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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

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modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

#if u wanna be added to my tag list just let me know !!#newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #livesies #toursies #jac writes #jac txt.

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ahhsokka · 3 years

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Star Wars: Light of the Jedi — Review

Reading Dates: 08/16 - 08/18/2021 Word Count for Review: 1880

TL;DR: This is a must-read for the High Republic era. It mostly feels like exposition for follow-up projects instead of its own story, but it is still a good book and an enjoyable read. Main criticism is that we get too much information for one book. Important to note that the Jedi are cool.

INTRODUCTION Welcome to the era of the High Republic, a golden age of peace and prosperity throughout the galaxy. Charles Soule authored this first installation for the project: Light of the Jedi. We follow a brand new cast of characters in the galaxy as they navigate the immediate aftermath of the Great Disaster and the rise of the Nihil, the villains of the High Republic project. In this review, I’ll give a vague and brief summary of the book and then dive into my compliments and criticisms of it.

SUMMARY PART ONE Part One focuses purely on the Great Disaster, beginning with the event that caused it and ending with a last-ditch effort by the Jedi to save the entire Hetzal system. Billions of lives are on the line, and the countdown until impact clock at the beginning of each chapter reminds us how close everyone is to death. Soule introduces us to the main cast of characters that feature not only in this book but also in the whole of the High Republic project. Some of these new faces include Avar Kriss, Loden Greatstorm and his Padawan Bell Zettifar, Nib Assek and her Padawan Burryaga Agaburry, and Chancellor Lina Soh. Brilliant technician Keven Tarr, the Hetzal government, and a fleet of Jedi work together to keep peace on the planet, blow up debris, and save lives. By the end, the overwhelming sentiment is “it could’ve been worse.” Although casualties in the Hetzal system were kept to a minimum, the people of Ab Dalis were not as lucky—twenty million people were killed without a shred of hope for salvation.

PART TWO Finally, we meet “the big bad”—the Nihil. A ragtag group of marauders led by three Tempest Runners and their Eye, Marchion Ro. Throughout Part Two, Soule briefly dives into the history and organization of the Nihil, how they become a powerful group after they first received ‘the paths’ from Ro’s father, and where they are headed from here following their own involvement in the Great Disaster. As Marchion Ro attempts to gain more power within the Nihil, the Jedi and the Republic are working on two main problems: solve the mystery behind the Great Disaster and make sure it never happens again. Towards the end, a third task is added to that list: bring down the Nihil.

PART THREE Now that the Republic knows about the Nihil involvement in the Great Disaster, they focus their attention on snuffing the group out and maintaining peace in the Outer Rim before the opening ceremony of Starlight Beacon. While transporting a flight recorder that is instrumental to learning more about the Great Disaster, a fleet of Republic ships encounters the Nihil. Tempest Runner Kassav Milliko was sent by Marchion Ro to intercept the fleet, but he was vastly underprepared for their numbers. Although he was essentially being sent to battle as a sacrifice, Kassav led his warriors in the dirtiest fight the Republic had ever seen, killing many of their troops. Despite their efforts, his entire Tempest perished. The Republic successfully opens Starlight Beacon, but they do so with the knowledge that a great threat could be waiting around the corner.

COMPLIMENTS I would like to make it very clear that I enjoyed reading this novel. Charles Soule was handed a tall task in opening up an entirely new era. He had to make it compelling enough for readers to stay engaged with the story he was trying to tell while also building up the setting of an unexplored time period. Some planets and concepts will be familiar to fans, but for the most part, the structure of the universe is different from what we’ve known. Although I have some criticism for this book, I believe that Charles Soule and the rest of the Project Luminous team successfully created this new era. I want to know more about the characters and what the universe was like for people at this time. We only know of the galaxy at war; what does it look like at peace?

By far, my favorite part of Light of the Jedi was, of course, the Jedi. The way that the Force is perceived by each individual—as a song, a forest, and an endless ocean—is so beautiful. (Whenever Avar Kriss would mention the song that she hears in her head, I would get chills imagining it.) The bond between Padawan and Master was well done and seems to be a common theme not just for this story but many others in the High Republic project (for example, the High Republic comic by Cavan Scott). Loden Greatstorm and Bell Zettifar are by far one of the most fascinating pairings. Burryaga, a Wookiee Jedi, and his sensitivity to the emotions of others saves the lives of many people and will be a fascinating character to follow in the future (mainly because we so rarely see Force sensitive Wookiees). The High Republic is truly when the Jedi are at their peak; they are the light; there is no other interpretation. (Although I fear that will change as we learn more.)

We are all the Republic. Chancellor Lina Soh is a breath of fresh air from the Clone Wars politics that fans are used to. She clearly loves the Republic and makes decisions which she believes will only benefit its future. It seems that many of the people she works with also hold the same ideals, and I genuinely am excited to learn where it all goes wrong. As horrible as that sounds, only a couple of centuries later, we get Chancellor Palpatine and the Galactic Empire, so clearly something went wrong—what will Lina Soh sacrifice for peace, and how does it go awry?

As for the Nihil: Marchion Ro is honestly terrifying. Soule clearly spent a lot of time developing this storyline to turn the Nihil from being a disorganized group of thieves and murderers to essentially becoming a crime syndicate. Ro almost feels like Maul in his planning skills and adaptability and his cruelty and temper. Obviously, Maul is one of the most beloved Star Wars villains, so I wonder if they used him as a template for Ro. Without their Eye, the Nihil are quite rowdy and kind of dumb, which made them less threatening, in my opinion. They make many mistakes, are selfish, and basically have no impulse control (at least the ones we interact with the most). Initially, that was a criticism, but the rise of Marchion Ro most certainly makes it clear why the Nihil needed to be like this. They aren’t threats until they have a cut-throat, meticulous leader at the helm.

CRITICISMS My biggest criticism is that we know too much as readers. There’s no mystery or puzzle for us to figure out alongside the characters. We understand the story for the most part and have to watch it play out as expected. Although I felt for Captain Hedda Casset and was glad to read her story, I wish that we got it later in the book, or maybe we heard about it through the flight recorder (which didn’t play as big of a role as I expected). The flight recorder acts as a metaphor for most of the book in that way. Something that we’re told is important, but it doesn’t feel that way by the end.

The Great Disaster was horrific, for sure. Billions of people died, and that will be felt for years to come in the galaxy. However, once again, it didn’t feel that way while reading. The Jedi coming in and saving the day and successfully preventing the deaths of an entire planetary system, although an excellent introduction for the Jedi Order, took away from the impact of the event. Even the way it was handled afterward felt clinical and detached. Keven Tarr was the one exception, in my eyes, who conveyed the urgency in solving the situation, but his point of view was unfortunately rare.

This metaphor applies to the Nihil as well. We know so much about them that their intrigue is gone. The most important beats of their recent history with the Eye has already been revealed. The fact that they did start out as a small-time gang who are just now evolving into something greater is exciting, but I personally would’ve liked to see that in a separate story. Peeling away the layers of a villain is much more interesting than getting most of the information immediately. In the grander scheme of the High Republic narrative, the Nihil had the best introduction to explain why they are threats. However, Light of the Jedi as a single story in that narrative suffered as a result. The villain didn’t feel like a villain.

To round it all out, there are a lot of characters. I honestly recommend using some memory trick to remember the names (personally, I grouped or paired them together). One great part of this book is that it doesn’t shy away from death, but at the same time, that made it difficult to get attached to characters. Either I didn’t get to spend enough time with a character and their companions, or I actively didn’t get attached to a character because I didn’t know if they were important enough. As a result, the losses weren’t felt as much. I understood that it was a significant loss, but I didn’t feel it. (Big spoiler) The death of Jora Malli is an example of this, and the only reason I felt anything was because of Master Sskeer’s reaction.

That may be a criticism that only I have, and honestly, it’s pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. Charles Soule did a great job introducing this era. I can still say I enjoyed reading the book, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.

CONCLUSION Ultimately, Light of the Jedi sometimes feels like an exposition-heavy Marvel movie. Not bad at all, just a different story structure. It’s a stepping stone for other stories in the High Republic era. I have already read some other High Republic content and all of it benefited from the information in this book. This is ground zero, an absolute must-read for the High Republic. However, it sometimes is just too much information. I certainly enjoyed learning about this era, and I’m looking forward to reading everything else, some of these stories and characters could’ve been introduced later on, in my opinion.

But hey, I’m not a fiction author, so I definitely don’t know if any of my thoughts or ideas would’ve made a better story. This is honestly a best-case scenario for the first work in this universe. I wasn’t confused while reading, and even though I didn’t get attached to all of the characters, there were indeed some that I immediately latched on to (cough cough looking at you, Bell and Loden). All in all, it’s exciting to have brand new characters in a different period. I love the Skywalker saga—it’s our origin as Star Wars fans—, but this is a massive universe, and it’s good for everyone’s mental health to explore other parts of it.

Rating: [ 7 / 10 ]

Note: Hello! This is my first proper book review. I’m obviously still trying to get the hang of it, so if you have any constructive comments, please drop a note; it’s appreciated. :) I’m trying to fly through all of the current High Republic content so that I’m ready for the new stuff, so expect more reviews, among other things that are in the works. Thanks for reading!

#spoilers light of the jedi #star wars #the high republic #star wars the high republic #light of the jedi #light of the jedi review #book review

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fuckyeahharryhart · 3 years

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PART 2 HARRY HART FAN FICTION Because they better give him a good story for the last Kingsman. In case they don’t, I wrote something myself.

PART 2

FAN FIC

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

MULTI PART SERIES:(My version of Kingsman 3)

Harry Hart x Original Character

Warnings: Reference to violence

Word Count: 5,900

OVERVIEW: After the events of Kingsman, The Golden Circle, Harry, Eggsy and the rest of the survivors rebuild their agency to it’s former level of integrity. A new player arrives unexpectedly, carrying memories of the past that will change the future of Kingsman.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry and Eggsy try to discover who this new players is, how they were at the right place and the right time, and what they know about kingsman. A marksman of that caliber isn't someone to take lightly.

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Bloody hell. Harry's hand was still stinging with heated pain from having his key fob, of all bloody things, shot out of hand. His knee was out of sorts from dropping, face down, to the pavement. Hearing gunshots ring out from, not one, but two different directions did not improve his mood or his state of mind. Continuing to roll as he hit the ground, he switched to his side so he could draw his weapon. But first, he turned toward the direction of the original fire. That was the shooter who caught his interest. A marksman with the precision to shoot a key fob from that distance, within centimetres of his hand without (well without significant) injury was someone not to underestimate. He could make a shot like that. He had plenty of times at the Kingsman shooting range. But that was aiming at a non-moving target in a controlled environment, under the best of circumstances. The only other time he fired a shot that exacting was in Cambodia. While wrestling a certain Agent Whiskey for control of a firearm, he was able to free Eggsy from a lasso looped around his neck by shooting clean through the rope. He assumed landing that shot was 1/4 luck, 1/4 technique and 1/2 his sheer force of will.

Very few marksman possessed the natural talent, training and skill to land that shot. Even less in London proper and he was almost certain that all of those individuals even close to that level, were under Kingsman’s employ.

Under the cover of shadows and partially hidden by a gate column, he spotted the shooter. At the same time, the shooter spotted him and they made split second eye contact. Obviously, the shooter did not want to be witnessed judging from the displeased look that he had noted. But rather than ducking out of view, they kept their stance, provided cover fire until the area was cleared and the threat was gone. And then, without a moments hesitation, the person holstered their weapon and turned abruptly in the opposite direction and began to walk off with long, measured steps. He and Eggsy dusted themselves, gestured to the other, nodded and made off in opposite directions in the attempt to cut the person off at the path. As he smoothed down his suit and adjusted his cuffs, he was quite certain that he was never going to enjoy a peaceful evening again.

——

She didn’t waste valuable seconds checking her phone, grateful that she took the extra time to map her locations in her head. Quickly referring to her orientation, she saw three viable options. Directly in front of her was the Royal Academy. Though it was vast and beautiful and filled with courtyards and eaves, arches, doorways, ideal to drop a tail, it was also closed and quiet. There was no crowd to get lost in. A single person moving in that space would surely be noticed.

She weighed her two other options against each other. Both were about equal in distance. No more than a 10 min walk in either direction. To her right was Mayfair. Situated in the heart of the city, it was one of the most expensive and exclusive areas of London with swanky five-star hotels, shops, restaurants, bars and pubs. Bond Street was sure to be packed with people enjoying the nightlife. Perhaps in another lifetime she could enjoy an evening out in such a place. Not at the moment.

On the plus side, the streets were more random, intersecting at odd places, without the usual grid format. That gave her more exit options. They would less likely follow the same path. Downside, as much as she would enjoy an elegant evening out, she was not appropriately attired. Of course, there would be the usual strong of tourists and visitors that would be similarly inappropriately attired. Even though she would blend in with part of the crowd, she didn’t want to stand out in anyway. Plus, if she needed to tuck into a shop or a restaurant, she wanted to blend with the locals and not the tourists. And she wasn’t going to do that with her nondescript outfit. Or, she would find herself in a situation where someone would ask to take her jacket. She would have to politely refuse because of her shoulder holster and her gun. They would insist. Then it would become an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Awkward and uncomfortable would be hard NOT to notice.

A ten minute walk to her left would drop her in ever trendy Soho. A little louder, a little more rowdy and relaxed, Soho was more happy hour than cocktail hour. The way there would have more traffic, both car and pedestrian, but it was also more direct and brightly lit. More importantly, she would be able to blend with the locals, not just the tourists. Maybe even slip into a pub or bar for the glass of wine she so desperately could use. There would be more viable places to manuever, evade, and find cover. More opportunity to lose a tail. And less likely for a messy confrontation.

Though she didn’t stick around long enough, she was fairly certain that the two men were following her. She kept in mind that they were trained with the same skills and likely had the same natural talent and instincts as she did. Part of her plan was to move slightly against instinct, find the ideal move and then, proceed with something slightly different. But they had to be thinking the same thing.

Shit. The shooters might still be in the area. Depending on whether or not they had backup, if this was an isolated threat on a personal level or if was on an organisational level, she couldn’t be sure that the coast was clear in that direction. When in doubt, take precaution. There were too many unknowns, too many unanswered questions and her preference was to get away without further contact. Since she couldn’t do it clean, she wanted to avoid any additional messiness.

Typical, she thought, making her way through the last of the shoppers and the first of the evening revellers. At the moment she was making progress and feeling more in control of her circumstances, some prick with a gun comes in and has to spray bullets over all the blocks that she spent the last month building. With care and precision, she arranged and rearranged, stacking and re-stacking, until she had created a platform where she could make her move. All her variables were in place. She calculated the possible outcomes and was so close to having a plan. There was some satisfaction, knowing that she had put an equal damper on their scheme, but when success of their plan meant the death of two people, and her plans would only work if those two people were alive, It didn’t leave her much of a choice.

Evasion was as much about mindset as it was movement. She took a mental pause, reset her outlook. Plans only fail if you allowed them to fail. Plans change and hers just did. Focus on clearing out first and then she could regroup and consider her options. If she let her frustrations distract her, she would end up missing details and she had not come this far to make bad decisions. Even in the smallest circumstances, she learned how to turn off emotions, cutting off thoughts and inconvenient emotions. Unfortunately, it was usually the thoughts about the situation she was in, that caused troubling emotions, such as her frustration at the turn of events. But if she walled off those thoughts for the time being, she would be more likely to operate with logic and clarity.

To her advantage, she had a head start, she knew the situation she was dealing with, two known variables on her tail, one unknown threat that could possibly be armed and still in the area. Likely, all three of them knew the area so there was no upper hand in that case. Two would be on foot, probably split to cover more area. It was to her disadvantage that there were two of them, but would be easier to confront them individually if it came to that.

She assumed that they also saw her as a threat. Regardless whether or not her actions had saved their lives, she was still an unknown, an armed and dangerous, one at that. She had to expect hostility, possibly aggression if confronted. It was a situation she would prefer to avoid.

Her steps were light and relaxed. She paced herself neither too fast, nor too slow. Rushing would call attention. She avoided looking around overtly, but she used her periphery to scan the people and places around her. On the plus side, two handsome men in Saville Row bespoke would definitely turn heads. Especially the tall one, who stood inches over the average person. They couldn’t take off their suit coats either. Not with their own weapons and shoulder holsters.

She took a quick left off the main road. A few blocks over and then she could make another turn toward Soho and break up the straight line she was currently traveling. Maybe stop in Central for a quick diversion. Stay on the move. Be aware of her surroundings. Those were her two priorities. Casually checking her 360 along the way by using any reflections she saw, footsteps, noises she heard, neck stretching every few steps to check blind spots. And for a little while, she did just fine.

That is, until she found herself caught in a standing rear choke hold. Fuck.

———

Wherever the hell this person had materialised from, Harry thought, these were not the customs of a novice agent. From weaponry, tactics and evasion, their actions were one hundred percent on point. They should be only a suggestion in the wind by now. The single reason he was able to catch them unaware was because of new Kingsman tech. Just developed, airborne nano GPS trackers. Designed to mark a large group of targets from a distance, they were tiny particles, almost invisible by the naked eye. Programmed to navigate toward the wavelengths of infrared radiation emitted by the human body, specifically at the signature of 12 micron. Best for outdoor use, or in large open spaces, these capsules were broken and released into the air where the prevailing wind would transport the nano GPS transmitters and attach to the nearest known radiation signature. The tracking range could vary depending on the windspeed, air density and how many capsules were released. They were handy to track large crowd movement, not typically used to track a single person. But it was all he had on hand. Since the street was empty at the time, they had a good chance that some GPS attached. Using the process of elimination to rule out unintentional attachments, they could isolated the movement they were looking for. They were looking for someone who moved like a spy.

This person, whoever they were, made all of the decisions that he would have and then added some surprise evasion tactics that he wouldn’t have thought of. They surely would have gotten away if not for the trackers. It wasn’t absolutely necessary that they locate the person. But they were an unknown entity. He wasn’t sure if they were an adversary, an ally, or a neutral player. Neutral players were not known for being experts at tradecraft. That left adversary or ally. With the events of the past two years and the most recent destruction of Kingsman by the Golden Circle, unanswered questions usually returned on their own, carrying an unfavourable answer. Granted, the person saved their lives, but they already knew too much of Kingsman. Knew of threats of which Kingsman was not aware. So when chance invited him to make a move, to quietly sneak behind the person at the last second, he took it.

