments formed from right behind Rise, slowly forming into a solid mass behind Rise. It felt like an eternity for the Phantom Thieves, when in reality it was mere seconds before Kouzeon came into view. The gun still kept in Rise’s hands as Kouzeon lowered the visor over Rise’s eyes.

“WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!” Ryuji screamed, before Ann jumped on his back and muffled his voice. He felt like he was about to loose her, that she was going to sacrifice herself for their sake. He remembered the conversation they had after Shido’s palace exploded. Was this the same feelings she had back then?

The room went silent for a few moments as they waited to see if anyone heard them. When no one came knocking on the door, everyone looked back to Rise. They knew her power was different from their own. Yet to see her Persona manifest in the real world... that was something else.

“I told you, I’m an auxiliary member of that group. Which means I have access to their equipment and this Evoker allows me to summon in the real world. It’s a lot harder for me to do than in the Metaverse or TV World, but I can still do it. Now Futaba I need your help, Fuuka-chan is probably out of my reach. But with your support, I can find her.” Rise handed the Evoker to one of Kouzeon’s free arms, leaving both of her hands free.

“I can’t do that.” Shock and fear was still present within Futaba’s voice.

Rise could understand why, Futaba saw so much death. She remembered freaking out the first time she saw someone summon with an Evoker. Thankfully, Rise didn’t need Futaba’s Persona to manifest to do this. She reached her arms out. “Don’t worry about it, you don’t need to summon your Persona. Just give me your hands and I’ll help guide you through this.”

Futaba nodded her head and walked over to Rise slowly. Her entire body was still shaking from the experience. Though moments after joining hands with Rise did Futaba stop shaking. The two Navigators remained like that for about half an hour before Kouzeon retreated back into Rise’s heart. A tired but triumphant smile was on her lips. “We are good, they won’t come looking for us. Mitsuru-sama is also looking into ways that she can support us without drawing attention. Which leaves just the police to focus on.”

“Okay that’s good to know.” Akira nodded looking between the teams two Navigators with a relieved smile on his face. Though before they switched topics he looked Rise directly in the eyes. “Next time you need to summon like that, let us know please.”

“I can, sorry for scaring you.” A sheepish smile was on the idols lips as she rubbed the back of her neck.

#ლ phoenix is here to steal center stage from the jail rulers «au phantom strikers» ლ #persona 5 strikers spoilers #p5s spoilers

7 notes · View notes

classywritings · 4 years

Text

Soulmates

Description: soulmates exist. None know how they came to be, all the world knows is that somewhere out there, certain people are destined to be together. These connections manifest in many different ways—it can be often hard to decipher who ones soulmate is. Because so, some people in the world have made it their sworn duty to help those who are seeking out their soulmate. You yourself are determined to do just that, despite only being in high school.

Words: +1,700

Note: this is for day 4 of @p5auweek, which I’ve chosen the Soulmate AU for this day.

You hum thoughtfully, eyeing the list of names written in your notebook. As you go through them, you cross out names or place an ‘x’ next to it, being mindful to get everything correct. It’s only when you reach the last name that you pause, biting your lip. It’s your name.

Sighing in resignation, you snap your small notebook shut and stuff it back within your bag. Finding your own soulmate has proven the most difficult of them all. Even helping Anne Takamaki—who has a birthmark on her left calf that resembles nothing and had been thought to only be just that, but you revealed that it’s actually a soulmate mark after searching vigorously for someone with a similar birthmark—has been easier to figure out than your own. You’ve checked everywhere on your body for a sign of a soulmate, but nothing has ever appeared. No tattoos, no birthmarks, no writing, same colored eyes, red string of fate missing; your body gives nothing away. This all combined is making you lose hope as the years pass.

Frankly, you’re beginning to wonder if you even have a soulmate to begin with. Usually there’s some sort of sign by now. Sure, you could have have an invisible bond that only activates when you see or touch them for the first time, but those are rarer than having no soulmate.

You stand, sighing once again. You really shouldn’t be dwelling on this while you have work to do. Exams are coming up soon, so it would be best to go home and study for those before it becomes too late in the evening. Mind made up, you begin to make the trek home.

The subway is your first destination, since it would be too far to walk home from Shibuya. Thankfully the station isn’t too far, so it’ll just take a bit by train to get home. You make your way towards there, avoiding people in your way but still making good time. It’s only when you take a single step down into the station that you pause.

A hand flies up to your head as a sharp pain stabs through your head. You close your eyes, crying out as it continues, reverberating through your mind and even making your ears ring. Soon enough, it passes as soon as it came on, yet leaves you with an echo of the sensation. Once it’s gone, you slowly open your eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Breathing heavily, you look around you. No one saw, because no is around anymore. “Wait, what? Where is everyone? There were tons of people around me just a moment ago, I swear.”

Confusion rising, you look down into the subway. Apprehension settles in your gut. Something isn’t right and the core of it lies within the subway, you just know it. “People just don’t disappear like that. Maybe I’ll find them underground?” You sigh, looking around you once again before you make up your mind and head down the stairs.

The sight that greets you is even more perplexing. Your surroundings have been warped, the subway colored red and black and holding an overall ominous feeling. You continue downwards in search for other people, stopping when you reach a platform. Across the way you can see other people finally, yet there’s no way they could hear you from such a distance. Something within you screams to not disturb them, too.

Swallowing thickly, you take a seat on the platform, your body thrumming with energy. “Why does everything outside look normal, but down here it’s like this? None of this makes sense.” You scratch the back of your head, looking around you once again. No one else is within your proximity, which makes the sound of trains screech in your ears. “I guess it would be best to stay here for now. It looks as if the trains don’t stop here, but maybe if I wait long enough one will...”

Elsewhere, Joker and Fox are making their way back toward the entrance of Mementos. It’s slow going without Mona, but they’re making good time. Discovering Yusuke’s unique ability has put them both in a good mood as they chat more about it. However, the closer they get to entrance, the more uneasy he becomes as his excitement begins to melt away.

“Trickster.” Joker freezes in place suddenly, Fox stepping ahead of him until he realizes his leader has stopped moving. He calls his code name, but Joker pays him no mind, he’s too focused on the voice that spoke within his mind. “Send Fox away. Another lies ahead that thou must meet on thine own.”

Tilting his head, but not questioning Arsène, he looks to Fox. “Go ahead of me. I have something to take care of,” he briskly says to him.

Fox looks at him quizzically, his dark eyes studying Joker. A few seconds later, he nods. “Very well. Be careful, Joker. I will contact you when my piece is finished.”

Joker nods, watching Fox leave. It’s only when the other male has disappeared that he proceeds, though he cautiously makes his way forward. Arsène seems calm, which is his usual demeanor, yet he can feel his Persona’s silent excitement, too. It’s different from the usual excitement he feels during battle, this is much more profound and holds a weight he’s partially unsure about.

Finally, he rounds a corner. His eyes are immediately are drawn to the difference within this area. You. As he stands there, staring in wide-eyed shock, your gaze meets his.

Now it’s your turn to feel shock. You had seen another strangely dressed male walk past you and up back towards the entrance, but he had not acknowledged you at all. Even when you had called out to catch his attention, he walked past without so much as a glance. This time, however, this one is actually staring right at you, clearly giving away that he sees you.

You drop down from the platform, smiling in relief. “Thank god! The other guy that passed me didn’t even notice me. Can you tell me what’s going on? Everything is really strange and it’s honestly freaking me out a bit. There was no one on the streets and the subway...” You trail off, eyeing him some more. He wears a strange getup like the other male, and a mask is on his face, too. For a flicker of a moment, you wonder if this one is one of those phantom thieves you've heard rumors about at Shujin. Maybe it’s not a good idea to ask for his help, after all.

His shoulders drop from their tense stance then, as his expression melts to a more neutral one. It’s your turn to stiffen as he starts walking towards you. Images of danger and death start flashing in your mind, making your breath halt in your chest. Despite the terror building, you find yourself rooted in place, unable to make your flight. A small part of you, the part that isn’t being overrun with terror, is curious about what’s going to happen next. Something big is about happen, it’s sure of it.

Once within a few feet of you, he stops suddenly, the tails of his coat swishing in the wind that bursts through this place at random intervals. You two stand there, staring at one another. You contemplate running some more, but still find that you can’t even so much as move your toes.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you,” the male gently states. His dark gray eyes roam over you, before he purses his lips. “Is it true, Arsène?”

You look around the two of you, seeing no one else in sight. Who is he talking to? You’re about to ask this, but pause as the male sighs, then raises a hand to his face, partially covering it. You gasp as blue flames erupt across the upper portion of his face, his mask disappearing. You have little time to question that before a burst of the same blue flames appear before you.

Gasping, you stumble back away from the flames. They don’t touch you or give off any heat, but they still startle you. Transfixed, you stare as tall figure appears before you. It looks mostly human, yet black wings sprout from its back and its face looks demonic. Seconds after it appears, an unearthly and deep voice comes from it.

“I would not lie to thee. They are thy soulmate.” The male is obscured, so you do not see them narrow their eyes. Instead, you see the being turn its attention to you, getting down on one knee and raising a clawed hand. “I sense your dubiety,” the voice, which is undeniably masculine addresses you gently. “May I show you the truth?”

You stare, unsure what to do. Your curiosity wins in the end, as you nod slowly and reach out your hand. When your hand connects, nothing initially happens. “What”—

Then, it feels as if you’ve been struck by lightning. Ever hair on your body rises to attention, even the hairs on your head raise minimally. Gasping, but not pulling away, you stare ahead with wide eyes, seeing yet not seeing. After all this time, this has been what you were waiting for—you’ve found your soulmate. It’s clear as day now.

Arsène chuckles and just as soon as he came, he’s gone. His form flickers away, the blue flames dissipating slowly before winking out of existence. Once gone, your eyes move to look at the male, his hand now having dropped back at his side. He purses his lips, then opens his mouth to speak.

He doesn’t get a syllable out.

You rush forward, slamming into him. Not caring whether or not he reciprocates, you hug him fiercely, holding back the tears that you can feel welling up. After so long, you’ve finally found him. You’ve never known such unbridled relief until now.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he raises his arms and hugs you back, burying his nose in your hair while being mindful of his mask. Joker smiles softly, reaching up to stroke your hair. “Thank you, Arsène,” he murmurs. He never would’ve found out you were his soulmate had it not been for him, after all

#p5auweek #persona 5 protagonist x reader #joker (persona 5) x reader #soulmate au #hi this is late #but I wasn’t feeling good yesterday #so I decided to finish this today instead #I hope I’m portraying Arsène okay!

72 notes · View notes

aricazorel · 3 years

Text

N7 month prompt Day 2--Science

using this prompt list

this takes place during my Mass Effect story Broken Road found here on AO3 and features my OC–Lt. Commander Kora Reese.

Set during Broken Road Chapter 23 [1322 words]

Saturday, December 23, 2186, Commander Shepard’s Apartment, Silversun Strip, Citadel

It was intended as a joke. She knew that. But that’s not at all how she took it. Of course the target of the joke took it much better. He always had and probably always would. Kaidan Alenko was just like that. Kora Reese was not.

She watched from where she had perched herself on the back of the couch behind Kaidan as Joker asked a question simply meant to tease, not harm. Her fiancé had heard it a thousand times before and gave off a disinterested response. It was a simple explanation he had given dozens of times.

“So, Kaidan, I’ve never had the nerve to ask…The hair, man? Is that product or are you just naturally that uh…whatever that is,” Joker asked.

“Actually its because of static electricity. Biotics build up a static charge the same way a ship does during FTL. The L3 implants minimize the effects, but with the L2s, it can be pretty painful.”

“Wow. I was just screwing with you. Now I’m that asshole.”

“Yeah, you are that asshole,” Reese muttered as she took a swig of her beer.

Joker glanced up at her. “Hey! I’m sorry! I didn’t know! Kaidan straightened me out, okay?”

She huffed as Kaidan turned towards her. “He didn’t know, Kori. It’s not like biotics advertise the nuances of our abilities or what other things are involved.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve know each other for years. Joker’s served with a dozen biotics now…Wouldn’t the thought cross your mind that maybe biotics involved more than throwing people across the room?”

“I thought you liked throwing people across the room?” Joker muttered.

“Would you like me to demonstrate that on you?” Reese snapped back as she stood up.

“Hey! Whoa there! We don’t need any of that,” Alenko ordered standing up between them, hands held out towards Reese, know full well what to expect when her temper flared. “It was an innocent mistake, Kori.”

“Yeah, well, maybe people need to be more educated about the science behind biotics. It’s not like human biotics are new. First gen biotics are having kids now…”

“Look, all I know is not to piss you off and that both of you had a hell of a childhood as first gen biotics. I get that it sucked but you are pioneering way for the next generation to learn better,” Joker offered. “I mean on the Sr1 who would have though you would have let him teach you how to handle you biotics better or that now Kaidan would be a teacher?”

Reese glared even though she knew the smarts ass pilot had a point. Kaidan chimed in, “You know he’s right.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be on his side,” Reese muttered folding her arms. Of course Kaidan was just stating the truth. He wasn’t trying to be an ass about it, and he was just trying to keep her from doing anything hasty. He knew her too well and it was a party after all. One the Commander had let Joker put on for the crew to kick back and relax while they could. Being mad over something that clearly didn’t anger Kaidan wasn’t going to help with that.

“Fine,” she finally said as Kaidan gave her a knowing grin and motioned for her to actually sit on the couch beside him instead of behind him.

As she silently complied, he threw an arm around her shoulder. Leaning over he murmured into her ear, “You like my biotics. And that’s what counts.”

She nodded as Joker said, “Since you two are nerds why don’t you educate the rest of us about biotics?”

“Wasn’t the floor show earlier on the balcony with Vega enough?” Alenko asked as he turned back to his friend.

