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#very proud of the second one :) perhaps...my magnum opus
serenescribe · 2 years
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“may the caffeine be your weaponry” — A Villain Espresso AU
(Or: That time I made an “Espresso steals the Soul Jam” AU 2 months before Devsisters put it in canon, completely killing me and my plans)
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In April, I started working on an AU where Espresso stole one of the ancients’ Soul Jams and experimented with it, causing him to spiral down into a dark path, effectively becoming a villain in his own right. This was going to be my magnum opus, with over ten planned chapters — and perhaps it would have been even longer! — and multiple POVs along the way. There was even going to be a follow-up aftermath story with a focus on Espresseleine!
And then two months later, Devsisters released Cookie Odyssey Chapter 2, in which Espresso created his own Soul Jam.
While I was… somewhat happy that I managed to predict canon — in the sense of my AU and canon sharing the basic concept of “Espresso fucks around with Soul Jam and reaps the consequences” — I was also a bit gutted. It’s true that canon-divergent AUs have always existed, but the downside of making an AU with a base concept so similar to something happening in canon was that my brain would always be comparing the two.
I don’t know if I’m going to write this story as it is now. At the moment, I’m waiting for Chapter 3 of Cookie Odyssey to release before watching everything and deciding what to do next. But I wanted to make an extensive summary post talking about my AU — the premise, my planning process, the main characters involved, and more — as a proof of concept, that I did come up with this first.
Besides, I’m still very proud of what I’ve created. I hope that you’ll enjoy it too.
(Everything is under the cut)
PREMISE
After the defeat of Dark Enchantress, Espresso vanishes, along with one of the Soul Jams.
Spurred by adrenaline and an unabating curiosity, he flees the Cookie Kingdom in the dead of night, determined to dissect and evaluate every bit of the mythical substance with his own hands. Along the way, he finds an unlikely ally in Pastry — who’s on the run from the St. Pastry Order — and together, the unlikely duo head up north to Dark Cacao territory, aiming to seek refuge with Affogato, Espresso’s estranged elder brother.
Meanwhile, after discovering the Soul Jam’s disappearance, Clotted Cream, fearing for the worst, launches a hunt against Espresso to retrieve the powerful artefact before anything dangerous can come of it. Disagreeing with his decision, Latte and Madeleine form their own search party, departing in a desperate hurry to track down the missing mage before the relentless Consul finds him first.
It’s a race to get to Espresso as quickly as possible, the looming threat of another power-driven conflict hanging over everybody’s head. After all, the coffee mage is famed for being a dedicated researcher, dissecting every inch of his own magic meticulously until every little detail is thoroughly understood. With the untapped power of the Soul Jam readily available to him…
Well, as the saying goes, “Curiosity killed the cat.” 
(But would satisfaction bring it back?)
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THE INITIAL CREATION
The first thing you need to understand about me is that I get most of my creative inspiration from listening to music. The second thing is that I always like doing things differently from the norm.
Back in April 2022, when I was starting to get more heavily into Cookie Run: Kingdom, I began toying with the possibility of creating a Villain AU for Espresso. This was spurred by two things:
The first: I was listening to “A Good Song Never Dies” by Saint Motel. Really good song, by the way. It gave me just the right vibe I needed for this AU — somebody making a catastrophic decision, with repercussions; not knowing who someone actually is; and finally, the line “Make the caffeine be your weaponry”. It was perfect.
(A slight tangent: I initially misheard that line as “May the caffeine be your weaponry”, hence the name of the AU being different. Whoops.)
The second: I saw plenty of people making corruption arcs for Madeleine, thanks to his Crimson Knight costume. And as I said earlier, I like challenging myself and doing things a little differently. Since Madeleine going bad was the more popular concept, I wanted to see if it could be done with Espresso.
Initially, I toyed with a few different concepts. Remember that the base idea I was working with was “How to make a Villain AU for Espresso while having it still be in character for him”. Took a bit, but I eventually landed on the Soul Jam idea, and I rolled with it! Below is a compilation of some of the brainstorming I did at the very beginning.
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The original version of the AU was… rough. It was sorely underdeveloped and, as a result, it was stuck in a weird limbo for a while since I couldn’t work out a good plotline. I roughly knew that I wanted it to be a sort of “chase” story — Espresso having disappeared first, supposedly “missing” until people realised he stole the soul jam; while Madeleine and Latte follow behind, determined to track him down and… I guess, save him from himself? You know how Espresso is. There wasn’t a real antagonist, and I couldn’t work out a third person to join Espresso and Pastry.
It wasn’t until Cookie Odyssey Chapter 1 was released, along with a lengthy brainstorming session with my good friend Sheep, that I ended up returning to this AU, finally expanding on it and patching up the plot holes that hindered any progress.
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NEW CHANGES
Since my planning process is a mess known as “I have like ten plot points and I will wing everything else”, I’ll just talk about the changes made from that point onwards, and other plot stuff.
Back in May, Clotted Cream arrived in Kingdom! Remember how during Chapter 1, we all thought he was going to be antagonistic? Hah… yeah. But the Republic being the antagonists — not the villains, because to be fair, Espresso is doing something fantastically dangerous here — was perfect for this AU. After all, right from the very start of Chapter 1, they were shown to seek interest in the Soul Jam. Additionally, Espresso himself hails from the Republic, so there’s personal stakes involved. That was one glaring plot hole resolved.
I also ended up introducing Affogato as the third member to round off Espresso and Pastry’s little trio. Affogato’s inclusion as an integral character actually patched up a lot of other plot holes. While Espresso stealing the Soul Jam is believable, he also isn’t stupid. He prides himself on his logic and reasoning. Snatching the Soul Jam was a reckless and downright suicidal move, especially since he’d have a target on his back, making enemies of all the kingdoms and the Republic itself.
Affogato resolved that plot hole because he’s a serial gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss aficionado. In the AU, he was the one who encouraged Espresso to steal the Soul Jam and experiment with it for himself. After all, the Republic was negotiating with the other ancients for White Lily’s Soul Jam, which was retrieved after the war against Dark Enchantress, in hopes of studying it closely. Once that deal went through, Espresso would no longer have any opportunity to study the properties of the Soul Jam personally.
Affogato is… honestly, the driving force of the plot. After the events of Chapter 13 and 14, he’s hiding in Dark Cacao territory. His only saving grace is the fact that Dark Cacao was more focused on the war against Dark Enchantress to hunt him down thoroughly, allowing him to stay under the radar. But he’s still a megalomaniac, and so he uses Espresso’s curiosity and desire for experimentation to his advantage, going so far as to personally spike Espresso’s drink with the properties of the Soul Jam that Espresso extracted and liquified, causing him to plummet into immense agony, burning from the inside out with power he can’t control—
Yeah, we’ll unpack that later in the characters section.
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PLOT (BUT INFORMAL)
Anyways, the story goes something like this:
Espresso flees with the Soul Jam, heads up north and meets Pastry, the two deciding to work together. They reach Affogato’s place, wherein Espresso starts experimenting with the Soul Jam, hoping to extract and liquify its properties in order to fully analyse it, and to determine whether it can be split between multiple people, offering a boost to their powers.
After Espresso succeeds, Affogato steals the liquified Soul Jam and spikes Espresso’s drink with it, causing his powers to massively amplify. My headcanon was that the Soul Jam acted as a physical amplifier for people to channel their abilities through, so Espresso physically ingesting it acted as a permanent, uncontrollable boost to his magic. He ends up knocked out for multiple days, teetering on the verge of death while Pastry helps him to pull through (all while she threatens to k-word Affogato).
Meanwhile, Almond lets Latte know that the Soul Jam is missing, and that the Republic is launching a large interrogation. After some time, Clotted Cream determines that Espresso going missing and the Soul Jam disappearing are linked, declaring a hunt to track down Espresso before he does anything reckless. Disagreeing with this, Madeleine actually abandons his duties to head off with Latte and a couple of others, their ragtag group heading north on Latte’s hunch that Espresso may have sought refuge with her other cousin, Affogato.
(Note: I use the headcanon that Espresso and Affogato are siblings, and Latte is their cousin.)
Latte and Madeleine’s group arrive around the time Espresso is beginning to recover, just in time to watch him blast Affogato out the window in a fit of anger. Espresso’s still recovering though, so he’s mainly out of it for the most part.
Sometime after, the Republic arrives, having tracked down Latte and Madeleine. Their ragtag group tries to fight, only to fail; and then Espresso wakes up and walks outside and demolishes half of the Republic’s forces with his magic, forcing Clotted Cream to call for a retreat.
From this point onwards… Uh.
So what happened is that I never got this far in extensively developing the plot; I know how it ends, and I know some stuff that happens along the way, but the specifics are lost on me. But basically, Affogato manipulates Espresso due to Espresso’s weaker mental and emotional state (thanks to the Soul Jam taking a toll on him), causing their trio to leave, turning their backs on Latte and Madeleine. 