——

This is not why I spent four weeks planning, she fumed silently. Her mood was grim. Of course it would be at this exact moment that she registered the slightest contact from behind, like a passing breeze brushing against her. But she knew displaced air when she felt it. Based on her position, facing forward, added to the position he was in, directly behind her, also facing forward, that would have to equal a rear standing choke hold. Instantly, she countered, dropping her chin to her chest like it belonged there, denying him the chance to press his forearm against the front of her neck. A chokehold had two purposes, either to crush the windpipe, resulting in death. Not the outcome she was looking for. Or, to cut off blood to the brain via the carotid artery, leaving her unconscious. Which wasn’t much of a consolation prize. Either way, she had just about 12 seconds to act. Since both options were less than desirable, she shielded her throat as best she could and waited for the window were she could counter like a small, but fierce animal.

The strength of his grip said that he wasn’t going for either option, but told her he using the hold as a restraint. So, she had that going for her, she thought darkly. Yet, he still had the capacity to follow through on either option. There was no give to his grip. Twisting out of the hold was not an option without more leeway. Not one to be held in a vulnerable position, her goal was to escape. Several ways presented themselves, few of which incorporated an unrestrained elbow or kick to the groin. Her aim was not to incapacitate, regardless of how satisfying that may be, but to extricate herself.

Based on sheer size and strength, she was highly disadvantaged. But, as a woman in the field, only relying on your strength, you’d get beaten every time. Women didn’t have to fight harder. They had to fight smarter. Not only did she have to use her size and weight to her advantage, she had to use his size and strength against him. With the obvious discrepancy in height, not that she was short. Five foot nine made her taller than average, but at 6’ 2”, he was also taller than average. Her best option? Leverage. Literally. Use him as lever. It was the move where he would be at a disadvantage and she would have the clear advantage. There was some consolation to be found, knowing they were also expert spies, but not enough to spare herself the embarrassment of being caught. Summoning her nerve, one deep inhalation, she thought, and she would be ready.

He smells nice.

The thought landed without warning. It didn’t merely land. It hit her. It hit her hard and with feeling. Her concentration stuttered. It was the scent of wood, leather, spices and a hint of something warm, rich and slightly sweet, like a velvety dark chocolate. And then there was a breath of something unexpected. A note she couldn’t identify. It was him, she realised. That was his smell. It was a good smell. A masculine smell. She was suddenly aware of his wool suit against her chin. She noticed the pinstripes against a navy as dark as the sky. The crisp white of his French shirt cuffs and the gold of his cufflinks that held them in place.

Her senses were wide open. They always were on hyperdrive when she was out in the field. That was expected. She relied on them to send her signs that she didn’t have the time to look for. But now, they were receiving all the wrong signals and sending all the wrong messages. Intensely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shadow of his hand. His large, wide palm was warm on the back of her neck. By pressing her neck forward and down, it was this hand that locked the chokehold in place.

What the hell? she thought. She felt the strength of his forearms underneath her own palms. Her hands were gripping him so tightly she could feel the cords of muscle through his sleeve. Suddenly, her body became all too aware of his own. The sensation of him, the entire length of his body against hers, awakened her own. He wasn’t just standing behind her, he was bearing the whole of his body into hers. Thus, she was counter balancing with equal force. Generating heat and pressure between them. Realising how close, how intimate, how physical, literally, their contact was at that moment, overwhelmed her reason, her logic, her objectivity. And most of all, she was aware of the man behind her. Not as a target, or a mark, or a tail or a problem to be solved. It was him. It was Harry Hart.

He must have sensed a slight shift in her energy because once that random, startling thought struck home, she didn’t dare move until she knew where it was heading and what she was going to do with it. She probably stopped breathing. Maybe that’s what he noticed because all of a sudden she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Maybe he was holding her a little tighter than she thought. He must have noticed a change because just as suddenly, his grip loosed by a fraction, not enough to escape, but enough to jar her back to the present. He was confusing her and she was angry at being confused.

She was on pause and someone had just hit the reset button. Instantly, she made her next move and she went into action fully committed. There was no hesitation in a move like this. To her advantage, their height difference meant that he had to lean down slightly to get his forearm around her neck, which shifted his center of gravity slightly forward. With his tight grip, she pushed against it, creating the energy of opposing forces to gain momentum. With her neck guarded by her chin, she quickly dropped down to one knee, gripped tightly onto his wrists and forearms, leaned back into him to get the tiniest bit of additional momentum, and then bent forward as sharply as she could from her waist, throwing the full force of her weight into the move and tucking in as tight as possible. Sure enough, with his weight already off center, using her body as a fulcrum, a pivot point, and using his height as a lever, she forced him to tumble over her head.

Normally, after a move such as this, that put her at a tactically advantageous position, she would either evade or go in for an attack move and neutralise the threat. This was not the way she wanted to introduce herself to these two men, but it looked like fate wasn’t giving her any options. She was not prepared for this situation. She didn’t have claim over the next move. It could be either of theirs. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she cursed herself for not having a hair tie, of all things. She paused for a moment. Her cap got knocked off during her manoeuvre. Wonderful, all these identifiers, now facial features, and the damn hair. She should handover her passport and smartphone and just get it over with. How did this evening turn so sideways?

She took a mental pause. Footsteps. His colleague. Who didn’t know what he was walking into. She quite certain it did not look like afternoon tea.

When she heard the brushing noise of a weapon being pulled out of its holster she went back on high alert. They had most definitely past the “direct contact” portion of the evening. As much as she did not want to do them harm, she was more than willing to talk, she equally, did not want to be on the interrogation end of a gun. She had another split second to decide her course of action. Two was much more complicated.

All three of them knew the rules of weaponry in the field and in engagement. Never pull a gun in a circumstance you’re not willing to use it. Never aim at a target you’re not willing to shoot. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but when she had a lethal weapon aimed in her direction, it left her with few options.

She never had an opportunity to use it before, but it was ideal for this circumstance and what she had planned. She palmed her carbonfiber graphene tactical knife, short, less than 5”in length, from its discreet sleeve at her hip. It’s description stated, “A device for specific close quarters combat manoeuvres in very focused special circumstance scenarios with high impact.” This circumstance would fall under that category, she thought.

The upper hand was all she needed to gain, to have a moment where they would be forced to listen to her. Grace, eloquence… She tossed those out the proverbial window. Her words would have the hardest strike. The most impact. Not her knife, not her gun, not any weapon. Now was not the time for finesse. Once again, she had to turn shitty odds in her favours before the man she just flipped could reorient himself. She wanted to be sorry that it had come to this, but she was just making her counter move. It didn’t matter if it was personal or not. This part, at least for her, was the business aspect of her work. Similar to negotiating a deal, but using weapons and lives as bargaining points.

The knife firmly in her grip, she raised the blade and held its lethal edge against his carotid artery with enough pressure to be VERY uncomfortable, and almost, but not break skin. He was smart and followed the direction guided by pressure of her blade hand and rose with her to a standing position. She stood behind him, angled slightly toward one side. He knew that any counter move on his part, which there were many he could take, and in this case his strength and mass would be at his advantage. She was in a very vulnerable physical position and he could take her down easily. If it weren’t for the knife at the side of his neck. The blade was very small, very light and most of all, it was very, very sharp and designed for close, personal combat. Easy to handle, low pressure point. Which meant, whether or not his move disabled her he would, no doubt, be pulling away with nothing less than a very serious neck wound.

“Stop.” she called out firmly. “Gun down on the ground.”

The man who was under her knife, indicated, Do what she says.

He placed his gun on the ground and stood with his hands in the air.

She knew he was weighing his options, just as she did her own.

Her voice was clear and just loud enough so he could hear her where he stood.

Seriously, like this was what she needed. Did they really have to go through all this fuss? Spies could be exhausting.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

She kept her voice conversational. Of no consequence or concern and certainly not threatening.

“Do you have enough time to disarm me and get help for your friend, Harry, before he bleeds out?”

She felt the slightest flinch when he heard the sound of his name. Not Arthur or Galahad. His given name.

“You’re quite fast, Eggsy, but not that fast.”

Now Eggsy’s turn as his eyes narrowed both suspicious and surprised. Not Galahad. Not even Gary, but Eggsy.

Ok, making progress, she thought. She had just shown her first card. She knew exactly who they were. Not just their code names. Their real ones.

To drive her point home. “Just the tiniest amount of pressure on his carotid artery, thats all I need. 68 seconds until he loses consciousness. My knife, which you probably can’t see from where you are standing, but he can certainly feel,” she nodded her head toward Harry, “is designed to pierce fast and deep. If I had a regular blade, he might come out clean, but not with this one. Please, sincerely, think twice, for his sake, about making any sudden movements.”

Good. Neither of them made an attempt to move. Not even a twinge. She continued. She didn’t know how long the odds would be in her favour. At this point, she was playing fast and loose. Something she rarely did and she was not used to. One of her biggest strengths was her ability to prepare. This was not a scenario that she had imagined.

“I know either of you could disable me, but not without me doing a fair amount of damage first.”

It wouldn’t be her first choice to do harm, but she was in no mood for additional fuckery and she wanted to make it abundantly clear that, though she was no match for them in terms of brute strength, she had plenty of ways to dominate a fight using strategy. She wasn’t stronger, but she could be smarter. She wasn’t above shedding blood to prove that she was not to be underestimated.

“I didn’t start this fight, but I’m more than happy to finish it.”

She added, “You see how well trained I am. You should be asking yourself why i haven’t killed him, or either of you, already.”

Did they really have to be so obstinate? Obstreperous. Truculent? They should have been asking themselves that question after she took the first shot. They could very easily be dead right now if it were not for her. She needed to prove to them she was not a threat to their lives. Against all of her training, she laid her second card down.

“And ask yourself,” she repeated. “perhaps why, then, I would let him go.”

Very carefully, very slowly, and very deliberately, she softened the pressure against his neck until the blade was no longer making contact. She continued to draw it far away from him, far enough to clear so not to do any damage, before she began to lower it. She took a few steps back, hands up, the knife still visible in her right, but with a carry hold, not an active grip.

Imagine her surprise when Harry turned on her, twisted her wrist until she had to drop the knife. Not without force. She resisted the split second she saw what was happening. She knew in this case, she didn’t have an immediate out, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him. Rather than conserving her energy, she fought him and fought him with force, until she saw his face grimace with the effort.

Good, she thought.

She made some pretty satisfying contact before he was able to push her all the way back against the red brick warehouse. The wall gave her less room to maneuver. She landed one last, very satisfying kick to his shin. It wasn’t a fancy move. There was no technique involved. She just put all her grit behind that single kick and the connection she made was very gratifying, despite her situation. She hoped it left huge bruise to remember her by. It was obviously painful and hurt him enough that he shoved her away fairly hard. The back of her head knocked into the bricks with a force that she wouldn’t have considered gentlemanly.

Well, she did have a knife to his carotid just a few moments ago, she countered. She supposed turn about was fair play. This time, he was able to get his forearm across her throat and braced his right wrist with the circle of his left hand. Standing arm bar hold. She had no counter this time, seeing since Eggsy had his gun again and it being much harder to escape a bullet than a choke hold. So, that move did not have the impact that she thought it would.

She knew they had to have this conversation, but she was pissed. At them, but she admitted, begrudgingly, that she was mostly pissed at herself for letting her guard down. To be fair, they really had no idea who she was. And until they did, she would remain a threat. But she still had one more card. She was just waiting for the chance to use it.

——

What the bloody fuck had just happened? Harry Hart was not one to get caught off guard. But he was miffed that it happened this evening. Not only once, but three bloody times, and he had just quite enough of whatever fuckery was happening around him. First, the key fob, then the chokehold, then the bloody knife. Well, my dear, he thought, two can play this game. He wasn’t above fighting dirty. Sometimes the situation insisted on it. It seemed as if this was one of those times.

As soon as she let down her guard sufficiently enough for him to act, he twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the knife. But she wasn’t making things easier for him, or for herself, for that matter. Even though he clearly had the upper hand, she fought him the entire time. She, too, apparently wasn’t above a little dirty dealing when she landed a kick to his shin. A very hard, directed kick, not meant to disable, not in an attempt to escape, a kick just purely meant to cause him pain. A bit more than cheeky. He finally pushed her, maybe just a tad harder than he anticipated, until her head knocked back and hit the warehouse wall behind her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eggsy had taken the opportunity to retrieve his gun and provide cover. Her eyes quickly darted in the same direction, confirmed the same thing that he saw and then stared at him furiously. Whether the fury was directed toward him or to her change in circumstance, most likely both, he could not be certain.

Making sure his arm bar would prevent any further roughhousing, Harry spoke, adopting almost the same conversational tone as she had. She wasn’t sure if he was matching her tone to respect her or mock her. This time she felt free to show as much aggression as she felt like. There was no consequence at this point. She tossed her damn hair out of her face.

——

As she flipped her hair to the side, Harry, by instinct, began to document her features so, if needed, he could provide a detailed description of her should it ever become necessary. Tall, 5’ 8 1/2 - 9. Slim build, but athletic, lean muscular rather than simply thin. Age was hard to determine, she looked both very young, but her eyes, they were both wise and melancholy. A look that only came with time and experience. Her eyes seemed to say that they had already seen too much. She was anywhere from mid twenties to mid thirties. He noticed that her eyes were grey. Grey, and they had a slight almond shape to them. Tilted just enough to give her an air of mystery. Dark lashes, dark hair and much of it. Long. Wavy. It was shiny and looked very soft. Dusky fair skin with just an undertone of warm olive. Cheeks pink, with displeasure, he thought, or embarrassment, certainly not because she was flattered by the attention. Her mouth was small and delicate, her lips pressed together in a firm line. Also pink. She was quite becoming. Beautiful even. He tried to determine her ethnicity, but found himself unable to place her exotic, yet subtle, delicate features.

Harry caught himself. He wasn’t just documenting her features. It wasn’t bloody like him.These were not the most appropriate thoughts for the moment.

She noticed him noticing her. She didn’t know what he was noticing, so she grew even more frustrated. She obviously didn’t care about keeping her expressions to herself any longer. It was quite loud and clear what she was thinking. It was written all over her face.

He came back to his words. In his calm, deep voice, he asked her three simple questions.

“Who are you? Who do you work for, and why did you shoot at us?”

A firm set to her jaw and with equal composure, she answered his questions without hesitation, but in her own order.

“I” she emphasised, “didn’t shoot at you.” she added under her breath, “I was aiming for your key fob.”

“I work for no one.” She halted, her eyes pulling their full attention to hers.

She laid down her last card.

“My name is Gwendolyn Mycroft.” she took a meaningful pause. “My father saved your lives.”

Glancing between the two of them, she saw that, as she intended, she had hit home. She added.

‘So, I suggest you release me, and let us go to a place where we can discuss this in a more civilised manner.”

She saw that both of the men were in a state of shock. She could understand. The evening hadn’t gone the way she expected either. She waited for a response that was something other than a blank stare.

“Do you like scotch?” Eggsy asked.

Well, that was a good of a start as any.

-----

If you made it this far, Thanks for reading!! Comments, questions, likes are always appreciated. Always feel free to reblog.

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ddp456 · 3 years

Text

My retirement

Hey, all.

Boy, um, I’m sure that title is kind of a shocker, so I’ll do my best to explain myself. And stop me if you’ve heard this story before (or should I say, these stories before).

I created a surplus of materials and examples to go by when making a Gravity Falls/Wendy and Dipper story in the same fashion that I do. But in my heart of hearts, I can tell you all that the souls of these stories, the thing that everyone seems to tell me makes them so real, are based upon three real people.

I grew up a lot like Dipper did. I was a smart kid, but not that smart. I was the one everyone pointed at as a freak. The weirdo of the class. The smelly kid. I had friends; not a lot of them, but in most cases, time and distance separated us, or I drove them away of my own accord. I won’t excuse it by saying I was different; a lot of my pain I caused myself. I would be lying if I said I had proper guidance as well. I couldn’t tell you how many regrets I have.

But as I got older, I met someone special; someone different. They didn’t treat me the same as everyone else. I couldn’t tell you if it was out of pity, or perhaps, they were able to see something that other people couldn’t. And I appreciated it. To be honest, I loved them for that.

“Love,” I know, is a really strong word. It’s probably the most overused and misused word presented by most of civilization, and the majority of mass media. To me, love means to cherish, to want to protect, to wish no harm upon, and if possible, take the blunt of any blow wishing to do so.

I like a lot of people. I love a whole lot less, if that makes sense.

Even as I write this, I do not claim for this to be the correct way of looking at things; I can only tell you the way I saw things at the time.

Such is why I chose to hide my true feelings for the longest time. For all of the healing and solace this person gave to me, the very last thing I wanted for them was to be the monster’s mate. Unfortunately, my private life wasn’t too much better. It was like there was no safe haven I could provide.

Above all things, I didn’t want them to hate me for that.

Then, as always, fate played its hand. The good spark in my life was whisked away and I was forced to deal the rest of the world. But after the lot of a new series of battles and worries, something amazing happened. That little spark was reintroduced into my life.

But I was still afraid; afraid of the new monsters that would use this person to try to hurt me; afraid of a home life that wouldn’t accept them with open arms. I wanted to get closer so very much, but kept them at a safe distance.

That is, until fate struck again.

Pinned up against the wall, at the very last moment I’d believed I’d have with said person, I confessed everything.

Kinda makes you think of a certain two dorks locked in an underground bunker, doesn’t it?

They say with age, comes wisdom, and upon looking back, I understand my youthful folly. I shouldn’t have lied everything at their feet and expect a positive response. They were shocked by my admission, as they had their own feelings and hopes and dreams and heart’s desires.

I believed, because of my fear, I was too late. If I were honest from the beginning, maybe, it might have made a difference.

Despite of the distance and my own hardships, I tried my best to stay in touch with my friend. A lot of times, it was for the better. And a ton of times, it made things a jillion times worse. And I’ll admit; it was my fault. I let my own loneliness get the best of me. The very last thing I ever wanted to do was to creep someone out. Maybe that’s why it bugs me so much when someone jokingly says that about poor Dipper.

In the future, I would apologize for reaching out, only to have a welcome hand on my shoulder in return. “I’m really glad you did.”

As time passed, we did grow closer; not always in the ways I hoped, but I’d be fibbing if I said I didn’t enjoy it. We were constant valentines. They were my first real date; my first real kiss. I’d have calls waiting for me instead of me doing the chasing. For the first time in a very long time, I thought things were getting better.

But once again, fate would have its way...

Even after all these years, I question: how is it that upon telling a loved one that you must part ways (again), they become so upset that they strike you and demand why things are the way they are, if they do not care?

(For the record, kids. You should NEVER let a S.O. hit you no matter what. After all, don’t want to leave a bad example on the way out)

Part of me will always wonder if this is what made things sour between us; that eventually, I became another person that would always let them down, regardless if it were my fault or not.

Little did I know that behind their mild exterior, lived a wild heart that craved adventure and excitement. A group of rowdy and unpredictable friends were more than eager to help scratch that itch. I would be told incredible tales of mischief and wonder and mayhem. And if I were honest, I would say part of me was jealous. I wished it was just us having the adventures. I wish we could have spend the day together at an arcade. Or a carnival.