“Ah, no. That was just James running his mouth,” he replied. “I mean sure you can throw things but your hair? You explained yours but why isn’t Reese’s hair—”

“I’m an L3, Joker,” Reese interrupted in annoyance leaning across Kaidan towards the pilot on the other end of the couch. “Remember? I got the better implant because of a staged eezo accident over my colony. My home was destroyed, and I ended up being a first gen second exposure biotic.”

“But you’re still first gen…”

“I was older when I got my implant…My biotics didn’t manifest until I was a teen…I—”

“Wait! You lucked out with being a second exposure, ending up with the better implant but you missed out on the throwing people and things around as a kid. How is that fair?” Joker said with disappointment in his voice.

Reese wanted to be angry but how could she be? When the pilot put it that way and she knew he was trying to make up for the initial comment that had upset her. She made a face but allowed a grin to appear. She leaned back against Kaidan’s shoulder. “Fine, Joker. I get it. But you’re still an ass.”

“Yet I’m not the one who can sling my enemies around…”

“Biotics aren’t all they appear to be, Joker. You know the L2s have a slew of problems. L3s are an improvement but there are always…problems…” Reese explained as she felt Kaidan gently squeeze her shoulders. “I…because of how I was exposed the second time, it did more than give me biotics. It messed up my metabolism. I have to take metabolic stabilizers every day. I have an increased caloric intake, even for a biotics, and I metabolize things so quickly I can’t truly get drunk.”

“Wait! You’re complaining about not being able to get a hangover?”

“Well, yeah. I never got to have that experience. It’s all been vicariously experienced…Kaidan has been kind enough to help with that…”

“I am not drunk.”

“Not yet.”

“So does he glow when he’s drunk?”

“Yep.”

“Kori!”

“You see when a human is exposed to eezo they develop the ability to manipulate mass effect fields using dozens of element zero nodules within their nervous system that react to electric stimuli from the brain. Biotic Amps allow biotics to synchronize the nodules so they can form fields larger and strong enough for practical use. Amplifiers can improve a specific discipline or talent. The implant is usually surgically installed during puberty or later if you’re a second exposure like me,” Reese explained knowing she was nerding out and didn’t care.

“Kori, you don’t have to—”

“Hey, knowing the science behind biotics is something everyone should know. It might help facilitate a better understanding between those with the abilities and those without them,” the Lt. Commander said. “Anyway, certain movements become associated with certain biotics abilities. The firing of neurons associated with those motions help control a person’s abilities. But flaring isn’t necessarily linked to that. So to answer your question…Yes. Kaidan does flare or glow as you put it. Usually when he gets happy or really excited.”

“Excited? About what?”

“Kori!”

“About things they don’t teach you about in biotics training.”

“Reese!”

“In the bedroom.”

“Kora!”

“And you discovered all this for the sake of science?” Joker asked with a broad grin as Kaidan slumped against the couch, red as an N7 stripe.

“Yep,” Reese replied with a shit-eating grin. “I learned a lot from Kaidan’s training in the SR1. Of course not everybody was privy to that kind of private tutoring.”

“You can stop anytime now, Kori.”

“That’s not what you say when we’re alone…”

“Somebody please tell me I’m drunk.”

“Not drunk enough, Alenko,” joker noted.

Kaidan groaned as Reese ran her fingers through his hair. In his ear, she murmured, “I love you.”

“I know,” he said softly as he gave her a small grin. Science only offered so many answers and understanding it could only get a person so far. But the biotic that sat beside her, grinning like a school boy at her completed the equation her life had become. If science and nerdiness did not offer her answer, Kaidan’s smile always would.

#n7month #mass effect #fan fiction #prompts #kaidan alenko #kaidan x oc

5 notes · View notes

kittsfics · 4 years

Text

Birds Always Find Home

Read on AO3

Only two people have ever seen Jason’s wings.

He has vague memories of them before he was thrown in the Lazarus pits, great skeletal shapes over his shoulders, held together simply by magic. Nothing like they are now; powerful and beautiful, all muscle and dark feathers. Bands of browns and reds so deep they barely show among the black. But in the right light they're dazzling.

It takes him months to learn control, changing them from flickers at the edge of his consciousness to manifesting physically in the sanctuary of his bedroom. Always alert, never feeling safe, he never considered the league's compound a home. He longs to see if he can fly, if feeling the wind beneath his feathers can possibly feel as good as he imagines; but the complex is in no way a safe place for experiments. He has dreams occasionally, or memories perhaps, of Superman carrying him through the air, their hair blowing everywhere, both of them laughing. He longs to find out if flying under his own power is better.

He can’t wait to fly away.

Jason knows what the league expects him to do when he is finally returned to Gotham, what Talia trained him for, but he's always prided himself on being contrary. He's been wound up tight, then pointed straight at the Bats; Bruce himself of course, and Dick, but mainly the new Robin. Tim. Talia called him a replacement, said that he didn't deserve the place at Batman's side.

But the thing is, he knows Tim. Their quiet neighbour, always willing to escape to an out of way corner at society functions, with plates stacked high from the buffet, hiding a brain that Jason had been sure would rival Bruce's. Maybe he does now. But he also knows the stubborn kid with a camera, the one he'd never told Batman about, the one that had worked out their patrol routes and identities both. That could climb almost as well as Jason despite his tiny size, that Jason had offered to teach how to throw a punch, dodge hits, and eventually use a grapple.

All that it seems to him, when Talia calls Tim replacement, is that he's succeeded in becoming what Jason always knew he'd be.

Talia always emphasises Batman over Bruce, the fact that he had a new sidekick rather than a new son. Which Jason reckons is smart, because he's seen the kid that trails after her occasionally, the one that looks too much like Bruce, and knows she's counting on the fact that Bruce will always accept more children. Jason's always known he'd never be the last.

So when he reaches Gotham, he instead goes straight after Joker, the thick walls of Arkham still not enough to hold him. Batman gets between them, of fucking course, and the Lazarus rage in his veins screams at him to kill them both for what they did. Or for what Talia claimed they did? He's hazy on the details, and honestly in general, clarity striking him the same time a batarang does, catching him across his collarbone, too close to his throat. Jason does the only thing he can, he runs.

He lies low after that, no one seemed to have recognised him, and why would they, he's dead after all.

Staking out a claim in Crime Alley is easier than he'd thought; once he drove out Black Mask's men, most others fell in line. He slowly learns how to look after himself. Between the rage, ptsd and depression it's a miracle he has good days at all. But on those rare days, he finds out that flying is exactly as amazing as he always imagined.

Batman comes after him eventually, dragging Nightwing and Robin into the mess. But Jason stands tall, helmet off but domino over his eyes, and argues for himself. Makes a promise that is both easy and hard to keep, all depending on how close he is to the clown. He tells them about a boy with Bruce's eyes, Talia's smile, and knives never far from his hands. Too young to be involved in this war of theirs, but weren't they all once? The Bats are all snarling and suspicion, and that's fair, he's just revealed he knows who they are after all.

But they still don't recognise him, and he still doesn't blame them, but they fall into a balance anyway. He hates the way it feels like both an act and coming home.

Tim's the only Bat that's seen his wings, a result of a shared case, rain across the metal of a bridge tower and a small army of somebody's henchman coming after the two of them. One slip and a brightly coloured figure falling towards the rock speckled water below, grapple missing the support bars by inches.

Jason just reacts instinctively, throwing himself after, wings manifesting with a half formed thought, and he sees Tim's eyes widen under his mask. He catches the smaller figure, tucking him against his chest and spreads his wings, almost screaming at the pain in his shoulders as they take the unfamiliar weight. He manages to get them to shore, collapsing in an unlit alley. Then Tim's tugging at his helmet, Jason unable to make sense of what he's trying to say, and his wings feel like they're on fire.

Everything gets a little blurry after that.

He somehow ends up with the Outlaws on an actual real life fucking spaceship. The exact details are kind of hazy; when, where, that sort of thing. He's definitely not been as in control as he used to be, and memory hadn't been his friend since before his death anyway. Too many gaps, too many things he wasn't sure were real, too many nightmares he hoped had just been that.

But now he's in a spaceship with Roy and Kori, both in some ways as broken as him, and who understood more than he would ever admit. They fit, the three of them. And home becomes metal walls, Kori's excited shouts and Roy's quiet laughter. They fall into a rhythm of research and fighting and film nights and evenings on deserted islands.

He starts to find himself again. No that's not quite right, he'll never be that Jason again; the bright eyed Robin, the teenager with dreams of an English degree, maybe not even the Gotham street rat. But there are still fragments of those boys, he just needs to build around them.

Pit rage comes less often now, although through time or distance from the Bats he's not sure. They have a numerical system for all of them, where a six is a bad day and a ten is something they're all terrified off but they’ve never quite reached. Jason doesn't like to think of the days that come close. His memories start to settle, but there's no one he can ask to check they're settling right, he can only hope. Things start to feel less syrupy somehow, the dull edges of his life starts to sharpen, everything gains more clarity. His head, his heart, the world around him. He starts cooking again, picks up a book for the first time in years, joins Roy in tinkering with gadgets and Kori in watching those awful sitcoms from her home planet.

Somewhere along the line he starts feeling like a person again.

Roy claims he almost gave him a heart attack the first time he sees his wings, and maybe Jason will admit it's not his finest moment either. A desperate kiss on a rooftop then nothing but the archer's shout in his ear as Jason grabs him round the waist and throws them off the edge, the explosion behind them close enough to singe the edges of his feathers. Been there, done that, no thanks.

It takes him a few weeks to ask if he could see them again, voice hesitant, reverent even. And Jason learns exactly how much trust he has in Roy, in the two of them together. He also learns it feel incredible to have someone else's fingers run through them, light at first but quickly gaining confidence. Jason’s never been complimented so much in his life, Roy presses kisses across his body and promises to do better.

He stops counting how many times the archer sees them after a couple of months. How many times he buries his hands in them, how many times his knuckles brush across them where they hang over the back of the sofa, how many times they wrap around the two of them, blocking out the rest of the world.

He returns to Gotham as often as he can between missions, making sure the people he protects stay safe. He never tells the Bats, although Tim texts him ever so often. Just updates on what’s happening with the major players, how Damian’s settling into their mess of a family and pictures of Dick falling off things. He wonders how Tim knows he would appreciate them. It starts to feel less like a chore, and more like speaking to one of his best friends again. It hits him one night, curled up against Roy’s side, exactly how much he’d missed him.

The second time Tim sees his wings the two of them are sitting on the edge Wayne tower, ironically. Jason knows the cameras are off and Tim is dying to ask, so he manifests them, pulling off his domino; entirely unprepared for the choked whisper of his name and a little bird, a little brother, slamming against his chest, fingers frantically tangling in his clothes. All he can do is wrap him in his arms around Tim and hold him as tight as he can, pressing his face into dark hair, and eventually answer everything he can.

After that, home becomes Roy's arms around him, face tucked against his shoulder and drooling on his shirt, fingers that build bombs gently running through his feathers. It becomes Tim's voice over the phone, arguing with him about his newest case or telling him about his lunch with Alfred, making something in his chest ache. It becomes safehouses in Gotham, his brother sprawled out on the sofa, tapping away on a laptop or talking a mile a minute, drastically over caffeinated. But most of all it's lazy kisses and whatever bed he and Roy curl up in to catch a few hours sleep.

Home has always been the people he loved.

Toss a Coin to your Writer

#jason todd #red hood #jayroy #my fics #batfam

12 notes · View notes

twilightknight17 · 4 years

Text

So I was zoning out during work this morning thinking about how they made a big deal about deviations to Mementos floors being a thing that could happen, but I’ve literally only gotten two the entire game. That one time when they told me about them, I got a whole dark floor full of Treasure demons. And I got a dark floor one other time. I thought it was weird, because I didn’t visit Mementos a lot, but when I was there, I was there for long periods of time. It feels like something that should have happened more often.

I now regret every thought in my head about that subject.

So we’re heading back into Maruki’s Palace to try to route the Treasure, which... I don’t know. I’m not getting the impression that he has a specific Treasure. The whole thing with his fiancee was the instigating event, but...this is clearly not a normal Palace.

Ten Thieves is so many Thieves.

So she wasn’t Ribbon or Midnight. XD I like Violet, but at the same time, it feels like it doesn’t match her overall aesthetic. It fits her, but not how she looks, which means the Thief gear really needs an update.

Being Goro is suffering.

Sumire gets an actual, proper awakening, with actual blood! I knew there was something fishy about there not being any the first time around. I really, really wish her outfit had changed, though. Give her something unique to represent herself as her own person. Not Kasumi, and not Joker’s aesthetic. But okay, fine, be the only person whose gloves don’t match their core element.

Time to shove my whole team into a safe room!

...while I appreciate you not making a scene and understand why you have mixed feelings, I’d also just like to remind you that you were the one who said, “It doesn’t matter where you start over.” He’s...trying, Futaba.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room...

I guess not being at each other’s throats is as much as I can ask.

So I gasped out loud like an excited dork when I realized that one of the personas you can fuse now in the Velvet Room was Hastur (and it was also something I had to fight in the Palace). I should have figured that if Biyarki was around, the thing it serves wouldn’t be too far behind. Shame Hastur wasn’t the final boss, but I still think this is the first time he’s shown up since Innocent Sin, and even there he was like a weirdly-hidden secret. I’m honestly just nerding out. XDDD

The warehouse areas were fun to climb around in, and the monitoring room was about as unsettling as anything else so far. I do think it’s funny that everything is so sleek and sci-fi and whatnot and then...ceiling fan.

Anyway, we can’t get any further in the Palace here, so it’s off to Mementos. Another day, because god forbid we just go today. But that means I’m finally free from plot prison and all my friends want to talk to me again. I might have enough time to rank up Haru. I probably won’t have time for Shinya, but if I have an extra two days somewhere...