There’s a chase that takes place over the course of several chapters — during which two new characters join their trio: Strawberry Crepe, who’s curious about the Soul Jam’s effects on Espresso; and Red Velvet, who is compelled to help when Affogato promises him a safe space for his cake hounds to live in peacefully.
Also, Espresso wrecks Clotted Cream a second time. That’s fun.
As for the ending… I don’t really want to spoil how the story ends. There’s a chance that I may write this in the future still, and the ending is simultaneously underdeveloped and cemented in place. But what I will say is this:
This story does not end happily for anyone involved. But there is an aftermath story, so it is not as tragic as it seems.
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CHARACTERS
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Espresso:
Stole White Lily’s Soul Jam and fled, planning to study it out of his own curiosity and determination to prove his theories right. Thanks to his irregular correspondence with his older brother, Affogato, Espresso takes him up on his offer to study the Soul Jam at his hideout.
Though he is initially as strong-willed and self-assured as he is in canon, after Espresso ingests the extracted Soul Jam, he becomes a lot weaker — physically, emotionally, and mentally. He ends up spiralling down the path of corruption after falling prey to Affogato’s manipulations.
Turns against Latte and Madeleine thanks to Affogato. At a later point, he makes it clear that he won’t hesitate to kill them if they continue to chase after him incessantly.
Stupidly powerful now, thanks to the Soul Jam he ingested amplifying his abilities to be on-par with the ancients — if not even stronger in some ways, due to his meticulous research into perfecting his own magic.
Outfit Lore: Trades the full-length cloak for a capelet. The bottom of his cape is not in good quality due to his rough travels up north, and subsequent experimenting. No more tie. Design is meant to look slightly more “loose” since he’s spiralling down a path instead of remaining his usual dignified self, but I don’t know if I achieved that.
Pastry:
On the run from the St. Pastry Order following the defeat of Dark Enchantress. For a long while, Pastry struggled with what she had seen at the Tower of Sweet Chaos, up until she made the decision to flee.
She runs into Espresso, pulling him into a bush and telling him to shush due to the presence of Shadow Sisters trying to assassinate Pastry.
Due to being disconnected from the events that occurred in the Cookie Kingdom, Pastry was not aware of why Espresso fled until he showed her White Lily’s Soul Jam. Despite this, she decided to continue sticking with him, the two of them having forged an ironclad bond over the course of their journey.
Does not trust Affogato. In all honesty, her presence is probably the only thing stopping Affogato from fully manipulating Espresso.
Outfit Lore: Having left the St. Pastry Order, Pastry now lets her hair down. She wears very different clothes — a capelet with a large hood so she can hide her face when needed; a high-collared shirt and a long shirt; and boots. She still carries her crossbow with her at all times.
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Affogato:
In hiding after the events of Chapter 13 and 14, but still as power-hungry as ever. He still desires to lead a kingdom of his own, attaining power and loyalty beyond his wildest dreams.
Spikes Espresso with the extracted Soul Jam because he doesn’t want to test it on himself in case it backfires. After all, it wouldn’t be good if Affogato himself died trying to achieve his goals, would it? He decides to take a gamble in trying to manipulate Espresso in order to achieve his goals — and it works.
Plans to use Espresso to take down anyone that comes after him, and to lure people into following him and Espresso. Essentially wants to make a kingdom of his own using his brother’s powers — on par with that of the ancients — to do so. Mainly targeted outcasts and stragglers, hoping to appeal to them with their whole… “We’re on the run from everybody” shtick. It succeeds, somehow.
Though he manages to turn Espresso against everyone else, he remains EXTREMELY frustrated that he can’t turn Espresso against Pastry.
DON’T TRUST HIM IN ANY CAPACITY.
Outfit Lore: Loses the fluffy-cloak thing after falling from grace. His clothes are largely the same but a little simpler, including his hairpiece. Has longer hair, tied up into a high bun with strands falling down.
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Madeleine:
Accidentally exposed the fact that Espresso was missing since he was looking for him while the interrogation was ongoing.
For the first time ever, he throws aside his loyalty to the Republic in favour of tracking down Espresso — though this is more because Clotted Cream forbade him from joining the search due to believing that Madeleine’s personal connections to Espresso would make him… biased.
Absolutely RELENTLESS in his search, even when the other members of their search party give up and abandon the hunt after Espresso implores them to stop, stating that he’s not planning to start any wars or seek out world domination.
In a way, his point-of-view is that of a hero saving someone from distress — or in this case, saving Espresso from himself. Which isn’t really that good a thing when Espresso begins threatening them all with death.
Do not mistake him for a selfless hero. His motives are anything but. In fact, Madeleine is responsible for the ending to the story, and the events that take place in the aftermath story. 
Outfit Lore: Ditches his cape for a large… scarf-cloak hybrid? It’s cold up north, after all. He also ties his hair into a low ponytail.
Latte:
Though she still tries to keep things lighthearted, she’s plenty more serious in this story, especially after Espresso turns his back on her and Madeleine.
Does not trust Affogato in any capacity. While Madeleine’s reasons for continuing the hunt are spurred by selfish feelings towards Espresso, Latte’s motivations involve taking down Affogato and getting Espresso away from her cousin’s manipulations as soon as she possibly can.
Keeps their search party a couple of steps ahead of the Republic with the help of Almond’s tips. Unable to join them on the hunt, Almond frequently sends them messages tipping them off to the Republic’s next actions.
I don’t know what else to put here but please believe me when I say that Latte has a key role in the story as one of the POV characters, being the one leading the search party and knowing where they should go next, thanks to her close relationship with Espresso allowing her to predict his next moves.
Outfit Lore: Wears a thick inner shirt because it’s cold up north. Also wears Almond’s coat; since he couldn’t come with them, he lent Latte his jacket to stay warm. What a caring boyfriend.
Other characters:
Strawberry Crepe: Their role was not developed very much, but they were meant to be a part of Latte and Madeleine’s search party, before joining up with Espresso’s group after the first Republic confrontation. They joined because they were curious about how the Soul Jam affected Espresso, considering he ingested it internally.
Red Velvet: A late member to Espresso’s party. He has been hiding somewhere ever since the defeat of Dark Enchantress, fearing for his cake hounds if he gets caught. Affogato managed to convince him to join and help them by promising a safe spot in his future kingdom for Red Velvet and his cake hounds to stay in. Hits it off with Pastry.
Clotted Cream: Despite being the antagonist of the story, he isn’t the villain. From his point-of-view, what he’s doing is logical — a wild card mage known to have strong research skills stole the Soul Jam, and promptly disappeared. With his cool head and calculating movements, he manages to track down Espresso on two different occasions, only to be unfortunately obliterated each time.
Almond: Assisted in spearheading the initial interrogation. Unable to join Latte’s search due to his role as detective, roping him into assisting the Republic and the other Kingdoms. Sends tips and other messages to keep Latte alert of everyone’s movements. Does worry for Espresso, and is against taking him out entirely.
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FINAL THOUGHTS
I’m still very proud of this AU, and I sincerely hope that I can actually work on it in the future — though whether I’ll keep it as it is or change it drastically to fit more with canon, I’m not sure yet.
There’s still plenty of stuff I never got to develop, and other things I wish I could have talked about. I also have a bunch of drafted dialogue and other scenes from when I was attempting to write out this story. I might share it in the future if people are interested, but if this post doesn’t gain much traction, then it’ll just remain as it is as a proof of concept that I came up with this AU before Chapter 2 of Cookie Odyssey was released.
On another note, I have a music playlist for this AU, if anybody is interested in it. You can find it here <Edit: Temporarily removed the Spotify playlist link due to some issues>. However, I’d consider the following songs to be key songs for the development of this AU:
Killer — The Hoosiers
A Good Song Never Dies — Saint Motel
Touch-Tone Telephone — Lemon Demon
Black Mambo — Glass Animals
Kingdom of Welcome Addiction — IAMX
The Mariana — Everything Everything
How to Start a War — Simon Curtis
If you’ve reached the end, thank you for reading this entire lengthy mess of a post! Please do come talk to me about the AU if you want; my ask box is open! ^^ Additionally, please consider reblogging it; I put a lot of effort into this, and it would make my day if it gained some traction.
(Oh, and if you want a little hint at the way the ending goes?
“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”)
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mikkeneko · 4 years
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A decade of writing
It's the last 12 hours of the year and of the decade, and although I mostly don't bother with the memes of the day, I thought I'd do a bit of past looking over my growth as a writer.