I’ll say something else I never admitted before. This person has told me countless times in our lives that I was their hero. The truth is that there were several times in my life were I considered them my hero. They were brave and independent and smart-on-their-feet and pretty much everything I wasn’t but wanted to be.

And beneath all that, there was a person who was embarrassed to be sensitive and “weak” and wanted to cry. At that time, I cherished that person more than anything in this world.

Then, I heard about the other stories: the “close-calls.” And that led me to believe that there would come a time where my loved one would go off on one of these wild adventures and never come back.

I wasn’t too far off. I’ll spare you all the rest of the details.

As I said earlier, I like a lot of people, but I love even fewer. So, it was a really long time before I could feel the same way about someone as I did before. In the middle of all of this, I accidentally stumbled upon a show on cable called Gravity Falls, and found a kindred spirit with the male lead, Dipper Pines.

Even more so, I saw parallel lines between my personal plight and that involving Dipper and his crush, Wendy. And while Wendy shares the same adventurous appetite as my loved one, that’s pretty much where their similarities end.

And poor Dipper, man. Oh, the internet was just brutal to that kid. “Robbie is the victim?” Get outta here with that garbage. It was the same crap I’ve heard half my life.

As I explored the GF fandom, I noticed a lot of the best Wendy/Dipper works came from fanfiction. (Thanks google!) And I found my inspiration for stories of my own. I was able to relate my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my doubts; bits and pieces of my real life, even if they are grossly exaggerated. (so, no fighting ghosts, haunted mansions, or cursed arcades for me, I’m afraid)

To my surprise, the first batch of stories received a ton of feedback. Lots of people cheered my interpretation of Wendy and Dipper, and what I hoped they’d evolve into. (I’d give myself a 70% on that estimate)

Did all of these viewers, reviewers, and rebloggers share the same view of the world; about love as I did?

About two years in, little did I know I would get another surprise. I would get a Dipper of my very own.

I wasn’t looking for love. Honest. But upon new experiences and meeting new people, I discovered someone - a special speck of wonder - that became enamored with me. I didn’t notice it at first. I still find it odd that someone can look or think of me in such a way.

But I remember what happened the last time I hesitated. I always said that in the slim chance I would ever get a second chance, I wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice.

I kept my word and enjoyed the best years of my life.

I made up a lot of lost time with an adorable hipster with a similar spirit to Wendy. An old soul, they loved retro culture as a whole: the movies, the music, even the video games. Their literary tastes were also very similar to mine. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a conversation with someone about books outside of a school setting.

But at the same time, you could see Dipper’s innocence there as well. A tough attitude hid a fragile heart. A hidden brilliance was often overshadowed by a lack of courage and self-esteem.

It was around this time that I noticed new comments on my latest stories. People were saying that I was (inadvertently) writing a stronger and more detailed Wendy. At first, I didn’t understand what they meant. Then, after thinking about it, I finally got what others were noticing.

My Wendy had changed because I had changed. Somehow, I gained a deeper insight on her character and the way she would view certain aspects of her life, I was now a Wendy myself, with a little Dipper that thought the world of me, and for this, I tried my best to make sure they would never feel the growing pains that Dipper (or a younger me, for that matter) would usually face alone. I was their cheering section, their coach, their backup, and I encorporated all of these things into our favorite redhead.

I found it funny that the show would (periodically) use that same angle. I only wish they would have done it as much as I did.

But as with all great things in my life, I royally screwed everything up. And during a time of distress and turmoil, my little Dipper found something better and hitched their wagon elsewhere.

So, by now, you have to be asking, “Why are you telling us bits and pieces of your life?” I do this because I want people to understand why I can’t do this anymore.

Don’t get me wrong. I love writing the stories. I also love the fact that there’s so many people that look forward to each tale, as if it was made by the real Gravity Falls team. To me, that’s a great honor that very little can ever replace.

But at the same time, the series (and especially Wendy and Dipper) is so close to my heart, and in some cases, so indistinguishable from certain aspects of my personal life that it actually hurts. For the record, I haven’t sat down and watched an episode of Gravity Falls since the Blu Ray box set came out, in which I listened to the commentary for a project for Wendip-Week.

Maybe it’s because I know what happens to Dipper and Wendy at the end of the series. Maybe it’s because their fate reminds me so much of my own. It’s a “Chicken or the Egg” question for sure.

This is why DBR3 and Serendipity took so long to finish. At times, I had to force myself on the computer to write 1,000 words at a time. It takes me months to do what I used to do in mere days or at most, a week. I don’t have the strength or the enthusiasm to do it at the same pace. And you all deserve better than that.

I need a break, guys and gals. I need to clear my mind and find out what’s going on inside here. For the first time in years, I have accomplished all of my Gravity Falls related goals. Just to go down the line:

-Published a new chapter every weekday for a month straight in honor of the GF Season 2 Premiere.

-Created a few GF stories based in the first-person perspective. One of them is one of my most popular stories.

-Delivered a DBR2 and DBR3 due to high demand.

-Shaped a two-part Wendy/Dipper story based in the same nature and context of the classic graphic novel, Scott Pilgrim.

-Wrote several extensions to Gravity Falls episodes that I had uneasy feelings about.

-Helped a fellow Tumblr user create a Wendy/Dipper themed full sized Christmas poem in less than 24 hours.

-Tried my hand at a Wendy and Mabel story just to try something different and to see if I could do it.

-Wrote and outlined a 50-page Gravity Falls comic after 3+ years of trying to get it off the ground.

That’s not really a bad resume, not counting all the contributor’s work I’ve done for other Wendip artists/writers or the essays, guides, and projects I helped Wendip-Week design. Even if I still had the energy to keep going, what unexplored territory is there for me to explore?

So what does this mean?

Well, that’s up to you lot, isn’t it?

I would love it if the same fans that enjoyed my stories took up the reigns and show us in the Wendip/GF communities what they could do. Lead the way with new Wendy and Dipper tales! Make it about the past, present, or future! Give us a new way to look at them, or present them in an undiscovered light.

And it doesn’t have to be writing, either. Make a comic. Draw a picture. Heck, do a radio broadcast for all I care. Express your minds, hearts, and soul and create with them just as I have.

(and as a side note; I hope my Deviantart friends take this to heart. The last time I was on the site, the cute/adorable pic/X-rated pic ratio was greatly, greatly one-sided in a bad way)

A lot of people might be asking, “Well, you’re calling it quits. Why shouldn’t we?”

Because if you believe in the messages I put into the stories or the effort we put into Wendip-Week, then aren’t those messages worth spreading? Just because my personal life went to crap in a handbasket, it doesn’t mean the same would happen to anyone else.

A harsh lesson I learned with age is that you can do everything perfectly, or to the best of your abilities, and still fail. The Gravity Falls team loved to instill this over Dipper time and time again.

I want to believe in something better. Don’t you?

And who says I’m gone for good? Maybe I’ll find a new form of inspiration and come up with an unique idea that I just can’t keep to myself, Perhaps Gravity Falls will come back in some form and ignite enough of a fire in me to pull a comeback.

But, until then, I plan on taking a long, well-deserved break. After all, I have a ton of missed Wendip Week submissions to catch up on. I promised myself I wouldn’t check them out until my final story is completed. It looks like that day is finally here.

However, it is the holiday season, and for this, I wish to leave you all with three different sources of inspiration. Maybe it’ll help; maybe it won’t.

1. An inspirational letter from none other than my namesake.

2. A key word of advice from one of the only series that could stand up to Gravity Falls’ legacy. It is a message I wish I could have learned sooner.

3. And simply because we NEED more sources of strong females (and something I wish I would have found in time for the Spider-Man essay), here is a tumblr blog dedicated to my favorite Marvel female, who IMHO is as close to an adult Wendy as we’ll get,

I wish you all a happy holiday, and hope that my announcement hasn’t dashed your holiday spirit. I am forever honored by all those I have worked with and by those who took my nonsensical musings and elevated them to something more.

As one of my favorite bands like to close their shows with:

“It's never goodbye, It's just 'till next time."

-ddp456

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Nicole’s rambling: The Watch Dogs Problem

Hey, welcome to my TedX talk about one of the most ambitious games Ubisoft had ever released... And which, for most of the parts, flopped majestically - yet still has players who love it. One such player am I as well. (And I’m not coming back to the game because Raymond Kenney is my first VG crush, shut the hell up.)

I won't be dipping into the side activities (digital trips) and online mode, because I never clicked with it and I don't know much about these parts. And I don't wanna throw shit at the game because of something I don't know a single thing about. Here are my three biggest negatives in the game and the three biggest positives you should play it for.

Also: remember, this is my opinion and my opinion only. It's sure biased, non-professional, but I've played WD more than five times. FIVE. So it's not just blatant nitpicking, because, in its core, WD Is a game I love dearly.

@march-moon, here you go! :)

Let’s sort out the negatives first so we can later praise the game for what it did well:

1. Predictable and dull AI of enemies (aka going John Wick mode).

Sure, the variety of said enemies is impressive, but... When you get a grenade launcher and some good shotgun, which you can do in the first hour of gameplay if you already know your way with the ctOS bank account system (LOOP IS WHERE THE MONEY'S AT), you're more or less untouchable for the rest of the game. Most conveniently, you're starting with a silenced gun and when you know around your way with the stealth system and focus, which slows time big time for those who might not know, you can clear out Rossi Fremont under two minutes. Why? Because the AI is just dumb and stupid most of the time.

Like, sure, the big-armed guys can be a pain in the ass for the first few encounters, but when you realize all you have to do is throw two grenades at them and fire as many bullets as you have at your disposal, they are dead immediately. And the same goes for the car chases. Until you unlock the almighty power of raising the bridges and blowing up the steampipes, these are just pain in the ass.

The first few ctOS scans and police chases, as well as the enemy chases, are fun. But when ctOS finds you after ten minutes of driving around like a mad man to dodge the shit, sending you off on a ten-minutes lasting chase which simply repeats itself. Let alone that you kill half of the city's population because you fuck up to turn your car.

To close this point, it gets repetitive, especially with the gang hideouts fuckery.

2. Ubisoft lying not only about the game features, but also about the overall graphics.

This point kinda explains itself, doesn't it? It's a known fact that studios have tendencies to change their games/movies for marketing purposes - for example, Disney and Infinity War or Naughty Dog's 'The Last of Us (Part 2)'. But this being a usual marketing tactic doesn't mean that the consumer should keep their mouth shut when they don't agree with it.

Most noticeable Watch Dogs' fuck-up was an overall graphic downgrade, which, sure, is completely understandable when you have such a huge open-world game, but... Ubisoft showed you a potato mash and all you got was the potato (The biggest point that is made fun of are the trees - those who played the games know what I'm talking about.).

Also, the enhanced graphics ARE coded in the game, but are not used due to something signed off as ‘playable compatibility’ as far as I can understand, so??

But... They did lie about the in-game features too. They promised a lot more than they delivered, like the bounty hunts and stuff... Where did that go, Ubisoft?

3. The side missions and the story.

Don't take it as such... In my opinion, some of the side missions are fun - at the start. We've talked about gang hideouts, but you have fixer-car-related gigs as well and the first ten of them is very immersive since you don't already know which type of the mission you're up to. Will you be pressured by the time limit? Will you have to race through the city in a car that you can't destroy too much, otherwise it can't be sold on the black market? Will you be a decoy for some other bad people doing bad things? But when you get through this phase... It's the same game system again and again, for 46 times, I think? And the villain convoys... Well. These are fun and refreshing each time, I have to say.

Every time, you can choose a different tactic to toy around with - will you catch up with the baddies sooner, turning this mission into an intense, tight chase experience? Or will you wait for them further on the road, toying around with explosives and guns? Sometimes, they slip past you, which leads to a chase around the city, sometimes you blow up all of the cars perfectly on time, A+. But... You mastered 1/3 types of side mission content.

As for the story, it's not the worst, but it isn't something super-memorable, lifechanging. I am not talking about the idea behind the story (the utopia of having the whole city lead by a system, which enables the corporation to control people's lives without them even knowing), I am talking about the Damien-Aiden-Lena revenge story. It's your daily revenge plot based on Aiden's niece dying in a car crashed after the car being shot at because of a failed job.

The first story mission is mind-blowing. You're thrown into the game and the first thing you have to do is to infiltrate a whole-ass stadium, which feels good, not gonna lie. And the 'prison-break sequence' is also memorable as well. But other than that, it gets real repetitive real fast. 'Follow this person', 'hack this thingy', 'kill this guy', 'tilly that person' and so on is present in every act of the story, which makes things kinda come across as boring after some time. It is what it is.

There are exciting in-game moments, like when Defalt is introduced to the bunch and hacks into the Bunker base, stealing all of your data. But sadly, these story masterpieces tend to be overlooked and not acted on, which takes off some of the immersion potentials. (I know that Defalt's story was saved for the DLC, so it's not the best proof.)

! BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN THAT THE STORY DOESN'T HAVE GOOD BEATS !

Now, the well-made things for which you should DEFINITELY play this game:

1. Chicago being a videogame city that is alive and the 'collectibles' are extra fun.

Okay, okay, let me explain. Sure, Watch Dogs' Chicago isn't the best area ever constructed in an open-world game. But... The city feels alive, it is changing around you, it never stops. You can find people making out, talking bad about their friend who is not there, you can look into their day-to-day life via something called 'privacy invasion', where you just hack into a camera and... You hear mommy calming down her kid who is crying, you can watch two girls playing Wii, presumably, and many other every day encounters.

NPCs are answering to you being into the city - asking questions on the range from 'Is that the guy from the news?' to straightaway call the cops because you are a mass murderer probably. When you stand in the middle of a road, they honk at you; when you accidentally bump into them, they call you names. It's amazing... And profiling them is even more fun. You can find profiles ranging from 'author of poetry' to 'clinically confirmed pyromaniac' and 'searches for 'feet' on the internet'. This shit is just ridiculous.

But... It's the smallest details you'll fall in love with. You can get on the "L" and it takes you on a ride. You can ride in it for the whole day, or you can get off on the next stop. When you're in the Wards or near Rossi Fremont, you can find dudes just listening to rap, chatting. Some guys force flyers into other people's hands. You can have coffee. The rain somehow feels real, and the nighttime just steals your breath away - and so do the sunsets. There's a part of the city called 'Hobotown', where the local hobos live, there are secret poker tournaments.

Chicago in Watch Dogs is a city with so many minor details that you cant find each of them in one gameplay. In each gameplay, you'll find something new, something that just makes you chuckle - but it's so thoughtful of the developers to even put it in their game. These small details are the ones that make you feel as if you were inside the game, convincing you that the Chicago you're looking at is, indeed, alive.

Then, there are the 'collectibles'. I didn't know how to call it other than that, so bear with me for a minute. There are minor 'side-missions' - for example, you're going after a killer, who is leaving you audios on the places he left one of his victims. There are QR coded which unlock audios that talk about the DedSec hacktivists. In the small 'hack 5 routers in a time limit' quests, you are unlocking one of the Blume's employees audios (Angela Balik's), talking about the files Raymond Kenney had hidden in the code back in the day, talking about the uprising of the Bellwether 'crime' prediction system.

The collectibles aren't everyone's thing, of course, and it won't take any of the Chicago experience when you don't listen to the voicemails or if you simply don't collect them. But, they can immerse you in the game world even more. And to be honest, this is one of the few games that had my ass shook about collecting the additional thingies.

2. The character cast.

Let's be honest, Aiden Pearce on his own isn't the best protagonist in the world. Don't get me bad, I like this game a lot, but he can come across as boring at times. And that's exactly when the character cast comes in to balance Aiden's character. Most of the cast has some sort of an attribute which compels to Aiden's personality very well, completes him in some way.

You have Raymond Kenney, who is a paranoid, rowdy, alcoholic genius who helped with creating ctOS - but has remorse about his history, because he caused the Northeast blackout 2003, killing eleven people. Which can show Aiden how bad can the power over the ctOS system be.

There's Jordi Chin, a prestigious assassin/fixer, who uses the game's darkest humor. Every fucking second Jordi is on screen, it's captivating, immersive and you'll find yourself chuckling at Jordi's jokes, which are definitely out of place. But he still keeps reminding you that he's in for the money, which, in the end, turns against Aiden in a way.

Clara Lille, otherwise known as BadBoy17, is a hacktivist working for the rebellious DedSec who are rebelling against Blume, the company behind ctOS. She seems to be innocent of the violence of getting revenge, but later in the game, Aiden discovers how deeply she was invested in the whole story about Lena.

Each of the characters has a personal connection to Aiden, widening his personality in various ways. Which is funny to watch throughout the story - and there's a ton of other characters I didn't even get into, like Lucky Quinn, Nicky, Jackson, Bed Bug... The characters are simply terrific.

3. The overall soundtrack.

Hear me out, this point is kinda tricky, yeah? I am not talking about the official soundtrack. The radio has some blasts I fell in love throughout playing the game - whether it introduced me to song 'Ms. Crumby' by the Audition, or made me fall in love with the Vampire Weekend, Kid Cudi, or The Vindictives. Yet, in the case of the radio, I tend to sort out a playlist consisting of 4-6 songs (YES? YOU CAN MAKE PLAYLIST INSIDE THE GAME???) which I play on repeat throughout the game.

There's also this masterful thing about the soundtrack sometimes 'forcing' itself into your gameplay, maybe more like 'self-inserting' into the game if you will. The two most memorable encounters of this are when: a) when you're helping Ray Kenney leave the junkyard and Pawnee behind and the 'ring ding piety pow' hardcore metal song plays throughout the final encounter (Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry) and b) when you enter Rossi Fremont, the whole time you're going through the building, the rap/hip-hop is playing, making you feel gangsta. (I think it's a song by Wu-Tang Clan, not sure tho).

But... Then it hits you. The in-game hidden soundtrack that sadly wasn't released. At least not officially. It has a reason, worry not - this in-game soundtrack reacts to the player's progress throughout the missions, so it basically plays on a loop. Which is understandable.

The most standing out instance I can talk about is when you enter the small island where the old Blume secret place is hidden on. You and Clara are on a mission searching for legendary sacred place (at least for the hackers) called 'The Bunker'. And my friends... This is when it hits you. The soundtrack feels familiar even when you're playing the game for the first time. This piece just hits differently than any other soundtrack I've heard. Not even Time by Hanz Zimmer has this effect on me, and I LOVE the Inception.

And there's more - the piece of the soundtrack which plays when you're going after Jackson is probably another great example.

BONUS ROUND: 4. The Bad Blood (DLC)

Okay, this had a lot to do with my love for Raymond Kenney and I am not worried to say it out loud. But this DLC is truly a DLC. It only uses the WD world, which was set up in the OG game, as its base - but it isn't its main focus at all. This DLC introduces us to new characters as well as to some we knew already we knew.