I feel so bad for Sumire.

Makoto has finally directly acknowledged that she plowed in head-first and was kind of stupid.

It would have been funny if her third-tier persona was just Anat riding Johanna, but the new bike is cool, too.

I’ve got four third-tier personas, rank 7 of Sumire, and rank 8 of Haru, but I’ve also got two Mementos requests, so I guess it’s time to go investigate.

...oh dear.

Apparently the Depths no longer exist. Iweleth opens directly into the Grail’s chamber. Which he’s filled with giant security cameras. What is he even looking at?

A whole new area has formed, going up instead of down. I wonder if it’s going to connect back into the Palace. It’s like he looked at Mementos and was like, “I’m going to make a better Mementos. With tentacle monsters and the color white.”

And what requests we have! A mother threatening to kill herself and her kid out of grief and depression, and a teenage boy that wants us to kill him so he won’t hurt his sister again. How dare I assume that utopia means less severe Mementos requests!

(In hindsight, there was one request a long time ago where we just talked down the person. It was the only time we’ve done that. You’d think we’d talk down the kid trying to commit suicide by phantom thief, but nope. He was fucking Yoshitsune and it was a nightmare.)

Please appreciate that I almost launched my phone across the room trying to get a picture of this Showtime activation dialogue before it disappeared. XDDD

So I’m pushing forward through Da’at looking for the next rest area so I can stop for the night, it’s probably two floors away, and my thoughts from this morning manifest to destroy me as we head up the escalator and Futaba announces, “Joker, this floor is dangerous! We need to get out of here as fast as possible!”

Okay, cool. It must be a deviation where all the enemies are the powered-up red-aura kind. I’ll just be ready to floor it around them and it’ll be---

...what’s that noise?

Watch out for the what?

So I haven’t seen the reaper yet. I’m pretty speedy in Mementos. And apparently there’s a deviation floor where he’s just there from the start. Stalking you around as you open treasure chests and scream and drive like a maniac. He almost cornered me in a dead end and if this was remotely realistic I’d have crashed the bus swerving around him. X’D

Thank goodness the safe floor was in fact two floors up.

Bonus:

Went to run around in the Den and spend more coins, and...

Iwai’s shop is...where, Akira?

I’ve got Shido’s statue and Yald’s statue around to bait Goro into commenting on them, and it finally paid off. XD He hates the big gold lion.

Yusuke says that he’s probably being a bit narrow-minded, and Goro shrugs him off with, “You probably felt the same about Madarame.”

Yusuke says that he understands that Madarame was not always a terrible person. Something distorted him into what he became. Goro doesn’t care that Shido was probably the same.

Which, all things considered.......fair.

#Li plays P5R #Mementos is upsetting today X'''DD

7 notes · View notes

aftermathdb · 4 years

Text

DEATH BATTLE Review: Black Canary vs. Sindel

So… Sindel for Injustice 3 then, or Black Canary for Mortal Kombat?

Gotta say, this being a Mortal Kombat episode and not really having the room to say Black Kanary is sorta annoying.

Well… Looks like they fixed… something here. These guys aren’t as nightmare-inducing as last time, but they are still kinda uncomfortable to look at.

Black Canary′s Preview.

DC History lesson time. A long time ago, the Justice Society of America were the first recorded instance of a group of Super Humans banding together to form their own group. This included plenty of crazy people, like a furry boxer, the manifestation of God’s wrath, and a Judo master known as Black Canary.

But the BC For this DC Rundown is the one that made it a household name, Dinah Laurel Lance. The second Black Canary.

Incidentally, Boomstick basically makes himself known as Barbara Dunkleman and Chuggaconroy’s love child in Canary’s rundown. I don’t know whether to cheer that thought on or to shudder at it, so I’ll leave it at that.

Anyways, long story short, Dinah would have not have started her Superhero career if not for a certain thing that happened to her.

Whether you believe that it was the Metagene or a wizzrd’s doing, Dinah developed the signature Canary Cry.

And as for a disguise, she originally wore a blonde wig, but eventually did a permanent dye-job of blonde. Or as Boomstick put it…

God, I love puns.

Dinah’s attack here is one of the most deadliest things in comic history, and when she amps it up, she can pull off so much crazy stuff that it almost sounds like Ollie is the one made of Kleenex.

With enough force, she can even fly. Doing so requires about 195 Decibels to do so, and I cannot tell you how much auto-correct was a friend of mine in writing the word “decibels.” That’s gotta be in the top 20 most misspelled words of all time or whatever.

Of course, this does lead into an obvious weak-point…

Attacking the throat disarms her voice.

Luckily, she’s basically a master martial artist to back her up, and Canary Bombs to do all the sonic screaming for her while she catches her voice.

This leads into a Wiz and Boomstick segment.

Also, yes. Expect that whole “CENSORED BECAUSE NIGHTMARE-FACE” thing to be a running gag for me. Hopefully until they f*cking fix that goddamn Boomstick smile! Yeesh! Not even the Joker makes me cringe that much.

Anyways, Dinah has some impressive feats, as the hosts go over

Then there was one time she did this:

Dinah also survived having her Canary Cry being reflected back at her. Admittedly, this is because of the “required secondary powers” trope being in action, but still, really impressive.

Now, Dinah once claimed that she could react to nano seconds. But that’s actually backed up. She outraced a Green Lantern’s scan on a robot, and has done some other crazy things.

And the end quote is pretty much the victory screen from Injustice 2. Which I can’t feel too upset about considering Sindel’s end quote.

Sindel′s Preview.

So, Mortal Kombat history lesson time. Edenia was a peaceful and prosperous realm, a Garden of Eden, if you will. Until the Outworld Emperor Shao Khan came along and grabbed it all for himself.

Feeling pretty good about himself, Shao Khan tried to take a shot at Earthrealm

Sindel turned out to be a Kung-Fu sorceress, who offed herself to keep Shao Khan’s next target, Earthrealm from being hit.

Khan’s answer?- Resurrect and brainwash Sindel and take Earthrealm by force.

And apparently, she could do it too. As the hosts point out, despite her being dead for a long time and the whole “From another realm” thing, Sindel is an expert in a couple martial arts.

And we also learn a few new things about Boomstick too. Like… How attractive he thinks Sindel is… I don’t blame him. Winx Club made me want to have the Wicked Witch of the West step on me. Speaking of witch, when Icy vs. Elsa?

Anyways, Sindel can create sonic screams known as the Banshee Scream, which can explode heads, rend flesh, or even strip off skin.

She can even concentrate them into balls of energy called “Star Screamers” And Boomstick brings up the obvious…

When Luna vs. Freddy Krueger, am I right?

Anyways, Sindel once used that Banshee Scream to blast apart a canyon.

It was comparable to a Magnitude 5 Earthquake.

For reference, that’s 500 Tons of TNT.

We get into our next Wiz and Boomstick segment…

Okay, can I just say that I really really appreciate it when the Wiz and Boomstick segments are used to further the analysis rather than just be there for a joke?- It feels a bit more appropriate that they went over Sindel’s strength level here than if this was just used as a joke piece for some gag that could have very well have fallen flat.

Tangent aside, they mentioned that Sindel is also comparable to Kabal, who could slash bullets from automatic weapons in midair. Putting Sindel at hypersonic levels.

She’s not doing so bad for herself as a… “Zombie MILF” (Boomstick’s words, not mine. Someone please ask what was up with that, ‘cause I’m sure as hell not doing that).

But whether you choose to follow the original timeline where she freed herself and retook the throne,

Or the new timeline where the coup was her idea,

You’re going to go down screaming if you stare down Sindel.

(Told you that Canary’s “end quote” was an appropriate compliment to Sindel’s)

The Battle Itself.

Luis and Kiid are maining the animation, Black Canary will be voiced by Blythe Renay and Sindel will be voiced by Caitlyn Elizabeth. , Brandon Yates is composing Sirens of Combat (Not spelled with a “K” unfortunately), and audio led by Chris Kokkinos.

So the fight story for this one is pretty basic.

It’s basically just Black Canary vs. Sindel in the tournament. And while I could make the joke of “We could have had the ‘FIGHT’ graphic come back for this” I’m… Probably going to redirect you to my DA Journal Entry where I point out that if they had really wanted to point to an episode to justify why they got rid of it, they should have chosen a better episode than Widow-Widow.

Back to the actual battle, right off the bat, it’s pretty easy and quick to see that Canary easily takes the speed advantage.

Sindel actually fails to land any blows until she grapples Black Canary and slams her around a few times.

Luckily, Canary has defenses for this sort of stuff, and counter-attacks. Also, I’m going to take this point and say that Sindel’s hair is really distracting. It’s like she’s just asking for it to be pulled, and given what Shao Khan basically does, that thought now fills me with squick.

By the way, if you’ve ever liked a beam struggle, you’re probably going to love a sound-based one!

Anyways, Black Canary manages to blow Sindel away and asks a question that I think a few MK fans have asked.

Sindel then states the obvious.

So we get into our finishing blow (Yeah, this one was kinda short)

Verdict + Explanation.

So, right off the bat, Sindel had some things that gave her an edge up.

Sindel certainly had strength in the bag.

But Canary’s seen and fought stronger. So it’s not a heavy-hitting edge.

Plus, Canary’s way faster.

Seriously. How does she not break Ollie when they put Arrows in the Quiver?

Plus, Canary has a massive edge in martial arts skills. She’s mastered over 15 while Sindel only really has two.

Of course, none of this really matters until we get into the big question: Which is deadlier?- The Canary Cry, or the Banshee Scream?

Black Canary’s current score clocks in at about 300 Decibels. Impressive.

Sindel’s score clocks in at 235 Decibels. Also impressive. But then Boomstick points out the obvious:

As it turns out, Decibels go up in logarithmic units, not geometric ones.

This means that Black Canary’s scream was over a million times more powerful than Sindel’s.

There was no way that Sindel was tanking any of that any time soon.

Like I said: Love child of Barbara Dunkleman and Chuggaconroy. Let’s throw Pearls Before Swine cartoonist, Stephen Pastis in there too.

Overall impression.

Short battle, but given that we’re getting 20 episodes this season, I’d say that this is a pretty good fight.

I’m not a fan of how they didn’t go over durability feats, I feel that that would have solidified the overall result a bit more. Admittedly, if each of them had just opened up with their strongest attacks, Canary would win that easy what with her 300 Decibel cry, but durability is one of the many major factors in the battle.

Also, Sindel’s hair was super distracting throughout the animation. Plus, we didn’t get to see a whole lot of stuff in the fight. If Canary had said something along the lines of “You’re strong… I’ve fought stronger.” in the battle, that would have better demonstrated that Sindel’s strength wasn’t anything new to her, and that she would be more actively moving to avoid hits.

7.6/10

Next Time…

So, remember how they said that Leonardo vs. Zits was originally going to be Leonardo vs. White Ranger, but was changed because of a poll?

We got ourselves a variant!

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

Leader-In-Blue vs. Red T-Rex.

#Death Battle #Deathbattle #review

3 notes · View notes

wahbegan · 5 years

Text

The Scary Asylum Trope (From Somebody Who’s Been Committed)

I can’t help but feel that the very loud and righteous voices of people with the best of intentions....who also have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about often overshadow those with a more nuanced and realistic view of the world because they’ve been through the shit. Especially on this site. In the real world, of course, both are drowned out by the man who both has bad intentions AND no idea what he’s talking about, but either way, the fact remains: people with first-hand experience of the ugliness of society saying shit nobody wants to hear, especially shit that makes the world a bit more morally grey and a bit more frightening than anyone would like to deal with are never listened to.

Although it’s often overlooked, I think we can all agree that the mentally ill and substance-addicted are among the most cast-off and overlooked members of society. Junkheads and crazies are already struggling to survive and nobody wants to give them a job, get too close to them, give them money, have them wandering the streets or coming into their businesses. Unlike other forms of oppression, one of the most insidious things about this is it’s opposed by almost nobody. “Don’t give that guy money, he’s a crackhead”, “stay away from that bum, she’s not right in the head, she’s dangerous”, “we can’t give you a job because of your history with substance abuse”, none of these statements are remotely controversial with the vast majority of people. A lot of people get angry when you say they should be or even suggest the mentally ill (not disabled, mind you, just ill) or addicted are even oppressed by society at all. Addicts, particularly. The general consensus is they ARE dangerous, they DO do illegal shit, they ARE unpredictable and unable to work reliably or have an interpersonal relationship with you, and most importantly...they brought this on themselves. This, of course, brings us to that great garbage bin of society’s dregs, the mental hospital.

Okay, so a bit of background. In Senior Year of college, I was alcoholic, cartoonishly depressed, and trying to deal with vague, unspecified shit that may have been trauma or a personality disorder or something I do not know, all I have ever been officially been diagnosed with is depression, but that doesn’t cover everything. I don’t know to this day exactly what’s wrong with me and I’ve gotten too old and used to it to really care enough to speculate. But long story short, one night I got too mouthy about a suicide attempt as I often do...to be honest, I think my crippling fear of the oblivion i believe follows death tends to manifest as loudly telegraphing my intentions to commit so that I have a chance to wake up even if I don’t chicken out at the last second...but anyway. My friend Vanessa came by my door and helped me down out of the home-made belt noose in my closet, and the cops were called. Cue being taken away in a cop car in handcuffs and 96 hours in a mental hospital without ANYONE believing any of my attempts to defend myself or even being put before a judge how’s that for due process ladies and gentlemen?

I won’t say what hospital I was in due to all the horrible shit I’m about to say about its character, but I WILL say when i first got there, many a joke was made about a then very topical certain someone who was known as a whistleblower and/or traitor depending on where you fall on the political spectrum who leaked a bunch of CIA and NSA shit. Oh, yeah, completely unrelated, did I mention I went to the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg, VA? Just a fun tidbit.