2019 retrospective
I finally finished One Elegant Solution, a monster of a fic I'd started in 2016 and labored on for three years. At 80 chapters, 370k words, and 3 years, it was the largest single piece of fanfic (or anything) that I've ever written, although the combined pieces of Wizards and Heralds were not far behind at 314k total. It was my magnum opus in Dragon Age fandom and also my good-bye to that series, and I felt very relieved and accomplished to have finished it. Still can't believe anybody decided to tune into it, since at the time I started writing it it seemed like a recipe full of all the things nobody wants to see in a fic:
full of OCs and characters so minor they might as well be OCs
focused mostly on dwarves, which get very little interest in the fandom
almost no focus on romance - Hawke doesn't even show up until 300k in
very little focus on combat or adventure; the entire story is focused on politics and community
But it was the story I wanted to write, and people showed up for it. I think that taught me a valuable lesson: write what you care about, put your love into it, and people will show up. If you write only to a formula of what you think the audience wants to see, they will sense your lack of engagement and they won't engage either.
Apart from OES, everything else I wrote in 2019 was Critical Role. A total of... *counts* 22 fics, 2 of which are still ongoing WIPs, most of the rest of which were one-shots. The top four according to AO3 are:
Lost & Found
Molly's Moving Castle
Catleb & the Meowty Nein
Sojourn
Which I would also say probably represent my best work. Of the four, I think I'm most proud of Sojourn; like Rise From Ash before it, it hit the rare combination of being able to do what I wanted, the way I wanted, in a way that seemed to resonate with the audience. Like many writers I'm often dissatisfied with my work, but not this time -- I'm happy with what I accomplished with that fic and don't think I'd change anything (except maybe to rewrite chapter 3 in Yasha's POV, so that every character would get a POV chapter... anyway.)
In 2020 I hope to be able to finish up Molly's Moving Castle and possibly Fjord's YEEHAW! Ranch, and hopefully not start any new big fanfic WIPs.
In the last month or two of 2019 I also got bitten by a bug I've never really experienced before: I got an idea for an actual original work. I'm sort of excited to try that in 2020, since it will be all new territory for me! Tune in in 2020 for the adventures of Gigi the Deepcaller of Underearth, the last bastion of free life on the planet since the gods of evil overwhelmed the surface world. (I hope.)
2010s retrospective
There's so much stuff here that it would be overwhelming to dive into it, so I'll just summarize: 2010 was conveniently the year I started up my AO3 account, so all my stats are on there.
I started the decade in the Tsubasa fandom, from there went to MCU, to Dragon Age, and to Critical Role at the end of the decade. I remember the Tsubasa fandom as being small but supportive; MCU fandom as being huge and overwhelming; Dragon Age as being invigorating, but contentious; and Critical Role, well, too soon to say yet.
From a writer's perspective I would say that the audiences are palpably different. MCU fans are very actively engaged with the material and speculate a lot more; one of them guessed the major plot twist of my story as soon as the second comment of the first chapter. Tsubasa fans were much more content to wait for the story to unfold and not do a lot of guessing. DA and CR are both somewhere in between.
One thing I’ve definitely noticed is the gradual decline of shipping and smut in my fic over the decade. My earlier fics tended to focus on shipping almost exclusively, but starting around MCU and going onwards, there has been more and more emphasis placed on gen, adventure and intrigue and character building, with shipping taking a more and more distant role in the story. I don’t think I’ve written a sex scene since... *checks* RESET in 2017, and before that nothing since 2015. Compared to my uhh colorful record in, say, the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom, this is a big  change.
Anyway, the totals for the entire decade: Fics written: 173 Word count: 2,285,949 words; the equivalent of 45 NaNos, or just under 4 War and Peaces. Comment threads: 5,293 (threads, so not counting my replies) Hits: 720,040
It's strange sometimes to think sometimes that I, a fanfic writer who's never had anything 'officially' published, have probably had my work seen by more people than the vast majority of authors who penned works in the first six thousand or so years of civilization. So much has been lost to time, and even of what was retained, much of it is only read by a few scholars and historians. The ones who have weathered the ages to be read widely today are anomalies, perhaps literally one-in-a-million.
I'm so glad to have lived in this time, in this place, where I can reach out to so many people and share something with you, even if it was no more than a passing touch in the dark.
Cheers!
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justice-for-shayla · 5 years
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Chicken/Egg
A/N: The prompt was Sex before Love and Mutual Pining and I went all the way off. I guess I had something to get off my chest. 
Word Count: 1941 
Warnings: Sexual content, though not graphic, scary academic situations, angst, complete lack of editing,
Tag List: I’m tagging people who liked the prompt ask and some writers I admire in the hopes that people will read this because I’m very proud of it. @sassystrawberryk, @lieblingliebgott, @r-ahh-mi, @rami-hoe, @elliotmercury
Your acquaintance started with crowds.
He was a face you saw in a coffee shop, the only person who was there as often and as long as you were. You spoke for the first time when he came over to your table, awkward as all hell.
“Is someone sitting here?”  
The empty chair in front of you was a challenge. You both . knew perfectly well that you came in here nearly every day and spent hours working on one assignment or another, and no one had ever joined you. You had seen him watching you, and he had seen you watching him right back. The fact that the lunch rush had the place so packed that there really was no option other than for strangers to share was just the thing that finally made it impossible for the two of you to keep ignoring each other.
“No.” 
He shuffled, worrying the strap of his bag. “Can I sit there?” He gestured at the crowd, at all the full tables, at the first dates and business meetings and tired moms catching up.
You nodded and shifted your stuff on the table, allowing him a bit of space. “Sure.”
It took all of three minutes for him to get annoying. He didn’t have to say anything-- people rarely did with you-- it was apparent without words. He typed way to fucking fast.
The stupid clicking was rattling around in your head, driving all the very salient points you’d been trying to put into your essay out of your head. “Could you not?” You snapped after a minute?
“What?” He looked up at you with an expression like you’d yanked him out of a movie theater in the middle of the show.
“The… clicking. It’s annoying.”
He looked at his hands. “Um, sure.”
To his credit, he did try, and you appreciated that, so even when it kept being annoying you didn’t say anything else.
The next time you came in in the middle of the lunch rush, you saw him tucked in the corner like a shadow, and beelined for his table, rather than make eye-contact with the guy who was clearly trying to pack up the nerve to offer you his spare chair.
“Do you mind?” You asked, already putting your stuff down.
He just nodded.
His typing was less annoying today somehow, and you did your work in silence while he did his, neither of you overly concerned with the other’s presence.
Your friendship started with panic.
Sitting with him had become natural, an easy second-best to sitting alone. Neither of you bothered to ask before sitting anymore.
“Morning, Y/N,” He said, surprising you as you sat down.
“You know my name?” You asked, running through your limited conversations trying to remember when you’d told him that.
“Your coffee,” He said, “I noticed it last time.”
You stared at the cup, the barista’s scrawl marking out a slightly misspelled but legible version of your name. “Right.” You looked at his. “Ed? Huh, doesn’t fit somehow. Shit, sorry that was rude.”
“It’s not my real name,” He said casually, not looking up from his screen. “I’m Elliot.”
“You give a fake name when ordering coffee?” You asked.
He looked up at you, his eyes humorless and level. “It’s funny.”
“Right…” With that, you went back to your work.
Two hours later, you fucked something up. Your dissertation, nearly complete, nearly perfect, worth more to you than gold at this point, was gone.
“How? What the…” You searched through all your folders, sure that it had been moved somehow. Sure that this page, which said “File corrupted” in terrifyingly simple text, was somehow not your precious magnum opus. “How?”
Abruptly, your throat is closing and your eyes are filling with tears. “No… No, this can’t be--”
“Are you okay?” You had completely forgotten Elliot, he was so quiet, and in his dark clothes he slipped easily into the background, which is how you thought he wanted it.
You shook your head. “No, I… I did something dumb. I’m not even sure what-- My dissertation is gone.”
There was a small silence while expressions flitted across his face like he was arguing with himself. “Can I see?”
“I doubt there’s anything you can do, see it says that the file is  corrupted. Christ, i don’t even know what that means.”
Those eyes, which you were just now noticing were the most interesting color you’d ever seen, scanned over your screen. “Give me a minute.”
His fingers flitted over your keyboard, typing in languages you couldn’t make sense of. You vowed that if he managed this, you would never be irritated by his typing again.  He was almost exactly right; a little over a minute later he said, “Is this it?”
“Holy Christing Fuck,” You said, staring at your paper, risen from the dead like a sexy intellectual dracula. Unthinkingly, you stood up and moved around the table to wrap your arms around his neck.
He flinched, and you leapt back. “Christ, I’m so sorry. I have no sense of boundaries, I’m so sorry. Just… holy shit, thank you.”
In that moment, you could have kissed him, could have done a great many things to express your gratitude, not that you would have told him that.