In the OG game, Tobias is the mad hobo who sells us cool thingies to play with - and in they managed to show Tobias' full potential, showing us how smart and hilarious, as well as paranoid, this guy is in reality. It deepened Ray's character, revealed Defalt's motivations and the history that tied both of them to the Northeast blackout.

There are also new areas to explore, new things to play with and even if the DLC doesn't do anything too revolutionary with the game's world, it's the best DLC I've played. And I may have enjoyed it more than Aiden's story. But again, I'm pro-Kenney biased, so that's kinda expected of me, ain't it?

PS: I hate Sitara or whatever her name is.

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stilldani24 · 4 years

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Seize the Day - Newsie!Bucky x Journalist!Reader - Chapter Four

Summary: The Newsie Strike of 1899 made the world stand still for two weeks. For one kid and his bum-legged best friend, it meant The World was watching and they needed to make a difference. Based on Disney’s Newsies.

Warnings: Disabled character, violence, fluff (it’s a lot there at the end)

Word Count: 2028

A/N: Holy shit, so sorry everyone. Didn’t mean to leave y’all high and dry for two months. But here we go, chapter four and let’s hope I don’t wait another two months for chapter five. But I might be moving soon, so no promises.

PROLOGUE//CHAPTER ONE//CHAPTER TWO//CHAPTER THREE//MASTERLIST

As you got back to your home, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. As hectic as this day had been, it had been the best day of your journalism career so far. Not only did you have a lead to the greatest strike in history possibly happening the following day, but you were promised a front-page story if this rally went well. Write it good, he had said.

“Write it good,” you repeated yourself in a deep tone, chuckling to yourself about the lame imitation of Bucky’s voice. You then sighed as you plopped down in front of your typewriter. “Write it good or else it’s back to wheezing your way through the flower show. No pressure.”

You then cracked your knuckles, craning your head back and forth before focusing on the device in front of you. After a few moments of pondering, you began to type. “‘Newsies stop The World’,” you paused, thinking over what you had just written. “A little hyperbole never hurt anybody. ‘With all eyes fixed on the trolley strike, there’s another battle brewing in the city’.”

You stopped dead in the middle of your typing, groaning to yourself as you ripped the page from the typewriter. “Now if only I could write something good about it. C’mon, Y/N! Those boys are counting on you…oh, those poor boys. This is big, lady, don’t screw it up. This is not some little vaudeville I’m reviewing.”

You thought to yourself, leaning back into your chair as you tried to think of words to string together to make a coherent, yet interesting story. Poor little kids versus rich, greedy sourpusses. Huh. It’s a cinch. It could practically write itself.

“And let’s pray it does,” you murmured as you continued to type, rip, think, and type again. Were you insane? This is what you’ve been waiting for. Well, that, plus the screaming of ten angry editors. You laughed to yourself as you remembered their reactions to the news of you joining the newspaper crew as a journalist as opposed to a receptionist.

“A girl?”

“It’s a girl!”

“How the hell?”

“Is that even legal?”

Not only that, there’s a story behind the story. Thousands of children, exploited, and invisible. The only way for this to get better was for someone speak up, take a stand, and have someone write about it. That someone being you. You sat up, shaking your head to yourself before going back to writing.

“‘The modern-day David is poised to take on the rich and powerful Goliath with the swagger of one twice his age, armed with nothing more than a few nuggets of truth. Bucky Barnes stands ready to face the behemoth Pierce’,” you finished, sitting back in your chair and grinning at your work once the typewriter dinged, indicating it was ready to be pushed and another line written. “Now that’s how you turn a boy into a legend.”

Now to put Bucky into words to make him sound larger than life. Picture a handsomely, heroically, charismatic, plain-spoken, know-nothing, skirt-chasing, cocky, little son-of-a – no, that was a little too praising. In order to get a raise and a promotion, one has to lie down with dogs. So, he’s a flirt. A complete egomaniac, in fact. Well, facing the facts of the matter, he’s also the face of the strike.

“What a face.”

Why you had said that aloud baffled even you, but his face could save you all from sinking in the ocean. Shaking your head to clear your mind of that Cupid reincarnate, you tried to think of anything else you could fill your piece with. Like someone had once said, power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely, meaning that as someone’s power increases, their morality decreases.

“I’m a genius.”

Just look around at the world your generation was inheriting. It was a flaming garbage can under the Brooklyn Bridge. But, on the brighter side, think of the one you could create. As you had written on the page in front of you, it was David and Goliath. Do or die. The fight was on for the rights of the working class, child labourers, and everyone in between. Nothing happens if you just give in, and it can’t be any worse than how it’s been. So, whatever happened, you had to set the ball rolling. You grinned to yourself, cracking your knuckles once more before typing faster than you had ever typed a piece in your short life. This was going to be one for the history books.

Bucky paced nervously in front of the World’s gates. Earlier that morning, he had sent his fellas out to ask different neighbourhoods to join in the strike. He had somehow convinced Scott Lang, a kid from the Bronx, to go over to Brooklyn. He was a funny kid, had wits to spare, and always seemed to convince Rumlow and Zemo to give him papes for five cents cheaper. If anyone were to convince Pietro to join in the cause, it was him. One by one, newsies returned with the same news. Every neighbourhood of newsies were onboard with the cause, but only agreed to join if Brooklyn gave the go-ahead. Bucky looked around for Lang, sighing when he heard the twin doofuses unlock the gates. Finally, when the others began filing into Newsie Square, Scott came running up.

“Okay, so…” he began, wringing his hands together. “Brooklyn’s in if we show ‘em that we serious. They wanna see how we act today.”

“For Chrissake,” Bucky murmured, looking between the newsies and Sam, who gave him a look. Every newsie was beginning to doubt their cause, wanting to perhaps wait a few days, or give up completely. The look Sam gave was for Bucky to do something.

“Hey, hey!” Bucky yelled out, calling every newsie in the Square to gather around them. “We can’t back down now, a’ight, no matter who doesn’t show. You like it or not, now is when we take a stand.”

“How’s about we jus’ don’t show up for work?” Clint then asked.

“No, stupid, that’s jus’ what they want!” Bucky replied. “They can jus’ replace us! They need to see us stand our ground. Sam, you tell ‘em, c’mon. They ain’t gonna listen to me.”

Sam sighed, looking to Steve, who just shrugged. He then turned back to the crew, looking over each one of them. “Carpe diem.”

One by one, each boy got the most confused look on their faces. Sam shook his head, forgetting that few to none of these boys received the education that he had. “It means ‘seize the day’,” he clarified, making the boys now nod in understanding. “We do what we have to do. Even if it’s just us, we have to go through with our plans. If we back down now, or at all after we start, they’ll never take us seriously ever again. Minute by minute, that’s how we’ll win it.”

He then looked back to Steve, noticing what he had draped on his crutch. Some time during the previous night or that morning, he had found a piece of scrap cloth and had written on it with a piece of coal, STRIKE. He smiled, looking at a small gesture of the much bigger picture. The paper bell then began to ring, Tony Stark exiting the adjacent building to the Square to begin his shift on paper duty.

“Alright, none of the strike business. Step up and get your papers or you’ll be removed for trespassing,” he spoke to the awaiting boys, getting right down to business and letting Rumlow and Zemo take control if these boys got rowdy. Three completely unfamiliar boys stepped up, pushing past the newsies to gather papers.

“Hey, who the hell are these guys, ey?” Bucky called out to the three higher powers standing across the courtyard to them. “You pay them extra cash to sell papes for ya? Well, that just ain’t right. We been out here for days, months, years, slavin’ away for ya’s when we could’a been goin’ to school or playin’! But no, we havt’a support ourselves ‘cause no one else is gonna! All we ask for is a square deal. Fellas,” he spoke to the three unknown boys now. “Drop ya papes. For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughterhouse in this city. I beg of ya’s, join the strike.”

One boy walked right up to Bucky, looking like he was about to throw punches, but with one look back to the two other boys, he threw his papers down. “I’m with ya!”

One by one, each boy was persuaded to throw down their papes and join the Manhattan Newsies in their cause by the boy before them. With their numbers now grown by three, their rally in the Square fully commenced by tipping over the paper cart and scattering papers absolutely everywhere. Rumlow, Zemo, and Stark hurried into the World building.

You finally rounded the corner, seeing the boys throwing papers every which way. Following you was your closest buddy, a man by the name of Phil Coulson, who was the photographer for the Sun. He snapped a picture of the scene in front of you two, of all the boys standing in front of the stack of papers and throwing other papers into the air. That was front page material for sure. Bucky then noticed you, grinning and spinning you in a hug amongst the falling papers. Before any of you could celebrate further, you heard the familiar call of a police whistle. Amongst the officers were workers of the Refuge, lead by Snyder, and every boy began scattering in order to avoid arrest and time in the Refuge. Newsies began using stacks of newspapers as weapons against the advancing officers, Bucky obviously leading the charge. He immediately grabbed you by the arms, leading you away from the action so you wouldn’t be hurt or arrested for simply being there.

He hurried you to a tight spot in between two buildings, making sure you were hidden from plain sight. “Stay here, a’ight?”

You nodded as he hurried back off to find Steve. Sam had picked up Peter Parker, shoving him into a barrel and pushing his head down so he too was hidden. Bucky was soon chased by two police officers but evaded them by climbing up a fire escape and pulling the ladder up after him. What he hadn’t seen was Rumlow and Zemo grabbing Steve until it was too late. Zemo, wearing brass knuckles, punched Steve so hard against the face that he immediately crumpled to the ground. Even though the crippled kid was obviously not going to fight back, Rumlow grabbed his crutch and began beating the kid with it. Bucky finally noticed Steve’s cries for him, but by the time he was starting to get back down to save him, Snyder had grabbed the badly beaten kid and hauled him off to an awaiting carriage, taking him to the refuge. Thankfully, all others had escaped. You were safe. But his brother was hurt, in pain, and heading to the worst place in New York City. Bucky hopped from the fire escape, starting to chase after the carriage to hopefully save Steve. But from your hiding place, you grabbed his hand and hauled him into the space.

“You’re wanted man number one, stay here,” you told him quietly while covering his mouth. Bucky was crying, panting, and still calling out for Steve when you had pulled him in. Police were still milling about, trying to catch anyone they could. Once they saw that everyone had run from the scene, they dispersed and left Newsie Square a wreckage of the attempted strike that day. You uncovered Bucky’s mouth once the scene was bare, about to leave your space when he grabbed you. He hugged you close to his chest, burying his face into your neck and letting out one sob after another. You gave him a sad smile, embracing him in return.

Upon your first meeting, you would have never expected Bucky Barnes to have such strong feelings for anyone else. But here he was, sobbing and still calling out for Steve while clinging to you. So you let him.

Permanent Taglist: @buckysmischief @captainscanadian @thingsthatkeepmeawakeeveryday @this-kitten-is-smitten @wtfisachoncexx @jllngls02 @abrilkatz123 @writeturnlove @buckysgirls-stuff @tomhollandenthusiast @sebastian-i-stan @farfromjustordinary @imma-new-soul @lumar014

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN!!

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marigoldhotel · 5 years

Text

Flirt Colby Brock Fanfiction

Flirt

c.b.

(marigoldhotel)

Word Counter: 1,676

Synopsis: Reader becomes really flirty with Jake and Colby gets a little jealous (v jealous actually)

You didn’t mean to be flirty, it was just in your nature. For you, it was harmless. The hand touches, the kisses on the cheek, the winks and the compliments, it was meaningless, really. All in good fun. You usually loved to flirt with your friends the most. It was cute to see the way they reacted. Especially Jake. You had been teasing him more than the usual. When the group would get together for movie nights, you were always by his side, running your long nails through his colored hair, letting him rest his head on your thighs. When the group would eat out at restaurants (probably either TenderGreens or Chipotle), you made sure to sit next to him, flirting with him openly. He always reciprocated, his cheeks an adorable shade of pink. You loved it, you had to admit. But even though your actions hinted at the opposite, you didn’t have feelings for Jake. He was your best friend, nothing more. He knew that. He also knew who your heart really belonged to. That was a lot harder to tell. Jake was the only one who knew, not even your friends from back home were aware of your feelings for Colby. While Jake and you flirted relentlessly, you and Colby were a whole different story. There was never a moment with Colby when you didn’t feel butterflies. From the way he spoke to the way he smiled, it took your breath away. He was beautiful. Almost like a work of Art. But besides his looks, what made you fall (and fall HARD) was his kindness. He was almost like an angel on Earth. You were in a trance whenever you were with him, a dream. While you were a flirty person, your true feelings held you back from trying anything with Colby. You were afraid he wouldn’t reciprocate, and so you made it your mission to flirt with anyone but him. You didn’t want to make it obvious. It hurt Colby, however, whether you knew it or not. He saw you fluttering your lashes at Jake or anyone else out of all your friends, and he wished it was him in their place. He had always loved you. The way you were constantly yourself, the way you smiled and the way you danced. He loved the late night conversations on those warm July nights when you were visiting where you would talk about everything and nothing all at once. He believed wholeheartedly that you were the one for him. His soulmate. His other half. But he never acted upon it. You were constantly acting bold around the boys, but you had never played with his hair or held his hand the way you did with the others. It was obvious to him you didn’t like him.

“You pick the next movie.” You whispered to Jake, your hands messing with his hair. For the most part, everyone was out of the house. Sam and Colby where by the poolside, filming a video for their channel. Corey and Devyn where out on a date, and Aaron alongside his girlfriend Tori where at a friends house. It was just you two. Jake groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I picked the last three!”

“Well, you have great taste, anything you pick is amazing. Can you really blame me for wanting you to choose?” You smirked. He sighed, and grabbed the remote, flipping through the options online.

“Fine, but you’re ordering food tonight. “He remarked, and you laughed, nodding. You heard the slide door opening, knowing it was your two friends walking inside.

“You guys have been watching movies since you woke up. Don’t you ever get bored?” Sam commented, placing his camera on down.

“I’m never bored with him!” You smiled, teeth chewing lightly on your lower lip.

“Yeah, I think we probably all have figured that out by now.” Colby remarked, his tone of voice more disappointed than angry. You looked at him, and then at Sam. It had gone uncomfortably quiet.

“Y/N is ordering food tonight. You guys want it?” Jake asked, diverting their attention from the interaction that just happened.

“What type?” Sam asked.

“Pizza, Mexican, Thai, whatever you guys want.”

“Sure.” Sam said, and Colby just nodded. “We can just order pizza.”

“Alright!” You smiled, and focused yourself back to the screen, Colby was still staring as they walked away.

“Dude. You make it so obvious.”

“Make what obvious?” Colby asked, pretending to be out of the loop.

“You like Y/N. You constantly stare at her.”

“I do not.”

“Dude...”

“What?!”

“Just ask her out. It’s not that difficult.”

“I doubt she likes me dude. She’s always hitting on Jake.”

“So? She talks to everyone like that.”

“Not to me.” Colby stated, his voice lowering. Sam sighed.

“Talk to her then. Or to him, but you can’t keep living in a stalemate, dude.”

“I guess so, man…” He agreed, and stood quiet in thought.

“Let’s go downstairs, order some Postmates, and chill out.” Sam urged, and they both made their way downstairs, finding Jake watching the movie attentively, while Y/N was on her phone. She looked up, smiling softly.

“The food should be here soon!” Y/N exclaimed, scrolling through her daily feed. Colby wanted nothing more than to push Jake off and take his spot, but instead he sat in the farthest corner of the couch. Sam followed suit.

“What are we even watching?” Colby asked, trying to figure out what stupid bullshit Jake had pulled.

“Duh, it’s only the greatest show of all time.” Jake proclaimed, causing Y/N to giggle. Colby tried his best to hide his annoyance, so he grabbed the T.V. remote and switched the channel.

“This sucks dude. I’m picking what to watch.” Colby stated, and you watched him quietly. No one said anything for a while, until the door bell rang.

“It should be the pizza guy! I’ll get it.” You said, and tried to get up, but Jake grabbed you by the hips and pulled you down, laughing.

“No, I’m comfortable! You’re my pillow.” He stated, before you pulled out of his grip, winking.

“Don’t care!” You smirked, and left for the door. Jake laughed, going back to his phone while Colby felt his jaw tighten. Sam looked at Colby, and said nothing. You came back a few seconds later, two huge boxes of pizza in your hand. You placed them both on the table and opened them, staring at them in satisfaction. The group huddled around the boxes, and whatever tension was building relaxed. You took to the couch, wrapping a blanket around you. Sam, Jake, and Colby sat close to the box, and everyone began to eat. Everyone watched T.V., sometimes quiet and sometimes rowdy and loud. Everything was as it usually was, happy. As time passed, the boxes became more and more empty, and the group got really quiet. Sam left to go take a nap before he had to wake up and film a 3 a.m. challenge. You fell asleep on the couch, clinging onto a pillow tightly. Jake was half asleep, and Colby was watching you, making sure you didn’t fall from the couch.

“Dude. Can I talk to you?” Colby spoke up, his eyes not leaving you. All night, he had been thinking about what to say to him, and now it felt like as good of a time as any to speak up.

“Yeah bro, what’s up?” Jake asked, sitting up.

“You and Y/N....” Colby began, and Jake laughed. Jake new more than he let on. He knew about your feelings, and he knew how in love Colby was with you. He also knew that the both of you were completely stupid and were too scared to make the first move.

“No, dude. She’s my best friend but that is it. Definitely just friends.”

“Really? Because you guys are always acting like more than just “best friends.”

“Nah, brother, she’s not my girl. She’s all yours.” Jake smirked, and Colby stared.

“What?”

“I’m not dumb, dude. I see the way you look at her, and I see the way she looks at you. It’s so obvious that the both of you dig each other. “ Jake rolled his eyes, standing up.

“How is it obvious when she’s always flirting with you?” Colby asked, scoffing. Jake shrugs.

“You will never know if you don’t ask. So stop being a pussy and talk to her.” Jake said, and with that he left. Colby sat in silence, drinking up Jake’s words. He was relieved in part that Jake had no feelings for you. That meant he wasn’t getting in the middle of something. Even so, he was still jealous, because he never seemed to get you to treat him like you treated he other boys. “Does she think I’m gross?” Colby thought, thinking to himself. His thoughts spiraled, until he heard your breathing, and he was pulled from his frantic mindset. He looked to you, and a small smile decorated his face. You were sprawled on the couch, pillow on the floor, and leg hanging off the edge. He stared, thinking about how undeniably cute you were. Just looking at you made the butterflies fly in his stomach. You were so beautiful to him. He got up and pulled your leg up to the couch, covering you properly and picking up the pillow, putting it aside. He stared at you, pulling a strand of hair gently away from your face. Colby couldn’t help but be grateful for your presence in his life. Although you were driving him crazy, all the memories you two had created were heaven to him, and he was willing to go through anything to have you by his side. He leaned down and kissed your temple sweetly, and retreated upstairs to his own room, turning the lights off on his way upstairs. “Tomorrow would be another day” he thought to himself, locking his door behind him. Hopefully he would know what to do. Either which way, he wasn’t gonna let you go.