Anyway, I know this is slow in getting to the point, so let’s cut to the meat of the thing. From Outlast (the good one), to Arkham Asylum, to Silence of the Lambs, Session 9, Halloween, to House on Haunted Hill (the bad but enjoyable one), to that story some kid in grade school and/or your older sister wouldn’t shut the fuck up about that had an escaped mental patient who apparently the staff had deemed wise to give a pirate hook for a hand, the common consensus is: mental hospitals are fucking scary. More specifically, crazy people are fucking scary.

In recent years, as we’ve all grown a little more compassionate and people give the mentally ill at least a few months or years before they decide your shit is too much for them to deal with and throw you out like a leper, there’s been very strong pushback against this. Particularly on places like tumblr and other random blogs and op eds around the internet. It’s easy to see why. Dehumanizing the mentally ill is not only offensive to people who CAN actually generally understand and remember what you say about us, thank you very much, it’s just lazy. People like Michael Myers (no not that one the scary one) and Joker, who would NEVER see the inside of a hospital due to their clear intelligence and control over their actions, are thrown in an asylum as a cheap plot device, and classifying a character as crazy lets you ignore pesky little things like “character motivation” and “consistent characterization in general, fuckwit”. People may even praise your character for lacking those things if they’re cuh-RAZY enough. Again, Michael Myers (still not that one) and Joker.

I’m a huge fan of the pushback against the escaped mental patient with a hook trope. Having been a mental patient myself, I can assure you that almost all ANYONE wants to break out of that shit hole to do is get some good fucking food, sleep in a real bed, and pork their significant other. Mr. Pirate Hook, in a realistic version of that story, may have jumped the teen lovers for their car just to drive it to the liquor store and then his girlfriend’s house.

The problem is, and this is the main point of this giant fucking essay, that there is now also considerable related pushback against asylums being scary places. Ironically enough, this is coming not mainly from certifiable and dangerous-to-themselves-or-others type people. This pushback is coming from very well-meaning young adults with anxiety disorders and/or depressive episodes who are very sweet and god bless them I just know for a fact have never EVER seen the inside of one of these fucking places. It is coming from people who don’t want asylums to be seen as scary places because they want the mentally ill to want to go to them. To help them, ostensibly, but a tiny little cynical “fuck everyone” part of me thinks it’s more like to sweep their mess into someone else’s room so they don’t have to fucking handle it.

Now, before I continue, let me stress that the place I was in was a bit renowned for being a terrible shit hole. I’m sure my experience would have been a lot nicer at a suburban 50k a day mansion rehab for celebrities in the hills of Los Angeles. You don’t condemn all hotels in the world because of one particularly traumatic stay at the bumblefuck nowhere clown motel next to the old graveyard (yes that is a real thing), right? And unlike hotels, there’s no such thing as an asylum critic. A lot of people do NEED to be hospitalized for safety, and a lot of people DO, through one method or another, find themselves better off by the end of their stay. And I’m sure the go-to solution for any and all of life’s problems isn’t “tranq them in the ass and throw them in an isolation room” in EVERY hospital. But I get a sneaking suspicion it’s most of them. With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s continue.

Mental hospitals are the most terrifying fucking places in the world. Every time one of my well-meaning friends who’s never been committed says they think a brief hospital stint would do me good, I want to throw a blender at their fucking head. Every one of your relatively well-adjusted but probably on an anti-depressant or anxiety meds guidance counselor and social workers friends will list their good qualities until they’re blue in the face and tell you it’s not at all like the movies and there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s not like the movies, most of the time. Not exactly. But that resort and bond with people who have been through the same thing as you and time to work on yourself and group therapy and art class pitch they sell you on? Yeah, it’s bullshit.

Let’s continue with my story. When I was brought in from the main hospital, they first sent me to acute. I’ve been to county jail, and I’ve been to the acute treatment (read: high risk/high security) wing in an asylum, and I would pick county. Every fucking time. Bless her heart, my patient and long-suffering girlfriend at the time, who had been by my side for the whole process, was sitting next to me and holding my hand as they did the intake survey. They were at least compassionate enough or smart enough to know I would be a lot more placid and manageable with her around to let her stay for the intake process. Outside, the hallway was dark, one guy was on a prison-style wall-mounted phone, some dudes were playing cards, a woman was wandering up and down the hallway....and up and down and up and down and up and down the hallway. And from somewhere, someone was screaming. Not words. Just...screaming. Nobody seemed to do anything about it, see what she was screaming about. I don’t know if it was agony, misery, or fury. Maybe some combination of the three. On and on and on, with breaks seemingly only to get her breath back. I was in the acceptance stage at this point, and was busy shutting down emotional channels one by one and going into survival mode, steeling myself for my stay, but my girlfriend at the time...she looked terrified and broken-hearted. The thought of her leaving a loved one in this windowless pit (this wing, you see, was underground) destroyed her. I could tell. It would me, if I were in her situation. It is a traumatizing situation to be in. There’s no way out, nobody believes anything you say unless you tell them the worst, you can see that woman out in the hall passing back and forth and back in forth in the door window, and someone is screaming like she’s in Hell. Maybe she was.

The screaming was when I first realized an ugly truth and my morals were shaken into a grey zone: people who are mentally ill can be pretty fucking scary. Even if they’re harmless. I never saw that woman or found out why she was screaming. But in that moment, I desperately feared her and hoped I would never find out. It’s easy now for me to look back on her with compassion and pity and feel ashamed for my reaction, wish I could have helped her, but then...I was already in a fragile place. She scared me. And this leads to the next conclusion, even worse. You scare other people, and maybe it’s understandable that they’re scared.

I deeply repress my anger. I have never in my life been violent or had the urge to be, and I don’t plan on changing that. But my anger is repressed. It can take a lot of battering before it shows itself...but when it comes out, it’s in a sudden, explosive, deep-throat scream worthy of a jump scare in a horror movie showing a protagonist is losing his mind and can’t be trusted any more. I usually only get about half a sentence out in this way before I scare myself, my eyes go wide with horror, I clap my hands over my mouth and run out of the room crying. But by then it’s too late. I got so drunk so often I forgot huge chunks of my past and have no idea what I said or did. I emotionally wounded people. I acted unpredictably. I asked to borrow a friend’s cigarette while she was DRIVING, and casually, with no warning, ground it out on my arm. My girlfriend often found me passed out through booze or asphyxiation or covered in blood. Crazy is undeniably scarier to live with than it is to witness, and I often get frustrated when it feels like people don’t remember or fully understand that. But...that doesn’t mean witnessing it isn’t fucking horrible. People were being perfectly rational to be afraid around me. Never afraid OF me, everyone who knows me knows of my physically gentle nature (with others) and desperate desire to be a good person. But they were afraid: afraid of my behavior when I wasn’t in control, of what reckless and insane shit I might do to self-destruct and/or inadvertently hurt people around me.

Thankfully, my intake survey and a nurse who noticed my relatively normal behavior both indicated I should be in the (above-ground!) high-functioning wing, so I was quickly moved there. I never figured out who that scream belonged to. But even in high-functioning...it wasn’t much reprieve. A woman shit the bed, a man fresh out of acute regaled us with stories of getting tranqed and thrown in isolation because he had barricaded himself in his room with all his furniture and berated the orderlies as they tried to force their way in about “you should really bolt the furniture down it’s a safety risk I could be killing myself in here” because he was bored. My only friend in the wing, who I really did like quite a lot and still do even though we fell out of touch, had a roommate who was always acting like she was just on the edge of doing something fucking stupid. Once, her husband smuggled her a shaving razor, which she whipped out in front of my friend, waving it around and threatening to kill herself. When my friend alerted the orderlies, this woman put it (IN ITS CASE I always feel I should clarify) up her pussy to hide it and feigned ignorance, resulting in my friend going to isolation. No tranq though. This was the high-functioning unit, after all.

Your one-on-ones with the psychiatrist were roughly 3-5 minutes in length and consisted of medication questions and asking if you were literally going to beat your head against a wall until you died in the next 15 minutes, otherwise talk about it in group. The more you insisted to this man that you were fine and shouldn’t be here and inquired about the legal status of your incarceration and when you could be released, the worse he thought you were.

There were times to gather and talk about feelings. There was art. Some people were very good at it. Visiting hours. But most of the time was just...sitting. Sitting, bored out of your god damned skull, so bored you might just barricade your room with all of its furniture and laugh and laugh and laugh as the orderlies try to force their way in. The patient man doesn’t need to inflict physical torture to break someone. Isolation and boredom do things to the human mind, maybe sooner, maybe later, but...up there, I said hospitals make a lot of people better. They also make a lot of people worse. Then they have to stay for longer. When they’re finally released, they don’t remember how to live in the normal world and soon end up back inside.

Just like prison. Make no mistake, the asylum is a prison. A prison where nobody believes a god damned word that comes out of your mouth. A prison for people nobody wants to deal with. A prison where they stick you with people whose crazy does NOT fuck with your crazy and you start to think maybe people are right for not wanting to deal with you after all. That’s the worst part of negative emotional reactions to symptoms of mental illness. How god damned much they remind you of yourself. The trauma I mentioned off-hand up there was that my ex from High School may or may not have abused me it’s complicated and fuzzy i don’t remember it’s not important. What is important is a new girl came in once who casually admitted to abusing her boyfriend. I backed away slowly and retreated into a private room, where my one friend had to comfort me. Later, the class clown, Mr. Barricade Tranq-in-the-Ass, made a rape joke in front of her. A rape survivor.

Everyone’s mind breaks in very similar ways, but for very different reasons and with just different enough symptoms and fears and psychotic hatreds that there WILL be people in your unit you fucking hate, whose crazy and yours grind on each other’s gears. There will be people you are afraid of, people you’re stupidly attached to for no reason other than they’re there and nice to you.

Throwing all these people in a hole and throwing away the key does not create an environment conducive to anyone’s mental health. Then, of course, there’s the treatment. Yes, like I said, if you’re willing to petition like 5 people about it and constantly remind them, you may get some good one-on-one time. You may get some good nuggets out of group therapy. You might make nice art. Mostly, though, they cut you off from the outside world and take you away from everything you love and put you with a bunch of potentially terrifying strangers and just fucking leave ya there. To rot.

The problem with mental hospitals is the problem they’ve always had. No, obviously nobody’s head is in a cage and they don’t electrocute and lobotomize you, but the theory is the same. They want you to stop being crazy. But first, and foremost, they want to keep you there and keep you under control. That is the primary goal. Not treatment. Keeping you there and controlled. I suppose if you consider the history of asylums it’s quite humane, but I wasn’t joking up there about the tranqs in the ass.Everything from death threats to trying to pork another patient to getting too lippy with a nurse is treated with the tried and true ass-tranq isolation room. How long will you be in there? Who knows!! Until they remember they put you in there and/or the shit that you’ve smeared on the walls starts to smell.

And all of this leads to the most horrible conclusion of all, the kind that makes people truly lose their minds if they think about it too long in that Lovecraftian/Poe kind of way where your hair turns white: maybe there is no right way to handle mentally ill people, and if there is, we sure as fuck haven’t found it yet.

The mentally ill are oppressed and deserve compassion. Love. Support. But we can also be terrifying to the mentally well, to each other, to ourselves...and forcing all of these people into a cage they don’t want to be in with strangers who they’re irritated with and scared of who are irritated and scared right back at them and leaving them in this weird, artificially constructed, regimented society until you deem them fit to leave is....ha. Well, it’s crazy!. And it is scary. And it can and often does make people worse.

So please, don’t...don’t say mental hospitals shouldn’t be seen as scary or shouldn’t be used in horror. By all means, do it. But do it well. Look to Outlast. See, in Outlast, the set-up is very trite. Big asylum, patients escaped and massacred the staff. But you’re there on a tip that human rights abuses and clandestine experiments were being performed. Most of the inmates are doing vaguely unnerving shit but are harmless, just like a real hospital. Some are just fucking watching TV. And the game is never satisfied with “this guy’s crazy.” Walker, the ‘UGE FUCKIN GOI who everyone’s terrified of has awful PTSD and if you listen to his idle dialogue, is always muttering about containment protocol and stopping the spread of something. And by the end of the game, you realize he might not be as crazy as he seemed, and that the patients massacring the hospital staff was completely understandable and maaaybe even a little bit their own fucking fault. One guy, in an absolutely heart-wrenching and my absolute favorite part of the game, is just sitting broken in a burning kitchen talking about how this place took everything from them because nobody cares about a few abused or dead lunatics, so he’s gonna burn the whole fucking thing down.

You know what it basically comes down to? Most of the crazy people aren’t dangerous. Some are, but the ones that are have clear motivations. Crazy ones, but motivations. Almost like........ooohhh the point emerges REAL FUCKING PEOPLE! Make villains crazy. Well, all right to be honest, it wouldn’t hurt to slow down a bit on that, but I don’t want it to stop entirely. Depict asylums as the Hellish shit holes they are. But for God’s sake, just write mentally ill people like human beings. A human being you can’t understand isn’t the same thing as a non-human. Nobody does things for NO reason at all. If you’re writing a crazy villain, don’t make him evil because he’s crazy and the symptoms of his crazy are being evil; if you’re setting something in an asylum, make sure the horror doesn’t start and end with guys in straightjackets frothing at the mouth and screaming about how they want to fuck whoever’s walking past them in the aorta.

I don’t want the truth about us, our condition, our capacity for harming those around us, or how fucked up it is how society treats us because it has no idea what the fuck it’s doing sanitized because it’s difficult to deal with and there are no clear good guys.

#mental illness #ableism

8 notes · View notes

silver-strings-of-fate · 1 year

Text

Updated my verse page here! Still working on info for the two newbies but everything else is all collected. Mobile-friendly version under the cut!