“It’s fine,” He said, looking away from you. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
Somehow, that weirdness broke the ice, and after that you talked--Chatted!--whenever you sat together, and he even started walking you home if it got dark while you were there. He never answered when you asked what he was doing, but seeing as he lied about his name for coffee, this didn’t surprise or offend you. He was quirky; you liked that.
Fucking Elliot started because of the heat.
It got hot in New York in the summer, the ugly, sticky, shit-smelling heat that clogged pores and ruined moods. You had turned in your dissertation and were now researching a book, but your days looked the same as they always had. You woke up, you drank coffee, you researched and wrote.
And Elliot was there. Even when the heat got bad, he walked you home and didn’t take off his hoodie. You had kind of started to think about taking it off for him. Weeks and months sitting across from him at those stupid cafe tables had called certain things to your attention. His long fingers, his eyes which were so strangely colored and so fascinatingly keen, his low, steady voice which you were sure sounded amazing when it was gravelly with sex.
You didn’t say anything, remembering your disastrous attempt at hugging him, but at night you fantasized about those hands, those eyes, and that voice.
One day, it all crashed around you, like something out of a movie neither of you would like. He walked you home on a sweaty saturday, where thick clouds hung over the city like wool blankets, making the air soupy and hard to breathe. You were walking, a block away from your apartment when they finally released their burden in a sudden onslaught.
You were soaked through in an instant but you ran anyway and Elliot ran with you, his limbs flying strangely like he’d only heard of running, and was just now trying it out. If you hadn’t been floundering in a rain-soaked white dress you probably would have stopped to laugh at him.
As it was, you both powered to your building door, and strangely, he didn’t stop at the stoop like normal, he followed you up the stairs, right to your door.
His hair was stuck to his forehead, his hoodie sodden and clinging to him, and he was frozen in place staring at you.
What had been loose, flowing white fabric--perfect for the heat--was now transparent and plastered against your skin, highlighting every detail. He licked his lips, paused for a beat, and then put his hands on your shoulders.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
He did, and after a moment of frantic grasping at hair and clothes and keys and doorknobs, you both fell into your apartment and he pressed you against the wall and held you there.
Both of you had to get out of all those wet clothes, the urgency perhaps more extreme because of how much you wanted him inside you in that moment. Your dress fell next to his hoodie, winding around it like a strange, artistic yin-yang sign on the floor, which you barely had time to notice before he brought his lips back to yours and on your neck and then your chest, your nipples.
You had been right about his voice. It had been good before, but low and rough with need and desperation while he thrust into you, it was something else altogether. You wished you could have kept the sound he let out when he came for another rainy day, one when he wasn’t here and you would have to take care of yourself.
After that, you had sex regularly. The heat and the sweat of the New York summer didn’t subside, and the two of you made your apartment that much hotter, but somehow you didn’t mind. Elliot was surprisingly good in bed, and when he wasn’t, he listened and learned well. It was a perfect situation, he wasn’t too much in your life, and you weren’t too much in his, exactly as you wanted it.
Except that you started to talk after you fucked. He told you about his parents and his sister, and you told him about your classmates and your book. You learned that he wanted to help people, that he was lonely most of the time but that he cared deeply about things he would never speak of.
You started to love him because of him.
Because of all that kindness wrapped in all that damage. He was so perfectly your type, and you connected with him better than you had with anyone else, but not on that level. No, Elliot didn’t love you the way you loved him. You watched him become comfortable in your apartment and imagined him moving in, living with you in your shitty overpriced studio. He hadn’t even invited you over to his place.
But he let you in in other ways. He showed you his favorite movies and he would lay down with his head in your lap, no longer skittish about touching you. You let yourself believe that these things meant something, even though there was no way. Distance was what Elliot did best.
Still, you couldn’t pull away from him, not even to save your sorry excuse for a heart. You kept sleeping with him, sharing coffee with him, yearning for him whenever he looked away from you.
It was pathetic, and you couldn’t even really care. You wanted him, and you wished he wanted you. It was classic, the very definition of romance from those books you’d pretentiously enjoyed as a teenager.
For weeks, you assumed it was one-sided, that Elliot would never see this as more than a casual fuck between friends, but it changed rapidly, shifting in an instant just like everything in your relationship had before.
He was dozing off on your chest, laying over you in the slow, heavy moments after a particularly good orgasm when he muttered, quietly but perfectly distinctly in his beautiful voice, “I love you.”
Though you wanted to cry, or to leap out of bed and punch the air, you simply smiled and pressed a kiss against his head in an easy little affectionate gesture you’d been denying yourself. “I love you too.”
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helmes-deep · 6 years
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All good things must come to an end...
So the news finally came out yesterday. Can’t say it was totally unexpected: all good things must come to an end; all things must be expected to die someday. Jinyoung’s leaving seemed obvious to me, though Baro’s departure is certainly more surprising (and curious). That being said, I still feel slightly... off. Like the quick, sharp pain of ripping off the band-aid has finally come to pass, yet the mended wound is still clearly there, and I know it won’t feel quite the same as it did before. A part of me feels a little emptier, still misplaced... I still can’t picture B1A4 as 3 members (they’ll always be 5 to me, but y’all know what I mean :p): reading the news yesterday, it still all just doesn’t compute, haha.
Granted, I haven’t really been as excited about B1A4 as I have been since pre-Sweet Girl era (those of you who know me probably know that I haven’t really liked anything they’ve done since their magnum opus SOLO DAY :P). This might sound appalling, even abhorrent, to some, but upon hearing the news of B1A4 re-negotiating—and then extending—their contracts, I had much rather preferred that they disband altogether instead of staying as a fragmented group (I just hate imperfect, “unhappy” endings :///). As far as I was concerned, it was time to end it: B1A4′s fame, while not entirely extinct, was pretty much over, and their prime had come and gone (with or without the help of WM’s terrible management post-Sweet Girl era 🙄). Despite my declining level of interest with B1A4 within the past few years, however, not once did I ever not consider them to be my ultimate bias group. No matter what happened, I’d always come back to them. There’s just something so special about this group of “country-dol” boys—something so sweet, charming, endearing, precious, and truly amazing that I couldn’t quite find anywhere else—that I couldn’t ever bear to fully part with, no matter what other groups I got into or was later interested in. After Super Junior, B1A4 was the second K-pop group I really got into; they are also the first (and probably the last) group that I seriously, seriously got into. They’re such a group of talented, sweet, loving, and amazing people, and I honestly can’t think of my ultimate bias group ever changing. B1A4 have always been my number one and always will be, no matter what happens. They will always hold a very, very special place in my heart 💖🌱✨
I’ve never viewed a K-pop group’s 7-year run as their “7-year curse.” To me, it’s always made sense that a group lives on to be about 7 years old or so, before having to part ways or face some significant changes. Nothing lasts forever; nothing can live for eternity. Even when B1A4 debuted all the way back in 2011, when we were all perhaps too young or naive to realize it, one thing was for certain—their debut also signified their death, their inevitable end: the group to disband, the members’ needs to move on to bigger, better, and different things. So, rather than dwelling on B1A4′s “end” (which is only natural; I’m absolutely not saying that we should ignore, suppress, or dismiss such feelings), I’d rather focus on what they did accomplish within their magnificent 7-year run:
B1A4 literally built their company WM Entertainment from the ground up. They established not only their own presence and WM’s within the K-pop industry, but also helped to open the door for their juniors, such as Oh My Girl and ONF. And you cannot tell me that this didn’t have some effect, no matter how small, in helping K-pop lovers and wider audiences realize the value of, and also pay attention to, K-pop groups that come from smaller, less recognized/not-“Big 3”-companies. Being able to establish yourself within a highly competitive industry, as well as establish and solidify your company’s bearings, is no small task, yet B1A4 have been able to do this while still staying humble, grateful, respectful, considerate, and (mostly) staying out of trouble :p
B1A4 has blessed us with some GREAT music. Seriously, a lot of their songs have brought so much happiness and joy into my life (even though I know I probably sometimes complain about their musical direction a lot post-Sweet Girl era :pp). And it is clear that I’m not the only one whom they have positively affected through their music. Looking over y’all’s posts and reading y’all’s comments, it is clear that B1A4 was able to offer so many people such great joy, happiness, and hope through their music. And that, to be quite honest, is really AMAZING. Despite, I’m sure, of the boys being aware of how much time they had to accomplish what they needed—and wanted—to accomplish, I’m sure it’s a comfort to them knowing that their music and live performances have had a positive impact on so many individuals.