A/N: I’M SOOO SORRY THIS WAS SUPER LONG! This is kind of establishing the whole plot and establishes character relationships. I got really inspired by my tumblr friend @thinkaboutdolan (i love you so much girl omg)! Part two will come out in a bit, but I want to work on completing other prompts so that I can have different pieces on my blog. Love you guys! Thank you so much for your support. ALL THE LOVE xoxo.

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thebeauregardbros · 5 years

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== About the Mun

– one / NAME / ALIAS. Will ✨ I also go by “ENSHOKU” on the Smule app and WillofRose a bunch of other places. My best friend nicknamed me “x50 skeleton death lord″ on fb messenger lmao

– two / BIRTHDAY. 01/27/1996 🎂

– three / ZODIAC SIGN. Aquarius ♒ / Wood Boar 🐖

– four / HEIGHT. 5′8″ (173cm) I like to wear high heels though, pumping me up to around 6′~6′2″! 👠

– five / HOBBIES. Shoe customization and light sewing, cooking/baking, digital art, poetry, & casual gaming. My favorite games are Bayonetta, Dragon Age, Undertale, Distance, SNK and CAPCOM fighting games.. eeh, I could go on - I dabble a bit in every game genre and love all of ‘em. Don’t play too many strategy political games or fast-paced multiplayer shooters though, sorry! 🤷‍♂️

– six / FAVOURITE COLOURS. #ff005d, #ff9e00, #0bffb1 🎨

– seven / FAVOURITE BOOKS. Kyou Kara Ore Wa!!, Paros no Ken, Black Jack, Rookies, uhhh im sure there’s more i can’t remember SORRY

– eight / LAST SONG LISTENED TO. Future Wife Carly Haze 140bpm - Yumi Rose

– nine / LAST FILM WATCHED. uhhhh I think it was pan’s labyrinth? or was it like half of blade that I never finished?.. Or did I re-watch enter the spider-verse again recently?.. it’s been months since I’ve watched a movie instead of a tv show fdjkhgfjk, apologies, no idea

– ten / INSPIRATION FOR MUSE. Alus is pretty much the exact opposite of any OC I’ve ever played - I tend to make player characters that are very rowdy, vulgar, messy, brutally honest and loud, usually pugilists/monks with the personality of an overly cocky shounen protagonist with no fear or shame, always chaotic neutral types, often fun drunkards. Alus was the first time I made someone who was polite, neat, gentle and unwaveringly kind and good-aligned, and very lawful. At the time I created him in my life I was struggling a lot with ideas of traditional gender identity and frankly I’ve always liked pretty, elegant, romantic aesthetics - Once I realized I could identify as a prince in a fairy tale instead of being forced into a princess role just to have that sweet shoujo aesthetic (and reading Paros no Ken for the first time!), I decided on that aesthetic and went all-out for him to have it. But since I love underdogs, I made him a completely clueless guy who’s forever reaching for an unreachable goal (being royalty, specifically and especially an idea of a good guy fairy tale royalty, or else a perfection incarnate sparkly fairy tale knight in shining armor). I think that when a character is reaching for something that’s pretty much impossible or hopeless for them, I emotionally relate to them a lot. Alus bullshitted from the beginning that he was a hero, or a warrior of light, or a prince in shining armor there to save everybody, and after a very long journey... He pretty much is! And I think that’s extremely beautiful and heartwarming that he’s changed so much after working so hard. And his journey has been full of things that have weathered him into a more realistic idea of these things. I think seeing his foolish optimism somehow exist despite everything horrible that’s happened gives me hope for the world. A few months after creating and playing Alus, I played Undertale for the first time which very dramatically and permanently changed the way I felt morally and how I viewed the world (no joke!) so I decided from then on he’d be a pacifist, or at least an aspiring pacifist. I realized I drew a whole crap ton of inspiration from Vash the Stampede in writing him afterwards. I headcanon they have the same english voice actor too, haha.

His first ever inspiration for his personality was actually Judge Harry T. Stone from the 1980s sitcom Night Court. Talk about an obscure reference! One of Alus’ themes is also a Mel Tormé song, which is a direct reference to Harry’s obsession with the singer in the show. (FYI, if you like/can stand sitcoms with live audience laughter, Night Court is still incredibly funny imo, and really heartwarming when it deals with difficult topics - very humanitarian morality throughout.)

- eleven / GOD KNOWS WHERE IT WENT. god knows..

– twelve / MEANING BEHIND YOUR URL. thebeauregardbros is pretty self explanatory; this was meant to be a blog to document Alus and Arc’s adventures! Arc doesn’t show up much, so it became more of a casual blog for me ‘n’ Alus. @thefakenarcissist (my art blog) is a bit of a 2edgy4me title I gave myself once I decided to start faking self-confidence until it became real, which has honestly worked for me since I made the URL! I used to be terrified of showing or holding any sort of self confidence in fear it would label me a narcissist (usually a word with a negative connotation.) It’s also a bit of a reference to my favorite Street Fighter character, Vega, who’s musical theme is called “The Masked Narcissist”. He’s definitely a bad type of narcissist though, haha! But yeah, tldr; I think it’s better to fake acting like a goofy narcissist than to not have any confidence at all and act like it’s a normal and fine thing, because it’s not! Saying mean things about yourself is an act of self-harm, and I will always believe that. Alus is the same.

Tagged by: STOLEN BC IM VAIN

Tagging: @mostdangerouspotato @clearsundays @miqo-vynnie @handofcards aND U

#mun #meme

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business-gnome · 5 years

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Mercantile Society Newsletter: Issue #1

Fitzkrank Oils and Lotions is coming to Boralus! Look forward to the grand opening of our shop in the harbor on May 15! We are currently looking to employ a local Kul Tiran sixteen gold an hour to work the store! If you are interested, address a letter to Gerald Fitzkrank to set up an appointment!

During one of my first nights, I was able to interview Aneokame, the owner and operator of The Brig and the Ashwood Vale Consortium.

Ran by the kaldorei named Aneokame Crowsong, The Brig is a delightful hole-in-the-wall tavern located just outside of the dwarven district.They are open from six to ten bells nightly and offers a quiet, more mature atmosphere. Things here are taken at an easy pace and one does not feel harried or as though they are surrounded by rowdy rabble rousers like at other bars in the city. Their menu includes a variety of high quality wines, meads, ales, and liquors, a true staple. If you do go to the tavern, make sure to try their moonberry mead, as it is truly out of this world!

Next door to The Brig is Miss Crowsong’s shop, the Ashwood Vale Consortium, who offer a wide variety of strange, unusual, rare, and eclectic goods! Some of the goods include potions, tea leaves, dried herbs, books, furs, beautiful jewels, and artifacts! They even have hand sewn dresses and men’s shirts, a perfect boutique if you are going to a ball! If you are ever in need of a custom piece, the Ashwood Vale Consortium should be your go-to place for fine wear! The Ashwood Vale Consortium is open in the afternoons or by appointment! Stop by today!

(Character name: Aneokame. Character Tumblr: https://aneokame-crowsong.tumblr.com/)

Now in stores, experience an absolutely divine scent of, La Gnome's Tresour lotion and moisturizer! Selling for 22 gold pieces, it is an essential date-night accomplice. The scent is intoxicating -- a sexy, feminine blend of rose, peach and apricot blossom (among other fruity, floral goodness). Plus, the lightweight formula leaves your skin so smooth, it'd be a crime to go un-caressed.

Now in stock: the scent of roasted pine lotion, selling for 17 gold pieces! Available in store or from Gerald Fitzkrank! This scent will leave you smokey and desired, a mature fragrance that will be sure to lead to delightful company! This lotion was created due to the desires of Ms. Seraanna!

Next, I was luckily able to speak to a woman that recently joined the Mercantile Society! Her story is of struggles and triumph, and she is a true self-starter! Unlike Haris Pilton, of course.

Jacqueline McLean was but a girl when she arrived to Stormwind from Gilneas. She had had nothing to her name but the clothes on her back! She had to learn the streets rather quickly, and learn what the denizens of the city wanted and needed. From there, she started working on several ships, taking up whatever tasks she could. She became well known in the docks, Jacqueline McLean becoming a common name for the denizens of the harbor. She then found herself working under a nobleman for some time and that is where she began to invest in a more lucrative business. She studied language, rising up to be one of the leading Gilnean diplomats. She is often stationed in Boralus, maintaining relations with the people there and the Alliance.

She captains ‘The Siren’s Rose’. She acquired it by saving for five years, and it is the product of all her hard work since she arrived in the city. Even though she was quite young to commandeer a ship herself, she was able to make her dream a reality! She accomplished her goals at just twenty-five years old. Now she is twenty-eight, and she is her own boss! Some would even say she is the captain of her own sails! She usually employs for other men, besides her first mate, Troy. If you are looking to work on a boat sailing between Stormwind City and Boralus, then ‘The Siren’s Rose’ may be perfect for you!

Jacqueline McLean’s cargo consists of raw materials such as herbs, cloth, and ores, as well as items for personal clients. If you need a reliable captain to navigate your cargo to another port, Jackie is your gal! Her ship is almost always at the harbor in Stormwind or in the harbor of Boralus, when of course, she is not on the seas. Her door is open most of the time, always welcoming to guests!

(Character tumblr: https://shewolf-jacqueline.tumblr.com/, character name: Jåcqueline)

Say goodbye to the unpopular scents! ‘Pumpkin Gut’ and ‘Peppermint’ beard oils are officially being shelved, as they are truly out of season! They will, however, be replaced by two rejuvenating scents, bringing life to your beard!

The first scent is that of extracted anchor weed, an exotic herb found only in Kul Tiras and Zandalar! This scent is reminiscent of the ocean, and the clear oil brings a beard to its full potential! Make your beard smell of the seas and be as soft as a fair maiden’s touch today! This scent is only available in our Boralus location for 21 gold pieces.

The second scent is true to the season is that of wild steelbloom! Now now, gentlemen! It may not sound the manliest, but the flower offers a hardy scent that is sure to have your partners hoping for more! This scent is offered in all stores and in person for 15 gold pieces!

If you are seeking a rowdy experience every other Friday night, then Kegfist Brewery is for you! The popularity of the joint is astounding, full groups entering and enjoying the festivities the Kegfist offer. It seems their name-sake, the ‘kegsmasher’, is quite the hit. From what I’ve seen, it seems to be a heavily potent beverage that gets the party started. I am starting off with the appetizer of ‘Steamed Mushan Mandu’, a dumpling filled with meat from those large, savory reptile. It tastes vaguely fowl, like chicken or duck, but the seasoning is absolutely delicious. I am drinking their ‘Light Tea’, which helps wash down the heavy dumplings. There even seem to be patrons of the other faction at this establishment, a neutral place to ease the tensions of war that is currently crippling our world.

For my entrée, I decided to sample the ‘Way of the Ramen’, ordering myself some greenstone ramen. It contains lean sliced tiger, cabbage, bean sprouts, and carrots. And while it tastes amazing, one of the kickers is that it is cooked right in front of you! The noodles came out perfectly, the texture helping emphasize the stark tastes within the bowl. The tiger was cooked within the stew, soaking in the broth and the juices of the vegetables. The many different tastes bring forth a delightful sense, the textures aiding the tongue. The carrots are soft and almost mushy, yet they taste as though they were freshly picked. I highly recommend this meal, as it is an all around delicious entrée. It even comes with a fortune cookie!

I ordered from the ‘Way of the Grill’ next, Mr. Kegfist’s specialty. I ordered the black pepper ribs and giant shrimp! Yet again, this was a meal that was cooked in front of me, and boy howdy did it look very interesting! Pandaren cuisine is a marvel sometimes. Mr. Kegfist offered me three options for the ribs; mild, spicy, or dragon sauced! I chose spicy, as I consider myself quite the daredevil, but not to any extreme. I am no Sneevil Cogdeevil! Ah, I remember the days of seeing him do his stunts in the salt flats. May he find peace, wherever his is today. The ribs were delectable, falling off the bone and nearly melting in my mouth! The sauce was indeed spicy, and it felt as though I could breathe fire! The shrimp were out of this world, fresh caught and gutted in the establishment, you could taste the ocean on them! They were spicy as well, popping in your mouth as you eat them!

Finally, it was time to take my tastes to the ‘Way of the Fish’! And I am feeling -extra- spicy this evening, so I ordered the dragon sauce calamari! This may have been the spiciest thing I have ever tasted! Though it was absolutely delicious, a staple of the establishment. And yet again, Mr. Kegfist prepared it right before me! Added fun to the whole experience!

Wupoda Kegfist is the owner and head chef of Kegfist Brewery. He is a Pandaren of Halfhill, and he has been growing crops and learning the way of cooking since he was a child! Wupoda gets all of his vegetables fresh from Pandaria, crediting the magical soil for allowing his crops to grow at rapid paces and with massive growth!

Originally, his name was Wupoda Kegfist, Wandering Merchant of a Thousand Ales. It took them many tries to settle down in Pandaria, as they tried Stormwind, Kul Tiras, and a few other random places here and there in an attempt to appeal to different crowds. Then one night, his group were hired to work an event in this establishment, and they never left!

Kegfist Brewery also do catering! You heard that right, and the best way to get them to cater your event is to reach out to Mr. Kegfist through the mail! They have a pricing sheet and a few different modules for folks to find the best catering package for them. Mr. Kegfist’s tip to those of you wanting to break into the catering scene is: “Find your niche. We thrive because there aren’t many Pandaren chefs out there who have made business out of their skill. Most of us just do it for their friends and family.” So if you have a dream of becoming a caterer, do not be shy to express yourself and be adventurous! You may turn out to be as successful as Mr. Kegfist. If you market yourself as unique, it becomes harder for others to compete with your business! If Mr. Kegfist wasn’t running his restaurant, he would be tagging alongside the Darkmoon Faire! He has learned quite a few party tricks over his years in the bar tending scene.

Kegfist Brewery is always recruiting! “We can never say no to hopeful aspiring employees. We have more positions than just cooks and bartenders, so never consider yourself out just because you’re no good with food! Entertainers are always in high demand. Magic, jokes, a silly costume, it all works if you bring the charm. I’m posted in the Mage District of Stormwind pretty often for open interviews, if you ever see me around, come introduce yourself! -Wupoda Kegfist.

To close, Wupoda Kegfist leaves us with this nugget of wisdom: “Build your tables low to the ground, it is much harder to be drank under them.” He welcomes all to stop by Kegfist Brewery, as their doors are always open with cold drinks and friendly smiles! Be sure to catch them every other Friday night, from six bells to nine bells at The Drunken Hozen!

(Character name: Wupoda, guild tumblr: https://kegfistbrewery.tumblr.com/)

#wra-a #wyrmrest rp #wyrmrest accord #wyrmrest roleplay #wyrmrest alliance

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sonicrainicorn · 5 years

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Made of Love, Chapter 22

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Thomas's worst fear is realized.

TW: Cursing, death mention, violence, blood (somewhat descriptive), existential crisis (vague)

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

In the past few days, Virgil noticed something odd. Logan started wearing more long sleeves -- going so far as to wear Patton’s sweaters just so he’d have something covering his arms. Not that Virgil could say anything about it. He wore things with sleeves as often as he could since he always needed something to fidget with. Still, he decided to keep an eye on it for any further developments.

But perhaps he was overreacting. He often did that. He’d worry over things that didn’t need to be worried over. There was a chance this was one of those times. There was also a chance that it wasn’t. Nevertheless, It was better to be safe than sorry.

Other than that, everything was fine.

Well, as fine as it could be.

There was still the ever-looming threat of losing Logan forever which wasn’t fun to think about. At all. It didn’t help that he glitched out two days in a row, and it wasn’t any less terrifying than the first time. In fact, it seemed the more it happened, the scarier it got. A constant reminder that time was running out. Thankfully, Thomas had yet to witness it firsthand. No one could comprehend how traumatizing that would be for him.

Today, however, started somewhat normal. Patton and Virgil left the other three in the living room while they went outside to train. Training had become less frequent since they first started out, but it still happened. It was necessary. Practice makes perfect, as they say. Or at the very least, practice makes for a better outcome in a fight.

Speaking of fighting, Virgil couldn't help but wander over to what happened with the Theorist those couple days ago. Of how genuinely frightened he was of Patton. As if he had every reason to believe that Patton would hurt him without reason. He seemed so convinced if it. And Patton himself even admitted to being raised to fight. It all… it all sort of made sense. That was the reason he was so scarily accurate with weapons. That's why his first reaction upon hearing Arlene's name was to punch as hard as he could. It's why he didn't even hesitate to start training Roman and Virgil. Training is normal for him. Fighting is normal for him.

Did that make killing normal, too? Has Patton killed anyone? How many? Was Anxiety right? How long did he stay with his tribe before leaving? Did that affect how ingrained this was into his system?

"Look out!"

After a brief moment of alarm over hearing Roman's voice, Virgil plunged both Right and Left into the dummy's shoulder as a panic response. A bit unnecessary, and not at all what Right wanted him to do, but it got the job done. The dummy crumpled into a pile of sticks.

“You know, if you’re going to fight something you should probably focus on that rather than what’s going on in your head,” Patton mentioned from the log he sat at. A teasing smirk played at his lips. “Maybe you should take a break.”

Virgil ignored the heat rising up his face and tapped the hilts of his daggers together. They turned back into pens. He took a seat on the log as Patton stood up from it. “And what are you planning to do?”

“Well, everyone needs practice.” Beside his foot started to sprout thick, interweaving branches. They grew similarly to how someone might knit a scarf, except it started to curve. Patton pulled it out and a thin vine connected the two ends, creating a complete bow. After it, something resembling a sapling sprouted up with its needles forming along three sides to create the fletchings of an arrow.

Virgil decided not to comment on that. He watched Patton wander over to the opposite side of the dummies and take aim with his bow. He pulled back the makeshift string and let the arrow go. And missed -- but just barely. It scraped along the side of the dummy’s head and landed somewhere behind it.

“Whoops.” Patton grinned sheepishly. “This thing’s a little janky.” He sprouted another arrow from the ground. His movements were automatic, almost mechanical, as he plucked the arrow out and nocked it -- that is to say, he put the arrow to the string. He drew it back, aimed, and let it go. It hit the dummy’s head, causing it to crumble into a pile.

“So how long have you known how to use a bow and arrow?” Virgil watched another arrow hit the second dummy with rather remarkable grace. Like someone who had done this same action a dozen times over.