Amamiya Ren Verses

~Main Timeline Verses~

Getting Out There: The main verse. Encapsulates the period from the beginning of the main game to the end of Strikers. This is also the default tag for anything without a definite verse or for minor AUs without their own dedicated verses.

Life Keeps Changing (Post-Strikers Ren): What could be more stressful than saving the world from false gods? College. Having returned to Tokyo for university, Ren now has to deal with establishing himself as a functioning adult. Frankly, there are times when he’d rather be getting beaten up by shadows again.

Inaba Blues (Kid Ren): Growing up in a rural town sucks. You have to deal with puberty, school, bullies, a series of strange murders and kidnappings, and your favorite department store getting a new mascot that creeps you the fuck out.

~Alternate Uni-Verses~

The Devil with 22 Faces (Palace Ruler Ren): An alternative course of events for Royal’s third seminar. After defeating Yaldabaoth, Ren inadvertently absorbs the god’s power into himself. Overwhelmed, Ren suffers a mental breakdown and manifests his own palace over Tokyo. In his corrupted mental state, Ren believes that control and order are the source of all suffering, and that true happiness can only be achieved through absolute chaos. He seeks to create a reality with no rules; where anyone can do or be anything and no one needs to hide their true self.

His palace manifests as a brightly colored, cell-shaded, comic book-esque Tokyo that twists and warps at random. Areas he frequents, like Yongen-Jaya or Shibuya Square, are more stable than places he doesn’t, since he has a clearer image of them in their mind. Also present in these places are fragments of Ren’s shadow. These shadows all wear full-face masks that each show an expression relevant to their location (ie a customer service smile at places where he works)

More info here (shadow design) and here (final boss form)

A Not-So-Gentle Gentleman Detective (Justice Ren): An arcana-swapped version of Ren, taking Akechi’s role in the story. After a series of unfortunate events earlier in his life, Ren ends up under the thumb of Shido. He plays the role of the friendly Gentleman Detective on the surface, but acts as the Black-Hooded Assassin behind the scenes, all while secretly plotting his revenge.

More info here (background), here (third semester info), here (casual design), and here (metaverse designs)

What's a King to a God (Pride Ren): A part of the larger Another Story swap au, Ren takes the role of Shido. He's the head of a large business empire, and now he's turned his sights on becoming prime minister. He has the whole country under his thumb, but he wants more.

More info here

Two Pair (Twin Ren): Twin au with @learcarum's Akira. Between the two of them, Ren always found himself being second best. While he loves his twin dearly, he can't help but resent and envy him.

Reflection of the True Self (Demon Ren): Due to the strange inner-workings of the Metaverse, Ren finds himself physically fused with Arsene. While to the average person, he looks no different than before, to those aware of the Metaverse, the giant pair of wings and demonic horns are unmistakable.

Welcome to the Velvet Room (Attendant Ren): It’s stated that anyone who enters the Velvet Room must first form a contract. Doing so grants one the power of the Wild Card, but what do you have to give up in exchange? After the Phantom Thieves plan to prevent Ren’s assassination fails; a new attendant appears in the Velvet Room. This attendant, Adrien, looks suspiciously like Ren, but has no memories prior to awakening in the space between dreams and reality.

Just Call Me Lupin the Fourth (Real Thief Ren): Palaces? Metaverse? Never heard of her! The Infamous ‘Kaitou Joker’ is too busy stealing stuff in the real world (with the help of his talking cat) to worry about changing anyone’s heart. After all, there’s no need to make someone confess their crimes if you just steal the evidence. Plus he might get a chance to swipe their rare jewel collection while he’s at it.

A Prince’s Loyal Knight (Traitor Ren): Instead of going through with the Phantom Thieves’ plan to outwit Akechi’s November assassination, Ren makes the choice to betray his friends and team up with his would-be killer. Under Development

3 notes · View notes

olboypacman · 5 years

Text

2. What is Justice? (Finale, A Cry For Justice)

A Few Months Later, The Day of The People of New Jersey v. Frank Castle

****

“Funny seeing you and the rest of the gang here, Chuckles.”

“Jason. You’re looking well.”

A tense silence manifests itself between the factions of the leather clad couple of Jason Todd and Komand’r and the Titans dressed in their civilian attire.

“Sister.”

“Kori. I see Victor’s holorings still have their uses. But, tan’s a bad tone on you, sister dear.”

“Why you-“ Kori lunges at her sister but is held back by Victor.

“OK,” Said Cyborg, “this is more awkward than I thought it would be. I’m taking Kori into the court room, gonna find us some seats. Who’d a thought this trial would’ve attracted so much attention?”

He heaves the Tamaranean over his shoulder as he walks through the door. She’s spouting off her objections to her treatment in Tamaranean, as she pounds her fists Victor’s back.

“I’m gonna join Cy- I mean Vic. You guys look like you got some stuff to catch up on.” Said a fair skinned, blonde-haired, green-eyed Changeling. “See you guy in court!” He said as waived off the others, following Cyborg.

Raven shrugs her shoulders at the people remaining. “Wait for me Gar.” She intones, coming up the rear.

“Komi,” says Nightwing, “was that really necessary?”

Blackfire gives him a look of mock innocence, “What? I’m telling the truth.”

“Blackfire,” said Jason, “let me talk with Dick alone. Find us a spot will you, cutie?”

“Fine, Jay. I’ve got you.” She pecks him on the cheek, as she makes her way into the court room to find her and Jason some seats.

“You and Blackfire. A part of me may have saw that coming-“

“Grayson,” interrupts Jason. “Is Bruce here?”

“Yeah. Alfred’s here. Babs is here. Tim’s here. Even poor Harley is here. Everyone is here. Are you planning on saying hi to anyone?”

“I’ve said all needed to him or anyone a long time ago.”

At the implication of Jason’s words, Dick sighs and says, “He never would’ve done it. None of us would’ve. For what it’s worth, he’s sorry and he misses you. And despite our recent history, I miss you too. Your family-“

“Stow it, Dick. The fact that it took some cop to do what needs to be done tells me what kind of family I’ve got. Give my love to Babs. Enjoy the trial.” Said Jason, as started to make his way into the court room.

“Wait. Why did you bail out Frank Castle?” Asked Dick.

“Honestly? I wanted to meet the man ballsy enough to properly avenge his family.”

****

“All rise!” Commanded the bailiff as the judge made his way to the bench.

The older, bald, caucasian judge, clad in the dark robes sits and bangs his gavel getting the attention of the full court as everyone present takes their seat.

He creases his brow, as if he’s making eye contact with everyone in the court.

“I know we have a lot of people here today, but I’d like to remind everyone here today we are in a court of law this day. A man is being tried for his alleged crimes and recommend all out bursts be keep to a minimum. With that being said, let’s get started with our opening statements.” The judge motions to his left, “Prosecutor.”

The prosecutor stands upon being beckoned by the judge. He’s small slip of man dressed in a cheap beige suit with an even cheaper haircut. He smiles condescendingly at Frank, practically assured of a conviction as he begins his opening statement.

“What is justice? We in the DA’s office like to define it as set system of right and wrong. Of showing those who break laws there are set consequences for what you do. Today we are here to prosecute Frank Castle for the crime of murder of the Joker in the first degree. We will prove that he did so maliciously and with no regard for our system of justice. And I would like to remind the court that the people of New Jersey are seeking the maximum conviction of life without the possibility of parole.”

A hush goes over the court as the mousy prosecutor finished his opening statement.

The hush turns into murmur as they seemingly wait for something to happen.

The judge bangs his gavel once more to bring the hush back to the court room.

“Mr. Castle, I understand you’ve waived your right to attorney. As a result of that it’s up to you to state the basis of your defense or to counter point anything said by the prosecution in your opening statement.”

Being addressed, Castle rises from his seat and says gruffly, “I decline to make an opening statement, your honor.”

A murmur goes over those present in the court and the judge bangs his gavel again to gain control of the court.

The prosecutor’s sneer returns to his face.

The judge takes a moment to take in his appearance.

Castle’s dressed in a black suit coat with matching pants and tie, with a white shirt underneath the coat. The whole ensemble looks like it’s seen better days, as littered with wrinkles and is poorly creased. There’s a look in defeat his eyes and looks like her hasn’t shaved in a while.

He’s a man whose already been beaten, dressed for a funeral for the fight of his life, thinks the judge.

“Both of you, please approach.” Commands the judge, addressing Castle and the prosecutor.

“Mr. Castle,” said the judge in a low voice, “how prepared are you for your defense?”

“I just thought to show up, your honor. Everything else is formality at this point.” Responded Frank.

“Mr. Castle, I’m telling you this for your own good, but do you recognize without a proper defense you maybe damning yourself to a guilty verdict and consequently to whatever fresh hell I’d imagine a waits a police officer in Blackgate. Yes, Mr. Castle, recognize that my power as a judge won’t save a violent offender from a super max prison, first offense or not.”

“Whatever happens, I’m consigned to the worst of what may come to be.” Said Frank.

“Then why show up at all? Your absence today would’ve defaulted a guilty verdict.”

Frank shrugs his shoulders, “Then that would’ve cost the guy that bailed me out a half a million dollars. I couldn’t in good conscience let him lose that kind of money on my say so.”

The prosecutor attempts to contain his laughs, as the judge shoots him a look of annoyance at his outburst. “You will respect this courtroom, prosecutor.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” he said as he tried to stow his laughs. “This going to be my easiest conviction yet.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, counselor.” Said Castle.

The prosecutor sneers and says, “Unless you know something I don’t, I expect a guilty verdict in less than a few hours, Castle.”

“Enough,” interjects the judge, “let’s get this case underway.” He said, dismissing them.

The judge bangs the gavel again to bring the noise of court down that came up as he was addressing the prosecution and the defense.

“Prosecution, your first witness.”

****

The prosecution had gone through about half a dozen or so witnesses of the police and EMTs that were on the scene of murder. Most testimonies were very brief and consistent outlining what happened that night a few months ago.

To no surprise to the judge and the prosecutor, Castle, acting as his own defense, had opted not to question one witness.

The prosecution had just dismissed the most recent witness, the officer who had been headbutted by The Joker.

No one even bothered to check if Castle had any questions for him, taking ques from earlier.

“The State of New Jersey would like to call Commissioner Gordon to the stand.” Said the prosecutor.

Gordon stands from his seat among the spectators. He makes his way to the stand, dressed in his signature tan overcoat, off white dress shirt with a black tie, light brown pants and black shoes.

He takes a seat on the stand and is sworn in as the prosecutor waits, sneer still on his face.

“May the witness state his name for the record,” said the prosecutor.

“James Gordon,” was the response.

“And what is your profession, Mr. Gordon?”

“I’m the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department.”

“Do you recognize that man over there?” Said the prosecutor, pointing at Frank Castle.

“Yes, that’s officer-“ Gordon stops himself, running his hand through his white hair in frustration. “Frank Castle.”

“Do you know what Mr. Castle’s vocation was until recently?”

Gordon hesitates for a moment, glaring at the prosecutor, his mouth forming a grim line. “He was an officer under my command in the city’s police department.”

“Do you know what Mr. Castle is accused of?”

“Yes.”

“And can you state what Mr. Castle is he accused of, Commissioner?”

“Murder in the first degree. He’s accused of killing The Joker.”

“And you were there on the night in question, correct?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Well, from what you saw can you tell me what happened?”

“It happened pretty fast. I was speaking with Batman, then I heard one shot and a few officers fingered Castle as the shooter pretty quickly. Joker was already down with one in his chest before I could get eyes on the situation. Castle then fired 3 more shots into The Joker, another to his chest, one to his throat, and the last one to the head, before any officers could get to him. About 4 or 5 officers’ dog-piled him before he can shoot another round off, and that scuffle didn’t last long. He gave as soon as he was tackled.”

“So, you saw him kill the victim?” Asked the prosecutor.

“Yes.”

“Was Frank Castle within his right to execute the victim the way he did? Within his duty as sworn officer of the law?”

"I speak from someone whose family was a victim of the Joker, hell I was a victim of him my damn self. What Officer Castle did, who’s to say it was wrong? Really? I mean after what he did to my girl Barbara, I can't say I didn't think about pulling the trigger myself."

“That’s interesting Commissioner, I had no idea that the police department condones the cold-blooded execution of detained criminals.“

“I didn’t say that!” Interrupts Gordon.

“Well it’s no surprise. You condoned the actions of the Bat-family in our city for years, and they done nothing to stave off the rising crime and supervillains that plague our fair city.” Said the prosecutor, as he raised his voice. “Why not execute them all? It’s only the natural progression of things under your command, right commissioner?”

“No that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then answer my question Commissioner Gordon; was Frank Castle within his right or his civic duty as an officer of the law to execute the victim?”

“No.” Said Gordon, defeatedly.

“Nothing further.” Said the prosecutor, as he makes his way back to his seat.

“Does Mr. Castle have anything for the commissioner?” Asked the judge.

Frank stood from his seat, scratching his unshaven scruff. “How’s Babs?” Asked the former police officer.

The court erupted into a roar at the question.

“ORDER! ORDER!” Yelled the judge as he banged his gavel. “Mr. Castle, the court room isn’t the social hour. Do you have questions to defend yourself, to rebuttal anything the prosecution established to the court?”

“No, your honor.” Said Castle simply.

“Thank you for your testimony here today, commissioner,” Said the judge.

“The prosecution would like to call one last witness to the stand, Frank Castle.” Said the prosecution.

The court erupted once more.

The judge banged his gavel again to quiet down the court.

Castle makes his way to the stand.

He’s then sworn in.

“Can you state your name for the record.” Said the prosecutor, as he approached the stand.

“Frank Castle.”

“What is your vocation?”

“Former officer of Gotham’s police force.”