Seriously, they accomplished a lot. A notable, long discography filled with many solid, quality releases is just one of them. Even outside of B1A4, these five precious boys have done so much. Jinyoung has become a very respected and well-known composer and producer. Sandeul's been (generally) recognized as a vocal powerhouse. CNU’s gained recognition as a musical actor and singer. Baro’s also a noted actor, and Gongchan’s known for... well, doing his own thing, LEOL!! Each of these boys has accomplished so much during these past 7 years—you just can’t tell me that it should all be considered a “curse.” They’ve each come so far, and I am so freaking proud of them :’3
I hope that each of the boys’ decisions was the one they truly wanted. I wish all the best for Jinyoung, Baro, CNU, Sandeul, and Gongchan moving forward. There are still a lot of questions up in the air, especially in regard to Jinyoung’s and Baro’s futures and how B1A4 will be executed within the upcoming days, but overall, I hope it ends well for each of them. I’m happy there doesn’t seem to be any conflict between the members and that things ended amicably between them (and WM). And I hope, despite them being separated, that every now and then, they’ll pop up in each other’s radar (one can dream, ALRIGHT?!?!?!? xD). Their “death” or “ending” or “disbandment,” whatever you want to call it, could have ended in many other, and potentially much more nasty or disastrous, ways. In a sense, I’m glad it’s ended the way that it has. Things can’t stay the same forever; people have to, and will, change. That being said, I think there’s still a lot of positive stuff to look forward to. While this might be the “end” of B1A4, I don’t think it’s necessarily the end for each of the members. Jinyoung, I’m fairly sure, is still going to be heavily involved within the K-pop/entertainment industry. I’m not so sure about Baro, but I don’t think we’ve heard the last of him yet. And, of course, we’re sure to hear about CNU, Sandeul, and Gongchan soon since they’ve opted to stay with WM and continue on as B1A4. So it’s not quite over yet; the end hasn’t entirely happened upon us :pp But no matter what lies ahead, I want them to know that I’ll always love them, and I’ll always support them—no matter what happens. Whatever they decide to do or wherever they wish to go next—I’ll be right there with them. All I want to see is for them to fly high and to reach their dreams~ 🌱
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sufferthesea · 6 years
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Coffins (Yamato - Gen)
Summary: Yamato builds coffins. He doesn’t know what else to build. Words: 1.540 Rating/Warnings: Teen / Mentions of death, slight verbal/mental abuse, darker themes Inspiration: My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + the Machine  Part 1 of the Florence Fics Series (Also on AO3) 
The first time Yamato uses his Mokuton to build something useful, instead of as a weapon of war, he isn’t sure how he feels. A small voice at the back of his mind says he is wasting his time, using a tool as a toy. He is being careless, foolish, stupid. But another voice tells him that what he is doing is okay. It is good to use something like his Mokuton to help others, rather than harm them. It is good to build, than to destroy.
Still, the doubt lingers and the item - a small wooden top - sits untouched in a drawer for quite some time.
The second time is almost the same. A lightness in his stomach as he creates something good and useful, followed by the tightness in his chest as words of disapproval crowd his mind. The second voice is quiet, but still it is there.
It doesn’t take long for Yamato to realize that the first voice - the one to berate him and insult him and remind him that the Mokuton is a weapon, that he is a weapon - belongs to Danzo. But the second voice is harder to identify. He doesn’t know where such soft, kind words come from. It certainly isn’t himself, and he knows no one else who’d encourage him like this. Yet the voice is still there, letting him know it is okay to create for good.
Yamato learns to build all sorts of things. Chairs and tables, rocking horses and dolls, walls and buildings. He even builds a bench for Kakashi, one of the very few people who’ve been a near constant in his life. But it isn’t the only thing he builds.
Secretly, as the years pass and he watches comrades and dear ones fall in battle, Yamato builds coffins. The first one is very roughly hewn and lopsided - a result of being made during extreme emotion. Fear, anger, sorrow. The first coffin belongs to another member of ANBU and Yamato has never felt more ashamed of something he’s created.
He isn’t sure how to feel about making coffins. They are, in his opinion, halfway between good and bad. They keep bugs out and keep bodies in - they preserve and protect, which is good. But it is a reminder that whoever the coffin is for, is dead. Dead from battle, from disease, from themselves. One way or another, it is the same. Making coffins seems to be on the very edge of a thin line teetering between good and bad like Yamato himself. He still wonders if he is good, or if he is bad. It is far too easy for people in power to twist their stories and make him believe he’s doing good, when he’s not. So he sticks to what he does know, which is that he can create with wood and he’s a ninja of the Leaf Village.
Yamato makes a lot of coffins. Large ones and small ones - since war and death do not care about age or status. He builds coffins for ANBU, for teachers, for genin, even a few civilians. The more he makes, the better he gets. He hates the fact that he is so good at making things like coffins. What he hates even more is that he knows one day he’ll have to make the coffin he dreads most.
One day he makes a plain coffin with splintered edges and dull wood, just large enough to fit the body - his body. He knows one day he’ll need one and if he can make it now, it saves trouble for somebody else later. Even when it’s for himself, he only thinks of other people and how he can make sure he isn’t inconveniencing anyone. He hates the idea of being a bother even after death.
He sets it away in his apartment to forget about it, but he can never forget about it. Death is on his mind constantly. Death surrounds him on every mission. He wonders if somebody will find it after he dies and bury him in it - or if it’ll be forgotten, only to be unearthed weeks or months later when the landlord decides to rent out his empty apartment to somebody else. He wants to leave the wooden box alone, but he can’t help but wipe it down every now and again. He doesn’t want it collecting dust - doesn’t want to get too comfortable with the fact that his daily reminder of death is going untouched. Yes, he’s lived another day - but that just means he’s closer to using the coffin.
Yamato’s habit becomes an obsession and soon he is building coffins for everyone he knows, everyone he has ever interacted with. Some are haphazard, created in the dead of night as anxiety and guilt overtake him and he can’t stop thinking, “One day they’ll need this, one day they’ll need this,” but he hopes and prays that that day isn’t soon. Sometimes he gets his wish - and the coffins go unused for a long time. Sometimes he isn’t too lucky, and  only a short time later is the wooden box loaded up and buried deep under the cold earth. There are weeks when he cannot sleep because someone’s died before he’s made their coffin. He feels like he’s failed - he wasn’t ready for them. There’s far too many of them, far too many deaths and far too many coffins to be built.
Some of the coffins he builds are nicer, created under a strange sense of calmness. They have round corners and blended seams and small details that make them unique to their future resident. He doesn’t know how to present them to the people he’s built them for. It is too strange to admit to them he’s thought of their death and, just in case, he’s prepared their eternal resting place out of obsession.
Out of the hundreds of coffins he’s built, there is one that stands out as his treasured work - a morbid favorite that he is both proud of and terrified of. It is the one he was most afraid to create. It is made of smooth, polished wood that reflects like a mirror. It is cold to the touch, but has the softest edges and nearly invisible seams. The inside is just as smooth and smells faintly of the great forests surrounding the village; he’s made it a bit larger than it needs to be. He doesn’t want the person to feel crowded, even in the afterlife. He knows they’ve always felt like they’ve been suffocated - by expectation, by ridicule, by rumor, by life itself. Perhaps, if only in death, he could give them the comfort of having enough space to breathe.
Yamato hides this coffin in his apartment beside his. He is afraid of when this one will be called up and used. He is afraid it’ll be before he gets to use his. He is afraid it’ll be long after he’s buried himself. The coffins go together - one rough hewn and splintering, one glossy and refined. He can find no time to be at peace as the days and months and years drag on and the coffins go unused. He knows one day - one day - one day. He dreams maybe not ever; but he hopes maybe they’ll go the same day. The coffins can’t be separated - he’s decided it now - they have to be buried together.
One day Yamato realizes he hasn’t built anything other than coffins - no toys, no benches, no buildings or walls. Just the dark wooden boxes that lie buried underneath the grass in the village cemetery. He thinks it’s a shame he doesn’t get to see the more lovely ones; and he can’t tell if that’s from the perspective of a craftsman, or something darker. But that same day he realizes he hasn’t heard Danzo’s criticizing voice telling him what he’s doing is wrong or foolish or selfish. In fact, Yamato can’t see what Danzo would complain about - he may not be using his Mokuton for a weapon anymore, but he’s still building things that remind him daily of the fleeting lives of those around him, the causalities of war, of death and destruction and all things evil.
And one day, as he’s wiping down the glossy surface of the second coffin shoved into his tiny apartment, he realizes he knows that second voice. The one that encourages him and lets him know that what he is doing is okay; that he can use his powers to create for good. It is a voice he’s heard so many times over the years; a voice that hangs on the air and is ingrained into every mental conversation he replays.
It is Kakashi’s voice.
And Yamato hasn’t realized until now, hasn’t realize this voice that has been taking care of him all these years is the same voice that has given him commands, guided him through missions, talked to him until the early hours as he - as they both - recovered from nightmares. He doesn’t know how he missed it, how he couldn’t tell it was his dear friend, especially since the voice was loudest when he was polishing his treasured piece - his magnum opus - the most elegant coffin - Kakashi’s coffin.