“A few hundred years.” The dummies built themselves back up. “Just about my whole life, really. Why?” Patton flicked his finger side to side in the direction of the dummies. They started to walk in opposite directions like cartoon characters on patrol.

Virgil followed one of the dummy’s steps with his eyes. “Wondering how much practice you actually need.” It fell to pieces.

A new arrow grew from the ground. “I mean, it’s good to brush off old skills every once in a while.” Patton nocked it and proceeded to aim at his next target.

“Even if those skills have been with you your whole life?”

“Yes, even then.” He hit it.

Virgil continued to watch Patton with increasing fascination. Every time both dummies went down, he had them start at a faster speed after they built themselves up again. He never missed. He hit the dummies' heads every time. A near-constant stream of arrows sprouted from the ground whenever he plucked one. Well, if someone did one thing for hundreds of years, they better be pretty good at it. Virgil assumed skills like this were only seen in books and movies.

It only made Virgil more curious. He wanted to learn more about Patton's heritage -- about the Machai elves. Were they as feared as the Theorist made them out to be? Why were they so focused on fighting? But Patton didn't want to talk about that. He made it very clear he wasn't interested in discussing his history.

There had to be some other way to do it -- some way to ease him into the topic. Because Virgil wouldn't be able to get any damn rest until he had at least some idea of who Patton was.

After hitting yet another target, Patton paused to push his hair out of his face. The wind picked up and caused the already rowdy curls to disobey any type of practicality. He had to spit out the few strands that made it into his mouth.

"Here. Looks like you need this." Virgil slipped off the hair tie on his wrist and offered it to Patton.

He grinned. "Thanks, Virgil." He set the bow down to walk over to him.

Then a lightbulb illuminated over Virgil's head.

As Patton gathered up all his hair, Virgil tried to figure out the best way to go about his question. It would sort of seem out of the blue, there was nothing he could do about that, but he figured he could use it as a leeway. "Hey, um, Patton. I have a bit of a question."

"What is it?" He pulled his hair through the tie.

"Do you know anything about soulmates?"

He cracked a small smile. "I know a lot about soulmates. Why? What's up?" He placed his hands on his hips. His hair was successfully pulled back into a little ponytail, though a few rebel strands decided to go their own way.

Shit. He wasn't prepared for this yet. "Oh -- uh -- just, like, what are they?"

"Well, they can be a lot of things. It depends on who you ask." He picked his bow back up. "If you want a textbook definition, they’re two people with a very close connection.”

“Is there a way you would define it?” Virgil put his hands in his hoodie pockets and put his back against the tree.

The dummies reformed. “Hmm. I guess I would say that soulmates are kinda like best friends. They’ll always be there for you and you’d understand each other better than anyone else.” He nocked another arrow. “I was taught that soulmates are sort of like stars. They’re bright and wonderful, but intense. They burn. And then they go out. Not every soulmate relationship sticks until the end. Sometimes they burn too much to really work out.”

“You sound so sure that they’re real.”

“There’s nothing saying that they’re not.” Patton sent him another grin. “It’s even possible for soulmates to be products of past lives. The Machai liked to believe that’s how soulmates are formed, anyway. Two people meet, they had a deep connection, their souls try to find each other again after they’re reincarnated.” He plucked another arrow.

Reincarnation. That was something Virgil didn’t want to think much about. It made sense, didn’t it? People kept seeing something in him -- someone that wasn’t him. Not anymore, anyway. It made sense that reincarnation would play a role. But it was terrifying. He existed before -- Roman existed before. They didn’t have any recollection of it. Did that change anything about them? Were they meant to remember more?

Ah, shit. There was that existential dread again. A puzzle piece from the wrong puzzle thrown into the mix. He had a perfectly fine puzzle before that extra piece forced its way in. Now nothing was going to fit right until he found out where it went.

Fuck.

Change the subject. “Would you consider yourself to be Logan’s soulmate?”

Patton stopped mid-action. He stayed frozen until slipping his fingers away from the string, continuing with the motion of shooting. He missed. “I’d say we’re something else entirely.”

Virgil stared at the arrow embedded in the nearby tree. “What would that be?”

He lowered the bow and looked up at the treetops. For a moment, Virgil was afraid he somehow asked the wrong question, until he saw a bright smile creep along Patton’s face. “It’s not something with a name, I don’t think. It’s different. It’s more like we rewrote our own stories to be how we wanted them. Sort of threw destiny off track a bit."

That was enough attempting to pry for today.

When they went back inside, the other three were still in the living room. Thomas was the first to notice their return. He gasped and leaped to his feet, running over to them like an energetic puppy. Paint was smeared along his cheeks and many splatters were over his clothes.

"Guys, look what we did." He threw his arms out to the canvas on the floor. It was a serene portrait of a tree branch with a bird resting on it. In the back was a lush field of green, scattered with bits of orange flowers. "Logan sketched out one of Roman's pictures and then we painted it. What do you think?"

Patton smiled. "It looks great." He leaned over the back of the armchair to get a better look at it without getting in the way. Roman and Logan were still working on it.

"It's not finished yet." Thomas beamed at Virgil.

"Looks pretty good to me." He returned the smile at a lower watt intensity.

"Well it has to be perfect," Roman called from the floor. He sat back from the painting. He was the least covered in paint out of the three of them. It only seemed to be on his hands.

"He's been insisting that since we started, even though we've said it doesn't need to be." Logan sat back as well. There were a few specific smears of paint on his face and even some in his bangs. He lifted his eyes from the canvas and they froze at Patton. "Your hair is up."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He put a hand to his hair and gave a nervous smile. "Do you not like it?"

"I never said that. I think you look rather nice. It makes it easier to see all the constellations on your face."

Patton placed a hand on his cheek, his smile switching to be more reserved.

"Plus, you get to see your cute little elf ears," Thomas added.

Virgil felt heat rise to his cheeks. He could see Roman's turn pink.

"Thomas!" Patton covered his ears.

"I agree with that," Logan said.

Virgil's face got warmer.

Sometime around noon, they decided to walk down into town for lunch. They hadn’t gone out for food in a while and it seemed like a perfect time to do it. Well, perfect as a relative term. No one dropped dead or anything like that. So that was the standard for perfect nowadays, which was a bit upsetting for various reasons. But whatever.

As they ate, they ended up falling into a discussion about one of the biggest things they’ve ever gotten in trouble for. Patton and Logan elected not to participate, and Virgil was reluctant to admit anything. Roman, on the other hand, told them about the time he and one of his brothers put a wad of gum in their older sister’s hair and no one could get it out. She had to cut it super short and they ended up feeling bad about it. The days they were meant to be grounded for got canceled out by their sister shaving part of their heads and forcing them to get haircuts as well.

“What were you even expecting to happen?” Virgil gave Roman the usual ‘you’re-a-dumb-idiot’ look (but in a rare addition of amusement) as he messed around with the straw of his drink.

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. We were dumb and he’s a bad influence, but we learned not to mess with her after that. Especially after she started taking taekwondo lessons.” He reached into the large fry pile that they made. “Don’t act like you’ve never done anything dumb like that before.”

“Of course not. I’m an only child.” He hid his smirk by taking a sip of his drink.

Roman tossed a fry at him. “Whatever. You’ve had to have done something stupid in your childhood.”

“I somehow doubt that Virgil has ever done anything along your lines of idiocy,” Logan commented.

“Okay, rude.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Virgil said.

“You two don’t need to pick on Roman all the time,” Patton interjected. “Give him a break.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil. “Yeah! Thanks, Dad.”

Patton grinned while Logan rolled his eyes. Virgil was forced to stick his tongue out in retaliation.

“Back on the subject,” Thomas snuck into the conversation, “is there really nothing you’ve ever done that’s gotten you into big trouble?”

Virgil went back to messing with the straw. “I don’t know if I’m willing to confess my childhood shenanigans to you guys.”

“Oh, come on. They can’t be as bad as that time I got arrested.” He snatched up a fry as if the most Earth-shattering thing didn’t just come out of his mouth.

Roman inhaled a piece of food and started choking. Virgil’s jaw dropped. What the actual fuck.

“You’ve been arrested before?” Virgil didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Part of him wanted to scream instead.

Thomas stopped and grinned sheepishly. “Just once. I used to be a graffiti artist in the seventies and I got caught writing on something I shouldn’t have. The charges were dropped, though.”

Roman downed the rest of his soda. “Oh my God.” He coughed. “I can’t believe you’ve been arrested. You’re just a little baby. How could that happen to you?”

He shrugged. “Accident.”

Patton and Logan didn't look very amused.

After continuing to freak out over Thomas being arrested by an actual police officer before, they finished up so they could get back home. But neither Roman or Virgil could get over it. Thomas Sanders -- the same Thomas that cries during emotional movies and the same one that tried to avoid cursing -- was arrested for committing a crime. A minor misdemeanor really, but that didn’t change the disbelief. Roman was right. Thomas was a little baby. It wasn’t comprehensible for him to be doing any kind of illegal activity.

They freaked the fuck out even more when he mentioned, at the time, he could have passed as a twelve-year-old. In hindsight, he probably should have kept that to himself. He wasn’t ever going to hear the end of it.

By the time they were almost home, Roman and Virgil calmed down about it at least a little bit. Patton decided to change the subject before one or both of them had an aneurysm.

The street that led back home was empty once they got there. It wasn’t ever busy on the weekends since the majority of the buildings lining it were businesses or other buildings of that nature. So it was quiet and there wasn’t anyone to give them a second glance. It was because of this, though, that Virgil noticed Thomas coming to a complete stop. When people were around, he tried to avoid their attention and move as fast as possible to where he needed to be. Without them, he was able to look around more.

He stopped as well and turned toward Thomas. He was looking up at an office building. Virgil followed his gaze, but couldn’t see anything of note. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I -- I just --” He glanced at the group before returning his eyes up to the building. “I just thought I saw… something.” He frowned. “Hold on.” He took off before anyone could say anything about it.

“Thomas,” Patton cried out in alarm.

Virgil was the first to follow after him, glancing vaguely in each direction of the street before running across. Thomas already made it inside by the time he got to the door. He could see him turn up the stairs. Not wanting to waste any time, he tugged on the door. But it didn't budge. “What the hell?” He pulled it again, but it didn’t swing open as it had for Thomas.

“It’s locked?” Roman ran up to him. He stared at the door in confusion. He pulled at the second one beside it, then pushed, but it didn’t move either way.

“What do you mean it’s locked?” Patton hovered nervously at Virgil’s side. “How is it locked?”

“Maybe he locked it?”

“Wha -- you can’t lock a door like this without a key.” Virgil shook the handle for emphasis. There wasn’t any way to lock it like a normal house door. It was an entrance to an office building -- it needed a key to be locked.

Roman threw his hands up. “So then how the hell did he get in if it was already locked?”

Patton and Logan shared a worried glance. “We have to get in,” Logan said.

“How?” Roman waved his arms in the direction of the doors. “We have no way of opening these.”

“I’ll just --” He reached for the door, only to yank his hand back -- “I can’t… I can’t do anything.” He looked down at his hands, then back up at the group. “Patton.” He fumbled over his words, struggling to push out a complete sentence, before giving up and pointing at the door. “Open it.”

Patton grimaced, inching forward to be in front. “Oh, I hope I don’t break anything too much.” He placed his hand between the two doors. Soon, weeds began to break through the crack. They pushed out and out until both doors popped open. He pulled one open all the way and rushed inside, followed by Logan.

“You can wait for us at least,” Roman called after them.

“Taking off just runs in the family.” Virgil grabbed Roman’s wrist and tugged him through the door.

They tried to keep up with Logan and Patton, but that proved a much more difficult task than anticipated. It was almost unfair how fast they were compared to Roman and Virgil. Though, if she perceives that her cub is in danger, it isn’t as if momma bear will take her time.

It wasn’t until they reached the third floor did they find Thomas. He stood in a partially vacant room with a large window that faced the street. It appeared as if the contents of the room were in the process of being taken elsewhere. Boxes were piled up in various corners.

"Thomas," Patton and Logan exclaimed at the same time. They hurried over to him, inspecting to see if he was okay.

"What made you run away like that?" Patton asked. He put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders.

Thomas took his eyes off the window and onto the very concerned faces of Patton and Logan. "I just thought I saw something."

"So you run away?" Logan crossed his arms

"What if something happened to you?"

Virgil and Roman idled in the doorway. If anyone has ever had a moment where you're at a friend's house, and then their parent starts lecturing them, then you know that uncertain and awkward feeling. It was an uncertain and awkward feeling that Virgil and Roman were being exposed to. They weren't quite sure if they should speak up, or walk away, or do anything. So they ended up keeping their mouths shut and pretended to focus on other things.

Thomas sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's our job to keep you safe," Patton continued. "We can't keep you safe if you wander around without letting us know."

“I know.”

Patton gave a vague semblance of a smile and dropped his hands. “Let’s go home, alright?”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Logan added.

They walked back out to the open office floor. There were a lot of things put in boxes out here as well. Perhaps this particular floor was moving elsewhere. No matter, that wasn’t the main focus of this trip. Patton continued to make worried comments toward Thomas, asking if he was sure he was fine, but Thomas didn’t make very convincing answers. He mostly brushed it all off.

Once they made it back down to the second floor, everyone stopped dead when they heard a door creak open. They held their breath, seeing the door pulled into another room. Virgil expected a businessman, or otherwise threatening authority figure, but who stepped out did not meet his expectations. It was a rather soft-looking woman. A woman of average height with short brown hair -- who wasn’t even wearing a suit or dressed formally at all. She closed the door and looked up, peaceful expression turning surprised.

“Oh, well, wasn’t expecting this,” she said with a small smile.

Virgil wasn’t sure if that phrase was supposed to be significant in any way. He hadn’t ever seen this woman before. At least, he didn’t think so. And by the looks of it, Roman hadn’t either. Patton and Logan, on the other hand, seemed as if they just saw a ghost. Thomas stood there with wide eyes. No one said anything. No one moved.

“M-Mom?” With that simple word, Thomas’s eyes began to water.

The woman looked at him and her smile widened.

“Mom.” Thomas booked it over to her before Patton or Logan could stop him. He crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her, and crying. “Mama.”

Virgil felt as if the air had been pulled from his lungs. Something… something wasn’t right. A little voice screamed at him to get Thomas away from her. But the voice wasn’t his. It didn’t sound familiar. His uneasiness increased tenfold when he saw Logan and Patton. They were still horrified. Patton had his hands covering his mouth. He must have been doing a very good job holding in his empath magic because there were tears in his eyes but Virgil didn't feel a single one.

“Thomas,” Logan started, voice serious and steady. “You need to get back here. Right now."

"What?" Thomas pulled back, wiping his eyes. "But it's my mom. You know how long it's been since the last time I saw her."

"Yes, but that's not --" His voice cracked. Virgil could see the tears forming in his eyes before he shut them.

"Don't listen to him, baby," she said. Her voice was soothing. Like any mother who tries to calm down her child. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Logan took a deep breath before attempting to speak again. "Thomas," he still sounded serious, but much more hollow than before, "look at her. Really look at her." He opened his eyes. "That's the last thing we ever saw her in."

Thomas took a step back from her to do as he was instructed. She wasn't wearing anything modern. Or even something that was intended to be worn outside of the house. She had on a silk robe decorated in flowers with a soft pink nightgown underneath. Even her feet were bare.

She wasn't real.

"But…" Thomas took another step back. "How -- why --?" He looked so torn.

"It's alright, Thomas." She took a step toward him. "I'm right here." She opened her arms for a welcoming hug.

And Thomas hesitated.

"Thomas," Patton begged. "Please."

Virgil was almost convinced Thomas wouldn’t listen. This was his mom. Why wouldn’t he think to turn to her first? But he didn’t. He took another step away from her. Fresh tears welled in his eyes as he continued to back away.

The woman frowned. “Thomas.” She dropped her arms. “I’m your mother.”

“I…” He stopped. “M-my --”

“She’s not,” Logan insisted as he stepped forward. “Not anymore.”

“Thomas, you have to believe us.” Patton joined Logan and took his hand. “She really isn’t your mom.”

The woman’s frown deepened as she looked at them. “As if you two would know anything about that. Neither of you had much of an example of what a mother should be.”

Patton's expression shifted to hurt while Logan appeared ready to punch her in the nose. Thomas stared at her in shock.

"Come on, Thomas, I think you've spent enough time with them." She regained her sweet smile and extended a hand toward him.

He didn't take it. He put more distance between them. "I've spent most of my life with them. I'm not just gonna leave."

She looked genuinely surprised by this. "You would rather stay?"

"I can't imagine doing anything else."

Confusion flicked across her face before steadying into something else -- an almost complete 180 of her original sweet persona. More than a furious mother, she seemed downright pissed off. “Thomas, I am trying to make this easier for you. Come here right now.”

“No.”

That didn’t appear to be the right thing to say. “What?”

“I, I said no. I’m not going with you.”

Virgil put his hands in his pockets, curling his fingers around the pens inside. He noticed Roman fidgeting with his bracelet.

“Fine. We’re going to have to do this the hard way.” She straightened out her robe and reached out for him.

Then a few things happened at once. Roman and Virgil summoned their weapons. A bright flash of light erupted before them, and a figure moved swiftly to be in front of Thomas. He seized the woman’s wrist.

“Picani,” Thomas exclaimed.

Or at least… it almost was. He didn’t quite look like himself; appearing more mashed together than usual. Not even his height was the same. His skin was darker. His hair was also darker and a bit curlier. The most drastic difference, however, was his eyes. One was a scalding bright blue, and the other was a dark sky.

“Oh, Cali, I was wondering if you were going to join us.” She yanked her arm back. Her eyes scanned him up and down. “You seem a bit broken though. Are you sure you can hold it together?”

“We can hold it just fine,” he said, Patton’s and Logan’s voices layering over one another.

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Sure sounds like it.”

He scowled. “Thomas, go over to Roman and Virgil.”

Thomas didn’t hesitate to do so.

The woman watched him go with an unreadable expression. Virgil couldn't tell if she was angry or not. "I never figured my own son would stop listening to me one day. After everything I ever did to keep you safe."

"You're not her."

"I was," she snapped, turning her head back to glare at Picani. "I was alive once. I used to be Brigida Sanders -- you used to know me. I'm the reason you're even here at all." She threw a punch at him, only missing because Picani deflected her hand. That didn't appear to slow her down at all.

Roman pulled Thomas back so there would be a greater distance between them and the fight. Virgil followed after.

"Think about it, Cal." She twisted his arm back and pressed her forearm across his shoulders. "What would have happened if Booker and I never found you? Do you think you would have made it very far?" She pushed down on him. "Would you have even accepted yourself?"