“Former,” repeats the prosecutor. “And can you tell the court today what caused you to lose that position, which coincides with what your accused of today.” Said the prosecutor, emphasizing the word, ‘accused.’

“You read the reports and statements, councilor. You tell me.”

“Answer the question, Mr. Castle,” commands the judge.

“Shooting and killing the Joker.”

The prosecutor clicks his teeth, as if processing what was just stated.

He walks back to his table, producing a picture.

The councilor walks back to stand showing a picture to Castle.

“Do you recognize this man, Mr. Castle?”

“I do.” Said Castle simply, as the prosecutor showed the picture to the court.

“That is James Irons, an alleged associate of the Falcone crime family.”

“And what is your history with, Mr. Irons?” Asked the lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh?” Said the prosecutor, facetiously. He goes back to the table grabbing several pieces of paper stapled together. “In my hand I have a formal complaint filed with the Gotham City police department against Mr. Castle on behalf of Mr. Irons. The complaint being brutality.” He hands it off to the jury, for them to verify it for themselves.

“And what is the point of this?” Asks Castle.

“I believe the phrase your looking for is, ‘objection, on the grounds of relevance.’” Said the prosecutor, arrogantly.

“Watch your tone counselor, but Mr. Castle does have a point. To what relevance is this to the court?” Said the judge.

“I’m only trying to establish to the court a history of Mr. Castle being less than kind to detained suspects. A history that started only after his family was allegedly killed by The Joker.” Said the prosecutor.

“You son of bitch-“ Frank growls as he lunges at the prosecutor and another ruckus stir occurs as he does.

The judge bangs his gavel, to regain control of the court. And the bailiffs are able to restrain Frank before he can get to the prosecution.

“Order! Mr. Castle, you are to control yourself, councilor, please do your best not to badger the witness, or I will hold you both in contempt.”

The prosecutor obviously frazzled by having Castle jump at him, straightens himself out. “As I was saying I’m simply trying to establish to the court a history of misconduct towards already arrested suspects, a history that started,” the prosecutor hesitates as Castle scowls at him, “after the untimely death of his family. As a matter of fact, I have 5 or 6 similar complaints against Mr. Castle over the last few years. So, what were those brutality cases, Mr. Castle? Working up your nerve to kill? Some measure of revenge until you found your desired prey?”

Frank sighs, then goes to answer. “If you saw what Irons did to his wife, you would’ve done the same thing. As far as the others,” Frank paused, a far away look in his eyes, “I don’t know. Things have been difficult since my family was killed.”

“That does not excuse an officer assaulting a person that’s already been arrested. It certainly doesn’t excuse you killing a detained suspect in cold blood.” Responded the prosecutor, he starts to walk back to his table, apparently finished questioning.

“Cold blood,” laughs Frank. “That was the hardest decision I’ve made since they died.”

“What?” Said the prosecutor.

“You’ve been needling witnesses all day to paint as some kind of monster. And all day I’ve listened to you corner my former colleagues and commanding officers to confirm it so. Who am I to deny what you want?” Said Frank sarcastically. “Killing the Joker wasn’t something that came to me easy. I thought about it for a long while. When I finally decided to go through with it, I waited years for my opportunity. Waited for something, anything where I can come across that piece of shit. A transport detail, a detail guarding a door as he’s being interrogated. Literally anything. My opportunity came that night a few months ago. The city’s resident so-called hero had just subdued The Joker and all nearby cars were ordered to report to scene. I happened to be assigned to guard him with another officer while we waited for a high-security bus to come cart him off. I lucked that officer I was pared with was very antagonistic and he managed to get himself hurt leaving me all alone with the Joker. I was unsure now that the time had come to actually go through with it. When I questioned him why he attacked the civic center, his answer steeled my resolve. My only regret is that I didn’t get to empty my entire clip into the son of a bitch. Is that what you wanted counselor?”

“That’s it,” replied the prosecutor simply. “Nothing further.”

“I, um,” said the judge. “The jury maybe excused so they may deliberate.”

****

The court reconvened after only 30 minutes of deliberation.

The judge once again bangs his gavel to quiet the court once more.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” The judge addressed the foreman.

“We have reached a unanimous verdict, your honor.” Said the foreman.

He unfolds the piece of, containing said decision.

“We, the jury, find Frank Castle on the charge of first-degree murder, not guilty.”

At the rendered verdict, the court erupts more riotous than before.

The prosecutor is beside himself at the decision.

He’s yelling and ranted animated in his position at the court, mutterings of ‘mistrial’ and damnings of fifth amendment rights.

The judge is just as animated, banging his gavel attempting to regain control of the court room once more.

“Order! Goddamnit! I will clear this courtroom! Order! Order!” Yells the judge.

The court begins to simmer down at his threat. He chuckles and goes on to say, “Not guilty. Huh. Oh, well. The State of New Jersey would like to thank the jury for their service today.” He then turns his attention to Castle. “So much could be said to you, Mr. Castle. You avoided the obvious despite the overwhelming evidence against the contrary.”

“I’m just as surprised as you, your honor.” Replied Frank.

“Indeed. Mr. Castle, I wish I can say justice, as I understand it as an officer of court, was dispensed. Had it been so, you probably never would’ve been in front of me in this capacity. Commissioner Gordon’s baby girl wouldn’t be in a wheelchair. You would still come home to your family every night. Hell, that can be said of countless families across this city of ours, cause The Joker would’ve been locked away for a long, long time. But it hasn’t. Furthermore, I wish I could pat you on the back for a job well done. I wish I can tell you that-a-boy. I wish I could tell you your wife and children could rest easy now that that piece of shit is off the streets. But again, because of my station I can’t officially. Mr. Castle, the jury has given you your life back. Congratulations. Case dismissed,” he said, banging his gavel.

****

It had been a fight out the court room, as more than a few reporters had managed to find a seat during his case. He had to fight even harder on the courtroom steps, as there were reporters from every newspaper and news station trying to get a quote for this story.

Showing he still had allies in the police station, Commissioner Gordon and few other officers had formed a makeshift human barrier around Castle as they pushed their way though the throngs of journalists.

As they make their way to the parking deck, a well-built clean-shaven, red-haired man in a navy-blue suit is waiting for them. He’s standing by the rear door of limousine. Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that the gentleman actually is dressed in a military officer’s uniform.

The man then makes his own way toward Frank Castle and his escorts.

“I can take him from here, boys.” Said the man.

“Mind telling us who you are.” Said Gordon.

“Captain Rick Flag, United States military. No need to be so defensive,” said Frank, defusing the tension between the police officer’s and the man. “I served with him in the marines. He stayed with military, I decided to go into law enforcement.”

“If you say so Frank. Listen, if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.” Said Gordon, extending his hand to Frank.

“Thanks, Commissioner,” replied Castle shaking hands with Gordon.

The officers and Gordon leave Flag and Castle alone to catch up. “By the way, its Colonel these days, Frank,” said Colonel Rick Flag, extending a hand to greet his old comrade.

Castle scoffs at the Colonel, “Look at you. So, what do want, Rick?”

“I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you. I know with, recent developments you’ve found yourself with a lot of time on your hands, old friend. She’s in the limo, follow me.”

Flag leads Frank to the limo. Upon reaching it, he opens the door, beckoning him to enter.

Frank passes the threshold, fixing himself into a plush leather seat as Flag closes the door.

Sitting across from him is a heavy seat African American woman.

She’s sloshing ice around in quarter filled glass, with an amber liquid inside, alcohol presumably. She’s dressed in a blue suit jacket and pencil skirt. Her hair is incredibly short, styled in a mini afro. Her dark-brown eyes bare a seriousness mirrored in the expression on her face.

“Mr. Castle,” she said, “what do you know about Task Force X?”

6 notes · View notes

katiewattsart · 4 years

Text

29/10/19 : TEDDY BOYS. HAUL GIRLS. #1

What are they?

Teddy Boy: (in the 1950s) a young man of a subculture characterised by a style of dress based on Edwardian fashion (typically with drainpipe trousers, bootlace tie, and hair slicked up in a quiff) and a liking for rock-and-roll music.

Haul Girl: A girl or women who makes a haul video.

The revolution will not be televised.

youtube

The tv shows you what it wants to show you.

Television tells us what the people who run the TV stations want us to know. But social media today sometimes provides an alternative.

Subculture - Under/Beneath

We are looking today at youth and subcultures… their historicity and their contexts, and where we are with what might be called subcultures and youth cultures today.

GUIDE TO THE CULTS

A genuine piece from the mirror in the 1980s.

youtube

Sex Pistols : This is one of the most infamous moments on television. Today it seems tame, but in 1976 this was enough to get the presenter fired.

Like Duchamp's 'ready mades' - manufactured objects which qualified as art because he chose to call them such, the most unremarkable and inappropriate items - a pin, a plastic clothes peg, a television component, a razor blade, a tampon - could be brought within the province of punk (un)fashion...

Dick Hebdige - Subculture: The Meaning of Style

Hebdige’s book has long been consider the authorative text on subculture.

In the book he discusses the ready made aesthetics of punk. Punk was the first reaction to the developing politics of Thatcher and Reagan… here a refusal to take part in business as normal led to music that sounded amateur and fresh… the opposite of the progressive rock that had dominated the mid 1970s and early 80′s.

Vivienne Westwood

Objects borrowed from the most sordid of contexts found a place in punks' ensembles; lavatory chains were draped in graceful arcs across chests in plastic bin liners. Safety pins were taken out of their domestic 'utility' context and worn as gruesome ornaments through the cheek, ear or lip...fragments of school uniform (white bri-nylon shirts, school ties) were symbolically defiled (the shirts covered in graffiti, or fake blood; the ties left undone) and juxtaposed against leather drains or shocking pink mohair tops.

Jamie Red and others made zines that could be assembled in this same way, collaging and making work that felt it could have been made in the house, and often was.

Subcultures

Subcultures are tribal, bringing people together to form loose relations outside of the mainstream.

Different subcultures:

Even subcultures have subcultures… specific types of goth (steampunk, lolita) rude boys, K Pop sub genres, grunge punk rock etc

Once about a specific youth culture movement based around the disco music of the 1970s, clubbing subculture developed into rave culture in the late 80s and 90s, and has become a mainstream movement in the last few years.

Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore, Mark Leckey, 1999

youtube

“Something as trite and throwaway and exploitative as a jeans manufacturer can be taken by a group of people and made into something totemic, and powerful, and life-affirming.”

Subcultures are about a sense of belonging, often to people who feel excluded or disenfranchised from the mainstream.

youtube

Cosplay - form of subculture

The Joker and Harlequin are both characters who live for misrule, and both of them come from characters in the commedia dell’arte.

Harlequin relates directly to Harley Quinn… the Lord of Misrule was the peasant who was given the task of making sure that Xmas revellers got very drunk and very naughty.

The World Turned Upside Down

These characters link back to the ideas of the carnival, a time when the world was turned upside down. Christmas was initialy this kind of festival. People didn’t know if they would make it through the winter, so they made merry whilst they could. In the carnival Kings become Jokers, Jokers became kings.

Carnival extracts all individuals from non-carnival life, non-carnival states and because there are no hierarchical positions during carnival, ideologies which manifest the mind of individuals cannot exist.

...And finally in a few relatively rare instances, we find an extreme form of revelry in which the participants play-act at being precisely the opposite of what they really are; men act as women, women as men, kings as beggars, servants as masters, acolytes as bishops. In such situations of true orgy, normal life is played in all manners of sins such as incest, adultery, transvestitism, sacri- lege, and lese-majeste treated as the order of the day...

Edmund R. Leach, Rethinking Anthropology

In Rabelais and His World (1965), Mikhail Bakhtin likens the carnivalesque to the type of activity that often takes place in the carnivals of popular culture. In the carnival, according to Bakhtin, social hierarchies of everyday life—their etiquettes, and normal structures—are turned on their head.

Court jesters become kings, kings become beggars; opposites are mingled (fact and fantasy, heaven and hell).

Drag Cultures

Much in the same way that Madonna, undeniable icon though she is, in no way invented voguing, neither did the queens on RuPaul’s Drag Race invent the concept of "shade", "realness" or any of the other essential sayings liberally adopted wholesale by the internet. But what the show has done is continually provide a potted queer history. Whether it’s through highlighting ball culture, trans activism, gender fluidity, or queens like the legendary Lady Bunny; or simply by allowing the contestants to talk about their lived experience, the show has put an all too rare slice of gay and trans history in American (and the world’s) living rooms and laptops.

Drag Race has brought a subculture into the mainstream. It has brought secret languages into modern parlay.

From RuPaul raising a pair of opera glasses to say archly, “I can’t wait to see how this pans out”, to season four queen Latrice Royale’s “the shaaaaade of it all”, social media’s gif game has been vastly bolstered by nine seasons of this show. A gif reaction needs to encapsulate maximum emotion, drama, and appearance – and the queens on Drag Race have all three in spades. Tumblr couldn’t create gifs fast enough in the early seasons, and the joy of so many strong characters, and sound-bites, means that there is a reaction for absolutely every occasion. Season 6 winner Bianca Del Rio named one of her world tours after her own much-gif’d catchphrase, “Not today Satan”.

Memes and online culture have helped the show become part of the everyday.

Historically, "sissy" has been used as an insult against feminine-seeming men. Ru-Paul’s Drag Race not only reclaims the word – “now sissy that walk” is the phrase said at the top of each catwalk, usually preceding a demonstration of almost gob-smacking creativity – but shows that adopting a truly feminine character requires massive amounts of charisma and self-confidence. The show is wildly popular with women, not simply because of the incredible looks and transformations served by each queen, but because it is a celebration of feminine mystique in all its forms.

It has helped reclaim a sense of agency in an era of toxic masculinity.