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sage-nebula · 7 years
Note
★ ☆ ☠ ♡ for Jounouchi?
★ Sad Headcanon:
In all honesty, Jounouchi has many, many reasons to be depressed. His dad has been an abusive alcoholic for about as long as Jounouchi can remember, and has been racking up gambling debts for just as long. In childhood his parents fought near constantly, and this only ceased when he was ten and his mother moved out, taking Shizuka with her but leaving Jounouchi behind with his father. After she left, when he was barely eleven (if he was eleven—he might have still been ten) he received a waver so that he could work part-time jobs (a paper route for sure—that’s canon—but I personally believe he has other ones here or there that he keeps on the down-low) so that he could make ends meet, given that his father is both unemployed and, as stated, a gambler. He fell into gang life in middle school, had a toxic / abusive friendship (“friendship”) with Hirutani during this time that followed him to high school, and even in high school it isn’t as if his problems have gone away. Hirutani stops being an issue, but his dad is still an abusive drunk. He’s still the sole breadwinner for their household. Shizuka is going blind and though he manages to win the prize money for her operation (in the manga, he and Atem never dueled; they mutually agreed he would take the prize money while Atem went after Pegasus), it was still hard. He was a sixteen-year-old boy who felt responsible for his little sister’s eyesight. There is a big problem with putting that kind of weight and responsibility on a teenager’s shoulders.
So Jounouchi has many reasons to be depressed, many reasons to angst … but the thing is, Jounouchi hates feeling sadness. And that might seem obvious, because no one likes being sad, but what I mean is that when Jounouchi is depressed, he tends to get angry along with that depression, because he hates the feeling of helplessness that sadness gives him, hates the feeling of weakness that it permeates him with. Jounouchi has felt powerless at many different points in his life. He was powerless as a small child to stop his dad from being an abusive drunk, powerless to stop his mother from abandoning him, powerless in the face of his father’s debts. He has always tried to not be powerless—he used his own body to protect Shizuka whenever their dad lashed out at her, for instance, and has worked part-time jobs to support the household and try to pay his father’s debts—but that doesn’t change the fact that, as a child / adolescent / teenager, he doesn’t have enough power to do very much against things like a massive gambling debt, no matter how much he tries. For him, sadness is attached to that sense of powerlessness; at least if he’s angry, that feels productive, like he can channel that anger into doing something about it. Depression, on the other hand, is despair; it’s spawned from a sense of helplessness and an inability to do anything to change the situation at hand. Crying over his mom abandoning him when he was ten didn’t bring her back. Feeling like he’s a worthless piece of trash (and we know that, in canon, he has felt this way—he straight up says in Death-T that he hated himself at the start of the manga, and we see continuing self-deprecation throughout Duelist Kingdom and the rest of the series that shows us that his self-esteem issues are not gone) didn’t do anything to stop him from being a worthless piece of trash (in his eyes), and that made him angry. Typically, even when Jounouchi falls prey to depression and sadness, there are always flashes of anger and bitterness there. Even in what I consider to be my magnum opus, Whispers in the Dark, while Jounouchi is understandably very depressed throughout the fic, he’s still bitter and angry at his situation (and especially Hirutani) as well. It’s not just that he’s sad and brooding; rather, even when his thoughts are spiraling to dark places, there’s still a lot of anger there to go with it. Loathing for himself, loathing for Hirutani … whatever the case, it’s not just that he’s sad. Rather, the fact that he’s so depressed just spurs his anger even more, because he hates feeling so weak.
So all in all, Jounouchi—particularly in canon—tries to actively fight feelings of sadness. He’d much rather take that sadness and find a reason to be pissed off about it, because to him, anger is more productive and it feels better to be angry than sad. Anger he can at least do something with, in his mind, even though he often ends up turning that anger on himself. Sadness is helplessness and weakness, and he hates feeling that way, and so he avoids it if he can. (Again, sometimes he can’t—and later in life he does have a period of depression when he’s refusing to allow himself to openly return Yuugi’s feelings because he feels like he’s not good enough for Yuugi, and that’s mostly just depression rather than anger—but for the most part, he actively resists being sad because he hates how that feels. If he has to feel a negative emotion, let him be pissed off. He doesn’t just want to be depressed. And yes, things do work out and he ends up allowing himself to openly return Yuugi’s feelings and they’re very happy together, but it’s a whole ordeal because he holds himself back for a long time, despite both Honda and Anzu telling him to go for it. It gets better, but it’s an ordeal at first.)
☆ Happy Headcanon:
Where Jounouchi hates feeling sadness, he loves feeling happy. Again, given his life circumstances, happiness has been hard to come by for quite some time. His home life was nothing cheerful, particularly after his mother took Shizuka away and abandoned him, and middle school—while it had its fun moments—wasn’t a basket of rainbows either. Yes, he met Honda in junior high and the two of them have a positive and good friendship (and hanging out with Honda was definitely among the brighter moments of middle school), but he also did a lot of things in junior high that he is not proud of and his relationship with Hirutani was, as mentioned, toxic. We actually see how miserable Jounouchi is at the very start of the manga, when high school has newly started for him; he scoffs at Yuugi’s idealism, and the idea that Yuugi has a treasure, and later confesses in Death-T that it wasn’t Yuugi that he hated at all, but rather himself. Jounouchi was depressed and angry and filled with self-loathing prior to befriending Yuugi, something not helped (I’m sure) by the fact that he repressed his nerdy interests in an effort to seem manly and fit in. (Because we see how much of a nerd he is in canon, how much he loves games and action figures, but he didn’t openly show this until befriending Yuugi.) But after befriending Yuugi, happiness is a lot easier to come by. Even though his home life and family situation both still suck, spending time with Yuugi allows Jounouchi to freely engage in his passions and interests without fear of judgment, and Yuugi himself is a confidant that Jounouchi trusts heart and soul. He’s at his happiest when the two of them are playing a game together, or watching anime together, or … er, watching “independent adult films” together (and Takahashi confirmed that they do watch porn together, jfc), or whatever else. Being with Yuugi makes it easy for Jounouchi to forget, even temporarily, the dark parts of his life. Jounouchi can fully be himself around Yuugi, and finds hope, inspiration, strength, and courage in Yuugi just as much as Yuugi finds it in him.
That totally not shippy (read: it’s shippy, I’ll own it) bit aside, it’s because Jounouchi has had plenty of times and reasons to not be happy that he actively tries to be happy. Jounouchi doesn’t take things for granted; he knows, perhaps better than some, that happiness is not guaranteed and should be cherished when he has it. He knows that it’s better to be happy than to give into misery, has learned now that hope is something worth having and optimism is not something to scoff at. He knows that there’s strength in joy, in friendship, and love. So even when it comes to little things, even if it’s something small and silly, if it makes him happy he chases it and doesn’t care what others think. He’s learned to have confidence in himself and to just unironically enjoy the things he enjoys. If it makes him happy, it’s good, and that’s that.
So with that said, things that make him happy are: Spending time with his friends (especially Yuugi, as mentioned); spending time with his little sister; playing games (both board and video); watching anime and reading manga; good music (his favorite band is Siam Shade); delicious food (as someone who lives in poverty it’s no wonder he pounces on good food when he can get it); putting together garage kits and models; riding his bike, exercising, or otherwise being active, and other things here or there. He cherishes all of these things and has no problem making that known.
☠ Angry / Violent Headcanon:
Oh boy.
As mentioned, Jounouchi prefers to be angry rather than sad. Anger is productive, anger makes him feel like he has some power or control that he can use to fight back against whatever is making him depressed. Having grown up in an abusive household, Jounouchi shows signs of C-PTSD (complex post-traumatic stress disorder) that are most apparent in his difficulties with emotional regulation. Jounouchi has a quick and hot temper; when he’s aggravated, he’s pissed, and he wastes no time in letting the irritant know it. He also, depending on the circumstances, wastes no time in getting violent over it. He straight up attacks the camera crew before asking questions in Vol. 1, Ch. 2, and as late as the Battle City arc wastes no time in beating the shit out of the two guys who punched Malik back when Jounouchi first met him (and thought Malik was a good guy who had helped Bakura). While in both cases he was being protective over someone (Yuugi in the first, Malik in the second), the fact remains that Jounouchi’s temper was sparked, and immediately ignited into a blaze of fire. Even setting aside acts of violence like that, we see that it’s not hard for him to snap or yell if he gets irritated, that it takes three of his friends to drag him off Kaiba in Duelist Kingdom (okay, that was violent again), that he has a very mercurial temperament and can go from reasonably content to snapping fairly quickly if someone provokes him. When Jounouchi feels things, he feels them very strongly, and this includes things like anger, which for him can spiral into violence due to the fact that he grew up in a household with an abusive father, and these things can embed themselves in a child’s psyche. Jounouchi saw violence and had it normalized growing up, and while he won’t hit girls (he hated when his father would hit his mother, and used his own body to defend Shizuka, and also—thanks to the toxic masculinity his father instilled in him—sees girls as not being as strong, physically, as guys and thus won’t hit or push them), he has absolutely no problems decking a guy in the face. We see this, time and again, in the series. To Jounouchi, violence can easily be a solution to a problem. Maybe there are better ways to handle it—Yuugi certainly thinks so—but punching a bastard in the face is definitely one of Jounouchi’s preferred methods for doing so, because this is what he learned growing up, this is what he internalized, and his temper can spark white-hot when he’s provoked.