Picani's form flickered, allowing him to break out of her hold. "You are not the only reason we are here today."

"I beg to differ." She went at him again, though this time Picani wasn't as capable of blocking her. "I gave you everything. I made sure to protect you. I never let anyone put you down for being who you are. And yet you won't even let me have my son back." With every sentence, her blows hit harder.

Picani stepped away. He put his hands on his knees and breathed in and out in quick successions as if experiencing an intense exercise for the first time. “We promised to protect him.”

“And look what a great job you’ve done,” she retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word as she kicked him back.

In a quick flash of light, Logan and Patton fell to the floor.

“I gave him to you so he’d be safe from those who wanted to hurt him, but now he’s right on Altair’s radar.” She stood in front of them with a scowl. “What kind of protection is that?”

“We tried.” Patton struggled to sit up.

“A lot of good that did.” Her eyes lifted to Thomas. “It’s time for you to join everyone else.”

Thomas tensed. Roman and Virgil stood in front of him protectively. But she didn’t even get to take a step. A tip of a sword appeared in front of her face, halting her progress. Her eyes widened in shock. Logan rose to his feet. He adjusted the sword so it was properly in his hands, but kept it trained on Brigida.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She raised a brow.

“Have to get rid of you somehow,” he responded.

“I suppose so.” She reached into her pockets and pulled out two matching daggers. The blades and handles were white. The grips had an intricate twisted design laced with gold leading up to the pommels. She put them together and they morphed into one, changing shape and size into a sword. “But I think we both know how this is going to end.”

Logan seemed less confident now -- not that he had time to feel that for long. Brigida swung at him.

As Brigida pushed forward, Virgil made a bee-line to Patton with Roman and Thomas following close behind.

“Are you okay?” Virgil kneeled in front of him.

“What? Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He kept his eyes trained on Brigida and Logan. “I have to --” he stopped abruptly, patting his pockets with widened eyes. “I don’t have a weapon.” Panicked, he placed his hand on the carpet. “We’re on the second floor.” He drew his hand back, eyes briefly scanning over Roman and Virgil’s weapons, and looked around. “Dirt. I need dirt. A potted plant -- something.” He stood up.

“What about this one?” Roman picked up a succulent resting on a nearby desk.

Patton's eyes fluttered over it. “Fake.”

Roman and Thomas looked at it. In all fairness, it seemed pretty real, but perhaps the elf who could control plants knew what he was talking about. Roman tossed it back on the desk.

“You’re doing great, honey,” Patton called out with a nervous smile.

“Some help would be nice,” Logan shot back. He ducked out of the way of an oncoming sword.

“I’m working on it.” He glanced around the room, shifting from foot to foot. “I need to find a real plant.” He looked at Virgil and Roman. “Stay here with Thomas. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He took off.

“Shouldn’t one of us help Logan?” Virgil cried out after him.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Virgil stood up. “He can’t be serious,” he deadpanned.

“Think about it,” Thomas started in a whisper. “You’ve only known how to fight for two months. My mom’s been able to fight for a couple centuries. I don’t even think Logan would be able to beat her on his own.”

“Isn’t that a good reason to try?” Virgil tightened his grip on his daggers. As he gazed at the two fighting, Right made quiet suggestions on how to best assist Logan.

“I’m kinda with Thomas on this one, Virge,” Roman said. “We have almost no experience -- especially compared to her. How much help can we possibly be?”

That was a solid point. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against her. But still. Virgil couldn’t help but feel he had to do something. As if it was his responsibility to fix this somehow. There was something deep inside of him that insisted he needed to get rid of her. He had to protect everyone.

Logan hit the ground. His sword was on far from his reach. Brigida stood over him and pulled apart the hilt of her sword, forcing it to return to her hands as two daggers. She adjusted one of them to be in a proper grip. "Good effort, kiddo.”

Virgil reacted on pure instinct. He heard Thomas and Roman's muffled voices, but they didn't impede his progress. He had to do this. Almost as if by muscle memory, he hit his forearm against Brigida’s and pushed it down and around, using her momentum to turn her body away. Once her back was toward him, he shoved her as hard as he could. After it happened, he realized he had an open opportunity to strike, yet he didn’t utilize it. He just wanted to get her far away.

“How the hell did you do that?” Logan’s voice almost didn't register to Virgil's ears.

“I have no idea.” Virgil turned to him.

“Well, we’re not out of it yet.” He got up and grabbed his sword.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stood on end. He spun around in time to see Brigida slash down with her dagger. He narrowly missed the blade by sidestepping out of the way. He tried to ignore how close she was to almost stabbing him. It was easy to do once he had to block another one of her attacks.

"Oh, those are cute," she commented, eyeing up his daggers. "I'll have to take them off you later." She used their interlocked daggers to her advantage. She pulled on one of them and kicked his leg up, sending him tumbling down.

Much to his chagrin, he realized this was a similar move he had seen before. When Logan threw Roman to the ground.

"Move!" Roman's voice hissed at him.

No need to tell Virgil twice. He rolled in time for Brigida to slam her dagger down. Instead of hitting Virgil, thank God, it stuck into the ground.

She lowered herself enough to whisper, "Stand down, kid." She almost sounded genuine. Then she stood up to deal with Logan.

Like hell would Virgil listen to her. If anything he was being a rather good distraction. He needed to buy Patton more time. With a new goal in mind, he tried to stand up -- except he couldn't get anywhere. He fell back to the floor. It didn't take him long to notice that Brigida's dagger was stabbed through his hoodie pocket. Fuck. He should have zipped it up. He let go of Left so he could pull it out, but when he tugged on it it wouldn't budge. "Jesus, lady," he grumbled to himself. How the hell did she manage this?

"Virgil," Thomas called out. He was hiding behind Roman, eyes apprehensively glancing between his mom and Logan fighting, and the predicament Virgil found himself in. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He tugged on it again. This time he managed to move it, but not very much. He had no clue how she stabbed the floor this hard.

“Do you need any help? Or do you have any other dumb stunts to aid you?” Roman raised a brow in his usual ‘you’re-an-idiot-and-I’m-right’ expression.

Virgil glared at him. “I got it.” Sort of. Much to his pain, he realized the easiest option would be to tear his hoodie loose, which would leave a rather unfortunate hole. If he tried to continue pulling out the dagger he’d just be wasting more time. In the end, he decided ruining his favorite hoodie was a small price to pay.

He took each side of the pocket and yanked it up. It got caught on the hilt the first time. But the second time the fabric gave way. He couldn’t lie; that hurt his soul a bit.

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t have any time to react. In a split second, he saw Roman and Thomas disappear and then he fell. He landed flat on his back with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The clang of metal was loud and clear in his ears as Right slipped out of his hand. He tried to pick himself up, but he didn’t quite get there. Instead, he rolled to his side, which was at least halfway there and deserved some form of compensation in his opinion. Getting the air knocked out of you was tough shit. Give him some credit.

All of that seemed rather irrelevant, however, when he saw Brigida’s dagger fall over the edge. “What the hell?” His chest constricted as the words passed his lips, but he ignored it. He pushed himself to his feet and immediately wanted to sit back down.

He was on a rather high catwalk. More confusing was that he seemed to be in a theatre. All the seats below him were empty and the bare minimum of lights was on. He held onto the bars to calm his vertigo, but it didn’t help that his hands were slick from sweat. Luckily, part of his attention got dragged somewhere else. Voices. Brigida and Logan were on the stage below.

“You know,” her voice carried up to the catwalk with traces of annoyance. “I don’t even have to take you back to Altair at all. I just have to kill you.”

Logan took a defensive position. “Do it, then.”

“Sure thing.”

No.

No, no, no, no. She would absolutely be able to do that. No. That couldn’t happen. Virgil needed to get down there as fast as possible. Patton would kill him if he stood back and watched. Not that he even entertained the idea, anyway. He located the exit of the catwalk and scooped up his daggers, scurrying off to the door.

He took the stairs down as fast as was safely possible which resulted in him almost running face-first into the door when he reached the bottom. He pushed it open and raced out. He was in one of the wings. None of the main lights were on, but he could see props and equipment silhouetted by the dim blue light. There was a chance he’d trip over something with the rather large mess this posed. Who the hell was performing here? Didn’t they care about safety?

As Virgil navigated his way to an opening, he glanced through the legs to see onstage. With one dagger it seemed as if Brigida struggled to fight back. Not even someone like her would have a good time going up against a sword with such a close-encounter weapon. This was good. By the time Virgil made it onstage, Logan already had Brigida on the ground. Disarmed and with nowhere to go.

He held the tip of his sword to her throat.

Brigida stared at it before bringing her eyes up to Logan. Her expression morphed to be one of hurt. Both frightened and betrayed at the same time. “C’mon, L,” she said, voice wavering. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

Logan hesitated. Recognition and uncertainty crossed his features. She struck a nerve.

Virgil didn’t get to register what Right had whispered to him before it happened. And he became frozen.

Brigida kicked Logan back, knocking the sword out of his hand. As he stumbled, she picked it up. All sound was caught in Virgil’s throat as she ran it through Logan. Her face showed no remorse -- or even a lack of expression as other Figments -- instead, she wore a sly smirk. She was proud to have lowered Logan’s defenses so easily. She felt something.

She drew the sword back out. Logan took a step back, shaky hands moving to cover his gaping wound. “You were always the weak one.” She shoved him down. “Always too afraid to use your full potential.” He tried to get away, but she kept him down. “Always needing someone to say you’re doing it right. Because mommy and daddy didn’t love you enough. You’re nothing but flaws, Logan. After all this time, that's the one thing you haven't changed.”

“Throw me!” Left all but screamed at Virgil in Patton’s voice.

Brigida lifted the sword.

Like a gear in clockwork, Virgil raised the dagger and threw it. After it left his fingers, a crippling fear hit him at once. He hadn’t thrown his daggers much before. He could miss. He could piss her off and get Logan killed. Why didn’t he think before he threw?

The dagger struck between her eyes. She looked straight at Virgil in surprise. Black ooze leaked out, sliding down over her mouth, then she was gone. Both the dagger and sword fell from their positions. Everything around them fizzled out of existence; they were on the first floor of the office building again.

Virgil stood there in shock. It took Right yelling at him to get him to move. He ran toward Logan and kneeled at his side.

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “Are you alright? No, God.” He placed his hands over the wound, earning a wince from Logan. “I, uh, what do I do?” He tried to not start panicking, but that proved easier said than done. Blood was seeping in between his fingers. Real blood. Actual blood. This wasn’t some horrible vision or a what-if scenario. This was happening right here and he wasn’t prepared for it.

“P-Patton,” Logan choked out.

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Patton?” Then it sunk in. “Patton. Heal. H-he can heal.” He shot up from the ground and ran up the stairs.

The three stood around having an argument that no doubt was seeded in worry.

“Patton.”

They stopped and looked in the direction of Virgil's voice.

Virgil couldn’t think of any words. He held out his hands, both covered in blood. He saw Patton’s eyes scan every inch of him. “Logan.”

Patton’s eyes shot up to Virgil’s face as if needing to see validity. Seeming to find it, he wasted no time in bolting down the stairs.

The others followed after.

All of Patton's English flew out the window when he reached the first floor. Logan winced as his hands were removed and replaced by Patton’s. He whispered calming foreign words as a soft blue glow clashed with the jarring red. Logan kept his eyes screwed shut throughout the whole thing.

Soon, Patton sighed in relief and removed his hands. No one commented on the blood that stained them. “How you feeling?”

Logan groaned and sat up. “Sore.” His hand hovered over the previously open wound. The only evidence that it ever happened was the tear in his shirt and the blood. “You’d think it would be easier the second time.”

“Wait, what?” Roman cried.

Patton chuckled. “Don’t worry about that.” He helped Logan to his feet.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Virgil gazed at Logan worriedly. “Don’t people who lose blood need transfusions or something?”

“Transfusions only occur if hemoglobin levels are seven or eight grams per deciliter. And he hasn’t passed out so I’d say that’s a pretty good indicator that he’ll live without one.”

Virgil and Roman stared at Patton. Then turned their eyes to Logan.

He seemed to be trying to keep himself steady until he noticed the eyes on him. He looked at them in confusion. “What are you staring at me for? He’s right.”

“Besides,” Patton continued. “We don’t technically exist. The only identification we have is Picani’s."

“Can we just go home now?” Thomas cut in.

Patton stared at him for a moment. "Oh, of course."

They had to be careful to not let anyone else see the blood on their way out.

When they got back, Thomas wasted no time going up the stairs to his room. He didn't say a word. Just left the others behind as soon as the opportunity came up. Patton and Logan watched him go and sighed when his door slammed closed. That didn't seem like a good sign.

"Does this seem like a Picani problem?" Patton turned to Logan.

"It most certainly does. But if we try fusing again I think that might actually kill me so let's avoid that." He placed a hand where Brigida stabbed him.

Roman frowned as he gazed up the stairs. "We could always send Virgil up there."

"What?" Virgil gave him an incredulous look.

Roman returned the look as if it was obvious. "You're the next best thing. He likes you. You help him with so many things and he tells you everything. You'll probably deal with this better than all of us."

"I think he's right," Patton agreed.

Oh great. Now he couldn't weasel out of it. "Let me clean the blood off first," he sighed.

After scrubbing his hands, he headed up the stairs. The little blackboard on Thomas's door had the same message it did for the past two months. No one changed it or attempted to erase it all the way. Virgil knocked underneath it. "Hey, kid, it's me. If you don't want me coming in say something now or else I'm going to take it as an invitation." He waited but didn't get anything. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

He couldn’t see Thomas at first. His initial thought was that he somehow got out, but his reasoning skills set in. There was a scrunched up pile of blankets on the bed. He had to be under there.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. The bundle of blankets didn’t move. “You doing okay?” He placed his hands in his lap.

There came a muffled response of, “Peachy.” From the one word alone, Virgil could tell something wasn’t quite right. It didn’t sound like him. A quiet sniffle soon told him why.

How would he approach this? “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I want Picani.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. He sounded like a heartbroken little kid. Virgil couldn’t handle this right now. “He’d come up here if he could, but I don’t think he’d stick around very long. I’m afraid you only have me. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to.”

He let out a broken sound. “I… I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to believe that she -- that everyone -- that they’re… they’re…” He shattered into pieces. Even through the fabric, his sobbing was clear and audible. “I-I just wanted them to be fine. I wanted it so bad, but it was dumb and naive to keep thinking that way. And it hurts. I ignored everything telling me the truth because I didn’t wanna stop believing that they were out there somewhere. But they’re not. Of course they weren’t. I knew that the moment I met you, but it took me seeing my mom as a Figment to get me to believe it.”

“The moment you met me?” Something squirmed inside Virgil’s chest. His hands turned clammy.

“You have her eyes.”

Her eyes.

“You’re a lot like her. You have that same light in your eyes."

“Because they’ll see the same thing I did.”

“I guess history repeats itself, after all.”

He… he used to be Brigida.

“I-I just wanna be alone right now.” Thomas further pulled his blankets around himself. His next words came out even more muffled than before, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Virgil obeyed without another word. His movements didn’t feel quite like his own as he walked toward the door. Like he had control but someone else was doing the action. Maybe it had to do with his missing puzzle piece making things more complicated rather than complete.

(Next)

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #violence tw #blood tw #death mention #coinverse

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osomanga · 5 years

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Supinamarada Characters x Golden Kamuy(1)

I invariably end up drawing parallels even though there isn’t really anything much in common. Well…not exactly...

I mean the Yufutsu boys can take the 7th in a fight(not to death, just running with Bokkos. Don’t read that as Bokki. Don’t)

If Golden Kamuy has soldiers, Suinamarada has the hockey boys:-Buzzcuts 🗸 & The first part of training is running with 6kg Bokkos to prepare them with required physical stamina. The bokko=hockey stick=gun.

So Supinamarada is set in Tomakomai, which is very famous for its ice hockey. In fact, Boku Dake ga Inai Machi/Erased is also set in Tomakomai which was it’s mangaka’s hometown. Thank god Satoru isn’t Noda. I was actually surprised when I first read it I thought, wait, the houses look straight out of Erased and then...

And not just Tomakomai. The protagonist high school is Yufutsu. Yufutsu, Tomakomai was where they first met Inkarmat at Huci’s brother's place and then the horse race where Kiro-chan showed off his jockey skills and Shiraishi lost.

The main rival team(or only significant one, since the manga was too short) is Kiyosato from Hachinohe, Aomori.

Anyway, about the characters...

Sometimes the eyes, sometimes eyebrows, sometimes the whole person. Rarely the personalities.

These boys(and two gals) are precious.

Precious!!

If Noda balances his bad guys in GK, he creates a high school scenario with not a manga high school, a nice high school, with a seriously Nihei-style crazy boot camp for rowdy but serious pro hockey aspirant high school boys who are good, good guys, and troubled young adults. The ones that aren’t just a lil bit bad are truly, wholsome-ly good!!

0.Nihei’s great great grandson

He’s Nihei++

Has same surname kanji 二瓶 .

That Beware, bear! sign...was turned into a Beware, Nihei! XD

He actually makes me wonder about a universe where Nihei trained the 7th Division.

1. Sugimoto and Tanigaki had a son who became the protagonist. Three protagonists.

a. Genjiro eye shape a little, Sugimoto everything else. Can’t remember who has his cat pupils but I know I’ve seen it somewhere. Shirakawa Rou - violent figure skater who finally found his place in ice hockey. (He has brown hair too)

b. Sugimoto is very Genma Kouichi. Very so. The entire eyebrows and eyes(except pupil) are identical.

c. Genma Keiichi, the younger Genma brother, is also a lil Sugi.

The Genma brothers(though not the same characters) were also the protagonists of Noda’s award-winning short “ゴーリーは前しか向かない ”. Kouichi is the goalie(goalkeeper).

2. The Hanazawa Eyebrows

Ogata’s reincarnation who has his delinquent tendencies but with Yusaku’s affable nature - Most importantly, The telephone receiver eyebrows and ok, Ogata’s nose

Meet Kai Kengo. One of the bestest boys ever!

He’s Ogata. In many ways. Except being far too nice natured and emotional.

Don’t kill me for this edit where I only erased lines and cut Ogata’s hair. They’re the...same

3. Finally Noda gave the Genma brother’s eyes to someone

All the eyes are quite distinct but the Genma bros have the most curious impossible pupils. Square white. And it’s been their distinguishing feature.

Ariko!

4. When Ushiyama talks like Koito all the time

The usual cute running gag of the guy no one but his best friend can understand - meet Ushiyama Souta who talks in the manga version of hieroglyphics(ancient japanese calligraphy). (Ushiyama Souta and Ushiyama Tatsuma do have the same surname kanji 牛山 ).

He speaks in very heavy dialect - Hamakotoba of coastal south Hokkaido. And Kumano is the only one who understands him.