The little show that could has turned into a global behemoth, with tours around the world each year, and an annual convention in Los Angeles. Last year, a second US convention launched in New York, while London hosted the first European edition, DragWorld UK, which saw a number of the show’s queens and RuPaul’s right-hand judge, Michelle Visage, holding court. And as fabulous, glamorous and downright funny as the queens are, the real joy came from seeing the response of teenagers to meeting their idols. RuPaul and Visage are giving hope to lost kids around the world, whatever their gender, ethnic background or sexuality. By sharing their stories, the Drag Race contestants are giving comfort and inspiration to viewers, as well as swathes of entertainment.

The show has brought disenfranchised, often hidden cultures into the open. And given people something that not only entertains, but also empowers.

The difference between Drag Race US and Drag Race UK summed up in one perfect tweet…

With RuPaul’s Drag Race UK finally airing on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, it’s got fans realising just how different the two editions of the show are… International fans were subjected to the colourful world of British slang and swear words, leaving dozens bemused about what exactly the UK queens are actually saying…. But in a viral tweet shared by one of the British queens, it’s managed to capture the crucial difference between the US and UK versions of Drag Race.

Sum Ting Wong shared a screenshot of a Facebook post that so beautifully sums up the two shows:

Pink News JOSH MILTON OCTOBER 8, 2019

Drag is culturally derived, and finds its forms based on local customs. In the UK drag has a relationship to Vaudeville and play, which means it does something different to the american show. It is less about the act of putting on a show, and more about the comedic, slightly catty relations that we have come to associate with saturday evening tv here in the UK.

But that doesn’t mean it is mean in itself… it still brings a subculture to a mainstream audience. Remember, if I talked about this with you in the 1990s, I would face prosecution under Section 28

"shall not intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality" or "promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship".

New Subcultures

‘It's hard not to be struck by the sensation that, emos and metalheads aside, what you might call the 20th-century idea of a youth subculture is now just outmoded. The internet doesn't spawn mass movements, bonded together by a shared taste in music, fashion and ownership of subcultural capital: it spawns brief, microcosmic ones.

In fact, the closest thing to the old model of a subculture I've come across is Helena and the haul girls. Their videos are about conspicuous consumption: a public display of their good taste, carefully assembled with precise attention to detail. When you put it like that they sound remarkably like mods.’

Alexis Petridis

Marie Antoinette, 2006 (Sofia Copolla)

youtube

#gcop200

3 notes · View notes

theimpossiblescheme · 5 years

Text

“Where do you come from, where do you go? What is your scene, baby, we just gotta know!”

I said I was gonna make an appreciation post for Yvonne Craig’s ’66 Batgirl, so… here she is, Barbara Gordon, that Dominoed Dare-Doll out to strike at the heart of crime!

The network wanted to introduce Barbara Gordon to the show almost immediately after her “Million-Dollar Debut” in the comics, and being renewed for a third season gave them the perfect opportunity. After airing a short presentation to introduce the character, featuring Babs in a much pointier mask fighting off Killer Moth and his goons, they were given the green light to properly usher her into the show. The rest, of course, is network television history; and while a lot of people can agree that the third season of the show was largely a series of missteps, Batgirl was definitely not one of them.

What makes Babs so interesting in this show is that she’s the perfect demonstration of how femininity and badassery don’t have to be mutually exclusive. She’s naturally a very warm, charming, and eminently helpful person who goes out of her way to look after her family and her community. She’s a bookworm who works at the Gotham City library and studied almost every subject. She’s very much a daddy’s girl who almost never fights with her father and regularly invites him over to watch TV with her. She loves to cook and entertain guests. She loves classical music and museums of all kinds. She dresses like Jackie Kennedy at a thrift shop. She loves to surf and swim and has a thing for charming jocks. She keeps a gorgeous apartment full of trinkets and vintage furniture with a little parakeet named Charlie to keep her company. And she visibly wears striking eye makeup even under her Batgirl cowl.

For God’s sake, her Batgirl motorcycle has ruffles on it!

But absolutely none of that takes away from what a devastatingly competent crimefighter she is. In fact, she uses her reputation as an underestimated Girly-Girl ™ to her best advantage, similar to the way Babs does in Batgirl: Year One. People tend to not pay her any mind because she’s a girl who can’t possibly do anything interesting in her spare time? Gives her plenty of time to build her own Batgirl Cave in the back room of her apartment, complete with a revolving wall for ease of access to her costume station, an early computer and switchboard with a Lucite screen, a forensic chemistry set, and an elevator lift for her motorcycle!

People expect her to be soft and meek? Perfect opportunity to take people by surprise by scaring them out of her apartment, even out of costume, and fully turn the tables on them as Batgirl, the fierce bruiser who loves nothing more than a sharp verbal takedown followed by a good scrap! Punching isn’t a ladylike thing to do? No rule saying you can’t ballet-kick their noses up into their brains and grab the nearest blunt object to use as an improvised weapon!

Woman crimefighters aren’t expected to be as clever as the Dynamic Duo? Time to surprise everyone by using common sense and book smarts to solve cases instead of Bat-Deduction and breaking out of deathtraps by being genuinely resourceful rather than relying on deus ex machina (she does get the occasional assist, but this girl freed herself from self-tightening garotte wire. That counts for something.)!

Every time someone on the show tries to sell her short, she gets around to proving them wrong within seconds, and it’s the most satisfying thing to see. Her biggest flaws as Batgirl were that she could be a little too rough and sometimes unintentionally cruel (such as the time she sprayed Louie the Lilac with sentient rot because she thought he was just bluffing). But with time and experience she learned better and continued to improve as Gotham’s newest protector—a job she took very seriously, but still had a sense of humor about.

Interestingly, in her first couple of appearances, Babs seemed to be very aware of the fact that people were going to end up comparing her to Batman and Robin, and it manifested in a rather competitive spirit. She constantly kept secrets from them, even ones that pertained to the case they were working on, and she would even hide evidence from them so she could have the satisfaction of busting the bad guy first. They didn’t seem to trust her on principle at first, especially Batman, who believed that it was in women’s nature to try to outdo men in everything (holy sexism, ya douchecanoe); and she apparently decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to change their minds. When they asked her about where she got her information, she would be deliberately vague and mention things like tarot cards and tea leaves—“all part of a woman crimefighter’s arsenal”—as a sort of Take That against them. And at the end of almost every episode, she would disappear without a trace while their backs were turned, making them wonder where the hell she could have gone. Eventually the three came to trust each other much more and fall into an easier and more cheerful rapport, but she would still disappear on them when the job was done.

One of the biggest shakeups on the show was that the member of the original “Batfamily” she was closest to was none other than Alfred! He was the first to stumble upon her secret identity, and she made him swear to secrecy “as a gentleman’s gentleman.” And he kept his word and continued to serve as her confidante, meeting with her in secret when she didn’t know if she could trust Batman. Every opportunity there was to help Babs, Alfred took it, no matter what, whether it was freeing her from a particularly tricky trap or helping her track a criminal across Gotham. The two of them quickly developed a really adorable familial relationship based on mutual trust and affection, and you could tell how fond of each other Yvonne Craig and Alan Napier must have been.

The one vastly different addition you could possibly quibble with about this Babs is that there’s this rather aggressive effort to try to pair her up with Bruce. Her father is very in favor of the idea of the two settling down together (even though Babs is fresh out of college and Bruce is at least in his late thirties). And while Babs thinks Bruce is a nice enough guy, all of their “dates” end up being rather awkward since Bruce is a colossal dork out of costume, and she honestly just finds him a bit boring. Besides, “he’s no Batman.” She has a rather thinly disguised hero-crush on Batman and often wonders who he is under the mask—one can only imagine her reaction to finding out it’s the same guy who would rather watch the news in the back of his limo than talk to her. The attempt at shipping is there, but it never really goes anywhere, so… dodged a bullet there.

And in case anyone is wondering about her and Dick, while they aren’t romantically interested in each other at all, they do make a fantastic team and seem to view each other as brother and sister or at least good friends. There are entire subplots of episodes where the two team up to save Batman’s bacon, and it’s glorious.

All in all, Yvonne Craig—once a dancer for the Ballet Russe and then a character actress who’d performed opposite Perry Mason and Elvis Presley—gave the world one of the defining heroines of the 1960s. One who never stayed a damsel in distress for long and was spunky, witty, rebellious, kindhearted, determined, free-spirited, and more than capable of holding her own with the boys. If anyone remembers anything about the third season of Batman, it’s Batgirl in all her purple glory, and her legacy has endured for so long that even Gail Simone has gone on record saying that when she writes Barbara Gordon, it’s Craig’s voice she imagines.

Unfortunately, Batman’s third season would be its last; even with hopes for a fourth season on the horizon, the destruction of the sets meant that the Terrific Trio would never set forth again on the small screen. Fortunately, though, this wouldn’t be the end of this Batgirl—she was given another chance in cartoon and comic book form!

In The New Adventures of Batman, she takes on Catwoman to clear her own name from the taint of crime, singlehandedly rescues Robin from both the Joker’s and the Riddler’s henchmen with nothing but brute force, and adds a whole new passel of gadgets to her utility belt, including her own grappling hook gun and a makeup compact that conceals pocket sand she can use to blind her assailants.

In the recent Batman ’66 standalone comics, she gets to help Batman face off against Lord Death Man in Japan, takes on the Joker and Catwoman multiple times, helps free her father from Bane’s clutches, outwits all of the Big Four through simple office politics out of costume, and singlehandedly fends off the Bookworm and Queen Cleopatra with ingenuity and a good pimp slap respectively.

In Batman ’66 Meets the Man From U.N.C.L.E., she battles Poison Ivy’s plant goons (accidentally decapitating one of them with a single kick) travels with the Dynamic Duo, Napolean, and Illya to Monte Carlo to face off against Hugo Strange and his new international crime syndicate, and almost throws hands with Strange all by herself.

In Batman ’66 Meets Wonder Woman ’77, she graduates from Batgirl to Batwoman (Kate Kane’s initial appearance never caught on, it would seem) and takes her place as the new police commissioner of Gotham City after her father retires.

And most recently, in Archie Meets Batman ’66, she and Dick Grayson go undercover as transfer students to help flush out the new supervillain threat plaguing Riverdale and its students, facing off against the Joker and Catwoman in particular so far while dealing with the rabid crushes Archie and Betty have on them.

And as long as people still show an interest in this iteration of Babs, there will probably be more content still to come. Not gonna lie, this is my favorite version of Barbara Gordon in any medium—I love her personality, her approach to challenges, her fighting style, her relationships with the rest of the cast, and even her costume. Maybe one day, in a new Batman ’66 comic, we’ll get to see more of a supporting cast for her—bring in Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Frankie Charles, Jason Bard, and all of the characters we’ve come to know and love from the greater DC canon! Hell, even better, give her a chance to become Oracle and pave the way for new Batgirls inspired by the good she’s done for Gotham! But for now, we should all take the opportunity to appreciate the most iconic Barbara Gordon and the legacy she left behind.

Before I go, I thought I’d leave you guys with a snippet from the Man From U.N.C.L.E. crossover comic that I think best encapsulates this Batgirl and why she does what she does. If ever Barbara Gordon had a mission statement, this is it, and I can never commend the comics enough for recognizing what makes her so special.

#dc #batman 66 #barbara gordon #the schemer speaks #I had this in me for a long time and I had to get it out.#I love her so much you guys have no idea--you could not ask for a more perfect Barbara Gordon outside of 'Birds of Prey.' <3

35 notes · View notes

xx-thedarklord-xx · 7 years

Text

As Time Passes

It wasn’t until Harry was six that he felt his hand start to burn and he knew that the Dursleys had lied to him! The unbearable pain was the sign of a soulmate bond forming

The only thing that made the pain and the tears worth it, was when Harry looked down and saw the name of the person that was made to love him.

Draco Malfoy

Harry traced the letters on his tender skin and marveled at the name. He knew that everyone had a soulmate and that this wasn’t technically special… but to Harry it was. This meant that there really was someone out there that could love him. They might not, Draco could even dislike him. But there was still a chance of love. Maybe they could be friends? Maybe they could be enemies? Maybe they would just be people who pretended to get along? None of that mattered, Harry would take Draco in any way possible. Because somewhere there was someone peering down at their own palm and seeing his name on it, wondering what kind of person Harry was.

Hopefully, he would live up to the expectation.

“No nephew of mine is going to be homosexual!” Those words were reverberating inside Harry’s mind as he tried to make himself smaller, even in the privacy of his cupboard. What did it matter if his soulmate was a boy? Didn’t it just show that a boy could love him? Didn’t it just show that love happened in many different ways? Why did it matter if the name was a boy?

Personally, Harry had never even heard of the name Draco before. Did it sound masculine? Wasn’t his Uncle being a little presumptuous?

Harry closed his eyes and tried so hard to picture what his soulmate would look like. Would they be a boy? Would they be a girl? Would they have long hair? Short hair? Would they have red hair? Black hair? Blonde hair? Brown hair? He didn’t care either way. The beating of his heart just ached for understanding. That’s all he wanted from his soulmate was understanding. If they could look at him and see someone worth taking a chance, then that’s all he could ask for.

“Draco.” Harry whispered, tracing the name on his palm softly.

His entire youth, the Dursleys forced Harry to wear gloves. They didn’t want anyone to see that his soulmate was a boy. Or even someone with such an odd name.

At first, it really bothered Harry. His mark wasn’t an inconvenience or a hindrance. It wasn’t a bad thing, nor did it deserve to be hidden away. He was proud of the name on his hand. Proud of whoever Draco Malfoy was as a person.

This was special. The name on his palm meant everything to Harry. It was something that was just for him. Something to treasure. So, in the end, it was okay to keep it covered. The rest of the world didn’t need to know who his soulmate was. They weren’t the ones who would be there. They weren’t the ones who would love Draco.