(Note: None of this is to say that he has an out of control, violent temper, because he doesn’t. But his mercurial temperament does speak to difficulties with emotional regulation (particularly when he has outbursts, such as when he snapped that he could never trust Kaiba at the start of the Duelist Kingdom arc, and once again shouted at Bakura for even suggesting Kaiba could have some good in him at Pegasus’ castle). Jounouchi would never hit someone he cares about and fuck anyone who even suggests it. So believe me, I’m not saying Jounouchi can’t control his temper or that he would ever hit someone he loves, because he would not. He would never. Don’t get it twisted.)
With all of that said, Jounouchi has in the past used this tendency toward violence as a way of self-destruction and self-harm. Jounouchi hated himself at the start of the series / pre-canon, he routinely got into fights in junior high, and he was in Hirutani’s gang on top of that. We know, based on what we know of Jounouchi’s character and also from what others who knew him back then (Honda and Hirutani, namely) say about him, that Jounouchi picked most, if not all, of the fights he got into back then. Part of this was due to wanting some measure of control and power over his life, some way to feel better about himself and his situation. He’s “the best at fighting,” as he tells Bandit Keith in Duelist Kingdom after knocking him to the floor, and we can tell that this is not a lie, not something he’s making up. Jounouchi earned the right to think that about himself during all the fights he got into in junior high, due to the name he made for himself through those fights, and getting into fights that he could actually win for once did something to (in a twisted way) boost his self-esteem and make himself feel good about something. He might have been worthless trash, but at least this was something he was good at, at least this was something he could do. And even if he was bruised and aching by the time he dragged himself him, the other guys were always in worse shape, and at least these were fights he chose. It wasn’t like when his dad kicked him around. These fights were ones he wanted, ones he won, ones he had control over. These fights and this violence was something that he had power in. It was self-destruction, but it was controlled self-destruction, so he was far more comfortable with it.
And it was self-destruction. As I said, this is Jounouchi’s way of self-harming. Jounouchi doesn’t cut, doesn’t do drugs, and does not drink alcohol (I swear the idea of him drinking is so OoC, considering his father’s alcoholism broke their family apart, has helped drive them into debt, and spurs his abuse toward Jounouchi, so the mere idea that Jounouchi would drink and be anything remotely like his dad is beyond ridiculous), but he does pick fights that leave him bruised and bleeding. He fights, and fights, and fights until he’s so exhausted and hurt he can barely think anymore. The severity of this depends on how bad his circumstances are—it fluctuated in middle school, and doesn’t really happen in high school until the tail end of Whispers—but it’s definitely his self-destruction / self-harm method of choice. He gets himself into fights so that he can work through all the negativity within him through external violence that he both inflicts on others and that they inflict on him.
So to recap: Jounouchi prefers anger over sadness, has a quick and hot temper due to emotional regulation issues, would never hit someone he cares about but has no qualms about laying the smackdown on someone who deserves it (provided they’re male because, again, he won’t hit girls), and purposefully picks fights when he’s in a dark place mentally because that’s how he self-destructs / self-harms (and, in junior high, tried to make himself feel like he had some power and control in his life). That about sums it up.
♡ Romantic Headcanon:
For the longest time, Jounouchi is not much of a romantic, and isn’t interested in serious relationships. Part of this has to do with his parents’ failed marriage; their marriage was toxic for pretty much his entire childhood and ultimately fell apart, and while he knows that not everyone = his parents (and while he certainly is loath to be like either one of them, but especially loath to be anything remotely like his father), that sort of thing still sticks in a child’s psyche. Jounouchi doesn’t have any idealism or optimism toward the idea of romantic relationships, and as such he doesn’t even really entertain the idea of a serious, committed relationship until his early twenties (and even then, it’s just one specific committed relationship that he wants in his early twenties). Before then, in the time post-high school and before his one serious relationship, Jounouchi bounces from casual relationship to casual relationship. He dates around when he can and has fun. Even when some of the girls he dates want him to commit, he doesn’t because he just doesn’t feel that strongly about them (like, they’re hot, and they’re cool, and he likes them a lot, but he’s not in love with them and doesn’t want to commit, and some of them don’t take this very well), and doesn’t want a serious relationship. Casual relationships, without all the deep-seated romantic ties, are where it’s at for him.
This changes when he falls in love with—or rather, when he lets himself realize, accept, and embrace the fact that he has fallen in love with—Yuugi. Yuugi is the first (and only) person Jounouchi ever wants to spend the rest of his life with. While Jounouchi still isn’t fond of stuffy, fancy dates on the regular (and fortunately, neither is Yuugi), for the first time he actually cares about making an effort toward romance, rather than just seeing dates and the like as something he has to get through in order to get to more fun hangouts or make-outs. Christmas Eve is a romantic holiday in Japan (akin to our Valentine’s Day here in the west), and it’s after he and Yuugi enter into a romantic relationship that he actually cares about celebrating it for the first time in his life, and puts real care and effort into planning an awesome trip to Tokyo for himself and Yuugi to celebrate. (Note: They get together when they’re about 23/24, so yeah—early twenties.) Just as Yuugi gave him optimism and hope for life in general back when they became friends, Yuugi also reignites the hope and optimism toward love and romance that Jounouchi didn’t have beforehand. Jounouchi becomes serious about (romantic) love and becomes more romantic because he’s serious about Yuugi. Falling in love with Yuugi, and realizing and accepting those feelings, opened Jounouchi up to that and made him want and actively pursue a deep, serious relationship, rather than just the casual ones he had before.
As a final note on that, Jounouchi is biromantic/bisexual. Growing up he thought of himself as straight, largely due to the toxic masculinity he had instilled in him, but as he grew older, more comfortable with himself, and dropped the toxic masculinity he realized his attraction to men as well. He still has a preference toward women (as Yuugi, despite being panromantic/pansexual, does as well), but he is still bi nonetheless (and again, in a committed relationship with Yuugi, so). It just took him a while to realize that.
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sl-walker · 7 years
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21, 25, 40.
 21. least favorite character to write
Depends on the fandom.  With due South, I can’t say I have a least favorite?  Because I legit love all of them for some reason or another.  Some are harder; I struggle with Kowalski’s voice.  I’m not as good at Bob or Frannie, I can’t write Dewey.  But it’s not a favorite thing, just an Erin-is-their-voice thing. XD
25. favorite line you’ve ever written
Pfft.  Wow, no, it’s impossible to narrow it down to one.  But I do have ones I love, so have some of those.  And they’re really more passages than lines.  And this is not a comprehensive list.
Turnbull stepped closer, shoving down the sick anxiety in his gut. He could summon no satisfaction at Hawthorne taking a small step back. But he dropped his voice to just one note above a whisper, locking gazes with the man: "If you put your hands on him again, I will break every bone in them."
It wasn't an empty threat. He meant every word. - Betrayal, Arch to the Sky
"--here. Since you lost yours saving the Grey."After a moment of staring at it, Scotty carefully took the new penlight. He had reached for his old one countless times since he lost it, and missed it quite a bit when he was trying to work on something in cramped or low-lit places. It had really never left his possession from when it was given to him, to when it slipped from his fingers under the Lady Grey, and despite not really saying anything about it, he had quietly mourned the loss.It was both surprising and not surprising at all that Corry had noticed anyway.He looked it over, not holding onto it too hard for the sake of not marring the new matte black surface with the grease from his hands. Then held it out of his own shadow to read the little letters, etched silver, around the light-end of it."Wolf," he said, and wanted to make a joke about it being puppy, cub or mutt, but he couldn't quite make himself speak much more past the constricted feeling in his chest."In case you find yourself in the dark." Corry managed to keep a fairly steady note. "At least you won't be there alone."  - On the Nature of Wind, Arc of the Wolf
"Abigail Hanson," Corry replied, not looking away from her."Really?" Scotty had to look again. He remembered Corry had once pointed her out as one of Rachel's friends, years ago now, but it had been at a distance. Though, he remembered her looking a lot more fragile then than she looked now. "Followed her father?""Kinda. He was a marine, she's shore patrol. Her Dad still lives here, but...""But ye haven't gotten the nerve up to ask her out?"Corry managed to tear his attention away from Abigail long enough to give his best friend an irritated look. "I'm working on it, I'm working on it!""Right." Scotty got to his feet, and was thoroughly amused at the horrified look Cor gave him. He didn't even make it two steps, though, before Corry had gotten up and dragged him back. "What? I was just gonna ask if she wanted some coffee," he said, innocently, though he didn't put up a fight. That might end with him in a headlock."I'll ask her out, I swear. But gimme a little time, okay?"There was enough sincerity in the exasperated plea. After a few seconds of pretending to think about it, Scotty let Corry off the hook and sat back down. But he still found it kind of funny that Corry watched her all the way until she was out the door again. There was something about the whole thing that felt like hope.And for a moment, he was aware of the before, and the now, and in a way that was almost wonderful, something down the road that was only an impression. But a good one.Maybe even a great one.It didn't last long, but it lasted long enough. - Bookends, Arc of the Wolf
--okay, pretty much the entire story Thunder from the Arc of the Wolf.