5. Kumano reminds me of a buff Nikaido..

Nah...That large sized brothel owner that wanted to sell Asirpa off and also later got bowled out by a rampaging Ushiyama:-

The more apt Nikaido is Mukai or put both’s features together

6. Usami and the hospital guy’s common descendent - the inverted U eyebrow and mole! Added pretty eyes!

Mizushima Hiroshi! Special move-armpit farts. Seriously. Was fat but then Nihei’s torture shaped him up

Talking of Usami...

No idea who-some Kiyosato guy.

7. Kiroranke’s descendant married Tsukishima’s

Kiro-chan’s eyes, Tsukishima’s eyebrows+goatee+nostrils(but on a nose) and their equal combined energy is...creepy.

At first glance more like Tsukishima with a nose, happy, confident and coaching with heavy tactics

Wakabayashi Hiroki is named after real-life Japanese ice hockey coach (exact same name) who helped Noda providing him information on ice hockey and tactics. They have different career histories, however. The manga Wakabayashi was formerly gk(goalkeeper) with Russian team.

8. Best girl Wakami=....Sugimoto if he were a girl. Seriously...

She is an angel. An angel!

Plus a lil’ Edogai-ish

9. Dohi

Enough said...

10. Tanigaki.... if he was disastrously lucky. And his eyebrows compounded on themselves and were grey

Azumi Masaki. The “luckiest” guy in the world.

11. The Eyebrows that have no beginning nor end

Tanigaki v.0 bequeath a slimmer version of his eyebrows unto Koito Heiji

color scheme-

12. Neko - Neko the first’s 75th grandkat

Yubari is close to Tomakomai.

13. Kiroranke and Shirashi had a kid. Who had a kid with Ogata and a gold eyed cat’s Vasily’s kid.

And that kid is equal parts Ogata and equal parts the sweetest dork like Shiraishi who smiles like the most beautiful angel.

His smile is so beautiful - its creeps guys out. He’s got Yusaku’s nose and ever since I saw this cute fanart on twitter of a police Yusaku....who is made to look identical to Kiribuchi...

Nah...still more Ogata

Meet Kiribuchi Yuuto!

Koito Heiji and Kiro-chan’s tufted hair and...

Grows into Ogata’s goatee.

On that note, both Kiribuchi(=Ogata) and Wakabayashi(=Kiroranke) were the ‘anatgonists’...

Hmm....

14. Kiribuchi Yuuto Part 2

Adding to it…Kiribuchi is from Hachinohe, Aomori(Aomori…) - a port city and suffers from sea-sickness and yet they always travel to Tomakomai via ferry even though its an established fact that he gets sea sick. With him its a gag; Koito Otonoshin-kun’s seasickness is a lil’ dark.

And well, another person he kindof resembles

is Fina.

(though we haven’t seen much of her and maybe its coz of those light eyes that’s almost a universalRussian-characterly common.)

Kiribuchi’s eyes are yellowish/amber(?) in the colorspread and hair is silver(though since his parents run a beauty salon...)

On that note, lil’ Vasya’s a lil similar too(to Fina too with the eyebrows)

Ummm….so, say Olga had survived she’d have been a lil older than Asirpa and a lil’ younger than Koito. So Kiribuchi’s like in an alternate universe, great-grandchild of Koito and Olga...

15. Ishizaki Mitsuo

Just give him a fuller moustache and he becomes:-

That random Kagoshima school master that called Koito a bonbon.

16. Kouro Naoto

The Captain of Tomakomai Yufutsu High’s Ice Hockey team is literally the most positive and upbeat guy who keeps the team together with great leadership skill.

And he sparkles. Those diamondy spakles of positivity just overflowing from his person!!!! And his extra sparkly eyes!!

Just like our dearest Maiharu Gansoku!!

Also…don’t do anything stupid or harm his team and get him angry.

He’ll obliterate you.

Literally.

(That pic is of him lecturing the team though when they got too down in the dumps. But,yeah. Don’t get him angry)

Like when Higuchi and Keiichi’s fight spiralled out of control…

He stepped in…

Considering Nihei drilled the entire lot of them into having the required extraordinary stamina and strength, Kouro’s tossing of the otherwise large-sized and almost equally strong former captain Higuchi is no mean feat of strength.

He and Gansoku…would’ve really, really hit it off.

17. Higuchi

On that note, Higuchi is just a lil’ similar to Oyabun

Just a lil’ appearance-wise…and yakuza-ing wise.

Even though it is a coincidence, putting Oyabun and Higuchi’s names together one gets Kiichiro Higuchi, the last commander of the Sapporo command(after the 7th got split into 2); the one for 7th at Asahikawa was Koito Gyoichi.

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yenrz1314 · 6 years

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Is Xion Necessary In Kingdom Hearts?(Roxas character analysis)

Yeah weird title, I know. A title focused on Xion about a blog that's pretty much 95% about Roxas :v

So let's dive right into the question.

Some claim that if she wasn’t created (in the story, not as a character in the narrative) Sora would have never woken up. Others say that her presence is entirely superficial and twisted something that already worked. Regardless, the answer to this question is tied to the answering of another question:

Would Roxas have left the organization on his own?

The answer is surprisingly ambiguous in nature. Also keep in mind that this is just my interpretation of Roxas’s character. You can go believe he’s a gay, pretty boy that’s into dabbing and ping pong for all I care.

Not to mention this has been really bugging me slightly for years to get this out about Roxas and how he isn’t just some edgelord that went through an existential crisis.

The only way to answer the former question is to analyze Roxas’s character as well as his motivations. So let’s break down the character into two pieces:

Pre-Days Roxas

and Post-Days Roxas

Also this gif is so wholesome I cri 。ﾟ(ﾟﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

To clarify, please don’t get this mixed up. Mind you, we’re talking about Roxas before and after the release of the game 358/2 Days respectively. Not Roxas before and after the events of 358/2 days. I guess one could also call it KH2 Roxas and 358/2 days Roxas but not quite and nnnnngggaahhh this is getting confusing let's move on.

So let's start with Pre-Days Roxas. His past was definitely mysterious, and his personality was semi-hidden behind a curtain since we didn't have all that much access to said mysteeeerious past. All we know is that he had Axel as a pal and that he betrayed the organization.

That asides, we also know he's a big fan of friendship since we also see him tearing up in front of his pals inside Sora. And seeing him go through the tragic struggle of trying to exist, but knowing how futile that fight is, is definitely a relatable one and its presentation is executed rather well. He's different from Sora in that when he hits his low points, he can really lash out. He's less reverent for sure.

You would be definitely correct to say that Pre-Days Roxas already had an explanation for abandoning the Organization, that being that he was fed up with the mystery and was questioning his own existence. So in this case, Xion has no necessity in this paradigm.

However, let's look at Post-Days Roxas. Under the magnifying glass, you'll find that Pre-Days and Post-Days Roxas are subtly different in character. Post-Days Roxas really came across as more docile and less rowdy, which makes sense since most of the game he isn't going through a tumultuous existential crisis like we see in in KH2.

He’s definitely also shown to have the patience of a gosh darned saint, with his friends exclusively of course. Also, to the very end, he always seemed to be more of the type of guy that just wanted to be with his friends and didn’t care much about anything else. He can be smart and hotheaded like Pre-Days Roxas with the same amount of agency, but when given the choice he would rather keep the peace as long as he had his friends. His personal matters come second to his friends. Well, that’s at least how I interpreted that.

Post-Days Roxas’s differences in character subtly, but wholly change the paradigm. There are scenes in Days when he watched the Twilight town trio, where he voiced his opinion saying that he would much rather live a mundane, peaceful life with friends. That alone really makes me believe that if Xion wasn’t in the equation, Roxas would have dealt with whatever shade that the Org. threw his way for the sake of keeping the peace and keeping the only happiness he would had ever known: his friendship with Axel. Riku would probably eventually intervene if that were to happen, but that’s another story.

At this point, the only explanation for Post-Days Roxas’s desertion of and eventual attempt to eliminate the organization could only be, in fact, Xion. His friendgroup was already falling apart, but her death was the last straw. He had no more stability or source of happiness to cling to, and the mystery behind his existence was just more fuel to the fire.

Either way, he says it himself when battling Riku.

“I'll set Kingdom Hearts free, then everything will be back the way it was! She'll come back... and the three of us can be together again!"

"I want Xion back! I want my life back!"

No mention about his identity or existence. The closest one we get is:

“Why did the Keyblade choose me? I have to know”

Which doesn’t undermine my point here, as this can definitely still be one of his motives for leaving alongside the ones I've just stated/established. Just not the main one.

He was just a guy that wanted to be with his friends and didn’t care much about anything else, but due to circumstance he was torn from his happiness and forced to play a role he didn’t want.

All the more tragic, don’t you think?

Something about this kind of Roxas, compared to Pre-Days Roxas, a simple story of a deserter with a devil may care attitude becoming self aware of the futility of his existence, is more appealing and complex to me. It might be the nostalgia goggles talking, but I definitely prefer Post-Days over Pre-Days Roxas. He seems more personable, more human. And this ties into the fact that he was a nobody that was able to grow a heart.

You can like what you like, however, because my preferences don't invalidate yours. This is especially apparent because of the following:

He is definitely congruous with Pre-Days Roxas, so there are no retcons here. All of these ‘changes’ do not contradict what was established with Pre-Days Roxas, as his character was written with open ends for future games to work with. These are more like additions to his character, rather than changes. The presentation of Days, although neglecting to put him in the spotlight narratively, develops his character quite well from the fragments of what we got in KH2 if you take into account my interpretation. It’s nothing major, but it’s something that has substance. Basically Roxas’ character was developed in Days. Like adding some needed salt to an already pretty tasty dish.

I’m sorry

Not to mention Xion's death and the following wipe of everyone's memory helps these additions fit in nicely. I have to also say, however, that this memory wipe could never excuse retcons. And I'm grateful that the writers didn’t do this, which is a pleasant surprise considering that most of the time they don’t pull off this smooth of a job.

Now let's go back to answering the question: Is Xion necessary?

We can now say that she definitely is, when taking into account Post-Days Roxas’s character. Meanwhile, she isn't when only considering Pre-Days Roxas. However, these two points are not contradictory to one another because of the nature of Xion's death.

With all that in mind, Days was written pretty well in this aspect, as this new recontextualization of Roxas's character is actually really satisfying to see pulled off. And because of that, I have to give props to the writing team.

Also another reason to check off my list as to why Roxas is the best character in Kingdom Hearts ever.

But everything changed when DDD attacked, recontextualizing everything in the worst way possible, turning things into a “Xehanort planned ALL of this ALL ALONG” sort of thing.

Narratively, I can’t help but find that sort of boring, and I think most of the KH fandom didn’t really like how time travel went and pseudo-retconned everything.

But once again, that’s another story.

#roxas is and always will be the best boy #roxas #xion #axel #akurokushion #akurokushi #rucksack #our precious rucksack #kingdom hearts #kh #kh3 #kh days #kh 358/2 days #kingdom hearts 358/2 days #kingdom hearts 3 #organization 13 #xehanort #blog

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miamaroo · 6 years

Text

Northern Migration- Chapter 22 (Notes + Preview)

Here it is! The ever fated next chapter of Northern Migration. Through some twist of fate, it manages to actually not be a really bad anime filler episode despite the fact that it’s all just me trying to finish up a plot point my hubris accidentally created. If I had only outlined this story, then maybe I would’ve seen all of this happening. If only.

Anyway, make sure to read the new chapter before giving this a check out. Or, if you have never read this fic before, read these notes for an out-of-context idea of what you’re missing out on. Whatever floats your boat on this wild Friday night.

Spoilers Ahead!

I feel like I’m at a bit of a crossroads with some of my Taako subplots, but the one about him getting used to his body again in particular. On one hand, it’s more than logical to presume that three years without any physical touch is enough to mess someone up. On the other, he’s an elf. Three years doesn’t feel like that long to him. I don’t know. I think I read a fic once where a similar idea had to be done, and I remember thinking that all of the angst in it was voyeuristic. If you think I’m underplaying Taako getting used to his senses again, that’s why. One bad fic experience, and I can’t get it out of my head whenever I want to acknowledge Taako and touch anymore.

By the way, none of anything I said right there is meant to be a diss. I just have very specific tastes in fanfiction and it ruins my life on a daily basis.

I ran into a quagmire with the Magnus and Julia reunion scene here. They need to have a fulfilling moment where Julia’s injuries and sacrifices are acknowledged. But Lucretia is also dying, so I had to make it much shorter than I wanted. I definitely kinda skimmed over Magnus learning about Davenport as well, so I agree that those areas are definitely the weakest parts of this chapter. If it’s any comfort to you, I’m not done with either plotline yet. I still have a couple of character moments planned for Davenport and Julia in this upcoming interlude surrounding their sacrifices.

Remember that Stevie and Taako scrap I posted a while ago, and I said that I was most likely not going to ever put it back into the fic. I hope you can now see why I had to cut it. Honestly, shame on me for writing it all out in the first place before realizing that Lucretia was just lying there, almost dead,

One last apology for not jumping right into Taako’s emotional arc like I wanted to. Again, accidental plot point happened and I had to solve it ASAP. I did my best to leave little crumbs of what’s to come though, including Taako’s feelings of estrangement from the rest of the crew.

If you haven’t been able to tell by now, the accidental plot point itself was the fact that Lucretia needed a healer and Merle wasn’t there. When I had realized that, everything spiraled as I realized how Neverwinter was going to be like towards the ship and all that good stuff. There was a point of time where I almost just wrote a loose summary of having to sneak into Neverwinter, but in the end I think this chapter proved to actually be something the story needed. Merle running off to Barry now has more consequences, we can immediately see how the public opinion plot is developing, I can fulfill the sprinklings of a plot thread Magnus meeting Bane a bunch of chapters back started, and I also got Stevie to the emotional place I want her to be at before the next John scene. So in the end, this chapter is honest to god a blessing, and I really have to pat myself on the back for accidentally fixing a bunch of potential hiccups this story was going to have.

I had the misfortune of having to debate how to handle Garyl’s first scene in this fic. I’m personally not that big of a fan of him, but I know a lot of people are. It really wasn’t until I was proofing this chapter that it occurred to me that there’s probably going to be more than a few people peeved that I skimmed over the coolest phantom steed like that. And to those people: I’m sorry. I should really know better.

The orc woman is hands down the best character in this fic.

Magnus and Stevie versus the militia is the highlight of this chapter. I was really excited to write it, and I’m happy with how it turned out. It hit a lot of writing tricks that I just love to use, including the repetition and inevitable inversion of a phrase or idea (this one being the sentence “she’s ten). There’s a lot more about this I could probably say, but I’m just going to leave it there.

I tried to use Magnus’s speech to Stevie afterwards as an in-story hey look at this thing moment, but in case that wasn’t clear enough: Stevie saying that her parents fighting Kalen is her inspiration for wanting to be an adventurer is a significant marker of her growth because when we first meet her, one of the first things we learn about her is that the Power Bear is her favorite story. Stevie’s arc is 100% a coming of age story, and as I get older, I realize more and more how much I love those things.

This Isaak scene is interesting because the first part with Noelle’s family was actually written months ago. It’s actually a draft of his introductory scene that I had scraped in favorite of writing him discovering Phandalin instead. I never thought I was ever gonna get to put it back in, so I’m really happy that it just so turned out that now became a good time to throw it back in (in no short part due to the fact that he disses the militia and this chapter has a lot of Militia Doing Bad Stuff).

Another reason why I’m so happy we got to see Noelle’s family is because of chapter 4. That chapter starts with a long sequence of various side characters who will become important to the plot seeing the Hunger’s spies and reacting accordingly. It mentions Angus, Hurley and Sloane, and Noelle’s family. After I trashed their scene the first time around, it really bugged me that they only got that one mention, especially since that mention was placed in there in the first place to serve as an entryway for Isaak. But now order is restored and I can be at peace.

I also adored writing that rowdy bar scene. If you haven’t been able to tell by now: I love rowdy bar scenes and people being drunk.

Also I finally got Carey and Isaak where I want them. First interlude chapter, and I already got the first part of the next relic arc set up…

As I mentioned in the chapter notes, this is going to be the last of the long chapters for a while. I really don’t want to spend a month between updates again, so I’m going to go back to the 2-7k word count limits. That will most likely mean that not every chapter will have both major character and major plot developments. There might be times when there’s going to be a chapter where there’s only going to be one of them, or even just minor developments. That’s going to be infuriating for a while, but I ultimately think that doing the smaller chunks will be better for the health of this story and myself.

Thank you. And without further ado, here’s the preview for the next (short) chapter:

The Hammerhead base is on fire. Militia tape already seals off the street, a combination of battlewagons and sheer manpower pushing back the crowd of spectators. Wizards cast dampening spells over the warehouses as none-magic users rush water from the canal by the bucket-load. The stench of smoke makes Taako gag and, despite the hot weather, he pulls his scarf up and over his nose.

“How the hell did Merle manage to do this?” Magnus asks. He has Stevie on his shoulders, holding her calves in place as she scans the crowd. When his eyes finally reach Taako, a brow arches. “You doing okay?” The amount of care on his face is disgusting, especially when he and his wife are still in the middle of some kind of argument.

Taako doesn’t get it. He was there when it all went down yesterday, with the healer situation and all. Somehow this version of Magnus is still furious. At least, Taako thinks he is. Between getting his first proper night’s sleep in three years and having to trek across Goldcliff with Magnus, he’s hasn’t had enough time to scout out all the details of this marriage-arrangement-thing. But he knows that he’s already caught Magnus sleeping on the couch, which makes Julia a bad person in his books.

“Taako,” Magnus says, as if he didn’t brush away every word his wife sent his way before taking their daughter with him into this jaunt into Goldcliff.

“Peachy,” Taako finally grumbles back, rocking onto the tips of his toes to peer over the crowd’s shoulders. “Why the fuck can’t that old perv just answer his stanking stone for once?”

“Found him!” In her excitement, Stevie almost falls off Magnus’s shoulders. She grabs his hair, causing his to shout in pain as she pulls herself upright again. “Hey! Merle!” She waves her hands high in the air. “Over here! Uncle Merle!”

“Uncle,” Taako says, craning his neck for any sign of the dwarf.

He can hear the light smile flit across Magnus’s face. “Technically, you’re her uncle too.”

He glowers. “Fantastic.”

Between the legs of two spectating orcs, Merle weaves through. He looks ripe as rain, a cup of coffee in one hand as he throws a wave up to Magnus and Stevie. “Hey, you two.”

“Uncle Merle!” Stevie jumps off Magnus’s shoulders, causing him to swear and grab the back of her shirt before she can hit the ground. The moment he places her down safely, she throws her arms around the dwarf and squeezes.

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