Harry found himself caressing his soulmate mark often and usually subconsciously. It was a form of comfort. Every time Uncle Vernon threw him into his cupboard, he would rub the mark and imagine that Draco would take him away from them. Every time Aunt Petunia would send him to bed without dinner, he would peer at the name and wish that Draco was there to comfort him. Every time Dudley and his gang would bully him, he would press his fingers to the words softly and envision Draco coming to help him.

“Draco.” Harry whispered, eyes clenched and fingers roaming his hand. He wished that he could find his soulmate He hated the idea of waiting until he was older to search for Draco.

Soulmates weren’t always something great. Harry saw the stories, read the paper and watched the news. Sometimes, even being a soulmate can’t stop the evil that can lurk in some people. Everyone has a soulmate. Murderers, criminals, thieves and everyone in between has someone that was meant for them. The marks don’t discriminate.

… But they also aren’t always fair. Mrs. Figg across the street, her soulmate died before she was born. His teacher’s soulmate committed suicide. Some people have more than one soulmate but don’t want to share. Some don’t want a soulmate at all and refuse to acknowledge the marks on their hand. Some choose to just be friends. While others despise their soulmate.

It would kill Harry if he finally found Draco to only to be turned away. The years spent picturing who his soulmate was couldn’t have been a waste. It couldn’t. What kind of justice would that be? He hoped beyond hope that somewhere Draco was of the same belief as him.

Please let him want me.

Harry spent his free time searching any database for a Draco Malfoy. The searches were always fruitless and completely disappointing. He had always assumed that since the name was so unique, that it wouldn’t be hard to find. But it was as if Draco didn’t exist.

That either meant that Draco wasn’t born yet or he had died already. Harry had been too afraid to search the obituaries for his soulmate. Didn’t want to see the person he dreamed of for years being already gone to the world. That would crush him in ways that he wasn’t prepared for.

By the time Harry was seventeen, he had searched every possible database, including foreign ones for anyone even resembling Draco’s name. But it came up empty.

This wasn’t the end of the search. That could still mean that Draco could be born at any moment. Harry could wait a few years and continue the search again. But doing nothing in the meantime was not preferable.

With a glance at the search engine for lost soulmates, Harry knew that he had to know. He just had to know if Draco was still alive.

Another two years before he had searched every single death in the last seventy years on all continents.

There wasn’t a single Draco Malfoy in any of them.

What did this mean? Did his soulmate even exist? Was there a Draco Malfoy in the world at all? The only conclusion that was left to draw was that he just wasn’t born yet. But Harry was already nineteen, that was a big age gap already. Did that mean that he was just supposed to be a friend? Or even a mentor?

Harry clenched his eyes tightly as he fought the tears that were threatening to come. He was right here. Waiting for the evidence of his soulmate. Hoping that this wouldn’t be his life. He couldn’t spend every waking moment just waiting for Draco to come along. He couldn’t. That would crush his spirit.

But giving up on Draco wasn’t something that Harry could do either.

Where are you Draco?

“Excuse me, are you Harry Potter?”

Harry had been about to get into his car, the one that was on its last leg and definitely not up to anyone’s safety standards. His brows rose at a man with a fiery red robe of some kind that clashed horribly with his red hair that was several shades lighter.

“Depends on what you are selling. If it’s a new life, then I’m sold.”

Then man looked so taken aback that Harry wondered if he wasn’t much of a joker. “Yes, that’s me.” He added in a cheery voice that didn’t match his personality.

“The same Harry Potter that has the name Draco Malfoy on his hand?”

The whole world came to a standstill and Harry’s breath left him in a whoosh. His heart was beating so rapidly that he wondered if this was a medical problem. Surely, this wasn’t normal.

“Do—” Harry’s voice cracked. “Do you know where he is?”

The flicker of pain on the stranger’s face had Harry’s face falling and tears already forming. “No. No, No.” He shook his head rapidly. “Please tell me he’s alright.”

“I—” The stranger looked around the driveway before looking at his feet. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

In the back of Harry’s mind, he knew that if he missed work, he would be fired. But he had spent so much of his life looking for Draco that he couldn’t turn the man away. Not even if this was bad news. He had to know.

Harry turned around and walked back up the five flights of stairs that led to his tiny apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to speak up but the sound of the man following him was enough for now.

After apologizing for only having the one couch to sit on, Harry gazed steadily at the other man who had introduced himself as Ron.

“I don’t know where to begin and I hate that I have to be the one to tell you this.”

Harry closed his eyes at the first stinging to them. He clenched his fists tightly and prayed that the words he knew were about to come out, would magically be different.

“Malfoy—I mean Draco—uh.” Despite the situation, Harry couldn’t help but feel for the guy. He was obviously uncomfortable. “As of last week, Draco has officially been declared dead.”

The tears fell, and Harry didn’t bother stopping them. He had always known that this could be a possibility, but the reality was far more painful than he thought it would be.

“How? What happened?” Harry choked out, not able to open his eyes and see the pity in them.

“That’s hard to explain.”

There was a hesitant quality to his tone but Harry was far from caring. “Just tell me.” The demand wasn’t as firm as he would have liked it to be. It would seem that the pain in his heart was manifesting in his voice as well.

“There is an… organization… that isn’t known to the public. Draco was a part of that organization, as well as I am. Which is why if you have gone looking for him, you wouldn’t have found anything.”

Harry opened his eyes and blinked away his tears enough to be able to see Ron. “Some kind of Government organization?” That would make sense, he had searched every possible database for Draco.

“Sort of.” Harry could tell that the man wasn’t exactly being truthful but if it was classified, then that also made sense.

“We were at… war… and Draco unfortunately got caught in the crossfire.”

War? “What war? Surely, that would have been announced.”

By the way Ron looked away, he knew that something else was going on here but Harry didn’t have any standing to make the other man talk. Especially if this really was something to do with the government.

“I can’t go into any details regarding what happened but I have something that he wanted you to have.” The man reached into his funny looking robe and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. Only the paper was old and kind of reminded him of what a scroll would be like.

The breath that was already shaky, left Harry in a painful whoosh. This would make it too real. This wasn’t something that he could handle.

Harry stretched his trembling fingers out and gently pulled the paper out of Ron’s hands. He looked down at it with reverence. “What was he like?” Opening the letter wasn’t something he wanted to do in front of the other man but he also needed to know more about Draco.

An uncomfortable look flittered across Ron’s face. “I’m not the best person to answer this.” He began in a warning. “We didn’t get along. Complete opposites.” There was a fond look on Ron’s face and that hurt Harry more than he thought it would be. Ron got to know Draco. Ron got to know him enough to be fond of him. It wasn’t fair.

“Our families have known each other for a long time and it was always a feud.” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t tell you what kind of person he was because I didn’t know him well enough. Not really. I never bothered to get to know Draco like that.”

That bothered Harry. Because he had spent his whole life wishing to be able to get to know Draco and Ron had the opportunity and didn’t even try? That feud must have been bad.

“But what I can tell you, is that he loved you.”

Harry gasped painfully and shook his head, trying not to start crying again.

“It was always hard to get Draco to talk about himself, his family, or really anything at all. Especially after he joined our side. But anytime soulmates were brought up, he would always smile softly and tell everyone that he knew his was the best.”

The battle not to cry was nonexistent as Harry covered his mouth with his hands and begged silently for Ron to stop talking. But a small part wanted the redhead to keep going.

“Draco loved to imagine who you were and what kind of person you would be. We used to tease him that you could be someone mental but he always said that that wouldn’t bother him if it was true. That he would be proud of whoever you were.”

Harry had never had someone be proud of him. Never had someone who had said anything remotely nice to him like that. It hurt, hurt badly.

“He had plans to find you when the war was over. He was going to search the world until he found you. Didn’t even care that you might be a muggle.” At Harry’s confused look, Ron coughed and hurried to explain himself.

“That’s just a term we use for people who aren’t in on our organization.”

Harry nodded his head and looked down at his letter. “Thank you for finding me.” He bit his lip, tears causing his vision to be blurry. “I have looked for him for a long time. Knowing is better than dreaming.”

Ron’s eyes were suspiciously wet as he bade him goodbye but Harry couldn’t judge him for that.

Dear Harry,

I never wanted to write this. This was something that I set up just in case I don’t make it out of this war alive. I know none of this makes sense and I wish that I could elaborate. Just know that I am in an awful position and will probably have done something stupid.

Being afraid of death has never been something I considered. Everyone dies at one point. The only question is, when? There aren’t many things in life that I regret, but never meeting you is one of them.

Merlin, Harry. I have spent my whole life wondering who you could be. I know that soulmates are everywhere and don’t always end well but I couldn’t help but dream for the best. I didn’t have the best childhood. This might sound silly, but I used to dream that you were my family. That you could somehow find a way to save me.

But you weren’t there. I had to save myself.

No matter the situation, whether I was happy, upset, safe or in danger; I always wished that you were by my side. I know that not all soulmates crave a relationship or even close comfort but I hoped that you would be the exception. Because I love you.

I know that might sound weird, especially considering we have never met but I do. I love you. I know that I would have loved everything about you. Even if you have awful bad habits or no sense of fashion. I would have loved you if you snore in your sleep or have to have a window open at night. I would have loved you if you had no self-esteem or heaping amounts of it. I would have loved all your imperfections and definitely your merits. I love whoever you are Harry Potter.

I wish that things could have gone differently. It kills me that I have to write this. I am not afraid of dying, as I have already said, but I am afraid to leave without you. How can you spend your whole life dreaming of someone, only to have the cruel temptation of love ripped away? It’s not fair. I see happy soulmates everywhere I look and I hate them. I hate that they get the one thing I can’t have.

I will have died by the time you are reading this and I can’t stress enough how sorry I am. I have it easy, death is easy. You have to live with the grief of not only my death but also never meeting me.

I’m sorry, Harry. So sorry. I would trade everything I possibly could to be able to see you. Even if it is just once.

Please don’t grieve for me too hard. I want you to enjoy the world. I want you to be able to live your life. I know that this might not be worth something but I really do love you. Not even death will be able to take that away from me. So, in your waking life, know that with each breath you take, my love will continue to flow through you. That was terribly sappy, pretend I didn’t say that.

I wish I could write forever. If it is the only way to be close to you, then I will take it. I will take all I can get. If you don’t love me, I understand. I know that this is all slightly insane but don’t begrudge me of my fantasy. Because when I die, it’s going to be with the thought that you love me just as much as I love you.

You better live a long and happy life. I don’t want to see you in the afterlife until it’s your time. And that better be when you are old and wrinkling. We may not have gotten this lifetime together but maybe we can be together in another one?

I guess I’ll see you on the other side. Goodbye Harry.

With so much love,

Draco Malfoy.

Harry clutched the letter to his heart as he sobbed uncontrollably. “I do.” He whispered brokenly. “I love you too.”

It wasn’t as if his life had changed drastically. Harry didn’t have a life with Draco before the knowledge of his death. But he mourned him. He mourned the life they could’ve had together and what they could have been. Harry mourned the boy who had loved him. Mourned Draco Malfoy and above all, never stopped loving him. Never stopped finding comfort in the name that was still on his hand.

Harry was late for work, again. His car had finally given up and just died on him. But he felt the urge to walk slow. Felt the need to take things light today. As he looked around the buildings that he usually whizzed past on his commute, he noticed a few odd ones. Some seemed to be there but no one else noticed them. It was as if they didn’t exist outside a few others.

He shook his head and decided to never skip his morning tea, especially if thoughts like that were making their way into his mind.

Harry was about to start a quick jog, hoping to make it to work at an acceptable fashionably late, instead of one that would get him fired but the sight of a familiar man with red hair had him pausing.

Ron was sitting in one of the buildings that a lot of people seemed to ignore. The man was talking to a woman that he couldn’t really make out well. She had really bushy hair but other than that, it was hard to make out anything else.

When Ron looked up and spotted him, Harry waved a little bit, unsure if he really wanted to see the man again. The wide-eyed look of horror was not something that Harry thought he would be on the receiving end of. Did he do something wrong? It wasn’t like he had been following Ron. He just happened to be walking by.

Harry watched the redhead speak to his companion before they both stood up and ran towards the exit. He debated with himself, wondering if he should just take off running. This seemed like it would be a bad conversation.

He had just turned to sprint when a cry of his name was called. Harry sighed heavily before he turned around and plastered a fake smile on his face.

“Ron.” He didn’t bother saying it was nice to see him. Because it really wasn’t.

“You saw me.” Ron panted when he was right up next to him.

Harry’s brows pinched in confusion, he looked to the woman to see if this was making sense but she looked equally surprised.

“It was a window. They are see through, you know.”

A surprised snort escaped Ron’s companion before she let out an exasperated, “Your personality fits Draco’s so well.”

“Don’t.” Harry’s voice cracked. “Don’t talk about him. Please.” Not when he was still having trouble going a single day without thinking about his soulmate.

Compassion filled the girl’s warm brown eyes and Harry was just grateful that it wasn’t pity.

“Harry, I know this won’t make sense.” Ron began patiently. “But you can see the building I was just in?”

Harry was beginning to think that Ron was a little mental but he nodded his head and glanced back towards the building. “Yes. It looks a little dodgy but yeah, I can see it.” The why, was clearly heard but not spoken.

Ron’s face crumpled before he took a step away. “Don’t kill me.” The begging tone was a surprise and had Harry arching a brow.

“It would seem that we have a lot of explaining to do.” The woman began softly, stepping in front of Ron, making her the only thing Harry could see. “Because Draco is alive.”

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

This was already long and I couldn't really add more without putting the whole thing on here. But if you are interested in the rest of this story, that can be found here.

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #harry x draco #draco x harry #Soulmate #Love

1K notes · View notes