Honestly, I could probably quote something from every single story in that because it’s about the closest thing I’ve ever have to a magnum opus.  I’ll be telling it the rest of my life, I think.
"No domestics tonight," Corporal Chase said, leaning against the counter.
Turnbull held his tea close to his chest; the steam curling up off of it felt good on his face, even as it threatened to make his eyes sting again. "That's... good, sir."
Chase nodded, then fell silent for long seconds, looking over the otherwise empty detachment building under the harsh fluorescent lights. Then he looked over, eyebrows up. "Good tea?"
"Yes, sir." Turnbull barely thought to taste it, but it wasn't off-putting. Severn had, indeed, saved him quite a bit of it as well. He was not so sure what to make of that kindness right now. "Thank you for bringing it back."
He could feel that scrutiny when it landed on him again; for the first time in a very long time, he felt like flinching under it. He knew that Chase would not ask. Still, he sometimes wondered -- worried -- just how much the Corporal knew and could see.
He buried himself in a sip of the tea, and prayed that he was not so transparent that the battering he felt was visible. For all of the literal bruises he had worn in his life, none were more humiliating than the invisible ones he was wearing now.
"I'll pick up another box next time I'm down there," Chase finally said, as though he had come to a decision, and then stood up straight, heading for the door. "Stay safe out there tonight, Turnbull." - River, Arch to the Sky
"No, sir. You see, they will repaint my cruiser in that ridiculous rainbow scheme they came up with only after they forcibly, bodily remove me from her frame."
Mike Chase snorted a sip of coffee up his nose, then turned away and almost choked to death on it, and even then he couldn't quit laughing.
Turnbull shot him a startled look, Russ rolled his eyes in long-suffering frustration, and Mike held his free hand up, waving 'no, keep going, this is comedy gold!' - Caprice, Arch to the Sky
Ray was a hustler. He could hide the lump in his throat, hide the ache in his chest, convince people that he was someone that he wasn't.
"I'll miss you," she said to him, the last night he was in Chicago, the last night he was allowed to be home, when it finally became clear that none of them could talk him out of it.
"Here," Ray said, giving her the box. "Don't open it 'til I'm gone, though, okay?"
In the sunlight coming through the windows of the plane the next day, Ray wrapped the memory of his little three-year-old sister holding a marble around a million others, in some place where not even a hustler like him could reach. Somewhere it would be safe. - Hustler, Arch to the Sky
"I am in love with you."
Turnbull said it quite clearly, reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror so that he could see Ray's expression. He didn't even bother to be sly about it. No more of this. This was ridiculous; one way or another, he was risking heartbreak. He might as well risk it with his chin up and his boots on, metaphorically speaking.
Ray's perfect composure didn't crack, so much as bleed a little. A faint hitch in his breath. He steadfastly didn't look up meet that gaze in the mirror. There was something besides blankness in eyes reflecting pale green and gold sunlight, though Turnbull could not quite read what. Perhaps fear. Which spoke for both of them, but damned if he would quit now.
"I cannot give you any precise time when I realized this. I suppose that, in a sense, it crept up on me. I can tell you for certain that it was only a few days ago that I had finally managed to make myself speak the words aloud, though I venture I have felt something for you for longer than I have been willing to admit, even to myself." Turnbull kept his eyes on that mirror. He felt wired to move right now, and it wasn't to run away.
Ray finally spoke, in a rush, "I didn't mean--"
"I realize that." Rarely did Turnbull interrupt someone without remorse. "I realize that you would reiterate what you had said last night: That you expected nothing, nor wanted anything of me. I realize you had not anticipated this. However, I will not allow you to continue blaming yourself for it, as though you had somehow seduced me into falling in love with you."
He definitely had Ray's attention now; those eyes finally caught his in the mirror, and that expression was more definably fear now. It ached, fiercely, right in his chest. Then Ray shook his head, a manic little motion, and looked away. "Ren..."
"No, Ray. Look at me." The words were firm, and Ray did look back up, even though he quite clearly had to fight himself to do it. "I am here because I chose to be. I would be a liar if I said that I didn't struggle against the notion for quite some time, but that wasn't because you were somehow unworthy of that loyalty or love."
Turnbull could see the protest start up, and shook his head to cut it off. He didn't think for a moment that Ray would believe those words, but they needed to be said, and he was determined to finish. "That was my own fear, on any number of levels. You are correct; that is, I don't see you as a time-bomb, someone to pity or someone to watch fall apart at the seams. I see you as someone who hurts, who I love, and to paraphrase what you said to me: I'm not going anywhere." - Any Way Up, Arch to the Sky
Legitimately the entire story Half a Teal Deer in Midnight Blue.  It’s Mike at his comedic, deadpan best.
Catherine Marie Johannsen, Constable in the RCMP, was a proud feminist.She approved of her former FTO's pick in fiancees; Cindy Mason was a tiny thing, but she had a quick grin and sharp eyes. She wasn't the least bit demure. She was established in a career, and Mike was absolutely smitten with her. Cath had gotten an earful of chatter when Mike called her to invite her to his wedding; he couldn't stop talking about her.Naturally, Cath was quick to agree to attend the wedding, but what she was going to wear was a little more difficult.After the introductions were past, after the greeting and the hugging and the restaurant wrangling, they ended up all going to dinner together and that was when Cathy successfully managed to get Mike to snort water up his nose and spend three or four minutes coughing, waving his hands in the air like a teenage cheerleader slap fight with only one participant.How she did it was surprisingly simple: "Hey, did you ever tell Cindy about that time I got into your pants?" - Cherry Red, Midnight Blue
Turnbull looked up at him, wide-eyed. Desperation. Destruction. It was, by far, the most emotionally raw expression Mike had ever seen on Turnbull's face, and it clawed through his own chest.
"I'm sorry," Turnbull said, plaintive and pleading, begging for something only he could ever know through chattering teeth. "I'm sorry."
When Russ showed up, God only knew how long later, Turnbull had sobbed himself half-senseless into Mike's shoulder, and Mike was still holding onto him, shushing and patting on his back and trying desperately to figure out how to pick up the pieces to put them back together, and cutting himself on every one. - Snow, Midnight Blue
He had always threatened, jokingly, that they would get his cruiser when they pried her from his cold, dead fingers. Over his dead body. Them and what army. Because he had gotten 414 new, and with her came one of the warmest, happiest times of his life. He fell in love with Cindy. He fell in love with Nipawin. He built friendships. He hunted and fished and curled and played hockey sometimes, and he planned cookouts and he restored a house. He got his ninth rook. He patrolled afternoons and sometimes days and sometimes midnights; he responded to hundreds and hundreds of calls, rescued people, arrested people, lived eight hours or more a day sitting in this seat, drove thousands upon thousands of kilometers, maintaining the right, for years.
He knew, of course, that it wasn't permanent. But he thought he'd maybe arrange to buy this cruiser when time ran out. Fanciful, idealistic thoughts; he could keep 414 forever. Maybe sans police equipment, but still. He'd thought that before everything happened; could picture Russ goodnaturedly rolling his eyes, and Cindy smiling her knowing, head-shaking smile, and Turnbull would definitely understand. Mitch and Sandy would never stop teasing him about keeping his mistress and his wife on the same property. And he would keep his old cruiser; the Mountie with his favorite steed, even if he had to put her out to pasture.
In the end, he didn't. Didn't have the money, didn't have the strength. It was another goodbye, in a long string of goodbyes, and Mike felt each and every one, with every heartbeat.
When he came into work tomorrow, she would be gone.
No one would ever call for him with bravo four-fourteen again.
Mike put his hands on the bottom of the steering wheel, and the bridge of his nose to the top. There weren't enough tears for the losses; not in him, not even in the rain.
But he gave what he had, anyway. - B414, Midnight Blue
40. which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series
Toss up between Midnight Blue and Arc of the Wolf, both of which would make amazing animated series.  But I totally get to handle the voice casting. XD
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